Hello Again!
I hope you enjoy reading the next book in my Hearts of Honour series, Duty and Desire, as much as I did writing it. We get to visit our beloved Edward and Isabella while spending time with some characters I'm hoping you will come to love as much as I do. The original version of the first book, Passion and Propriety, is now available for sale on Amazon in both ebook and print format for anyone who would like a copy.
My posting schedule for my stories is Wednesday, Friday and Sunday for Duty and Desire, and Tuesday and Saturday for Viral Sensation. Thanks so much for all your support. Thanks also for the kind words regarding my poor, fractured leg. I don't fancy two months of not being able to use it, but at least I'll get lots of writing done! :)
xx Elise
~D&D~
Chapter 1
Accord
Alice Brandon pulled her cloak more firmly around her shoulders. The blustery wind tugged strands of her long, dark hair free from her bun and used them to whip her face. To add insult to injury, the misty rain which was falling when she embarked on this journey, and could have been easily borne, was now falling from the sky in a steady stream. Several icy drips worked their way through her worn, woollen wrap, sending shivers down her spine.
What joy.
As the midwife and herbalist for the village of Forkton, Alice traipsed around the countryside in all sorts of weather, but that didn't mean it wasn't a trial. She really should have taken up Edward, the viscount Masen, on his offer to supply her with a horse-drawn chaise. Although, how she would find time to care for a horse was beyond her. There were so few hours left in her day already, certainly not enough for a decent night's sleep on the rare occasion she wasn't called out to assist with a birth or to tend someone too ill to be left until morning. If the viscount knew the reason for her reluctance, he would probably offer to pay for a stable boy to assist her. But Alice didn't like to feel beholden, not even to her best friend's husband. She huffed a breath in frustration, considering it was somewhat unavoidable since he now funded her work.
Startled by a horse's whinny, she looked over her shoulder to see—as if conjured from her imagination—just the sort of hooded chaise Edward had suggested would be suitable for her needs. Unfortunately, the driver was more likely to appear in her nightmares than her daydreams: Jasper Whitlock, retired military officer and the Masen Viscountcy's new estate manager.
"Get in. You can ride with me the rest of the way up to the manor."
Alice bristled at her unwelcome rescuer's tone even as the wind tugged at the ribbons of her bonnet. Personable in appearance, Mr Whitlock was blessed with vivid blue eyes, golden hair and a close-trimmed beard. While well-respected by the local populace, he had a knack for rubbing Alice the wrong way. If she were a cat, she would have hissed.
"Don't dawdle, Miss Brandon," he added in his typically autocratic manner. "There's no point getting any wetter than you already are, unless you enjoy impersonating a drowned rat?"
Alice narrowed her eyes. She would have given a great deal to be able to turn her back on the obnoxious man and keep walking, but a not-so-distant clap of thunder heralded a strengthening in the storm. If only she hadn't misread the weather.
"Oh, very well," she muttered, clambering aboard with little of the grace she was normally ascribed in either movement or demeanour. To make matters worse, the chaise's bench seat was barely wide enough to accommodate them both. Leaving a respectable distance between them simply wasn't possible, as she was forced to squeeze into the narrow space between the sidewall and Mr Whitlock's immovable thigh. Thankfully, he made no comment about her damp skirt pressing against him. He merely jerked his chin towards the prancing bay gelding.
"I'm sorry I couldn't climb down to assist you, but Ned's hard to handle in this weather."
After placing her bag next to her feet, Alice gave him a withering glance. "That would have been unnecessary, as I am quite capable of getting into a vehicle unaided. It also would have been unwise, as it's plain to see you need to keep both hands on the reins lest your horse bolt. I have no desire to be bowled over and left face-down in the mud."
"Neither do I, which is why I wasn't fool enough to attempt the manoeuvre." Mr Whitlock's nostrils flared. "I was merely trying to explain my less-than-gentlemanly behaviour," he added while urging his horse to trot up the steep, muddy road that led to Masen Manor
"Since we both know I am not a lady, the gesture would have been wasted. Unless you're saying you would show the same courtesy to your average, run-of-the-mill servant?"
"If a woman needed my help, then I would render assistance regardless of her station," he replied, biting off each word as if displaying the early signs of lockjaw.
While the man was as irritating as a prickle in one's shoe, Alice couldn't deny she received an inordinate amount of pleasure from goading him.
"I beg your pardon?" She raised her voice despite having heard him clearly. "You need to remember to enunciate your words, Mr Whitlock, if you're going to persist in covering your mouth with facial hair. It has a muffling effect."
"My mouth is not covered with facial hair," he spluttered. "My moustache and beard are perfectly groomed and— Oh, never mind."
He faced forward with a jerk of his head, and Alice was hard-pressed to stifle a smirk. Just as she had hoped, a slash of red tinged the cheekbones above his equally reddish beard. Truth be told, she was quite partial to well-groomed facial hair, and Mr Whitlock's efforts complemented his fashionably styled locks and sparkling eyes in a more than acceptable manner. Not that she would ever divulge her opinion. The man was too arrogant by half, likely due to the admiring looks he received from the district's maidens. And matrons, for that matter. The retired and widowed major was not yet thirty years old. Between his handsome appearance and military bearing, he must be aware he set female hearts fluttering wherever he went. Not hers, of course. Alice couldn't abide the man.
Wedged beside him on the narrow chaise seat, with shoulder, hip, and thigh in unavoidable contact with his, she attributed her own increase in heartbeat to having trudged halfway up the hill from the village to the manor in trying conditions. The heat coming off Mr Whitlock's body mitigated the cold in an undeniably pleasurable fashion, but so would snuggling up to a large dog if it were dry. And the chances of being bitten would be less likely.
Alice's best friend, Isabella, now Lady Masen, thought it a pity the two were at such continual odds, since Mr Whitlock was not only her husband's estate manager but also his closest acquaintance. That both Alice and Mr Whitlock were engaged in work designed to improve the lives of the inhabitants of the Masen viscountcy—Alice as its healer and midwife and Mr Whitlock as the representative of the district's largest employer and landlord—added weight to Isabella's argument. But they were too dissimilar to achieve any degree of amicability. Nor was it necessary. Avoiding the man, when she wasn't taking ill-concealed delight in provoking him, was the better course of action. Although not nearly as much fun.
When Mr Whitlock made no further comment, Alice shot a glance his way. From the tension emanating from his body, she deduced he was holding on to his civility with ruthless determination.
Good for him, she thought, not that she was likely to forget, or forgive, his previous lapses in a hurry.
An uncomfortable sensation slithered down Alice's spine—her conscience making its presence felt rather than the damp this time. Inferring his personal grooming was deficient had been a low blow. The man could be downright unreasonable, but it wasn't as if he were devoid of extenuating circumstances. Nor was Alice entirely blameless. While she might not have been the one to instigate the animosity between them, she had played her part in its continuation.
Releasing a sigh, Alice's better self urged her to at least try to cut him some slack. She was just about to ask after his situation, a risky business considering their history, when he broke the silence.
"On your way to see Lady Masen?"
Alice nodded.
Mr Whitlock's already impressive chest expanded as he drew in a deep breath. "Is she . . . on the mend?"
"It looks that way."
"Thank God." He released a long sigh.
"Indeed," Alice murmured, unsurprised he didn't apportion credit to any other source. The effort she had gone to in saving Isabella's life had been substantial. She'd had to work even harder to save her friend's husband, Edward, before her, when he had returned from the war mortally wounded, or so the army surgeons had insisted. But it would be a cold day in hell before Mr Whitlock acknowledged the part the village herbalist had played in both miracles.
"You're on your way to visit the viscount?" she asked when he said no more.
"His stable master first, then Masen if he can be dragged away from his wife's side." Mr Whitlock's mouth twisted, and they shared a smile. It was an unprecedented event, but Alice put down to coincidence the odd sensation it engendered in her stomach, as she had missed her luncheon.
"Masen is rather besotted." She shrugged, one of the habits she was free to enjoy since she was no longer a recognised member of polite society.
"Indeed." Mr Whitlock's smile faded. "And he has been terribly worried, as have we all."
The sincerity in his voice was unmistakeable, and Alice's expression sobered. "Hopefully, I'll be able to lay those fears to rest today."
Their gazes met, and for the second time in the short ride they were of one accord, Mr Whitlock's concern as genuine as her own.
~D&D~
"Must I endure another dose? I am feeling much better."
"I'm afraid so," Alice said, her tone brooking no nonsense. That Isabella felt up to arguing was a good sign. That and her now blessedly cool brow boosted Alice's confidence her friend was over the worst of her childbed fever.
"But I don't want to." Isabella crossed her arms, and Alice struggled to hide her smile. Rather than making her more matronly, marriage and motherhood had taken years off her friend's demeanour. Still, Alice had never expected to see the previously stodgy spinster acting like a petulant child.
"Now, sweetheart." Edward leaned down to kiss his wife on the forehead. "If Alice says you need to keep taking the tonic for a little longer, then take it you must."
"Oh, you." Isabella huffed. "I bet you told her to keep dosing me as payback for when you were forced to take the rotten stuff."
"It is vile." The sixth Viscount Masen smirked before shooting Alice an apologetic glance. "But also, effective."
Alice wasn't bothered by the remark. The herbal tonic she had prescribed to fight Isabella's fever was the same one she had used to save the viscount when he'd returned from the war with his arm mangled by a French shell casing. Undeniably bitter, the tincture consisted of ancient herbs steeped in garlic. First concocted during the plague years, it was by far the most powerful weapon Alice had to use in her never-ending battle against disease and death. Many times, she lost, but sometimes she won.
Watching her best friend smile adoringly at her husband, Alice was glad this was one of the latter occasions. When Edward leaned down to give his wife yet another kiss, Alice shook her head. Witnessing displays of affection was a risk one had to take when visiting the unconventional Lord and Lady Masen.
"But I am better, aren't I?" Isabella looked to Alice while tugging Edward down to sit beside her on the bed. "The fever has broken, and my belly is no longer tender."
Alice nodded her agreement while measuring another dose of the vile concoction into a glass. "You're making excellent progress, but I want you to stay on the tonic for a few more days to be on the safe side."
Alice would not be taking any chances with her best friend, the only member of the local society not to abandon her when Alice had been tossed from her home upon the death of her father, Lord Brandon. She had feared for Isabella's life from the moment she had suspected Isabella was falling for the returned viscount while nursing him back to health. The curse that had plagued the Masen family had caused the death of every viscountess for five generations, either at the time of or soon after the birth of the next Masen heir. Alice had been dismayed when her best friend had wed the recovered viscount. When she had become with child, despite Edward's best efforts to prevent such a disaster from occurring, an unexpected bond had formed between the village healer and the despairing lord. Losing Isabella to the curse was a blow from which she doubted either of them would have recovered.
Alice had been focused on the additional risks inherent in Isabella's delivering what Alice had thought was an extra big baby, courtesy of Isabella's larger than average husband. So focused, she had missed the fact her friend had been carrying twins. The births of David—a good-sized babe by any standard—followed by his much smaller sister, Elizabeth—a complete surprise—had proven the curse was broken. The previous Masen wives only ever delivered one child before their demise, a son. But that hadn't meant Isabella was out of the woods. Weakened by the long and exhausting labour, she had developed a fever a few days after the twins were born. Thankfully, three and a half weeks later, the danger seemed to have passed.
"Drink up." Alice handed her normally pragmatic patient the glass of dark liquid.
"Oh, very well." Isabella took a deep breath then downed her medicine, a shudder racking her body as she swallowed the last drop. "I swear it gets worse every time."
Edward chuckled. "You used to rebuke me for swearing when I had to take it."
"Don't forget the spitting."
The couple shared another intimate look, but this time, rather than smile indulgently, Alice felt a lump form in her throat. She turned away and busied herself with putting the lid back on the bottle and returning it to the sideboard.
While happy her friend had found a husband, she couldn't help feeling a little wistful. Alice would never marry and have babes of her own. She did not regret her decision, not that she'd had a great deal of choice in the matter. But she had always assumed Isabella would journey with her on the path of spinsterhood, that's if the designation applied to one of Alice's dubious standing. She might live amongst ordinary folk, but having been raised and educated as a lady set her apart from them, stranding her in that strange nether land between gentry and commoner. It seemed whatever path she was on, Alice was destined to walk it alone.
Forcing any trace of self-pity from her expression, she turned back to her patient.
"As consolation for having to stay on the tonic a little longer, how would you like to spend some time out of bed today?"
Her offer was met with a beaming smile from Isabella and a predictable frown from Edward. When Isabella went to throw back the bed covers, he hastily placed a hand on his wife's arm.
"Are you sure it's not too soon?" he asked Alice. "We wouldn't want to risk a relapse."
"I'd be more worried about death from boredom if I have to stay in bed for another day," Isabella muttered, although her expression softened when her husband flinched. "I promise not to overdo it, and I will take a nap before dinner without complaint, but I only get to see the babies when they're brought in for me to nurse. I'm desperate to view them sleeping together in their crib."
"It is lovely," Alice agreed with a soft smile. The only way Edward and the nannies had been able to coax the fractious twins to sleep was to ensure they were close enough to hold hands, a sight that could melt the hardest of hearts. "And a little walking around will do you good, as you're sure to be stiff after so long in bed."
Helping her friend put on her robe, Alice sent Edward a reassuring look. She couldn't blame him for being wary, as after the euphoria of the births, Isabella's succumbing to fever had been a frightening development.
Once in the nursery, Alice spent a moment admiring the sleeping babes before informing the happy parents it was time for her to depart. Her great aunt was feeling poorly, and she didn't like leaving her alone for too long.
"May I have a word before you go?" Isabella asked, leaving her husband by the cot and catching up with Alice at the door. "In private," she added in a whisper.
"Isabella?" Edward was afflicted with a limp and only partial use of one arm, but there was nothing wrong with his hearing. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
"Never you mind." Isabella shooed him away when he crossed the room. "I just need a moment with Alice . . . alone."
Leaving her husband with a puzzled frown on his face, Isabella waited until they were out in the hallway to question Alice further.
"It's only been a month, which I am aware is too soon, but I was wondering how long before it is safe to resume marital relations."
Alice raised a brow. "Keen, are we?"
"Not overly." Isabella fanned her suddenly flushed cheeks. "Not yet anyway."
"Edward's not pressuring you, is he?" Alice's teasing manner gave way to concern.
"Of course not." Isabella huffed. "You know how he is. If I told him we must wait six months, he wouldn't utter a word of complaint. I just wanted to find out if there is a specific time frame for these things. And, more importantly, if you know of any safer methods than withdrawal for ensuring I don't become with child again too soon."
"You want more children?"
"In time." Isabella nodded before pulling a face. "If I can get Edward to agree that it is safe."
"That's a big if." Alice couldn't imagine the viscount being willing to put his wife at risk again in a hurry, but if there was one thing she had learned as a midwife, it was that memories of even traumatic events tended to fade. "In the meantime, I suggest you wait another few weeks until you're feeling more like your old self and the infection is well and truly behind you. As to preventing conception, the only method I can suggest other than abstinence or withdrawal, a dicey proposition at best, is the insertion of a vinegar-soaked sea sponge. It's supposed to be quite effective, the acid neutralising the husband's seed, but I wouldn't recommend it until you're fully healed from the births."
Isabella winced. "That's a novel approach, but I think you're right about waiting a while. Ah well." She breathed a long sigh. "At least you're talking weeks, not months."
"You are keen." Alice rolled her eyes, recalling some of the outrageous tales Isabella had insisted on telling her, extolling the joys of marital bliss.
"You would be just as keen if you had a husband as wonderful as mine," Isabella retorted before her face fell. "Oh, Alice, I am sorry. That was tactless of me. Although I am sure there are plenty of gentlemen who would come calling if they thought you were interested. Gentlemen willing to overlook . . ."
Isabella's enthusiasm was quelled by Alice's glare.
"Just as there were plenty of gentlemen before Edward, lining up to court you and your sisters when you all were devoid of dowry? Not that a dowry would improve my marital prospects, so don't go getting any ideas in that overly generous head of yours."
"But it would significantly reduce any objections a gentleman might have to considering you as a prospective bride." Isabella reached for her friend's hand. "You are an intelligent, beautiful woman, and I am sure if I were to ask Edward he could suggest some potential candidates—"
"Willing to marry the illegitimate daughter of a deceased lord, one whose family have abandoned her?" Alice gave a rueful snort. "My eligibility is irrelevant, Isabella, as you know I have no desire to wed."
"But marriage is wonderful, Alice. You've no idea what you're missing. I certainly didn't. Will you at least think about it?"
"I have thought about it, and the last thing I need is a husband to tell me what I can and cannot do. How many gentlemen do you know that would allow their wives to practise midwifery?" Alice was unsurprised when Isabella dropped her gaze. "That's right. Not one. Not even your Edward would stretch the bounds of propriety that far, and we both agree he's something of an aberration."
"He might," Isabella said, though her expression was doubtful.
"Well, he doesn't have a benevolent twin, and I have no intention of spending my days waiting for an opportunity to stroke some gentleman's already overblown ego. It's the life of an unwed and, thankfully, independent woman for me."
~D&D~
"Whitlock, are you still here?"
At the sound of Masen's call, Jasper left the shadowed stall and met him in the wide central aisle of the stables.
"Just checking out your new stallion. He's a beauty."
"He should be. He cost me enough," Masen said before reaching to shake Jasper's hand. Technically, Jasper should bow to his employer and societal superior, but his previous role as the man's commanding officer blurred the lines of their current relationship.
"I take it Miss Brandon was able to deliver good news about your wife?"
Masen's grin was answer enough, but he went one step further, engulfing Jasper in a hug.
"Bloody marvellous news." He released Jasper only to pound his back with his right hand, which more than made up for his almost useless left.
"Steady on." Jasper's laugh faded, and concern coloured his tone. "You are sure Her Ladyship's in the clear? You don't think you should get a second opinion?"
Masen stepped back. "I can't believe you still doubt Miss Brandon's abilities. Do you honestly think Dr Gerandy would have seen Isabella safely through the births of the twins, let alone the fever that followed?"
"Of course not. He's a drunken sot. But there are better physicians, properly trained—"
"Who would never have allowed me to stay with my wife for the births. Alice understood what it meant to Isabella to have me there, precedent be damned. She knew how to turn Elizabeth when she was stuck, and Isabella's lady's maid had the bright idea to, well, never mind. Sorry to go into details."
"That's perfectly all right," Jasper lied, doing his best to hide his squeamishness over the indelicate topic. "Miss Brandon seems a competent midwife, I'll give her that, but I do wish you wouldn't put your eggs all in one basket."
"Isn't that what you're doing?" Masen eyed him shrewdly as they made their way back to the manor during a break in the rain. "I don't see you trying anything with Peter other than conventional practices."
"Yes, but I've got the best physicians the country has to offer consulting on his case. Why would I seek the advice of some untrained village healer?"
"Why, indeed?"
Jasper tensed, but all he saw was concern in his friend's gaze. The argument was well worn and one he was in no mood to revisit. He had received word of a senior physician who might finally have the answer to what was ailing his son, but the cost of having the man travel from London to Forkton in a private carriage, and putting him up at quality inns along the way, was exorbitant. While he could all but guarantee Masen would offer to help if he knew how close to the bottom of the barrel his estate manager was scraping, Jasper's pride wouldn't allow it. Nor did he dare give his friend any opportunity to discourage him. He was holding onto hope by a fraying cord as it was.
"I suppose you still think I should employ a surgeon for the district?" Masen asked.
The issue was one about which Jasper felt strongly, compelling him to respond when he would have preferred a change of topic.
"I'll agree Miss Brandon and her assistants did a commendable job aiding the wounded after the last mining incident, but she's pushing the limits setting bones and stitching wounds. What if an amputation had been needed?"
"My guess is she would have managed it as well as she does everything else required of her." Masen raised a hand when Jasper would have remonstrated. "But you are right. Performing surgery on such a scale would likely see her before the courts."
"You'll consider advertising for a reputable surgeon?"
"If there is such a thing," Masen muttered. "I shall discuss the matter with Miss Brandon. Maybe we can find someone willing to work under the oversight of a female."
Jasper snorted, the odds so slim as to be non-existent. Not wanting to offend his employer by calling him on what he secretly thought was a foolhardy idea, he let the matter drop.
"About the incident." Masen paused when they reached the cover of the manor's portico. "Have there been any more?"
"Petty thefts, minor acts of vandalism, but nothing so severe. I've set guards on all the mines, the mills, and anywhere else I think more serious damage could be done."
Jasper was furious the sabotage was occurring on his watch and targeting a man who had already endured enough. It especially galled in the face of his employer's generosity, not to mention the measures Masen had implemented to make up for the damage inflicted by his predecessors.
"Are we any closer to finding the culprit?"
Jasper shook his head. "Whoever he is, he seems to be looking for something while making a proper nuisance of himself."
"Causing an accident at the flour mill that nearly cost lives is a hell of a lot more than a nuisance," Masen retorted. "We've lost enough men, and boys, in those damned mines Crowley set up without my knowledge, proper approval, or even the most basic attempt at providing a safe environment. If it wasn't for the war office needing all the raw materials we can supply, I'd have shut them down long ago."
Jasper nodded at his employer's oft-repeated complaint. "We're doing what we can to improve conditions and taking care of the families that have lost fathers and sons."
"It's something, I suppose. But we need to find the perpetrator of these attacks, or a surgeon won't be all we require. Thornlie's undertaker has been overworked for too long."
Jasper didn't disagree. He was just relieved the morbid fellow wouldn't be needed at Masen Manor any time soon. With Lady Masen on the way to recovery, an air of suppressed jubilation permeated the hallways, as he accompanied his employer to his office. Even Houghton, the normally stoic butler, seemed ready to crack a smile.
Relieved for his friend, Jasper wished he could be confident his own situation would turn out so well.
~D&D~
A nice long chapter to get us started with lots going on. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story. My thoughts, and some historical information some of you might find interesting, are located below.
xx Elise
.
.
.
.
It's funny, as I don't like arguments in real life, but I quite enjoy Alice and Jasper's verbal sparring. I purposefully didn't mention Isabella's childbed fever in the last story, as I think we've all seen the poor woman suffer enough. Post birth infections were a huge cause of death during this era, as many doctors did not wash their hands or even change their clothes between assisting at births, as being bloodstained was a source of pride...and infection. While Alice would have been careful, I thought it quite likely that Isabella might have developed an infection after such a long and stressful labour. Thankfully, Alice's healing prowess and antibacterial herbal remedies have once again saved the day. Now if she can just get Jasper to take a chance on her 'witchy ways' to save his son!
Anyone else have a chuckle at Bella's 'almost' eagerness to reinstate marital intimacies with her beloved husband? (There is a later scene, where it becomes apparent she has gotten her way, that I can almost guarantee will be high on the list of requested outtakes!)
One of the Amazon reviewers of Passion and Propriety mentioned that my stories, while mostly historically accurate, have the feel of 'speculative fiction'. I'm not too proud to admit I had to go look that up. It means fantasy or otherwordly, and I can't deny my heroines, and heroes in Edward's case, are a tad forward-thinking for the times. The vinegar (or lemon juice) soaked sea sponge was a real thing with a very high protection rate against infection and conception. It was definitely in use during this era by women who chose, or were forced, to sell their bodies, but I have been unable to find any references for the method being used by married women. Death from both the dangers of childbirth and repeated pregnancies (many women bore ten or more children, some upward of twenty!) was very common, and I don't feel I can give my heroine's much of an HEA if they don't have any control over their fertility and their own bodies.