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Standard disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or the characters, neither do I own Cold Hearted Rake.
Thank you Taz and Guest for your kind, encouraging words. I am forever grateful.
Hello and thank you Tina, I am humbled and grateful.
It was Will's misfortune, to have gone to the study, at the same time Gwen and Arthur went there to do battle.
"What's happening?" he asked, glancing from one set face to the other.
"Lady Cassandra and Harcourt," Arthur said, in a brief and clearly expressed matter.
Glancing at Gwen's accusing face, Will winced and tugged at his necktie.
"There's no need for me to take part in the discussion, is there?" he asked, ready to bolt for the door.
"Did you know about the courtship?" Gwen demanded of him.
"I might have," he muttered.
"Then yes, you will stay and explain, why you didn't talk your brother out of this appalling idea."
Will looked indignant.
"When have I ever been able to talk either of you out of anything?"
Gwen turned her glare on Arthur.
"If you truly intend to do this to Cassandra, then, you're as cold-hearted as I first thought you were."
"Do what?" Arthur started. "Help to secure a match that will give her wealth, status in society, and a family of her own?"
"Status in his society, not ours. You know quite well, that the peerage will say she's lowered herself."
"Most of the people who will say that, are the same ones who would refuse to touch her with a barge pole, if she decided to take part in the season," Arthur snapped.
He went to the fireplace and braced his hands on the marble mantel, the firelight playing over his face and hair.
"I'm aware that this isn't an ideal match for my cousin. But Harcourt isn't as objectionable as you've made him out to be. She may even come to love him in time."
"Given enough time," Gwen said scornfully. "She could convince herself to love a plague-infested rat or a toothless leper. That doesn't mean she should marry him."
"I'm positive that Lady Cassandra would never marry a rat," Will said, helpfully.
Arthur picked up a fire iron and poked at the blaze on the grate, stirring up a storm of dancing sparks.
"Until now, Cassandra has never had a chance of making any kind of match," he started and sent Gwen a hard glance over his shoulder. "What you seem unwilling to accept, is that, no gentleman of stature, is going to choose a future of poverty with a girl he loves over wealth...with a girl he merely tolerates."
"There might be a few," Gwen said, and at Arthur's derisive glance, she said defensively, "There might be one. Why can't we allow her a chance to find him?"
"That would mean giving up any possibility of marrying Harcourt. And then, if Cassandra doesn't succeed in bringing someone up to scratch during the season, she'll have nothing," Will broke in.
"In that case, she can live with me," Gwen said. "I'll find a cottage in the country, where she and I will live off the income from my jointure."
Turning from the fireplace, Arthur gave her a narrow-eyed glance.
"How do I fit into your future plans?"
A hostile silence followed.
"I really don't think I should be here," Will said to the ceiling.
"You're able to take care of yourself," Gwen told Arthur. "Cassandra can't. She'll have no protection against Harcourt, if he should mistreat her."
"Of course she will. Will and I will always protect her."
"You should be protecting her now."
Angrily, Will stood and strode to the door.
"Is this what it's like to have a family?" he asked irritably. "Endless arguing, and talking about feelings from dawn to dusk? When the devil can I do as I please and not have to account to a half-dozen people for it?"
"When you live alone on an island, with a single palm tree and a coconut," Gwen snapped. "And even then, I'm sure you would find the coconut far too demanding."
Will regarded them both sourly.
"I've had enough of this. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to find a tavern, where I can pay an under-dressed woman to sit in my lap and look very pleased with me, while I drink heavily."
As he left, he closed the study door with unnecessary force, rattling pictures on the wall.
Folding her arms across her chest, Gwen glowered at Arthur.
"Cassandra will never admit what she wants. She's spent her entire life trying not to be a bother to anyone. She'd marry the devil himself, if she thought it would help the family. And she's well aware, that Hampshire Priory would stand to benefit."
"She's not a child. She's a woman of one-and-twenty. Perhaps, you didn't notice just now, that she behaved with far more composure than you or I."
On a callous note, Arthur added gently,
"And although it might surprise you, a lifetime of living under your thumb, may not appeal to her."
Gwen stared at him, her mouth opening and closing, as she tried to find words. When she was finally able to speak, her voice was thick with loathing.
"I can't believe I ever let you touch me."
Unable to bear being in the same room with him for another minute, she fled the study and rushed upstairs.
For more than an hour afterwards, Gwen and Cassandra spoke intently, in the small anteroom adjacent to the drawing room.
And to Gwen's dismay, she seemed not only willing to be courted by Mr. Harcourt, but she was actually resolved to it.
"He doesn't want you for the right reasons," Gwen said in concern. "He wants a wife who will advance his ambitions. And no doubt, he thinks of you as an aristocratic broodmare."
Cassandra smiled slightly.
"Isn't that also how men of our class, judge the value of a potential wife?"
An impatient sigh escaped Gwen's lips.
"Dear, you must admit, that you and he are worlds apart!"
"Yes, he and I are quite different," Cassandra admitted. "That's why I intend to proceed with caution. But I have reasons of my own, for agreeing to the courtship. And while I don't wish to explain all of them...I will tell you, that I felt a moment of connection with him, when he stayed at the Priory."
"While you were nursing him through the fever? Because if so, that was pity, not a connection."
"No, it happened after that," Cassandra replied, then continued, before Gwen could offer more objections.
"I know very little about him. But I would like to learn more." Taking Gwen's hands in hers, she pressed them firmly and went on to say,
"For the time being, please don't object to the courtship. For my sake."
Reluctantly, Gwen nodded.
"Very well."
"And about Lord Pendragon," Cassandra kindly said. "You mustn't blame him for trying to..."
"Sweetheart," Gwen interrupted quietly. "Forgive me, but I do blame him...for reasons you know nothing about."
The next morning, Arthur escorted the Pendragon women to the British Museum.
Gwen would have preferred Will to accompany them, but he was staying at his private terrace apartment, which he had maintained, even after moving to Hampshire Priory.
Still outraged by Arthur's deception, and his hurtful remarks of the previous night, Gwen avoided speaking to him, any more than was strictly necessary.
So this morning, they were both wielding polite words and razor-thin smiles, like weapons.
Faced with the museum's enormous quantity of art exhibitions, the Pendragon sisters elected to visit the Egyptian gallery first.
Clutching pamphlets and guidebooks, they spent most of the morning, examining every object in the exhibit.
They lingered for a long time at the Rosetta stone, marveling at the hieroglyphs, scripted on its polished front surface.
And while Arthur browsed over a nearby exhibit of weaponry, Cassandra wandered to Gwen, who was looking at a glass case of ancient coins.
"There are so many galleries in this museum," she remarked. "We could visit every day for a month, and still not see everything."
"Certainly not at this rate," Gwen said, watching, as Bia and Athena opened their sketch tablets and began to copy some of the hieroglyphs.
Following her gaze, Cassandra said,
"They're enjoying this immensely. So am I. It seems, we've all been starved for more culture and stimulation, than Hampshire can offer."
"London has an abundance of both," Gwen said, trying to sound light. "I suppose, Mr. Harcourt has that on his side...you would never be bored," she added.
"No, indeed."
Cassandra paused before asking cautiously,
"Regarding Mr. Harcourt, may we invite him to dinner? I would like to thank him in person for the music box."
Gwen frowned.
"Yes. Lord Pendragon will invite him if you wish. However, you should be aware of how inappropriate that music box is. It was a lovely and generous gift, but we should give it back."
"I can't," Cassandra whispered with a frown. "It would hurt his feelings."
"It would hurt your reputation."
"No one has to know, do they? Couldn't we consider it as a gift for the family?"
Before she replied, Gwen thought of all the rules she had broken and the sins she had committed...some small, some far more egregious, than accepting an inappropriate gift.
Her mouth curved in wry resignation.
"Why not?" she said, and took Cassandra's arm. "Come help me stop Bia...she's trying to open a mummy case."
To Cassandra's mingled consternation and excitement, Mr. Harcourt accepted an invitation to dinner, the very next evening.
She wanted very much to see him, almost as much as she dreaded it.
However, he arrived punctually and was shown to the main floor drawing room, where the Pendragons had gathered.
Although his broken leg was still healing, the cast had been removed and he walked with the use of a wooden cane, but Cassandra still thought him very handsome and striking.
His eyes met hers, dark heat framed with dark lashes, and she felt a nervous flutter.
Maintaining her composure, she gave him a neutral smile, wishing she had the confidence to say something charming or flirtatious.
To her chagrin, her sisters, Bia and Athena...two years younger than her...were by far, more comfortable with Mr. Harcourt, than she was.
They regaled him with nonsense, such as asking, whether there was a sword concealed in his cane, and describing the mummified dogs in the Egyptian gallery.
And, he both answered their question and listened with rapt attention, with an amused smile on his face.
As the group went in to dinner, a moment of perplexity ensued, when it was discovered, that the twins had written the name cards in hieroglyphics.
"We thought everyone might want to guess which one was theirs," Bia informed them, happily.
"Thankfully, I'm at the head of the table," Arthur said.
"This is mine," Mr. Harcourt said, gesturing to one name card. "And I believe, Lady Cassandra is seated next to me."
"How did you know?" Athena asked. "Are you familiar with hieroglyphics, Mr. Harcourt?"
He smiled.
"I counted the letters." Picking up the name card, he regarded it closely. "It's cleverly drawn, especially the little bird."
"Can you tell what kind of bird it is?" Bia asked hopefully.
"A penguin?" he guessed.
"I told you it looked like a penguin," Athena told her sister triumphantly.
"It's a quail," Bia said to Harcourt, heaving a sigh. "My penmanship is no better in ancient Egyptian, than it is in English."
At the conclusion of dinner, the gentlemen remained at the table and the ladies withdrew for tea.
"You were so dreadfully quiet at dinner, Cassandra," Bia stated, as soon as they had entered the drawing room.
"Bia," Gwen reproved softly.
And Athena came to her twin's defense.
"But it's true. Cassandra was as talkative as a fern."
"I wasn't certain what to say to him," Cassandra admitted. "I didn't want to make a mistake."
"You did very well," Gwen said. "Conversing with strangers isn't easy."
"It is, if you don't care what you say," Bia advised.
"Or what their opinion of you might be," Athena added.
Gwen sent Cassandra a private glance of comical despair.
"They'll never be ready for the season," she whispered, and Cassandra bit back a grin.
At the end of the evening, when Mr. Harcourt was donning his hat and gloves in the entrance hall, Cassandra impulsively picked up her potted orchid from a table in the drawing room, and brought it to him.
"Mr. Harcourt," she said earnestly, "I would like very much for you to have this."
He gave her a questioning glance, as she pushed the pot into his hands.
"It's a Blue Vanda orchid," she explained.
"What should I do with it?" he asked.
"You might wish to keep it in a place where you can see it often. Remember, that it doesn't like to be cold and wet, or hot and dry. Whenever it's moved to a new environment, the Vanda usually becomes distressed, so don't be alarmed if a flower shrivels and drops off. Generally, it's best not to set it where there may be a draft, or too much sun. Or too much shadow. And never place it next to a bowl of fruit."
She gave him an encouraging glance.
"Later, I'll give you a special tonic to mist over it."
As Mr. Harcourt stared at the exotic flower in his hands with perplexed reluctance, Cassandra began to regret her spontaneous action.
He didn't seem to want the gift, but she couldn't very well ask to have it back, so she decided to be diplomatic about it.
"You needn't take it if you don't want it," she said. "I would understand..."
"I want it," he replied, looking into her eyes and smiling slightly. "Thank you."
She nodded and watched forlornly, as he departed with the orchid caught firmly in his grasp.
"Wow! you gave him the Blue Vanda," Bia said in wonder, coming to stand beside her.
"Yes."
Athena came to her other side.
"The most diabolically temperamental orchid of your entire collection."
Cassandra sighed.
"Yes."
"He'll kill it within a week," Gwen said flatly. "Any of us would."
"Yes."
"Then why did you give it to him?" Gwen asked.
Cassandra frowned and gestured with her palms up.
"I wanted him to have something special."
"He has thousands of special things from all over the world," Bia pointed out.
"Something special from me," Cassandra clarified gently, and no one asked her about it after that.
Just three more chapters left.
Stay safe!