The counterfeit attachme.., p.31
The Counterfeit Attachment, page 31
They were several steps away before he spoke.
“Miss Radforde, first I must tell you that I know of your mother’s opposition and I believe I can bring her around.”
“Oh, sir. I do not think––”
“I am sure you believe it is not my place but since marrying you is important to my son, it is important to me. I will not lie to you. I do not see your merit but I am trying to trust his judgement. Before I speak with your mother I would like some assurances. Many a man has been ruined by a bad wife.”
His honesty might have shocked Charity if she was not well-acquainted with Edmund.
“I honor your concern for your son, sir,” she said. “I too have his interest near to my heart. I intend to be his partner, to support his endeavors as he has supported mine.”
“You would not object then to him going to America or some other foreign land?”
Charity shook her head. “No, sir. I would like to accompany him on such journeys.”
Lord Glenhaven stopped walking and turned to look her full in the face. “You would?”
“Yes, I want to be a part of his work, I want to help him with his discoveries.”
He furrowed his brow much like Edmund. “My dear girl, I do not believe you understand the hardships of such a journey.”
“I am well acquainted with accounts of similar journeys. I understand that we will be months from civilization, sleeping outside and at the mercy of the elements and local inhabitants. I understand there might be sickness and starvation. I understand that the days will be long but the work rewarding. Most of all I understand that I do not wish to stay at home waiting for Edmund’s return. I want to live with him, not apart.”
Lord Glenhaven did not make an immediate reply but the upturn of his lips spoke volumes. He glanced back, to the entrance where Edmund stood with Penelope. Then looked at Charity.
“Well, I must apologize, it seems I misjudged you. I believe you will be a good match for Edmund.”
“If we can manage to get married, I believe we will be very happy.” Charity said.
“I agree,” Lord Glenhaven said.
He led her back to the entrance and an anxious faced Edmund. Penelope raised her eyebrows but did not speak.
“Come, it is time we settle this matter,” Lord Glenhaven said. “Mrs. Aston?” He offered his arm to Penelope and they moved toward the house.
“What did he say?” Edmund asked.
Charity smiled reassuringly. “He wanted to make sure I would be a good wife to you.”
Edmund frowned. “I hope you told him it was not his concern.”
Taking his arm, Charity urged him to walk. “I told him that I would support your endeavors and that I was going to America with you.”
Edmund paused, and turned to her. “You said what?”
“You do still wish me to accompany you?”
“Of course, but only, I have made plans to stay in London. Father offered––but I suppose that doesn’t matter if––Do you truly wish to go?” He sounded awed by the idea.
“I do. Truly, Edmund, nothing would make me happier.”
Their eyes met, his were so bright and excited she nearly giggled.
They reached the door. The footman opened it with wide eyes. Charity was sure he was under instructions to deny Edmund but he could not do so when Edmund was already with Charity.
Lord Glenhaven strode into the house with chin held at an aristocratic angle. Anticipation coiled in Charity’s stomach. What would the baron do? What would he say? Would he demand mother give her approval?
Penelope led them to the drawing room. With each step, Charity’s heart beat harder and sweat began to dampen her gloves. She held tighter to Edmund’s arm. She wanted Lord Glenhaven to succeed but she had no notion how he might win.
“I shall go in with Mrs. Aston to introduce me,” Lord Glenhaven said. “You two may wait here.”
Charity was happy to stay outside but Edmund objected.
“Really, Father, I feel I should be there.”
“Trust me son, it will go better if we do not have an audience.”
After a long moment, Edmund nodded his agreement.
Lord Glenhaven patted his shoulder and then moved to the door. Charity pulled Edmund to the wall, so Mother would not see them but they would still be able to listen.
As Penelope pushed open the door, Charity held her breath.
“Look who has come to visit,” Penelope said brightly.
Charity imagined the brief look of shock and outrage that must have flashed across Mother’s face like lightening.
“Lord Glenhaven, what an honor,” Mother said sweetly. “Charity did not inform me that you intended to visit today.”
“That is my fault, ma’am. I did not tell anyone of my plan.”
Charity was taken aback by Lord Glenhaven’s soothing tones. She had expected him to demand what he wanted. Did he think to charm Mother instead?
She shared a look with Edmund, he shrugged.
“I came on rather urgent business,” Lord Glenhaven said. “You see I am most anxious for the union of our families. A feeling I am sure you share.”
“Well, I am of course very flattered by Mr. Glenhaven’s offer.”
“It is my family that is honored by Miss Radforde’s acceptance,” he countered smoothly.
“But Mr. Radforde must approve the match and he is presently not in the country.” Mother spoke as if she truly regretted the circumstance.
“So I understand. But unlike others of your sex, you are competent and knowledgable. Certainly your husband trusts your judgment in these matters?”
“Of course he does,” Mother said a little sharply.
“Excellent, then I think you and I might discuss the settlements. Once they are arranged we can send word to your husband. I am sure he will approve of whatever you decide.”
There was a long pause.
Charity could almost hear Mother weighing her decision. If she refused she risked offending an influential aristocrat and damaging her standing in the best circles. If she agreed she would achieve a victory over her husband. For Father could not reject a reasonable settlement without angering Lord Glenhaven and dishonoring himself.
Charity marveled at the neatness of the trap. She glanced at Edmund and saw he was equally impressed.
“Very well, Lord Glenhaven, let us discuss the settlements,” Mother said.
“As you wish, Mrs. Radforde.”
Charity turned to Edmund in disbelief. With one clever, charming, conversation, Lord Glenhaven had solved her conundrum. It might have been more satisfying to have Mother chastised and groveling but Charity knew that would never happen. Charity did not need revenge, she only needed to be free of her cage. Her heart was ready to burst from relief and joy.
Mother and Lord Glenhaven began to discuss particulars and Edmund pulled Charity further down the hall.
“We truly are going to marry,” she murmured.
“As quickly as we might,” Edmund added. “I do not want you living here longer than necessary.” His knuckles brushed her cheek tenderly.
She sighed and touched her forehead to his. Soon they would be husband and wife and she would be half a world away from Mother.
When she came to London, marriage was the last thing she wanted. She had done everything, including engaging in a sham courtship, to escape her fate. But now, betrothed to a man who valued her and respected her, she could think of nothing she wanted more than to be his wife.
Together they would travel and catalog the world. They would be partners, sharing difficulties and victories, long conversations and companionable silences. She would never tire of learning new things with him and about him.
Their future was an unplanted garden and she could not wait to see what they would grow together.
Epilogue
Eighteen Months Later
The sun was a ball of orange sinking into a sea of grass. Edmund smelled woodsmoke and cooking meat on the wind. The party had shot a deer that afternoon and all were eager for the coming feast. The evening was alive with the sounds of the grasslands. Crickets chirped, an owl hooted, and in the distance, there was a curious barking sound.
The barking was not from some species of canine, but a curious burrowing animal known as the prairie dog.
The prairie dog had been briefly described in the journals of Captain Lewis. Edmund had taken up the study of the animal with great interest, pausing their progress several times to jump to the ground and inspect mounds and burrows.
The French trapper that was serving as their guide found his behavior amusing. He did not see what was so fascinating about the animal or the land.
Edmund and Charity had spent several hours discussing the taxonomy of the creatures. They seemed to be something between a rabbit and a squirrel. Their days were often filled with lively debates and discussions about all they were seeing and documenting on their journey. Edmund could not imagine what the expedition would have been like without her. Their partnership was all that he could have hoped for and more.
In the end, they had determined not to go all the way to the Rocky Mountains. There was enough to explore and catalogue just beyond the Mississippi River.
Everyone they spoke to in Boston had described this part of the continent as a great desert. But once the expedition had reached the area, it was clear this was not the case. There was a unique harmony of nature at work in the land. A connection between the tall grasses, animals, and soils that both Edmund and Charity agreed must be investigated.
He glanced at his wife. She was sitting in a camp chair near the fire, her head bent over a large sketchbook as she tried to finish her drawing before it became too dark to see. He marveled at the slope of her neck, the hair that brushed her cheek. He smiled at the wrinkle in her forehead as she worked. He must be the most fortunate man alive to spend his life with her.
Her keen mind and quick observations were invaluable, not to mention her artistic skill. Mrs. Meen had been a very good teacher, refining Charity’s abilities with remarkable speed and quickly declaring her a master.
Edmund couldn’t believe he had contemplated making this journey alone. He was grateful every day for a managing mother and stubborn father.
Charity looked up from her paper and caught his gaze. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You were thinking about something.”
“I was thinking how grateful I am that I agreed to your mad scheme.”
“Which one?”
He chuckled and moved to stand behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and softly kneaded them. She gave a slight murmur of approval and leaned into his touch.
The rigors of the trail had been worse than anticipated. Experiencing days in the saddle was very different from reading about it. There were weeks of sore muscles and bad food.
At times, their exhaustion or frustration led to sharp words. But their habit of honesty helped them to navigate their arguments.
He glanced down at her paper and was surprised to see it filled with words instead of a drawing.
“Are you writing a letter?” he asked.
“I know it is silly since there is no way to send it, but I feel closer to them when I write.”
“Do you miss them terribly?”
“I do. I miss many things, but not so much that I wish my life any different.” She tilted her neck to allow him better access to the knots in her shoulder. “And they are all so busy with their own affairs that I am sure they feel the same.”
“For my part, I am glad you are with me and not writing letters to me.” He bent down and swiftly kissed behind her ear.
She hummed her appreciation. “That is one benefit of this journey.”
“My kisses or my company?”
“Both.” She smiled up at him.
He chuckled and kissed her on the lips. He meant it to be brief, but she reached up, twined her hands in his hair, and deepened the kiss. They pulled away, breathing heavy and grinning. He would never get tired of such affection.
He straightened and resumed his massage of her shoulders.
“Do you ever think what might have happened if that tiger hadn’t roared and caused such a commotion?” She asked.
“I shudder to think. We would have been introduced at dinner and had a boring civil conversation about the weather.”
“Are you sure you would’ve been civil?” She raised her eyebrows.
“No, probably not. I was determined to shake off any woman my mother threw at me.”
“And I would have talked of silly things as I tried to be the perfect lady.”
“To me, you are the perfect lady.”
“Oh, Edmund.” She patted his hand.
“I am not sure I ever thanked you properly for saving my life,” he said.
“I don’t think that horse would have killed you. Only knocked you senseless, maybe broken a few bones.”
“Not for saving me in front of the Exchange, though I am grateful for your quick reaction.”
“Then how else did I save your life?” She tipped her head to look at him with her eyebrows pinched together. He smoothed the small wrinkle there with his thumb.
“You saved my life by showing me that I did not need anyone’s approval to achieve my dreams, not my father’s and not Sir Joseph’s. If not for you, I may never have humbled myself and looked elsewhere.”
Her cheeks became a delightful pink. She ducked her head and then met his eyes again. The blue of her eyes had turned dark in the twilight.
“And you saved me from always hiding and cowering. Without you, I never would have stood up to my mother or escaped her.”
They looked at each other for a long moment until the ringing of the dinner bell broke them apart.
Edmund helped her to stand and kept her hand firmly in his as they crossed to the glowing fire.
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Author’s Note
One of my favorite things about historical fiction is doing research. Grounding the story with real details is a big part of my writing process. As a result, lots of little things in this story are as accurate as I can make them.
Sir Joseph Banks really did see people on Thursdays, Exeter Exchange had an elephant named Chuny that would strut around London, Mrs. Meen taught botanical painting to the royal family, and all the items in Bullock’s museum were actually there. The Picture of London is a real guidebook and I used it extensively in my research. To review every historical tidbit I included is not practical but I did want to note a few historical liberties.
The biggest departure from the historical record was having the characters eat a banana. The first recording of a banana tree bearing fruit in England is 1835 by Sir Joseph Paxton, gardener to William Cavendish, the Sixth Duke of Devonshire. This was notable because the hybrid Paxton developed revolutionized banana production around the world. The Cavendish banana is the variety most of us are familiar with today.
Banana trees were found in many hothouses, including those at Kew, but they did not bear fruit. Or if they did it was not noted in histories since they did not produce a consistently successful harvest. I decided that it was entirely possible that the royal gardeners managed to grow some bananas occasionally.
I did extensive research on Russell Square and tried to portray it accurately but an important detail is omitted from the story. During the Regency the squares of London were not public spaces but reserved for those living nearby. It would take almost 100 years before someone could stroll into Russell Square without a key to the gates. One draft tried to include this detail but it proved cumbersome to the narrative.
Another more obvious fiction is that The Linnean Society did not fund an expedition to the Rocky Mountains. However, expeditions to America, and around the world, were common and many were funded by various learned societies throughout the 18th and 19th centuries.
I also took great liberties in my depiction of real people like Sir Joseph Banks, Miss Sarah, Robert Brown, and Franz Bauer. I attempted to base their characters in reality but they are mostly creations of my imagination.
If you are interested in learning more about London in the Regency you might consider buying my non-fiction book The Proper Guide to Regency London, releasing later in 2023.
If you have found an error or would like to correspond about any of the historic or other aspects of the book, feel free to contact me through my website or social media.
About the Author
Holli Jo is a country girl who joined the Army and became a Captain before leaving the service to travel and pursue writing. She enjoys all genres as long as they have some romance. Holli Jo has survived live nerve agent training, deployed to Afghanistan, climbed Kilimanjaro, backpacked around the world, and SCUBA dived in Bali so she knows that sometimes staying home with a book is the best adventure of all.
