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  A Seven Year Hitch

  Mary Beeken

  Copyright © 2012 Mary Beeken

  All rights reserved.

  DEDICATION

  To Andy, Erika and Markus with all my love.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank my family and friends for their continuing love and support.

  Many thanks also to Margaret Nicklin who has been a good friend for many years and without whom this book would not have been published.

  A special thank you goes to Dizzy and Minnie for keeping me company whilst I tapped away on the laptop.

  A Seven Year Hitch

  Copyright © 2012 Mary Beeken

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Prologue 1808

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Prologue 1808

  “We haven’t got all night man, so get on with it!”

  Gerald was not renowned for his patience and now, whilst under the influence of strong alcohol which had been consumed almost continuously since being sent down from Oxford two days before, he could exercise none at all. His right hand was clasped around the forearm of his sixteen-year old sister, Erica who was making a valiant effort to free herself from his grasp by alternately twisting her body and thumping her brother.

  “But my lord, please be reasonable. I cannot possibly marry Miss Erica to this gentleman. She is most definitely not willing and indeed, she does not even know him.” Mr. Ernest Beveridge, a man in his fifties spoke in a calming tone which he hoped would exercise some restraint on the drunken Viscount whom over the years he had Christened, tutored and guided on his journey to manhood. At this moment in time however he could be forgiven for perhaps feeling he had failed in his endeavours to do a good job.

  “Besides,” he continued “I cannot perform a marriage without either the banns being read or a special license or as you haven’t….”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” interrupted Gerald “We picked up a special license on our way down here so stop your whining and get on with it man!”

  Mr Beveridge being a gentleman of the cloth never used language unbecoming to his calling but in such unusual circumstances he could not prevent himself from uttering a curse under his breath before continuing.

  “Nevertheless my lord, a marriage between these two people where the bride is so obviously unwilling cannot take place.”

  “I’m her legal guardian and she will do as I say”

  “No I will not!” Erica stamped down hard on his foot but as this inflicted little pain because he was wearing stout riding boots and she only thin satin slippers, she swung her free arm around and caught him in his midriff.

  “Oomph,” Gerald doubled over but retained his firm grasp on her arm.

  “Now Erica,” Gerald slurred. “My friend here finds himself temporarily strapped for cash and so as you’re an heiress, I said he could marry you. He’ll be solvent again and you can boast to all your little friends that you married before any of them have even left the schoolroom and I won’t have to arrange your come-out and all that nonsense in a couple of years. See? Everyone happy.”

  “I haven’t left the schoolroom yet you idiot! I will not marry him and I suggest you seriously reconsider him as a friend if this is how he makes you behave, you drunken lout!”

  “There is nothing more to be said,” the Reverend Beveridge announced bracingly. “Now why don’t you go home gentlemen and I’m sure after a good sleep, you will realize what a ludicrous idea it was and consider yourselves fortunate that the marriage did not take place.”

  Turning to Erica he added in a lowered voice, “Perhaps you should stay with us tonight. I’ll ask Patience to have a room prepared.”

  But Gerald was belligerent in his drunkenness and would not be put off.

  “Enough of your moaning Beveridge. My sister will marry Ross tonight: Now. Do you hear? So get on with it,” he growled.

  “Over my dead body!” Ernest Beveridge lost his temper and retorted at a volume that constituted for him, a shout but which for lesser mortals, would have been only just above normal.

  “That can easily be arranged,” drawled a deep voice and the tip of a sharp knife came to rest against the vicar’s neck.

  The reaction was instant. Everyone froze and for a few seconds resembled a tableau from a bad drama before brother and sister spoke at once, shattering the silence within moments of its birth.

  “Put that knife down! How dare you threaten the Reverend?”

  “Oh I say, well done Ross. I daresay he’ll now see that we mean business and we can get this service over and done with. All this arguing makes a man thirsty.”

  Erica turned to her prospective husband who continued to hold the knife poised at Ernest Beveridge’s now trembling throat. Although she registered that he was over six feet tall with dark, unkempt hair, she was blind to every other detail as she could not see beyond the drunken man who threatened the vicar and her future. She was too young and inexperienced of inebriated young men to ascertain whether he would carry out his threat or indeed whether he was bluffing.

  Their eyes met and held; hers angry, his challenging but with she suspected, a hint of amusement. Erica sighed and turned back to the vicar.

  “It is not worth your life Mr. Beveridge; perform the ceremony if you will”

  “My dear girl, you cannot go through with this,” he replied

  “You heard her Beveridge,” snapped Gerald “she agrees so carry on; say the damned words. Here straighten that cravat Ross; you can’t get married looking like a scarecrow!”

  Whilst the young men were distracted Erica spoke in a whisper, only audible to Reverend Beveridge.

  “Don’t worry Mr. Beveridge. If you go ahead and marry us tonight, I’ll see Uncle Richard first thing tomorrow about having it annulled. I have every confidence that not only will he get it annulled quickly but will tear such a strip off Gerald he will never behave in such a harebrained manner ever again. He’ll be begging my forgiveness for the next ten years at least!”

  The vicar nodded glumly, seeing no alternative to their predicament. At that moment Mrs. Patience Beveridge who, up until now had been a horrified observer, hurried forward and offered some much needed advice. “When you get home, make sure you go straight to your room and lock yourself in with your maid. We don’t want there to be any chance of him claiming the marriage has been consummated.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Erica

  “Never mind now, dear. Just do as I say and I’ll explain it all to you later.”

  So without further ado Miss Erica Wilmshurst, spinster took as her lawful married husband albeit only temporarily, Ross Devereaux; a chance met new crony of her brother.

  Chapter One

  7 years later

  “Seven years! A real farce would you not agree uncle? Next month will mark the seventh year of my marriage and in all that time I have not laid eyes on my husband. Some of my acquaintances would no doubt envy me for such a predicament for they would dearly love to have their spouses disappear; leaving them free to follow their own inclinations.”

  Erica who had been studying the scenes in the street below, turned back into the room and crossed to perch on the chair in front of the large, cherry wood desk behind which sat a distinguished man in his early fifties.

  “While others, my dear,” he smiled in response, “Would consider it rather careless of you to have found and los
t a bridegroom all within the same day!”

  “It is as well then that in a few short weeks he shall quietly and unceremoniously be declared dead and I will not even have the inconvenience of arranging a funeral or donning mourning clothes. I shall be the perfect epitome of a ‘merry widow’!”

  Her hasty and unconventional marriage was a closely guarded secret and after subsequent years of tactful enquiries into the whereabouts of her errant groom and attempts to find a loophole in the law that would allow for its annulment, her solicitor had stated that there was only one way to proceed; wait the compulsory seven years before having him declared dead.

  “I will be relieved to have all this settled my dear. You have paid a high price for your brother’s youthful follies and I will be pleased to see you get on now with your life.”

  “By which you mean marry some respectable man I suppose!” laughed Erica. “I am sorry to disappoint you uncle, but I have truly had my fill of the wedded state and having attained my freedom, will have no wish to enter it again for some time; if ever!”

  “You will change your mind I’m sure. You have plenty of young men sniffing around you and if none take your fancy, there is always the Season.”

  “Have my various aunts put you up to this? They are tenacious indeed in their efforts to see me married! Please do not join their ranks of matchmaker now that I am about to become single again. I am sure I could not bear it!” she chuckled before adding; “Besides my life has not been on hold. I have been incredibly busy learning to manage the estate in Gerald’s absence.”

  Although the solicitor Sir Richard Stanier was no blood relation to Erica, he had undertaken both her and Gerald’s guardianship when they had been five and eight respectively; upon the demise of their parents in a boating accident. This task he had shared with her Great Uncle James until her brother had assumed responsibility on his twenty-first birthday. The fact that Gerald had promptly married her off as it later transpired, to a fellow he had only met the day before, was a source of heartache to the solicitor who was weighed down with the guilt of not having persuaded her parents against this change in guardianship when they had written their will. But of-course no one could have foreseen the sudden storm that had crashed the yacht mercilessly against the rocks, leaving the two infants without either parent. The drawing up of the will was seen as wholly sensible but no one truly believed its terms would have to be implemented and adhered to. The Viscount and his Viscountess were strong and healthy and with the arrogance of youth, thought that they would live until well past their dotage. Sir Richard sighed deeply as he recalled those bleak days and months following the accident. The children had been inconsolable; crying for their Mama and Papa, whilst he had acutely mourned the death of his dear friends.

  Erica always called him Uncle Richard and loved him as dearly as though he were a true relative. He in turn doted on her and, having been blessed with just one son Michael, tended to look on her as a daughter.

  He also cared deeply for Gerald, whom he treated as a son and who despite his rather wild years at Oxford, had turned into a responsible and well-respected gentleman.

  Erica, noting his distraction stood and paced several times around the large and tastefully furnished office before glancing once more out the window. Only when she heard his sigh and knew that his reveries were over, did she turn and moving to the leather chair across the desk from Sir Richard, flopped down in a way that would have provoked a reproof were any of her aunts present. She sighed deeply herself before chewing on her lower lip, a sure sign that she was perplexed and still pondering on her absent husband.

  “I still find it so very strange that he disappeared so quickly and without trace. I wonder why he never claimed my inheritance as he was so desperate for money at the time or indeed, why he has never tried to contact me. Surely it is as inconvenient to him to have an unknown wife as it is for me to have an absent stranger for a husband? ”

  “Indeed one would think so,” replied Sir Richard even though he knew her questions were merely rhetorical and had been asked countless times over the last seven years.

  “It must be as we have surmised on numerous occasions. He must surely be dead; killed probably soon after the wedding and buried in an unmarked grave, although it is odd that no one at the time remarked on it when enquiries were made. You would think a body would evoke some sort of furore; have caused enough of a stir that people would recall it and be keen to talk about it, wouldn’t you? Goodness knows your investigations were extensive. It is such a mystery that no doubt we will never really get to solve it.”

  “A puzzle indeed. And one that has had me perplexed for far too long and so I will not deny that I am glad that it is drawing to a close. In five weeks we can consign it to the past where it belongs.”

  Suddenly a twinkle replaced the puzzlement in her beautiful green eyes and Erica chuckled. “I say Uncle, what bad luck it would be if he turned up now just as we are on the point of ridding ourselves of him?”

  Sir Richard shuddered, “Do not tempt fate my dear! Let us declare him dead and be done. His appearance now would definitely cause no end of trouble and in all likelihood he would be unwilling to agree to an annulment.”

  No probably not,” she agreed, “So we would have to think up some excruciating forms of torture just in case he refuses to sign voluntarily. I know there’s a book in the library at home all about medieval instruments of torture because Gerald and Michael were always pouring over it when they were boys. Perhaps I should seek it out and read it just in the unlikely event of him appearing.”

  So saying she jumped up, kissed Sir Richard goodbye and strode quickly out of the office tying her bonnet as she went.

  Outside the sun was shining with barely a cloud in the sky and a gentle, warm breeze whispered through leaves and around the few people strolling along the village High Street. It was most definitely a day when troubles seemed to fade and optimism abounded.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Hardy. It is good to see you out and about again. Have you recovered from your bout of illness?” Erica stopped to greet a neighbour whose carriage had just pulled up outside Sir Richard’s offices.

  “Oh hello dear,” answered Mrs. Hardy “Yes, thank-you I am much better. Dr. Perry says I must take things gently for a little while but I simply felt I must get some fresh air and enjoy this beautiful weather. Is it true, what I hear,” she continued. “Is your brother returning to Monksleigh?”

  “Yes, he has sold his commission in the army and we expect him back in the next few days,” Erica confirmed.

  “Oh how exciting for you. Let me think now; it must be all of six years since he was home.”

  “Seven, Ma’am, to be precise. Of-course, we have seen each other in London on the rare occasions he has been in England, but it will be lovely having him home, safe and well.”

  “I suppose he will be thinking of settling down and setting up his nursery now he has fulfilled his duty to his country?” enquired Mrs. Hardy.

  “Possibly!” replied Erica, inwardly smiling at the thought of all the local matchmaking Mamas who would be setting their sights on her unsuspecting brother. “Although initially his time will be taking up with learning about the estate management from Great Uncle James.”

  “I must bring Jane to visit you in the next few days Erica. She has just returned from a visit to her Grandmother in Bath and so I’m sure you will have plenty of gossip to catch up on. I know how you girls love to gossip.”

  “I’ll look forward to your visit then, Mrs. Hardy. Good day,” Erica smiled in farewell and set off at a brisk walk out of the village in the direction of her home.

  As she ambled along, Erica removed her bonnet and raised her face heavenwards and luxuriated in the warmth of the sun on her face. She knew that such an act would undoubtedly lead to the addition of a few more freckles across the bridge of her nose and make her unfashionably tanned skin a shade darker, but she couldn’t resist the warm rays that seemed to reach into her ver
y soul, making her feel light hearted and carefree. She allowed her mind to wander back to the events of seven years before and dredged her memory for any minute detail she may have forgotten.

  The day had begun normally enough. Great Uncle James, with whom she lived, had left for one of his frequent jaunts into London and was not expected back for several days. His sister Great Aunt Celia had accompanied him as she had wanted to consult with her London physician and so Erica had been left, as on previous occasions, in the care of Mrs. Kavanagh, the Housekeeper.

  They had been very surprised when around nine o’clock that evening, Boodle the Butler had answered a banging on the front door and Gerald staggered in, obviously the worse for drink, with a complete stranger in tow. It had been incredibly difficult to understand his ramblings of having been sent down from Oxford for the rest of the term due in his opinion to some mild misdemeanour; but impossible to work out where the stranger had fitted into it all. Eventually Mrs. Kavanagh, Boodle and Erica had concluded that he must be a friend from Oxford and therefore agreed to prepare a room for their unexpected guest.

  It was only after the young men had consumed another bottle of wine that Erica, who had been sat in the relative safety of the kitchen, came to realize the danger she was in when, having been summoned by her brother, she was promptly whisked off to the rectory.

  All that followed now seemed like a fantastic dream. What with Reverend Beveridge trying to talk sense to the inebriated youths, whilst Erica wrangled with her brother and the stranger: tall, dark and strangely silent until that quietly spoken threat.

  After the rushed exchange of vows, Erica had broken free and raced home, locking herself in her room with Ellie her maid. But she need not have worried. Sometime later when her brother and newly acquired ‘husband’ had returned, they promptly entered the library to continue their drinking and it was here that she found them the next morning; slumped in chairs, snoring loudly and dribbling like the Octogenarians often found in Bath and other spa towns. She had turned away in disgust and having informed Boodle that he was to place all the alcohol in the wine cellars and hide the key; she had ridden first to the rectory to check that Reverend and Mrs. Beveridge had survived the ordeal, and then on to her Uncle Richard’s house.