Heyerwood: a Novel

Chapter 1

Swathed in deepest black mourning, Catherine stared out of the window with unseeing eyes. If she had seen it, she would have felt the drab grey day to be appropriate for the occasion. Due to the recent death of her husband, the Earl of Heyerwood, she could not go out into her own garden without draping herself in black veils, so the absence of sunshine relieved her of any desire to leave the shelter of her house. My house, she thought fiercely, MINE! Curled in a chair by the window, she brooded about the chain of events leading her to her present circumstances, events in which she herself had had little or no input. The only thing she had to do was get through the next few days with her resolve unshaken. She had already taken steps to ensure support in the event her strength faltered.

Catherine read again the letter from her solicitor. Her husband’s will was quite clear, if unusual. Since he had died childless, had no male heir to succeed him, and no entail to consider, his property was entirely his to do with as he chose. He had chosen to leave everything to her outright, to do with as she pleased. More than that, he had even taken steps to bestow his title on her, to pass on to her heirs, should she have any. A most unusual step, it had taken him a great deal of work, including obtaining a special remainder from the king, but he had succeeded. She had not looked for such consideration; indeed she would not have been surprised had she been left with the merest competence. The solicitor indicated that he would be with her, to discuss the estate in detail, within a few days. In fact, she expected him to arrive this day. His presence would make the interview she anticipated with dread much easier. There was no one whose presence she desired less than the man she had to see tomorrow: her father.

The door opened and the smiling face of Mary, her aunt and companion, peeped around the door. There you are, my dear. I am come to tell you that tea is ready. I am sure you must be dying of thirst. It is such a cold, gloomy day, and tea will be just the thing. Shall you come to the drawing room, or would you prefer that it be served here, in your boudoir? I will join you in the drawing room. I was just coming anyway; I find I’ve had enough of my own company for one day. I hope you are comfortably settled. Do you need anything? Oh my dear! exclaimed Mary. That beautiful room is so cozy, and I could not possibly want for anything. When I consider where I was, and my circumstances, just a few months ago, I dare swear I could weep for joy! Never was anything so timely as your request for my company. I only hope I can be of use to you in your time of need. Catherine smiled affectionately and replied, Aunt Mary, I am the fortunate one. I have such urgent need for your presence and support. You, of all people know my circumstances and my present need. You, my father’s sister! The smile vanished from Mary’s pleasant countenance, and, as she and Catherine entered the drawing room, she said with gravity, Indeed, yes. While one must always be respectful of the head of one’s family, there is no denying that Gerard is most…. unnatural in his lack of feeling. While I had hoped, I really did not expect him to exert himself for me, but his treatment of you! His callous disregard for …. but enough of that. I will help you in any way I can. When do you expect my brother’s arrival? Sometime tomorrow. Hopefully, he will not want to stay when he sees that his errand is fruitless, but I know he will not give up tamely.

As the ladies sat before the fire and sipped their tea, a gig pulled up before the door. A loud knock proclaimed a visitor. As Catherine and Mary looked toward the door, the butler announced, Mr. Stuart has arrived, Lady Heyerwood. Please show him in immediately, Howard, and see that his room is ready. Mr. Stuart will be with us for a few days, I hope. They continued their tea, discussing the weather idly. Mr. Stuart approached, bowed deeply, and said Lady Heyerwood, Madam St. Clair, I hope I find you well. Catherine inclined her head and said, Mr. Stuart, pray be seated and do have some tea. It is so cold today, is it not? I hope your journey was not too uncomfortable. Fortunately, there was no snow or ice on the roads, and few other travelers. I have brought copies of your late husband’s will, the estate accounts, and the investiture of your title to go over with you at your leisure. I trust, Mr. Stuart, that the original documents are safely bestowed? Indeed, my lady, everything is safely locked in a vault. Thank you, Mr. Stuart. I have no wish to start our business discussions with you so newly arrived. However, I must tell you that your presence and support will be of the greatest necessity to me tomorrow. A most painful interview will take place, and I hope I can count on your loyalty to my late husband’s wishes. How is this, my lady? I particularly desired any creditors or persons with affairs to settle to contact me directly, not to trouble your ladyship! I do not understand…

Catherine said desperately, My father is coming tomorrow, and will expect to be placed in charge of my person and property. This must and will not be! I am of age, and my late husband’s intent and desires are clear. However, my father will try to browbeat me or trick me into giving him control. I rely on my dear aunt Mary’s presence, and yours, to help me withstand his machinations for the first time in my life. Painful as it is to acknowledge, I have never been anything to my father but a commodity he could use for gain. You, of all people, you who drew up my marriage contract, know how little care and concern he has for me. I will not return to that…that state of bondage again! Appalled, Mr. Stuart responded, My dear Lady Heyerwood, you may rely on me completely. If you wish, I can send him to the right-about without your seeing him at all. After all, he received a generous settlement at your marriage. He has no valid right to expect anything further. You are of legal age, and your husband’s will establishes your complete control over your property. Your father cannot reasonably demand…. Reasonably! My father concerns himself only with his own needs and desires. Reason has no bearing. For my own self-respect, I must needs deal with this situation myself, so far as I am able. Having the support of my aunt and you, a well-respected solicitor, will be of the greatest value to me. And now, sir, I am persuaded you would like to get settled and to rest after your journey. We dine at seven o’clock. The butler, Howard, shall be at your disposal if you need anything. Mr. Stuart rose, bowed and said Thank you for your consideration, Lady Heyerwood. Until later. Quietly, he left the room.

Catherine rose herself, and walked to the window. Aunt Mary, I beg you will not leave my side tomorrow, until my father leaves this house. I do not, under any circumstance, wish to be alone with him. Indeed not, my dear. I shall not leave you unattended. Thank you! I must go to my room now, to make ready for dinner." With that, Catherine gathered her skirts and fled to her boudoir.

Chapter 2

Five years previously, the Honorable Catherine St John, daughter of Gerald, Viscount Stanton and his wife Mathilde, was five-and-twenty, and considered herself upon the shelf. Although she had been out since making her curtsey to the queen at age eighteen, and had had many offers, her father had refused them all. He made no secret of the fact that she was, in fact, for sale to the highest bidder and, so far, either the funds or the status had been inadequate to tempt him to approve a match. She did not fully understand what her father wanted; she only knew that her own feelings were not to be considered. She had, in fact, received an offer of marriage a few years earlier from a young man for whom she had felt a decided tendre. Her father had refused the offer. Violently angered by her tears and pleading, he had struck her several times and locked her in her room for a month. Since that time, she had taken care to stay out of her father’s way as much as possible. His cold grey eyes, eyes that showed no emotion but calculation, horrified her.

Small, slender yet rounded in the appropriate places, Catherine’s appearance was considered pleasing. She wore her shining brown hair in the feathery curls made popular by Lady Caroline Lamb, and delicate muslins became her slim figure admirably. After her first season, she was able to leave off white and pastel colours and wear the deep greens and yellows that set off her green eyes and creamy complexion to admiration. While not an accredited beauty, Catherine was held to be very taking. Being well born, with a decent marriage portion, she attracted a great deal of attention on the Marriage Mart. She met David Lovell, Earl of Heyerwood, at a ball at Lady Sefton’s house. He skillfully detached her from a group of young people and swept her into a dance. She did not know what to make of him. He did not actually look at her; his eyes were busily gazing around the room. His shirt points were so high and so stiffly starched, he could scarcely bend his head, which made conversation difficult as he was quite tall. The top of her head barely cleared his shoulder. When the dance ended, the earl thanked her and abandoned her where she stood. Flushed with mortification, Catherine left the floor and went at once to her mother’s side.

The next day, her father informed her that he had received an offer of marriage for her from the Earl of Heyerwood, and that he had accepted it. The contract was already being drawn. Stunned, she said, The Earl of ….? The man who abandoned me on the floor last night? I was ready to sink! Why would he make an offer for me? I don’t know him, and he certainly didn’t seem interested in me at all. Lord Stanton roared, WHY is none of your business, miss! He made the offer, I’m satisfied, and you’ll marry him if I have to drag you to the altar myself! Go to your room. Soon enough for you to appear when the engagement is announced, and there’s an end to it! Trembling in fear and in sudden rage, she stood her ground. Father, I am of age. I don’t want to marry a stranger, and a forced marriage isn’t legal! At least, let me be acquainted with him before a final decision is made. Enraged, her father grabbed her and struck her full in the mouth, splitting her lip and knocking her to the floor. As her head hit a chair leg, she heard him screaming in incoherent rage. Then she blacked out. She woke up in her bed, with a pounding headache. She rang for her maid. After several minutes, she heard someone in the hall, and a key turned in the lock. She had been locked in! Catherine was shocked. The housekeeper, accompanied by her mother, came in with a tea tray. That’s all, Martha. said the viscountess. The housekeeper left, locking the door behind her. Am I a prisoner now, Mama? asked Catherine. Her mother looked at her blankly from strangely faded eyes. Catherine, you know your father will not tolerate question. I’m afraid you have no real alternative but to marry where your father chooses. Mama, please, please help me! Help you? How can I, when I’ve never been able to help myself? replied her mother hopelessly. Marriage will at least get you out of your father’s control. Yes, but it will put me in the hands of strangers. Catherine said bitterly. Have I no rights? Forced marriages are not legal! No, Catherine, you have no rights. If you refuse, your father can legally cast you out without a penny or imprison you in your room or even send you to a hospital for the insane. You know your father, Catherine. Appalled and terrified, Catherine agreed to the engagement. To her dismay, the wedding was to be held quietly, within a few days.

The Earl of Heyerwood called at the house. Bowing over her hand, he said Your servant, ma’am. Deeply grateful you accepted. Do my best to make you happy. He dropped her hand and, after tossing a small box into her lap, took a seat without waiting for an invitation. Taken aback, she opened the box and, to her surprise and dismay, found a betrothal ring of some magnificence. Set in heavy gold, the center stone, a topaz of glowing honey color, was surrounded by diamonds. She slid it onto her finger and was surprised to find that it fit her perfectly. Thank you, sir. I neither expected nor desired such a token from you. Surely it seems a bit unnecessary? He glanced at her with indifference, and replied Family tradition. The ring is always presented to the bride-to-be. At least, topaz suits you. She sat across from him and attempted to engage him in conversation to no avail. He did not look at her again, just sat staring into the fire. She took the opportunity to study him. An extremely tall, thin man, his face was worn and his dark eyes deeply shadowed, as if exhausted. He was again dressed in an extreme fashion, with outlandishly high shirt points and a brightly-patterned waistcoat, and with what appeared to be paint on his face.

They did not meet again until their wedding, which was held in a side chapel at St. George’s. She wore a satin gown of deep ivory trimmed with pearls, enhanced by the pearl necklace and earrings given to her by her mother on the way to the church, the only touch of colour being the glowing topaz on her finger. With tears in her eyes, the viscountess said, Try to make your own happiness, Catherine. All of a sudden, the wedding was over, and she was almost running down the isle, her hand on her new husband’s arm, trying to keep pace with his long stride. They got into his carriage and drove away, not even staying for the wedding breakfast, for which Catherine could only be grateful, as she had neither the heart nor the stomach for such a public display. As they rode along, the earl either stared out the window or slept. Catherine was, for all intents and purposes, alone with her thoughts. Make your own happiness. Mathilde had said. How could one do that with no control of one’s own destiny? she thought bitterly. On the second day of the journey, still having no idea of their destination, she turned desperately to the earl. My lord, please talk to me. We are husband and wife now. I would ask some questions. Pray, my lord, do me the courtesy of answering them! David opened his eyes and looked at her with some surprise, saying with indifference, By all means, madam, ask and, if I can, I will answer.

Where are we going? asked Catherine. Why, to my country seat in Somerset, Heyerwood Manor. Pretty enough place, between Bath and Bridgewater, near the water. Nothing nearby except the village, but close enough to the main road. Emboldened by his civil response, she asked, Why did you ask for me, sir? I am passable but not an accredited beauty, and my portion is at best adequate. He leaned back in his seat and looked at her with boredom. Frankly, ma’am, you are the only respectable female I could get, and I was the only one with a title grand enough who was willing to meet your father’s price. Shocked, she could only stare at him for a moment. Why were you driven to buy the first respectable female you could? she finally whispered. Sardonically, he looked at her. In a nutshell, you are lending me countenance in exchange for my title and money. Your father gained a title for his daughter that he thinks he can boast of and a tidy fortune of his own. You need not worry that I will bother you in any way; you will be free to make Heyerwood Manor your own, and to spend as much blunt as you wish. I neither expect nor wish an heir; some families should die out, and mine is one of them. We all gain, even you. From what I’ve seen of your father, you will be better off with me, such as I am. I will visit you often enough to satisfy convention. Otherwise, I will pursue … ah, my own amusements, as usual. You may do as you wish, as long as you do not foist a brat on me. It’ll be good to have someone at hand, to see to the estate. Silenced, she withdrew her gaze and stared out the window as the continued to drive on.

After three days of travel, the carriage pulled up in front of the house, a huge stone manor obviously aged and built of many styles, as different generations had added on. Since the façade had been modernized, it presented a pleasing enough picture. The front gardens were well maintained and gay with flowers, even on a rainy day. The door was opened by the butler, who introduced himself to her, I’m Howard, my lady, at your service. I hope you will find Heyerwood Manor comfortable. Her first confused gaze fell upon what appeared to be hundreds of servants but soon sorted out to a manageable number. Her husband bowed punctiliously and kissed her hand, saying, Hope you’ll be comfortable. Ask Howard for anything you want. May want to hire a companion or some such. Send any bills to Stuart; he’ll pay ‘em. With that, he went up the stairs to his own rooms. She did not see him again for a week.

Much to her relief, the house was well maintained, and the staff well trained and obliging. Within a few days, she felt comfortable meeting with the housekeeper and supervising the running of a large household. She had also met the agent and begun exploring the estate itself. Her own rooms were beautifully furnished with a cherry bedroom suite, and included a dressing room and a boudoir with a dainty desk, bookshelves, comfortable chaise longue and a few cozy armchairs. Her possessions had arrived, her grandmother’s worktable already in place. She fell immediately in love with her rooms, with their soft ivory walls and delicately embroidered curtains and bed hangings with flowers and leaves in soft yellows, greens and peach tones. At least she had one place to call her own. Near the bay window overlooking the garden, she placed a chair next to the worktable and placed her embroidery frame where it would best catch the natural light. She then unpacked her books and bric-a-brac items, and felt herself at home. She would be able to read, write and embroider in comfort and privacy for the first time in her adult life. She admired the view while the maids unpacked her clothes in the dressing room, and then went in to place the miniatures of her mother and grandmother on her bedroom fireplace mantle.

She and David did not talk privately. They met only at dinner and in the drawing room after dinner, where their conversation was general and desultory, at best. Catherine was somewhat afraid to ask about his family and his life; David was obviously indifferent to her. At the end of the second week, David left and she did not see him again for six months. The next visit took much the same form; a week confined to his room, a second week seeing him only at dinner and he departed again, with no word of when she would see him again. For something to do, she began taking an interest in the operations of the estate and occasionally visited the village. She also engaged in desultory correspondence with a few of her friends. Although she attended church from time to time, she could never get accustomed to the curious looks she received. In the second year of their marriage, Catherine asked him if she could come to London for some part of the season, to see friends and to shop. He looked at her with surprise and said, Don’t think you should; might prove to be embarrassing for you. Most of London knows my story, and won’t hesitate to cut your acquaintance. Better not expose yourself. Try Bath or one of the other such places. I don’t go there, so you’ll be able to make your own way. You’ll need a companion though. Respectable females your age don’t go jauntering about alone, even if married. She dropped the subject and contented herself with occasional visits to the village shops and ordering what she could not obtain locally by writing to various shops in London. She was mystified by her husband’s frank statements about his reputation, puzzled as to what could be so bad that would result in her being cut upon showing her face in town. A letter from her father soon left her no illusions.

On the occasion of her twenty-seventh birthday, a gift from her mother came accompanied by letters from both parents. Her mother sent her a novel and some new embroidery silks, with a brief, warm letter extending her best wishes for Catherine’s birthday and fond hopes for Catherine’s contentment. The viscount’s letter might have been written with acid-he was enraged by the poor bargain she had made. The first time he mentioned his son-in-law at his club, he found out about the earl’s scandalous escapades; he couldn’t hold his head up in town, thanks to the uproar created by the earl. If he’d known about Heyerwood’s abominable reputation and the scandals he delighted in creating, he would never have agreed to the marriage. The letter went on and on, outlining Catherine’s disgrace and its effect on her own family in brutal detail. Sold by her father into a sham marriage with a man apparently deep in all vices, then blamed by that same father who had made it impossible to refuse. Shattered by her father’s revelations and obvious contempt for her, she stayed in her rooms for days, too humiliated to show her face. She did not hear from her parents again.

In the fourth year of their marriage, David came for one of his usual repairing leases. Thinner than ever and coughing painfully, he retired to his rooms immediately. She did not see or hear from him for several days. Finally, he sent for her. As she walked into the state chambers, into which she had never ventured previously, he said, Sit by the window in the light, where I can see you, but don’t come too close. I have things I must say to you before it’s too late. She sat quietly, and looked at him enquiringly. We have managed better than I thought. Just hope you haven’t been too lonely here. I realize this hasn’t been fair to you, cutting you off from society. Too late now, though. He coughed rackingly, and panted for breath. Wanted you too know that I appreciate the way you’ve managed the house and estate, as well as the circumstances. Going to Italy for my health, and probably won’t be coming back. Just want you to know that I am leaving you fixed up, all right and tight. I’ve got all the paperwork in train with my solicitor, Stuart. All the information is in my estate room downstairs-just contact him when the time comes. You still need to get a companion. Shouldn’t be alone. Coughing, he lay back on his pillows, panting for breath, and looked directly at her for possibly the first time in their marriage. You know, had I desired a conventional marriage, you would have been the female I would have chosen. You deserve better than a degenerate ruin and, after I’m gone, I hope you find someone with whom you’ll be happy. Just don’t let your father in the door! Closing his eyes, he waved his hand weakly toward the door. Got to rest now. I’ll see you before I leave. Curtseying, Catherine left silently.

That was her last visit from her husband. After he left, Catherine did not hear from David again. Several months later, she received the letter advising her of his death in Italy, in the seaside town of San Benedetto. There was little information about the circumstances and none about his life there, for which she was grateful. His body was shipped back for burial in the family vault. The note from the solicitor, Mr. Stuart, advising her of her husband’s will and his actions concerning the title, left her dazed. Earlier, she had remembered David’s urgings for her to obtain a companion and thought of her father’s sister, Mary. Older than her brother, Mary St Clair was a widow with a small competence who lived retired in Bath. She remembered seeing her Aunt Mary occasionally, when she came to town to shop and visit, but had not seen her in years. She did not know what had happened, but Aunt Mary had been in tears and her father enraged when Mary left, and Mary never came again. Catherine had written to her aunt, begging her to come to Heyerwood Manor, and Mary had been with her for a few months now. With the arrival of Mr. Stuart today, she had more company in the house than she had had since arriving at Heyerwood Manor five years before. Catherine felt deeply grateful for their presence as she contemplated the future.

Chapter 3

Gerard St. John, Viscount Stanton, pounded on the door. When Howard opened it, the viscount brushed by him. No need to announce me. I’m her ladyship’s father. I’ll find my way; just take a look around first. Firmly blocking the way, Howard said, I’m sorry, my lord, but I have my orders. You are expected. I will announce you to my lady. If you will wait here, please, my lord. Howard opened the door of the drawing room and announced Viscount Stanton as he was pushed aside by her irate father. What the devil do you mean, keeping me kicking my heels while your butler announces me? Catherine looked at him coolly. This is my house, sir, not yours. I prefer that visitors be announced so that I can decide whether or not I am at home. Please be good enough to allow me to present to you my solicitor, Mr. Stuart. As you may know, Aunt Mary is kind enough to companion me. Forced by the presence of witnesses to exhibit at least a surface civility, he curtly acknowledged the introduction to Mr. Stuart and his sister’s presence. From there, the atmosphere deteriorated, as her father demanded that Catherine return to the shelter of his roof and let him take over the burden of her affairs, becoming enraged when she refused. I am thirty years old, mistress of my own affairs. Why should I return to your household, to be bullied, abused and used for your advancement? The fact that my circumstances allow me a choice is only to my good, and I choose to stay here! The viscount’s icy grey eyes bulged in disbelief at her defiance, and he advanced upon her threateningly. You’ll come freely, my girl, or I’ll drag you! Without a husband, you belong to the head of your family, and I will decide where you’ll live and how from now on!

Clearing his throat delicately, Mr. Stuart said, apologetically, I regret to inform you, my lord, that, strictly speaking, you are not the head of Lady Catherine’s family. Upon her marriage, she became a member of the Lovell family and, in point of fact, she is now the head of that family, his late lordship having left her the entire estate in her own control and investing the title in her as well. You, as her father, are certainly entitled to give her advice, but you have no right or control over her or her property. While this is somewhat unusual, his lordship was most emphatic that his widow be left fully independent and emancipated from any interference or control. You will find the documents most clear on this score. Silenced, her father glared at the solicitor, then at Catherine. You’ll pay! he screeched, You at least owe me the return of your dowry! Mr. Stuart interjected, As to that, my lord, the dowry was paid to his grace, the Earl of Heyerwood, and was more than repaid in the marriage settlements. You have no claim on the estate at all. Purpling with fury, Gerald spun on his heel and stormed out of the room. You aren’t finished with this. I’ll stay until you see sense, by God!

Encountering Howard in the hall, Gerard shouted, Have my things brought in and prepare a room. I’m staying until my business is resolved! Howard looked past him icily and said, I take my orders from the Countess of Heyerwood, sir. I shall desire her to make her wishes known. Leaving Gerard standing in the hall, Howard entered the drawing room and asked, Shall a room be prepared for Viscount Stanton, my lady? In tones audible to the hall, Catherine said, No, my father will not be staying. If necessary, be good enough to have the footman assist him into his carriage. Do not admit him, should he call again. Howard returned to the hall, closing the door to the drawing room behind him. He looked enquiringly at Gerard and asked, Must I repeat my lady’s wishes, sir? I will be happy to render any assistance possible to ease your departure. Pale with rage, Gerard looked at Howard. Tell HER LADYSHIP that she is not out of this yet and, if she has any regard for her mother’s health, she’ll keep a civil tongue in her head. I’m leaving now, but she hasn’t heard the last of this! Shrugging into his overcoat and hat, Gerard flung himself into his carriage and began the long journey back to town.

Shaken, Catherine turned to her aunt and her solicitor, with eyes blinded by tears. Thank you for your support. I must…must go to my room for a little. Picking up her skirts, she fled to her room as if pursued by demons. Watching her depart, Mr. Stuart turned to Mary. I was never so shocked, Mrs. St. Clair. Is her ladyship’s father quite mad? Perplexedly, Mary replied, "I begin to think he must be, sir. Gerard has ever