Chapter 22

Lady Sophia was sitting in the morning room with her daughter, Julia when the door burst open and an excited Sir Henry stumbled into the room.

'What is it, Henry?' Lady Sophia said with an impatient sigh, 'I do wish you would enter a room with a little more grace.'

'Sophia, my dear, I cannot believe it,' he said looking with excitement at his wife, and ignoring her admonishment, 'our fortunes, may indeed, be about to change.'

'Has Fennimore agreed to the settlements?' Lady Sophia asked her husband, her eyebrows raised. 'I would have thought that it would have taken longer than a week to reach an agreement with him.'

'Forget Fennimore!' Sir Henry said emphatically, 'that old miser will not do at all.'

'But, you told me,' Lady Sophia said, looking at her husband suspiciously, 'that Julia had to marry him.'

'Julia will have another suitor now,' Sir Henry said triumphantly, 'someone richer and with far more consequence than old Fennimore.'

Lady Sophia, who was now running out of patience with her husband, said, 'I do so wish that you would not talk to me in riddles. It does vex me so. Who do we know that is wealthier than Fennimore, and, more importantly, is willing to help us out of our financial predicament?'

'Captain Laws,' Sir Henry said, rubbing his hands together, 'the gentleman who has been under our own roof for the past week.'

'But, he is not wealthy. In fact, from the state of the clothes he was wearing when he had the accident, I would say that he was very much down on his luck.'

'That, Sophia, is where you are wrong,' he said gleefully, 'I have just been talking to his solicitor, Mr Morton, and it turns out that our destitute looking Captain Laws is, in fact, the very wealthy 5th Earl of Silverton.'

'Silverton?' Lady Sophia said slowly and deliberately, 'but, is not Silverton an old man, who never comes to town? I vaguely remember my father talking about him years ago. If I recall correctly, he owns most of Norfolk.'

'Old Silverton, the 4th Earl, died a couple of months ago,' Sir Henry said eagerly, 'and it turns out that our Captain, is his closest male heir.'

'Are you certain?' Lady Sophia said doubtfully, 'Captain Laws does not look like an Earl to me.'

'His father was the 4th Earl's youngest son. He was disowned by his father when he married a woman who the old man thought was unsuitable, and was never heard of again.'

'You said that his father was a younger son,' Lady Sophia said curiously, 'there must be other heirs to the estate.'

'No, my dear,' Sir Henry said with a grin, 'all of Captain Laws' uncles are now dead. He is the only eligible male heir. Laws was on his way to London to find out about his good fortune when he had the accident outside our house.'

'I still do not see how this is going to solve our problem,' Lady Sophia said, looking at her husband suspiciously. 'He has been drifting in and out of consciousness over the past week. And, when he is a little more lucid, he thinks he is in Spain. The other day, he grabbed my arm and spoke to me in Spanish.'

'But, can you not see, my dear,' Sir Henry said, his voice still full of excitement, 'it is perfect. His loss of memory could work to our advantage.'

'How?' Lady Sophia said testily. 'He thinks he's a Lieutenant in some foot regiment, fighting in the foothills of Spain.'

'By marrying Julia, of course,' he said brightly. 'He does not remember anything about his immediate past. We could easily trick him into thinking that he was already betrothed to Julia before the accident happened.'

'But,' Lady Sophia said, not convinced by her husband's plan, 'what if he remembers everything before the marriage takes place? Anyway,' she said, looking at her husband, 'what if Captain Laws, I mean Lord Silverton, is already married.'

'That is the best thing about the whole affair,' Sir Henry said victoriously, 'he's not married. Mr Morton, the solicitor in charge of his estate, told me that he is definitely not married.'

'But, what about the miniature you found in his jacket pocket. The one of the beautiful girl with the golden hair,' Julia, his daughter, timidly asked, 'she may be his sweetheart.'

'What! That poorly painted picture of the chit we found in his jacket pocket,' Sir Henry said disdainfully, 'she's of no consequence to us, just a soldier's fancy. It is not as though he can even remember her. And, once he's happily married to you, it doesn't matter how much of his old life he remembers. It will be too late for him to change his mind.'

'Papa!' Julia's voice rang out, 'how could you be so cruel. I will not marry him if he is in love with another woman. It is not fair.' Julia was a diminutive young lady, not used to asserting herself in front of her overbearing parents. She was finding the injustice of her father's despotism, was awakening within her a responsibility towards the sick gentleman upstairs. 'I will not do it,' she then said defiantly.

'You, young lady,' Sir Henry said, with the authority of the master of the household, 'will do as you are told.'

'But,' she said, looking at her father imploringly, 'you should at least show him the miniature. Please, Papa, I know you keep it in your jacket pocket. It may help him remember his past.'

Sir Henry had no intention of showing the miniature to Damien. As far as Sir Henry was concerned, the miniature, he now kept in his jacket pocket, was his. Over the past week, since he had found it amongst Damien's possessions, he had, many times, studied the beautiful face of the young woman encased in the small enamel gilt frame. There was a familiarity in those expressive blue eyes and rosy pink lips, and he knew that he had met her before.

'I will not do it,' Julia said standing up from the chair she was sitting on and putting her hands on her hips, 'I will not take part in deceiving that poor man.'

When Sir Henry was confronted with the full force of his daughter's dissent, a dark foreboding expression crept into his eyes. 'You, young lady,' he said firmly, 'will do as you are told.'

'But, Papa,' Julia said, looking at her father in the eye, 'I will not!'

Sir Henry, now furious, strode over to his daughter, grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and shook her. 'You will do as you are told,' he said again harshly, through gritted teeth. 'If you disobey, young lady, I will have you horsewhipped.'

Lady Sophia, feeling the need to intervene said to her husband in a commanding voice, 'Henry, threatening Julia will not be necessary. I will make sure that the girl does as she is told.' Lady Sophia then turned around to her daughter, who was now crying, and said, 'come with me, my dear, and I will send for a maid. She will make you look a little more presentable.'

The young woman looked at her mother and the fighting spirit, she had exhibited only moments before, vanished into thin air. 'Yes, Mama,' Julia said meekly.

'Good,' Lady Sophia said, looking victoriously at her husband, 'I told you, Henry, there is no need to threaten her.' She then turned to Julia and said, 'I shall go and find a suitable betrothal ring for you to wear, and when his lordship regains consciousness, you can tell him that he gave it to you.'

✽✽✽

When Damien finally regained consciousness, he was lying in a strange bed, in a strange room. Sitting on a chair next to the bed, was a young woman, who he did not recognise. He tried to sit up, but he quickly gave up and laid it back on the pillows. Why did his head feel like a block of lead? And why was his mind a jumble of hazy memories that he could not decipher?

The last thing he thought he could vaguely remember, was fighting with his regiment in Spain. But, as he looked around the darkened bedchamber, with its oak panels and ornate plaster ceiling, he thought that he must be in England. The large four-poster bed, with its richly embroidered blue and gold curtains that were held back by intricate gold sashes, were not Spanish. And, the shy looking young lady, who was now holding his hand, did not look like she had ever spent time in the hot, dusty environment of the Spanish Peninsula.

'Where am I?' he said as he looked at her.

'You are at Hatton House, my lord,' the young woman said softly, as she let go of his hand and rearranged his pillow.

Damien looked at her with a puzzled expression. Why had she addressed him as "my lord"? Although his mind was still hazy, and he could not access those memories, he knew were buried deep inside his consciousness, there was one thing he definitely knew; he was not titled. The young woman avoided eye contact with Damien, and instead, looked nervously at her feet and occasionally glanced anxiously into the dark shadows at the end of the bed. 'Why are you calling me, my lord?' Damien then said, still examining her carefully, trying to access his memory. 'My name is Lieutenant Laws of the 33rd.'

Without looking at him, the young woman wrung out a cloth that had been in a porcelain bowl on the side-table next to his bed. Still avoiding any eye contact with him, she gently dabbed his forehead with the cool, damp cloth. Then, she said apprehensively, as she glanced, once more, in the direction of the dark shadows at the end of the bed, 'my lord, you have had a serious riding accident. The doctor did warn us that, due to the severity of your injuries, you may have lost some of your memory.'

As she spoke, Damien had thought that there was something a little odd about the young woman. It was not just that her voice was weak and barely audible, there was also something peculiar about her demeanour. Damien had also noticed that when she spoke to him, she kept glancing anxiously towards the dark shadows at the end of the bed. It was as though she was frightened of someone or something that was also in that darkened room. As Damien began to examine those dark recesses that held such a fascination for her, he slowly became aware of another presence lurking in the shadows.

'Good evening, my lord,' an older gentleman said, as he stepped out of the shadows and into the light that came from a flickering candle, that was perched on the table next to the bowl of water. 'It is good to see that you are finally awake and looking so well.'

Damien looked at him carefully, but could not recall whether or not he had ever seen him before. 'I'm afraid you must have the wrong person,' Damien said, as he continued to look at the smartly dressed gentleman, 'my name is Lieutenant Laws.'

'You were Lieutenant Laws, in fact, until recently, you were Captain Laws,' the gentleman said, walking slowly over to Damien so that he was standing by the side of the bed, looking down at him. 'However, since you have inherited your late grandfather's title, you are now the 5th Earl of Silverton.'

'My grandfather,' Damien said looking suspiciously at the gentleman, 'was not the Earl of Silverton. And, sir,' he said, fixing him a stare, 'I do not remember ever meeting you.'

'Where are my manners?' the gentleman said, as he sat down on a chair that was next to the bed, opposite to where the young lady had been seated, 'let me introduce myself to you again. Although, we really do not need a formal introduction, as we are soon to be family.' He leant over towards Damien and smiled, 'I am Sir Henry Cavendish, your future father-in-law.'

'My father-in-law?' Damien repeated, looking at him doubtfully.

'Yes,' Sir Henry replied, as he patted his arm, 'you are betrothed to my dear daughter, Julia.' Sir Henry turned around and looked towards his daughter, who had melted into the shadows, and beckoned, with his hand, for her to come over and stand next to him. 'Come here, my dear,' he ordered, 'and let his lordship see his betrothed.'

Damien examined the young woman, who was now standing nervously next to her father. Surely, he thought to himself, if he were betrothed to her, there would have been some spark of recognition when he saw her face. As he inspected her, he felt as though there was something not quite right. Her eyes were a light shade of brown, and her hair that was styled elaborately into a coronet around the top of her head was neither blonde or brown. Everything about her was different to the faded image he had of the woman he knew he loved. She was tall and slim, but in his mind's eye, she was just a silhouette. And when he thought he could, at last, see her face clearly, she disappeared like the morning mist on a summer's day.

Sir Henry, now aware of Damien's wariness, said, 'do not trouble yourself, my lord. The doctor, who examined you after your accident, said that you will eventually regain your memory.'

Damien needed to find out as much as he could about where he was and how he got here. 'How did I come to be at... Hatton House?' he asked Sir Henry cautiously.

'You had come to Hatton House, to ask for my dear Julia's hand in marriage. On the second day, as our guest, you went out for a ride. Unfortunately, when you were riding through the estate's grounds, your horse was startled by a deer and reared. When you were thrown, you hit the back of your head on an old tree stump. Since the accident, nearly a week ago, you have remained unconscious. And, if it had not been for your dear, dear Julia, unselfishly nursing you back to health, you would still be at death's door.' As Sir Henry spoke, he turned around to look at Julia affectionately, but she just looked away from her father, not daring to look at him.

'Yes, Papa,' she said in a whisper, as she continued to busy herself tidying up the linen on the side-table.

'We need to get you two lovebirds to London, as quickly as possible, so that you can be married by special license. I do not see any point waiting for the banns to be read,' Sir Henry said, patting Damien on the arm, 'when you are so very much in love with my Julia.

'When will the doctor see me again?' Damien asked, 'there are a few questions I would like to ask him about my recovery.'

'What! That old sawbones,' Sir Henry said disparagingly. 'When we get to London, I will get the best doctor money can buy.'

Damien may have been in a weakened state. His head was weary and very sore, but he still had the wherewithal not to trust a word that Sir Henry Cavendish had told him. All he wanted to do was to escape from wherever he was and return home, wherever that was. It also puzzled him why Sir Henry insisted on calling him my lord and wanting him to marry his daughter. But, Damien was weary and was finding it hard to concentrate. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift back into unconsciousness. What he needed more than anything else, was to rest. He could ask questions later.