Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

She seemed a little breathless and, concerned, he put his hand to her forehead. “You’re hot, Miss Montrose. Here, drink some of this.”

When she’d taken a little of the soothing medicine Mrs Dorley had prepared for her, he tore open the seal, surprised to see that the date was seven years prior.

He started to read.

Dear Eliza, (her aunt had written)

I enclose a letter from Mr Perceval, but your dear mama has requested you are to have no contact with the gentleman. I am sure you would not wish to, either, knowing he was responsible for the murder— yes, murder! — of your brother, and indirectly, for the death of your father. However, I cannot bring myself to burn correspondence intended for another. I shall therefore withhold it until you are old enough, or wise enough, to hear from the man who has ruined you.”

Yours,

Aunt Annabelle Montrose.

Mr Patmore was conscious as she surely must be by the injustice of withholding anything that had been addressed to her, but he made no comment.

“Please read Orlando’s letter, if you would, Mr Patmore.”

Rufus clutched the envelope in his hand as he hesitated. This was from the man to whom Miss Montrose had foolishly lost her heart. The father of her child. She’d paid the price, but he couldn’t help but feel deeply uncomfortable about reading something that would only highlight the fact that Miss Montrose had been morally derelict in allowing herself such weakness with this man. “Are you certain?”

She nodded. “I cannot see to read. And it’s all so long ago, now.” She ran a weary hand across her brow.

Rufus unfolded the brittle parchment. Immediately, he could gauge the frenzied emotional state of its writer from the scrawl and ink spots.

“My most beloved Eliza, (began Mr Perceval)

Forgive me, for it was wrong of me to promise you marriage when I was in no position to do so. I know I have appeared to you as an honest suitor. Indeed, it has been a great injustice that my wife has been confined these last five years to a lunatic asylum, leaving me free to love yet forbidden to follow through in any honourable sense.

Yes, I should be condemned for leading you to believe that all was in order for a marriage before God, but I thought I had the means to give you the happiness you deserve.

Now, I have committed a crime which prevents me from returning to England, and which must surely send your feelings for me from passionate love to revolt.

I do not want to leave you—not ever—but you are young and defenceless, and I, who am so much older and should have known better, have taken advantage of your trusting innocence.

Please, Eliza, if there have been consequences from the love we’ve shared—the sins I’ve forced you to commit in order to prove the depth of your feelings for me—please contact me at this address, and I will do whatever I can to atone.

I would run away with you tomorrow if you would have me—”

“Stop!” With a cry of pure agony, Miss Montrose threw up one hand.

Her face was pale and strained. With great effort, she said, “And the other letter. Read that now— provided it is not from Orlando.”

Rufus was relieved it was not. He thought neither of them were in much of a state to endure another passion-infused missive from Mr Perceval.

“It’s another from your aunt,” he informed her, adding with surprise, “And the date is three years ago.”

“Please, read it, Mr Patmore.”

He began:

“My dear Eliza,

Mr Morley asked me if I would consent to allowing him to ask you for your hand in marriage. I have seen him pay his addresses to you at the past two Assembly Balls, and he indeed seems very taken.

When he told me how greatly he admired you for your beauty and virtue, I knew there could be no happiness in such a union. Were he to wed you only to discover the truth of your sinful past, your unhappiness would be beyond knowing.

I therefore took it upon myself to inform him that you had evinced a disinclination for his company, which is why you had not attended the last Assembly Ball.

Now he has left the district.