Just a Marriage of Convenience with the Duke by Hazel Linwood
Chapter 15
The following morning dawned suitably gray, the sky overhead as dismal as Bridget felt. The evening before had been a nightmare of the worst sort, and the sting of humiliation felt like a visible scar that she had to wear. Everywhere she’d turned, there’d been whispers and stares.
Somehow, that was not even the worst of it.
Upon mercifully returning home, Bridget’s father had been beside himself in a rage, not so much at Bridget for leaving while he was out but at Lord Haskins.
“Do you not realize what he’s done by demanding your presence at the ball?” Lord Repington had cried, clutching his chest as though he could physically still his racing heart.
“I’m painfully aware, thank you,” Bridget had replied. “It’s not enough that you sold me to him without so much as asking my feelings on the subject, but now you’re chastising me for doing as he said?”
“No, dear girl,” her father had answered, shaking his head slowly. “I am not angry with you. But do you not realize… you are irrevocably bound to him? There is no hope of resolving this matter now.”
“There never was,” Bridget had countered, confused and exhausted.
“I went out to attempt to undo this, to seek some way of repairing this damage,” the earl explained, his grief causing him to fall to his chair. “But when he came here—no doubt after ensuring I was away and leaving you no choice—your fate was sealed. Bridget, you left here with Lord Haskins and without a chaperone. There is nothing to be done now but to marry him!”
Bridget still felt the same wave of sickness that had clutched her middle at her father’s words the night before. Her old father had tried his best to reverse this awful turn of events, but Lord Haskins had remained one step ahead. That was why he’d been so insistent that she attend the ball, and in her foolish anger at him, she’d forgotten entirely about her reputation.
“I have no one to blame but myself then,” she muttered as she rolled to her side to look out the window, letting the bleak sky dampen her spirits even more.
“Sister? Are you awake?” Harriet whispered, having opened the bedroom door but a crack.
“Come in, Harriet,” Bridget answered dully without turning to look at her.
Bridget felt the bed dip down and the cover rustle as Harriet came and sat on the foot of the bed. She was quiet, though, and Bridget wondered that she might not speak at all.
“I’ve come to see how you are,” Harriet finally said, her sympathy stabbing Bridget as forcefully as any knife.
“I’ll be fine,” Bridget assured her, though even as she spoke the words, she knew them to be a lie.
“I… I thought I might tell you myself before you learned of it downstairs,” Harriet began, but Bridget’s interest was not piqued in the least. Nothing could bring her any lower now. Her sister continued, “I just thought you might prepare yourself that you’ve been mentioned in the scandal sheets.”
“Nothing too terrible, I pray,” Bridget answered. “For your sake and Father’s, that is.”
“No, not terrible. Not exactly. But it was quite clear that the author who penned the words has no love lost for Lord Haskins. There is even a hint that something untoward must have happened to make you forfeit the Duke of Lockhart in exchange for marriage to that earl.”
“Untoward how?” Bridget demanded, turning and sitting up suddenly.
“Oh no, nothing like that,” Harriet corrected quickly before blushing pink. “Only the intimation that Lord Haskins has made some sort of unsavory deal in order to steal you away from the duke. But Bridget, the author also implied that the duke might call out Haskins for a duel!”
Bridget swayed slightly before recovering herself. She could not let that happen, no matter what Father had said about preserving this secret!
“I cannot allow that to happen,” Bridget said, rubbing her temples to ease the constant, dull ache that settled there. “I will find a way to get word to the duke and inform him that this is my choice. He must not blame Lord Haskins—”
“Even though that villain is entirely at fault?” Harriet cried out.
“—in order to preserve his life and his liberty. If he believes that I have chosen Lord Haskins over him, then he will bear him no more ill-will,” Bridget concluded.
“But sister, how will you live with yourself if you permit His Grace to suffer a broken heart when you’ve done nothing wrong?” Harriet asked, wrapping her arm around Bridget’s shoulder protectively.
“It’s what I must do,” Bridget replied, the heavy weight of defeat settling on her once again. “I cannot permit Patrick to suffer for our faults. But I cannot sit here and think on this all day long. I must dress and go to the school, for who knows how long I will be able to say those words?”
“I’ll go with you, Bridget. I cannot stand for you to be in such sad spirits, but I cannot abide you being in agony alone,” Harriet said, rising to her feet and offering Bridget her hand. “I’ll tell Miss Glenn to send up your breakfast, then we’ll dress and be on our way.”
Within the hour, the sisters set out for the school. This time, Harriet made no complaint about taking the old wagon in order to carry the last few items they owned, to donate.
“I do not mean to sound cold-hearted, but should we be parting with our things if Father’s circumstances are so bleak?” Harriet asked, at least attempting to sound kind.
“Though the threat to our comfort is very real, our students have need of these things even more,” Bridget reminded her. “We know there will be friends we can call upon for help should we need it, but they have no such luxury.”
And there will be vile, despicable husbands to meet our needs as well, Bridget thought bitterly, though she did not wish to upset her sister by saying so.
They reached the school and pulled the wagon alongside the building, avoiding the mud as well as they could. Harriet climbed down first and accepted the armloads of items that Bridget handed down to her, waiting for her older sister to come along and help her carry everything. When the last item had been folded and placed on its proper shelf, they stood back and looked tearfully at the stark room.
“I had such hopes for this school,” Bridget confessed sadly. “Patrick had every good intention of being its patron, of finally filling these shelves so that anyone in need could come here and be served. Now, all is lost.”
“You don’t know that,” Harriet said gently, putting her hand on Bridget’s arm. “You know, there must be some good in Lord Haskins for him to choose someone such as you for a wife, someone who is so giving and so patient.”
Bridget smiled adoringly at Harriet. “Thank you for thinking such lofty things about me, but I must admit that I am feeling far from charitable at the moment. It is all I can do to hold back the rage that threatens to pour forth, replacing my sadness with fury.
“As for retaining hope that Lord Haskins proves to be anything other than a scoundrel, I cannot agree with you. No one with the capacity to care about others would have sought to destroy my life this way,” she added with finality.
Just then, the door to the storeroom flew open and Christina entered, wide-eyed with fright. Bridget managed to grasp her by the arm just as the poor teacher seemed on the verge of fainting.
“Harriet, hurry and get her some water and a cloth!” Bridget ordered, gently laying Christina down as Harriet raced from the room. “Christina, what is the matter?”
“The boys—they’ve been… they’ve been taken to a workhouse for their parents’ troubles,” Christina said with a whimper.
“What? Who could do something so vile?” Bridget asked, aware that far too many young people had been pressed into labor in order to remove their parents’ burdens. “Wait, but what of the girls?”
“I sent them to hide, they’re… they’ve gone to the roof,” Christina said, gasping for breath.
Harriet returned with the water and Bridget helped Christina to drink while her sister held a damp cloth to the teacher’s forehead. Christina’s eyes fluttered closed as she fought to take more strong, deep breaths.
“I must find the children,” Christina exclaimed, sitting up suddenly. “Where are the children?”
Harriet spoke up. “They’re fine, never fear. I saw them myself when I was fetching the water. The housekeeper is tending to them right now.”
Christina visibly relaxed, then shifted her gaze to Bridget. “What is happening? Two burly men came in and all but dragged the boys from their classroom. Their indignant shouts are still ringing in my ears from when they were carted out by their collars.”
Bridget looked shamefaced as she shook her head, her brown curls brushing her face and covering her displeasure.
“It’s my doing, I fear. There appears to be no limit to the depths of Lord Haskins’ depravity,” she spat out.
“Lord Haskins? What does he have to do with our school?” Christina asked, looking from Bridget to Harriet.
“It is a story for another time. For now, we must learn of the boys’ whereabouts before their parents begin to fret,” Bridget stated. “Are you all right to stand now?”
“I think so,” Christina said in a shaky voice as she permitted them to help her to her feet. She swayed only slightly, but still she clung to Bridget’s arm for support.
“Wait, what is that smell?” Harriet asked, looking around the wooden walls in alarm. “Do you smell smoke?”
Christina and Bridget paused in silence as though holding their tongues would aid them in discerning it. Too soon, both of them looked frightened.
“It is!” Bridget cried, rushing to the small square of a window to see out. “What is all this?”
Harriet and Christina joined her at the window, stifling their cries of horror. Two men stood flanking Lord Haskins, lit torches in their hands.
“He means to burn the school,” Christina said weakly. “We must hurry! Both of you get out of here while I go and find the girls!”
“No, I won’t abandon you to such a task,” Bridget insisted. “Show us the way to the roof.”
The teacher did her best to hurry through the long hallway that led to the sparse classrooms, but smoke was already filling the space. She coughed after inhaling a deep, acrid gasp of thick smoke.
“Hurry, down here!” Bridget instructed, pushing both Harriet and Christina until they were crawling along the floor. She coughed forcefully before asking, “Where are the stairs?”
“At the far end of the building, where the smoke is heaviest,” Christina cried out, pointing into the thick gray cloud before them.
Bridget crawled only a few more paces before turning to look behind her. “Both of you, go outside at once! I will continue on and look for the girls.”
“Absolutely not!” Harriet said, coughing as the air in her lungs was assaulted by the burning around them.
“This is as much my doing as Lord Haskins!” Bridget replied insistently. “If any of us is to perish, let it be me so that I might escape his horrible grasp!”
“I won’t leave you!” Harriet cried out, but her words were cut short by a timber falling overhead as flames encroached on them.
At a sudden shout from above, Bridget looked up to see several of the girls’ tear-stained faces looking down at them through a hole in the ceiling.
“Thank heavens!” Bridget cried. “Stand up at once and help me bring them down!”
Christina and Harriet scrambled to their feet and began gesturing to the girls to come down. Though several of the girls were too fearful to propel themselves into the ladies’ waiting arms, the well-intentioned shoves from their classmates gave them all the incentive they required.
“Hurry, go out through the door in the pantry,” Bridget instructed them as the last girl made it down, “but do not go to the front of the school. There are unspeakably evil men there! Hurry home, and do not come back here until we send for you!”
The girls raced to obey, clinging to one another’s hands as they stumbled through the smoky hallway and towards the door. By now, flames leapt from the highest point of the school, drawing a crowd to witness the horror.
“What will we do?” Harriet cried. “Lord Haskins waits for you outside, he will surely attempt some nefarious doings.”
“Oh, I doubt that he will,” Bridget said with a vicious gleam in her eye. “But only follow my lead as we emerge and make it seem authentic. Here, place my arms around your shoulders.”
Harriet and Christina each took one of Bridget’s arms and they worked their way out through the front door. At the sight of the small crowd, Bridget fell into a faint at once, causing Christina and Harriet to hold her up as they tried to move from the building.
Several of the tradesmen in the crowd hurried forward, taking Bridget’s seemingly lifeless body in their arms, and pulling her away to safety. Women who’d stopped their work to see what was transpiring came to Christina’s and Harriet’s aid.
Bridget chanced to open one eye a slit and looked at Lord Haskins. The shocked expression he wore gave her a grim sense of satisfaction.
“Lady Bridget!” he shouted, rushing forward. “Unhand her at once, that is my betrothed!”
The men reluctantly passed Bridget off to the earl’s waiting arms. For her part, Bridget fell against his shoulder as though relieved to be free of the inferno and resting in the safety of her true love’s arms.
Only seconds later, she leaned back slightly and lifted her head to look up at him. Bridget met his gaze long enough to whisper, “I know what you did, and I will see you punished for it.”
