Page 4 of The Scarred Duchess
Thick, unruly hair topped a lithe figure. It was natural for her appearance to change through the differing seasons: she was dark-haired and fair-skinned throughout the winter, but the glorious summer sun kissed her hair a golden blonde and bronzed her elegant neck and arms.
One morning, while breaking his fast, he eavesdropped on a diverting exchange between his daughter and the housekeeper.
“Miss Gardiner! Again?”
“Forgive me, but the day was glorious. I find it hard to stay indoors when the Lord has granted such outdoor perfection.”
“Must these ‘outdoor perfections’ always cling to your hems?”
Franny giggled. He did not doubt that the housekeeper’s weathered face wore a smile. What could have only been a kiss to a leathery cheek whisked away all further admonishments.
Vivacity, wit, and beauty, Gardiner thought with no little satisfaction.She will make some man—a gentleman—an excellent bride.
CHAPTER THREE
April 1786, Meryton
Andrew Gardiner’s home and office were strategically situated on the busiest corner of Meryton’s high street. He was the small market town’s prominent solicitor, having spent decades representing all the twenty-four families owning or managing estates throughout Hertfordshire. In all the years his firm had conducted business, his work product had yet to receive censure from the Courts of Chancery.
Alas, it was his record of accuracy that inadvertently brought undesirable attention from town, most particularly from Scoons, Snell, & Scoons, the country’s most prestigious law firm. Letters, followed by visits from its senior managers, made their way to Meryton to convince Gardiner that his fortunes were to be had in town. He always refused their entreaties; he rather enjoyed being the big fish in the small pond. But his refusals were always met with scepticism.
Finally, the firm’s principal barrister, Sir Percival Snell, came to Meryton. He entered Gardiner’s office andannounced, “I was informed you possess a superior legal mind, yet you remain here, rather than with a vaunted firm such as ours.”
“Sir, let me summarise the past events leading to this point before your arrival.” Gardiner paused. “Yours have sent emissary after emissary to convince me my better well-being is to join your firm and move to town. To each of them, I showed courtesy for their time and effort.”
“Our interest alone should warrant your attention. I see you cannot understand the significance of our condescension.” He waved his finger in Gardiner’s face.
Gardiner remained calm; such theatrics only amused him. “Your tactics may be successful in town, but here they are not. Let us agree to disagree and part as acquaintances.” He gestured towards the door.
Sir Percival turned and left without a proper farewell, storming past Gardiner’s son, Edward. The boy’s red face showed his anger at witnessing the town puffer insulting his father. Gardiner chuckled to himself; he knew Edward’s reception at school had been pleasant, except for those few privileged sons who consistently cited his roots over his character. Today’s contretemps only reinforced the myth that ‘breeding trumped wealth’. Edward was only sixteen, but if any man would disprove that fallacy, it would be his son.
In his carriage, Sir Percival continued ranting aloud the insults the ungrateful fool had rudely interrupted. He vowed to put the insignificant plebeian in his place. An irregular smile briefly lifted his lips.I believe my sister would favour a visit.
Two days later, he hurried through Boodle’s towards a clearly annoyed Lord Eldon. The Chancery Court Chancellor was well-known for his insistence on punctuality. His perpetual frown, permanently etched upon his aged face, deepened as he peered at his pocket watch.
“You have kept me waiting,” he growled. “I do not tolerate tardiness. It is unbecoming. Stop standing there like a parsnip and sit.”
A servant placed a tumbler of whiskey on the side table as Sir Percival did as bid.
“I am here, having heeded Lady Eldon’s request,” said the earl, lifting an eyebrow. “Hiding behind your sister’s skirts again?”
Sir Percival, ignoring the insult, took a sip of his drink, diligently working not to show his distaste for the whiskey. “I tendered an offer to a solicitor to raise his status and improve his standing above the sphere he was born into.”
“Well?”
“He refused my offer.”
Lord Eldon put down his drink. “Refused? What do you mean, ‘he refused’?”
“Mr Gardiner refused an association with Scoons, Snell, & Scoons and in such a way as to insult me in every manner possible.”
“Extraordinary! These country mushrooms require governance. They know not what they need to improve their standing.”
Sir Percival leant forwards. “I see we agree. Thus, I petitioned my sister to ask for your assistance.”
Lord Eldon was renowned for providing support and interference as needed and did not hesitate to use his office to the fullest extent. “I shall have the court watch for this—whatwas his name? Oh, yes, Gardiner. What county does he file from?”
“He hails from Meryton, in Hertfordshire.”
