The Truth by Jane Lark ~ a free book exclusive to my blog ~ part three

The Truth

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this should not be recreated in any form without prior consent from Jane Lark

Part 1, 2,

Emerald

Emerald smiled when Rita looked up from her work, although Rita’s gaze remained low, turned to Emerald’s feet. Rita was kneeling on the floor lifting their items from trunks and setting them into drawers beneath the two narrow bunks within the room. Rita had been the Indian girl her mother had selected and trained from the age of fifteen to become a personal maid. As Rita looked back down, Emerald’s gaze cast out about the cabin. There was a closed door in the side wall. Emerald’s mother saw it too, lifted her hand and turned to Mr Bishop. “Where does this lead?”

“To the captain’s day cabin, ma’am. This is the captain’s cabin. The door has been locked and will remain locked during your stay aboard.”

Emerald hadn’t realised they were displacing the crew. “There are no guest cabins?” she asked of Mr Bishop.

“None, Miss Martin, this is a merchant vessel. She’s not designed for passengers.”

“Then where is Mr Farrow sleeping?” It was a very inappropriate question and yet she could not imagine him settling for second best.

“In the Lieutenant’s cabin on the far side of the day cabin, Miss Martin.”

He had given up his cabin. “And the Captain?”

“Has taken mine, Miss.”

“And yourself and Mr Pritchard, Mr Bishop?”

“Have moved below decks, it is comfortable enough and a pleasure to accommodate you, Miss Martin, Mrs Martin.” As he bowed to them both, Emerald looked about the room again, doubting Mr Farrow thought it a pleasure to accommodate them. “Is there anything you wish for, anything I may fetch you, before I leave you to unpack?”

“The key to that door,” her mother stated. “I would feel far more comfortable if it is in my hands, Mr Bishop, would it be possible to have it? And we shall need a pallet for our maid also. She can hardly sleep below deck among the men.”

Emerald glanced at Rita. She was a year younger than Emerald, head down she continued to work, ignoring the conversation that progressed above her. Ten years ago they had played together with Emerald’s dolls. Now they’d both learnt to fit the mould life had cast them, what other choice did they have. Rita was born into service. Emerald was a gentlewoman whose path was carved into marriage, bound by the restraints of her gender and birth. Her heart cried out for more. Had she been a boy her father would have found her a place in the East India Company and she might… The thought died. What could she have done? Something. Something other than sitting at home and bearing the children of a stranger.

“I believe Mr Farrow has the key, ma’am, I will ask him to give it to you, and in the meantime send up a pallet for your maid. Would you care for refreshments?”

“Emma?” her mother’s question was to ask if Emerald had any needs. She had none. The memory of her father and India – left behind – burned inside her too strongly, the uncertainty of her future and the destiny she despised made her feel sick not hungry. She shook her head.

“No, thank you, Mr Bishop, we will wait until the evening meal.”

With that Mr Bishop disappeared, but he returned a short while later with a crewman bearing a rolled mattress. While the crewman passed it over to their maid, bowing, Mr Bishop cordially invited them to dine with Mr Farrow and the captain that evening.

Emerald’s mother accepted, and then again Mr Bishop left them to unpack – shut away, out of sight, as Mr Farrow willed.

Emerald had asked to remain on deck for longer, to watch India slip away, but Mr Bishop had advised they would be following the coastline for hours before setting into the open sea, and besides Mr Farrow had particularly instructed his preference for them to remain off the deck.

Were they supposed to spend the entire journey cramped inside their cabin? Was she to be physically imprisoned now as well as emotionally restrained? It was enough to have to deny her will for more excitement than sewing and reading, and parlour talk, but to lose all opportunity to explore even the confines of the ship. She was quite likely to go mad during this journey.

At least a wide rectangular window stretched across the far end of their cabin, looking aft, so they could see the horizon. Although the view would be endless sea and sky, at least it would not be bars. The only furniture was a single narrow table with a chair before it. An unlit lantern hung above it. It must be where the Captain wrote his nightly log. She wondered if Mr Farrow had ever sat there.

She imagined him, his cold, callous expression fixed on his face as he worked. Then she looked at the bunks. Which had he slept on? A shiver ran through her body, to think she may be sharing his bed, even if not in the biblical sense. Some of her friends would have palpitations at the thought. He was idolised in Calcutta, the bachelor who was the premier catch. Yet if Richard Farrow ever took a wife it would be for his gain and Emerald would pity her.

At least that fate would not be hers. Perhaps it would not be so bad to marry a stranger, any man would be better than a hard, arrogant tyrant like Richard Farrow. If she must endure the restraints of obeying a husband at least let it be a husband she might like.

Turning to her mother, Emerald saw the tiredness she’d seen in her mother’s eyes earlier and forgot Mr Farrow.

She touched her mother’s shoulder. “Lie down and rest, Mama, you look exhausted, Rita and I will unpack.”

Unusually she did not argue but sat on the bunk opposite.

Emerald knelt and began helping Rita fill the drawers beneath the bunks. Emerald’s mother must genuinely be exhausted to concede so easily, the fear already twisting sharp knives around in Lizzie’s heart was now also for her mother.

As if hearing her thoughts, her mother said, to Emerald’s back, “I did not sleep very well last night. I was concerned we might have forgotten something. I will feel better in a while.”

Emerald looked around. Her mother had lain down, her head resting on a soft pillow, and closed her eyes. Emerald remained silent and turned back to her work. A moment later she could hear her mother’s calm breathing. She glanced back. Her mother had gone to sleep.

When Emerald focused on her task again she smiled at Rita. Rita’s eyes looked at Emerald through the veil of her eyelashes, meeting Emerald’s gaze for the first time in years. “Are you sad to be leaving your family?” Emerald whispered.

Their conversation then progressed in whispers, reacquainting themselves after years of distance, speaking of their expectations of England and the things they’d left behind.

To be continued…

If you cannot wait until next week for more of Jane Lark’s writing there’s plenty to read right now.

To read the Marlow Intrigues series, you can start anywhere, but the actual order is listed below ~ and click like to follow my Facebook Page not to miss anything…

The Marlow Intrigues

The Lost Love of Soldier ~ The Prequel #1 ~ A Christmas Elopement began it all

The Illicit Love of a Courtesan #2

Capturing The Love of an Earl ~ A Free Novella #2.5

The Passionate Love of a Rake #3

The Desperate Love of a Lord ~ A second Free Novella #3.5

The Scandalous Love of a Duke #4

The Dangerous Love of a Rogue #5

The Jealous Love of a Scoundrel #5.5

The Secret Love of a Gentleman #6

Jane’s books can be ordered from most booksellers in paperback and, yes, there are more to come 🙂

Go to the index

For

the story of the real courtesan who inspired The Illicit Love of a Courtesan,
another free short story, about characters from book #2, A Lord’s Scandalous Love,
the prequel excerpts for book #3 The Scandalous Love of a Duke

Jane Lark is a writer of authentic, passionate and emotional Historical and New Adult Romance stories, and the author of a No.1 bestselling Historical Romance novel in America, ‘The Illicit Love of a Courtesan’.Click here to find out more about Jane’s books, and see Jane’s website www.janelark.co.uk to learn more about Jane. Or click ‘like’ on Jane’s Facebook page to see photo’s and learn historical facts from the Georgian, Regency and Victorian eras, which Jane publishes there. You can also follow Jane on twitter at @janelark

Brief stories from The Battle of Waterloo ~ General Uxbridge

Lieutenant General Henry William Paget, who became 2nd Earl of Uxbridge and Marquis of Anglesey (1768-1854)

As I said in my last brief story, when I visited the site of the Battle of Waterloo for the bicentenary, it was the personal stories of those who fought there which inspired my emotion and General Uxbridge’s story is one of those that could have come out of a novel.

General Uxbridge, as he was at the time of the battle of Waterloo, began his military career in the 7th (or the Queen’s Own) Regiment of (Light) Dragoons (Hussars). He became Colonel of the Regiment in 1801. He commanded the cavalry in Spain and Portugal during the Peninsular wars. But he was then wrapped up in a real romantic, rakish, scandal, as he seduced the wife of Henry Wellesley, a political envoy, who happened to be the future Duke of Wellington’s brother. Henry Wellesley’s suffering was described by Viscount Castlereagh in a letter to King George III on the 5th June 1809. “He was overwhelmed by domestic misfortune.”

Henry’s wife, Lady Charlotte, daughter of the 1^st Earl of Cadogan, had run off with Lord Paget (who was later the 2nd Earl of Uxbridge). Lord Paget had eight children with his first wife, who were left behind, and Lady Charlotte left four children. In 1810 Henry Wellesley and Lord Paget (Uxbridge) obtained divorces from their respective wives (note Paget’s wife was also discovered to be having an affair – you wonder then how many of the eight children were his ~The Dangerous Love of a Rogue style 😉 ). Paget then married Lady Charlotte, and was sued for £24,000 for the harm he’d done, a huge sum in that day.

Robert Ward wrote to Lord Lonsdale about the affair on the 8^th March 1809. ‘Lady Charlotte Wellesley seems to have been the utter victim of her seducer, after resisting him long and sincerely; she has even often retained Sir Arthur Wellesley near her in public for the express purpose of avoiding Lord P’s importunities. She has written to Arbuthnot, W’s friend to say she knows she has consigned herself to perdition and unhappiness for life but was irresistibly driven to it by what she could not avoid. Lord P. has written in a similar way to his father, adding he had sought death frequently in Spain, to avoid this misfortune and that the greatest benefit that could now befall him wd. be to have his brains blown out. Wellesley is like one distracted’ Lonsdale wrote again three days later. ‘I was correct I find what I stated respecting the elopement, and Ld Uxbridge, half heart-broken, has written, Pole tells me, in these words to Ly. Charlotte, “Madam, I implore you as an old and dying man, to restore to his father a son; to disconsolate a wife, her husband, and to unprotected children, their father, Uxbridge.” Ly.Charlotte resents this as a letter that would not have been written to a housemaid, and Lord P. is profligate enough to intimate to his father that he joins in the resentment. The times seem indeed to be out of joint.’

Of course for Lord Paget’s and Lady Charlotte’s first year, officially, together they were ostracised by polite society as they lived together while still being married to others. Wellington was furious and Uxbridge’s military career was over for a while. But at least when he was called to a pistol duel on Wimbledon Common by Col Henry Cadogan (Charlotte’s brother), he acted honourably. When Cadogan missed, Uxbridge refused to return fire, knowing himself to be in the wrong.

Wellington commanding the reenactment of the Battle of Waterloo June 2015

Wellington’s next encounter with Uxbridge was not until the Battle of Waterloo, when Uxbridge, now as a General was appointed to lead the cavalry. When Wellington received the news that he must fight with Uxbridge he said, “Lord Uxbridge has the reputation of running away with everybody he can, I’ll take good care he don’t run away with me.”

Uxbridge was considered one of the heroes of the battle though, even by Wellington, and following their victory was appointed the rank of Marquis (Marquess in today’s spelling).

He was injured in the battle though. When he was caught in the leg by a cannonball. He was watching the battle with the Duke of Wellington and responded. “By God, sir. I’ve lost my leg.” To which Wellington replied. “By God, sir. So you have.”

The French cannon fire from the near ridge at reenactment of The Battle of Waterloo, Belgium, June 2015

It was near the end of the battle, and Uxbridge was carried off the field and taken back to the inn which Wellington was using as his headquarters in the village of Waterloo, where his damaged leg was amputated. John Robert Hume, the surgeon, recorded Uxbridge’s operation in his notes, and pointedly mentions Uxbridge’s silence, bravery and calmness throughout the operation, when he would have had no painkillers. The only indication that he found it difficult was that he commented on the knife perhaps being too blunt. The surgeon would have first cut a flap of skin if possible to fold over the amputation site, to enable better healing.

The owner of the inn M. Hyacinthe Joseph-Marie Paris asked if he could bury the leg of one of the heroes of the battle in his garden, and he gave it its own tomb stone. People then came to visit the inn and the tomb for years to see the place where Uxbridge’s leg was buried. It became a monument which macabre tourists favoured.

This is the inscription recorded on the stone in the garden of the inn, in Waterloo village.

The leg was taken from the grave at one point and rather gruesomely displayed in the Wellington museum which is now established in the inn, but after complaints it was reburied, and now it is believed to have gone missing. However, the museum does have the artificial leg which Uxbridge used following his amputation, which was the first ever moving prosthetic leg as far as anyone is aware.

Lord Uxbridge lived on into his 80s with Charlotte and regularly when people asked him how he was, the answer that he gave was, ‘I have one foot in the grave.‘

🙂

There are still more Waterloo stories to come, follow my blog via email not to miss them.

*********It’s the lase weekend for the discount of The Lost Love of a Soldier**********

If you would like to read my fictional story set around the lead up to the Battle of Waterloo, then now is the time to do it, Harper Collins have put on some amazing deals this month to commemorate the battle. In one country the deal only lasts two weeks, though, I have not put the amounts as they are different in different countries, just click on the cover of The Lost Love of a Soldier in the side bar to find out your great cut price deal.

If you would like to see all the pictures and videos of Waterloo 200 which I will share on my Facebook page, click Like on the Jane Lark Facebook link in the right-hand column.

Look at all the book covers in the side bar to see the fictional stories I write… especially the limited time offer for Magical Weddings, which contains my story,

The Jealous Love of a Scoundrel