A Simple Lady
Authors: Carolynn Carey
Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #Regency, #Historical Romance
A Simple Lady
By Carolynn Carey
Copyright © 2015 by Carolynn Carey
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Dar Albert
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in encouraging piracy of copyrighted materials in violation with the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A little background about
A Simple Lady
Author’s Note:
A Simple Lady
is a stand-alone historical novel set in England during the Regency period. The original manuscript was a finalist in the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart contest for unpublished writers several years ago. After the manuscript had languished in a drawer for many years, I pulled it out and revised it. The result is the book it is today. Following is a brief summary.
When her parents, the Earl and Countess of Ravingate, inform Elizabeth that her father has made arrangements for her to marry the embittered Marquess of Kenrick, she knows she must try to explain to the marquess that she is not the person her father has portrayed her to be. In other words, she is not simpleminded. But unforeseen events not only prevent her from enlightening the marquess but also conspire to convince him that she is, indeed, a simpleton.
Following a horrendous betrayal by his late wife, the Marquess of Kenrick has vowed never to wed again. And he would not have done so had his father not reached back from the grave to force his hand. Facing a deadline not of his choosing, he agrees to marry and provide for the Earl of Ravingate’s simpleminded daughter after being assured that she will never make any demands on his time.
To Kenrick’s disgust, his new wife turns out to be anything but a simpleton, leaving him with no alternative but to assume she’s a liar and a manipulator. Furious, he installs her in a small cottage in the country and tells her he never wants to see her again. To his chagrin, his mother has other ideas.
Forced to spend time in each other’s company, Kenrick and Elizabeth discover a growing regard for each other. However, misadventures, misunderstandings, and the machinations of Kenrick’s cousin and heir presumptive threaten the tenuous trust that has been building between them. Can their fledging love survive when each is asked to believe the very worst about the other?
Titles by Carolynn Carey
Historical Novels
A Simple Lady
Compromising Situations
The Secret Christmas Ciphers
My Elusive Countess
A Christmas Spirit of Forgiveness
The Barbourville Series
Celebrations of Joy (A Novella)
A Summer Sentence
Falling for Dallas
Dealing with Denver
Dreaming of Dayton
The Forgotten Christmas Tree
At Home in Barbourville
The Bow Wow and Meow Campaign
Contemporary Titles
My Cupcake, My Love
Christmas with Tiffany
Prognosis for Happiness
Lily for a Day
For information, visit Carolynn’s website:
Follow Carolynn on Facebook:
www.facebook.com/carolynncareybooks
Sign up for Carolynn’s newsletter:
http://mad.ly/signups/118022/join
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Elizabeth Ashford sighed contentedly as she settled down in her favorite chair by the window looking out onto the small herb garden near the back corner of her father’s country estate. She’d managed to finish her chores by midafternoon and although she was tired, she looked forward to spending a quiet hour with one of her favorite authors.
Today she’d decided on a re-reading of Shakespeare’s
Richard III
and had just opened the book when a quick tapping at the door of her small study announced a visitor. She suppressed a sigh and looked up.
Mrs. Capes, the housekeeper, stood in the doorway, her arms folded in front of her as though she was girding herself to face an unpleasant task. She moistened her lips and pulled in a quick breath. “Lady Lizbeth, ’tis sorry I am to interrupt you, but…” She stopped to clear her throat. “My lady, yer mother and father are here.”
Elizabeth slammed her book shut. “My parents? Here? Are you certain?”
The housekeeper’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, my lady. They arrived not ten minutes ago. Pulled up at the front door in their traveling coach, they did. When Mr. Barton saw who it was, he took it upon himself to escort them to the front drawing room. Of course they didn’t remember him even though he’s been the butler here for twenty years, but that didn’t surprise him. What is setting poor Mr. Barton on his ear is the fact that they are demanding to see you immediately.”
Elizabeth placed her book on a side table and stood, unconsciously brushing at the wrinkles along the sides of her third-best muslin gown. “What on earth could they want with me?” she asked.
“Mr. Barton reports that his lordship is looking rather cheerful, my lady, so perhaps they won’t be as unpleasant to you as they usually are.”
Elizabeth started gnawing on the fingernails of her left hand, a habit of long standing when her parents were present. Then, suddenly aware that she was reverting to old habits, she curled her fingers into her hand. “I suppose I’ll start stuttering again, too,” she muttered grimly. She’d been twelve years old when she’d begun stuttering every time she’d had to face her parents’ disappointment in her. Now, at the ripe old age of twenty-four, she had given up hope of conquering that unfortunate habit.
The housekeeper tried to smile but it faded quickly. “Perhaps this time, your stutter won’t come back,” she said, opening her eyes wide in an obvious attempt to appear hopeful.
“I don’t know why this time would be different,” Elizabeth said. “Oh well, my stutter merely reinforces their belief that my wits have gone a-begging, which may not be a bad thing. Is my hair presentable?”
“It’s fine, Lady Lizbeth. In fact, that short style with the pretty curls around your face is most becoming. It was nice of the squire’s wife to share the skills of her lady’s maid with you.”
“True.” Elizabeth patted the curls on either side of her head, then decided she’d best not delay any longer. She sighed. “I suppose I’d best go see what Mother and Father want. It’s been close on to a year since they were here last, as I recall.”
“Yes, milady. It was about this time last May when they stopped off on their way to visit that estate where they thought someone had discovered something of interest to them. I never half understood what they were talking about.” Mrs. Capes wrinkled her nose.
Elizabeth suppressed a sigh. The servants didn’t like her parents, and she certainly couldn’t blame them. While the Earl and Countess of Ravingate could boast two of the most brilliant minds in all of England, they possessed not one iota of either common sense or congeniality between them. And while the servants at Ravingate Hall had reason to resent their treatment at the hands of their employers, for the most part their dislike of the earl and countess was a result of the way they treated their only child.
Although the earl and his countess had been ten years conceiving Elizabeth, neither had grieved. The earl had been too involved in researching the Chansons de Geste to give much thought to siring an heir for his estates, while his countess had preferred translating mediaeval Celtic stories to planning a family. In addition, both tended to believe it was their duty as intellectuals to investigate any and all scientific discoveries, so they often traveled to distant sites when word came down that something new had been detected.
Thus, when Elizabeth was born, neither parent was particularly pleased, but they had agreed to curtail their travels and devote their energies to raising their daughter, a pursuit for which they were totally unsuited.
The countess, apparently believing that their efforts might benefit future generations of less intellectually gifted parents, had kept a diary enumerating their efforts and what she considered to be their colossal failures where their daughter was concerned.
She recorded that in less than a year after giving birth to Elizabeth, she and her husband had begun to fear that their daughter’s intellectual advancements were not what they should have been. Elizabeth was eleven months old before she formed a complete sentence, and six more months passed before she learned to count.
Still, according to the countess’s diary—which Elizabeth found and read when she was eight—her parents had retained some optimism about their child’s intellect until their deepest fears were reinforced by Miss Fedman, the governess they hired when Elizabeth was three.
The child simply could not learn, that lady had complained, suggesting that her wages be increased since she was having to deal with such a slowtop. Dismayed, the earl and countess had put Elizabeth to the test themselves. Both were dismayed at the results. At thirty-seven months of age, Elizabeth could read only simple books. Her father distinctly recalled that he had been conjugating Latin verbs at that age, and the countess was sure she had been reading Homer no later than the age of four. The dismayed couple increased the governess’s salary, begged her to do what she could for their unfortunate child, and disappeared back into their world of travel and research.
A year later they returned to find that Elizabeth had progressed only to simple mathematics and was doing poorly in French. In addition, she was growing quite chubby. Miss Fedman complained not only of Elizabeth’s sloth but of her tendency to slip away to the kitchen to visit with Cook and the other lower servants when she should have been applying herself to her lessons. Miss Fedman’s salary was increased yet again, and again the unhappy parents dashed away to immerse themselves in their studies.
Annual visits to check on Elizabeth became a penance for her parents. They knew each time what they would find—a child who grew more plumb, more sullen, and less intellectually promising each year. Although neither admitted it, each was relieved when they were forced to skip their annual visits during Elizabeth’s eighth and ninth years so they could continue their research on the flora and fauna of the South American countries.
When Elizabeth was ten, Miss Fedman ran off with a groom and the earl decided not to replace her. After all, he reasoned, the governess had not been able to teach Elizabeth very much, and the generous salary he had paid her could be better spent on a trip to Greece. The earl did, however, contract with the local vicar to see to Elizabeth’s spiritual needs, never dreaming that the vicar would derive great satisfaction from tutoring a young mind he found to be unusually bright and inquisitive.