My Rake's Progress - Chapter 23

Is marrying a Rake one step too many? Marriage is a big step for a gentleman, especially for one who is set in their ways, but it’s also a big step for the wife too, particularly if it’s to a Rake!. Some gentlemen’s habits are difficult to change, and that's especially true for a Regency Rake in

My Rake’s Progress 

Written by Miss Louisa Ayling.

The Christmas season of 1814 brings seasonal celebrations to Kent for Horatia, and it continues into the New Year of 1815.  

Then we swing into the 1815 Season and during the fun and frivolity brings a period of mourning that affects a friend of Horatia’s friend due to the outcomes of the Battle of Waterloo.

After Waterloo, Matthias realises that the battle continues on the continent and in his life, as he discovers Horatia is out of mourning but on a path of her own making.

Let's check out the continuing intrigues within Chapter 23.

Transcript

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Is marrying a rake one step too many? Marriage is a big step for a gentleman, especially for one who is set in their ways, but it's also a big step for the wife too, particularly if it's to a rake. Some gentlemen's habits are difficult to change, and that's especially true for a Regency rake-in. My rake's progress. Written by Miss Louisa Ailing. The Christmas season of 1814 brings seasonal celebrations to Kent for Horatia, and it continues into the new year of 1815. Then we step into the 1815 season, and during the fun and frivolity brings a period of mourning that affects a friend of Horatia's due to the outcomes of the Battle of Waterloo. After Waterloo, Matthias realizes that the battle continues on the continent and in his life, as he discovers Horatio's out of mourning but finds her on a path of her own making. Let's check out the continuing intrigues within chapter 23. December 1814. The Christmas season at Sherrington's Folly. The next couple of weeks saw the ladies attending the Cranshaw Soiree, where Sir Benedict was very attentive to their needs. In fact, his attention had been noted by a number of the local family matriarchs, being one of the areas most sought-after bachelors. The Fendon's Music Hall at Fendon House, the Thornton's Ball, several local country dances at the Dover Assembly Rooms, and a Christmas house party at Langdon Park, to name a few. Clarice realized that Sir Benedict seemed to be enamored with Horatia, and she could see that Horatia enjoyed his company, they spoke for hours. She was pleased for her friend and knew that this was what her friend needed. She seemed much happier and more responsive. He was good for her. Their romance blossomed, and Sir Benedict asked for Horatia's hand in marriage on New Year's Eve, after he travelled to Stanwyek Hall to ask for her brother's permission, which was granted later that day. He needed to know about the man before he said yes. He was happy with what he discovered, he was much like most of the gentlemen of his acquaintance, yes, he had a mistress in town and had enjoyed nights out in the gentlemen's clubs when in London, but was dedicated to his land. Sir Benedict was a little disappointed about Sherrington's folly remaining in his wife's hands, but was determined that once they were married that she wielded either to him or any offspring they had. So, Horatia was now engaged, as the New Year arrived, to Sir Benedict Cranshaw of Langdon Hall. Much champagne was imbibed to celebrate the occasion at the New Year ball as the announcement was made. Horatia beamed with happiness, and Sir Benedict kissed her cheek after placing a simple ring upon her finger, much to the chagrin of the local families. May 1815. Another London season. Back at Stanwyek House in Mayfair, Horatia was enjoying being engaged again and attending every possible one of the events on the calendar. Sir Benedict escorted her to the theatre, the opera, Vauxhall Gardens, the various balls and soiree. She was congratulated and her fiance showered her with bouquets and gifts, she was enjoying being thoroughly spoiled. News had reached Matthias that Horatia was once again engaged, which enraged him, as his possessive jealousy took over, and a visit to the White House was the order of the day. He needed somewhere to exercise his frustrations out of him, and onto a willing female victim who did not care how depraved he became. He knew as he was flagellating the young woman it was really Horatia he was castigating. It should have been himself receiving the punishment, the self-torture, the pain he felt with every stroke. Luckily he knew when to stop, although he knew that it was not enough to rid himself of this feeling of rejection and pain, as he realized his own pathetic complacency where his P hen was concerned, as he released his seed once again without his lust being sated. He swiftly reprimanded himself that he knew the score, that he was not ready for marriage, he was just 9 and 20, and maybe in the next couple of years he would be ready, but knew that if he did not marry his p hen he would never find love in the marriage. It had to be her, no one else would be able to fill that position. He had to find a way, he just had to. He left the brothel with more determination than regret. June 1815. Stanwyek House. Morning cast its shroud over one of Horatia's friends. Lady Clarice had just found out that her handsome upstanding husband, the Major, had been one of the thousands killed at Waterloo in the Netherlands. Their marriage had been one of very short duration, and sadly had not borne fruit. They had been apart more than together, and Horatia was very aware of what it was like when she'd lost Justin. She had to admit that the situation did dredge up all the feelings that she had carried with her for the last three years that had only recently started to fade. The sparkle in her life had dimmed for a while, even though there was also the guilt. She eventually decided determinedly that her life needed to move on, even though she still had a little place in her heart for Justin that would never completely fade. He had made sure of that by surrounding her with the folly and his continued annuity, showing her his eternal love. I have so much to look forward to, Melissa, I can only feel such sorrow for dear Clarisse, I need to be there for her. As we all shall be, but I know that you are the one who empathizes with what she is going through from your personal experience. I know it's not easy and brings forth old demons. I start to wonder whether I'm doing the right thing by marrying Benedict. He's very attentive and showers you with gifts. That's what worries me. Why does he feel that he has to give me so much? His company is what I want, not another bouquet or jewel. I need him. It's as if he is hiding something, using the gifts as a decoy, to distract me. I'm sure you're wrong, Horatia, it's just your furtive imagination. Well, I do hope so. I do hope I'm wrong. That it's not guilt or remorse. Melissa tried to change the subject to her friends' discomfort and guilt. Are you attending the house party at the Fitzroy's Berkshire estate? Of course, and are you going? Sir Harvey and I will be travelling directly from London. Will you be travelling there on your own? No, Mumma insists she is going, even though we're in mourning. I know she is happy to know you will be settled soon. Yes, so will I. I feel that I've been in no man's land for the last couple of years. To settle to a happy life with a gentleman as a husband will be so settling. Do you love him, Horatia? I definitely like him, esteem him, but love, I'm unsure. I think I might grow to love him over time, but, she paused. But what, Horatia? There's something niggling me. Something he said. I took no notice when he said it, but I just cannot get it out of my head. I cannot dismiss it. What did he say? He mentioned in passing about a past lover he had seen in London recently. Then last week he failed to turn up on two occasions, the Hampton Soiree and the Bramber's Garden Party, after he had confirmed his attendance. Luckily I was attending with Mama, but his excuses did not sound truthful. I could tell by his demeanour. Well, maybe it's just a coincidence, Horatia. You know that something can occur on their estate or with their family. I know. It's just a feeling I have. Maybe I am imagining it. Probably. Bridal nerves, I should think. Probably. That's what Mama said. Horatia replied, but not convinced. Some more tea, Melissa? No, thank you, my dear. I need to get back to Sir Harvey, as I need to ensure he is packed for our journey tomorrow. Yes, I have packed my trunk, just a valise to do, last-minute items I need in the morning. Let's hope that Sir Benedict arrives too. Well then, I will see you on the morrow at the Fitzroy's. Melissa stood, kissed her cheek, then Horatia stood and they embraced fondly before leaving a frowning Horatia, deep in her troubled thoughts. Late June 2015. The Fitzroy House Party, Royal Berkshire. Several traveling coaches were making their way to the Fitzroy estate just the other side of Windsor, and Lady Stanweek had insisted on taking their own carriage, because of something that Horatia had hinted at during dinner a couple of nights before. Although she was usually a little uncaring of Horatia's comfort and needs, there was just a hint that everything was not quite right, so they had declined Sir Benedict's gracious offer of travelling with him and a few friends, one of which, Horatia had discovered, was none other than a Mrs. Cressida Hornsford, who was a young widow, who seemed to be clinging to Sir Benedict's arm as they arrived at the Fitzroy Manor House. Horatia had observed their behavior as they alighted from Sir Benedict's carriage and came into the hall. She overheard the greetings as she stood in the doorway of the green drawing room ready to greet him. Their host, Lord Reginald Fitzroy, intercepted them immediately, and directed his butler and housekeeper to organize their rooms and luggage. Then arm in arm they climbed the stairs chatting, with the widow giggling girlishly at something he said, and he smiled at her in a way that he had never smiled at her, it was warm and almost loving. This was probably his ex-mistress, or even worse, his current mistress. Horatia was livid and could not wait to get to the bottom of this situation before she committed to the marriage vows with this man. She thought she knew him, but now she was having doubts. What a scoundrel to bring his mistress to a house party to which his fiancee was also attending, it was not to be born. She had to have proof, so she stealthily descended the stairs as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself. They continued to the second floor, still arm in arm. Mrs. Hornsford kissed her gloved fingers and placed them on his lips, and he kissed them back, took her hand, kissed her palm and then placed it on his heart. Horatia was seething inside but looked calm on the outside. They reached their allotted rooms, which, due to a happy happenstance, were situated next to each other. How convenient! Horatia thought. The other two friends had the opposite two rooms and had quickly entered and closed their doors, leaving Sir Benedict still in the hallway. Horatia did not know Hisk's friends, as she had not been introduced to them. Their trunks had been stowed in their rooms but they remained in the empty hall. Sir Benedict leaned nonchalantly on the door frame and Mrs. Hornsford settled up to him and walked her fingers up his waistcoat, then walked into him, leaning her voluptuous curves up against his hardness. He stood away from the door frame, then started to walk backwards into his room, dragging a very willing Mrs. Hornsford with him. Horatia knew she would not be seeing them for a while. Are you lost, Miss Stanweek? A deep voice cut into her wrathful thoughts and emotions that were boiling like volcanic lava in her mind and chest, making him step back one pace, her feelings were showing on her face. Are you alright, Miss Danweek? No. I am not alright. Far from it. Her mind in a turmoil, her wrath was then focused on the intruder. As you can see, I am so very angry at this moment, I suggest you get out of my vicinity. And what the hell are you doing here? I received an invitation and agreed to it. I did not expect to encounter such an aggressive greeting from anyone. Especially not you, Miss Stanweek. Lord Templeton, I suggest that you avoid my company at present. I am not fit company for anyone at this moment, my lord. Horatia emphasized. So I can see. Good day, Miss Stanweek. I will extract myself from your company immediately. He replied in an arrogant fashion, so unlike him. He bowed curtly then spun on his heels, and it was not long after this incident that he left the house party giving an excuse linked to the home office, although with Waterloo behind them and the diplomatic part completed, it was now on to another fight for ridding the world of Little Boney after his escape from Elba. After contemplating the situation, realising he was intruding into the life she had chosen, which obviously did not include him, he had decided to retreat back to London to lick his wounds, wishing he had not gone in search of his pee hen, to find her in such a mood. What a waste of his time. Just torturing himself. Back in London, Matthias sat sipping a brandy, in his favourite leather chair next to an unlit fire in contemplation of the life he would lead ahead of him. It looked bleak as he threw back his head to empty his almost full crystal glass, just to refill it again from the decanter. He repeated this several times before seeking his bed, where he lay naked with sleep eluding him. When sleep eventually claimed him it was fitful and dream invaded. His pea hen and her pink confection danced through them, and the memories of the intervening years tormented him. What had he done? Why had he ignored his heart? Now he just had to live with the regret for the rest of his life, but he did not understand why she was so angry, and why was it projected onto him? Horatia noticed Matthias's absence, and wondered about it as she sat in the green drawing room. She realized she had been so angry with her fiancé that she had spoken quite sharply at him, when all he had shown was concern. Regret settled over her, as she never usually took her anger out on people. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.