Page 1 of A Countess of Convenience

Prologue

Cambridgeshire, March 1762

“We’re here, my dear. You’re home.” Dora Harper heaved a sigh of relief as the carriage stopped before the front door of a stately Tudor manor house, grateful to have arrived in time. Judith, her sister-in-law, could die in peace, at home in the arms of the parents who loved her.

The silent figure in the corner of the carriage, insensible as always, gave no response.

Dora hadn’t expected one, not really. Although, deep down, she hoped Judith was happy to be home at last. The grueling three-day journey from Dora’s home in Wiltshire, near Devizes, where Judith had resided since her marriage eight years before, had seemed to have little effect on the pitifully thin woman. Caring for the invalid with only one maid, however, had taxed even Dora’s seemingly boundless strength and patience to the breaking point. They would all enjoy a rest here at Ruecroft Manor before Dora continued her own journey northward.

“Hastings,” Dora called to the coachman, “please inform Mr. and Mrs. Welbourne—”

“Judith?” A high, quivery voice rent the brisk air as a woman’s face filled the carriage window, wreathed in a broad smile. “Judith, love, it’s your Mamma.”

Judith stared straight ahead, quite unaware of her mother’s frantic words.

“Larkin, help me raise her up. Perhaps if she sees her mother, it will help in some way.” Dora grasped her sister-in-law’s right arm as her maid took the left, and they pulled Judith into a sitting position. She had little hope this would make a difference, but sight of her parents must do it if anything would.

Hastings opened the carriage door, and the Welbournes surged inward, trying to grab their daughter to them.

“She cannot walk, Mrs. Welbourne.” Dora held Judith by the shoulders as her legs slithered out the door. “Hastings, can you manage?”

“Yes, miss.” The brawny coachman scooped the slight frame into his arms.

Mrs. Welbourne burst into tears. Her husband scowled but gestured toward the open door of the house with his silver-tipped cane. “Take her in there, to the parlor on the right.”

Led by Hastings, the little procession mounted the single granite step and hurried past the startled butler into the warmth of a cozy room with a well-laid fire. Rough beamed, white-washed walls brightened the gloom of the day, and Dora sighed in relief as the coachman settled Judith into a large, comfortable-looking chair near the fireplace. “That should be fine, Hastings. Thank you. You can take the carriage around to the stables.” With Larkin’s help, she began to remove Judith’s cloak.

Mrs. Welbourne settled into the chair beside Judith’s, not taking her gaze off her daughter’s face.

“Thank you, sir.” Mr. Welbourne nodded to the coachman. “Inman, have James show him the way. And ask Mrs. Walgrave to see that Miss Harper’s maid has everything she needs.” Judith’s father sent one more stricken look to his daughter. “I’m going to the library, my dear. Let you and Judith…settle in here and I’ll make sure Mrs. Walgrave has her room prepared.” His lips thinned then he limped out of the room, followed by Hastings.

“We’re just so shocked at Judith’s condition, you see, Miss Harper.” Mrs. Welbourne dabbed at her eyes then leaned over to pat Judith’s hands. “So very shocked. Lady Downing wrote to us, of course, in November that our daughter was ailing, and has sent several notes to apprise us of her progress.” She stared at her daughter’s vacant face and sobbed anew. “But your mother never hinted Judith was so desperately ill.”

“I’m very sorry for that, Mrs. Welbourne.” Dora could’ve shaken her mother for keeping Judith’s true condition from her parents. “I believe she thought Judith would rally with time and didn’t wish to worry you unduly.” More likely, her parents had not wanted the expense nor inconvenience of having the Welbournes arrive at Harper’s Grange to take care of their daughter. “Unfortunately, she has not regained her sensibilities since the accident.”

“Accident?” The distraught mother stared at Dora, a frown darkening her face. “I thought… Your mother wrote that Judith had fallen ill. Did she have an accident?”

As Dora had feared, her mother had lied to Mrs. Welbourne about the circumstances of Judith’s illness. “Yes, ma’am. She…tripped in her bedroom and fell, hitting her head on the corner of the hearth.” The statement was mostly true, at least. “She was unconscious for two days, but finally she opened her eyes. I was sure then she would recover.” Dora cast a fond glance at the woman who’d been her only friend in her parents’ house. “But she’s not been able to do much ever since.”

“Can she speak at all?” Mrs. Welbourne stroked a lock of hair off Judith’s face.

“Some random words now and then.” Not terribly encouraging, but better than complete silence. “Occasionally, she will say Simon’s name.”

“Does she know?”

Shaking her head, Dora sighed. “I don’t think so. I did tell her when he died, but I don’t know if she understood me or not.”

Judith and Dora had been the only members of the family not rendered prostrate by her brother Simon’s death. Her parents had mourned their only son so deeply the entire house had been draped in black crepe. The servants had been required to dress in black and no visitors had been received since that awful day in late January when her brother had breathed his last.

Dora thought it supremely just that Simon had died of a blow to the head after his treatment of his wife. And that another of his victims—Violet Carlton, now Lady Trevor—had dealt the blow that eventually killed him.

“And Anna?” Mrs. Welbourne raised hopeful eyes to her.

Dora shook her head. “Unfortunately, nothing has changed since I last wrote to you.”

A knock at the door startled Dora, who looked inquiringly at Mrs. Welbourne.

“I asked the local physician to come by this afternoon, in hopes Judith would be here. I wished him to see Judith now that she will be his patient.” Mrs. Welbourne sent a sad smile to Dora. “I’m not sure what he will say when he sees her. What I told him was completely incorrect.”