Scarlett

Book 1: Women of Fire Trilogy

by Claire Lorrimer

Genres: Historical Fiction

Synopsis

Sir John Danesfield, captivated by his illegitimate daughter's spirit, takes her to Regency London to live with his mistress. At fifteen, Scarlett falls in love with the Vicomte Gerard de Valle, an impoverished French nobleman. Believing him lost to her, she enters a loveless marriage arranged by her father. When her husband dies she seeks Gerard across the Napoleonic war-ravaged wastes of Europe. It is finally to the snowy battlefields of Russia that Scarlett, passionate, headstrong and courageous, goes in search of the man she loves.

Release date: October 6, 2011

Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Print pages: 400

Sample

PART ONE – 1779–1796

SIR JOHN DANESFIELD (Scarlett’s father)

DRUSCILLA, LADY DANESFIELD (his wife)

PRUDENCE AND SELINA DANESFIELD (their daughters)

SCARLETT (Sir John’s natural daughter)

LETITIA ASHWORTH (Scarlett’s mother and governess to the Danesfield children)

CLARISSA MANTON (Sir John’s mistress)

VICOMTE ANTOINE DE VALLE (deceased)

VICOMTESSE MARIANNE DE VALLE (his wife)

VICOMTE GERARD DE VALLE (their son)

JULES (manservant to Gerard)

MASTER THOMAS SALE (farmer, Scarlett’s foster father)

MISTRESS AGNES SALE (wife of above)

DICKON SALE (eldest son of above)

PATTY, ANNA, HENRY, EDWARD SALE (Sale’s other children)

GILBERT, LORD BARRE (Sir John’s friend)

BARON VON GOTTFRIED (Austrian card cheat who dishonoured Antoine de Valle)

ARTHUR GLOVER (Scarlett’s Sussex tutor)

MARQUIS DE GUÉRIDON (friend of the late Vicomte and the Vicomtesse de Valle)

HON. JAMES PETTIGREW (Gerard’s Eton school friend)

HON. ANNE PETTIGREW (James’ sister and friend of Gerard)

HERR MEHLER (Austrian music teacher)

MARQUIS DE FAENZA

DONNA MERCEDES DE FAENZA (daughter of above)

BARON VON EBURHARD

BARONESS LISA VON EBURHARD (wife of above, school friend of Clarissa Manton)

BARONESS HELGA VON HEISSEN (Gerard’s one-time mistress)

ROSE (Clarissa’s maid)

PART TWO – 1797–1799

PERCY LADE (Anne Pettigrew’s fiancé)

CLARENCE BARRE (cousin and heir to Lord Barre)

THOMAS SPRAY

GEORGE PRING (smugglers)

WILL BENNETT

SPENCER COLLINSON

ANTOINETTE (Scarlett’s child)

PRINCE MONTE-GINCINTO

PRINCESS ISABELLA MONTE-GINCINTO (his wife)

DONNA FAUSTINA MONTE-GINCINTO (daughter of above)

DONNA TORINA (Faustina’s duenna)

PART THREE – 1803–1812

SISTER MARIE-THERÈSE

THOMAS, EMMA, HARRY LADE (Percy and Anne Lade’s children)

LUTHER (Scarlett’s butler)

GIDEON MORRIS (alias Peregrine Waite)

JOHN WARD

THOMAS CREEVEY

MISS PAYNE (Antoinette’s governess)

BARON STERN

BARONESS STERN

GEORG (Baron von Gottfried’s manservant)

PROFESSOR SPIEGEL (Austrian surgeon)

NIKOLAI KURAGIN (Gerard’s captor and servant)

RICHARD FORTESCUE (Antoinette’s tutor)

SIR FREDERICK MORRIS (Gideon’s father)

1779

At the age of thirty-six, Sir John Danesfield was in the prime of life. He was a tall man of great physical strength, enormous
energy, and superior intelligence. He was also immensely virile and passionately susceptible to women’s charms.


On the evening of December 4, 1779, he sat alone in the library of his home, Wyfold House, Piccadilly. He was sated after
a vast dinner eaten alone in the big dining-room but far from satisfied in all his bodily appetites. If he so wished, he could
call upon a quite exceptional number of ladies of his acquaintance who would be happy to open the doors of their bedchambers
to him. Rich, titled, aristocratic and by any standards a handsome man, he seldom lacked the female company he constantly
required, but somewhat unusually for him, he now found himself in the unfortunate position of desiring one particular female
– and she, to his ever increasing frustration, was resisting his every advance.


Sir John finished a second glass of brandy and became even more uncomfortably aware of the fire in his blood. His conscience
was at war with his determination to seduce the girl under his roof whom he could summon to his presence by a mere pull upon
the bell rope.


Restlessly, he rubbed a hand up and down his hawklike nose, dark eyebrows drawn down in a scowl as he pondered his moral scruples.
Upstairs lay his miserable wife Druscilla, and in the nursery wing, his two young daughters. As usual, all three were in ill
health, coughing, sneezing and snivelling in what appeared to be their permanent condition every year when the chills of winter
attacked them. Robust himself, Sir John found any kind of sickness distasteful. He had never loved his wife and, of late,
he found himself more and more often resenting his marriage, despite the financial advantages it had brought him. He was thankful
that following upon the difficult birth of their second daughter, Selina, their hitherto dutiful cohabitation had ceased by
unspoken, mutual agreement.


Sir John reflected that his wife had never shown anything but the greatest distaste for this side of her married life; and
this being the case, his conscience need not trouble him if he found his pleasures elsewhere. Unfortunately, his conscience
could not so easily be set aside in relation to the young woman he now desired most urgently to bed.


Letitia Ashworth had come to his house a year ago as governess to the five-year-old Prudence, his eldest daughter. His wife
had engaged the girl, the daughter of a Derbyshire parson. He, himself, had barely noticed the quiet fair-haired girl in her
unobtrusive grey gown with Quaker collar and cuffs of starched white linen.


Occasionally, this past summer, he came upon her walking in the garden with the child. She bobbed a curtsy, kept her eyes
down and her hands folded and answered his dutiful questions as to the child’s welfare in a voice so quiet he had to strain
to hear her replies. If he felt anything at all, it had been a faint irritation because her downcast lashes, Quaker primness
and convent-like demeanour reflected, so it seemed to him, his wife’s obsession with the life religieuse. His own nature demanded colour, vitality, laughter, activity and although he appreciated a feminine woman, his preference
was for the voluptuous, the flamboyant, and passionate.


She had first come to his attention one day last summer. He returned home unexpectedly one afternoon to discover her quite
alone in his wife’s powder room. She was dressed in one of Druscilla’s most lavish and seldom worn ball gowns, beautifully
coiffed powdered wig upon her head, pivoting with obvious delight at her reflection in front of the mirror.


The girl did not observe him as he had stood staring in silent astonishment. He was intrigued and amused by this transformation
of his prim young governess. The lace ruffles of the dress fell delicately off the beautiful creamy roundness of the girl’s
shoulders and rose even more tantalizingly over the tender curve of her breasts. The embroidered bodice of the gown enhanced
the taut uplift of the young bosom and narrowed excitingly to a waist so tiny that he would have had no difficulty in encircling
it with his hands.


But it was not her figure alone which prompted a sudden upsurge of all-too-familiar desire. Letitia’s green eyes were sparkling
with excitement, her oval face tilted provocatively to one side as she admired herself and her hands moved over her body outlining
its curves with an unmistakable sensuous pleasure. He knew instinctively that she was imagining a man’s hands were touching
her, and his desire to be that man was so violent that he caught his breath.


She swung round and saw him. The colour rushed to her cheeks and she caught her little red tongue between her teeth as she
gasped in guilty dismay at having been discovered.


A kindly man, Sir John had at once sought to dispel her fears.

“Do not worry, my dear!” he said, as he took a step into the room toward her. “I have no intention of telling your mistress
about your little escapade.” He knew very well, as the girl herself must have known, that Druscilla would instantly have dismissed
the young governess from her service had she known of this. “In truth, you look so charming, I regret you cannot more often
attire yourself in such fashion.”


Letitia looked upon the point of tears, the blush fading from her cheeks as she stammered out her apologies. She was in such
pitiful confusion that he decided to make his retreat and allow her to collect her wits and remove her borrowed finery in
peace.


From then on, the girl blushed whenever she chanced to meet him in the house or garden. Keeping her eyes downcast, she would
answer his amused questions in monosyllables. But having glimpsed that other woman with fire and passions half awakened, he
knew she needed only a lover’s touch to ignite the conflagration. And Sir John Danesfield wanted to be that man.


That Letitia was now as aware of him as he was of her, he had no doubt. Her very avoidance of him betrayed her fear of him.
As the summer days passed to autumn, he sought her more and more often, finding a dozen pretexts for summoning her to his
presence. She, in turn, did her best to evade any encounter with him. She remained always either in the company of her young
charge or of his wife. Sir John had little doubt this self-imposed chaperonage was deliberate and though he was enormously
frustrated by it, he was by no means displeased that she should feel afraid to trust herself alone with him. Sir John was
not particularly conceited but his lifelong successes with women left him in no doubt that they found him attractive. He was,
therefore, a self-confident lover in pursuit of a new quarry.


But this girl presented a serious problem for him. Her virtue, by nature of her upbringing and class, was of utmost importance
to her and any kind of liaison with a man would preclude her ultimate hopes of marriage. It was not his habit to dishonour
virgins. There was yet another reason why he hesitated to pursue his attentions further. As a man of honour, he had essayed
to be a dutiful husband and afford his sickly spouse the respect due her as his wife and the mother of his two disappointing
daughters. He had tried not to show too obviously his resentment that she had failed to give him a son and built a life for
himself outside his home, enjoying his various sporting activities, pastimes and women apart from his family, leaving his
wife free to run his home in the convent-like atmosphere she seemed to approve. It was not, therefore, his habit to indulge his baser appetites beneath his own roof.


But these moral scruples had become insidiously weakened in the last six months, during which time he had grown more and more
frustrated as his awareness of the girl increased his thwarted desires. The girl, herself, was now as obviously aware of him.
She was unable to control the trembling of her hands when he spoke to her, nor the delicate blush on her cheeks if he passed
her on the stairway and their bodies touched.


This evening, his scruples were finally overcome. The brandy which he had drunk in order to bring about a degree of insensibility
had merely inflamed his desire. Moreover, with the children long since abed and his wife confined to her sick room, he knew
that tonight Letitia would be without the protection of their company. The servants would not go up to the nursery quarters
unless summoned.


Letitia was sitting at the nursery table, correcting sums when, unannounced, he opened the door and found her.

To Sir John the nursery lit by firelight seemed warm, intimate and welcoming after the austere masculinity of his book-lined
library.


Letitia rose awkwardly to her feet, eyes downcast as usual, cheeks aflame. She waited for Sir John to speak but he remained
silent and she felt herself forced at length to look up at him. He was standing in the open doorway staring at her. There
could be no mistaking the expression on his flushed face and her blush deepened. For a long moment, they stood there, eyes
locked across the distance between them. Then Sir John closed the door behind him.


She had imagined this situation so often both in her dreams and hours of waking that now there came a feeling of unreality
as the tall dominant figure moved towards her. She was both afraid and desirous of his approach. Many times in the past few
months she had faced the reality of her situation and knew very well that a girl in her position was frequently at the mercy
of the gentlemen in the house, as were all the lower echelons of the household staff. Her mother had warned her of these dangers
and cautioned her about the terrible consequences, but she had not warned her that her own body’s needs might betray her or
spoken of the feelings a young girl of twenty might experience were she to fall in love.


Letitia’s heart, mind, and body were in a turmoil almost equal to that of her employer as the handsome Sir John pursued her
relentlessly throughout the long hot summer. His eyes were forever demanding a response she knew she must not give, requesting
an encouragement that could only bring about her downfall. Her strict parsonage upbringing left her in no doubt as to the
sinfulness of her romantic thoughts about her employer. Her father would consider Sir John to be a wicked man, and Letitia
was confused by the certainty that he was far from wicked. Living as she did in Sir John’s house, she was aware that there
was no love in his marriage. Lady Danesfield made no attempt to hide her revulsion at her husband’s presence. She sighed with
relief when Sir John left the house, complained continuously about the obnoxious smell of his tobacco fumes, of his untidiness,
his very maleness an affront to the shadowy cloistered silence she endeavoured to maintain in the house.


Letitia herself was oppressed by the colourless unsmiling austerity of Druscilla Danesfield’s preferred way of life and although
it was not unlike her own austere home where her father believed in rigorous discipline and adherence to God’s teachings,
at least there had been some warmth in her mother’s soft voice or in the way her eyes rested fondly upon her husband. Letitia
had been aware of the loving relationship between her parents and even felt, at times, excluded from some magic circle enclosing
them and longed for the day when she would find some man who would love and marry her and with whom she, too, could experience
this privileged unity.


She had not thought of herself as beautiful or desirable until Sir John had discovered her dressing up in Lady Danesfield’s
ball gown. He had come upon her when she was in the process of learning there was a very different aspect of her nature than
that of the prim, demure girl her mother had carefully encouraged her to be, and one far more in keeping with her most secret
feelings. If the sight of her reflection had not been disturbing enough, the look in Sir John’s eyes was sufficient to bring
the truth frighteningly home to her – that the love of God was not, as her father had promised, sufficient to sustain her
throughout life.


Letitia stood up, her green eyes returning Sir John’s gaze as if mesmerized by his proximity. He hesitated. The chase was
over and the quarry at bay. But somehow he could not bring himself to take that last irrevocable step. The girl looked so
terrifyingly young and helpless, so frighteningly vulnerable.


He put out a hand and laid it with clumsy gentleness on the soft silkiness of her hair.

“Letitia!” he said, his voice husky with urgent desire for her. “You know why I have come to find you, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“You wanted me to come to you, did you not?” he insisted.

Her eyelids closed over her eyes in momentary confusion.

“Yes, sir. I suppose I did. And yet …”

He turned away from the despairing look and said with an anger that was not so much directed at her as against his own weakness,
“My name is John! Call me by it!” This was no time to be feeling sorry for her, he told himself.


“Yes, John!” she said so softly he barely heard her words.

Her shyness delighted him and intensified his desire for her. He sat down on the chair she had vacated and taking her hands,
pulled her toward him. Through the thin fabric of her dress, he could feel her trembling.


“I’m not going to force you, my dear. You are at liberty to say nay, if that is your wish. You have no need to fear violation
from me.”


Suddenly, she found her voice.

“It is not my wish to refuse you, sir … John,” she corrected herself. “But, I am afraid. Not exactly of you. But because this
– this is wrong.”


He felt a moment of triumph. He had been right in his assumption that she was by no means averse to him as a man. Only her
moral scruples stood between him and what he had wanted for so long.


“Is it your fear of committing a sin that has caused you to avoid me so cruelly?” he asked, half-seriously, half-teasing.
When she did not answer him, he drew her closer against him and said harshly, “Can you really have no idea how such behaviour
has tormented me? Never a glance, never a smile from those pretty eyes of yours! Was it your intention to drive me to despair?”


Her breath came now in short gasps. She could feel the heat of his body through her dress and it seemed as if every nerve
in her own body had come to the surface, and awaited the touch of his hand upon her.


“I did not know you were so affected!” she said in a low voice. “I hoped that if I were to keep myself from your sight, we
might both think less about our sinful longings!”


To her surprise, a smile spread over his face at her puritanical choice of words.

“Sinful!” he repeated. “Maybe so! Yet somehow I doubt the need men and women have for one another was ever intended by God
to be a matter of sin.”


“I do not know any more what is right or wrong!” she cried. “I know only that my conscience tells me it would be wrong. And
that I – I love you!”


He could feel her trembling. It inflamed him. Fighting hard to control his excitement, he said, “So, ’tis love you feel for
me! And yet you gave me no sign of it all this summer long.”


Her cheeks coloured.

“Maybe because, sir, you gave no sign of love to me. Indeed, I did not expect any, for you are a married man and not free
to give love to another.”


“So it is love that you are seeking rather than your salvation from sin!” he said. “Would then my declaration of love make
the difference to your ‘yea’ or ‘nay’?”


Her hesitation was not feigned. Her eyes were very serious as she said slowly, “I think that it would – even though it cannot
lessen the sin of wrongdoing. Love, methinks, is a powerful emotion and as such, offers at least an excuse for breaking the
Commandment.”


“Thou shalt not commit adultery?” he asked. “No, not that, my charming little preacher, for you are unmarried and it is only
I who would commit adultery. And for that sin I have no conscience nor ever had, and I think you well know the reason, Letitia.”


She nodded.

“Leave me to my sinning!” he said quietly. “It is you and not my sins I have upon my conscience for though I might love you,
I cannot marry you, as well you know.”


Her eyes now widened in tremulous surprise and happiness.

“I was not aware that you felt love for me!” she said. “How could I have presumed so much from a man of your years, your position,
your experiences. Why should you love me? You know nothing of me but that I am from a simple parsonage background and that
I am your children’s governess. Of my character and intelligence you can know nothing, nor of my true nature or beliefs. How
then can you be sure you love me?”


The logic and directness of her thinking came to him as a sharp rebuke for his deception. He had not intended to make a declaration
of love, but he knew that if he withdrew it now, he must lose her. With her slender young body trembling between his thighs,
he was not strong enough to resist the advantage she had so innocently given him.


“All that I have observed about you since you came to live in my house, I have learned to love and respect!” he said. At least
this much was true. “And I suspect that were I to know you better, my feelings of affection could only increase. Letitia,
do you know what I am suffering? Before God, I need you. I pray you, do not deny me longer!”


His hands moved swiftly upward to the soft swelling of her young bosom. Beneath the flimsy material of her gown, he could
feel the sharp outline of her hardening nipples and with a cry, he buried his face against her. Her long sweet-smelling hair
tumbled about his flushed cheeks and the swift rise and fall of her bosom seemed already in unison with his own fast breathing.


For months he had secretly dreamed of seeing her naked. Now he knew he had only to unbutton the fastenings of her dress and
she would be revealed to him. His heart beat even faster with an excitement that increased twofold when suddenly she lifted
her arms to assist him while he struggled with the tantalizing buttons. The dress fell to the floor in a heap about her feet.
Impatiently, he began to tear away the rest of her garments. She made no protest at his feverish fumblings, but helped him
as best she could.


When at last she stood naked before him, he could not take his gaze from her. No woman had ever seemed more desirable, her
small perfectly formed young breasts peeping between the modest coverings of her small white fingers. His hands feverishly
encircled the tiny waist, ran down the gentle curve of her hips, over her stomach and the light gold triangle of hair, and
gripped the long slim legs.


“You are in truth a Venus in miniature!” he said hoarsely, and releasing her began to tear at his own clothing. “Help me!”
he commanded, but need not have done so for now she was as eager as he for the touch of his naked flesh against hers. She
had never seen a man’s body and curiosity mingled with desire. When he stood before her, proud and unashamed in his manhood,
she lost the last traces of modesty and reached out to hold him, her eyes burning with impatience.


Sir John curbed his longing to take her quickly and cruelly. Many years of possessing women had taught him that the rewards were always sweeter when passion was reciprocal. Some women offered their bodies for a man’s pleasure but themselves
found no delight in the union. It was true that reciprocation was not expected of them but when a man found a fire to match
his own, its very rarity increased the power of the flames.


He kissed and fondled Letitia until her soft sighs gave way to low moans of pleasure. They were lying where they had undressed
one another on the thick carpet before the fire. He would have lifted her and carried her to one of the bedchambers but was
afraid if he did so, her ardour might cool and reason reassert itself. He knew that although he was not acting against her
will, he was nonetheless seducing her. But his conscience was quickly enough deadened by her unabashed delight in him. Now
she was discovering the fierce needs of her body so carefully inhibited by her parents’ teaching for the past seven years,
and allowed them free expression as she cast off one by one the chains of her upbringing.


When at last Sir John could endure the waiting no longer and he thrust himself into her with a wild cry of delight, she flinched
only once with pain before her hands clenched against his back, pressing him even more deeply into her. It was as if she were
as eager as he for her own deflowering.


Sweat poured from their bodies as they lay locked together before the fire. Like a little animal, Letitia put out her small
pink tongue and licked his glistening skin. Much moved by the sweetness of this loving gesture, he kissed her parted lips
and spoke words of love to her that brought a happy smile to her lips.


“I love you with all my heart, dearest John!” she declared. “I cannot feel that we have been bad in what we have done. Tell
me again you do not think we have sinned.”


He closed his eyes, unwilling that she should see the uneasiness in them. She had not sinned. But he had. She had been totally
innocent and he had no justification for changing her from virgin to mistress. Yet that must be the outcome of this night’s
pleasure. He could not keep away from her now. He would unquestionably desire her again and yet again. The girl had but started out upon the road of discovery and with each
experience would find new ecstasies and pleasures as her innately sensuous nature burst into full bloom. From such beginnings,
who could put a limit upon the delights they would now share! He was aware of them before she could do more than suspect them.
He could not leave her now.


He stopped her questioning with kisses and reassurances of his love and regard for her. As to her future, he did not allow
himself to contemplate it.


Up until Christmas, Lady Danesfield complained ceaselessly to Letitia that her husband was spending more and more time at
home. He was forever underfoot, impossible to ignore, disrupting the quiet of the well-ordered nursery where he overexcited
little Prudence with his hearty laughter and boisterous play.


“Let us hope he will cease this charade of paternal concern once the festivities are over!” Druscilla moaned. “For to be sure,
my head is aching with all the noise.”


Such remarks filled Letitia with ever-increasing remorse and guilt. She was the reason why Sir John no longer left his home
for the pleasures of the gaming rooms. Since the night when they had first expressed their love and need for each other, there
was no halting the tidal wave that followed. There was no secluded shadowy corner of the great house where they had not stolen
kisses, touched one another hungrily; barely a single night when he had not come to her bedchamber and spent the long hours
with her in an abandonment of loving. And she, far from discouraging him as she knew was her moral duty, desired him as often
and feverishly as he desired her.


Letitia tried, ineffectually, to voice her reluctance to go on living in such a manner in his house where she must daily face
the wretched woman they were deceiving. But Sir John overruled her objections with the simple argument that Druscilla had
no love for him. As to Letitia’s receiving delights that were his wife’s by right, she must understand that a man’s body was as distasteful to Druscilla as it was welcome to her.


Letitia might have found resistance easier if Sir John had proved an unkind or thoughtless man. But he remained remarkably
patient with his ever-complaining and sickly wife, as he also did with his sniffling daughters. Prudence approached him only
when he held out some sweetmeat to her and then struggled from his arms if he attempted to pet or fondle her.


He was ever kind, attentive and loving toward Letitia although she had begun to doubt now that he loved her in the same degree
as she loved him. She would happily have died for him had he demanded it. She would, if he so wished, have left his employ
and become his mistress, accepting the open admission of her lost virtue, the inevitable rejection by her family and the end
of any hopes she might have entertained for marriage.


He stressed that he found this new passion in his life perfectly satisfying in every respect and was unhappy that she, too,
did not find it so. So she became silent, keeping her fears, misgivings and remorse to herself; she resolved that she would
bring their relationship to an end. By giving in her notice and leaving the house forever, she would place herself beyond
the reach of temptation.


But each determination was undermined by the far stronger need for her lover. He had but to glance at her across a room to
set her blood raging. She feared that she would never find the strength of mind to leave him.


December sped by. The New Year began with a bitterly cold January. Letitia now had other worries upon her mind. By February
she was no longer in doubt that she was with child.


Had she known of it a month earlier, she might have told Sir John of her predicament. But throughout January it became terrifyingly
plain to her that his love for her was cooling. He was once more absenting himself for long periods from Wyfold House. For
two long weeks, he disappeared to the country game-shooting. Her body ached in protest at this sudden curtailment of their loving. When he returned, she knew that he had scarcely missed her. He came, as usual, to her bedchamber, but his