Raindrops are not the ones who bring the clouds. ~ Sorin Cerin.

Chapter 47.

As the Rain Pours.

The rain pelted down on the window pain, and Beatrice glanced over at the window for the thousandth time.

"What a day," she shook her head. "I pity all the pour souls who must be out in that weather, and I hope it is not large number. Whatever happened to our summer? It was so fine only a week ago."

Beatrice had settled quite comfortably in her new home, and though she saw no one but the Llyod family, the girl kept plenty busy. She gladly helped with the mending and gardening, and took it upon herself to tutor all the family members in reading. The brothers knew there letters but hardly what to do with them, of the three wives only Ceinwen could read out harder words, Blodeuyn was completely illiterate, Aerona on the same level as the brothers.

"Even if there was a good school, we could never afford it," Aerona had confessed to Beatrice. "But no one ever bothers with common folk learning to read, at least not out here."

Thus the evenings in the Lloyd home now turned into a time of learning for the brothers. Their wives would have their tutoring during the day.

Today there was no mending to do, and Beatrice sat by the table, busy scratching away at the paper. She had so many thoughts to put down, thoughts of what she felt society was and what it ought to be like, thoughts of how so much could change in the life of the common folk, and the rich man, and the young woman. Mamma would have been horrifed at such thoughts and such writings, but then Mamma was not here.

It was a peaceful time for Beatrice, yet the sting of Captain Fleet's death still did not leave her. The first month at Llys Gwyn she went faithfull to the tower, but every time the door was locked and the window barred and at last she gave up. Fleets was dead, Raj was gone, it was time to move on. But the sting remained, and it broke her heart to think about it,because no matter how many times she told herself not too, she thought about him all the time.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Beatrice called, turning from her stare at the window to look at the door. Blodeuyn entered, carrying some clean linen.

"Writing again?" She asked in her calm, quiet voice. "I don't see how you can keep at it so often. One thing I have noticed about you, Beatrice, is that you have this great love for the written word."

Beatrice gave a small shrug as she glanced down at the papers on her little table. "I think I inherited that from my father. He was a lawyer and I spent the first half of my childhood in Oxford, surrounded by universities and professors and other learned men. Papa used to sneak me off to lectures. My mother was horrified but I was fascinated. Papa said I should get as much knowledge as I could, it would be useful to me one day. I often find myself wondering how different my life would have been if he had not died. Of course no university in Oxford would ever take a woman as a student, but Papa would have still given me so much and introduced me to so much. He was a soft man, but the one of the best."

"I am sorry he died so young in life."

Tossing her head, Beatrice rose and stretched. "There is little point in feeling sorry for yourself. If I've learned anything in my life is it that the 'poor me's' never get you anywhere. What do you think of the weather, Blodeuyn"

Blodeuyn turned her attention to the window. "I hope my husband returns soon. He has gone out with his brothers to do something 'important', I hardly know what it could be that would force them to be out in the rain, but I pray it won't take long.

"What madness took all seven out there? Those brothers can be overwhelming at times."

Blodeuyn giggled. "I'm afraid I have to agree with you, Beatrice." She set the linen on the table. "Seeing it is such a slow day, and my sisters-in-law are taking care of lunch and dinner, I thought perhaps you would read a bit more with me. I do so want to better myself, be like the educated folk."

"Of course! I'll be glad to." Beatrice fetched the book that Delwyn had recently purchased from the bookstore. "Let us sit down and begin right now."

Before the lesson could begin, however, a commotion in the kitchen alerted the two girrls. There were loud voices and screams and suddenly the door burst open and an armed man walked in. He looked at the two ladies before turning to Beatrice.

"Beatrice Morton?" He said in a low voice.

"Yes?" Beatrice said, her face pale, her heart beating furiously.

"Come with me!"

Beatrice backed away, but he came up and grabbed her roughly by the arm.

"What is the meaning of this?" Blodeuyn demanded, her own face white as a sheet.

The man turned to her, the barrel of his gun directed straight at her. She let out a gasp at the this action.

"It is none of your business, Mrs. Lloyd, stay away and no one will get hurt. If your husband or any of their brothers get involved, they will suffer in the same way their sister suffered when she was taken from them. And you, Miss Morton, let's go!"

"Unhand me!" Beatrice snapped, trying to free herself, but it was no good. She was dragged out of the kitchen, where another man was keeping Aerona and Ceinwen at bay, then into the rain, placed on a horse and with that the two men rode away.

***

The ride was unpleasant and wet and Beatrice didn't enjoy a single moment of it. Who were these men to drag her off like that? She tried to put up a fight, but to no avail. Her questions were left unanswered and all that was left was to wait and see where they would take her.

Thankfully it was not very long and they soon came up to a quaint little cottage. Here her kidnapper dismounted and led her to the front door.

"Lady Blethyn!" Beatrice gasped at the sight of the woman who greeted them. "What is the meaning of this? Why have I been brought here?"

"All in good time, Miss Morton, all in good time," Lady Blethyn replied. She took Beatrice in her firm grasp and led her into the house.

"Look at you, wet from head to foot! Poor girl. Now, we shall dry you off and then we shall have a nice little talk. I am sorry if those two were rough, I don't know what got into them. Don't be frightened, you are among friends now."

Beatrice stared at her in shock, trying to make sense of everything. "How did you know I was here?" She sputtered at last. "Did you tell Mamma?"

"I never tell anyone anything," Lady Blethyn soothed. "But why didn't you come to us? That little house is no place for you. Did you not think I would not shelter you?"

There was something fishy about the whole thing, and Beatrice narrowed her eyes.

"Lady Blethyn..."

"Questions later, my dear. First a bath and a change of clothes. Mary! Mary!"

A young woman appeared in the doorway. Beatrice had to admit she was very pretty with smooth skin, a elegant, slim, and graceful figure, but with hands that were rough and worn away from hard work. Her soft green eyes gazed at Beatrice in a sort of pity that made Beatrice even more concerned about what was going on. Her golden hair was gathered up into a thick bun and she wore the neat and prim outfit of a maid.

"Mary, take Miss Morton upstairs and give her a nice bath."

Mary gave a little bow and motioned for Beatrice to follow her. Figuring she had no other option, and wanting to get out of her soaking dress, Beatrice followed the girl up two flight of stairs, down a corridor and into an attic room. It was small, but neat, with a sturdy bed, a pretty little writing table, cabinet and mirror. The chairs had soft cushions and a few pictures hung on the walls. One window was built into the roof and let in the grey light of the dismal day.

"Your bath is in the little room here, Miss Morton," Mary informed in a soft voice, opening a door in the wall that led to the washing area. "I'll help you take your dress off. I imagine it is awful uncomortable."

"Mary," Beatrice stopped her. "Mary, what is going on?"

The maid shook her head. "I am only a servant, Miss Morton, just here to help you be more comfortable. If you want answers, you must go to the Lady and her son. Please, let us get you out of those wet things."

There was nothing to do but once again go along with it. Despite all the confusion the bath was splendid and a fine gown was fitted on her. Mary dried and combed Beatrice's hair and put it up in comfortable, yet fashionable, way. Food was brought up and Beatrice ate. There were a few books with which to amuse herself, and even some paper and drawing pencils. Yet Beatrice noticed that when Mary left she locked the door behind her, and this gave Beatrice a good deal of alarm.

When the maid returned she informed, "They are waiting for you downstairs, Miss Morton. Do come."

"It's about time," Beatrice grumbled as she shut the book and hurried down the stairs and into the sitting room. She stopped short when she saw Colonel Blethyn there. Lady Blethyn was absent. He rose at the sight of her, shock and surprise registering on his face.

"Miss Morton!" He sputtered.

"Colonel Blethyn, you have returned from the war!"

He smiled that handsome, charming smile. "I have indeed, Miss Morton, and what a surprise to find you in my home. I was in London and heard you had disappeared, but I never did think you went to my home."

"I did not!" Beatrice retorted. "I was brought here against my will only a few hours ago. I thought you might be able to help explain everything. Your mother must have sent for me, but I cannot understand the ways in which she did it."

"I will be sure to ask her," Iestyn promised. "I cannot understand it myself. It is not like her to do such things. I do hope that you have been well these months."

"I suppose." Beatrice replied as she took her seat and Iestyn resume his.

"Why did you run?"

Beatrice let out a sigh and sat down. "Mamma was pressuring me to marry your nephew and I did not want to. He does not wish to marry me either, and there was a fight, and Mamma overstepped her boundaries and I broke with her."

"I see," Iestyn nodded. "And now you are on your own? What do you plan to do?"

"I hardly know, but I will get through."

Iestyn gave a small nod. "Miss Morton, now that you are here perhaps you will allow me to say something before I return you to whever it was you were staying."

Beatrice nodded encouragment, wondering what he was leading too.

"Ever since I have met you, I have been smitten by you. For a long time I have traveled the world and met many women, but none like you. You have a bright mind and interest in so many subjects other women find dull. When I went to fight, I fought in your name, I fought with only your face in my mind and now I come back..."

"Colonel Blethyn!" Beatrice cut him off, jumping to her feet. She couldn't bear to hear such folly anymore. What had gotten into the man's head? "You cannot be implying that you...well...are you making an offer...of...of..." Beatrice had trouble getting the word out, it was so perposterous. "An offer of marriage?"

"Is that so surprising, Miss Morton?"

She let out a cough. She could see he was serious, but she could not believe it. Had he been secretly courting her all this time? Had she been blind to it? "Colonel, sir, you are old enough to be my father! I speak this with no offence at your age, only that it is twenty years senior to mine. Your nephew just made me an offer...and to have his uncle on his knee now. I...I...I hardly know what to make of it. In my otherwise delightful aquaintance with you, I never once even had the slightest inkling, the slightest thought that you were courting me. It never entered my mind that you would consider it."

"Could it enter your mind now?" He cooly asked, obviously offended at her reaction. "Because I am serious in my affections for you. I am well set up in life and can offer you everything you could ever want. In a few weeks I shall be Earl, for my nephew has taken very ill. Saddening as it is, the world must go on. You would be Countess of Llys Gwyn, Lady of the Castle."

"Oh stop, do stop!" Beatrice pleaded. "Colonel, no, I have said before I could never marry you. And I beg, don't try to buy me with promises of titles and wealth, they have never held anything for me. I ran away from them when I fled London. I am sorry, but I have no desire to be your wife. I never encouraged you; I never saw this coming, and I ask that you put aside this foolish charade and take me back at once! I don't know who staged this whole thing, but it is not funny, in fact it is cruel!"

Iestyn inhaled sharply. "You do not want me?"

"Not in that manner I don't! I never did! If you want to marry, cannot you find someone closer to your age. Twenty years is too large a gap for me. Colonel Blethyn, you will be forty two in half a year's time. I beg of you, stop looking at me like that and come to your senses."

"My senses are in perfect order," he retorted in an icy voice. "So you prefer a younger man, do you? Your prefer Captain Fleets, do you?"

He caught Beatrice by surprise. She blinked in horror. "How...how...how can you know that?" She stammered out. The shock was so great she could not even try to hide or cover up the fact that she had know Captain Fleets, that she had prefered him.

Iestyn let out a laugh that sent a chill down Beatrice's spine. It was a laugh new to her, and she didn't like it.

"I have known for a long time, Miss Morton, for a long, long time; though not long enough. I was with him the hour he died, he told me the entire story. You are the one who drove the poor captain to his grave! It was a cruel joke you played on him! Throwing yourself into his arms and then disappearing like that! Why do you think he went out into the army? He wanted death to take him, and it did, though not in the way he wished. The hope of dying with honor and dignity was taken from him. So yes, I did know, and I wish you would have stayed away from him!"

Beatrice bit her lip. She would not cry in front of this man, but his words stung her to the heart. Of course, of course it had been her fault. To this day she could not stop blaming herself.

"It wasn't like that," she stammered out.

"Not like I care," Iestyn retorted. "The man is dead and that is the end of it. Now, to return to the matter of my offer."

"I have told you, no." Beatrice stated. "And no it remains. There, we have settled the matter, now have me returned."

"Returned?" Iestyn hissed. "Returned to where? To Mamma?"

"You wouldn't dare?"

"Oh, wouldn't I?" He rose to his feet, and stood a good two head taller than her, looking down with a hard glare. "You are a stubborn, proud English woman, Beatrice Morton. But you cannot always have it your way. I will return you to Mamma, do not think for a moment that I will not, unless you consent to marry me."

"How dare you?" Beatrice snapped, her face flushing with anger. "How dare you blackmail me like this!"

"You leave me no choice, Miss Morton. I'll give you a few days to think my offer through. Let us see if time will bring you to your senses. Five days! I give you five days to think it over. It is a long time, you can recall your entire life! Go through every single detail of it, and in the decide. Either you become my wife, have a life of comfort and ease, I will respect you and give you everything your heart desires. You can read science and philosophy and discuss it with other bright minds, or you cant return to your Mamma and b her little porcelian poodle again! The choice is up to you, Beatrice Morton."

With these words Iestyn ran a bell and the manservant who had first kidnapped her came and led her to her room, where he locked her in. Beatrice went straight way to the window and standing on her tip-toes, looked out. No trees, no vines, nothing, nothing she could use to climb down. She was stuck in an attic room on the third floor, and to make matters worse, it looked out into the front of the house. No doubt treaterous Colonel Blethyn would have someone guarding the door to her room, reading to break in at a moment's notice. Clenching her fists in frustration, Beatrice plopped down on the bed.

"You won't despair, Beatrice," she comforted herself. "You've gotten out of locked rooms before, and you'll do it again. It will just take some thinking."

***

George Errol was staring at the rain pouring down the the window at Denster Hall. It had been raining all day yesterday, and the entire day before that.

"When is it going to end?" George muttered. It was very gloomy weather, as gloomy as his life had become. Who would have thought that Charles could be so stubborn. What had that little Welsh heiress done to his son? Where was the careless boy who didn't care for anything?

Not that George minded the fact that Charles was becoming a responsible young man, it was just he had to take fancy to a girl who couldn't give them what they needed.

"Why, Charles?" George muttered. "Why?"

His thoughts were interrupted by the door bursting open and a dripping, dark, little man in a funny attire came rushing in. He was followed by a breathless pair of servants who had obviously been trying to stop him.

"Sahib! You Grace!" The man sputtered in a thick accent. "I beg of you, where is Master Charles?"

George rose from his seat. "Who the devil are you?"

"Raj, I am Raj."

"Who?"

"The servant of your nephew, Elwyn Blethyn, Earl of Llys Gwyn."

George scowled. "Oh yes, he had some sort of Indian fellow, now I remember. It's alright, the two of you behind him, leave him be. What do you want, Raj?"

"Master Charles, where is Master Charles? Is he here?"

"Of course not! I don't know where you've been the past three months, but Charles no longer lives in Denster Hall."

"Then where is he, where is he?"

George couldn't understand this wet man who seemed to completely forget his position as servant and was use such a tone with a Duke.

"In London of course! In 'Parliament'! Pah, what an idiotic profession he chose for himself! Charles, the polititian. Humbug!"

"London? Where? At your residence?"

"No, dimwit, didn't you hear what I said? We no longer talk, the two of us! He left me for that little Llewelyn girl, Catrin I believe her name is. Last I saw him was in May. He lived in some hole, I don't know if he is there right now."

"But I need to find him, Sahib, I need to find him. Tell me, tell me now!"

"Goodness me, but your are demanding!"

"NOW! My master's life depends on it!"

George shook his head. "Elwyn is pulling his old tricks again, eh? That man is nothing but trouble. I don't know where to find Charles, but I do know that if you go to Mrs. Fairfax, you'll find Catrin Lleweyln, and where you find Miss Llewelyn, you find Charles."

"And where does she live! Please, tell me the address!"

Still not quite understanding what was going on, George went over and scribbled the address on a piece of paper. Raj snatched it out of his hand and ran off.

"What is the world coming to?" George muttered as he plopped down to watch the pouring rain again.