Harriet and the Colonel, Ch. 1 (part 1)

Harriet Phillips ran a hand lovingly over the piano in her sister’s music room as a memory from last year’s ball flitted in three-four time through her mind. Had it truly been a year already since she had waltzed with the man she loved in this very room? What a wonderful night that had been!

Well, not all of it had been delightful. There had been all those other gentlemen to dance with. She blew out a soft breath. There still were many hopeful suitors who spoke prettily to her and requested dances and drives and the like. However, they had no hope. Even before she had danced with Colonel Fitzwilliam and discovered he loved her, her heart had not been available to them. It had always and only ever belonged to her colonel.   

“Are you going to play for us tonight?” Her sister Samantha’s question was asked with a laugh. Anyone who knew Harriet knew that she did not play the piano.

“No, I was just remembering.”

“Ah,” her sister whispered. “Do you plan to dance with Colonel Fitzwilliam again tonight?”

“Has he accepted his invitation?” She would be surprised if he had.

Her sister sighed. “No, he has not, though I had hoped he would.”

“I thought not, since he is in Hertfordshire. It would be very strange for him to return to town just to play your piano and secretly dance with me.”

Samantha chuckled. “Actually, I would not be surprised if he did. Anyone who has been watching him for a year, like I have been, would know just how much he adores you. I dare say even Edmund cannot deny the truth of that.”

Edmund was their brother – their sole surviving brother. He, too, was a colonel, but now, since Matthew’s death, he was also Lord Lillesley and – she sighed – her guardian, who seemed set on the idea that she should marry higher than a second son with a somewhat dangerous profession. How he could deny her the chance to marry his dearest friend was beyond her. She was also not certain how Colonel Fitzwilliam bore with such nonsense – for that was what it was – utter balderdash. For her brother’s opinion was foolishness through and through.

“It really does not matter to Edmund how much his friend loves me or how much I love his friend. He is bent on doing as father wished when he was alive. At least Matthew had softened to the idea of letting me choose where my heart led.”

“Aw, Harry, you know Edmund will eventually relent. Despite his formidable personality, he is not father. He could never say no to you any more than Matthew could. Indeed, I dare say Edmund is less likely to be able to deny you anything because you have always been his special little shadow.” She hugged her little sister tightly. “He just has not figured out all the ins and outs of being a viscount and whatever else it is that he has on the go.” She gave Harriet a questioning look.

“I cannot say,” Harriet whispered. Her brother had not been pleased to discover how much she knew about the operations he directed from his study at Lillesley House, and she was not about to give him another reason to refuse her wish to be Mrs. Richard Fitzwilliam.

“But do you know?”

“Mostly.” There were still some questions she had not uncovered.

Her sister crossed the room and peeked out the door before turning back to Harriet. “Did Matthew do the same things?”

Harriet shrugged. That was still one of her unanswered questions. “I wish I knew.”

“I still cannot believe it was an accident that took him from us.”

And there was another question without an answer. “Nor can I.”

“Even my dear Julius wonders about how Matthew came to be in that part of town, and you know that my husband is only half as curious as either you or I ever are.”

According to what she and Samantha had all be told, a paving stone that was both loose and wet had caused their sure-footed brother to stumble and die from a head injury before anyone found him. It was a plausible cause of death if one did not think about things too much, but if one did think about things too much, as Harriet always did, then, it would have been a more believable tale had Matthew not been found without a pound on his person and his watch chain empty.

He never went anywhere without a bit of cash and his pocket watch. Someone had most certainly seen him before he was officially discovered, and therefore, a robbery gone wrong would have been a better explanation. However, that possibility had never been put forward. Not even once. It was rather strange that it had not been. Who found a dead man without his money and watch and did not even hint at a possible robbery?

To her, there seemed to be only one reason for the lack of theft as a theory for Matthew’s death. That watch needed to be found and would never be if it was known that people were looking for it. For that reason, Harriet look for it whenever she could find an excuse to enter a shop that might do trade in articles gained through less than proper channels.

Not all of them looked as if they were selling ill-gotten wares. Many such shops carried all the standard baubles a lady such as herself or a gentleman of high standing might wish to procure. No one would suspect that they were anything but proper purveyors of goods.

However, she had heard a conversation here and there about special items kept in back rooms and particular cupboards whispered about by shop owner to interested patron. She was likely not supposed to have heard those discussions, but then, all the truly interesting and oddly useful information was obtained by pretending to do one thing while actually listening to what was not supposed to be heard by her.