Curse of the Kingsmans

By Ethan Somerville and Emma Daniels

Eighteen year old Beth Darney is spending her first season in London. She wants to see the sights of the great city, but her parents hope she will ensnare a rich nobleman for a husband.

On an outing to Newgate market with her cousins, she becomes separated from them and is lured into an alley by a gang of ruffians. She is saved by a tall, gallant stranger who escorts her safely home. Handsome, heroic and aristocratic, Henry Kingsman seems the ideal match for her.

But then she learns that Henry is in fact the Fourth Earl of Berwick, a notorious rake from a dark and dissolute family. He is rumoured to deal with smugglers, and his ancestry riddled with incest, insanity and murder. Beth’s father forbids her from seeing him again.

However, Beth refuses to believe that Henry is as bad as his forebears, and starts seeing him in secret. When her father finds out he gives her such a beating, that she feels her only choice is to elope with Henry to his forbidding castle in Northumberland – the same bleak fortress where his family committed their loathsome deeds...

Also available:
Curse of the Kingsmans 2: The Devil's Diary - a far darker, more erotic tale about pirates.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Storm Publishing
• Release date: Aug 23, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476022239

Ethan Somerville

Ethan Somerville is a prolific Australian author with over 20 books published, and many more to come. These novels cover many different genres, including romance, historical, children's and young adult fiction. However Ethan's favourite genres have always been science fiction and fantasy. Ethan has also collaborated with other Australian authors and artists, including Max Kenny, Emma Daniels, Anthony Newton, Colin Forest, Tanya Nicholls and Carter Rydyr.

Book preview

Curse of the Kingsmans

By

Ethan Somerville

And

Emma Daniels

* * * *

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Storm Publishing on Smashwords

Curse of the Kingsmans

Copyright 2010/2019 by Ethan Somerville and Emma Daniels

www.stormpublishing.net

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

* * * *

Chapter 1

We’re here!

Her mother’s excited voice startled eighteen year old Beth Darney awake. She prised open her eyes to see her mother thrust aside a brocade curtain and peer out of the coach.

London? Slowly Beth straightened in her seat, rubbing her eyes. Even half-asleep she was beautiful. She had a heart-shaped face, the pale skin beloved of aristocrats, sea-coloured eyes with long lashes, full red lips and a delicate upturned nose. She wore a string of pearls around her slender neck and wild masses of russet-coloured curls tumbled over her shoulders, at the moment in considerable disarray. Already?

You have been asleep for nigh on four hours, my dear, her mother answered with a smile. Beth had inherited her beauty from her mother. Mrs Catherine Darney was also a tall, willowy woman with curly, reddish-brown hair that fell to her waist when unbound. But unlike Beth, who favoured the heart-shaped hair-styles and low-cut dresses currently in fashion, the elegant Catherine usually kept her head and shoulders concealed beneath a conservative scarf. At thirty-seven she considered herself too old for such frivolity.

My, how the city has changed, Beth’s father mused, gazing out of his window as they rattled through Aldgate. Even during this past year.

John Darney, a short, corpulent man in his forties, worked for the East India Company and journeyed to London each summer to see how trade was progressing. Usually he came alone, but this time he’d decided to bring his wife and two children. Catherine hadn’t been since her twentieth year, sixteen year old Gregory was mature enough to start learning the business - and Beth, finally of age, was eligible for marriage to a suitable gentleman. John intended to have her presented at Court in the hope she would appeal to one of the rich dandies there. She remembered him telling her with a suggestive smile; Why, even King Charlie might take a fancy to you!

But Beth didn’t want to attract the attention of wealthy fops or even the Merry Monarch. She didn’t want to get married at all. She considered most modern men selfish and lecherous, entertaining scores of mistresses behind their unsuspecting wives’ backs. The thought of being wed to one sent her blood running cold.

Beth’s negative view did not come merely from idle gossip, but very real experience.

Three years earlier she had been walking in the woods near her home, like she had many times before. All the locals knew her and usually called cheerful greetings as she passed. She had been through these parts so many times before she could have walked the paths blindfolded. But this time, while stopping to pick some flowers for the dining table, she heard a rustling sound from some nearby bushes. As she straightened, thinking she’d surprised a deer, a strange young man stepped from the undergrowth. She had never seen him before. He was ragged and unkempt with wild eyes and long, straggly hair. He grinned at her in a most unnerving way.

Come ‘ere, me pretty fawn! He leered and beckoned with a dirty finger.

Beth immediately assumed he wanted to steal her pearl necklace and earrings. She dropped her basket of flowers, hitched up her skirts and ran for her life. To her horror the man swore and bolted after her. His fingers caught the back of her dress. Beth shrieked and flung herself forward. The lacy over-cloth tore and she darted forward, continuing her desperate flight into the forest. She heard the man cursing as he followed, crashing through the undergrowth after her.

But since she was tall and long-legged, and knew the forest so well she was able to duck and weave and dart down narrow deer trails only she could see. He was persistent but she eventually managed to lose him.

Only later, within the safety of her home, did she realise that he hadn’t wanted her jewels at all, but something far more precious.

After that Beth never ventured into the woods alone again, and developed a strong mistrust of all strange men.

Beth had never been to a city before. The largest town she had visited was Colchester, an ancient establishment a few miles from her local village of Lavenham. She remembered an impressive town of tall, half-timbered houses and narrow, cobbled streets - nothing like the amazing vista now passing by outside her window.

Brick houses, many only half-completed, stretched in all directions as far as she could see. Spires and taller buildings rose in the distance, but were partially hidden within a haze of wood smoke. Workers crawled over the unfinished constructions like flies, and the sound of their shouts and hammering reached Beth’s ears.

The fire was four whole years ago, Gregory mused, Yet barely half of these buildings are complete! In a vain attempt to make themselves look taller, the male Darneys wore high heels and tall black wigs. Beth thought they looked ridiculous in the ungainly shoes and oversized perukes, but kept her opinion to herself. Despite his unassuming appearance her father could be quite arrogant and bad-tempered, and young Gregory was showing signs of having inherited these unfortunate traits.

After the fire, John began in his best story-telling tone, ‘twas almost impossible to know where houses had stood and streets had lain. The city appeared as an ocean of rubble. And some of it was still smouldering in March the following year.

Od’s Fish, Gregory gasped. Still burning for so long?

Aye. Water pipes and sewers had been cut. Wharves, markets, warehouses and counting-houses had all been burnt to the ground. Trade came to a standstill. Even now things are still far from normal.

Gregory nodded. Despite his father’s pompous manner, he certainly knew how to tell a story. He’d led an eventful life and was full of interesting tales. I never realised things were so bad.

The fire might have been contained if people had tried to put it out at the start, John continued, but of course they thought it a wee blaze of little consequence! He launched into a description of how the fire had begun; condemning the poor baker he believed had purposefully lit it. Beth switched off as she had heard this particular story before, and returned to her examination of the strange new world outside.

From her lofty window she could see all kinds of people on the street below. Due to the crowds the coach could only crawl at a snail’s pace, and their harried driver cursed under his breath. But Beth didn’t care about the vehicle’s slowness. She wanted to take everything in.

She could see people from all walks of life; liveried chairmen bearing rich ladies and gentlemen hurried their heavy sedan chairs through crowds of tradesmen, flower-girls, milkmaids and orange-sellers. Crippled beggars hunched in ragged huddles on corners, clutching wooden bowls in thin, claw-like hands. Their dirty faces and hollow eyes wrenched at Beth’s heart. She had never seen such pathetic people, and wondered why no-one was helping them. As she watched, a couple of children, also ragged and underfed, attacked a wizened old woman, knocking her onto the cobbles and making off with her wooden bowl. She slurred abuse after them, too weak to pursue.

Those poor people! Beth turned to her mother in distress. Why are they so ill-treated?

It was John who answered. Few of those paupers are as infirm as they make themselves out to be. Most are lazy rascals with no desire to work. They deserve all they get.

He’s right, Catherine agreed softly.

Beth turned back to her window to hide the tears stinging her eyes. Even though she didn’t really believe her father, she dared not contradict him. He hated that. Besides, he had seen far more of the wicked world than her, and she had no right to argue. However, he did seem overly heartless when it came to the plight of the poor, as though he cared nothing for them. Sometimes all he seemed concerned about was increasing his fortune and maybe one day acquiring a noble title from the King.

But then Beth chided herself for thinking ill of him. Despite his severity he was faithful to his wife, and firm but fair with his two children. As they passed landmarks he remembered, he pointed them out to his family. Although he didn’t shed his lecturing tone, his voice did quiver slightly from suppressed excitement. Obviously he wanted his family to love London as much as he did.

And there used to stand Old St Paul’s. John gestured towards a cleared site.

"I remember St Paul’s! Catherine exclaimed suddenly. ‘Twas like a giant market place!"

John smiled in approval. Yes – it certainly was. He paused. A new St Paul’s will stand there ... someday soon. He didn’t sound very confident as building on the new church still had not begun. We are passing through Ludgate now - out of the old city. Up ahead is Whitefriars - a filthy, disreputable hive of bordellos and gaming-houses.

Everyone looked out to see a noisy little suburb of narrow, winding streets and ramshackle brick houses - all of which had been hastily thrown up in the wake of the fire. As the coach passed over the Fleet Ditch, Beth saw more workmen labouring on the canal’s sides.

They are cleaning the ditch and widening it, John explained. Ere the fire ‘twas a stinking bog clogged with refuse from dyers, tanners, butchers and builders. Those men are fashioning it into a navigable river up which boats will be able to travel. Although, no doubt only a few years from now, ‘twill be a festering sewer once more, he added, more to himself than Beth.

Fleet Street bustled with market activity. It was lined with shops and street stalls selling produce ranging from brightly-coloured cloth to live chickens. Brewers and fruit peddlers hurried past with brimming pushcarts and drays. Dung merchants followed, their wagons haloed with flies. Shoppers had to run for cover or get bowled over. The smell was truly unique, and the numerous cries of the peddlers and tradesmen were nearly deafening.

Four pair for a shilling ‘olland socks!

Hot baked Warden pears an’ pippins!

Flag-brooms! Sweep sweep!

Dumplings, dumplings! Diddle, diddle dumplings ho!

Fresh China oranges!

Fresh fish!

Maids skipped along carrying baskets of fruit and flowers, and gallants swaggered up to them, more interested in them than their wares. Acrobats and bards entertained other crowds. Beth was stunned to see a muscular young man dancing on a rope suspended high above the street.

Never stop to watch those performers, John warned in a low voice.

Why? Beth, Catherine and Gregory asked at once.

While one is besotted by their acrobatic displays, their friends cut purses and pick pockets, John explained. I should know. I had my own pockets emptied more than once by such wicked thieves.

But they are so good! Beth exclaimed.

If they were bad, would you watch them so intensely?

I ... do not believe so. Beth gazed back out to see old patched bawds flirting openly with men by winking, making lewd comments and lifting their skirts. Skinny, filthy children darted past, agile as mice, and more ragged, emaciated beggars squatted in doorways.

Everything enthralled her; the stalls, the people, the large, smoky windows of the many shops lining the street. There were bolts of elaborate silks in the draper’s, racks of beautiful shoes in the cobbler’s, a multitude of bottles in the vintner’s, and so, so many mysterious confectioneries in the sweet-maker’s. And above illegally hung iron signs creaked and waved, displaying the symbols of guilds and the names of various ale and dicing-houses.

‘Tis beautiful, she breathed.

We are approaching the Temple Bar now, John announced. Everyone looked up to see a tall archway set with statues of old kings and queens. Iron spikes emerged from the top.

What are they for? Gregory pointed them out.

The severed heads of traitors, John answered cheerfully.

Beth gasped as her mother paled and clapped a hand to her chest.

John laughed, displaying a rare humour. I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you.

I hope I get to see a head! Gregory cried.

Gregory! Catherine reproved, but the sixteen year old simply giggled.

Did you know that there are paupers around with spyglasses, who sell the use of these devices to individuals desiring to see the rotting heads in more detail?

Oh John, stop it! Catherine cried. "I do not want to hear any more!"

As evening approached the crowds began to ease. Much to John’s relief, the coach picked up speed along the Strand. Richard and Georgina’s house is not far now, he informed his family.

Richard Darney was John’s older brother. Unlike John he had elected to stay in London after his marriage to Kent-born Georgina Whitefield, and now owned a new house on Jermyn Street in St James. Beth had only met them and their three spoiled daughters a couple of times, more than enough for her. They were all far too concerned with keeping up with the nobles they envied.

The three storey dwelling they arrived at was beautifully decorated and kept, but almost comically small and quaint compared to the bigger houses surrounding it. Unfortunately Richard and Georgina didn’t see anything humorous about their situation. They wanted nothing more than to see their three ungainly daughters married off to wealthy lords.

The exhausted coach driver stopped the vehicle at the front entrance and jumped down to open the doors for his passengers. As he was helping Beth down, Richard, Georgina and the three girls hurried out to greet them. A great display of affection and tears ensued, most of it for the benefit of the neighbours. Still, Beth was happy to finally be out of that cramped carriage. Because of recent rains the journey to London had taken two long, wearying days. She was tired, sore and very hungry.

You will be sleeping with Annabel, Georgina told Beth once they were inside. She turned to her oldest daughter; Annabel darling - show Beth to your room. But do not be long - dinner is almost ready.

Yes Mother, Annabel replied cheerfully.

Short, plump Georgina liked her food. Her husband was taller and more easy-going than his younger brother and prone to drinking. Their three girls - Annabel, Sarah and Lucy - had inherited their mother’s unfortunate eating habits. As nineteen year old Annabel led Beth upstairs to her top floor room it was all Beth could do to keep her giggles bottled; her cousin’s rump was so large it filled the stairwell.

I am betrothed to be married next year, Annabel announced as she showed Beth into her bed-chamber, a sumptuous, but cluttered room filled with childhood toys, elaborately carved wardrobes and two four-poster beds. His name is Sir Peter Warburton.

Beth was in no mood to hear about Annabel’s husband-to-be and quickly changed the subject. Which bed is mine?

Oh - you may have the one by the window, Annabel pointed a plump, red-nailed finger. So do you have a beau?

Beth sighed as she sat down on her bed, sinking several inches into the overly soft mattress. No.

Sir Peter is coming over for dinner tonight. He is the most wonderful man. Annabel clasped her plump hands in front of her billowing bosom and her little blue eyes grew misty. Oh Beth - ‘tis such a shame no man is interested in you.

No it isn’t, Beth answered truthfully as she turned to look out the window. The view was excellent; she could look down on Jermyn Street and watch the splendid coaches rattle past. I have absolutely no wish to marry.

Annabel gaped. What? You cannot be serious!

What is so desirable about being wed in this day and age? Beth asked in exasperation. I cannot think of a single married man who does not keep at least one mistress! Look at our king! She started counting the Merry Monarch’s current mistresses off on her fingers. Madam Carwell, Moll Davies, Nelly Gwynne, the Castlemaine-

Well, Sir Peter will not keep any mistresses! Annabel interrupted, thrusting her plump fists into her ample hips. He is not that kind of man!

If you say so, Beth conceded, not wanting to get into an argument this early into her visit.

Anyway, I heard that King Charles has tired of the Countess Castlemaine. She has latched onto the Earl of Berwick, and it seems that lecherous rake cannot get enough of her! She laughed. Beth was aghast to hear her talking so candidly about a member of the nobility - and an earl at that.

Earl of Berwick? she queried instead. Who might he be then?

"Oh Beth - do you not know anything?" Annabel cried as she started towards the door and motioned for Beth to follow. He is only one of the richest men in all of England!

I do not keep up with the nobility much myself.

It shows. Now let us hurry down to dinner. I want you to meet Sir Peter. You will love him! He is absolutely enchanting!

As Beth followed Annabel down the hall to the dining room, a blonde servant-girl armed with a broom chased a pair of spaniel puppies out of the dining-room. They seemed to think it a wonderful game, and frolicked yapping around the maid’s legs.

Little monsters, the girl growled. She looked up at Beth and smiled wanly. She was an attractive young woman with curly fair hair and even white teeth. They made a right ‘orrid mess on the floor in there!

Beth returned her smile, liking this friendly servant already.

That is enough, Sally, now back your duties, Annabel ordered imperiously as she grabbed Beth by an arm and pulled her into the dining room. The walls of this large, immaculate chamber were hung with colourful tapestries. Several tall windows overlooked Jermyn Street and candles flickered merrily in an ornate chandelier high above their heads. A long wooden table set with three silver candelabras dominated the floor. More servants bustled around it, cleaning up the dogs’ puddles and setting places as the Darneys began taking their seats.

Do not let the soup get cold this time, Annie, Beth heard Georgina chide a thin, nervous-looking maid in a dirty apron. Your repeated lack of attention to these details is becoming very tiresome.

A handsome butler entered the room a few minutes later and announced; Ladies and gentlemen - Sir Peter Warburton.

Beth looked up as the young knight walked in. He was very good-looking but extremely overdressed. His fawn-coloured coat was festooned with far more ribbons than necessary and his blonde wig so voluminous his haughty face almost disappeared inside it.

Welcome, Sir Peter, Richard walked over to the young man, our guests are my brother John, his wife Catherine, and their children, Gregory and Beth.

Everyone got up to offer their greetings.

Sir Peter looked lethargic as he shook hands with John and Gregory, but when he turned to bow to the two women he paused, his bored look vanishing in an instant. He pecked Catherine’s hand then quickly faced Beth. The young woman’s cheeks reddened as his gaze raked her from head to toe, appraising her like she was a prize he’d just won at a fair. He took her hand and pressed his warm, moist lips to it.

Enchanted, he breathed against her skin. A horrified shiver pulsed through her. She tried to pull her hand