The Redemption of Sir Edward Denham - A Return to Sanditon Novella

Five

London, England

Clara Brereton sat in front of her dressing table and inspected the latest bruise to adorn her eye. Ugly and blackened, it would take several days before her powders would be sufficient to disguise the mark. Her livelihood was suffering from her unwillingness to comply with the demands of her protector - former protector, she corrected. The man was a brute. Honour was in short supply within her circles. The life of a courtesan was mercurial at best. She had seven days to vacate this townhouse and all of the comforts it provided, without even a congé for her troubles, and she had nowhere else to go. Nausea swirled in her stomach at the thought of having to begin again. A week would be enough to catch another's eye, she was sure, but the idea was simply unpalatable. They say that a courtesan knows when it is time to leave the profession, generally before looks fade and coin runs dry. The was small comfort in the fact that at eight and twenty she was still considered a beauty. If she could not face the intimacies that were required of her, she was as good as done for anyway. It was odd to consider that only a few months ago she had been at the top of her game and perfectly content, if not happy, with her lot in life. She was a realist and understood that for her, things could be no better. However, during the summer, a chance encounter with her past had shaken her to her very core.

Staring into her looking glass, she saw not her refection but the beaches and dunes of Sanditon. The place of her original downfall, and this summer, the place of her epiphany. A picture of Edward came to mind; tall and handsome with blonde artfully mussed blonde hair. La! She thought, he tried so hard to give the impression of a rake and scoundrel, but she knew; poor Edward was nowt but a lost boy searching for adoration. Had they not been adversaries, she would have told him he'd won her heart long ago. She shook her head to clear the image. Nostalgia was for fools.

No, the epiphany had been her return to Sanditon to aid a young lady she had known nothing of. Clara had become entangled with a beast of a man, Viscount Richard Foster. She had discovered that his past had been littered with violence and abuse towards women, including the possible murder of a girl in his employ. Clara had gambled with the knowledge and threatened him with discovery unless he paid her handsomely to remain silent. Her safety had been somewhat assured as she had made it quite clear that a letter had been left with her solicitor detailing all she knew. In reality, of course, there was no solicitor, but Clara needed funds, although not for herself, and he needed her silence. It was a mutually rewarding endeavour until she had heard of his threats towards his cousin, Rose, now Countess Frogmore. Lord Henry Babington, an old acquaintance and perversely, the husband of Edward's stepsister Esther, had made contact with her and asked for her cooperation. They had discovered her blackmail and asked for her aid to hold him to account. The temptation to rid the world of the parasite was too tempting to refuse. The housemaid, of whom he had most recently impregnated, had gained financial security for herself and her child, thanks to the monies she had extorted. The time had been right to bring the ordeal to an end.

What she had not expected was the offer she received upon agreeing to help. Violet; pain lanced her chest as she thought of her beloved child. Five years old and as beautiful as an angel. After so many years, Clara had given up hope of acknowledgement from her child's paternal family. Her child was a by-blow after all. Edward knew, of course, but his situation was almost as dire as her own, and he was in no position to help. Babington and Esther had offered to provide a home for her daughter amongst their own family, and far away from her scandalous mother. It was the life she would have chosen for herself, and it was the last kindness she could give her child. To save her daughter, and to save other women from ruin and disgrace, she had been complicit in the eventual incarceration of Foster. He had left these shores with little hope of return. However, her actions had been selfless for the first time in her life, and it had been a revelation. She found that she liked helping others, and the novel feeling of being worthy of her place in this world had not left her. No more could she gratify the needs of adulterous and greedy men; creatures so complacent about vice and dishonour that they made a mockery of their noble titles. The downside, of course, being that a mistress who refuses to entertain the urges of the man who keeps her does not stay a mistress for long. Clara chuckled to herself. Conscience was going to make a pauper out of her.

A knock sounded at her bedchamber door, and she bid the maid enter. A note had arrived, and Clara considered it with suspicion. It was franked with the crest she recognised. How odd that she had only moments ago been thinking of the writer. Slicing the letter open to reveal a delicate feminine hand, she began to read.

Dear Miss Brereton

Forgive the liberties I take in writing to you without the benefit of an introduction. However, I feel that everything that you have done to aid me in the past is sufficient excuse for not adhering to the usual protocols.

You will, I am sure, remember my sister Louisa Downing. It is upon her bidding that I write to you to request your presence at the happy occasion of her nuptials. The event has been unavoidably postponed twice and is finally set for Thursday next. Louisa is to be joined in matrimony to Jack Hargreaves, Marquess of Berwick and we are all overjoyed by the match. The gathering will be small, with close family and friends only. It would be our pleasure to open our home to you here at Wentworth for the duration of the festivities.

I am also charged with informing you that a mutual friend will be in attendance and intends to bring her entire family for an extended stay. Lady Babington wishes me to convey her wish that you may join the party as the spirits of a family member would be much improved by the renewal of your acquaintance.

I sincerely hope that you will be able to attend.

With kindest regards

Rose, Countess Frogmore

Wentworth, Berkshire