Page 44 of The Marchioness of his Desire
She looked up at him in horror, taking a sharp intake of breath, the words cutting through her like a knife to butter.
“But I …” she gasped, and he rushed to her side, kneeling and taking her by the hand.
“I mean it, Rebecca. Leave him and come with me, we shall run away to Bath or Cheltenham. We can even flee the country, take the boat to Calais and cross the continent to Venice of Florence. Wherever your heart desires. Come with me, come far, far away from that man, and everything he has done to you. Leave him wallowing in the mess he has created. The countess is welcome to him,” Edward declared, and he rose to his feet, placing his arms around her and bringing his face close to hers, as though intending to kiss her.
“Edward, no, how could you even think such a thing. Let me go,” she cried, struggling from his grasp.
“Do not fight it, Rebecca. You know there is no point. He has given you nothing, and I can give you everything. Come with me now. We shall leave at once and make our way to Dover or to wherever you wish. Do not resist the longings in your heart,” he said, clutching at her hands once more.
“I have no such longings, sir, of that I can assure you,” she said, turning away.
But he only persisted further, grabbing her by the shoulder, as though he intended to take her by force.
“Think of the mistake you are making. Are you to stay here as a sad and lonely widow, even though your husband is still alive? He will do it again, Rebecca, and again and again, and you shall have no peace from his wickedness, of that I can assure you,” Edward cried, pulling at Rebecca and causing her to cry out in distress.
There was a violent gleam in his eyes, a sudden loss of temperament, as though he was taken by some madness, and Rebecca wanted only to escape from him. As he tried to grab her again, she brought the palm of her hand clean across his face, causing him to stagger back, before hurrying to the bell and ringing it vigorously to summon Mrs. Thrip.
“You will leave immediately, Mr. Johnson. I will hear no more of this. Do you hear me? No more,” she cried, and Edward held his hand to his cheek, scowling, as Mrs. Thrip came hurrying into the room.
“Is everything all right, your Ladyship?” she asked, taking in the scene before her and tutting.
“Mr. Johnson wishes to leave, Mrs. Thrip. Perhaps you would be good enough to show him to the door, and if he is not able to find his way, then perhaps the footmen will escort him,” Rebecca replied, folding her arms, and turning away from Edward, who was muttering under his breath.
“I shall go now,” he said, “but mark my words ‘your Ladyship,’ you will be sorry for this, and you will eventually realize that every word I have said is true. Then perhaps my suggestion will not seem so foolish after all. I shall be waiting, for I assure you, your husband’s fall shall be great.” With that he stormed from the room, pushing Mrs. Thrip aside as he went.
“The beast, the absolute beast. Oh, Mrs. Thrip, what have I done to deserve this?” Rebecca cried, bursting into floods of tears.
“There, there, ma’am, you must not unsettle yourself so. I shall not admit him again, and if he pushes past me like that again, he shall feel the end of my rolling pin. I do not care how high and mighty a gentleman might fancy himself. To behave in that manner toward a lady is wrong, and he should realize that,” the housekeeper said, putting her arm around Rebecca to comfort her.
At that moment, Laura appeared at the door to the drawing room. She looked frightened and hurried to Rebecca’s side, wrapping her arms around her tightly.
“I heard shouting. Why was Edward here?” she asked, looking up at Rebecca with wide eyes.
“He will not trouble us anymore. I have made it clear that he is not to return, and that we shall have nothing more to do with him.”
“Will we be sent away? Will Nicholas send us away?” Laura asked, and Rebecca shook her head.
“Heavens no, my dear sister, you must not think like that. Nicholas is a good man, he would not do that to us,” she said, but even as she spoke the words, she wondered what would become of them.
Mrs. Thrip went to make some tea, a solution, it seemed, to every one of life’s problems, whilst Rebecca sat with Laura in the drawing room, glad to have the company of her sister, the only person in all the world she could truly trust.
“Why has there been so much shouting? Have you and Nicholas had an argument?” Laura asked, and Rebecca shook her head.
“Merely a … disagreement. I do not want you to listen to gossip. You must promise me that, Laura. You are young and impressionable, and you must know that Nicholas loves us both. He just made … a mistake. That is all, and it is one he will soon set right, I am sure,” she replied, trying her hardest to believe her own words.
But try as she might, Rebecca could not rid herself of that image of the countess nor forget Edward’s words. It was with a heavy heart that she took to her chambers that night, unwilling to entertain Nicholas’ desire for companionship, her mind still filled with doubts as to the truth of his words.
* * *
The next morning brought little respite for Rebecca. She could summon little interest in anything, not her breakfast, nor the prospect of a walk in the park with Laura. She had sunk into a deep depression, not helped by the incessant company of Duchess Sinclair, who seemed determined to remind her constantly of the intrusion of the countess into their lives.
“I still cannot believe the audacity of the woman. To think that she marched in here and made such grandiose claims; it is quite astounding,” the Duchess said as she and Rebecca sat together in the morning room after breakfast.
“I do not believe her claims,” Rebecca repeated, and her mother-in-law raised her eyebrow.
“Neither do I, for that matter, but to even make them has the potential to do great damage. I have said it to you before, Nicholas is a womanizer and with that comes a reputation, one that cannot simply be cast aside. The countess, whether telling the truth or not, has taken advantage of that. She will have her way, somehow, unless it can be proved that she is lying.”
“I can hardly bear to think about it,” Rebecca said, rising from her chair and approaching the window.
