Page 56 of The Virgin in the Rake's Bed
But it was evident to Catherine that Ian’s own mother was quite different. She had had an affair – a string of affairs – and Rickard’s claim that Ian was illegitimate weighed heavily on them both as they traveled south. The claim made no difference to Catherine’s feelings for Ian – she would love him if he were a pauper and with nothing – but illegitimacy would mean grave consequences for Ian, and for their future, too, and thus they had little choice but to question the one person who could tell them the truth.
“It must be eight years since last I traveled this road,” Ian said, peering out of the carriage window.
Their journey had brought them deep into the Hampshire countryside and now they were driving along a straight, narrow lane edged with tall larch trees on either side, approaching a grand house set in parklands on the bend of a river. The journey south had been uneventful, and there had been no sign of Rickard in pursuit, though they had been careful to take a roundabout route after leaving Walter Perkins and the mail coach at Lancaster.
“And this is where you lived as a child?” Catherine asked, looking with interest out of the window.
All of this was new to her, for she had barely left London before, and knew little of the provinces.
“Ashcourt Park, my mother’s home, though my father – the man I call my father – preferred the town,” Ian replied.
His expression was troubled, and it seemed that being here was rousing memories he would rather forget. Catherine felt sorry for him and wished there were some way of relieving his troubles. She was angry with her brother and father at their insistence on her marriage to the Earl of Westwood. She loved Ian, and nothing they could say or do would persuade her otherwise. She wanted only for them to be left alone in peace, and to enjoy the marriage which was legally and rightly theirs.
“Did they ever get on?” she asked, and Ian shook his head.
“A man is supposed to have mistresses, his wife is supposed to accept it, and we are told that is the order of things, though I think it quite detestable myself. But for it to be the opposite, well… that is a scandal. My father knew, of course, and it broke him, for his love for my mother was absolute. I cannot forgive her for what she did to him, for the pain she caused him,” he said, and Catherine reached out and took his hand.
“You must not worry, it will all come well in the end. We are married, and my fidelity to you is absolute, as I know is yours to me,” she said, and he nodded.
“You have it entirely, dearest Catherine. If it were not for you, my burdens would be far greater alone,” he replied.
“If it were not for me, there would be no burden,” she said, feeling suddenly terribly guilty for bringing this situation on them both. But Ian shook his head and fixed her with a stern expression.
“One person can fall in love, and if that love is not reciprocated, then there will be pain. But when two fall in love they can do nothing to prevent it, for it is meant to be. That is the way for us, and how thankful I am it is so. I love you, Catherine, and we will face whatever difficulties we must face together, for that is surely the only way,” he said, and she smiled.
“And that is just how I feel, too,” she replied, the gates of Ashcourt Park now coming into view.
The house was grand, though hidden away, as though the occupant had somewhat retreated from the world. A high wall surrounded the forecourt, and the house was covered over in wisteria in the first flush of early bloom. Steps led up to a colonnaded entrance, and the carriage pulled up in front, with Catherine eager to disembark after their long journey from the inn they had stayed at the night before.
There was no sign of anyone about, and Ian opened the carriage door and helped Catherine down. The scent of roses was in the air, and Ian led her up the steps to the main door, but across the forecourt toward the gardens. These were laid out in a most spectacular fashion, and it seemed that whilst Ian’s mother may not have cared much for her son or her husband, she did care for her roses.
“It is quite beautiful here,” Catherine remarked, gazing around her.
Lawns surrounded the house on three sides, with magnificent beds of flowers bordering them, the walls of the garden allowing for trailing plants to cover them. There were hothouses and lines of vegetables, neatly growing in rows. Everything was ordered and in its place – perhaps an antidote to Ian’s mother’s chaotic life.
“My mother always took good care of her garden, if not for those she should have done,” Ian remarked.
“I do not even know her name,” Catherine replied, realizing just how little she knew of the woman who had brought her husband into the world.
“Roberta Bennett, Dowager Baroness of Westwick. A grand title for a woman of no deserve,” he said, shaking his head.
“But she brought you into the world, Ian. There must be some bond between you. I think of my own father, and as much as I detest his actions, I cannot deny my parentage,” she replied.
He sighed and shook his head, gazing around the garden before turning to take her hand in his. “Forgive me, but I find all this terribly difficult. There are so many memories here, and most of them are bad,” he said, and she nodded.
“I understand. But you must not let these things trouble you. We will find the truth together, and we will surely be stronger for it,” she replied.
“How glad I am to have you, Catherine. Truly I am the richest of men,” he replied, just as footsteps came hurrying toward them.
“Your Lordship…” a man dressed in frock coat and tails exclaimed.
He was balding, and had the air of a servant, a deep bow confirming Catherine’s observation. “Ah, Redfield, is my mother at home?” Ian asked, and the servant nodded.
“She is, my Lord, but we are not expecting you… she is not expecting you,” he said, looking nervous.
“And that is the best way, Redfield. I have come to speak with my mother, and I would be grateful if you would inform her of my presence,” Ian replied.
“Certainly, my Lord. Will you wait inside? Your mother is taking tea by the boating lake. I will inform her you are here,” the servant said, and he hurried off across the lawn, glancing nervously back in their direction.
