Page 33 of What the Lady Wants
‘I wanted to tell you, what we were doing and why, but I didn’t want to betray her trust in me. It seems almost laughable now, and after all, there’s no point explaining everything now. Yes, it’s rather unfortunate in the circumstances,’ he said with a bleak smile and considerable understatement. ‘I’ll marry her, of course. But I can’t be with her just now. It’s not that I’m angry – it’s not her fault, or if it is it’s as much mine too. But…’ He broke off, fearing that he was perilously close to tears.
His cousin said rather grimly, ‘I confess I didn’t think she was the sort of woman to have a clandestine affair – nor you the sort of fellow, for that matter. But it’s not the first time things have gone on under my nose and I ignorant as a schoolboy.’
‘It wasn’t like that, Hal. Please don’t judge her when you don’t know all. It made sense to her, my poor darling, what she was doing, and I could see it too, in a way. She’s had a dreadful time of it, and I’d explain to you now if I could bear it. But I can’t.’
Hal took him by the shoulders and shook him very gently. ‘You really are in the devil of a fix. And even if I don’t pretend to understand, I can help, actually. I can’t do anything about your cursed situation, but I can go and fetch your licence for you.’
‘There’s no need…’
‘I think there is. There’s no doubt the clerks will see me quicker than they’d see you – privilege of rank, and we might as well take advantage of it. There’ll be no trouble about getting the thing, you’re both of age and it’s all above board as far as they’ll know. But to be frank with you, old fellow, looking at you, I’m not sure you’re in a fit state to make it to London by yourself, and if you go to Doctors’ Commons and present them with the face you’re wearing at the moment, they’ll smell some sort of rat and put you through stiff questions, which you don’t seem to me to be in the right frame of mind to answer. Let me do this for you, Leo. It’s the only thing in the world that I can do to aid you, and I want to.’
‘Thank you,’ he said gruffly. ‘I shouldn’t accept, but I will. Can you do something else for me? Spin some tale that will satisfy Cassandra and my mother and all the rest of them, something to do with a small emergency at Winter Manor, nothing too serious. Tell her, Isabella, that I’m going home to set things in motion, but that I’ll be back as soon as everything has been arranged. I should tell my mother about my plans myself, but I can’t face it, not just yet. When you get back, send for me, and I’ll come. And we can tell everyone some damned romantic lie and be married.’
‘You’ll sort it out, you know. Cassandra and I did, Georgie and Gabriel did. We’ve had our bleak times, times when everything felt completely desperate. But we got through it.’
Leo was too bone-tired to argue. ‘I hope you’re right. I can’t talk about it any more now. I’ll pack, and go.’ He made his wayout of the room but turned in the doorway and said, ‘Thank you. I can’t tell you how much… But I do appreciate it, Hal.’
Hal waved a hand. ‘No need for that. Be off with you. Take care. Drive my curricle, and Jem can bring it back.’
Leo threw his belongings into his bags all anyhow, and half an hour later he was tooling Hal’s two-wheeler down the Castle’s carriage drive with the imposing figure of Jem Oldcastle at his side. Jem was Hal’s head groom and a great deal more than that, and besides was married to Cassandra’s maid Kitty, who also happened to be Hal’s old nurse. They’d known each other Leo’s whole life, and at first he’d feared that Jem might make some comment on his sudden departure, or on his demeanour, which he was painfully aware was very far from normal, but his companion was blessedly silent for the whole of the short journey, letting him concentrate on handling the fresh pair of horses, and if he had any thoughts he kept them to himself on this occasion. ‘Do you wish for me to bide here a while, Cap’n, or shall I take the greys straight back?’ he asked when they reached Winter Manor and drew up outside the porch. ‘His Lordship said I should take my orders from you.’
‘Thank you, Jem, you can take them home. My cousin’s going up to London tomorrow, so better you get back in good time in case he needs you.’
Jem made a noise that signified agreement, or at least understanding, and if it signified anything else besides Leo chose to ignore it. He jumped down, and Jem took his place. The elderly butler Lewis came out with the young footman Philip to take down Leo’s bags, and a moment later the curricle was gone.
Perhaps there would be some comfort in being home, Leo thought as he made his way inside the panelled entrance hall, listening with half an ear to Lewis’s talk of the doings of the house and estate. It didn’t seem so at the moment, but perhaps being here with a little space and time to be alone and reflectwould help. Although he’d have to tell everyone that he was soon to be married, and receive their congratulations, and that would be hard. But not yet, not today. His mother didn’t know yet, and until she did he couldn’t tell anyone else, it wouldn’t be fair.
There were letters to deal with, waiting for him on his desk, though not many. Anything that looked urgent would have been sent on to the Castle. He’d been riding over here for a couple of hours every few days or so, though probably not as often as he should have in his obsession with Isabella, but it was winter now, and little was happening on the land. He didn’t feel like reading business letters, or any kind of letters, but he wasn’t sure what he did feel like doing. Nothing sensible. He sat in the comfortable room surrounded by his possessions and frowned at the lovingly detailed wooden model of his last ship, the frigateParis, but he wasn’t seeing it. He was imagining rushing back to her, and telling her he’d been foolish, and of course they’d live as man and wife, of course he’d take whatever she would give him. Even now he could do it. But it would be a mistake. He knew it would. He sighed, pulling the small pile of correspondence toward him and attempting to lose himself in it. At least here he could be miserable in peace.
37
Isabella didn’t realise that Captain Winterton had left the Castle until dinnertime. He didn’t appear at nuncheon, but that hardly surprised her. She was merely glad not to be obliged to face him over that meal, after the raw emotion of their interview. It had been bad enough before – it would be so much worse now. It wasn’t as though she could blame him for his reaction, even though she hadn’t expected it. She’d been selfish, she realised. Horribly selfish. She hadn’t known he loved her until it was far too late – he’d lied to her about that, but she could understand why. He had been protecting himself, and she of all people could sympathise with the need for that. But there was no denying that her plan, which had seemed so clever and sophisticated when she first thought of it, had led inexorably to this catalogue of disasters.
They had no choice but to marry – well, he had a choice, he could repudiate her, turn his back and say that her child was nothing to do with him and she must deal with the consequences of her actions as she saw fit. She realised now the position she had so naively put herself in: not only had she no recourse to law to seek her unborn child’s rights, unless she wished to see herreputation and that of her family torn to shreds and whispered over in every tavern in England and beyond; she had also laid herself open to blackmail for the rest of her life. But she knew Leo well enough to be sure that he’d never do anything of the kind. He was far too good, angry and hurt as he was. He’d marry her, whatever else happened.
He hadn’t uttered one word of blame, either, and she could imagine many other men saying it was all her fault. That she’d been criminally irresponsible to believe on what seemed now like flimsy evidence that she was barren, and to convince him of it besides. (Her own father was a good man and a loving husband, but her mother still often found herself held responsible for things large and small that she’d been completely unaware of until that moment.) After all, itwasher fault, all this – not the pregnancy, but the circumstances in which it had occurred. She had created them, with what she could not help but see now as breath-taking carelessness.
She was trying not to think about the life that lay ahead of her. She shouldn’t object to it and wasn’t sure why it filled her with unease, with a cold sort of dread. If she had shared her new secrets with Lady Carston – though she had not the least desire to do so – Isabella was sure that Jane would have congratulated her with ruthless practicality on how well things had worked out. She’d wanted sexual experiences for her own reasons – well, she’d got them. She’d wanted a child and thought it impossible – now she had the chance to be a mother, against all hope and against all the odds. How lucky her choice had been! The Captain would marry her, give her the protection of his name, and make no further demands on her. If the child in her belly proved to be a girl, and Captain Winterton wanted a son, as well he might, that too could be arranged in the fullness of time, if she agreed to it, and why would she not? She could imagine Lady Carston saying drily that the creation of this child appeared tohave been at once distinctly agreeable and alarmingly easy for both parties – what could possibly prevent them from doing the same again? She’d made it very clear that she hadn’t wanted a husband to replace Ash, a man to share every aspect of her life with – and if Leo could not bear to contemplate an ordinary sort of a marriage for excellent reasons of his own, well, why should she care? She could go back to Yorkshire, live with her parents as she had always intended, with the welcome addition of a child. A legitimate child, with a father and a secure future. There might be gossip about the absence of her husband, but Lady Carston – in exactly the same case herself – would tell her robustly to face it down. Many couples lived apart, for reasons that should be nobody’s business but their own.
Why, then, was the idea not more attractive to her? She should be pleased, surely. Sorry she had hurt Leo, who did not deserve it, of course, but otherwise happy on her own account. There were no difficulties in her path now that she could not overcome. Why was she not soberly delighted? Because undeniably she wasn’t.
Perhaps it was the shock – of the unexpected discovery of her condition, and of Leo’s reaction to it. It must be that. Time would pass, the memory of Leo’s pale, hurt face would fade, and she would gradually come to feel calmer, and look forward to the future with confidence and hope. She couldn’t seem to feel either of those pleasant emotions at the moment, but surely they would come.
She spent the day doing nothing in particular in company with the other ladies, and if any of them were aware that there had been a further and more serious estrangement between Lady Ashby and the Captain – or if they so much as suspected anything at all about the earlier falling-out – they did not show the knowledge on their faces or betray it in their words or actions. Mrs Winterton was no less friendly to her than she hadever been, though perhaps a little subdued today. The hours passed slowly.
Lord Irlam drew Isabella aside before dinner, and said, ‘I have something to tell you, ma’am.’ She looked at him in sudden alarm, but did not speak, and he went on expressionlessly, ‘My cousin Leo asked me to say that he has been obliged to return home this afternoon, but that all is in hand, and he will return in a day or so. There is no need to worry.’ His face was a mask, and the message was cryptic, but surely he must know what it signified to say that everything was in hand. The pair were as close as brothers, she had realised, and in any case, the hurried wedding would be public knowledge soon enough, so there was no reason Leo should not have told his cousin. If he had, it was plain that he had not attempted to present the engagement as very cheerful news, a matter for celebration and congratulation, which argued, she thought, that he had simply revealed the stark truth about her unfortunate condition. The Earl did not reproach her for her conduct towards his cousin, but his manner could hardly be described as warm; she supposed it was no wonder. He must think she had treated Leo terribly, even that she had deliberately trapped him, which was so far from the truth – she could have no real idea precisely how much he knew, and certainly dared not ask. She murmured her thanks, and if she had thought to ask anything more so that she might understand him better, she had no opportunity, for he bowed punctiliously and moved away directly to engage his brother in conversation. Nothing occurred in the course of dinner or afterwards to enlighten her any further, and once again she slept badly.
When Isabella left her chamber late the next morning, she found the Castle strangely deserted of its other inhabitants. Although she would not have welcomed company in her present uncertain state of mind, it was all the same disconcerting to findeveryone absent. If she had been a person who regularly gave way to wild imaginings, she might have thought that she was being shunned by her hosts and fellow guests; the idea crossed her mind, but she dismissed it as egregious folly. It must be pure coincidence, surely, that Lord Irlam had gone to London on business, his brother and friends were out shooting, Lady Carston was a little unwell – nothing serious, she was assured – and keeping to her chambers with Lady Louisa to tend to her, and Lady Irlam and Mrs Winterton had set out to visit an elderly dependant at the furthest limits of the estate. They couldn’tallbe avoiding her because they knew the truth and hated her. Impossible!
It was ridiculous to feel sorry for herself when she was perfectly comfortable; surrounded by luxury, in fact, with a well-stocked library at her disposal and well-trained servants to cater to her every whim. Isabella took up one of the novels that Lady Carston had recommended to her and which she’d missed because it had been published when she was unwell last Christmastime, and sat down to read it with determined attention. It would be a relief, if she could manage it, to lose herself in the doings of imaginary others for a little while. It was unlikely, she thought, that the dilemmas of fictional characters, however ingeniously devised by the very skilful lady author, could approach her own in intensity, or for that matter provoke her to dwelling any more than she was already on her own bizarre and unique situation. The book, if indeed she could concentrate on it, must offer an escape, which was just what she needed.
An hour or so passed, and Isabella, rather to her surprise, began to lose herself in the affairs of a wealthy young lady who was pleased to think herself a matchmaker with the right to meddle in the romantic lives of her acquaintance. She was so absorbed that when the door opened she started, and regardedthe woman who entered the room with blank surprise for a moment.
It was not the housekeeper, Mrs Allen – she’d met her on her arrival – and it was not usual for female servants to wait on residents of such a house as this in the public rooms. A maid brought her breakfast to her chamber, but the downstairs portions of the Castle were the domain of the liveried footmen and the butler. This woman, who was tall, buxom and powerfully built, was a complete stranger to her, despite her respectable dress and air of assurance.
‘I beg your pardon for disturbing you, my lady,’ she said, curtseying correctly, ‘but a message has arrived, and given the nature of it, I thought I’d better bring it to you myself rather than leave it to one of the footmen. I’m Lady Irlam’s maid, ma’am, and was nurse to His Lordship and the other children once upon a time. I’m Kitty Oldcastle.’
This was all most odd, and Isabella felt a sudden pang of foreboding. She could hear that her voice was trembling when she said, ‘I can’t imagine what message could concern me… Is it bad news?’
