They were both staring at him, open-mouthed with surprise, now Gaston spoke angrily. ‘Of all the damned, interfering…’
‘Do come into the parlour,’ said Mattingley. He had been wondering how to break the true facts of the case to Gaston, now he saw. ‘Your sister must be exhausted from her long day.’
‘So that’s your game is it?’ But Gaston was not quite master enough of the situation to delay them in the hall with its interested audience. ‘Brother and sister, indeed!’ He took Charlotte’s hand. ‘Lady Charlotte will tell you that that is not what we intend to be at all.’
‘It’s not a question of what you intend.’ Mattingley handed Charlotte a glass of Madeira. ‘It’s a matter of fact.’
‘Fact? I do not understand you.’ But the hand Gaston reached out for his glass was shaking. Had he suddenly seen it all?
‘Yes. I’m sorry to be the one who must break it to you, Lady Charlotte.’ He turned to where she had sunk into a chair and was looking from one to the other with frightened eyes. ‘But you have just eloped with your half-brother.’
‘My what?’ She had gone very white.
‘Your father’s son. A pity the Duke did not choose to tell you sooner, but there it is. What’s done is done. We must be thinking how best to extricate you from this coil. And,’ he turned to Gaston, ‘I understand your feeling that I am a damned interfering…You did not, I believe, supply the noun. Perhaps you would like to do so now? But I thought it would be better if I broke the news to you before your father got here.’
‘I don’t believe it!’ But he did. And then, ‘My mother?’
‘The French governess in a family your father used to stay with when he was very young. She hoped for marriage. Played for it, I think, and lost. You would be wise to be warned by her unlucky example, Gaston.’
‘A governess? No!’
Mattingley shrugged. ‘By all means wait and ask your father, if you wish to. I sent a message to the Duke, of course. He should be here quite soon. I am sure he will tell you all you want to know about Mademoiselle Françoise. Her father was a blacksmith, I believe. She had come up in the world.’
‘A blacksmith?’ Charlotte emptied her glass, and spoke across Gaston to Mattingley. ‘He told me he was of royal blood. When this was over we were going to France to make ourselves known to his family.’ She looked at Gaston now with frank dislike. ‘I should have known better, just looking at you. Of course, a blacksmith. How very comic. And I nearly ruined myself for you.’ She turned appealingly to Mattingley. ‘Who else knows?’
‘Lord Ffether went home from the Park gates,’ he told her. ‘And so did Tremadoc. Only Blakeney, Caroline, Amelia and I went on to the Star and Garter and found Gaston’s note. And the girls don’t know what’s in it. Do you, for the matter of that?’
‘Why, not precisely. He said it would come better from him.’
‘So you did not know that he intended your father to catch up with you here? That he planned to make sure of the dowry before he married the bride?’
‘No!’ She looked at Gaston now with loathing. ‘That was why you insisted on stopping here. I told him it was too soon,’ she told Mattingley. Then back to Gaston. ‘And all your talk of love false too? Dear God! You said we would pass as man and wife. Safer, you said. What would have happened to me, I wonder, before Papa came, if Mr Mattingley had not been here? You’d have had me on my knees, I suppose, begging for marriage? Mr Mattingley, get him out of my sight.’
‘I really think you would be well advised to go.’ Mattingley told Gaston. ‘No good can come of an encounter between you and the Duke now.’
‘I might kill him,’ said Gaston.
‘Which would not exactly improve your position. Patricide has never been a popular crime. Give me any message you wish for the Duke, and I promise to do my best to make him listen to it.’
‘Tell him I’ve gone to the devil. No, dammit, tell him I mean to live! I’ll exchange to a regiment on active service, if he will continue my allowance. Otherwise I’ll talk.’ And as he said this, something struck him. ‘And Caroline?’ he said. ‘Don’t tell me she’s another of his bastards! Dear God, that almost pays for all. Oh, poor little Blakeney! I wonder if he has put the question yet. Yes, Mattingley, you may tell my father that if he wishes my silence, he must pay for it. And in the meantime, can you lend me £50?’ He turned with a sneer to Charlotte. ‘One very good reason, my poppet, why we had to stay here was that I hadn’t a penny to bless myself with after paying that first toll.’
‘You eloped with me with no money?’
‘Since that was all I had. Damned heavy doings at Watier’s last night. I’d hoped at least to earn enough to buy you a pair of bride gloves, but it worked the other way. So, Mattingley, if you would be so good?’
Mattingley smiled his wry smile. ‘I’ll give you what I have,’ he said. ‘And I’ll give the Duke your message. I am sure your idea of active service is an admirable one. He has always been fond of you. Distinguish yourself; stay away; I think you can at least hope to have your allowance continued. So long as you do not talk.’
‘Thanks,’ said Gaston. He turned to Charlotte. ‘What a disappointing first night.’ He made her a deep mocking bow, and left them.
Charlotte looked up, trembling, at Mattingley. ‘He meant to…to ravish me?’ she said.
‘I am afraid so, my dear. You have had a lucky escape.’ No need to tell her that Gaston had undoubtedly expected her to welcome his advances.
When Blakeney’s glum little party reached Chevenham House it was to find a scene of disorder. Mrs Winterton had been taken ill; the Duchess was with her and Dr Farquahar had been summoned. Blakeney handed Caroline over to Tench’s loving care with a brief explanation of her accident, and sought out the Duke in the small downstairs saloon where he entertained his political friends.
‘I’m sorry to hear about Mrs Winterton, sir,’ he began, the note still in his hand. ‘I hope it’s nothing serious.’
‘A deuced ill-managed business,’ said the Duke surprisingly. ‘Parcel of women! What’s this? Note from Mattingley?’ He took and read it swiftly, swore an oath Blakeney had never heard him use before, and stood for a moment, back to the chimneypiece, angrily thinking. ‘Damned fool of a girl,’ he said at last. ‘Made her own bed; serve her right if I let her lie on it. Can’t, of course. But I’m damned if I’m leaving here before Farquahar comes. You’ll have to go, Blakeney. Made a mull of things, one way and another, haven’t you? Up to you to make amends. Mattingley seems sure enough he can keep the young fools till I come. Well, you’ll go. Bring Charlotte home; we’ll have to think of a story. God!’ He put a distraught hand to his brow. ‘Frances is the one who can think of stories. To have her ill now!’ He felt it as a personal affront. ‘Mattingley will think of something.’ He looked at the note again. ‘Has already. Brother and sister escapade. Gaston learned the truth about his birth; shock to him of course; all those royal notions; Charlotte comforting him as a sister should. Deuced improbable, but the world won’t know that. Anyway, by the time you get there, the worst should be over. Mattingley will have told Gaston the truth; sent him away with a flea in his ear, I have no doubt. But if not, I’ll not have you fighting him, Blakeney, understand that. He’s my son, your brother, I won’t have the two of you fighting.’
‘Your son? My brother? Gaston?’ Nothing in the eventful day had hit Blakeney like this. ‘Sir, you can’t mean it!’
‘All a long time ago!’ The Duke did not like to find himself taking this apologetic tone to the son who was gazing at him so straight with wide, horrified eyes. ‘A boy’s wild oat. Deuced pretty girl she was; governess — well,’ he qualified it, ‘nursery maid.’ He laughed, man to man. ‘I really believe she thought I’d marry her.’ And then, discomfited by his son’s shocked silence. ‘Long before I met your mother, of course. Gaston’s a little older than we said.’
‘We?’
‘Your mother knows all about it. Always has. Damn it, man,
she’s a modern wife.’
‘She needs to be,’ said Blakeney. ‘And Mrs Winterton?’
‘Never did like Gaston,’ said the Duke, relieved at this practical question. ‘But Frances has got a lot of sense. God, I wish Farquahar would come! If I’d listened to Frances none of this would have happened. She’s been at me this age to tell those two about their birth.’
‘Those two?’ Something turned to stone in Blakeney’s breast.
‘Why, yes. Thought you’d have seen it right away. Not a milksop, are you, Blakeney? Know what the world’s about? Never noticed the likeness between you and Caroline? Fetching little chit when she’s in spirits, but not a patch on her mother.’
‘Her mother?’
‘Frances, of course. Ah,’ there were sounds of a carriage outside. ‘That will be Farquahar at last. I count on you, Blakeney, to bring Charlotte home with as little fuss as possible. If Gaston should be still there, which I doubt, you will tell him I will continue his allowance so long as he leaves the country. And stays away.’ He was at the room door, listening to the sounds of arrival. ‘It is Farquahar, thank God. Oh, by the way, how did Ffether take it?’
‘Badly,’ said Blakeney between clenched teeth, praying that he would not be sick where he stood.
Chapter Nine
Tench put Caroline straight to bed, and Caroline was glad to go. Her head was reeling from the events of the day, but the one, outstanding, important thing was what had happened between Blakeney and her. ‘Oh, Tench,’ she put up loving arms and hugged the surprised maid, ‘I’m so happy.’
She fell asleep almost instantly, and Tench, who had stood for a moment anxiously watching her, tiptoed away to seek counsel with the Duchess’ maid, Briggs.
‘I could wring his Grace’s stiff neck,’ she told that sympathetic lady. ‘That poor child. If his Lordship ain’t spoke to her, he must have come pretty near it. Stars in her eyes, and hugs and kisses me. “I’m so happy,” she says. I could cry!’
‘And not for lack of warning,’ said Briggs. ‘Povey’s heard her lady on about it often enough, but you know how his Grace is.’
‘Stubborn,’ said Tench.
‘As a mule, and not much more brains. Men!’ said Briggs, with loathing. ‘Povey says he’s been quacking her lady this age. Wouldn’t let her have the doctor. Said he knew the very thing for what ailed her.’
‘Which he should,’ Tench sniffed. ‘Seeing she caught it off him. Lucky for the Duchess he neglects her so.’
‘Mrs Winterton’s real bad now,’ said Briggs. ‘It was the Duchess sent for Farquahar.’
‘She’s a lady, yours. Does she know about Lady Charlotte?’
‘I don’t know. She’s not left Mrs Winterton’s side all day. She’d have something to say if she knew his Grace sent his Lordship instead of going after Lady Charlotte himself.’
‘But it would do no good,’ said Tench. ‘I just hope it ain’t pistols for two!’
‘Mr Gaston would never!’
‘Don’t you be too sure. Think, Mrs Briggs, if Mr Gaston were to kill his Lordship, which heaven preserve us, he’d be the only son.’
‘Wrong side of the blanket.’
‘But the only son.’
Caroline slept through the night and woke with a throbbing head and aching arm. Tench was hovering near the bed, her expression anxious, a steaming cup in her hand.
‘Miss Caroline,’ she came forward as Caroline stirred. ‘You’ve slept the clock round, pretty near. How do you feel?’
‘Happy.’ She smiled at the maid. ‘Stiff. Hungry.’ She took the cup, remembering it all. ‘Charlotte? Is she all right? Did Blakeney bring her home? And how is Mrs Winterton?’
‘Better. I don’t know what Dr Farquahar gave her, but it did the trick. He’s with her again now, deciding if she’s strong enough for the journey.’
‘Journey?’
‘To Bath. She’s to take the waters. Rest and quiet.’
‘And Lady Charlotte?’
‘Goes too. His Lordship brought her safe home last night, praise be.’
‘You know, Tench?’
‘Bless your heart, miss, we all know everything in the hall. That Gaston! He won’t be playing you any more of his sly tricks now, and that’s one comfort. Nor he didn’t fight his Lordship neither, which was what Mrs Briggs and I most feared.’
‘Fight his Lordship! But, Tench, why?’ And then, ‘Oh, you mean over Lady Charlotte? Do you think Gaston truly loved her, Tench?’ The thought of her own love was warm about her heart.
‘He don’t love no one but himself, that Gaston,’ said Tench. ‘And I don’t reckon Lady Charlotte is broken-hearted, neither. Just cross, if you ask me. Smithson says she was neither to hold nor to bind last night, and not much better this morning. If I were you, Miss Caroline, I’d keep to my bed until the worst is over. Oh, Mr Tremadoc called first thing. Flowers and a kind message. And Mr Mattingley.’
‘And his Lordship?’ Caroline had to ask it. ‘Has he enquired after me? He saved my life, Tench. I long to thank him.’
‘He’s not been here today, miss.’ Tench felt herself on dangerous ground and was relieved by a knock on the door. She opened it a crack, held a brief talk with Briggs and returned to the bed. ‘The Duchess is wishful to visit you, miss. Are you strong enough, do you think?’
‘Like this? But, yes, indeed I am!’ Could Blakeney have spoken already to his mother? ‘Quick, Tench, my comb and a shawl. Is the room tidy? Yes, of course it is. I can count on you for that.’ She let Tench plump up the pillows behind her, cast a quick, anxious glance at the pale, bright-eyed reflection in her glass, and said, ‘Do, please, tell the Duchess I shall be most happy to see her.’
‘Yes, miss.’ What was the matter with Tench this morning?
The Duchess, too, looked heavy-eyed, doubtless with watching by Mrs Winterton’s bed. ‘Dear child,’ she said, ‘how do you feel today?’
‘Better, thank you. Oh, ma’am, Blakeney saved my life. I do long to thank him.’
The Duchess looked sadly at the eager, blushing girl in the bed. So Mattingley had been right in the swift warning he had given her, while officially enquiring after Frances Winterton. Poor child, she thought, how shall I tell her? ‘Dear Blakeney,’ she said. ‘I do not know how we could go on without him. His father is quite delighted with the way he behaved yesterday. Contriving everything so well for my poor, foolish Charlotte. It’s been an ill-managed business, I am afraid.’ She pulled up a chair close to the bed and sat silent for a moment.
Caroline looked at her in surprise. She had never seen the Duchess at a loss for words before. She took a little breath of courage. She had known that things would not be easy for Blakeney and her. Did the Duchess know something? Was the trouble starting? But they had promised each other. Were sure. It was but to wait. I love him, she thought. I trust him. And this is his mother. She smiled tremulously at the Duchess.
‘Dear ma’am,’ she asked. ‘Are you very angry with me?’
‘Angry? Dear child, why in the world should I be angry with you? With Charlotte, yes, and with Gaston, who have behaved so foolishly. And yet, whose fault is that? Frances and I have begged the Duke, over and over again, to let us tell you and Gaston the truth, now you are both grown up…’ She stopped, twisting her lace-trimmed handkerchief in nervous hands.
‘Tell us the truth? What do you mean? Forgive me, ma’am.’ She had spoken sharply, and knew it. ‘I have the headache a little this morning. It makes me stupid. I do not rightly understand what there is to tell Gaston and me.’
‘That you are the Duke’s children.’ The Duchess brought it out in a rush. Then, watching with compassion as Caroline took it like the blow it was, she moved to the bell. ‘Sal volatile, Tench. Miss Caroline is not well.’ And, ashamed of herself, left Caroline alone. But what was there to say? What comfort to give? Much better to pretend nothing had happened between Caroline and Blakeney, though she was sure now that Mattingley was right, and that something had.
<
br /> Caroline did not cry. Watching her white silence, Tench wished she would. If she would be angry, scream, have hysterics, blame someone, it would be better for her, Tench thought.
‘I shall get up, Tench,’ she said at last. ‘I shall be better dressed.’ And then, ‘Tench, you have always been my friend. You knew?’
‘Yes, miss. We always know, in the servants’ hall.’
‘I wish you had told me.’
‘So do I. But it wasn’t my place, miss.’
‘No. I’m not blaming you, Tench. You’re all I’ve got left to love.’
‘Oh, miss!’ Tench was crying a little herself. ‘You mustn’t feel like that. Think of your poor mother.’
‘My mother? The Duchess never said…’ In her passion of grief, she had hardly thought of this aspect of her case. Now, her mind flashed from remembered scene to scene. The beautiful visitor who never came back…That absurd doll… ‘Mrs Winterton,’ she said. ‘I do not think she is breaking her heart for me, Tench.’
‘Well, poor lady, she’s ill,’ said Tench, and hoped Caroline would never know what was the matter with her mother.
Dressed, Caroline found she could not bring herself to go downstairs. If Charlotte knew, everybody would know. The servants too. Tench had said so. Sympathetic, knowing eyes…The Duke’s bastard daughter. A little shrimp, he had called her. The Duke’s disappointing bastard daughter. So plain as she was, of course it had never struck him Blakeney might like her. Like? Love. My half-brother, she thought. Ah, poor Blakeney. No wonder he had not come to the house today. He must have learned yesterday. Did he feel sick with horror, as she did? She was sure of it. So in her own misery, one thing stood out, one plain duty. How could she make things easier for Blakeney? Well, not easier, just less unbearable.
The answer stared her in the face. She must go away. But where? Not to Llanfryn. She had heard, only the other day, that Mr Trentham was dead. And Sophie, sending the brief announcement, had left no opening for further correspondence. Her letter had been a door closing in Caroline’s face. I have nowhere, she thought now. No one. Nowhere to go.
The Lost Garden (The Purchas Family Series Book 5) Page 14