Corcoran and the household help were supplemented by local labor. The pavilion was unpacked, inspected, cleaned and prepared. The temporary tables for inside the pavilion were checked. The croquet sets, the cricket gear, and more balls, hoops and toys were assembled. The maze was given a close trim. The horses and ponies were groomed and prepared. Raymond and Corcoran walked down to the cliffs to closely examine the old wooden stairs down to the beach to ensure they were sound enough to support running feet, midnight adventures and more.
A mountain of food was prepared. The entire garden could not provide fresh produce for the twenty-eight people who would live and play together for a week, so local supplies were arranged and delivered in numerous carts and buggies. The sounds of industry and delicious smells drifted from the kitchen for days, as Cook made pies and cakes, biscuits and other delights and prepared to serve twenty-eight people at every meal.
Finally, the close of the Eton half arrived and with it, the start of the Gather. Because there was only one train running from Falmouth to Truro on the Sunday, everyone who was travelling to Cornwall arrived in Falmouth and waited there for the train to Truro. The arrival of everyone in Truro didn’t always coordinate as precisely as Corcoran would wish. This year, though, it did. Everyone was on the same train, the four o’clock from Falmouth.
“They must very nearly fill the entire train,” Cian said as they stood upon the platform, watching the steam rising from three miles away, as the train approached.
Corcoran was busy rounding up hacks to transport luggage and people back to the house. Even the Innesford charabanc could only carry twelve people—fewer, if their trunks came with them.
Cian moved down to the end of the platform, impatient for the train to arrive, while Natasha stood waiting toward the other end, where the first class carriages would stop.
Raymond came up to her side. His fingers tangled with hers, hidden inside a fold of her skirt.
Surprised, Natasha looked up at him. It was not like him to risk open affection. Not since London, at least.
“I regret the ending of this time,” he murmured. “In all but one way, it has been perfect. Thank you for that.”
“For the near perfection, or for ruining it with one flaw?” she asked, her heart thudding unhappily. She knew what the flaw was. It had remained unspoken for these past weeks.
Raymond’s smile was small. Before he could answer, Corcoran came hurrying up to report on his success with the hacks and Raymond moved away, toward the bulletin board where the autumn fair was announced and the schedule for cathedral services had been pinned.
The train rounded the last gentle curve and was visible now, the chuffing louder.
Natasha stared at Raymond, her heart not calming. For one tiny moment, she had shared an intimacy with Raymond, right here in public, instead of hidden away in dark rooms and communicated by whispers. It had been…perfect.
Then the train was there, blowing steam and hissing noisily and doors were slid open with a bang. People stepped out onto the platform, dozens of them and not all of them part of the family. Those few hurried off the platform quickly.
The rest though, were chatting and laughing and calling to each other. The children immediately ran about the platform, chasing each other and working off the confinement they had suffered through the last few hours.
Porters with their trolleys wove among them all.
Natasha didn’t move. She was frozen, her mind turning in faster and faster circles. Instead, she observed all the familiar faces, cataloguing the growth of the children over the last year, the changes in faces, fashion and appearances. Who was happy, who was discontented, who was yawning right there in public and had probably dozed on the train.
Lilly was there, wearing a sensible brown worsted suit, with her hair neat and tidy. Natasha’s heart stirred. Poor Lilly…
Lilly saw Raymond and her face lit up. She hurried over to him, as close to a run as a lady could get and embraced him, right there for everyone to see. Lilly was not the only one doing that. Anna and Elisa were hugging Cian and talking happily, too.
Raymond hesitated for a moment, then hugged her back, his expression softening. They stood together, talking softly, in among the noisiest, largest family the station had ever seen.
The station master stood at the door to his little office, his arms crossed, as he watched the public spectacle. He did not look upset. The Innesford family was a part of Truro and the townsfolk were proud of them.
Vaughn moved over to Raymond and held out his hand. Rhys followed.
Raymond shook both hands, one after another and the three of them instantly fell to discussing something that could only be of interest to men, while Lilly stood quietly listening. Corcoran was bowing and nodding and trying to coax everyone to move toward the vehicles he had arranged for them. It was all so very, very normal.
An invisible band tightened around Natasha’s chest, making it difficult to breathe, as she recognized the swirl of feelings in her breast. How long had she loved Raymond? She knew now, at last. She finally understood.
She had fallen in love with him.
“Oh, Seth…” she whispered, her eyes aching. She would not cry. Not here and not for this reason. She pulled her gaze away from Raymond, to give herself time to recover.
Morven Fortescue was standing at the end of the platform, right by the stairs down to the road, on the other side of the bulletin board from where everyone was standing and talking. She was carrying a small overnight bag and an umbrella and looked as though she had been about to descend the stairs, except that she was staring at Natasha. Her eyes were narrowed.
When Natasha saw her, Morven’s expression shifted. It became wise. A small smile played about her lips.
Natasha barely felt any shock. The woman had a way of appearing wherever Natasha might be, with the most interesting timing. It seemed inevitable that at this, one of the most important moments of her life, the woman would be here to see it.
Natasha grabbed her skirt and petticoats and lifted them, so she could walk as swiftly as possible over to where Morven was standing. She stopped right in front of her. “For a lady who wishes only to retire to Scotland, you have an uncanny ability to arrive everywhere but Inverness.”
Morven’s face shifted again. She nodded. “I can understand why you might feel that way.” She hefted the bag in her hand. “I have an establishment, not far away. I have come to finalize the sale of it, before returning to Inverness.”
Natasha pulled her hands into fists. “Forgive my rudeness, but I do not believe you.”
Morven gave a short laugh. “I finally speak a complete truth to you and it is the time you accuse me of lying.”
“I beg your pardon?” Natasha said, confused.
Morven looked around. The happy noises on the other side of the platform were not abating. “I have a carriage, below,” she said quickly. “We can talk there and no one will see you with me. Come along.”
She turned to go.
“Why should I go anywhere with you?” Natasha asked.
Morven’s blue eyes met hers. “I saw you looking at Marblethorpe just then. I recognize that look, Lady Innesford. I have seen it on countless faces. We must talk, you and I. You will find it to your benefit. Only, we must talk in my carriage. Believe me, you do not want to be seen with me here in Cornwall.”
Natasha’s heart fluttered uneasily. Morven did not wait for her response. She hurried down the steps, her sensible hoops swaying.
Natasha glanced around. Corcoran was still trying manfully to lead everyone to the carriages and the porters were still huffing as they moved trunks from the train. They would be busy for a while yet.
She turned and followed Morven Fortescue.
Chapter Fourteen
Vaughn and Rhys were arguing over the results of the steeplechase at Newmarket when Raymond noticed Lilly edging away from the group in her silent way.
He caught her arm and pulled her to one side. “I
apologize. I forgot how you hate racing.”
Lilly shook her head. “You belong with them more than you belong with me. Go back and talk.”
“Now, what does that mean?” he asked.
Lilly’s clear gaze met his. “I know about you and my mother, Raymond.”
He let his surprise show. He could not help but glance around the platform, suddenly aware of their very public location.
“Oh, don’t worry. No one outside the family knows,” Lilly told him.
“How many inside the family know?” Raymond asked, his horror building.
“You have been at Innesford for two months. I would think everyone has made an assumption of some kind or another.” She made to leave again.
“No, wait, please,” he said quickly, trying to shrug off the concern she had just delivered. He would have to consider it later. “I wanted to ask you a question.”
Lilly looked at him expectantly.
“It’s just that…it may upset you.”
“You have not done that already?” she asked.
Raymond shook his head. “It is important, Lilly. Could you…would you mind telling me how your father died?”
Her face grew pale and she stopped trying to pull her arm from his hand. “Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know how it happened. I thought I did. Now, I am not sure.”
“Pneumonia,” Lilly whispered. She wasn’t even looking at him. “It came on fast and he went quickly.”
Then she tugged at his hand again. Raymond let her go, his fingers nerveless.
* * * * *
Morven’s carriage was plain and sensible, just as she was to outward appearances. The inside was warm enough. Natasha sat on the very edge of the seat opposite Morven, her uneasiness building, as Morven peered through the windows at the buildings of Truro, then lowered the blinds.
“Please hurry,” Natasha said curtly. “I don’t have much time.”
Morven arranged her dress over her petticoats to her satisfaction, then put her hands on her lap and looked at Natasha. “Twenty-five years ago, my husband, Baronet Tachbrook, died. When he married me, I was a penniless commoner with a pretty face. After he died, I learned that he was as penniless as I. There were no children and all his family were dead, too. That was why there had been no opposition to his marriage to me. It left me with an estate with taxes due and a bare pantry.”
Natasha stared at her. This was a story she had heard before. The misfortune of widows whose husbands could not manage their money were many. It also confirmed that Morven was as lonely as she had suspected and her pity grew.
“I made a decision,” Morven said. “I moved from the northern end of the country all the way to the southern end.”
“Cornwall,” Natasha breathed.
“No one knew me here, of course. My husband had been insular and disinclined to travel. I could call myself anything I wanted here, so I took to using my middle name and earned my way by selling favors to gentlemen.” Her gaze was direct. Uncompromising.
Natasha shrank back. “You are…are…” She couldn’t speak the word. Horror was squeezing her throat.
“I was a prostitute,” Morven said flatly. “I was a very good one. I built my own business and had half a dozen very high class women working for me. Gentlemen, especially those of rank, prefer the utmost discretion and I could give them that. It helped that I understood the challenges of their lives.”
Natasha tried to breathe. Her stays were too tight. She desperately wanted to climb from the carriage and run all the way back to Innesford House. Her skin was crawling.
“Why are you telling me this?” she demanded of Morven.
“Raymond Devlin was a favorite client of mine, for more than ten years,” Morven said.
Natasha moaned. She clutched at the door handle, illness making her weak and dizzy. “You lie,” she whispered.
“Every year, Raymond would attend the family gathering at Innesford,” Morven said. “Every year, I would visit him there, late at night. Why do you think he preferred the inferior accommodations of the carriage house? It was easier for me to slip in and out, there.”
Natasha closed her eyes. Sound beat at her, muffling her hearing. It throbbed in her head.
“Are you listening, Lady Innesford?” Morven asked softly. Her voice sounded as though it was coming from a far distance.
Natasha shook her head. No. She would not listen to a moment more of this. Yet her hand had no strength to open the door.
“Even though I use the name Annette here, Raymond would call me Susanna,” Morven said. “He insisted upon it.”
Natasha drew in a hot, miasmic breath, shock giving her the strength to look at the creature sitting opposite her.
Morven nodded. “Yes, I thought that name might catch your attention.” Her smile was soft. “It took me many years to realize that Raymond was desperately in love with the real Susanna and could not have her for some reason. I was the way he coped with not having her. I gave him a release he could find no other way.”
Natasha couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe. She could only stare helplessly at Morven as she said such dreadful things.
Morven was not gloating, though. She did not have a vengeful glint in her eye. She even seemed to be a little sad. “Raymond refused to ever speak about Susanna, of course. You can imagine I was consumed by curiosity to know who had captured his heart so thoroughly. Then, last year, he did tell me.”
“Who is she?” Natasha whispered. “That is why you pulled me in here, is it not? To tell me who she is?”
Morven nodded. “I saw your face, on the platform. You are in love with Raymond, only no one knows. I don’t think Raymond knows, either.”
Natasha swallowed. Of course he didn’t know. She had just realized herself. Oh, of all the terrible moments for this woman to have seen her, it was that one!
Morven let out a frustrated hiss. “Susanna is you, Lady Innesford. Surely you must have suspected.”
Natasha’s heart creaked. “Me…? But…” It couldn’t be. Her name wasn’t Susanna, not even her middle name. If Raymond had loved her for more than ten years, then he would have been barely nineteen.
Her thoughts circled, faster and faster.
The carriage house. His isolation. The speculation among the family that Raymond was better than most men at hiding his indiscretions. In truth, he had never dabbled with a daughter of the peerage and lived to tell the tale. He had been in love with someone else—her—for ten years and had hidden it. Subsumed it, except for once a year, he had pretended this woman in front of Natasha, with her dark hair and blue eyes, was she.
“My name isn’t Susanna,” Natasha whispered. It was the one hope she had that this awful revelation was wrong.
“You have forgotten your bible,” Morven said complacently. “The Book of Daniel. Susanna was a married woman accused of meeting with a young man in her garden.”
Natasha moaned sickly. It was true. It was all true. Raymond loved her—had always loved her. She fumbled for the latch and leaned on it. The door flung open under her weight and she stumbled out of the carriage into the mild light of late afternoon in October.
It was too bright. She held up her hand to shield her eyes and saw one of the local hackneys in front of her. Dazed, she stumbled over to it, fumbling with her reticule. She found a crown and held it up. It was too much. She didn’t care.
The drive took the crown. “Innesford, my lady?”
Of course. Everyone knew who she was, here. She nodded and climbed mutely inside. The driver clicked the horses into motion and she clung to the back corner of the seat, ill with shock and shivering.
At last, she was at the house. She almost fell getting out of the cab and held on to the door until she was steady. Then she hurried into the house and called for Mulloy, who came running up from the kitchen, surprise on her face. “You’re back, my lady? Where is everyone else?”
Natasha almost groaned again. Of course,
the family would not be far behind. Corcoran would have nudged them into carriages by now.
She couldn’t face them. Raymond would be among them and she desperately needed time to think.
“Pack my things, please, Mulloy,” she told her maid. Her lips weren’t working properly. She removed her gloves and bonnet and gave them to her.
“Pack, my lady?” Mulloy asked, puzzled.
“I…I am returning to London at once.” Although she had no idea what she would do there, except that it was away from Cornwall.
“But, my lady, everyone is here, aren’t they?”
“Do what I ask, please,” Natasha said stiffly. She looked around. She couldn’t stay in the house. She couldn’t be here when they returned. She moved through the house, leaving Mulloy gawping at her. Across the big drawing room and through the beautiful French doors, out onto the terrace. Her boots crunched on the gravel, then she was walking on lawn, freshly mowed and rolled in preparation for the gathering. She hurried. At the end of the lawn, which went for a very long way, there was a hedge with a gate. The gate was never locked, for all these lands, including the cliffs and the beach, belonged to the estate.
Natasha stepped through the gate, onto the wood slat path that led through the untamed countryside, to the very edge of the cliff. There, the path turned into steps that zigzagged down to the little cove beneath, with its turquoise waters and crescent beach. At the far eastern end of the bay was Innesford itself, the little village right on the promontory, with the harbor wall curving around protectively and the lighthouse at the end of it.
The wind was always strong here, throwing up enormous waves against the bluff at the other end of the cove. As Natasha started down the stairs, it wailed at her. Tendrils of hair whipped across her eyes. Above, gulls were hovering in the updraft, watching for fish.
She kept going. The keening of the wind matched the ache in her heart. This was where she needed to be.
By the time she reached the beach, though, the wind had dropped to an intermittent gust. It was only at the top of the cliffs that it had torn at her. Now, though, her hair was in disarray and hanging about her face. She unclipped it and shook it loose, then brushed her fingers through it. She picked up her skirt and headed over to the big pile of rocks. On the other side, the wind would be almost completely buffered and the very last of the daylight would warm the rock face.
Scandalous Scions One Page 19