“I never thought of it when I was younger. Hope was always so fiery, and Mama was always slapping her, while I was always told I was the good girl, which made me rather smug.” She looked rueful. “But I do remember one day when I was alone with Papa in the drawing room after Mama had gone to lock Hope up in her bedroom again, that I asked why Hope and Mama were always fighting. I’ll never forget his answer. He looked at me sadly and said, more to himself, really, that it was hard for a beautiful woman to see the child she rears grow more beautiful as she herself ages, but intolerable for her to accept that her stepdaughter is garnering more interest than she.”
“Good Lord, I didn’t know your mother wasn’t Hope’s natural mother.”
“Hope’s mama died when she was born, and Papa married Mama when I was a year old. Hope’s always called her Mama, and although I know she must have been told that Mama wasn’t her real mother, I can’t ever remember any mention in the house of Hope’s real mama. I suppose that’s because Mama tends to be a little jealous.”
Felix nodded. “So your mama and Hope had their differences.”
“I’d never have said it was something I noticed, especially, but after I came upon Hope’s letter, I began to remember so many things that Hope had said were unfair when we were younger, though she seemed to have become resigned to it, later. Papa used to defend Hope when Mama flew into one of her furies and that used to make Mama even more furious.” Charlotte sighed. “Since reading that letter I’ve been so worried about Hope. I just wish I knew where she was and that I could be assured she was all right. And as happy as I am.” Her face brightened as Lord Hartley joined them, flanked by Lady Hunt and Annabelle.
Felix nodded at the easy-natured fellow whom he’d known since childhood. He was a decent chap, and he had no qualms he would treat Charlotte well. He also bore all the signs of a man in love which was good to see.
So did Annabelle, which gave him dreadful qualms of anxiety, for his mind was deeply troubled by the ramifications of what Charlotte had just told him. Gazing at Annabelle’s luminous face framed by golden hair, he knew he’d have to work hard to make himself love the girl within, though her temper was equable and she’d always appeared to him pleasant enough.
She’d had no shortage of admirers, either, and seemed the kind of social butterfly who knew just what to say. Annabelle had set her sights on him from early on; he knew that.
And the previous afternoon, furious after his midnight encounter with Hope, he’d attended Lady Hunt’s afternoon garden party, as arranged, and surprising no one more so than himself, agreed with Annabelle’s father, Sir Reginald, when the fellow had said that the time really had come to put the girl out of her misery, and that Felix should get over his foolish objections to becoming leg-shackled and marry his daughter. For the next half an hour, Felix had had to put up with Annabelle’s gushing as to how he’d made her the happiest bride-to-be in all England, and even before she’d stopped her prattling, he’d felt like the most trapped man in all England.
Still, he knew what was required of him, so when she clasped his forearm fondly, now, he returned the look as best he could before saying, as Mrs Merriweather joined their circle, “What a joyful occasion this is for everyone. My condolences, Mrs Merriweather, that your husband will not be around to witness Miss Charlotte’s happy day, but I wonder if Miss Hope will attend the wedding.”
Mrs Merriweather, a handsome woman of middle age, had been all amiable smiles. Now she looked momentarily discomposed before she glanced at Lady Hunt, who said smoothly, “Alas, Hope is unable to make the long journey from her situation in Leipzig. However, the news you clearly haven’t heard is that she, too, is in receipt of an offer that will make her just as happy as her sister.”
“Mama, you never told me!” gasped Charlotte, while Felix went suddenly cold.
Mrs Merriweather nodded. “I’d been meaning to, my dear, but the last few days have been all about you and your wonderful plans.”
“Mama, she’s my sister! Of course I’d want to know.” Charlotte looked distressed, and Felix asked, “Who is the gentleman in question?”
Mrs Merriweather, at whom he’d directed his query, glanced at Lady Hunt who said, “The nephew of the family to whom she went as governess two years ago.” Smiling at her companion, she added, “I told Margaret it was a wonderful opportunity for Hope, and so it has proven to be.”
Felix glanced at Charlotte, who looked nonplussed but said nothing, and then Lord Hartley turned the subject by inviting her onto the dance floor, and the party broke up.
Felix felt it was appropriate to invite his betrothed onto the dance floor also, as he needed the exertion of some energetic waltzing if only to give his mind free rein. Making small talk with Annabelle would be excruciating, but fortunately the fast pace of this waltz would preclude that.
He needed to sort through his head all the conflicting information he’d learnt in such a short time. Not that he’d learnt much. He’d only been presented with unexplained anomalies.
Miss Charlotte had had only questions that he could not answer and which, indirectly, he’d asked Mrs Merriweather, who’d, in turn, directed them to Lady Hunt.
Felix had a dozen more questions though clearly he was going to get only lies if he asked directly.
He wondered what Annabelle knew of the clandestine affair between Hope and her brother. And how long had it been going on? Had Hope eloped with Wilfred before she was due to meet Felix at the church and then discovered she’d not chosen the better man, hence her letter begging for rescue and forgiveness?
“My, Felix, but you’re a superb dancer,” Annabelle told him, laughing at the pleasurable exertion as he led her off the dance floor a few minutes later. Her face was flushed and her eyes sparkled as she squeezed his arm. “I know you must be bored hearing it, but you truly have made me the happiest girl in all the land.”
He had to go carefully. It would not do to burst her excited bubble. Annabelle, for all her generally equable nature, could sulk and rage, he knew from having known her since she was in the cradle. Not that they’d had very much to do with one another until she was a young woman assessing the local talent in the district before being prepared for her London debut. He wondered why she hadn’t made more of her opportunities for snaring any number of the eligible and far more illustrious catches she could have made.
Felix forced a smile as he made an expansive gesture with one arm. The other was being tightly clung to by Annabelle.
“And you are a butterfly amidst the throng. Young and beautiful. Why choose me?”
She looked coy. “Why, you chose me, Felix.”
“But you could have made any number of wonderful matches during the last two years.” He plucked two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed her one. “I often wondered why you didn’t marry in your first season out. Or your second.”
Annabelle took a sip, staring at him over the rim. “I was waiting for you,” she said softly.
He gave a nervous laugh. “Me? Why, I’m hardly the greatest catch in this room. Granted, there are many mamas who would have welcomed me as a suitor in the local district but you, Annabelle, could have done so much better.”
“I knew from the moment I turned twelve years old that I wanted only you, Felix. And now my patience has paid off.”
He repressed a shudder as she went on, “I remember the first local ball I attended. I hadn’t come out yet, but Mama let me go so I could get my feet wet, as they say.” She smiled. “You were the very first gentleman who asked me to dance, and when you put your hands on my waist and twirled me round the room, I knew I need look no further for my husband. I’d known you since I was a little girl, Felix, but here you were, a handsome, grown-up gentleman, down from Cambridge, and my Prince Charming. You danced with me three times that night, and when I got home, I told Mama I would save them the expense of a London season because the husband I wanted lived in the large house on top the hill.”
“Waiting patiently for me to settle down, eh, and realise at last that I needed a wife?”
She put her head on one side, paused, then said under her breath, “Yes, once you’d got over your obsession with Hope Merriweather.”
He felt her words like a knife and winced.
Perhaps she didn’t notice for she went on, “That wild girl was the despair of her mama and papa. Her behaviour was scandalous—”
“Was it? I don’t recall that.” Nor did he. Yes, Hope was spirited and loved to ride fast and to run about the neighbourhood without restraint, but was that really wild? He’d done the same when he was a lad.
Annabelle’s nostrils flared. She glanced about the room then back at Felix. “I know the local ladies decided she should not be invited to the local entertainments because she was a corrupting influence on the rest of us.”
“Poor Miss Merriweather. That must have been hard.”
“And wasn’t that confirmed when she rode so boldly right into the Hunt! The ladies were scandalised. Her mama was mortified, but Hope wouldn’t listen to anyone, and she rode with the rest of them as if she were…one of the men!”
Felix stared through the girl speaking as he remembered his impressions of Hope joining them so confidently, horses and hounds making way for the fine figure she cut. So young. So defiant. The gentlemen hadn’t seemed to mind. In fact, some of them had applauded her for her spirit.
And she certainly hadn’t seemed like one of the men when she’d fallen from her horse, and he’d nearly kissed her. But Annabelle would remember that.
“You rode too, Annabelle, if you recall. You joined us just after Hope fell from her horse.”
Annabelle sent him a suspicious glance. “I went for a gentle canter. I did not join the Hunt, but I came upon the two of you, as you no doubt recall.”
Felix nodded. “You seemed very concerned about Hope’s well-being. I remember being a little surprised when you dismounted and rushed towards us, crying out to know if she were hurt.”
Annabelle nodded. “Of course. We might not have been bosom friends, but Mama was on friendly terms with Hope’s mama, or should I say stepmama, so we were together a bit.”
“I hadn’t known Mrs Merriweather was not her real mother. Hope must have been distraught when her father died so suddenly, just after she’d left for Germany.”
Annabelle gave a somewhat frustrated sigh. “And now she’s to marry the nephew of Mama’s friend in Leipzig. She has been away a long time, Felix, and she’s not once written to ask after any of us.” She paused, adding firmly, “Hope’s never coming back to England.”
Felix nodded slowly. “Never coming back to England,” he repeated softly, frowning as he asked, “I believe you farewelled her at the station on the day she left. Was she sad to leave? She’d promised to say goodbye to me but she didn’t.”
He saw her guarded look. “There wasn’t time. You remember the snowfall we’d had the night before. Mr Merriweather couldn’t get his carriage out from his stable, so he sent a message round and Wilfred and I picked Hope up on the road. But that’s a long time ago. Hope’s gone to another country now and you are marrying me. Please let’s not talk about her. I’ve waited so long to be reassured that your heart belongs only to me. Perhaps you loved Hope once, but she didn’t return your feelings otherwise she’d have waited. Or come home. Or sent you a message.”
But Felix’s thoughts were stuck in the past. Though no words of commitment had been spoken, he’d have staked his life on the fact Hope wanted to meet him at the church before she left for Germany.
“Did Hope ask you to stop at the church when she got into the carriage?”
Annabelle’s expression was combative as she shook her head. “She was just worried she’d miss her train.”
Felix couldn’t bear the subterfuge. He gripped Annabelle’s gloved forearm and put his head close to hers, hoping the gesture would be interpreted as loving by onlookers. Really, he’d never felt more angry and hunted in his life. “Tell me what happened inside the carriage, Annabelle,” he muttered. “Something happened. Did she get on that train? Did you see her get on that train?”
Annabelle swivelled her gaze as she instinctively moved away from Felix’s uncomfortable interrogation. “What an odd question. Well, of course she got on that train. Wilfred took her there. He told me so.”
“He told you so? Then you didn’t see her actually board.”
“I was dropped off at my friend’s house in the village,” Annabelle said defensively. “But Wilfred was going directly to the station. Yes.”
“So, if Hope was full of enthusiasm for her new adventure as you say, what aspect was she particularly excited about? Charlotte tells me she didn’t want to go.”
“Really, Felix, is this necessary when we are just betrothed? It’s hardly nice to talk about Hope Merriweather to the girl you’re going to marry.”
“No, but I need to be reassured that Miss Merriweather said nothing about me before she left.” Felix called on all the creative logic at his fingertips, knowing that his response was lame. Nevertheless, he needed something from Annabelle. Something to start working with to put the pieces of the puzzle together. “Please, Annabelle. Think. That’ll help me put the past behind me, once and for all.”
Annabelle gave a huffy sigh. “She was sleeping. She didn’t say a word.”
“Sleeping?”
Felix’s shocked tones took Annabelle by surprise. Colour stole into her cheeks, and she looked like she was giving herself a mental shake as she replied, cagily, “She’d had something to drink which I think might have made her sleep. By accident, though.”
“By accident? What do you mean?” Alarm was weaving through Felix now at a rapid pace.
Annabelle frowned as she apparently tried to recall. She seemed uncomfortable in the face of Felix’s intense stare and tossed her head, giving a false little trill for the benefit of the others in the room, though her expression was concerned. “Hope had been waiting at the end of the driveway in the cold for us to arrive, for of course we couldn’t venture to the house in the carriage with the fallen tree blocking the way. After Wilfred helped her into the carriage, I offered her what I thought was the flask containing warm honey and lemon that Mama had sent with us.”
“What do you mean ‘you thought’.” Felix didn’t care how menacing he sounded even if the consequence was that Annabelle looked frightened.
In a softer voice, the girl replied, “I accidentally offered her the wrong flask. It was Mama’s, and Hope drank long and deep much more than she should have—and suddenly she was sleeping.”
“Good Lord, Annabelle! What are you saying?”
Annabelle looked distressed. “Oh, Felix, if you must know, Hope was a complete fool for drinking so much from Mama’s flask, though I tried to pull it away from her after I realised it was the flask into which I’d added the contents of the laudanum vial I’d purchased earlier from the apothecary. One should only take a couple of drops in liquid at a time.”
“I know,” said Felix, heavily. “So you’re telling me you drugged Hope.”
“I didn’t drug her,” Annabelle bristled. “Not intentionally, and of course it was hardly going to kill her. Mama takes laudanum all the time. Papa worries, but Mama says she only takes a few drops and her mood is so much sweeter when she does.”
“So you just left Hope sleeping?” Felix asked.
“Well, we’d arrived at my friend Jenny’s house, and Jenny was waving to me from the window. Wilfred said he’d ensure Hope was awake to get on the train and that’s how we parted.” Annabelle shot Felix a suspicious glance. “Of course Wilfred would have waited until Hope was well enough to get onto the train. My brother is a gentleman.”
She said it indignantly as if it were likely that Felix would refute the truth of her statement.
But Felix wasn’t focused on Annabelle. Rather, he was assimilating how this new evidence from Annabelle accorded with what Charlotte had told him.
“Felix! Where are you going?”
But Felix ignored her.
Chapter 13
With a final flourish, Hope arranged the feather in her elaborate coiffure and stepped back to admire the finished ensemble. Madame Chambon had been disappointed Hope’s wealthy admirer had not offered the lavish terms expected during his last visit and Hope was feeling the pressure.
Daisy, her dresser, clapped her hands. “I reckon Lord Westfall will throw a pearl choker inta the bargain when ‘e sees ya, miss.” She knelt to arrange Hope’s train. “Will ya be sad to leave this place, then, if Lord Westfall makes ya the offa ya’s bin expectin’?”
“It’ll be nice to have to please only one gentleman,” Hope said, thinking to the future and trying not to think of Felix whose marriage to Miss Annabelle had just been printed in the newspapers.
“Ya gotta twist him round yer little finger early, miss. When ‘e wants ya real bad. That’s when the gennulmen are most generous.” Daisy fussed about Hope, dishing out advice like a seasoned professional. “An’ ya gotta put some unda a stone fer a rainy day. That’s what me gran always told me. Not that it’s likely I’ll eva ‘ave any spare ta put unda a stone. But ya will, miss. Yer a sharp one. That’s why Lord Westfall likes ya. ‘E likes ‘em with wit ta go with beauty an’ all them other things gennulmen can’t live wivvout. If ya play yer cards right, ‘e might even make ya ‘is wife one day.”
Hope raised one eyebrow. “Women like me don’t become wives, Daisy.”
“Jess did.”
“She married the blacksmith because she was so desperate to be respectably married, and his was the best offer that came her way.” She gave a half smile as she thought of the lengths to which she’d go to be respectably married. Soon, she’d become Lord Westfall’s mistress, she supposed, since there were precious other options that would not see her into an early pauper’s grave.
As for Felix, she’d heard nothing from him since their tense, impassioned coupling of several days ago. Wilfred would be very careful to ensure Hope posed no danger to his sister’s happiness and position as Felix’s new wife—both before and after Charlotte’s marriage—and Hope could only assume he’d done his worst.
Fair Cyprians of London Boxset: Books 1-5: Five passionate Victorian Romances Page 15