No Place for an Angel

by Gail Whitiker

  ‘Of course I refused him. Do you think you’re the only one who realises how wrong it would be for him to go through with this?’ Catherine said angrily. ‘The only one who recognises how terrible it would be for him to lose everything he was born to? I love your son as much as he loves me, Lord Alderbury, but I know what people will think if he goes through with this marriage. What you will think of him. And I refuse to bring that kind of shame on his head. That’s why I turned him down and why I’ve decided to take Thomas and go abroad.’

  ‘“Abroad”?’ It was Alderbury’s turn to frown. ‘Richard said you were leaving London. I assumed he meant for another part of England.’

  ‘That’s what I wanted him to believe. But I intend to go somewhere with Thomas where I can live without the constant fear of discovery. Without the stigma of being thought a whore because I have a son and no husband. That’s why I came here today, Lord Alderbury,’ Catherine said. ‘So that you might know that I do love your son enough to turn him down and because you must now do everything you can to convince him to marry someone else. Someone who will be a loving wife to him and a good mother to Sebastian and to the rest of the children they will have. You must help him to move on.’ She started towards the door. ‘I do care about your son’s future, and about your grandson’s.’

  ‘Wait. Wait, I said!’ he barked when she kept on walking. ‘Are you honestly telling me you’re not going to try to hold on to him? Even though he’s told you he loves you and asked you to be his wife?’

  Catherine nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She wanted to cry, but she wouldn’t give Alderbury the satisfaction. What little pride she had left meant too much.

  Alderbury was silent, too. Finally he bent and wrote something in the ledger. ‘Here.’ He tore it out and walked across the room to hand it to her. ‘Consider it a parting gift.’

  Catherine took the slip of paper, saw what he had written and then slowly and deliberately tore it up. ‘I have no need of your money, my lord. Nor would I take it if I had. I would never put myself in a position of obligation to you.’ She dropped the pieces of Alderbury’s cheque on the floor and walked out of the room, feeling better in one respect yet at the same time a hundred times worse.

  She didn’t want to admit that having told Valbourg she would marry him if his father approved, she had come to see Alderbury today in the hopes he might change his mind. That she might have been able to say something that would have made a difference. She had seen very quickly that Valbourg was right. His father’s mind was made up. He was not going to change it on the strength of her visit. And as long as he felt that way, Catherine knew she would never be in a position to entertain Valbourg’s proposal.

  * * *

  It was at Lady Rigby’s musicale that Valbourg found the clarity he was seeking. He was standing beside Lady Susan and her mother, both of whom looked very pleased that Lady Susan had been named the favourite to become his wife, when he noticed his father talking to Lord and Lady Matheson, a couple who made no secret of the fact they detested one another. A few feet away, Valbourg’s sister Mary stood next to her new husband, who was obviously madly in love with her and wasn’t in the least reluctant to show it.

  There before him were the two choices a man could make when it came to marriage, Valbourg realised. To be madly in love with one’s spouse—or barely able to tolerate them.

  He knew which he preferred—but it was seeing the two examples side by side that reinforced his decision and gave him the strength to do what he must. He made his excuses to Lady Susan and her mother and then walked across the room to join his father and the Mathesons.

  ‘Ah, Valbourg,’ Matheson said, ‘I was just saying to your father that the two of you should join us at Twillings next month for the shooting.’

  ‘Thank you, Lord Matheson. We might take you up on that,’ Valbourg said pleasantly. ‘Father, might I have a word?’

  ‘Hmm? Oh, yes, of course, my boy. Excuse us, Charlotte, Matheson. We’ll finish our conversation later.’

  With a jovial smile, his father fell into step beside him. Valbourg said nothing, going over in his mind what he wanted to say. To his surprise, however, his father spoke first.

  ‘Thank you for rescuing me back there, my boy. I wanted to get away from Matheson, but wasn’t sure how to go about it diplomatically.’

  Valbourg glanced at his father in surprise. ‘I thought you liked him.’

  ‘I do, but the tension between him and Charlotte is unbearable. You can’t get within twenty feet of them and not feel the antipathy. Pity they ever married. I don’t believe there was ever any genuine affection there.’

  Relieved, Valbourg began to smile. ‘Thank you, Father.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For making what I am about to say a lot easier.’

  ‘Eh? And what is it you intend to say?’

  ‘That I have decided to go with Catherine, if she’ll have me.’

  ‘Go with her?’ Shock and something akin to fear registered on the older man’s face. ‘You can’t go with her. You’re my heir!’

  ‘Yes, but since you cannot approve of what I’m doing and I am going to do it anyway, I thought I might as well say goodbye now and have it over with. You’ve made it very clear how you feel. The choice is you or her...and I’ve chosen her.’

  ‘Damn your eyes!’ Alderbury said, though the words lacked conviction. He sat down heavily in the nearest chair and rested his elbows on his knees. ‘I never thought it would come to this. I thought you of all people would respect my wishes. That you would do the right thing.’

  ‘I almost did. I know what is at stake, Father,’ Valbourg said in a low voice. ‘I know how much the family’s honour means to you, just as I know that one day I will be the Marquess of Alderbury and carry all the responsibilities that go with the title. But seeing Lord and Lady Matheson tonight brought the truth home to me and made me see what’s important in a man’s life. It made me realise that if I do the right thing, I might well end up like them. A worse fate I cannot imagine. I’m sorry to go against your wishes, because I truly have no desire to antagonise you or abandon the estate. But I will not be forced to marry against my wishes,’ Valbourg said. ‘I love Catherine with all my heart and I know she loves me. She is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. Knowing that, how can I propose to someone else and expect to enjoy any kind of happiness or satisfaction in the future?’ He glanced in the direction of the Mathesons, who were even now standing with their backs to one another. ‘You said it yourself, Father. They should never have married. Is that what you wish to hear someone say about my marriage in twenty years’ time?’

  Alderbury said nothing, but his defeated look saddened Valbourg. His father had always been so strong; so incredibly sure of himself. Even in the days following his wife’s death, he had not broken down or given way to grief. Sometimes, Valbourg wondered if his father had ever even felt it.

  ‘She came to see me, you know,’ Alderbury said abruptly. ‘Your precious Miss Jones. She came to the house and told me you had asked her to marry you and that she had turned you down.’

  Valbourg’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at his father. So, Catherine had bearded the lion in his den. What a remarkable young woman she was. ‘I suspect she told you why.’

  ‘She told me she knew it would ruin you. She said she was going away because it was the only way she had of sparing you. Then she tore up my cheque and walked out.’

  Valbourg stiffened. ‘You offered her money?’

  ‘I thought that’s why she’d come. When I told her I wouldn’t allow you to marry her, I thought she would ask for money and then take herself off. But she turned me down. Even when I said it was a parting gift, she told me she had no need of it and tore the paper up right in front of me.’

  Valbourg smiled. He could picture Catherine doing that,
standing in front of his father, tearing up his cheque and dropping the pieces on the floor. She would not be browbeaten by him or anyone else. She would state her opinion, tell his father what she thought and then walk away with her head held high and her principles intact.

  Poor Alderbury. He had no idea who he was up against. ‘She is good at making her point heard,’ Valbourg said as he sat down next to his father.

  ‘Yes, she is. But do you know, I respected her for it. It took courage to come and see me. She told me she was in love with you and that it was because she loved you she had turned you down.’

  Valbourg sighed. ‘She refuses to be the cause of my alienation from the family. Or of my losing Sebastian. Apart from the latter, I said it didn’t matter, but she wouldn’t listen. Her mind was made up and nothing I could say was going to change it. Not even a proposal of marriage.’ He glanced at his father. ‘So what did you do after she ripped up your cheque?’

  ‘I sent her away rather harshly, I’m afraid. Then I lay awake the entire night, thinking about what I’d said to you and to her, and wondered why no one would listen to me. But it wasn’t until just now I realised how wrong I’ve been.’

  ‘“Wrong”?’

  ‘Mmm. Seeing Matheson and his wife brought it home to me, too. Very few people know this, Richard, but many years ago, before he met Charlotte, Matheson was in love with a woman who worked on the estate. I don’t remember what position she held. Governess, perhaps, or nursery maid. It doesn’t really matter. What does is that he was madly in love with her and by all accounts she felt the same way. But the old earl frowned on their friendship and sent the girl away. Matheson was devastated, of course. He stopped going out, stopped doing all the things he’d done before he fell in love with her and became withdrawn and angry. Four months later, he married Charlotte Parsons, the woman his father had chosen for him. Sadly, they disliked each other on sight. Likely because Charlotte knew Matheson was in love with someone else, and that he didn’t...couldn’t, I suppose...love her.’

  ‘Did they ever try to make it work?’ Valbourg asked.

  ‘I’ve no idea. Over the years, their mutual dislike turned to hatred and then to indifference. Hence the current state of affairs. Something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I certainly wouldn’t wish it on my own son.’ Alderbury turned his head and looked at Valbourg. ‘I don’t want you ending up like Matheson, Richard. I want you to be happy in your marriage and in love with the woman you marry. The way I was with your mother.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure you actually did love Mama,’ Valbourg said. ‘After she died, you became so remote. So unemotional. You never broke down. Never cried. And I never heard you talk about her again. It was almost as though you erased her from your memory.’

  ‘I tried to...but not because I didn’t care about her. I loved that woman with all my heart,’ Alderbury said quietly. ‘Her death tore me apart. So I tried to forget her and everything we had together. I thought that by not talking about her, the memory would fade. But it didn’t. Nor did my love.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Valbourg said, aware it was one of the most honest conversations he and his father had ever had. ‘I honestly thought you didn’t care.’

  ‘I know, because that’s what I wanted you to think. I was selfish. I discouraged you from talking about your mother because it was too damn painful for me to hear you go on about how wonderful she was and how much you missed her. Because I missed her, too. You never forget the love of your life. And hearing you talk about Miss Jones and knowing you would walk away from me and everything you have rather than lose her just reminds me of how important love is. And of how terrible it is to live without it. So, I take back what I said. Marry her, if you must. You have my blessing.’

  Valbourg could hardly believe his ears. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Quite sure. Is she the woman I would have chosen for you?’ Alderbury shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. But love doesn’t ask who we should fall in love with. It just happens. And so, you must go back to Miss Jones and ask her to marry you again. But this time, tell her your father has no objections. The only thing I would ask is that she give up the stage and become a proper wife to you.’

  ‘I don’t know if she will be willing to do that,’ Valbourg admitted. ‘The stage means the world to Catherine. It has given her everything she has—including her son. How can I ask her to give that up?’

  ‘You are giving up a great deal to be with her,’ Alderbury pointed out. ‘Surely it is not so much to ask that she give up a little to be with you.’

  Valbourg stared down at the floor, quite certain Catherine would not think that giving up the stage was a little sacrifice. ‘I will ask her again and see what she says. Then I will tell her you have given us your blessing...because that is the only condition under which she would accept my proposal.’

  Alderbury raised an eyebrow. ‘It is?’

  ‘You are not the only one capable of driving a hard bargain.’ Valbourg held out his hand. ‘Thank you, Father.’

  ‘Don’t thank me yet,’ Alderbury said, nevertheless gripping his son’s hand. ‘Go and find your young lady and get this straightened out. I have no intention of travelling halfway round the world to see my grandchildren!’

  * * *

  Catherine stood by the dresser and checked the contents of the last trunk. With the exception of the clothes she and Thomas would need for the voyage, everything else was packed. A few small cases would travel with them on board, but the rest would go on ahead for delivery to her new home in Italy.

  Italy! Catherine pressed a hand to her heart as though to still its furious beating. It sounded so far away. So foreign. But she had made the decision to leave England and it was best not to delay her departure. She hadn’t heard from Valbourg for nearly a week and her resolve was weakening. She desperately wanted to see him. It was the longest they had gone without speaking since they had become close, and the loneliness was already tearing her apart. If she didn’t leave soon, she would do something foolish, like end up on his doorstep begging him to take her back. He had obviously taken her words to heart and had moved on with his life. Now she had to move on with hers.

  It was the reason she had stopped reading the society columns. She was afraid of what she might find.

  Of course, fear of seeing his engagement notice didn’t prevent Catherine from thinking about him, or ease the tight knot of pain every time she did. She loved him so much the thought of being away from him was like a dull ache that refused to go away. But that was how matters had to be, and really, there were many positive things about moving to Italy. The warm Italian sun and the fresh Tuscan air. The anonymity of the countryside and the remote villa where she and Thomas would be staying; a place where no one would know anything about her life in London or her past in Grafton.

  She would become plain Mrs Jones, a widow with a child. She had moved beyond the stigma of lying about her past. Part of her reason for going to Italy was to start a new life. If pretending to be a widow made it easier, so much the better.

  ‘Excuse me, Catherine,’ Mrs Rankin said from the doorway, ‘but this just arrived for you.’

  Catherine turned—and felt the air go out of her lungs. A pink rose tied with a white-satin bow. ‘Where did that come from?’

  ‘A gentleman came to the door. He said he had heard rumours you wouldn’t be performing at the Gryphon any more and that he wanted to see you in person. To give you this last rose.’

  Catherine stretched out her hand, aware that it was shaking. ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘In the drawing room.’

  So, the mystery was at last to be revealed. Strange that he would choose her last night in England to do so. Still, better late than never.

  Without a word, Catherine started down the stairs. She practised a dozen opening lines, everything from surprise that he had found her to e
xpressing annoyance that he had kept her guessing so long. In the end, she decided to let him open the conversation.

  On the threshold of the drawing room, Catherine stopped and took a deep breath. Then, lifting her chin, she opened the door and walked in.

  He was standing by the window with his back to her, but she would have known him anywhere. ‘Richard!’

  He turned slowly, his beloved face wreathed in smiles. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Jones.’ He glanced briefly at the rose in her hand. ‘I see you received my final tribute.’

  ‘Dearest man, has it truly been you all along?’

  ‘Of course.’ He walked towards her, his gaze holding hers. ‘I told you no lies when I said I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. You were Flora, goddess of spring. A vision of loveliness in a white gown adorned with pink roses. Then the next time, you were Miss Delacorte; a young lady who wore gowns the same colour as the pink roses she took such pains to grow because she needed them to decorate her mother’s grave.’ He nodded at the flower in her hand. ‘I began to associate you with pink roses, but knowing I could never be a part of your life, I decided to send them to your dressing room, hoping that through them, I might tell you how I felt.’

  ‘But you never enclosed a card or allowed your servant to mention your name,’ Catherine said. ‘Not so much as a word to let me know who you were.’

  ‘I thought it better that way. Then, if we ever did meet, there would be no need for explanations.’

  ‘Oh, Richard.’ Catherine bit her lip. ‘I can’t believe it was you all along. I wondered about it, of course. Every night when the rose arrived, I tried to imagine who might have sent it. But even after we met, I never dreamt it was you.’

  ‘Then my coming here tonight is a surprise?’

  ‘Totally, and in more ways than one.’ A smile trembled over her lips. ‘I thought I was never going to see you again.’

  ‘I know. And you’re leaving for Italy tomorrow.’

  She gasped. ‘How did you know where I was going? Mrs Rankin and Lily were the only people I told and I swore them both to secrecy.’