The Outrageous Debutante

by Anne O'Brien

  ‘No. You are not,’ she admitted in softer tones. ‘But how could you bear to see her leave like that? Your words were so cruel. I would not have thought it of you, Nicholas.’

  ‘It has to be. There are circumstances here of which you know nothing. Let it go, Judith. And learn from this distressing situation. It will be as well if you do not interfere—don’t, for God’s sake, try to bring us together again—for my sake and for Theodora’s.’

  ‘But I was so certain that you liked each other,’ Judith persisted, guilt-ridden that she might have caused even more distress. ‘More than liked—if you could only get over whatever separates you. Do let me talk to Thea. I thought you loved Thea, Nicholas. I still think it. I think that you have lost your heart to her completely.’

  ‘Ha!’ The laugh was harsh and brief, a mere baring of gritted teeth. ‘Perhaps I have. But no—’ as Judith’s face lit with hope ‘—don’t get involved. It is beyond healing. You must accept it—and allow us to have our secrets. What is there to be gained by going over the same rough ground again and again? I am tired of it all.’ And indeed she saw the pale shade of exhaustion around his mouth, the disillusion and regret.

  And on that bleak pronouncement, he left, for once no easy companionship between the two.

  Judith was left to ponder the results of her meddling. So much hurt and anguish. And yet, when Thea had entered the room, such fire between them. It had leapt to bridge the space, burning all before it. If that were not love …! But then the flames had been extinguished, ground into ashes beneath, it would seem, Nicholas’s careless and cruel heel. Judith was forced to consider that there was indeed no hope. No future. And she grieved for her cousin and her friend. Because without doubt there was a passion there that had been wilfully rejected, for what reason she did not know and could not guess.

  Chapter Twelve

  Some days later Judith woke to a familiar cloud of dark depression. She sat in her bed with her cup of hot chocolate, blind to the attractive picture she made against the pale green furnishings, finding no pleasure in her plans for the day ahead. The brief but explosive liaison between Nicholas and Thea was at an end. She had finally to accept it, still shocked by the anger and bitter recriminations that had assaulted her ears. Furthermore, Judith was now sworn never to interfere again. And even if she did, what possible hope was there?

  She sighed at the collapse of all her planning. But Thea would become the Countess of Moreton in the fullness of time. And Nicholas would probably marry some hunting squire’s daughter with no fashion sense or desire for town life.

  How depressing!

  As she placed her cup and saucer on her nightstand to pick up a sheaf of invitations, her depression was interrupted by her personal maid.

  ‘My lady …’

  ‘What is it, Martha?’

  ‘There is a visitor, my lady. A lady …’

  At this time of day? Tell her I am not available. I am amazed that you would even consider—’

  ‘It is a Mrs Russell,’ Martha interrupted before her ladyship could get into full flow. ‘She says it is of the utmost urgency that she speak with you.’

  ‘Mrs Russell?’ Judith’s mind went blank. ‘Do I know a Mrs Russell?’

  ‘She is definitely a lady, madam. And most insistent.’

  ‘Very well, I will get up. Show her into my boudoir, Martha. Ten minutes.’

  Mrs Russell?

  When Judith eventually emerged into her boudoir a little after half an hour, in a ruffled and lace-trimmed wrap, it was to see a fair, slight lady sitting on the edge of her day bed, certainly not at ease, and holding the hand of a robust lad of some five years who was barely containing his energies amidst such feminine surroundings.

  Judith halted. Then surged forward with a little cry. ‘Sarah. Oh, Sarah.’

  ‘Judith. I know it is unforgivably early—I am so sorry …’

  ‘No, no. I am delighted. I did not realise—I have never thought of you as Mrs Russell …’ Judith flushed at the less than tactful admission. ‘Oh, Sarah, I did not mean …’

  ‘I know. The name of Baxendale has a terrible lasting quality, does it not, in the Faringdon household?’

  ‘Nonsense! I am so pleased to see you. And John. Let me look at you! How you have grown. You were quite a baby when I saw you last.’

  The two ladies embraced with a few sentimental tears. John squirmed away from the kisses. Judith laughed and told Sarah of her own entrancing infant whom she must see and admire in a little while. Another pot of hot chocolate was ordered and John was dispatched to the nursery with a willing nursemaid, who promised him a sugared biscuit if he were good.

  ‘Now!’ Judith sat herself down in a welter of ruffles beside her visitor. ‘Tell me all. What on earth are you doing here? I had no idea of your return. Is Eleanor well? The baby?’ Questions flooded out in typical Judith style. Knowing her hostess of old, Sarah decided to answer all the questions first.

  Finally they were exhausted. ‘So Why are you here? I had thought that you would remain in New York.’ Judith angled her head. ‘I believe you said that it is urgent—and here have I been gossiping on …’

  ‘It might be. It seemed to me that you were the most suitable person to approach …’ Sarah bit her bottom lip in a nervous little gesture which Judith remembered well. ‘First I need some information. Does the … the relationship between Lord Nicholas and Theodora Wooton-Devereux still exist?’

  ‘How did you know about that?’

  ‘Mrs Stamford is a useful source of gossip.’

  ‘Ah!’ Judith returned Sarah’s wry smile. ‘But no, it does not. The attraction is at an end.’

  ‘Thank God! If they never became deeply attracted, the damage can not be as great as I feared—’

  ‘No … it is a tragedy!’ Judith interrupted. ‘You do not understand. They are made for each other. So in love—you would not believe unless you saw them together. But there has been some terrible disagreement. I cannot imagine—and Nicholas will not explain. There is no remedying it. They are both so unhappy—it is all very lowering—and Thea—she is my particular friend, you understand—is pretending that she is quite happy. And she is nothing of the sort! She is quite worn down by it, although she would be the last to admit it. Nicholas has taken himself back to Burford in total gloom and despondency. I despair, Sarah. It is not a relief at all!’

  ‘So you say that Nicholas is back at Burford?’

  ‘Yes. Or at Aymestry. He and Thea had a spectacular argument in this very house not a week ago.’

  ‘And the lady? Is she still in London?’

  ‘With her parents in Upper Brook Street. Allowing herself to be courted most assiduously by the Earl of Moreton.’

  Sarah appeared to think rapidly over the news and with no degree of pleasure as she picked at the fingers of her kid gloves. Finally she looked up.

  ‘Are you quite certain that they love each other?’

  ‘Why, yes. Not a doubt in the world.’

  Sarah nodded as if she had come to a decision. ‘Judith. Will you help me?’

  ‘Of course.’ Judith waved aside any objections. ‘Now, what is it that you wish me to do?’

  ‘I need to meet Miss Wooton-Devereux.’

  ‘You do?’ Judith put down her cup and saucer in surprise.

  ‘Yes. It is essential, especially if there is a serious rift. Can you arrange a meeting between us? Where I can talk to her?’

  ‘Yes. No difficulty at all. I will invite her to come here this very afternoon.’

  ‘It may be that I can put things right between her and Nicholas. Or at least warn her—’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Judith huffed her displeasure. ‘Thea is flirting madly and Nicholas damning all women to perdition, I expect.’

  ‘But I must try. I fear that I may have been the cause of their rift. And if Theodora is innocent … Well, Theodora needs to know.’

  ‘Know what? What is she innocent of? I declare that you are as bad as Nic
holas!’ She leaned over to catch Sarah’s hand in hers, concerned by the lady’s distress. ‘Why do you need to see her? How can you help?’

  Sarah fixed Judith with her calm gaze, returning the clasp of her fingers. ‘I need to see her because Theodora Wooton-Devereux is my sister.’

  ‘What?’ It was almost a squeak.

  ‘Her name is Sophia Mary Baxendale. She is my sister.’

  ‘Well!’ Judith sat back, lips parted. ‘I did not know you had a sister!’

  ‘Nevertheless …’

  And so she is also sister to Edward. Well, now! So that explains …’ Judith had picked up on the nuances of the relationship with remarkable speed.

  ‘Yes, it does. Because if Theodora’s relationship with Edward would not cause a rift between her and Nicholas, I do not know what would. And I, wrongly as it may be, informed Nicholas of the connection through Eleanor’s letter to him. I need to discover from her …’ Her words dried, her eyes dropped before Judith’s inquisitive glance.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It shames me to admit it—but I need to discover if my brother has had any hand in these events, using Theodora as he once used me. Or if she is an innocent, caught up in a cruel twist of fate. Whatever I discover, my sister needs to know the truth about our brother. It is not beyond belief, is it?’

  ‘No.’ Judith rose to her feet to stride to the window and back with a stirring of ruffles, in some agitation. ‘We know of what Edward is capable. But I would never suspect Thea of being involved in anything unseemly.’

  ‘Unseemly? Edward’s actions were far more than unseemly, if you recall. And very manipulative.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘And also, as you most assuredly recall, I too became involved! I became as guilty as Edward in that disgraceful deception. There is no guarantee that Theodora is blameless, that she has not been drawn into my brother’s web of deceit.’

  ‘Oh, Sarah.’ Judith sank down beside Sarah again, hugged her in remorse at the unhappiness that had begun to resurface. ‘You were never as guilty as Edward. How could you be? Oh, dear! How tangled it all is.’

  ‘Yes. And I must do all I can to stop Thea falling into any mischief, now or in the future, dreamed up by my brother.’

  ‘I think it may be too late.’ Judith admitted with a rueful look. ‘Thea said—now, what was it?—she said, “I have been to see him.” I did not understand at the time. But it made Nicholas angrier than ever.’

  ‘Oh. I imagine it would.’ Sarah nodded. ‘It is even more imperative that I speak with her.’

  ‘Well! It is easy enough to arrange.’ Judith rose again to pick up pen and paper. ‘But how is it that she is your sister? Perhaps you would like to tell me a little more of these amazing events while we have something stronger to drink than this chocolate. Perhaps a little ratafia …’

  Judith’s depression had instantly lifted.

  Later that morning Theodora received a little gilt-edged invitation, delivered by hand by a maid who, she informed the lady in breathless haste, had been instructed by her mistress to await a reply. Thea opened it.

  The Countess of Painscastle requests the pleasure of Miss Theodora Wooton-Devereux’s company this afternoon for tea at 3 o’clock.

  Thea tapped the card thoughtfully against her hand. Sat at her little escritoire in the morning room and dashed off a reply before she could change her mind.

  Thank you, Judith. But I will not come if Nicholas is to be there. I am certain that it will be better if we do not meet again. Your dear friend, Thea.

  She despatched it, only to receive another missive by the same maid some little time later. The handwriting was hasty and informal with one careless blot.

  Thea—do not be difficult. Nicholas is back in the country. Imperative that you come at 3 o’clock. Do not disappoint. Judith.

  So it was settled.

  When Thea walked into Judith’s withdrawing room, promptly at three, it was to see her ladyship in deep conversation with another visitor unknown to Thea. They rose to their feet as Thea entered. The lady was older than Thea, in her mid-twenties. Slightly built, fair haired, but not as burnished as Thea’s, blue eyes, but not as deep a hue. An attractive woman, quietly dressed, with a calm composure and confidence. She smiled at Thea as if she might know her.

  ‘Thea.’ Judith spoke. ‘At last. Here is a lady come to see you. From New York. Mrs Russell.’

  ‘I don’t …’ Thea glanced questioningly at her hostess, but the unknown lady kept her attention.

  ‘I am Sarah,’ the lady explained gently. ‘Sarah Baxendale. Your sister. And you are Theodora. I am sorry that we have not met until now.’

  ‘Sarah!’ Astonishment flooded her cheeks with colour.

  ‘I decided that I needed to come to see you,’ Sarah continued, giving Thea time to gather her wits. ‘To ensure that you learnt the truth about our family and our past involvement with the Faringdons, not some terrible mischievous version from Edward. And I think it may be that I need to ask your forgiveness.’

  ‘Well!’ Thea selected her most immediate thought. ‘I asked Edward about you. He said that he did not know where you were.’

  Sarah nodded complacently. ‘Much as I would expect. Edward lied. He knew that I had gone to New York. We have much to talk about, Thea.’

  ‘I think so.’

  Judith went to the door with a quick smile and an encouraging pat on Thea’s arm as she passed. ‘I will leave you two ladies as I am not needed here. I will be in the nursery.’

  ‘How tactful she is being.’ Thea smiled, perhaps a little nervously.

  ‘Yes. Judith has been a good friend to me.’ Sarah now took the time to survey her new sister. Her lips curved into a genuine smile of pleasure at what she saw. ‘How smart you are. And how beautiful. I think that you are very like our mother.’

  Ah …’ Thea laughed lightly, shaking her head at her inability to take in what was happening. ‘How difficult this is.’

  ‘It is. And we have no shared memories to help us through it.’ Sarah’s composed maturity was soothing in itself. ‘Come and sit and I will try to explain why I needed to come.’

  Thea obeyed, but with a sudden frown between her brows as her present predicament swept back into her mind. ‘You warned Nicholas about me, didn’t you?’

  ‘I did. Eleanor wrote the letter.’

  ‘You cannot imagine the extent of the damage it caused.’ There was a chill in Thea’s voice. Here it seemed, sitting in Judith’s withdrawing room, was the source of all her ills.

  ‘Perhaps I was wrong.’ Sarah showed little remorse. ‘But there were reasons. Good reasons. I was afraid.’

  ‘Then tell me. Tell me about my family’s connection with the Faringdons. Because it has broken my heart.’ It was spoken quite matter of factly, but it could not hide the sadness in those glorious eyes or the brief flash of blame.

  ‘Of course.’ Sarah felt the urge to take Thea’s hand as she sat beside her, but resisted. There was a need to build trust between them before this splendid sister would accept any intimacies from her. ‘First tell me this—you have seen Edward?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What did he say to you? I presume that you asked him the same question as you now ask me.’

  Thea took a breath, bringing all the words to mind. And repeated them to her sister in all their bitter detail. Only coming to a halt, to run her tongue along dry lips, as she recalled the damning final condemnation of the man she loved. ‘He said that Lord Henry and Lord Nicholas were content to consign Octavia and her young son to the gutter to safeguard the reputation of the Faringdon name.’

  ‘Thea … What can I say?’ Sarah’s eyes had widened in distress.

  ‘Is it true?’

  ‘It is all lies. Every word of it.’

  ‘But how can I know that?’ It was Thea who stretched out a hand to Sarah for honesty and comfort. ‘Judith and Lord Nicholas will not talk of it. And even if they did, their version would perhaps be quite
as selective as Edward’s. How am I to know what is truth and what is falsehood?’

  ‘I will tell you the truth.’ Now Sarah linked her fingers firmly with Thea’s, as if the unity between them, of blood and the flesh, would prove her veracity.

  ‘How do I know it? I have only known you for fifteen minutes!’

  ‘You must be the judge, little sister. But what I have to tell you is painful and does not cast me in a good light. It shames me to tell you. But you need to know how Edward is skilled at subterfuge and manipulation. He must not be allowed to use you against the Faringdons. For that is what I feared most in New York, when it was impossible to know what had transpired.’

  ‘That is certainly what Nicholas believes.’ Thea huffed a little breath. ‘But Edward has no part in this,’ she assured. ‘I have only met him the once. I did not even know of his—or your—existence until some few months ago when my mother—Lady Drusilla, that is—told me. My meeting Nicholas—that was a matter of pure chance. Or mayhap fate.’

  And Sarah believed her as Theodora sat before her, her heart in her eyes. Without doubt, she loved Nicholas Faringdon. ‘That is good.’

  ‘But Nicholas would not believe me.’

  ‘No. He was wrong, I know.’

  ‘He would not listen. He was so intransigent. Nothing like the sensitive, compassionate man I thought I had come to know …’

  ‘There are reasons, Theodora.’

  So Sarah filled in the missing facts for Theodora. The truth that Edward had so skilfully manipulated. How Edward introduced Octavia as his sister, legally married to Thomas, with a child, at least a year before Thomas’s fraudulent marriage to Eleanor. Thus Octavia should be presented to society as the Marchioness of Burford. Edward claimed the whole estate and title on her behalf and that of her son. Which would have disinherited Eleanor and her child, with all the attendant gossip and social ostracism when the on dit became public knowledge. Eleanor would be cast adrift with no appropriate settlement for her as party to a false marriage. Far from driving them from the door, Henry and Nicholas had agreed that Edward and Octavia take up residence in Faringdon House here in Grosvenor Square.