by Mary Nichols
She had acted abominably; it was Emma who had behaved like a lady, remaining calm throughout. Dear Emma! How he hated to see her so unhappy. He would have liked to talk to her about it but whenever he approached nowadays, she shied away like a frightened deer.
In some ways she had changed. She was no longer the bright outspoken defender of her beliefs, no longer unafraid. It was as if the heart and spirit had been drained out of her. Had he done that to her? Had he frightened her with talk of the Mountforests, reminding her of a deception which was totally unimportant to him now? All that mattered was her happiness. Perhaps he should tell her that, but if he did, how could he also refrain from revealing the love he felt for her?
She had mentioned returning to India, though he didn’t see how that was possible because she had no money. Should he give her enough to see her safely there and settled down? She would never accept it from him and besides, he was in financial difficulties himself. He felt tempted to sell Besthorpe House, everything he had, leave England and take her to India himself, make a life there just as Edward Mountforest had done.
That was an impossible dream. He could not abandon his heritage and his responsibilities, Lucy and Sophie. It would be such a dishonourable thing to do, no happiness could come from it. He was trapped.
‘I never thought Dominic would be hen-pecked,’ Lucy said one afternoon when she and Emma were out riding together. It was a lovely sunny day in late autumn; the leaves on the trees in the avenue were turning gold, red and russet, and beginning to carpet the ground. Having spent a good hour cantering across the stubble fields, they were walking their horses companionably side by side back to the house. ‘He looks so Friday-faced, and it is not like him at all.’
Emma, too, had noticed it, even though nowadays she spent more and more of her time in her own room, riding or visiting with Lucy. It was not out of fear, but simply to protect Dominic from another embarrassing scene with Sophie and because she could not look at him without thinking of Sophie in Mr Cosgrove’s arms. She was afraid her resolve not to say anything would melt away.
‘I think he is worried about the Silken Maid, Lucy. It is long overdue. If it is lost, the consequences could be very serious.’
‘Oh, I didn’t know, he didn’t say, but then he always makes light of his troubles. I suppose that means we will have to make economies.’ She smiled. ‘Sophie will not like that one bit. She hates him trading, but she is ready enough to enjoy the proceeds. Look at the fuss she made over that diamond ring. The money that cost would feed the whole family for a year, I’ll wager.’
‘Lucy, you must not say things like that. Sophie is soon to be your sister-in-law.’
‘I do not need reminding of it.’ She laughed suddenly. ‘There is one good thing to come of the loss of the brig. Fergus cannot be sent to India, after all.’
‘Perhaps not, but that doesn’t mean you can start seeing each other again. Dominic knows the truth. He told me he had spoken to Captain O’Connor and he had told him it was you he loved and wanted to marry.’
Lucy looked startled. ‘Why did Fergus do that? He knew we agreed to let Dominic think it was you.’
‘Dominic can be very forceful when he chooses. I expect he did not leave the poor man much choice.’
‘No, but it is of no consequence now. I shall go to him very soon. I will not stay in this house a day after Dominic marries Sophie. She will make my life a misery. If it were not for leaving you, I would have gone before.’
‘Oh, Lucy, I do hope you will not do anything so foolhardy. Whatever would your brother say? He has enough to worry about without you adding to his burdens.’
‘Do you think I haven’t thought of that? I am not so unfeeling, but Sophie makes me very angry with her “do this” and “do that” and one day I shall tell her so. And then I shall go to Fergus.’
‘No, you must not. For Dominic’s sake, you must try and keep the peace. Nor must you see Captain O’Connor again until Dominic has given him leave to speak to you. You must promise me that.’
‘Oh, Emma, I do wish it was you Dominic was marrying. I would be content to wait, if it were.’ She smiled mischievously. ‘At least, a little while.’
She did not wish it any more than Emma herself, and now added to her concern for Dominic was an added worry over Lucy, who had evaded giving her the undertaking she asked for and would be bound to do something very foolish if she were left to her own devices. Lucy and Teddy were of a kind in that respect.
Though he said nothing to anyone, Dominic was troubled. There were many things he found disturbing about his betrothed, traits he had not noticed before: a streak of cruelty, selfishness and a disregard for the feelings of those whose place it was to serve her. Surely a man in love should never find fault with his beloved, but more and more he found himself remonstrating with her, or biting his tongue in an effort to avoid conflict. Was this what his married life would be like?
Why had he never seen these imperfections in her before? Why was it difficult to recall the charming, beautiful girl he had imagined himself in love with? He prayed her contrariness was only a passing phase, nerves over the wedding preparations, which didn’t seem to be going smoothly; she was continually grumbling about dressmakers and lamenting about his carriage in which they were to ride from the church. ‘Shabby,’ she called it. ‘I do think you should buy a new one. I do not want to begin married life paying calls in that old thing.’
He was also worried about the ship and its cargo; he had so much money tied up in it and if it was lost, everyone would have to make economies. He certainly could not afford a new carriage, nor the expensive alterations to the house that Sophie was planning. He dreaded having to tell her, but to let her go on thinking he was not serious about economies would be unkind and come as an even greater shock when she did learn the truth.
Sophie’s reaction to his carefully rehearsed explanation the following day was to fume with anger and disappointment. She had ridden over from the Cosgroves on one of Bertie’s horses and was dressed in a black silk riding habit with a white frilled shirt. Her black beaver hat was swathed in a length of white gauze, the ends of which floated down her back. She stood facing him in the drawing room, tapping her boot with her whip. ‘India!’ she shouted. ‘I am sick of hearing about it. Now you have had your fingers burned, perhaps you will concentrate on behaving like a peer of the realm and not a shopkeeper.’
‘But, my dear, you do not seem to understand. Much of my wealth was tied up in that cargo. If she is lost, I lose a great deal. The goods must be paid for and the crew’s dependants compensated.’
‘Why should you pay compensation? The crew knew what they were risking when they signed on. And as for paying for goods you have not received, that is ridiculous.’
‘I am bound to honour my commitments, Sophie, and that means those things which are not so important must wait a little while.’
‘Meaning I must live in this tumbledown mausoleum and do without a new carriage. You will be telling me next we shall have to live in a cottage.’
‘Would you mind that so very much if we were together?’
‘Now you are being silly. You are a Marquis and I am the daughter of a Viscount, how could we live in a cottage?’
He sighed. ‘Then I must do what I can to come about.’
‘You should never have meddled in something you know nothing about. Papa said you would come to grief over it and he was right.’
‘Is that so? And what does he know of trading with India?’
‘Nothing, that is just my point. Neither do you.’
‘But I have learned a great deal in the last year.’
She gave a cracked laugh. ‘It is a pity you did not learn that ships can be wrecked and cargo lost.’
‘It is a risk everyone takes.’
‘Not everyone,’ she snapped. ‘Gentlemen don’t indulge in trade. A nabob, that’s what you are making of yourself.’ She paused and gave a hollow laugh. ‘Except that nabobs ar
e usually rich.’
‘Why are you so against all things Indian? After all, you have family connections in India.’
‘Who told you that?’ she asked sharply. ‘Oh, it would be the little brown mouse. I might have known she would be a tattlemonger.’
‘Miss Woodhill was companion to a Miss Emma Mountforest, whose father was a Major in the Indian army. She came to me with a very good reference from Miss Mountforest.’
‘I know that, Bertie told me. Unlike you, he thought I ought to know. You have been keeping things from me, Dominic.’
‘No, I was not aware you knew the story and did not want to upset you.’
‘Of course I know the story. Edward Mountforest was a murderer and was exiled to India to save the family name, otherwise he would have been hanged. Papa said he was heartbroken over it and never speaks of it. As far as he is concerned his brother is dead.’
‘I believe he is now. But if your papa never talks of his brother, how do you know about it?’
‘I heard a rumour, oh, it was ages ago when I was a little girl, and asked Papa about it. He told me his brother Edward had killed Lord Arthur Boreham over an argument with a gun. He had arrived on the scene too late to prevent it. He said Grandpapa had a devil of a time persuading Lord Boreham’s parents to drop the charges. They only agreed if Edward never set foot in England again.’
She laughed harshly. ‘The scandal nearly killed my grandpapa. So, you see, any reference from that family is utterly worthless and anyone who associates with them deserves to be tarred with the same brush and that includes your precious Miss Woodhill.’
‘That is grossly unfair, Sophie. I wish you had not said it.’
‘Well, I have. I knew she had come to cause trouble and I was right. You are always cross these days, and finding fault and it is all because of her. I’ll wager she has been turning your head with nonsense about how wonderful India is and how rich everyone is. You would never have risked a second voyage if she had not enticed you. It is her fault you cannot buy a new carriage.’
It was such an absurd notion he burst out laughing. ‘Oh, Sophie, I do believe you are jealous!’
‘Me? Jealous of the little brown mouse? You flatter yourself, sir. I think I would do well to reconsider my decision to marry you, if all you can do is laugh at my sensibilities.’
‘You must do as you think fit,’ he said, becoming serious again as he suddenly realised he did not much care if she called off the wedding.
She looked at him in astonishment. ‘You don’t mean that, do you?’
‘If you think we should not suit after all, then I would not insist on holding you.’
He looked at her petulant face and wished she would take him at his word. The hope was stillborn; she knew she had gone too far.
‘Oh, Dominic!’ she cried, moving over to take his arm and look up into his face, the tears she found so easy to shed standing on her lashes. ‘Why are we quarrelling? I am sure I never wanted to be at odds with you. We should be looking forward to our wedding. Why, it is only a few weeks away and the preparations are almost complete. I did not mean to say I would call off the wedding, truly I did not.’
‘Then let us forget all about it.’ He forced himself to smile and pat her hand.
Her tears disappeared like magic. ‘And you will buy a new carriage?’
He sighed. ‘Sophie, did you not listen to a word I said? With the Silken Maid lost, and I fear she is, there can be no new carriage. And no refurbishment of the house either.’
‘Oh, there is no talking to you when you are on your high ropes,’ she cried. ‘I am going out.’ Then she dashed from the room. He did not go after her; there was no point. He returned to the paperwork he had on his desk.
Lucy and Mrs Standon had decided to take the barouche out to pay calls that afternoon and Emma, left to herself, went to the stables intending to ride Brutus. He was not in his usual stall and she assumed Martin had taken him out for exercise which he did if she was not riding him. Instead of returning to the house, she sat on a bale of hay to wait for his return, intending to help groom him. She had an apple in her pocket. He knew she always brought one and would sidle up to her, nudging her until she produced it.
She loved being in the stables, working with the horses. It was so peaceful and the animals repaid her care of them with affection, whinnying when they saw her. Even the most spirited was gentle with her. It was her escape when life in the house became too difficult.
She had been there only a few minutes when she heard the sound of a horse being ridden very fast into the yard. It was not like Martin to approach at a gallop and she went to the door. Sophie was dismounting from a lathered Brutus whose flanks bore clear evidence of the whip. Emma cried out with horror, as Sophie pulled off her hat and marched off towards the house. She disappeared through a side door as Emma emerged and ran over to the stallion who stood blowing uncomfortably and bleeding from the many weals on his back.
‘Oh, you poor thing!’ she said, putting her arms round his neck. She turned to Martin who had appeared from one of the other boxes. ‘How could anyone hurt a dumb animal like that?’
‘I thought you had saddled him yourself and taken him out, Miss Woodhill,’ he said. ‘I was busy at the back. One of the mares is foaling.’
‘But, Martin, you don’t think I did this? He was gone when I came for him.’
‘Course I don’t,’ he said. ‘I’m not blind.’
‘You saw?’
‘Yes.’ His voice was grim.
‘Why take Brutus when Mr Cosgrove’s horse is in the stall? And why dismount and leave him without making any effort to see he is looked after?’
Martin did not answer, it was not his place to do so, though he shared her sentiments exactly. He unsaddled the horse and fetched out salve and liniment. ‘Let’s see what we can do for him. His lordship won’t like this, not at all he won’t.’
Sophie stormed into the library where Dominic was working. ‘I have just come from the stable yard,’ she said without preamble. ‘I was going to ask for my horse to be saddled, so that I could ride back, but there wasn’t a groom in sight.’
‘I thought you were staying for dinner, Sophie,’ he said, slightly put out that she had interrupted him when he was juggling his accounts to see if there was any way he could manage a new carriage.
‘I changed my mind. You were so cross…’
‘I was not cross, Sophie, unhappy perhaps, that I could not please you. If you are determined to return to Cosgrove Manor, then I will see that your horse is saddled. Martin will escort you, I am afraid I have too much to do here to accompany you.’
‘Never mind that now. That bay stallion of yours is standing in the yard all alone. He’s been ridden too hard.’
’emma rides him most afternoons,’ he said mildly. ‘She knows what she is doing.’
‘Give me leave to doubt it. I think you should go and see for yourself what happens when you let a bruiser like that make free with your horses.’
‘Why, what has happened?’
‘Go and look. I could hardly believe my eyes.’
Mystified, he put down his pen and went out to the stables, where he found Martin trying to bathe the stallion’s wounds and Emma, hanging on its neck with tears coursing silently down her cheeks.
‘What happened? Who did this?’
Neither answered him. Brutus edged away from the hand that was ministering to him and Emma soothed him with gentle words so that he stood still again.
‘I demand an answer,’ Dominic said. ‘Martin, the horses are your responsibility. If you have been negligent…’
‘This ain’t negligence, my lord,’ Martin said grimly. ‘It were done on purpose.’
‘By whom?’
‘Tain’t for me to say, my lord.’
’emma?’ he queried, turning to her.
Before Emma could say a word, Martin rose to her defence. ‘Don’t you go blaming Miss Woodhill, my lord. She didn’t take the hor
se out today. As if she’d do a thing like that!’ He pointed at the bloodied flank of the animal.
‘Then who did?’
Martin and Emma both remained silent. Dominic turned to Sophie and noticed for the first time that she was still carrying her crop and that it was smeared with blood.
It was obvious who had done it, but he was shocked to think that Sophie could go to such lengths. He had let her have her own way over so many things, allowed her to act the mistress of the house before the wedding ring was even on her finger, but thrashing a horse, a beautiful, obedient animal which had never given him a moment’s unease was beyond anything he could have believed of her.
He did not doubt she had done it, though he was at a loss to know why, and blaming someone else was the last straw. He was tied to a woman who was vicious and vengeful, but there was nothing he could do to free himself.
‘Take him into the back stall and do what you can for him,’ he instructed Martin. ‘I’ll be there to help directly.’
Martin turned to obey and Emma released her hold of the horse and stood watching him limp away, the tears still wet on her lashes. Dominic took a step towards her, then stopped. There was little he could he say to mitigate the hurt she must be feeling and Sophie was watching him. ‘I am sorry, Emma.’
‘You are sorry!’ Sophie shrieked. ‘What are you apologising to her for? You should be begging my pardon, not hers.’
He turned to her. ‘I do beg your pardon, I forgot you had asked for your horse to be saddled.’ He turned towards a groom who was crossing the yard with a forkful of hay. ‘Ben, saddle Miss Mountforest’s horse and escort her back to Cosgrove Manor.’ And as the startled man looked round at him, ‘Look lively, man.’
Ben hurried to obey. Sophie gave Emma a look of such venom, it made her recoil. ‘Do not think you will get away with this,’ she said, almost spitting the words. Then, to Dominic, ‘I shall expect to see you at Newmarket tomorrow and look forward to hearing that you have dismissed this…this apology for a lady’s maid.’