Encountering only blank faces around the table, she conceded, “But, of course, that is not possible. We must ensure an error is not made. I will go to my chamber and prepare.”
She took her leave to make ready for the journey. She also needed to prepare for the implications of leaving this house.
The agreement forged in Daphne’s greenhouse would end when the coach left this property. So would the promises. In the future she would have to rely on her own resources to hold off Hawkeswell.
Susan had most of the garments packed in ten minutes. Verity thanked her for her service, gave her some of the coins left from Hawkeswell’s fifteen pounds, and dismissed her. Then she tucked her personal items, her hair-brushes and violet water and two haircombs, in the valise.
The door opened and Hawkeswell entered.
She gestured to the valise. “I am all prepared.”
He looked at the valise, then at her. “You are unhappy.”
“I thought we would remain here longer. I thought—” She picked up her bonnet and turned to the looking glass.
“You thought to have more time to convince me of your plan,” he said.
“I think that you should give me the days in Surrey that I would have had here.”
“One day or thirty, it will not matter, Verity. I no longer want to let you go.”
No longer. Her heart sank. Those kisses on the hill had indeed changed his mind. He was going to force her back into this marriage because of a brief pleasure and a passing desire.
She glanced back at him, then returned to tying her bonnet’s ribbons. She was on the verge of weeping.
Her situation was going to be much harder now. She had hoped to be home when the world found out she was alive and well. She had planned to use the months while she petitioned for that annulment seeing to her father’s legacy, and discovering what had become of Michael, and ensuring Katy’s welfare. Just her presence near the ironworks would help, and stay Bertram’s hand as he dealt with those good people.
“Forgive my emotion.” She wiped her eyes. “I see myself living among strangers now, people who have no reason to be kind to me.”
“You fear your future too much. It will not be like that.”
“Are you so democratic, Lord Hawkeswell, that you will permit me to go home, to visit the people I know?”
“I do not see why not.”
“How often?”
“You can go as often as it is convenient for me to take you there.”
“Why do I think that you will rarely find it convenient?”
He revealed no vexation with her. If anything, his expression looked sympathetic. “Because you are obligated to think the worst of me. If you do not, you will never be able to lie to yourself.”
That took her aback. She turned from the mirror and faced him. “I do not lie to myself.”
“You have spent the last two days lying to yourself, I think. You have been telling yourself that you can still convince me to want to be rid of you. You have been telling yourself that accepting this union means victory for your cousin and defeat for you, when it does not have to be that way.”
“I may still be angry with my cousin, but my obligations to him, and his authority over me, are over no matter what happens, so that anger does not signify anymore.”
“Then I must assume that the anger still in you is directed toward me, for being a party to Bertram’s scheme. You do not want to give me victory either.”
“I do not want to give the scheme itself victory. Nor should I have to. You pretended to understand that, but it was only one more ruse to get what you wanted and put me off my guard.”
He half smiled. “Ah, you have been lying to yourself. Not only are you still claiming that you did not like that pleasure, which is a blatant falsehood; now you have been telling yourself that I importuned you on that hill, as part of the grand plot.”
She glared at him.
“Did you pick through the memories carefully before concluding that, Verity? As you weighed my nefarious behavior, did you relive the pleasure of my mouth on your breast and my hand on your—”
“Most certainly not!” She flushed. “You are a scoundrel. I know your game, however.” She snatched up her valise and strode to the door.
“You may think that I am a scoundrel, Verity, but I am also your husband. And if there is a game at work here, I have already won.”
Chapter Ten
“Should this not be determined by a judge of one of the high courts, Mr. Thornapple? I agreed to hold this new inquiry because the disappearance occurred in this county, but since there is no body, my duties are unclear.”
“In such cases, sir, there are no regularities, due to the situation being so rare. I begin with you today, and will then bring your determination to the King’s Bench for an official declaration of death. As you say, the circumstances began here, and a local inquiry is as good a place to start as any.”
Verity heard the exchange as the door to the library opened. The inquest was under way.
Hawkeswell paused at the threshold. She watched him scan the group who attended the proceedings.
“There is, as you know, a presumption of the continuance of life when a person goes missing,” the coroner said. “Hence the tradition of waiting seven years.”
She had expected an aging country squire to serve as county coroner, not a fashionably dressed man no more than thirty years of age. This was a good property, and his library, which served the meeting, had tasteful furnishings and handsome bindings.
Mr. Thornapple cut a courtly figure himself, with his white hair and impeccable grooming. A solicitor of humble origins, he had been one of the few men her father trusted completely.
Mr. Thornapple cleared his throat. “The point of law that applies is the balance of probabilities, and that negates the presumption of which you speak. If a ship goes down, there is no longer a presumption of the continuance of life for the crew that goes missing afterward. There is no wait for seven years to pass before their estates can be settled. The balance of probability says the crew drowned. Hawkeswell’s bride went missing, and evidence of her demise in the Thames has accumulated. Furthermore, if she still lived, surely she would have made her existence known by now. What other choice would she have, unless she wanted to starve? Furthermore—”
“I must interrupt, sir,” the coroner said. “I see that Lord Hawkeswell has arrived. Join us, Lord Hawkeswell, since this inquiry is at your request as well as Mr. Thornapple’s.”
Heads turned toward the door where they stood. Verity did not see Bertram or Nancy, and the sick tightness in her stomach eased.
A dark-haired woman dressed all in lilac smiled brightly at Hawkeswell. Verity recognized her as Colleen, who had first introduced Bertram to her cousin, in the interests of helping Hawkeswell solve his financial problems.
Hawkeswell took Verity’s arm and escorted her toward the desk where the coroner sat. “It was at my request, but I must withdraw it now. There is no need to continue.”
“My lord, it is time to resolve this,” Thornapple said in a tone both exasperated and confused. “You yourself encouraged me to—”
“The inquiry is unnecessary because my wife has finally been found alive and well, as you will see.” He positioned Verity squarely in front of the coroner. “Please remove your bonnet, Verity.”
She untied the ribbons and removed it. Mr. Thornapple gaped, then gave Hawkeswell a very severe stare.
“This is the young woman, Mr. Thornapple?” the coroner asked. “Do you know her on sight?”
“I do. It is she, Verity Thompson, heiress to Joshua Thompson’s estate.”
A wave of mumbles and exclamations flowed behind her.
Mr. Thornapple’s expression changed from astonished to angry in a blink. “I should like to know where she has been these two years. Did you hide her away, Lord Hawkeswell? I cannot think of how that would benefit you, unless you thought this dramatic revelation would be amusin
g one day.”
“It would not benefit me in the least, as you know better than anyone. I discovered her whereabouts by accident less than a week ago. I would have informed you at once, but I did not anticipate that you would find success in requesting a new inquiry so quickly.”
“Fortunately, not too quickly,” the coroner mused. “A day sooner and I might have found the balance of probabilities indicated she was dead.” He scrutinized Verity, but not too critically. He seemed fascinated by the development, and not sorry to be hosting an event that would be the talk of the county by nightfall. “Where were you all this time, Lady Hawkeswell?”
“In Middlesex.”
Mr. Thornapple all but spit. “Then you could not have missed the fact that your death was presumed.”
“What were you doing in Middlesex? How did you come to be there?” the coroner asked.
“That is between my wife and me,” Hawkeswell said. “For your purposes today, her living, breathing body is enough, don’t you agree?”
“More than enough.” The coroner could not hide his amusement. “I would say we are most thoroughly adjourned.” He stood, and bowed to Verity. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Madam. Thornapple, let me offer you some brandy before you have apoplexy. Lady Hawkeswell, allow me to introduce you to some of your neighbors. Many were at your wedding, I expect, but you have probably forgotten their faces by now.”
The sounds of moving bodies churned behind her. Mr. Thornapple positioned himself right in front of her and Hawkeswell. “I expect some answers.”
“In due course,” Hawkeswell said curtly. “We should be in London soon.”
Mr. Thornapple’s anger melted into something more troubled. He peered at Verity hard. “Is there anything that you want to say to me now, Lady Hawkeswell?”
I ran away because I did not consent freely. Should she tell him that, here, now? Would it make a difference if she did?
She looked around. The neighbors were dawdling, loath to leave a performance that had proven far more entertaining than they expected when they wandered here to pass the day. Most eyes were on her and Hawkeswell, but the coroner’s brandy was being sampled by several men who had decided the shocking surprise called for fortification of their senses.
“I thank you for being a true steward of my property these last years,” she said to Mr. Thornapple. “I indeed had reasons for not making myself known to you sooner. However, as Lord Hawkeswell said, they will be revealed in due course. I do not want to make this more of a theatrical event than it already is. I look forward to calling on you in London very soon.”
Mr. Thornapple’s nod turned into a bow. He took his leave.
Verity braced herself, and turned to Hawkeswell. He had heard what she said. His expression appeared much like it had been when they left Airymont. If there is a game, I have already won. The cost had been high, however. His neighbors examined her with curiosity, but the looks they gave him contained too much amusement for a man’s pride.
“There is no way to remove you without greeting them,” he said, indicating the people between them and the doorway. “We will make quick work of it. God knows I have no desire to be the dancing dog any longer.” He led her into their midst.
Smiling mouths. Curious eyes. Surreptitious glances of mockery at Hawkeswell. Precise etiquette in every case, and elaborate expressions of relief. They all knew there was a very good story here, and hoped for a tidbit at least, and refused to drift away like they should.
Colleen waited on the outskirts of the group. She embraced Verity when, finally, Hawkeswell made it to her.
“Dear girl,” Colleen cried. “What a relief to see you, and to learn at last that the worst did not happen. Do the Thompsons know?”
“We have not yet informed them,” Hawkeswell said. “Perhaps you will do that for us. Please discourage them from coming down here, however. Verity does not need to be entertaining family so soon.”
“I will write to them at once, and be firm on that. It would hardly do to host family now, no matter how excited they may be.” She embraced Verity again. “I hope, however, that you will allow me to call. I could be of help, perhaps, as you take on your duties at Greenlay Park.”
She appeared sincere, and Verity did not relish navigating Hawkeswell’s estate without advice. She had not known Colleen well, except as the cousin of Hawkeswell and the person to introduce him to Bertram. She suspected that Colleen’s kindness in befriending Bertram and Nancy had been exploited by them more than this pretty lady realized.
“Please do call. I will be grateful for your advice.”
“But not that of your mother,” Hawkeswell said, taking his hat and gloves from the butler. “We will go to her when it is time. I do not want her interfering now.”
Colleen swallowed an impish smile that said she understood why anyone would want to avoid her mother.
Hawkeswell handed Verity into the coach. For the first time on this journey, he entered behind her. Verity saw why. The other people at the inquest had decided to depart right now too, so they could watch the resurrected countess and her earl a bit longer.
“Will they send out riders to cry the news?” she asked.
“In their own way, yes.” He checked his pocket watch. “Their letters will reach London late tomorrow. We will wait it out here for a few days, before braving it out in town. Most of society will be long gone from London, of course, so you will never hear most of the talk.”
“There will still be questions. What do you intend to say in response?”
“Damned if I know.”
Not the truth, then. She could tell that this little drama embarrassed him. The coroner’s humor and Mr. Thornapple’s suspicions were the least of it. Those curious eyes, impatient for the details, had heralded what was to come.
He would hardly want to admit that his bride had never freely consented to marry him, so had run away and hid for two years until she came of age to have standing in a court of law. On the other hand, he could not lie and say she had lost her memory, even if she agreed to the ruse. Perhaps he would simply say nothing.
She watched the Surrey countryside that they passed. She had not noticed its beauty on the way to the coroner’s house. She had seen nothing at all the last two days alone in this carriage. The entire journey had been passed in an effort to maintain her composure and to prepare for the shock her arrival would create at the inquiry.
Now she realized that this county possessed a lush richness. A palette of greens decorated her view, with some dark browns in fields revealing good land for farming. Flowers flourished too, in beds at even modest homes, and as sprays of wildflowers running over low hills and roadsides.
They passed a small farmhouse blessed with many such blooms, but the summer display could not hide the house’s bad condition.
“That family needs a new roof,” she observed.
“They do not only need a new roof, but also a new floor. Improvements in irrigation would increase the yield of the land they work too. Regrettably, the man from whom they lease that land has not been able to help, much as he might like to.”
She could tell from his tight tone that he was the man in question. They were on his land now. “Can they at least sustain themselves?”
“Barely, and only because I took no rent two years ago, when the crops all failed for lack of warmth.” A man walking down the road toward the farmhouse waved at the coach, and Hawkeswell waved back. “I have known that farmer my entire life. His people have been here almost as long as mine, for generations. I was educated to see him as a responsibility, and not only as a tenant. His fortunes depend on mine as much as they do the sun.”
“It was the same between my father and his workers, even if the bond did not go back generations. To his mind their welfare was his responsibility. He knew that others who owned mills did not believe that, but he did.”
He smiled at her reference to her home, and her past. “It appears we have something in common after all,
then.”
She rather wished they did not. She had assumed two years ago that he wanted her money to live in high style, not to put in new irrigation and build new roofs. More had compelled him than the chance to buy expensive indulgences, however.
That did not alter what had happened. It did not make her situation any more right or fair. It merely made it hard to blame him.
“Verity, I hope that you do not mind that I told Colleen she could write to your cousin,” he said. “That would be better than receiving a letter from a ghost, I thought.”
“I do not mind. It was not my intention to write to him at all.”
“If you do not want to write, then I will do it. In a few days, so the surprise is well digested first.”
“As you wish.”
“He will probably want to see you.”
“More likely he will want to see you. He will want to ensure that whatever the two of you agreed still stands. Promises were made, I am sure, that are important to him.”
She did not have to look at him to know that he did not like that reference. His displeasure came to her through the air. It was odd how that happened. His moods could sometimes be felt now, even if he did nothing to express them.
“You should see him, Verity, if he comes down to London, whatever his true reasons for doing so. You said he did not mourn, but you really do not know that. He is your family, and some amends are in order for what you did. Apologies at least.”
His scold angered her so severely that she barely kept her composure. She gave her attention to this man who refused to understand just who had to apologize to whom.
“I will not apologize to him or to anyone else. If you are determined that I must see him, I want your promise I will never be alone with him or his wife, ever.”
He found her demand interesting. Or else her anger surprised him enough that he forgot his own. She was not hiding her emotions about Bertram well, and she heard her voice speak in hard, brittle tones.
“Verity, surely you do not—”
Provocative in Pearls Page 11