by Barker, Ann
‘The girl you married was Gabriel’s mother.’
Ashbourne nodded. ‘Laura Vyse. She was two years older than I. With hindsight, I have to wonder whether she and my father were actually in love, although, to give the devil his due, I am convinced that he never behaved improperly. I was married in the April of 1768, you were born in August when, as I thought, your mother died. Gabriel was born the following May. His mother did die at his birth. But yours lived on. Did she … was she…?’
‘Was my mother happy?’ Michael thought back. ‘She was content, I think. My stepfather was always kind to her.’
‘I’m glad of that. You are like your mother in many ways,’ Ashbourne went on, looking at him thoughtfully. ‘Your colouring and your bone structure, for instance. I would have known you for her son anywhere. Your manner has something of her gentleness as well.’
‘My sister is like her,’ Michael told him.
‘I should like to meet your sister,’ said Ashbourne, his expression softening.
All at once, Michael’s suspicions hardened again. ‘If you dare—’ he breathed, getting to his feet.
Ashbourne also rose. ‘I make every allowance for your prejudices, but that is going too far,’ he said firmly. ‘I am in love with my wife and, even if I were not, I don’t believe I’m depraved enough to seduce the innocent child of my first love who must be almost young enough to be my granddaughter.’ He paused, looking at Michael’s fists clenched by his sides. ‘I warn you, you’ll not catch me unawares again. If you hit me, I’ll give as good as I get. My father would have said that you had coal-heaver’s shoulders. You get them from me, you know – as does Ilam.’
Michael laughed reluctantly, unclenching his fists. ‘I beg pardon, sir; also for hitting you—’
Ashbourne waved his hand dismissively before Michael could finish his apology. ‘There’s no need,’ he said. ‘Your reaction was quite understandable. I rather admired your spirit. Did you box at university?’
Michael nodded. ‘I didn’t have a lot of money to spare, but I found the work quite easy. I used to trade essays and translations and the like for boxing and fencing lessons.’
‘In any case, it would be foolish to brawl in here,’ Ashbourne observed. ‘There isn’t enough space – and it would be a tragedy if that were damaged.’ He walked over to the table in the window and picked up Michael’s bowl with what the clergyman could see at once was an expert touch. ‘Roman, I believe. It’s a fine specimen. Where did you get it?’
‘An elderly neighbour, James Warrener by name, left it to me in his will.’
Ashbourne’s face lit up with recognition. ‘Warrener! The old rogue. I knew him well, although I hadn’t seen him for a good many years. Wait though. I remember getting a letter from him telling me about a lad from the village who had a feel for pottery. That would have been you, I suppose.’
‘Indeed, I think it must have been.’
‘I’ll have to look it out and show it to you.’
‘He also gave me this book,’ said Michael, as he went to the bookshelf to get his copy of Tom Jones. As he was doing so, Ashbourne remembered something that Warrener had written in another letter.
None of my family is interested in antiquities, so I’ve planned to leave my entire collection to that young lad I told you about. He’s got his own way to make in the world, and it would help him a good deal. He has a way of handling pottery that reminds me so much of you….
It might be worth sending his man of business to discover whether his old friend had really left Michael only one bowl.
A few minutes later, Janet came in from the kitchen. ‘Good evening, Reverend,’ she said, dropping a curtsy. ‘Mrs Davies sent me—’ She broke off as she caught sight of Lord Ashbourne. ‘Excuse me, my lord,’ she said, curtsying again. ‘I didn’t see you at first. Mrs Davies wondered whether you gentlemen’d like something to eat, and if’n you want to eat here or at the Hall. I know you didn’t feel up to having anything much this morning, Reverend.’
Ashbourne raised his brows. ‘Like that, was it?’ he said, strolling over to his son’s side. Michael returned his gaze. There must have been some similarity in their expressions, for Janet looked from one to the other and said quite involuntarily, ‘Oh, my goodness!’ Then she coloured. ‘I beg your pardon,’ she added, in a mortified tone.
‘Not at all,’ Ashbourne replied. ‘You are one of the first to see me and my son side by side. It must be rather an alarming sight. As for food, I’m not sure that I could eat anything at present.’ He cast his eyes up in the direction of the bedroom.
‘Begging your pardon, my lord, but it will do Lady Ashbourne no good for you to be fading away,’ said Janet diffidently, still eyeing the two of them in fascination.
‘Lord and Lady Ilam will be back in a few minutes,’ said the earl. ‘We’ll decide then.’ They both sat down again.
After she had gone into the kitchen, closing the door behind her, the earl looked at Michael who was still staring at him in astonishment. ‘What is it?’ Ashbourne asked.
‘I never expected to meet you,’ Michael replied simply. ‘I certainly never thought that you would acknowledge me.’
‘I’m not ashamed of you,’ said the earl.
For Michael, his words were like a blow to the stomach. He had tried never to think about his natural father. When he had done so, he had dismissed him as a libertine who had callously deserted his mother. This now appeared to be untrue. Nevertheless, Lord Ashbourne had lived a life of dissipation and he, Michael, had fully expected to be in the position of looking down on him. Yet, within a short time, he had walked into this man’s house, behaved like a mannerless boor, and knocked him down in front of his pregnant wife. Then he had come home, drunk himself into a stupor, and insulted the woman he loved, probably beyond all forgiveness. He had received a letter of complaint which would more than likely result in his dismissal. With all his virtuous intentions, he was now the one whose behaviour was in question, yet Rake Ashbourne said that he was not ashamed of him.
Michael sprang to his feet, drew the letter from inside his coat, and threw it at Lord Ashbourne. ‘Not ashamed of me? Well, you should be. Believe me my lord, I’m certainly ashamed of myself.’
Ashbourne read the letter. ‘Have you any idea who is responsible for this complaint? Whom have you offended?’
Michael looked at his father’s face, and realized that here was one man who would never be shocked by the things that he disclosed. He knew an impulse to divulge his suspicions, to tell Ashbourne all about his first meeting with Evangeline, his love for her, and his fears, but something held the words back. He couldn’t bear to speak of her betrayal. In the end, he said hesitantly ‘I don’t know … I’m not sure … I did wonder whether you—’ He broke off mid sentence, looking at his father rather self-consciously.
Ashbourne shook his head. ‘I would never call upon the bishop to deal with my disputes,’ he said. ‘Besides, you only knocked me down yesterday, remember? There would hardly have been time for me to compose a letter and for the bishop to write back. Have you no other ideas?’
‘I suppose there is Miss Leicester,’ said Michael reluctantly. ‘I think that perhaps she might have had hopes.’
‘Do you indeed?’
‘Well, she kept offering to iron my vestments and she wanted us to address one another by Christian names. I had to discourage that and I think perhaps she may have been hurt. But I cannot believe that she would behave in such a way.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Of course there is Miss Belton. She persuaded her parents to bring her to my services, even though they do not live in this parish.’
‘Interesting,’ murmured his lordship. ‘Anyone else?’
Michael coloured. ‘There is Miss Granby, of course. She has been angry with me at times, and … well …’
Lord Ashbourne smiled. It was not an unkind expression. ‘Dear dear! For a virtuous clergyman, you do appear to have rather a lot of young ladies running after you, don’
t you?’
Michael raised his chin. ‘What are you implying, my lord?’
‘Only that you might be glad of the help and advice of a reformed libertine, my son,’ he drawled.
Perhaps fortunately, at that moment Lord and Lady Ilam returned. There followed a discussion concerning what to do about dinner. Lord Ashbourne, quite understandably, was reluctant to leave the cottage, but it did not seem fair to expect Janet to serve all of them in the only room available. It was agreed that Michael, Gabriel and Eustacia would return to Illingham Hall to eat whilst Ashbourne remained at the cottage.
‘I have no appetite for a large meal,’ the earl declared. ‘If Janet can provide me with some bread and cheese then that will be more than sufficient.’
‘There is some wine, my lord, if you would like some,’ said Michael rather self-consciously.
‘You are very kind,’ Ashbourne answered, gravely inclining his head.
‘Very well,’ Gabriel answered. ‘One of us will come back later.’
As the three of them were leaving, Ashbourne touched Michael on the arm. ‘Tell him,’ he said, looking towards Gabriel. ‘He is your brother, after all.’
Chapter Eighteen
Gabriel had not missed the low-voiced remark that his father had addressed to Michael and, when they got back to Illingham Hall, he encouraged his wife to take a little longer than usual in dressing for dinner, so that he might have a chance of speaking to his half-brother alone.
He was not to be disappointed; Michael was well aware of the fact that Ilam ought to be informed. After a few moments’ hesitation, he took the bishop’s letter out of his pocket and handed it to the viscount without a word.
Gabriel frowned. ‘Do you have any idea of the nature of this complaint?’ he asked eventually in an even tone. Michael shook his head. ‘This is disgraceful. I have heard nothing but praise for you since I returned. I would like a word with the bishop myself.’
Michael drew his shoulders back. ‘I must beg you not to trouble, my lord,’ he said a trifle stiffly.
‘I don’t know who else should trouble himself with this matter, for God’s sake. You are the curate resident in my village and you minister to my people. And if you call me “my lord” once more, I might have to deal with you in the same way as you dealt with Raff the other day.’
Michael smiled faintly. ‘I wish you wouldn’t,’ he said. ‘Trouble yourself, I mean.’
Gabriel looked at him with narrowed eyes. ‘You know who wrote it, don’t you? You are doing no good by protecting them.’
Michael turned away to look down into the fire. He hadn’t told Lord Ashbourne; he couldn’t tell Gabriel either.
Gabriel crossed the room and gripped his shoulder firmly. ‘I’m not going to pry. We’ll find a way of dealing with this, never fear.’ As Michael looked up at the other man, he was conscious of a feeling inside that he could only describe as a kind of glow. It had begun in the cottage when he had told Ashbourne his troubles. He did not want to face this alone. Suddenly, to his relief, he realized that he didn’t have to.
When dinner was over, Gabriel returned to the cottage to wait with his father, whilst Michael sat in the drawing-room with his sister-in-law, drinking tea. ‘Poor Raff,’ she said, in sympathetic tones. ‘How he must hate being so close to Jessie and not being able to help her.’
‘Do I take it that it was a love match from the beginning?’ Michael asked her, remembering what Raff had said about Jessie.
‘He snatched her from under the very nose of Henry Lusty,’ said Eustacia with a smile.
Michael drew his brows together. ‘I knew, but I had forgotten.’
‘I must say, I’ve always wondered why Mr Lusty wanted to be the vicar here after all that had happened.’ She stared at Michael. ‘Did he know that you were Raff’s son?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Michael answered. ‘I didn’t know myself.’
‘If he did, it makes one wonder about his motives in appointing you.’
Michael said nothing in response, but remembered the measuring way in which Lusty had looked at him in the bishop’s palace. Why had Lusty taken him on as his curate?
Just as they were thinking of retiring, Gabriel returned with the news that Lord and Lady Ashbourne had a baby daughter. ‘Mother and baby are both doing well, I understand,’ he said, pouring some wine that he had sent for in order to celebrate the occasion. ‘I wasn’t allowed in.’
‘Of course not,’ Eustacia replied. ‘She will be far too tired to see anyone but her husband for now.’
‘I am glad that Lady Ashbourne’s baby is safely delivered,’ said Michael a little self-consciously. ‘Has a name been chosen?’
‘If it has, I haven’t been told. I’ve sent a groom to Granby Hall with the news. I’ve said that we’ll go ourselves tomorrow.’ Ilam lifted his glass. ‘To our little sister,’ he said.
Michael shook his head in bewilderment, but he did lift his glass. It was slowly dawning upon him that he had acquired a family.
Michael and Gabriel walked to the cottage the following morning in order to pay their respects. As they reached the top of the stairs they could hear voices behind the half-closed door of Michael’s room and, upon entering, they found Lady Ashbourne sitting up in bed, with a rich russet and gold shawl about her shoulders. Lord Ashbourne was in a chair at his wife’s side, a book in his hand. He was in his shirt sleeves, his black hair loose and draped about his shoulders. As Michael and Ilam entered the room, the earl and his countess had been laughing at something that his lordship had read. Observing his father as he rose to his feet, the laughter dying out of his eyes, Michael acknowledged for the first time what a very handsome man he was.
‘We’ve come to congratulate you on a safe delivery, ma’am,’ said Ilam, smiling as he walked over to the bed to press a kiss on Jessie’s cheek.
‘Thank you, Gabriel,’ said her ladyship.
‘You too, sir,’ said Ilam, extending a hand to his father.
‘Thank you, Ilam,’ Ashbourne answered, grasping the hand extended to him. ‘It was an arduous experience, but I’ve come through it pretty well, I think.’
Michael stood in the doorway, watching the scene taking place in front of him. When silence fell, he realized that all the occupants of the room were looking at him. ‘My congratulations,’ he said a little stiffly.
‘Thank you,’ Jessie answered, and held her hand out to him. Only a churl could have refused her, and despite his ambivalent feelings towards his father, Michael was not a churl. Gabriel made room for him at the head of the bed. Michael took Jessie’s hand and, after a moment, raised it to his lips. There might have followed an awkward moment, but for the entrance of a nursemaid, carrying the earl and countess’s new daughter.
‘Would you like to hold her, Gabriel?’ Jessie asked.
With all the confidence of a father of a child of four months, Ilam took the baby from the nurse. ‘One forgets how tiny they are,’ he said, smiling reminiscently. ‘Look.’ He turned to Michael, who touched the baby’s hand with one finger. Instantly, the tiny fist closed about the finger with surprising strength.
‘Remarkable,’ murmured the clergyman. He looked up and instantly his eyes met those of his father.
Soon afterwards Gabriel and Michael set off for Granby Park, mounted on two horses that had been brought to the cottage by one of Gabriel’s grooms. When they arrived, they were greeted by Theodora, who explained that Mrs Granby had not yet come downstairs, but that Evangeline had gone shopping with Amelia Belton and Lieutenant Fellowes.
‘I’m surprised that she left without waiting to hear about the baby,’ said Gabriel, frowning slightly. Michael frowned as well; his disappointment was only equalled by his jealousy.
‘She was very sorry, but I think that she wanted to buy her father something,’ Theodora replied. ‘He is due to return any day.’ She and Evangeline had agreed the previous night that they would tell Mrs Granby that Evangeline had gone to visit the new baby. It was
clearly impossible to make this excuse to two gentlemen who had just come from the cottage and would know it to be a lie. Theodora judged there to be very little risk. Mrs Granby never appeared before noon, and there would be no chance that they would all meet.
She had judged without the incentive that Mrs Granby had from her husband’s imminent arrival. The gentlemen had not been there for more than a quarter of an hour when their hostess appeared in the doorway and greeted her visitors warmly. ‘You will be surprised to see me, no doubt, but I am hoping that Granby will be home today,’ she said. ‘What a shocking thing it would be to be found abed when he arrives. How is the new baby? Is Lady Ashbourne well?’
‘The baby is safely delivered, and mother and baby are both well,’ Gabriel answered.
‘I know that it is no use my asking you what she looks like,’ said Mrs Granby, smiling. ‘Gentlemen never notice such things, do they? I shall have to rely on Evangeline’s description when she returns. Has Theodora offered you wine? We must toast the baby’s health.’ She turned away to ring the bell, and did not notice the look of puzzlement that passed between the two men, or the frantic signalling from Theodora, indicating that they must not say anything.
The wine came, the health of the baby and her mother was duly drunk, and the four occupants of the room made polite if rather stilted conversation. Michael was just wondering how to manipulate the situation in order to have a private word with his sister so that he could discover the meaning of this confusion, when Mrs Granby excused herself, declaring that there were duties awaiting her.
‘I must make sure that cook is ready to prepare Granby’s favourite dishes,’ she said. ‘Theodora will see you out.’