by Anne Herries
‘I understand you are to marry soon,’ the Regent had said to him. ‘We do like our ambassadors to be married gentlemen if at all possible—but perhaps the idea would not suit the lady you intend to make your wife?’
‘I am not positive that my marriage will go ahead,’ Brock had replied uncertainly. ‘I hope to have my answer shortly. What is the position, sir, if I should accept the post but remain unmarried?’
‘We should be delighted to have you, even though we prefer married men,’ the Regent replied. ‘But I hope this offer is not the cause of dissent between you?’
‘Not at all, sir.’ Brock was silent for a moment. ‘The right kind of wife would enjoy such a posting, for I know it can be very agreeable in that region. However, Miss Langton dislikes change and we have been unsure of our feelings for a while. I await her decision.’
‘Yes, of course,’ the Regent had agreed. ‘Only thing a gentleman can do if the lady is unwilling.’
‘We should want an answer in the next six months,’ Wellington had put in as Brock was silent again. ‘This post comes vacant in the New Year when old Carrington retires. I should have liked to offer you something in Europe myself, but this post was coming vacant. In time I hope that you may be given Austria or Germany. Europe is settled for the moment, but who knows how long that state of affairs will remain? I should like a good man in Austria. Or even Canada.’
‘Your faith in me is very pleasing, sir.’
‘Well, we don’t want good men disappearing into the depths of the country. You all turn out for a war and then go back to your cards and your fishing, and we need clever men behind the scenes.’
Brock had inclined his head. He was well aware of Wellington’s views. The British Empire was far flung and it was difficult to predict where the next upheaval would come from. They had defeated Napoleon Bonaparte, this time it was hoped for good, but the great general’s instinct was telling him that there would be other areas of conflict soon enough.
‘I have thought long and hard about this matter. As you know, my father is still young and fit and I shall not be called upon to take charge of the estate for some years. I do not feel that my leg would stand up to the rigours of army life on the march and therefore a diplomatic career would suit me well. I believe I shall accept this posting whether or not as a married man.’
He’d left the palace feeling pleased with life. There was plenty of time to see Rosemarie settled and, once the matter of his marriage to Cynthia was sorted out, he could put his own affairs in order.
Brock knew that his feelings towards Cynthia had changed since he’d made his gallant if impulsive offer. At that time he’d seen her as a beautiful young lady who would make him a comfortable wife. Now, he knew instinctively that she would not suit him. He did not wish to spend the next twenty years of his life moving between the country and London, with occasional visits to Paris or Scotland. Brock needed an active life, a life that was worthwhile, and serving a province as an ambassador of the Crown would be rewarding. Relations with the wealthy maharajahs who ruled the various regions of India were often difficult to maintain and it would call for patience and skill to keep things smooth in the years directly ahead. Britain still had great influence in that country, but times were changing and it needed a steady hand at the heart of things to keep the boat steady.
A smile touched his mouth at the thought of the life he envisaged. His mind was made up, his promise given. He must tell Cynthia that he could not live his life to suit her, that it would better if they parted by mutual consent. He’d told his father of his intention to be an ambassador by letter some weeks ago, but would call at his home after his interview with Cynthia. Brock knew that his mother would be disappointed if the wedding did not go ahead, but his father would understand. He did not particularly like the wealthy young woman, whom he thought of as spoiled, and would be proud that Brock wanted to go on serving his country even though his army days were over.
Well, it was time he went to bed. He drained his glass. A slight frown touched his forehead as he threw down his dressing robe on the nearest chair. Samantha had seemed a little subdued that evening. He thought it might have something to do with Barchester, for he had noticed her speaking with the Marquis and looking uneasy. He supposed the man might have asked her to marry him again, for he knew that Barchester was one of her most ardent suitors. He suspected that she might have rejected him and caused either anger or distress, which would have distressed her.
Perhaps he ought to have asked her before this, but he was not in a position to speak as he would had he been free. Things must be settled with Cynthia first. Samantha was a good friend and always would be, but he had no right to think of her as anything else or interfere in her private affairs. She was not a young and vulnerable girl and she had many friends to stand by her. He was not even certain that she would wish him to be more than a good friend. Her manner had never given him reason to hope, though sometimes a look in her eyes seemed to promise more, but he might be allowing himself to hope in vain.
Smiling ruefully, Brock went to bed. He had a journey of two days before he could speak to Cynthia and receive his answer. She might have made up her mind that it would suit her to be the wife of a diplomat and that would make things uncomfortable because Brock knew that he could never marry her now. Yet somehow he did not think Cynthia would want to cling to a man who did not intend to live the kind of life she needed. His heart felt a little lighter as he reflected that when he returned to town he would be a free man.
Chapter Eleven
‘What is wrong, my love?’ Samantha asked when Rosemarie returned from meeting a friend for a shopping expedition that morning. ‘You look upset. Did you have words with Miss Bentley?’
‘Not exactly,’ Rosemarie replied, but looked as if she might burst into tears. ‘She asked me about Mama—if it was true that she and Papa were not married.’
‘No! What did you say?’ Samantha asked, her throat catching. It was her worst fear. Someone had begun gossiping about the girl’s background and she feared that she knew who it must be.
‘I told her that my father was married to a lady who was unwell in her mind and that he could not divorce her because of his religion. I said that Mama was his wife in all ways but one and that he had adopted me to give me his name. What else could I say? It would be wrong to lie, would it not?’
‘Yes, it is wrong to lie,’ Samantha agreed. ‘Even if you had, it must have come out. Once people have the story it will spread like wildfire—and...’ She hesitated, looking at Rosemarie sadly. ‘I fear you may find that some people—the haughty dowagers who rule society—decide to cut you.’
‘Yes, I know. Maddie told me that her mother was shocked by the rumour. She was hesitant about allowing Maddie to go shopping with me, but relented when Maddie cried and begged her not to turn against me. However, once Maddie tells her the story is true, she may not wish to know me.’
‘My true friends will not cut us,’ Samantha said fiercely. ‘And I do not care for the others.’
‘This will reflect on you, will it not?’
‘You must not worry about me,’ Samantha said. ‘I have many good friends and they will not care. Brock does not care, does he? Nor will his friends, I assure you. It is just some of the ladies.’
Tears stood in Rosemarie’s eyes. ‘Oh, I should not have imposed on you, Samantha. I do not wish you to lose your friends because of me and my circumstances.’
‘Dry your eyes, my love. As I’ve told you, our true friends will not regard this gossip. I wish Brock were here to advise us, but in his absence I think we should do nothing. We must carry on regardless and ignore those ignorant people who think that something not of your making matters.’
‘I should go away,’ Rosemarie said. ‘Oh, I wish Robert would come. He would take me away and marry me. He does not mind that my mother was n
ot married when she gave birth to me.’
‘Nor will anyone who matters,’ Samantha assured her. ‘Do you think you could bear to tell me more of your mama’s history? Have you any idea when your father and mother met—was it before his wife was sent away to the asylum or after?’
‘Oh, after, I am certain of that,’ Rosemarie said, and blew her nose. ‘Papa told me that my mother would never have consented to be his lover if she had not known that Lady Ross would never recover from her terrible affliction. He had tears in his eyes as he told me the story of how he was lonely for several years and then he met Mama and suddenly the world seemed bright again.’
‘Yes, I see.’ Samantha mentally made a note that Barchester had lied to her. Had he lied to others? Clearly if Lady Ross had been locked away some years before the affair began, she could not have known of her husband’s affair.
‘Papa continued to visit the—the asylum...’ Rosemarie faltered, her face pale. ‘Even up to the week before he died. He made sure that she was properly cared for, because he told me that if she were left with no visitors she might be neglected. She would not wash or dress herself and had to be fed, and she tore her clothing. She was quite mad. Papa did not resent her, he pitied her. He said that he and her brother were the only visitors she ever had.’
‘Lady Ross had a brother?’
‘Oh, yes, Papa told me so. He said that his wife’s brother hated him and blamed him for his sister’s condition, but it was not so—the affliction came from her mother’s family, though he understood it had missed a generation.’
‘I see.’ Samantha frowned. ‘You do not happen to know the name of Lady Ross’s brother, I suppose?’
‘Papa did say it once. I think he may have been a Marquis, but I cannot recall his name. It was an old and respected family, I know. Papa said that his wife’s grandmother had been locked away for most of her life and that the family had hidden the truth. Had he known he would never have married into the family, even though she was an heiress.’
‘Yes, I see.’ Samantha was very much afraid that she did, but how to prove it?
If as seemed likely to her that Barchester was Lady Ross’s brother, he might feel very angry that she had been put aside and another lady put in her place, even though that other lady had never been given her title. If his family had hidden the fact of madness for generations, he would not want it generally known. If Samantha could find proof of his sister’s identity... Of course, it must be in the parish records at Falmouth. Her name would have been recorded there when she married Lord Ross, unless they were married elsewhere, of course.
Unless she was inventing the whole thing, out of a desire to stop these malicious stories. Yet she’d seen something in his eyes that told her he was angry and meant Rosemarie harm—and the story Rosemarie had told her was plausible. If Samantha had guessed the truth, it would be recorded somewhere.
Somehow, Samantha must obtain details of that marriage and then disclose them to Barchester. If he knew that his own family’s shocking secret could be revealed, he might stop whispering about Rosemarie’s. Yet it might already be too late to protect the girl.
How Samantha wished that Brock was here to advise her. She was certain that he would know how to discover the truth—and how best to use it.
Since she had only her own wits to rely on she must begin the search herself. She could employ an agent to help her—or perhaps take someone Brock trusted into her confidence. They were entertaining some friends to dinner that evening and Captain Cameron was amongst them. Perhaps she should speak to him and ask him if he could either find her an agent or seek out the truth himself.
* * *
‘If you wish I will challenge the rogue to a duel,’ Stuart Cameron declared, his handsome face showing his outrage as she disclosed her story to him. ‘How could he start such a whispering campaign against an innocent young girl? It is wicked. The man is a rogue.’
‘It is most unkind and uncalled for,’ Samantha agreed. ‘However, I do not wish you to shoot him, sir, merely to advise me how best to turn the tables on him. To make him fear exposure and thus retract his wicked stories.’
‘And you think the afflicted lady was his sister?’
‘I think that may well be the case, but as yet I have no proof. Rosemarie could not recall his name, but she knew that her father’s wife had a brother, or perhaps a half-brother? It might be that the affliction came from her mother’s family and not from his. I would think he must have been her junior by some years. Perhaps his father was widowed and remarried?’
‘Yes, I quite see that you can make no accusations until you are sure. I shall go down to Falmouth and make some discreet enquiries tomorrow. If I discover the truth, I shall come back and tell you—and then confront him for you.’
‘It might be better if I did that, sir. I think it might come easier from me. He would undoubtedly deny you and challenge you to a duel. He cannot challenge me or think to silence me by shooting me.’
‘He might silence you by other means,’ Cameron said doubtfully. ‘A man like that might be dangerous. In fact, I wonder...’ He shook his head as she questioned with a lift of her brows. ‘No, I would rather not speculate at this moment. When will Brock be back?’
‘He said a few days, but I suppose that depends upon Miss Langton.’
‘Yes, I dare say it may,’ Cameron said thoughtfully. ‘You were right to consult me, Mrs Scatterby. I am very fond of Miss Ross and determined to protect her—though for my part I care nothing for this wretched scandal. What difference that her parents were not wed? She is an innocent girl and it is unfair to destroy her reputation for something that was not her fault.’
‘I do agree with you,’ Samantha said, feeling that she had made a good choice in admitting Cameron to her confidence. ‘Thank you for offering to help us. I believe you will do so much better than an agent.’
‘I shall do my best for you,’ he promised. ‘You were always generous, Mrs Scatterby. Miss Ross is lucky to have such good friends.’
‘Well, we are fond of her,’ Samantha said. ‘And now I must let you go or Rosemarie will be wondering what has kept me so long.’
He bowed over her hand and went out into the night. Samantha frowned as she turned and went up the stairs to her bedchamber. She hoped she’d done the right thing, but what else could she do? If her theory was right, she might be able to stop the gossiping and save Rosemarie’s reputation before it went too far, though why people should blame the girl for her mother’s sins she did not know. Yet it was the way of society and some people would be genuinely shocked and disgusted to learn that Rosemarie was a bastard. Any hope of marrying into an aristocratic family was lost, but that hardly mattered since the girl had no wish for such a marriage.
Samantha just wished that Brock were here so that she could ask him if she’d done the right thing. Yet she must not rely on him too much or expect him to dance attendance on her and Rosemarie. He had his own life to lead and no doubt his fiancée would wish him to be at her side more often if they had set the date of their wedding.
* * *
‘I am sorry, Cynthia, but my mind is set on becoming a diplomat. I believe it would be for the best if we parted now, by mutual consent if possible?’
‘I believe I ought to return this to you,’ Cynthia said, and slid the beautiful and very expensive engagement ring he’d given her from her finger. ‘I have talked things over with Mama and she thinks it would not suit me to be forever travelling here and there to foreign places, so I am glad that you are able to accept my wish to end the engagement in this way.’
‘I am very sorry if I have hurt you,’ Brock said, but pressed the ring back into her hand. ‘This was not an heirloom, but bought for you, Cynthia. Please keep it and give it to one of your daughters when she is grown, or to a friend if you had rather.’
‘How
kind of you. I shall keep it in case I have a daughter,’ Cynthia said, a faint blush in her cheeks. ‘Since we are being frank I must tell you that in a few months I shall be announcing my engagement to Lord Armstrong. It will be of short duration since I hope to be wed before Christmas.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Brock nodded, understanding why she had wanted time to decide; she’d wanted to be sure of Armstrong before giving him his marching orders. What a lucky escape he’d had! ‘I must congratulate him and wish you happy, my dear. I believe you will have a more settled life with the gentleman you have chosen. He is indeed fortunate.’
‘I believe he thinks so,’ Cynthia said, her cheeks pink. ‘I shall tell you that had you taken up politics I should have stuck by my word and become your wife. Lord Armstrong says that he will take his seat in the upper house and gather his political friends about him. We shall be often in London and entertain men of some importance on the political scene. Of course, his dear mama will accompany us, and we shall keep her company in the country as much as we can, but she is to employ a young girl as her companion, and my own dear mother is a great friend and will be visiting frequently once we are married.’
‘I see that you have arranged it all,’ Brock said wryly. ‘I wish that you might have told me what was in your mind before, Cynthia.’
‘You must not think I took this decision lightly,’ she replied. ‘I am most sincerely grateful to you for what you did for me last year and I believe we might have done well together, Major, but Mama thought, and I agreed, that it was wrong for me to become the wife of a man who intended to spend most of his life in other countries.’
‘I see. Then I shall bow to your mama’s superior wisdom.’
‘No, no, you must not be cross with her, Brock,’ Cynthia said, and gave him a delightful smile. ‘She knows me so well, you see. I love London and I adore entertaining—but I also love my family, my friends and the English countryside and I should have been unhappy. I believe I might have ended by resenting you for taking me away from all that I love and so I think my decision was the only one I could make. Please say that you will forgive me?’