by Mary Nichols
Louise registered that fifteen years ago was the time her father had moved to Barnet and wondered if that could have any bearing on his decision, though half of her was still thinking about the service she had just remembered. She must have gone to dozens of such services from the time she was able to take her first steps, probably every Sunday, maybe twice on Sundays. Why had that particular one stuck in her memory?
‘Sir,’ she asked, plucking up her courage, ‘do you know of a family called Fellowes?’
‘To be sure I do. I thought you must know it too, since you showed such an interest in the church. Fellowes is the Earl’s family name.’
Only Jonathan’s hand under her elbow kept her upright. Somehow she found composure enough to thank him and walk out of the church into the sunshine and fresh air. Her mother had mentioned Catherine Fellows as if she knew her well and Louise had concluded the unknown lady was her mother. But had she been wrong in that? It was difficult to believe she came of that stock. On the other hand, it was just like the aristocracy to give away a child to save the family from disgrace. Her head was full of questions, questions she was afraid to ask. Could the family she had remembered seeing in church be the Earl and his wife? Then what was her connection with them and with the little boy? Where was he now? Did he know about her?
Jonathan, sticking close to her side, had only a hazy idea of what was going through her mind, but she had turned very pale and there was a strange faraway look in her expression that he found disturbing. She had been trying to keep whatever it was from him ever since he had come upon her, and Mrs Vail had been less than forthcoming, so what was the secret the family was hiding? A connection with the Earl of Moresdale, perhaps, but not one that could be acknowledged.
‘The Dowager Countess will open the fair tomorrow,’ the parson went on, unaware of Louise’s tumbling thoughts. ‘The Earl used to do it, but he has not resided at the Hall for some time. I believe he has business affairs that keep him in London. May I enquire your interest in the family?’
‘I have heard my father speak of them,’ Louise said, endeavouring to sound casual. ‘He was the incumbent here many years ago. And as I was visiting York, I decided to take the opportunity to look round the village.’
‘Apart from the church and Moresdale Hall, there is little to see, though there are some fine walks in the hills, if you like walking.’
‘We do, indeed,’ Jonathan said, to help Louise compose herself. ‘It is one of the reasons we came to the area.’
They said goodbye to the parson and left the church to return to the bustle of the preparations for the fair. ‘You did not expect that, did you?’ he queried.
‘Expect what?’
‘That your Catherine Fellowes was one of the aristocracy.’
‘I do not know that she is. She may only be distantly related, a second cousin several times removed.’
‘True. So how do you propose to find out?’
‘Stay here awhile and see what transpires.’
‘You do not feel inclined to pay a call on the Countess?’
‘Certainly not. I should not be so presumptuous.’
‘You are afraid,’ he said bluntly.
She was saved from answering by Joe and Betty, who were making their way towards them, carefree and laughing.
‘How did you fare at the inn?’ Jonathan asked him
‘No room, my lord,’ Joe said. ‘Not for love nor money.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Louise said. ‘I suppose we shall have to return to York.’
‘But I want to come to the fair tomorrow,’ Betty wailed. ‘It’s going to be a grand affair, with all manner of contests, bowling and races and a treasure hunt. Joe said he would enter them all.’
‘Did he?’ Jonathan asked, looking at Joe. ‘You are assuming I shall not need you.’
‘Will you, my lord?’ he queried, head cocked to one side.
‘No, but there is the matter of accommodation.’
‘I noticed an inn in the last village we passed through,’ Joe said. ‘It’s called the Shepherd’s Crook. We could go back and try there.’
‘Then let us go and see what they have to offer. If the accommodation is reasonable it would be better than going all the way back to York,’ Jonathan declared.
The inn, three or four miles back along the road to York, was small but clean. Jonathan’s title and the fat purse he proffered was enough to persuade the innkeeper to consult his wife in whispers about how they could be obliged. ‘We can let you have two rooms, my lord,’ he said, coming back to them while his wife disappeared in a flurry of petticoats. ‘If you and your good lady would sit in the parlour and take a glass of something, I will have them prepared for you.’ He ushered them into the parlour. ‘What shall it be? I have ale, cognac, wine or cordial. We are always well stocked for the Moresdale Fair.’
Louise and Betty chose cordial and the men ale, and once they had been served the innkeeper, who told them his name was Jeremiah Winter, left them to themselves. ‘Jonathan,’ Louise whispered urgently, ‘he called me your good lady.’
‘I know.’ He grinned at her.
‘You must tell him at once that he is mistaken.’
‘Mistaken? You mean you are not good, not a lady, or not mine?’ he teased.
‘Not yours. Not your wife.’
‘But even if you are not my wife, you could still be my good lady.’
‘I could not! How dare you suggest such a thing? If you think that I agreed to your escort in order to become…’ she floundered ‘…your good lady, then I am afraid you are under a misapprehension. I would like to repay your kindness, but I would never agree to that.’
He had spoken without thinking; it had not occurred to him she would jump to the wrong conclusion. ‘I never meant to imply any such thing,’ he said. ‘Your company and the adventures you fall into have already repaid my small outlay. It is something I would not have missed for the world.’
‘I think I hate you,’ she said.
‘Only think, Louise? You are not sure?’
‘Well, I should like to, but you make it very difficult.’
He laughed aloud and, in spite of herself, she found her own lips twitching. ‘Oh, you rise to the bait so prettily,’ he said.
‘I am not in the mood for jests,’ she said sternly.
He straightened his face. ‘Then I beg your pardon. We will be serious. Tell me how I may please you.’
‘By explaining to the innkeeper that we are not married.’
‘They might wonder at that. Shall I be your guardian again?’ He had a way of looking at her closely and smiling that smile of his that made her melt inside. She must be strong, more especially since she had discovered he was a Viscount. Viscounts were way above her touch, as her papa had hinted to her mother during that fateful conversation. As if she could not have thought that out for herself!
‘Say whatever you like, as long as they know I will not share a bedchamber with you.’
‘Pity,’ he said, with an exaggerated sigh.
‘You are the outside of enough, Lord Leinster. And if you can find nothing else to do but tease, I shall take myself off.’
‘Where to?’
‘For a walk.’ She rose and left the room. He followed, turning to Joe on the way. ‘Tell the lady of the house we will be back shortly and will require supper.’
Once outside, he tucked her hand beneath his elbow and held it there. ‘Let us walk together and I promise I will not tease you again.’
There was a steep slope at the back of the inn and a well-worn path meandered upwards. They took this, walking side by side in silence. The greeny, brown grass of the hills were picked out with patches of mauve and pinkish white heather, the white of the sheep and the dark grey of the craggy rocks that littered the hillside. Apart from the singing of a skylark, there was no sound, except their footsteps, crunching on the gravel.
‘I am sorry I teased you,’ he said at last. ‘It was meant to make you smile, but I s
hould have known better, when you are so worried.’
‘Am I?’
‘You know you are. In the last three weeks I have come to know you very well. I know all your moods: happy, mischievous, sad and worried, and at this moment you are worried. I would help you if I could.’
‘I do not see how you can.’
‘Try me. Whatever you tell me I will keep to myself.’ There was no teasing in his voice now; it was gentle, caring. ‘It does not take a genius to realise it is all to do with Catherine Fellowes. Who and what is she, Louise?’
She turned to face him. Keeping the truth from him was pointless. It was not as if they had a future together, whatever the outcome. And he had been so kind and helpful, rescuing her from her scrapes and buying her beautiful clothes, and keeping her company when she might have been lost, not to mention risking his life to arrest Jed Black. She might have said she would like to repay all he had done, but she knew she could not. He deserved her confidence. She took a deep breath. ‘I think she is my mother.’
‘Mother!’ he exclaimed.
‘Yes. I have only recently learned of it.’
So that was what she had overheard! ‘Are you sure?’
‘No, but I need to find out.’
‘And your father?’
‘I do not know who my father is. I am praying he is Catherine Fellowes’s husband. Otherwise it means…’ She could not go on.
‘Oh, you poor dear,’ he said, drawing her down beside him on a rock beside the path and putting his arm about her. He should have been shocked, but all he felt was a great tenderness towards her and a need to reassure her. ‘Do you want to tell me about it? I might be able to help.’
‘I don’t see how you can, but you deserve to know the truth.’ She went on to explain everything, how shocked she had been, how sad and angry both at the same time. ‘I was sad to learn that the two people who brought me up from babyhood, whom I have loved and honoured all my life, are not my real parents, and very angry that they kept it from me all these years.’
‘No doubt they had their reasons. Did you not think to ask them?’
‘I might have done if they had been at home when I calmed down, but they must have gone out immediately after their discussion. There was no one in the house to talk to, so I hit upon the idea of trying to find Catherine Fellowes myself. I know it was impetuous and wrong of me, but once I had set out, there was no going back, and to be truthful, I did not want to. I want to understand why my real mother parted with me. What made her give me away? I cannot rest until I know,’ she cried.
He did not comment, but it seemed to him that either Catherine Fellows was unmarried and had disgraced the family or she had been cuckolding her husband. Neither theory boded well for Louise’s future. He knew many men openly had mistresses, his own father for one, and nothing was thought of it, but for a woman to take a lover and bear illegitimate children was another thing entirely. If Louise were the result of an illicit liaison, no man of consequence would have her for a wife. She must either content herself with marrying one of the lower orders or take her place in the demi-monde. Or remain a spinster all her life. He feared for her. ‘Are you sure you still want to know? Would it not be better to remain in ignorance?’
‘But one day, someone might want to marry me and how could I keep such a thing from my future husband? That’s what Papa said to Mama and he was right. There should be no secrets in a marriage.’
‘Is there someone?’ he asked and held his breath for her answer, realising his own feelings for her had been growing in spite of himself, in spite of the impossibility of anything coming from it. He reminded himself, as he had been doing over and over again since her illness, when the madcap had become the vulnerable and delightful woman, that he was working on behalf of the Gentleman’s Club and her family, and his own feelings should not come into it. But how could they not? She had found a secure place in his heart and he wanted her to be happy. He found himself wanting to know the truth as much as she did.
‘No,’ she told him with a sigh, knowing the only man who mattered to her was out of her reach. ‘No one. It was speculation on Papa’s part.’
He let his breath out in relief. ‘Then we will unearth the mystery between us.’
‘You mean to stay with me?’
‘Of course. Do you think I would desert you now?’
‘Why have you stayed with me so long?’
He hesitated. ‘Since we are being honest with each other, I must admit that Luke asked me to.’
‘Luke?’ she queried in surprise. ‘My brother?’
‘Yes. He wanted me to see you safe.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘And that has been more of a task than I bargained for.’
Dear Luke. He was the best of brothers. But that meant…‘You knew who I was all along. You knew where I was going and why. You have been playing games with me, Lord Leinster.’ Angrily, she jumped to her feet. ‘You deceived me—’
‘Hold hard,’ he said, taking her hand and pulling her down beside him again. ‘I have no more deceived you than you have me. I did not know who you were when we first met, you were dressed as a man, you remember, though I admit, I was puzzled.’ And here he smiled. ‘No man should have such wide, glorious eyes and long lashes, no man such a neat round derrière and pretty rosy lips. And to think I might have missed you if those highwaymen had not held up the coach at Baldock. I was sure you were far ahead of me.’
‘We went to London to board the stage,’ she said, trying to ignore his compliments and the warm, comforting feel of her hand in his.
‘Why? It went through Barnet.’
‘I did not want to board it where I might be recognised.’
‘I see. So you thought it all out, planned it carefully.’
‘Not carefully enough, if Luke could send you hot-foot after me. And I had no idea where Catherine Fellowes might be found. I should have asked you, should I not? You knew.’
‘No, I did not. Believe me, Louise, Luke never mentioned Catherine Fellowes or your reasons for travelling. I do not think he knew. All he knew was that you had disappeared suddenly and he wanted you found. It was Mrs Vail who told me she thought you might be coming to Moresdale and she did not tell me why. I was simply asked to follow you and bring you safely back to them.’
‘Now you know as much as I do.’
‘Which is little enough, but if you are sure you want to learn more, we will do it together. From now on, there need be no secrets from each other. I am here if you want me. And when the mystery is solved, I will take you back to Barnet because I know your family love you and want you home.’
‘But they are not my real family.’
‘Of course they are. I think they would be hurt to hear you say that. They have loved you all your life, they are more family than ever Catherine Fellowes is.’
‘Yes, I know you are right. I am so confused and troubled.’ She sighed.
‘You could go home now, not wait to find Catherine Fellowes,’ he said gently. ‘It might cause you more grief than joy.’
‘I know that. I do not expect her to fall on my neck, but I have to know. Don’t you see, I must know.’
‘And if she is not in Moresdale?’
‘I will have to think again. But even if she is not, I believe the answers lie there.’
‘Very well. Tomorrow we will go back to Moresdale and delve some more.’ He stood up and held out his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. ‘Come, I am hungry. Let us hope Mrs Winter is a good cook.’
Mrs Winter was a very good cook. The dinner she produced was plain country fare, but well cooked and wholesome. There was soup, roast mutton, jugged hare, pigeon breasts served with broccoli, peas and green salad. And as she and Mr Winter joined them to eat, the conversation was of a general nature, most about the fair, the sheep farming and the different walks they could take into the countryside. The path they had ventured on earlier led over the brow of the hill to Moresdale, they were told, and the view from the
top was worth the climb.
‘Perhaps we will try it while we are here,’ Jonathan said, as the table was cleared and a dish of blackberry tartlets and another of baked apples was put before them. Louise, having bared her soul, felt suddenly light-headed and did the meal full justice. Now that Jonathan was an ally and not a protagonist, they might do better. Two heads were better than one, when it came to solving riddles. But she knew that, at the end, they would part, perhaps never to see each other again, or perhaps to glimpse each other in the distance. She imagined him with a wife and family and then he would forget his little adventure with her, or if he did remember, he would not speak of it, would probably not even admit ever having known her. Her feeling of euphoria evaporated, leaving her miserable. She had to blink away her tears.
Jonathan was himself deep in thought. The tale she had told him had impressed itself on his brain, so that he found himself trying to think of ways in which she might have been mistaken, that the stigma of bastardy might be lifted from her. He wanted everything to come out right for her. And for him.
‘You have had a long day,’ Mrs Winter said, noticing the sudden with drawal of the Viscount and his ward, as if they did not have the energy to continue the conversation. ‘You must be very tired. When you have eaten sufficient, I will show you to your rooms.’
Louise knew at once that the bedchamber into which she was shown was that of their host and hostess. They had given it up for her and Betty because Jonathan had paid them well to do so. Jonathan was allocated a smaller room belonging to their son who was away serving an apprenticeship with a neighbouring farmer. Joe was expected to sleep in the loft above the stables, which he said he did not mind at all. Louise wondered where Mr and Mrs Winter were to sleep.