Catarina saw the Reverend and Mrs Eade arriving and retreated to the drawing room, while Jeremy’s butler showed them into the dining room, where Nicholas had decreed the meeting was to take place. As far as she knew Mrs Eade had not been invited, but it was typical of the woman to insist on coming.
Soon afterwards Sir Ivor and Matthew arrived, Matthew driving a new, yellow-painted curricle drawn by two fractious Welsh cobs. They were so fresh she knew her uncle must have stayed the night at some nearby inn. Then Sir Humphrey appeared, driving a very staid gig. With him was the village constable, looking, Catarina thought, decidedly uneasy. She felt sorry for the poor man, being asked to take action against her if Sir Ivor and Matthew could convince him they had a right to remove Maria from her care.
Nicholas, for reasons he did not explain, had sent the carriage to the village. When it returned it drove straight round to the stables.
Jeremy then appeared, limping slightly and with his broken arm still in a splint.
‘What’s old Nick up to?’ he demanded. ‘I know my brother when he takes it into his head to play a lone hand, but I’d like to know what he expects of us. I don’t want to say anything out of turn.’
‘I don’t expect he’ll permit that. We’ll soon know what is going to happen, no doubt,’ Catarina said, trying to calm him, but feeling anything but calm herself. ‘Just don’t talk unless it’s to answer your brother’s questions.’
Her stomach was churning with anxiety. Would Nicholas be able to convince Matthew he had no right to take Maria away? If he failed, she would be utterly devastated. She had come to love the child as if she were her own, and could not face the prospect of losing her. Nor did she dare contemplate the sort of life Maria would have if she were left at the mercy of Matthew and his father.
Nicholas appeared before her thoughts could get out of control. He was dressed with great formality, in buff pantaloons, a dark blue, perfectly fitting coat, a white waistcoat with white embroidery, and a cravat tied in what Catarina thought was the Osbaldson.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked, and Catarina, unable to speak, nodded and rose to her feet.
He smiled comfortingly, put his arm about her shoulders and hugged her then led her through the hall into the dining room opposite. He ushered her to a chair next to the one he took at the head of the table and gestured to Jeremy to sit the other side of her. Was he surrounding her, protecting her, Catarina wondered a little hysterically? She looked round at the others, clustered at the other end of the table. Staines was standing just inside the doorway, so immobile she soon forgot he was there.
Matthew gave her a triumphant smile.
‘I think we’ll soon convince his lordship and the authorities, in the persons of Sir Humphrey and the constable, that I have a just case,’ he said.
Nicholas rapped on the table.
‘My lady,’ he said, turning to Catarina, ‘it is the child you brought home from Lisbon we are concerned about. Can you tell us about Maria’s birth, when, where and to whom?’
Catarina took a deep breath. When she spoke she was thankful her voice did not tremble.
‘My sister Joanna gave birth on the fifteenth of November last year, in Lisbon. She had previously told me Matthew, our cousin, was the father.’
‘Thank you. And you adopted the child, brought her to England?’
Thank goodness he was not dwelling on Joanna’s rejection of the baby.
‘Yes. Joanna had met and was marrying a Brazilian who was about to return to Brazil.’
‘A very long journey for a young baby,’ he commented, and Catarina admired how he managed to suggest an acceptable reason for Maria’s being left behind.
‘So the child’s birth and parentage are established. Were her parents lawfully married?’
‘Of course we were,’ Matthew interrupted.
Nicholas looked at him, his eyebrows raised. Catarina shivered. She had never seen him with so arrogant an expression on his face.
‘That is the important point, is it not? Where did the ceremony take place and when?’
‘In March last year. Just after Catarina’s husband died. At the church of St John outside Bristol.’
‘At night, Joanna told Catarina.’
‘Joanna preferred it that way. She wanted to keep it a secret.’
No she didn’t, you did, you despicable toad, Catarina thought.
‘And it did not take place, I assume, by banns, since she was not married from the home where she was living. What sort of licence did you obtain?’
Matthew sighed impatiently. ‘What does all this rigmarole matter? I had a licence.’
Nicholas ignored the question.
‘From whom did you obtain it?’
‘The bishop, of course.’
‘And did you reside in the parish of St John before the marriage?’
‘Why should I have?’
‘Joanna did not, either. A common licence can be used only if one party has resided in the parish for four weeks. Also, people under age need proof of the consent of parents or guardians. Joanna was only eighteen, a minor.’
‘She had my consent,’ Sir Ivor interrupted.
Catarina thought he was beginning to look worried. She glanced at the Eades and saw a look of puzzlement on the rector’s face. Mrs Eade was tugging at his sleeve, but he paid her no attention.
‘Mr Norton, you claim your licence was a common one. But marriages celebrated with such must take place where one party has lived for four weeks, and can only be celebrated between the hours of eight in the morning and noon. Yours did not.’
‘Well, it must have been the other sort, then. I forget. Is this important? We were married.’
‘You both signed the parish register at the time I assume, together with your witnesses.’
‘Of course.’
Nicholas looked across at Staines, who slipped from the room. Then he turned to Catarina.
‘You have the letter your cousin sent Joanna, repudiating the marriage?’
Catarina took it from her reticule and handed it to him. He read it out slowly.
‘That was a joke,’ Matthew blustered.
‘Isn’t it time this farce came to an end?’ Sir Ivor demanded. ‘We are wasting time. My son and my niece were married.’
‘And he therefore is trying to control her fortune, now she is so far away and unable to dispute it.’ Nicholas turned round as the door opened. ‘Ah, gentlemen, please come in. Can I introduce the curate of St John’s parish, and the bishop’s secretary? Do sit down, gentlemen.’
They took the seats facing Catarina and Jeremy. The curate placed a large book on the table in front of him. Nicholas smiled and opened it at a page where there was a marker.
‘Here we have the marriage register of St John’s parish. There is no entry of this supposed marriage between Mr Norton and Joanna. Perhaps you wish to verify that fact?’
‘They must have torn the page out!’ Matthew snarled.
‘The pages are numbered, sir, and none are missing,’ the curate told him.
‘Then I have the name of the church incorrectly.’
Nicholas turned to the other newcomer.
‘Sir? What have you discovered?’
‘There is no mention of either Mr Matthew Norton or Miss Joanna Norton in the bishop’s transcripts for that time.’
‘What the devil do you mean? What are these things?’
The Reverend Eade, who had been silent until now, spoke.
‘Each parish is obliged, every year, to send to the bishop a record of all entries in the parish registers. It seems clear to me that if there is neither a record in the register itself, nor in the transcripts, no marriage took place. I have been grievously misled, Mr Norton, Sir Ivor. My lady, pray accept our apologies for associating ourselves with these – I can only call them knaves. I will be preaching a sermon on the wickedness of trying to deceive for monetary gain. Come, my dear, I am leaving, since there is nothing for us to do here.’
/> They departed, much to Catarina’s relief. She did not think she could have endured speaking to them.
Matthew was looking sick, and his father furious.
‘Why did you have to drag me into this imposture?’ Sir Ivor demanded. ‘I believed you, but you’re no son of mine to behave like this!’
He stormed out of the room and Matthew, throwing a glance of fury at Nicholas, who ignored him, followed.
Nicholas was thanking the curate and the bishop’s secretary, and asking them to stay for a nuncheon, but they both said they were happy to have been of assistance in preventing such a miscarriage of justice, but ought to be setting off back to Bristol as soon as possible. Staines showed them out.
Sir Humphrey, who had remained silent throughout, coughed.
‘Well, Catarina, I am pleased it has all been satisfactorily settled. I hope to call on you in a day or so.’
Nicholas glanced at him.
‘I fear that will not be possible, Sir Humphrey. I am taking Catarina with me to Brooke Court tomorrow. We will be married from there, since I doubt she wishes the Reverend Eade to conduct the ceremony after the way he has behaved to her.’
‘I can’t marry you!’
‘Why not? Apart from the fact that I love you and you appear to be fond of me – if your reaction to my kisses means anything – now I’ve told everyone you can’t possibly jilt me. There’s the scandal, too, of my staying in the Dower House when you were unchaperoned. And I made sure to obtain a special licence,’ he added, with a wicked grin.
They were in the drawing room of Marshington Grange after a celebration dinner. Jeremy, saying he was tired and his arm was aching, had taken himself off to bed, but Catarina had caught him winking at Nicholas as he left the room.
‘That’s not important. People will soon know about Joanna, and that Maria is her child, born out of wedlock. That’s an even worse scandal!’
‘If the Regent and his brothers can have children out of wedlock, and acknowledge them, I don’t think your sister’s doing so will be considered so very important.’
‘Her husband might hear. Besides—’
‘Besides what?’
Catarina wished he would not look at her like that. It made her incapable of thinking logically.
‘I told so many lies! You once said you abominated lies more than anything else.’
‘You only told them to protect your sister. I find that completely reasonable and would probably have done the same.’
Catarina felt like being utterly childish and stamping her foot in anger. Why did he have to counter all her arguments and sound so odiously reasonable while he did so?
‘I can’t marry you,’ she repeated.
She was totally unprepared when Nicholas rose from the sopha where he’d been lounging, drinking tea, and came across to her.
‘Then there is nothing else for it,’ he said, and swung her into his arms.
‘What are you doing? Put me down! Nicholas!’
He grinned, carried her out of the room and up the stairs. At the top he turned towards his own room, not the one she had been given.
‘I’ll have to ruin you,’ he said.
‘Nicholas!’
‘I’m not intending to force you, my love. You can tell me to stop at any time. And I promise I will. But you are staying in my bed until morning. Ruined, you’ll be. What will Mrs Eade say?’
She was betrayed into a giggle, then decided he was completely mad, too puffed up with his own success in vanquishing Matthew to care about convention. But being held in his arms, pressed closely against his heart, was such a safe, delicious feeling, it would be unbearable to be forced to leave him. Perhaps after all she could accept his offer.
He dropped her on to the bed in his room and stood, laughing down at her.
‘Catarina, you are such a darling and you’ve had such pain since Walter died. I want above all else to make it up to you. I do love you, unreservedly, and I think I have done since I first saw you in this house. You looked so young and lost in your widow’s weeds. Which reminds me, we can dispense with this gown, I think. Let me be your maid.’
Before she knew what was happening he had removed her gown and shrugged off his own coat. He sat down on the bed and took her face in his hands, looking deep into her eyes.
‘My dear, say you love me.’
Catarina swallowed, and gave in to the inevitable. He knew about all the scandal, and if he didn’t care, why should she? She’d been attracted to him from the first, but having just lost Walter so suddenly, had not recognized the feeling, the desire which had swept through her very soul. She had never been in love with Walter, and had been too young when they married to have suffered any sort of calf love before that time.
‘I love you,’ she managed.
Within seconds, it seemed, he had discarded the rest of his clothing and was removing her shift. He sat beside her and began to roll down her stockings. She shivered at his touch, especially when he trailed his lips down her legs, feathering kisses. He left the candles burning, and the glow from the firelight lit the room, but it didn’t matter, she wanted to look at him. She had never before been naked in front of a man, but the feelings he was causing to flood her whole body made her forget that. When he lay down beside her and began to stroke her body, then to cup her breasts in gentle hands and tease her nipples with kisses, she arched against him, not knowing what she wanted.
He roused her slowly, carefully, murmuring endearments, until she was clasping him and begging for release. When he moved to lie on top of her she gasped, but was ready for him, until, as he began to enter her, he found an obstruction. She felt him pause, but by now was so desperate for fulfilment she urged him on, knowing by instinct what to do. They clung together until the paroxysms which has shaken them slowed and finally stopped.
He was holding her close against his heart.
‘Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have been more gentle.’
‘Tell you?’
‘That you were a virgin. That you have never made love before. That Walter was never a true husband to you.’
She sighed. It was her final secret.
‘He could not, because of an accident. But he was always kind, and very good to me.’
‘I intend to be a proper husband, my sweetest Catarina. I love you, adore you, and want you by my side for the rest of my days.’
By the Same Author
Non-fiction by Marina Oliver
Writing Historical Fiction
Writing Romantic Fiction
The Beginner’s Guide to Writing a Novel
Starting to Write by Marina and Deborah Oliver
A Century Of Achievement
History of Queen Mary’s High School, Walsall
Castles and Corvedale
Local guide to accompany new circular walk
Fiction by Marina Oliver
A Civil Conflict
Campaign for a Bride
Cavalier Courtship
Charms of a Witch
Courtesan of the Saints
Gavotte
Highland Destiny
Highwayman’s Hazard
Lord Hugo’s Wedding
Lord Hugo’s Bride
Masquerade for the King
Player’s Wench
Rebel Heart
Restoration Affair
Runaway Hill
Sibylla & The Privateer
Strife Beyond Tamar
The Maple Leaf Trail
The Baron’s Bride
Wild Heather
The Cobweb Cage
The Glowing Hours
The Golden Road
Veiled Destiny
A Cut Above The Rest
At the Earl’s Command
Courting Lord Dorney
The Accidental Marriage
A Disgraceful Affair
Supervising Sally
As Sally James
A Clandestine Affair
Fortune at Stake
Lord Fordington’s Offer
Mask of Fortune
Miranda of the Island
Otherwise Engaged
Petronella’s Waterloo
The Golden Gypsy
As Bridget Thorn
A Question of Love
Fires in the Forest
Hospital Heartbreaker
Island Quest
Theft of Love
As Vesta Hathaway
Honor and Passion
Cupid’s Shot
As Livvy West
Royal Courtship
Her Captive Cavalier
As Donna Hunt
Forbidden Love
As Laura Hart
Manhattan Magic
Copyright
© Marina Oliver 2010
First published in Great Britain 2010
This edition 2011
ISBN 978 0 7090 9401 2 (ebook)
ISBN 978 0 7090 9402 9 (mobi)
ISBN 978 0 7090 9403 6 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7090 8958 2 (print)
Robert Hale Limited
Clerkenwell House
Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.halebooks.com
The right of Marina Oliver to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
Scandal at the Dower House Page 21