Lord Portman's Troublesome Wife

by Mary Nichols

  ‘How did Hector come to be here?’ Rosamund asked Harry, as they followed slowly behind Annabelle. ‘You did not ride him out of London.’

  He smiled. ‘You and Francis were not the only ones to follow me. Sir Ashley was hard on your heels with my mount.’

  ‘Is he one of the Piccadilly Gentlemen too?’

  ‘Yes, and a staunch friend. He rode back to town last night to alert the Bow Street Runners to raid that farm. If the coiners are not all already behind bars, they will be before the day is out.’

  ‘Do you think they will try to incriminate you?’

  ‘La, what for?’ he said lightly. ‘I am nothing but a foolish macaroni whom they made look even more foolish.’

  ‘I meant your alter ego, Gus Housman. They will guess who informed on them and if any managed to escape arrest, they will be out for revenge.’

  ‘I am afraid Gus will have to meet his end,’ he said ruefully, remembering Matilda Watson and her threat. She was probably still at large, but there was no need to worry Rosamund about her. He chuckled. ‘’Tis a pity, he came in very useful. But there are other guises; he is not the only character in my repertoire.’

  It was typical of him to make light of it, but she would not be easy in her mind until every last one of the gang had paid for his crime at the end of a rope.

  ‘What will happen to Mrs Chappell and all those children? I could not like her, but the poor woman should not have to suffer for the sins of her husband.’

  ‘I will take care of her.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘You are supposed to be paying her five guineas a month, to keep your sordid secret. We will not give her guineas but smaller coins, enough to bring up her children. Guineas are too much of a temptation.’

  ‘I agree with you on that.’ She paused and then went on, ‘I wish I knew how my father came to have those coins. I do not believe he was one of that wicked gang.’

  ‘I am sure you are right,’ he said lightly.

  ‘Will O’Keefe name him, do you think?’

  ‘What reason can he have for doing so?’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘It will not help to get him off. Put it from your mind.’

  ‘Papa, Mama, watch me,’ Annabelle cried, making her pony jump a narrow ditch.

  ‘Bravo!’ Harry called, as Annabelle, triumphant, reined in to wait for them.

  ‘Harry,’ Rosamund said, gathering her courage, ‘I have come to love your little daughter as my own. It will break my heart to part from her.’

  He turned to look at her. Her eyes were softly appealing, her lips slightly parted. A wisp of hair blew across her face and she pushed it away with an impatient gesture. How could he let her go? She had become part of his life, the person he returned to at the end of the day, the one with whom he most wanted to share his thoughts, his hopes, his plans. She had brought light and life back to Bishop’s Court and given him back his daughter. Could she also banish his demons—given time?

  ‘I had no idea you were planning to leave,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not, but I thought you…’ She stumbled over her words. ‘You seem to have forgotten our bargain.’

  ‘I have forgotten it,’ he said, making her heart falter. ‘It was a foolish idea and one I have regretted making from the bottom of my heart.’

  ‘Oh, then I must go.’

  ‘Is that your wish?’

  ‘Oh, no, you know it is not. I have been happy here.’

  ‘Even though I have been less than a husband to you?’ He spoke softly, reaching across and covering her hand with his own.

  ‘Yes, because I believe there is a very good reason for it. And you are going to explain it to me, aren’t you?’ If she did not take the lead, he never would get round to it.

  ‘Yes.’ He retrieved his hand. ‘Shall we turn back?’

  Francis had left while they had been riding. They ate nuncheon with Annabelle and afterwards the child was sent back to Miss Gunstock, leaving them alone, sitting side by side on a sofa in the small parlour. The time for explanations had come.

  ‘I hardly know where to begin.’ he said.

  She smiled. ‘The beginning might be a good idea.’

  ‘When I met your brother and he told me about you—’

  ‘No, before that, long before that,’ she said quietly. However much it hurt, she was determined to make him open his heart to her. Even if he could not love her as she loved him, she wanted to understand what made him the man he was. ‘Back to when you were young, back to Beth.’

  He sighed. ‘I loved her, you know. When we married I was twenty-four and she was sixteen. I had known her all her life. Both sets of parents approved the match, both wanted grandchildren. In retrospect I do not think either of us was ready for that. Beth was tiny, almost like a doll, her body not yet fully formed. When she became pregnant everyone rejoiced—’ He stopped, his voice faded and his eyes clouded as if he were far away from her. She put her hand over his and squeezed it gently to encourage him.

  ‘All went well, until the birth.’ He shuddered at the memory. ‘It was her seventeenth birthday. We had been laughing together and saying what a grand birthday present a baby would be. Neither of us foresaw how difficult it would be. Beth had always been cosseted, she was not used to pain and the doctors had no patience with her; I could hear them scolding her. They sent me away. I paced the garden, but I could hear her, even there. She cursed me, Rosamund. With her dying breath, she cursed me. She said God would punish me for what I had done to her.’

  ‘She was distraught, Harry. I am sure she did not mean it.’

  ‘But I have been punished. Her ghost haunts me. I cannot bring myself to love again. Dare not, for how can I put someone for whom I have tender feelings through that torture?’

  ‘It is not torture to someone who longs for a child, Harry,’ she said, her heart lifting with joy that he seemed to be admitting tender feelings for her. ‘What is a little pain compared to the joy of holding your own child in your arms? If Beth had lived, I am sure she would have said the same thing. If she had recovered and held Annabelle in her arms and felt her at the breast, she would have regretted those unkind words and begged your pardon.’

  ‘Bless you, my dear. But I was wrong to make that bargain with you. And I cannot forgive myself for it. It was your brother telling me about your predicament after your father died that put the idea in my head. If I could marry a stranger, someone I did not know, could coldly make her with child and beget me an heir, then I might lay the ghost to rest. But then I found I could not do it.’ He paused, waiting for her to castigate him for it, but she said nothing and he went on. ‘I came to know you, to appreciate your qualities and all my reasoning went out of the door. For that I beg your pardon and in return I offer you your freedom.’

  ‘Supposing I do not want my freedom?’

  He turned to look at her to find her smiling at him. ‘But I might never…’

  ‘I am prepared to risk that.’

  He took both her hands in his and looked earnestly into her face, studying every contour, the expressive eyes which told him of her sincerity, the slightly parted lips, the high colour in her cheeks. He leaned forwards and put a gentle kiss upon her forehead. ‘Oh, my dear, I do not deserve you,’ he said. ‘But if you will have patience…’

  She would have all the patience in the world, she promised herself.

  They returned to London the following morning to find Mrs Crossley flying hither and thither, trying to organise their ball and wondering if it should go ahead if the host and hostess failed to turn up for it. Janet was quite sure her mistress had met a dreadful end at the hands of robbers on the road somewhere and was in tears. Harry calmed Mrs Crossley and Rosamund assured Janet she was whole and hearty. When they had refreshed themselves and changed their clothes, husband and wife sat down to a meal together before Harry left to make his report to the Piccadilly Gentlemen.

  He was more content than he had been since Beth’s death. That his wife knew and understood how he felt was a great w
eight off his mind, though it had taken more courage than a little to admit he could not do what came naturally to every man and made him less than a man because of it. They would be companions, sharing their good days and their bad days, without secrets. He was glad he had told her about the Piccadilly Gentlemen.

  Rosamund settled down in the small salon with a book, but it soon dropped into her lap while she sat musing. She and Harry had come to an understanding but that was all it was: an understanding. He had blessed her and said he did not deserve her, but he had not mentioned love, neither of them had, though her heart ached with it. He had loved Beth, still did, she supposed, which was why the memory of her death still haunted him.

  She remembered when he had first suggested marriage he had said, ‘I am not disposed to fall in love again.’ She had accepted that, but she had not, at the time, known the real man beneath the fop, had not expected to find herself falling in love with a gentle, caring, charismatic and courageous man. He made her heart beat faster when he gave her one of his enigmatic smiles. He made her legs weak and her whole body tremble when he touched her. What would it be like to have him desire her, really make love to her, to be told he loved her?

  Sighing, she picked up her book again, but had hardly begun to read when a footman came to tell her that Travers had arrived and wished to speak to his lordship.

  ‘Travers?’ she queried. ‘Is something wrong at Bishop’s Court?’

  ‘I do not know, my lady. I told him his lordship was out. He was somewhat agitated and asked to speak to you.’

  ‘Then send him in at once.’

  A moment later Travers rushed into the room, pulled up short in order to bow perfunctorily. ‘My lady, Miss Annabelle has disappeared. We have searched everywhere for her, all over the house, in every nook and cranny of the grounds—there is not a sign of her. Her pony has gone too.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Rosamund sprang to her feet in alarm. The child was as fearless as her papa and would have thought it a great adventure to ride out alone. But she had undoubtedly taken a tumble and could be lying injured in a ditch. Or worse. It did not bear thinking about. ‘How did you get here?’

  ‘I brought the carriage, my lady. I thought you would have need of it.’

  ‘I will come back with you.’ She gave orders for someone to fetch Harry from Lord Trentham’s. How long would he take to arrive? Should she wait for him or go on ahead? Supposing he was not at Lord Trentham’s, but had gone on somewhere else, perhaps in one of his disguises? It might take hours to track him down. There was no time to waste. She scribbled a note for him and with Janet in attendance, set off to cover the same ground she had covered only that morning.

  The journey, though only a matter of an hour and a half, seemed interminable and night fell before they arrived. Rosamund scrambled from the carriage before the coachman or a footman could let down the step and rushed into the house. Mrs Rivers and Miss Gunstock were in the hall, along with half-a-dozen outdoor servants, obviously in a huddle trying to decide what to do.

  ‘Have you found her?’ Rosamund demanded, looking at their anxious faces.

  ‘No, my lady,’ Miss Gunstock answered her. ‘But her pony has come back alone—’

  ‘She must have had a fall,’ Rosamund said, deciding now was not the time to berate the governess for neglecting her duty or the grooms for saddling her mount and letting her go. ‘She cannot have gone far. We must continue the search. If she is hurt and alone…’

  ‘There is more, my lady.’ This from one of the grooms. ‘The pony had this attached to its saddle.’ He held out a scrap of paper.

  Rosamund took it and scanned it swiftly. ‘Lord Portman, your daughter is safe for now. Bring one thousand guineas to Feltham Farm and she will be returned to you unharmed. Come alone.’

  What she had dreaded had come to pass; not all the coiners had been arrested and whoever was left was determined on revenge. They had seen through Harry’s disguise and were using Annabelle to wreak vengeance. She handed Travers the note. ‘Don’t unharness the horses. I need the carriage. His lordship can follow when he arrives.’

  ‘My lady, I am not sure I should obey you,’ the groom protested, after reading the note. ‘His lordship would not like you putting yourself at risk. It is dark and that road is dangerous and you do not know what lies in wait for you.’

  ‘Annabelle needs me now, not some time in the future.’ She left the house with everyone behind her. ‘I want three men in the coach with me and someone up beside you.’

  He sighed and gave instructions to the biggest and strongest of the men to arm themselves and everyone piled in the coach and they set off towards Hounslow Heath at a swift canter.

  The meeting of the Piccadilly Gentlemen had finished early and Harry had gone from there by chair to Newgate prison and requested to speak to Michael O’Keefe. The whole gang had been arrested at Feltham Farm, caught red-handed doctoring the coins Harry had given them. They were due for an early trial and a one-way trip to Tyburn before the month was up. It gave the Gentlemen, and Harry in particular, a great sense of achievement, but there was still one mystery that had not been solved and for Rosamund’s sake, he would try and solve it.

  Rather than conduct the exquisitely dressed fop through the filthy, noisome prison to the cells, O’Keefe was brought to him in the governor’s office. The coiner stood facing Harry defiantly. ‘What do you want with me?’ the man demanded. ‘Want to satisfy your curiosity, do you, and have a bit of fun at a poor prisoner’s expense? Want me to sing for my supper, do you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Harry said. ‘That is exactly what I had in mind. Sing me the tale of Sir Joshua Chalmers.’

  ‘Sir Joshua Chalmers. Never heard of ’im. Who’s ’e?’

  ‘He was my wife’s father.’

  ‘Oh, now I place you. You’re Lord Portman, him that got robbed on Hounslow Heath a month or so back. Did they ever catch the rascal, my lord?’ And he grinned widely.

  ‘No, I fear not. Do you know him?’

  O’Keefe shrugged. ‘D’you think I would tell you if I did?’

  ‘It matters not. I am more interested in Sir Joshua.’

  ‘What makes you think I know anythin’ about ’im?’

  ‘The Barnstaple Mining Company. You are listed as its proprietor. What did you mine? Gold, was it?’

  O’Keefe laughed. ‘You could say that.’

  ‘What happened?’ When O’Keefe stood stubbornly before him and refused to answer, he went on. ‘You have nothing to lose by telling me; there is enough evidence to hang you already and it would be better to clear your conscience before you meet your Maker, don’t you think? On the other hand, should you be obdurate, I am not particular as to the condition in which I send you back to the cells.’

  O’Keefe laughed his contempt. ‘You! A puff of wind would blow you over.’

  Harry stepped forwards, grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it behind him, pulling it up between his shoulder blades until he cried out in pain. ‘This puff of wind is a tornado, O’Keefe.’ He gave him another sharp tug.

  ‘Leave off, can’t you. I’ll speak.’ Harry relaxed his hold and the man stood rubbing his arm and shoulder. ‘But it’s atween you an’ me,’ he said. ‘If you try bringin’ it up in court, I’ll deny it.’

  ‘I won’t do that. I simply want to set my wife’s mind at rest.’

  O’Keefe looked at him and decided it would be best to comply. ‘I met Sir Joshua at the Cocoa Tree. There’s a lot of business goes on there…’

  ‘I know. Go on.’

  ‘He was bemoaning his investments were not doing well, so I told him about the mining company. He bought into it…’

  ‘With gold coins, I assume.’

  ‘Yes. I don’t know ’ow, but ’e smelled a rat and asked that lawyer fellow of ’is to look into the company and he found it only existed on paper. Sir Joshua asked for his money back.’

  ‘And you would not agree to that, would you?’

  ‘Course not. But
he threatened to go to the law, so we offered half what we paid…’

  ‘In clipped coins,’ Harry interjected.

  ‘Yes, you don’ think we was stupid enough to give him real coins, do you? We needed them.’

  ‘Did he realise they were clipped?’

  ‘Oh, I told ’im, offered ’im a deal, passing the coins. He’d ha’ made a good passer, bein’s he mixed in high society where guineas don’t raise eyebrows, but he refused and said he was goin’ to take ’em to the law. Couldn’t let that happen, could we? ’E had a little accident on the way ’ome. Trouble was we didn’t know where he’d put the money. Had to lie low ’til we were sure the law weren’t arter us and then we meant to search ’is ’ouse. But the lady moved out and took the coins with ’er.’

  Harry did not correct him. He picked up his gloves and hat and went to the door.

  ‘You goin’ to put a good word in for me with the judge, your lordship?’ O’Keefe called after him.

  Harry turned. ‘The only good word for you, Mr O’Keefe, is dead.’ He nodded to the turnkey who had been waiting outside and strode away, out into the night, back to Portman House, back to Rosamund. He was smiling and humming a little tune as he went. He would tell Rosamund what he had learned, that her father had been innocent, but he did not think it was necessary to tell her that he had been murdered. It would only distress her.

  He had begun to think she was right when she said Beth had cursed him in extremis and would have retracted had she lived. Did women really welcome the pain of childbirth? Was it a little like going into battle? You knew you might be wounded but you did it anyway for the reward of victory. If he thought of it like that, perhaps…

  He left his horse in the mews, so absorbed in happy contemplation, he did not notice the carriage had gone. He even forgot to mince like the coxcomb he was supposed to be as he hurried into the house. His wife was not at home, the whole household was awake and buzzing and it was a minute or two before he could make out what had happened. And then he had Hector saddled again and galloped off in the direction of the Kensington Road, ignoring the shouts of chairmen, linkmen and pedestrians who had to dodge out of his way.