by Jayne Davis
“Er… yes.” He would not have put it so bluntly, but he could not deny it. “I don’t think I’d ever be bored with Isabella. And she’s…” Beautiful, enthusiastic, entrancing. Was this feeling what the poets meant?
“No need to go into detail, my boy.” His father had a satisfied smirk. “All’s well, then. You get a bride you actually like…”
More than like. Much more.
“No.”
“I thought you might say that. Let me guess—you’re not going to take a wife at Marstone’s bidding, even though she’s the one you want. Don’t let pride get in your way, Nick.”
“It’s not that. I don’t want to take a wife who has probably been forced into it.” And may be in love with someone else. He glanced at his own letter again before screwing it into a ball and throwing it at the fireplace. “I’m not worried about these stupid threats, but if I decline he’ll find someone else. There must be no end of men who’d marry her for the dowry Marstone can afford to offer. I don’t understand why he’s in such a hurry, though.”
And he still didn’t know why she’d run away when she did, or what she’d been doing in a dim room with da Gama and Lady Jesson at the ball. He would have asked her at Salisbury, if Jasperson hadn’t arrived.
“You’ll go and see Marstone, then?”
“I must.”
Chapter 26
Bella walked over to the parlour window. The garden was bathed in sunshine, the rose blooms glowing red, gold, and white against dark leaves. The cheeriness of the scene seemed an affront to her mood, and she turned away.
“For heaven’s sake, sit down, Isabella,” Aunt Aurelia said, not for the first time. “It wouldn’t be the end of the world, being married to Carterton—you said so yourself.”
“It’s not fair on him, Aunt. He was only trying to help.” Turning back to the view, she tried to concentrate on a blackbird foraging along the edges of a low box hedge.
“Carterton may not agree,” her aunt said. “Then Marstone might find someone worse.”
Bella closed her eyes—anyone else would be worse. But she wasn’t worried about him refusing—he would agree if Papa told him that she wished it. He was too much of a gentleman to do otherwise.
“I suspect you’ll soon find out,” Aunt Aurelia said, tilting her head towards the door. Bella heard voices, but could not make out any words.
“Mr Carterton, my lady,” Mowbray intoned, then closed the door behind their visitor.
Bella tried to make out his expression. He did not look angry—that was something—but nor did he look pleased to be here.
“Marstone’s threats worked, then?” Aunt Aurelia asked, a shade of disappointment in her tone.
“Not exactly, my lady,” Mr Carterton said, a brief frown creasing his brow. “I have just come from him, and I wish to talk to Lady Isabella. Alone, if possible.”
Aunt Aurelia stood. “I will not do that—for your own protection. I wouldn’t put it past my brother to have several servants swear to finding you behaving improperly and use that to force your hand.”
“Is he so desperate?”
Aunt Aurelia shrugged. “He’s always wanted to make others obey him, but lately he’s become… well, obsessed is the only word for it. I will sit over there.” She pointed to the far corner of the room. “If you do not raise your voices, I will not hear you.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
He sat down next to Bella as Aunt Aurelia moved away. Bella clasped her hands in her lap—knowing that her future might depend on this interview seemed to be fogging her mind.
“We have as much time as we need, Bella. Why did you run away when you did? I gathered that your father had given up on Narwood.”
Bella let out a breath. That was easy to answer. “He had, but he was going to send me back to Marstone Park until he found someone else for me. It would have been much harder to escape from there.”
“What went wrong with Narwood? Did he not offer, after all?”
There was no sense in trying to hide the truth. If they were to be made to wed, honesty was the only way they might come to a good understanding. And she wanted that with him—more than that, if she could.
“Narwood wants an heir of his blood, but I could not marry him. So I gave Father to understand that I might be… might be carrying another man’s child.”
His brows drew together.
“I am not; I could not be,” she added hurriedly, and the muscles in his face relaxed. “I merely told him so, and threatened that Lady Jesson would spread that gossip if I asked her to.”
To her relief, his lips twitched as if he were about to smile, but then he became serious again.
“Your father says you have agreed to a marriage with me. If it is his threat of prosecuting me that made you accept, you may ignore that. I am not afraid that he will win, and any scandal will soon blow over.”
“I did worry about that, yes.” But she had believed him when he’d told Jasperson that such a charge would not succeed, and her aunt had backed up that view. “You would not be in this position if you had not tried to help me, and it wouldn’t be fair to put you through that, even if he did not succeed.” She took a deep breath. “But he also threatened to have Molly and Langton arrested for kidnapping. It would not go well for them, I think.” Langton was currently locked in a room in the cellars and the rest of the servants were keeping a close eye on Molly. Fletcher might get dragged into it, too, if Father ever found out about her part in things. She had to trust that Archer had made sure Fletcher had the means to return to Maria’s house.
“I can pay for good lawyers.”
She had guessed he would make that offer. “Thank you, but no. I cannot risk them being found guilty, or even imprisoned before the trial. They were only trying to help, and without any reward, really. I could not benefit from their loyalty and then abandon them to my father’s revenge.”
“Your decision does you credit,” he said. “Is the match distasteful to you?”
She tried to work out what he was thinking, but his face gave no clue. Honesty was best, again. The truth, even if not all the truth.
“It is not distasteful to me, not at all. But any match where the parties are forced into it is… is not a good idea. But I have no choice, in all honour.”
He nodded slowly. “If I decline, what will your father do?”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t know. He may give up, but he may decide it’s my fault for not being able to persuade you, and he could still have Molly and Langton arrested. If Will were here…” But there was no use wishing for that.
“He may be returning soon,” Mr Carterton said. “However, your father wants the marriage to happen tomorrow—he must have bribed several of the archbishop’s clerks to get a special licence so quickly. But even if Wingrave were to return in time, he might not be able to prevent Marstone carrying out his threat.” He ran a finger around the inside of his neckcloth. “I can ask him to give me another day or two.”
“He will say that you have been courting me for weeks. That is what my aunt thought, too.”
“Very well.” He looked at the floor, then into her eyes. “Lady Isabella, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
She closed her eyes—what would it be like to have a man ask that question of his own free will, because he liked her? Loved her. If only he could have asked in those circumstances.
“Yes, I will. Thank you, sir.”
“Nick. My name is Nick.” His smile was so kind, so sympathetic that she felt the prick of tears in her eyes. Perhaps he really wasn’t unhappy at the prospect?
“Bella, I will still try to find a way out of this—neither of us wishes to be forced into a match.”
Oh. “Thank you... Nick.” She was pleased her voice sounded almost normal.
He rewarded her with a fleeting smile as he stood. “I will tell Marstone I accept, although I will attempt to persuade him to allow a few days’ delay.”
He bowed, and raised her ha
nd to his lips before turning to leave. Bella watched him go, the feeling of that brief contact still warming her.
“It is settled, then?” Aunt Aurelia put one hand on Bella’s shoulder, an unexpected gesture of friendliness that nearly broke her composure.
“Yes, Aunt.” For good or ill.
When Nick arrived at Marstone House the next morning, he was shown into the library and asked to wait. After ten minutes of pacing, no-one had appeared to summon him, so he helped himself to a glass of port from a decanter and stood looking at the grey clouds beyond the window. He’d arrived at the specified time of eleven o’clock, and could only suppose that there was some problem with the special licence, or the priest.
Yesterday, Marstone had been adamant that his marriage to Bella should take place today. In one way, Nick hadn’t been sorry—if they were married, he would have time to court her properly, and hope that she could come to love him in the way he now realised he loved her. But the logical part of his brain kept reminding him that it would be a road to misery for both of them if she was in love with someone else.
And who would have thought Father could be so devious? Nick had had no idea how he could delay things once Marstone had insisted, but his father had thought of a way. They might only need a day or two. He fingered the note in his pocket—Talbot had summoned him to a meeting with himself and Wingrave on the morrow, at which point Wingrave could resume responsibility for his sister. There was even a chance that Wingrave would arrive in London today, so Nick had written back outlining the situation and asking Talbot to send Wingrave straight to Marstone House if he appeared. Not that he could do much good at this point if Father’s plan failed.
At last, after being left to kick his heels for nearly an hour, Nick was taken upstairs to Marstone’s bedroom. The bedchamber was not as gloomy as the last time he’d been here. Marstone was propped up on pillows in his bed, his cheeks sunken and dark shadows circling his eyes.
Bella stood next to Lady Cerney, wearing a cream gown with some lacy trimming. She held a little posy of roses in one hand, and met Nick’s gaze with a tentative smile. Nick felt a rush of admiration for her spirit—she was making the best of things. He wished he could reassure her, but he could not say anything without Lady Cerney, at least, overhearing.
“Smythe is my physician,” Marstone wheezed, “and will witness the marriage along with Lady Cerney.”
Nick dragged his eyes away from Bella. A rotund man near the window gave a brief bow. “Hobson will conduct the service,” Marstone added. “I take it you have no objection to any of this?”
“None whatsoever, my lord.”
Nick avoided meeting Hobson’s eyes, aware of the absurdity of the situation. In other circumstances, it would be amusing.
“Dearly beloved,” Hobson began, peering at the book in his hands and stumbling a little now and then. “We are gathered here…”
Nick stopped listening, gazing at the man in the bed and wondering how someone came to be such a tyrant. It wasn’t as if his daughter’s marriage could secure the succession. Wingrave would have ensured that Bella married someone suitable; she would not be friendless when Marstone died.
Hobson coughed, and Nick paid attention—it was time to make his responses. He repeated his words, and Bella made her own vows in a quiet but firm voice.
Bella felt the tension in her relax as the priest started reciting the final prayers. Mr Carterton—Nick—was a decent man. They could make a good life together, and perhaps they would come to love each other in time.
“…pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce—”
Loud voices sounded beyond the door, and Hobson’s words faltered.
“Carry on, man,” her father called impatiently. “Get it over with.”
Hobson glanced at Nick, then started reading again. “I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of—”
“Stand aside, Mowbray.”
Will?
It was Will! The door burst open and her brother stepped into the room, a footman still protesting behind him.
“What on earth are you doing?” Will asked.
“It should be obvious what is happening, Wingrave,” their father said, his voice surprisingly strong considering how ill he appeared. “And you are too late to intervene.” His laughter turned into a coughing fit, and the physician hurried towards the bed.
“I only asked you to look out for her, Carterton,” Will said, looking at Nick. “You didn’t have to marry her.” He looked around the room, his gaze coming to rest on the priest with a puzzled frown. “What’s your father’s butler doing reading the marriage service?”
Butler? The guilt on Hobson’s face told Bella it was true.
Did that mean she wasn’t married to Nick? The sudden emptiness inside revealed how much she’d wanted this match, even though she hadn’t fully realised it until now.
Her father’s coughing changed to painful gasps, and the physician turned and flapped his hands at them.
“Come away, Bella.” Will took her arm and led her out of the room, putting one arm around her shoulders and giving her a quick hug. “Wait for me in the parlour; I’ll come as soon as I can.”
Chapter 27
Bella looked at the clock again. It was only ten minutes since Will had sent her to the parlour, but it felt much longer.
A step sounded in the hall, and she rushed across the room as the door opened.
“Oh, Will! I’m so glad you’re back.”
He caught her, hugging her close. To her dismay she felt tears forming, and suddenly couldn’t stop herself from crying. She hadn’t seen him for two years, and then it had only been a clandestine midnight meeting in her bedroom.
“I’m sorry, Bella, I should have been here. I might have stopped all this happening.” He let her cry on his coat until her sobs eased. “Come, sit down. We need to talk.”
Bella reluctantly let go, sniffing. Will handed her a handkerchief, then sat beside her on a sofa as she blew her nose.
“Aunt Aurelia said something about running away. It seems you’ve been having an adventure.”
“It wasn’t fun, Will,” Bella said, irritated by his smile.
“No, I imagine not. I’m not laughing at you, but at poor Carterton, having to deal with you.”
“Deal with? I’m not a problem to be dealt with!” Bella took a deep breath as his smile widened. “You’re deliberately trying to annoy me,” she accused.
“Guilty as charged,” he said, raising a hand. “I’d rather you were cross than a watering pot.” He touched her shoulder. “Cheer up, Bell. All is not lost.”
His childhood name for her made her smile. She blew her nose. “Will, am I married or not?”
“Not. That was an ingenious plan Carterton came up with to fool Father.”
To her dismay, her lips started to tremble again.
“I thought that was what you wanted?” Will said, bending his head to look her in the face.
“So did I,” she sniffed. “Until it happened. Nick said he’d try to find a way out, but I didn’t think he had managed to. What about Papa—is he in another rage?”
“He’s not well.”
“He wasn’t well before.”
“No, I mean seriously. The doctor was talking about preparing ourselves for the worst.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t feel sorry. “Is it my fault for defying him?”
“No, it isn’t—do not think that, Bella. Carterton arranged to substitute his butler for the priest, and I blurted out the truth without warning. No-one made him get in such a rage just because you didn’t want to marry the man he chose.”
“Aunt Aurelia upset him first, before we came to Town. She told him that Lady Wingrave wasn’t her father’s daughter. Oh,” she added, a sudden doubt occurring. “You did know that, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did. Connie told me herself.”
/> “You don’t mind?”
He smiled and shook his head. “No. In fact, I took great delight in the fact, knowing how obsessed with rank and power Father is. But I didn’t tell him, in case he found a way to get revenge on Connie. I’m surprised Aunt Aurelia said it in front of you, though.”
“She didn’t. I was listening at the servants’ door.”
Will gave a crack of laughter. “A sister after my own heart,” he said, giving her another quick hug. “Rest assured, I will make sure he does not force you into another match.”
“He threatened to have Molly and Langton tried for kidnapping.”
“Don’t worry, Bella. He won’t. I’ll have him declared incompetent, if necessary. You must tell me all the details, but not now. You look as if a stiff brandy would do you good.”
“I’d rather have a cup of tea.” And something to eat. She hadn’t managed to eat any breakfast.
“I’ll get some sent in. I need to talk to Carterton, so you have your tea and a rest, and I’ll talk to you later.”
Nick waited for Wingrave in the library, pacing up and down. He had no inclination for reading, and doubted he’d manage to concentrate if he tried. Waylaying the priest that Marstone’s man had arranged had been his father’s idea, but he’d readily agreed. The plan would fail if Marstone had already sent notification to the papers, but Father had said he could take care of that, too.
He thought it would be what Bella wanted—she had agreed to marry him, certainly, but only to save her maid and the footman from arrest and trial. Yet she had not looked relieved when Wingrave had inadvertently revealed their subterfuge.
“Is she all right?” he asked, when Wingrave finally appeared.
“She will be,” he replied, crossing straight to the tray of decanters and pouring two large brandies.
“Have you come directly here from Paris?” Nick took the offered glass.
Wingrave nodded. “More or less. Talbot sent a copy of your note to the lodgings I use when in Town, so I came straight here. Rather too quickly, as it turned out—it might have been better to let Marstone believe the marriage had taken place.”