by Burnett, May
“We can talk later,” Abigail said, in a low voice. “But yes, I am fine.”
“Glad to hear it,” Northcote said. He had been watching the others’ reunion with a sardonic expression. “Good morning, Barton. Are you come to make good on your threats?”
“I came to check on my sister.” Jeremy was not quite willing to give up the animosity he’d nursed for all those weeks.
“Nonsense, Jeremy, I am fine,” Susan assured him. “Now that I have Abigail safe – once we get to Ulmsbury – all is going to be right. Did you escort Abby? How did this accident happen?”
“Have some tea,” Abigail offered, and rang for additional cups and food. “You must have risen very early, and I know how little you like that.”
“In the country, one gets used to it. But a cup of tea would be welcome, and one of those scones I see on your table.”
The two friends sat down and put their heads close together to confer. Jeremy was left standing with Northcote, who was smiling slightly as he watched the two young women. In the clear morning light coming through the window, Susan’s husband did not look like the villain of his imagination. The way he was watching Susan … if Lord Northcote harboured any evil plans against his wife, he had to be the best actor Jeremy had ever met.
“I feel like a walk,” Jeremy said brusquely, “would you join me? It may be some time till the ladies are finished talking.”
Northcote stood aside with a curt nod, and they left the inn, walking along the path to a small brook where Jeremy had whiled away some hours of the past week, fishing with a borrowed rod.
“Susan looks well enough,” Jeremy said gruffly. “It appears I may have wronged you – though it is all Susan’s fault, for not taking her brothers into her confidence.”
Northcote threw him a penetrating glance. “Why do you say so? What do you know now, that you did not at the time of our wedding?”
“Miss Trevelyan told me all. Due to the accident there will not be any child, so there really was no reason for Susan to throw herself away on you – but she could not know that at the time. Would you really have accepted and brought up Fenton’s child as your own? Why would you agree to that?” It was almost inconceivable, considering the ancient pedigree of the Northcotes, if that child had been a boy.
Northcote shrugged. “I could not see Susan in distress without wanting to assist her. And I admit her fortune came in handy enough. I’m somewhat relieved at this development, as it would be awkward to have two children born within a few months of each other. Despite what Susan may believe, it is not any easier in the countryside than in town to hide important details. People are just as vigilant and prone to gossip.”
Jeremy was silent, absorbing this news. So he was to be an uncle after all.
Northcote brushed a willow branch from their path. “There is still Fenton to deal with. I believe it was he who tried to spook my horse into throwing me off a cliff some days ago, though I did not see his face. If he should get me after all – not that he will, but there’s always a small chance of bad luck – you will have to make sure Susan is safe from him.”
“He came after you? So that is why I could not catch him in town, for the challenge I still owe him.” Jeremy had not even had the slightest notion, then, of just how much he had to punish and avenge. “I don’t want to see Susan a young widow.”
“Strange, I thought that was exactly your desire.”
“If you have been treating her well, you may live,” Jeremy said magnanimously, “as far as I am concerned.”
Northcote merely smiled. “Against a seasoned soldier, you would not have stood much chance in a duel. We can have a friendly shooting competition instead.”
“I understand it’s different under real fire,” Jeremy said. He had heard often enough that the best eye, and any amount of shooting practice, was less important than cool nerve when your life was hanging in the balance. “I won’t say no to your suggestion, for the practice. I still need to challenge Fenton, and he’s reputed to be a pretty good shot.”
“I shall take care of that.” Northcote sounded determined. “I have more experience at killing.”
“But my claim takes precedence. I was already determined to challenge the man long before you became betrothed to Susan. And would you leave your child fatherless in case he got off a lucky shot? And Susan widowed? Your sister all alone?”
Northcote did not reply. Jeremy went on, “Now I have even more reason to shoot the man. What he did cannot be atoned in any other way than with his life.”
“We agree on that much.”
***
Susan found it hard to take in that her major worries were at an end. “So Jeremy knows everything?”
“I’m afraid so. It could not be hidden after the accident.” Abigail placidly added hot water to her tea. “I nearly died too, you know. Had not your brother and Mrs Widdy been along, I probably would have. They told me I was insensible for upwards of two hours. By the time I came to myself the worst was over, but it still hurt badly, and I had to lie in bed for four days, before I was allowed even mild exercise. All that time they stuffed me with broth and jellies and ale to make up for the blood loss. I don’t even like the taste of ale.”
“I know.” Susan studied her friend’s features, surprised to see her so serene after this harrowing experience. “I had no idea what had happened, and was greatly worried. You could not depart without Jeremy’s escort?”
“Without him, I could not have come at all. That maid of my step-mother’s found the money you had given me, and stole it. Go ahead and swear – I did so myself when I found out. I’m sorry I did not hide it better.”
“I should have made the arrangements for your travel myself, before leaving town,” Susan said. “You were in no position to hire a carriage, watched all the time. But with the wedding preparations so hurried, I would have found it difficult too. By the way, life really is better as a married lady; I have greater freedom, and quite enjoy my married state. Now that you no longer need worry about the other –“
“The thought of marriage, and the intimacy it requires, still gives me the shudders,” Abigail interrupted. “As time passes I may feel less repulsed, though I doubt it.”
“Not all men are brutes, you know.”
“Jeremy – your brother – offered to marry me,” Abigail said, “from chivalry or guilt or pity, I know not. Of course I declined.”
Susan hid her surprise. “Did he? I don’t see that you had to decline ‘of course’. He’s a very good catch and quite a nice fellow, and besides, you would not need to hide what happened from him, as he already knows all.” That would be an issue with any other man.
“It would not do,” Abigail said simply. “Would you marry for such a reason as that?”
“One might say that my own reasons were no better, and I have yet to regret it.”
“I am very glad to hear you say so. If you were worried about me, I worried just as much about you, with a husband you barely knew, in a strange place. Your optimistic estimate of his character might have been off.”
“Indeed, and I’m lucky that it was not. We are rubbing along very well with each other. When I think of some of the fops who were after me, I certainly don’t repine.” Did her husband feet the same? He certainly showed her no lack of interest in the bedroom, but Susan had always understood that lust and love could exist quite independently, for a man. It would be awkward to ask. Men did not willingly talk of their feelings. Was there some way she could find out, without actually speaking the words herself?
“You have fallen silent,” Abigail said. “I suppose there are things in any marriage that one does not discuss even with one’s best friend.”
“That still leaves a million other things to talk about,” Susan said. “Forgive my momentary abstraction.”
Mrs Widdy and Molly returned from Mass before they could continue their conversation. The nurse plied Susan with a dozen anxious questions, while Molly was sent off to
the kitchen to break her fast after curtseying to Susan.
“You look well enough, but a little different.” Mrs Widdy lowered her voice. “Are you expecting, milady?”
“I think so,” Susan admitted. “But it is quite recent, I cannot be sure yet.”
“Oh!” Abigail exclaimed. “And yet you came all this way to find me?”
“I am feeling perfectly stout,” Susan maintained, but it was clear that Mrs Widdy would not allow her to exert herself any more, without vigorous protest. “How nice of you to come for a visit, Mrs Widdy.”
“Your brother was worried, and so was I.”
“There was not the slightest need for that,” Susan said, just a little exasperated. “I know what I am about, believe me.”
“Still, can you blame a body for wanting to make sure?”
Susan shook her head, smiling reluctantly. It might be a nuisance, but it felt good to be loved.
Chapter 25
“It is not too late to think better of the match,” Lady Crimpling said in a tone of deep foreboding. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“It was a sign of Providence that Sir Jermyn found a blank Special License among Mr. Molton’s luggage,” Milla pointed out. “He clearly came prepared to marry someone. Maybe his promises to me, that he now pretends he cannot remember, were sincere after all. His fall, from drunkenness I mean, may have addled his wits.”
“If he’s addled, he cannot contract a valid marriage,” Lady Crimpling said, shaking her head. “But I don’t know – we really should wait for your brother – he’s your guardian, after all. If he dislikes the match, he can protest the validity, despite the Special License.”
“He won’t,” Milla said, pretending a confidence she was very far from feeling on that matter. “Remember that he’s newly wedded himself, and has not seen me for many years until recently. He and my sister-in-law will be only too glad to see me married, without having to provide any dowry. You saw how they left me without saying good-bye, or indicating when they would return.”
“Yes, but to marry a man like that, when you are so young, and with no settlements signed… it just does not feel right to do things so quickly.”
“You heard yourself how the man claimed to have ruined me,” Milla said. It was her strongest argument, and silenced Lady Crimpling’s all too sensible doubts. Respectability must be maintained, or restored, at all costs.
“It is only fair that he pay restitution for that,” Lady Crimpling conceded. “The wedding is the condition Sir Jermyn exacted for his release from captivity. It is not the way I would care to begin a marriage, but since you are determined on this course, all I can do it so wish you all the best – especially good luck. You will need it.”
“Thank you,” Milla muttered. “Is it time yet?”
“Yes, the vicar is waiting, and has checked the Special License. I shall stand up with you, Miss Northcote, in the absence of your own family.”
“Thank you,” Milla repeated. The silver-coloured shoes were a little too big, and it was hard to walk with the dignity she wanted; the fellow she was marrying was not to get any ideas that she would be easy to bully. At least the dress was lovely. She had gone for the silver-white after all, and in her dark hair she wore a small white veil as well as two white rosebuds from a bush growing against the castle wall.
Her groom was waiting with Sir Jermyn, the Vicar, and more than a dozen neighbours and tenants in the small church. There were shopkeepers, fishermen, and some of the castle servants present.
Molton had not bothered to dress in any special way, and looked at Milla threateningly, in a way that boded ill for any matrimonial harmony. Hoping to scare her off, was he? He had no idea who he was dealing with. She deliberately pasted a supercilious smile on her face.
“Are you sure you want to go ahead with this farce?” His voice was low and deep, oozing menace. The scratches on his cheek looked to be healing cleanly, worse luck.
Milla kept her own voice soft; the vicar had no need to hear this exchange. “It’s your own fault for claiming that you had ruined me. This is the inevitable result.”
“You will live to regret it, Miss Northcote.”
“We shall see.”
The Dennoden vicar, fortunately hard of hearing, began the ceremony then, speaking rather faster than on other occasions; his unease was palpable. In an astonishingly short time, they were done, each principal answering with firm voice.
The wedding concluded without the customary kiss, though there was a simple ring, provided by Sir Jermyn. As soon as she had signed the register, and received her marriage lines, Milla gestured to her fishermen friends at the back of the church. She had brought half a dozen this time, though not Jem and his cousins, in case they were recognised.
“Congratulations, Mr. Molton, Mrs. Molton,” Sir Jermyn said to them, unsmiling.
“That’s Lord and Lady Fenton,” Milla’s groom said, to general astonishment. “Molton is the family name, but I usually go by my title.”
“Fenton?” Sir Jermyn frowned. “Viscount Fenton? I had no idea – I have heard things –,” he cast a worried look at Milla.
“How interesting,” she said, in a bored voice. “Not that it matters. I shall be returning to my brother’s castle now, Sir. You may come and fetch me from there if you are prepared to be a conformable husband, or you can make arrangements for a separate residence through your solicitor. That would be my own preference.”
“What, you don’t have the stomach to see through what you started?” Fenton grabbed her roughly by the upper arm, the same spot where she still had a bruise from the last time. “You put yourself into my power, and I still have accounts to settle with your brother and his wife.”
The witnesses stared at him in consternation, as the fishermen Milla had brought drew closer with their fists clenched.
“Such threats are most unseemly in a Church,” Sir Jermyn said sternly. “A period of reflection on all parts might be best, until cooler heads prevail, as Lady Fenton suggests.”
“Indeed. Good-bye for now,” Milla said, wrenching her arm out of her husband’s with a sudden twist. She left flanked by six stout men, while Fenton was prevented from following by several others standing in his way.
“You are free to leave now,” Sir Jermyn said to him. “If you want advice on how to persuade your pretty wife to live with you, I am willing to give you some pointers.”
“Keep your advice, you fat old loon,” Fenton said. Everyone drew back from him in shock, and he strode out of the place with swift steps. Milla was already at the door – within minutes she’d be on the sea in her boat. She felt safest in her own element. By the time Fenton reached his own boat, or crossed the dale and hill on foot, she’d be safely behind the castle walls.
“What have you done, Miss Milla?” Miles, one of her improvised bodyguards, asked her. “He’s marked by the devil, that man. No good can come out of marrying such.”
“With any luck, a steady income may come out of it,” she said pragmatically. “That would be good enough for me.”
“Aye, I guess it would be, at that. But you’d better be careful how far you drive him. If he gets hold of you – and the law gives him every right – “
“He won’t.” Milla took off the veil and roses, and cast them into the waves, a sacrifice to the sea. She threw the hairpins after, and shook out her dark locks with a laugh. The simple ring on her fingers would have to be kept, but she’d put it in her drawer once at home. It would only interfere with rowing and fishing.
***
North could not believe his ears.
“You have done what? Are you out of your mind, Camilla Northcote?”
“That’s Lady Fenton now,” Milla said smugly. “A Viscountess, I gather, which means I probably outrank Susan – or does her being an earl’s daughter count for more? She will know, I suppose.”
North wanted to shake his sister. “Why would you do something so abysmally stupid and dangerous? Fento
n is a villain. You do not know the terrible things he has done to innocent women. He wants to murder your only brother, and you go ahead and marry the man? Just because I leave you alone here for a few days?”
“Look at it logically.” Milla remained infuriatingly calm. “I needed to marry someone, thanks to Edward I have no dowry, and I do not want to pretend to be a gently bred lady.”
“But the man is likely to murder you! Unless I do it first,” he said bitterly.
They were in the great hall of the castle, half an hour after the whole party of North, Susan, Abigail and Jeremy had arrived. Susan was installing her guests in their rooms, as yet unaware of the news Milla had told her brother. If it was news, and not merely a stupid hoax.
“This is a joke, isn’t it? You had me going there for a while. I did not realise you are so whimsical, Milla.”
“It is not a joke. You may ask Sir Jermyn and Lady Crimpling, and the vicar of Dennoden who officiated, and most of your tenants. They were all there.”
“But you are under age! And there cannot possibly have been time enough to read the banns! It cannot be true.”
“That was rather strange,” Milla said pensively, “Fenton had a blank Special License among his effects. I wonder for whom it was originally intended?”
North stared at her. “He did?” It was all too clear what Fenton had planned. Had he bought that Special License before, or after Susan’s marriage in London? Was he still intent on winning his bet?
“And as for my age, nobody expects you to make an issue out of it, after going away and leaving me all alone, exposed to the insults and insinuations of a rake like Lord Fenton.”
“Insults? What did he do? Did I not warn you of the man? He is capable of the vilest crimes. Why would you even be within a hundred yards of him?”
“He used a different name – the family name, it turned out, instead of the title – and I merely tried to identify the man who shot at you that time. You had asked me to see if I heard anything of a stranger, don’t you remember?”