The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  Thomas consulted with Charlotte and the Stones a short time later.

  "Well, if that's what Jonathan has decided, that they're not to be married even though he loves her, there's little we can do, dearest," his wife said soothingly.

  "I think the important thing is that we try to at least remain friends with Pamela. Jonathan is even now getting Sarah ready to leave for Brimley, and has tried to resign his parish. I have of course refused to allow him to do so until an appropriate replacement can be found. As you know, I can drag that out indefinitely.

  "In the meantime, I propose we go up to London. We will all act as if nothing odd has happened, and keep an eye on Pamela. We shall protect her from herself and that aunt of hers. And above all, protect her from Ferncliffe. Even if she and Jonathan can never be together, she doesn't deserve to be treated like a prize heifer at the County Fair," Thomas said with a grimace of disgust.

  Charlotte concurred. "I couldn't agree more. I shudder to think what might have happened if you hadn't taken me in hand and protected me. Pamela has taken up where I left off socially. She is spoilt, and unsuspecting of the dangers of people who smile and smile, but act like villains behind the scenes."

  Clifford protested, "But we don't have any proof-"

  "I smell a rat," Thomas said with a grimace. "Something is afoot. I can't be sure what. All I know is that the last we had heard, one of the Davenports was heir to the earldom, not that odious viper. And now none of them can be found. The three brothers have vanished from the face of the earth.

  "Everything that happened two years ago was a bad bloody business, and we've never been able to uncover all the culprits yet. I propose we do so now. We're still looking for your mysterious friend Jason. The trail hasn't gone cold yet. I'll find him, never fear. One way or the other, I'll find him, and get the answers we seek." The Duke toyed with a dangerous looking letter opener on his desk for a brief moment.

  "In the meantime, I shall keep Jonathan busy with his parish duties. And it's high time I did something sensible about Jane. I think the best plan is for her to go to a special institution, where doctors and nurses can actively help her. I shall get Jonathan to deal with the matter, so that he can be settled in his own mind that he has done everything he can to help her and Sophie.

  "Perhaps he'll see the hopelessness of the situation. Having Jane in a house with servants waiting on her night and day hasn't been bad, but I believe it's given him false hopes. That it's created an illusion of domesticity which can never be possible.

  "And as much as Jane loves Sophie, it's not healthy for the child to be with her mother for much longer, not when Jane is in obvious decline. She can certainly visit on her good days, but I need to make better arrangements for her too."

  Vanessa nodded, and moved over from her chair to pat him on the shoulder. "Clifford and I will do anything we can to help."

  Thomas gave her a grateful smile. "I shall call upon you both if need be. But for the moment, let Jonathan do it. It will either take his mind off his problems, or force him to confront the contrast between what is, and what can be."

  The following day, Jonathan left Bath, charged with the solemn tasks the Duke had given him, and more than ready to leave the place that had caused him so much joy and pain. Sarah went with him, but promised to see all of the others soon.

  Clifford and Vanessa were returning for a short time to Stone Court, but would be at the Duke's townhouse for the start of the Season proper. "We'll be up the day before the Royal Academy exhibition. If Vanessa's feeling up to it, of course."

  Thomas kissed her hand. "Many congratulations."

  "And to you and Charlotte," Clifford said with a wink. He shook Thomas's hand, and they headed off back home.

  Charlotte supervised the closing down of the townhouse, whilst Elizabeth saw to all the packing. Thomas wrote to the Horse Guards and the Admiralty, asking for information on the Earl of Ferncliffe, Herbert Paxton, Captain Breedon, and several other men of their acquaintance he had lost track of, including his cousin from Ireland, Stewart Fitzgerald.

  Thomas had not seen the Duke of Clancar since before the Siege of Cuidad Rodrigo, when Thomas and Clifford had been so seriously injured. Killed, if Jonathan's account of the events on that day were to be believed.

  But then, a great deal had not been cleared up about that day. Thomas had been quite badly injured and happy to go home, to put the war behind him. But Paxton's actions in January 1812 had caused nothing but chaos for his family. Two of Paxton's known associates now turning up at about the same time, in his own quiet corner of Somerset, should have given him pause. His happiness with Charlotte, and the death of Paxton, had lulled him into a false sense of security.

  The fact was that Paxton had committed treason. Someone had lured him into it, and he had not acted alone. He had been too much of a coward. No, someone else had been involved. But who? Though he had lost Portugal and Spain, Napoleon was still winning yet more victories in the East, only increasing in power so far has he could tell.

  Thomas certainly did not want to go back to the Army again, especially not without Clifford and Jonathan. But he would do his duty if called upon.

  He was also determined to find some answers as to what had happened to the Davenports, for all of them had vanished without trace during the war, and one of them was the rightful Earl of Ferncliffe.

  He also needed to discover the truth about the events upon that fateful day when he and the Rakehells had been betrayed. Thomas wasn't sure why, but he had the feeling that all of Jonathan's and Pamela's happiness might well depend upon it.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The Duke of Ellesmere's carriage pulled up outside the small ivy-clad stone cottage.

  Jonathan felt the same sick pang he always did every time he looked at the picturesque domicile which housed such horrors inside.

  Sarah took his hand and squeezed it hard, as if the physical pain could block out his emotional anguish.

  He gave her a wan half smile, and returned the pressure more gently.

  "It really is for the best."

  "I wish to God I could believe that," he said bitterly.

  "Medical science makes great inroads every day. Perhaps they might be able to--"

  "You sound like Blake Sanderson, and every other doctor we've ever consulted. But you and I both know it's hopeless."

  "Yet you still continue to hope?" Sarah said with an ironic little smile.

  He shrugged. "It's all I have left to me."

  "Jonathan, you know I've always loved Jane as a sister, but how can anyone reasonably expect you to keep faith after--"

  "I'm a man of the cloth. If I can't keep faith, who can?" he said gruffly, and swung the carriage door open.

  "Uncle Jon, Uncle Jon!" a tiny voice piped from the front door.

  An adorable little moppet in a green dress with matching ribbons in her ebony hair threw herself at his knees.

  "Hello, Sophie, love."

  He swung her up into his arms and returned the resounding kiss she gave him.

  She gazed at him with grave green eyes so like her mother's he wanted to weep every time he looked at them. This could have been their child together, if only....

  But no, the eyes were not like her mother's any more.

  He heard a terrible keening sound coming from the open door.

  "'S'not a good day, today," the child whispered, before her thumb crept into her mouth.

  Jonathan closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "Oh Lord, give me strength."

  "Where is she? Where? Where?" the voice demanded in increasingly strident tones.

  A large matronly woman with iron-gray hair clad in a floral patterned frock and apron came hurrying to the door to peer out. "She's safe with Mister Jonathan, Jane," she said.

  She waved and blew a kiss at the little girl, who beamed back at her nurse lovingly.

  "Where is she? Where?"

  "Here, Jane. she's right here. She's safe with me," he called, hurrying
inside, leaving a heartbroken Sarah to trail along behind sadly.

  She heard a cackling laugh, and the sound of footsteps hurrying toward the door. "Here, my darling, look what I made for you."

  Sarah caught a glimpse of a completely knotted and tangled piece of embroidery.

  "T'ank 'oo, Mummy," the girl said shyly, though it was clear from her expression that she found the ragged piece of cloth just as pitiful as their visitors did.

  "And you, sir, who are you? Why have you come?" came the shrill demand.

  "It's me, Jane," he sighed. "Jonathan. Don't your remember?"

  He passed one hand over his eyes to avoid looking at the lifeless flat emerald ones he had once sworn he would never grow tired of. Had even composed sonnets to in his youthful folly.

  She looked daggers at him through the tangled fall of her ebony hair. "You pig. Leave my daughter alone. You men are all the same. Disgusting! Disgusting!"

  Sarah saw him shiver and tremble. "Jonathan, really, we ought to go. You can see it's a bad day."

  "But Sophie--"

  "Get out. Get out! I hate you! I hate you!" Jane hissed. "You only want to keep me here as your mistress! I know what you want. The way you look at me. The things you want to do to me--"

  Sarah tugged hard on her brother's arm, half dragging him to the door. She had to shout above the awful recitation which was becoming more abusive and graphic by the minute.

  "Jonathan, we must go. This can do no one any good."

  Jonathan resisted her importunate tugging. "Please wait outside, my dear. I would not wish you to hear any more vulgar--"

  "I'm not leaving without you, Brother!"

  "But--"

  "Let's leave together now," Sarah urged, hauling on his arm. "Thomas needs you to go to London. We'll come back soon. When she's having a good day."

  A vision of blond, beautiful, adoring Pamela in his arms last night, kissing him, telling him how much she loved him, was the last straw.

  He turned and fled.

  "Goodbye Sophie, my dear. Take good care of Mummy. I'll see you soon!" he called over his shoulder.

  He bolted from the dark room and out into the garden. He grabbed hold of the gate for support and vomited explosively, until he was sure he would turn inside out.

  Then Sarah was beside him, holding his middle on either side, before fishing out his handkerchief from his pocket to clean up his face.

  "It's all right. It'll be all right," she soothed.

  Jonathan fought back the bile still bubbling in the back of his throat. "How? In Heaven's name, how?"

  She hugged his head down onto her shoulder, and began to lead him back to the carriage. "I don't know, Brother. I wish to God I did. All we can do is pray for some sort of miracle, or the divine will of Providence."

  Jonathan felt as though he would choke. Pray indeed. He'd done nothing but pray. God seemed to do nothing but mock him.

  A vision of Pamela arose in his mind once again. Thomas was right. He loved Pamela as he had never loved Jane. He felt as though he was being ripped in two. Yet now both women were lost to him utterly...

  He was so wrapped in his welter of emotions he never even heard the commotion still going on inside the house.

  "Lawd, no!" the matron shouted.

  "He'll never touch me or my daughter again! The bastard!"

  A loud explosion made Jonathan dive against his sister's legs.

  He felt a searing pain in his head for a brief minute, and thought, "How strange, I came through the war, only to be shot by the woman who once loved me...."

  Sarah gripped him by his shoulders. "Are you all right?"

  "Aye."

  "When you fell, I thought, well-"

  "I'm fine."

  "You're bleeding!" she gasped, touching his brow.

  He shook his head and sat back on his heels now. "'Tis only a chunk of brick from the gate. It fell on me."

  Sarah looked up. She could see a large piece missing out of the tawny-colored stone structure, missing at about the level of Jonathan's head...

  "Come, Jonathan, now you can see, we can do no good here any longer. We must go," Sarah urged, horrified at how close she had come to losing him.

  "Indeed we must," he said grimly.

  He hauled her to her feet unceremoniously. Wasting no time to even check for injuries to her from the fall, he bundled her back into the carriage, and shouted to the driver to hurry on.

  Then he sat back against the squabs, and thanked the Lord for preserving him. Thy will be done. But could you please let me know a bit more clearly what it is? he begged with an inward sigh, before all composure finally left him, and he began to weep as though his heart would break.

  Sarah held him around the shoulders and prayed as she never had before. Please let Jonathan see the light about this situation, before it's too late for us all...

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Pamela sat in the coach hour after hour, struggling to get comfortable with each weary mile to London, for three days. The weather was inclement, the roads sometimes nearly impassable. Even when she was not on the road, she felt plagued by a host of troubles. The food was bad, the beds lumpy, some of them even flea-ridden.

  She did not think much of the Earl's arrangements. To be fair, he had not expected to be traveling with a pair of women, her aunt defended him.

  But all the same, it was bad enough travelling at such a breakneck pace, without having some respite. It seemed she would only just put her head down on the pillow in the various taverns they had stayed in, before she was being roused by a servant to get washed and dressed.

  Her aunt had been overwhelmed with the excitement of the trip to London, and so was in fine form and good company for the Earl despite all the discomfort and inconvenience.

  Pamela hoped Aunt Susan's liveliness more than made up for her lack of energy. But she was too heartsick and ashamed of what she had done in Bath to be a scintillating companion. Plus, the more time she spent with the dull Earl, the more she missed Jonathan with a passion bordering on despair.

  The fact that she knew they could never be together did not lessen the grief and longing she felt. Another attachment? Not free to do as he chose? She had no idea what he was hiding, why he had refused her. But she had to suspect that he was either already engaged, or worse still, already married.

  Even knowing might not have been easy to bear. But at least she would perhaps not have to reproach herself that it was all her fault that he had rejected her. That if she had done better, she might have been able to win his love.

  With all these heavy thoughts weighing upon her, she was remarkably silent, often just gazing out the window, or falling asleep as well as she could in the jouncing conveyance.

  When Pamela did take note of what was going on around her, she was surprised at the change in the man she had once found too quiet and reserved. The Earl must have been studying the fine art of intelligent conversation, for he began to cite revered authors and make pithy comments.

  When speaking of a person who had recently passed away whom everyone had gossiped about whilst he was alive, the Earl observed, "As William Hazlitt said, 'To be remembered after we are dead, is but poor recompense for being treated with contempt while we are living.'"

  "How true."

  Upon another occasion, when Jonathan's name had been mentioned, he remarked, "He is a good enough man in his way, but his manner leaves something to be desired. As David Hume wrote in Of the Standard of Taste, 'Religious principles are also a blemish in any polite composition, when they rise up to superstition, and intrude themselves into every sentiment, however remote from any connection with religion.'"

  "Oh, he is not that bad," Aunt Susan defended him, much to Pamela's surprise. "He's very well educated and informed, and for the most part I'm so pleased to speak with him that I seldom remember he is a vicar."

  The Earl said nothing, but looked at Pamela expectantly, as if waiting for her to defend him.

  "No, I agree
with the Earl, Aunt. He can be altogether too preachy, prim and parsonic so far as I am concerned."

  "I'm sure he only meant it for your benefit," Aunt Susan said with a mild frown.

  "Yes, dear, you know that that was the case," the Earl said mildly, though with a hard look in his dark eyes.