And as things had turned out, it was proving to be an even greater problem for Rose.
‘How did it go?’ Joe’s voice in her ear brought her whirling about.
‘Oh, thank goodness, there you are! It was dreadful, quite dreadful. We can’t do this to them. I can’t pretend to be what I’m not. It’s wrong, it’s criminal. Lady Tregowan blames me for her sons being deprived of their inheritance. Were she to learn the truth, that I am not Rosalind, she would call the constabulary, I swear she would. Then you and I both would find ourselves in clink.’
‘Hush now, calm yourself, Rosie. It’s not so bad as all that.’
‘But it is, I tell you. It’s awful! I can’t think how we’re going to get out of this mess.’ Rose started to weep, couldn’t seem to stop babbling. She rushed on with her explanation, telling Joe about her cold reception at the funeral and the wake following, then giving him a summary of the will, so far as she could remember it.
Unfortunately, Joe didn’t seem to be listening. He was patting her hands, urging her to keep her voice down, then pulling her along the corridor and out through a side door into the garden. Rose was almost surprised to find that the sun was still shining, that it was a perfectly normal spring afternoon. Yet how could it be when her life was in turmoil, her entire world falling apart? Only when they were hidden behind a large rhododendron bush did Joe take the time to answer her questions.
‘As I understand it, those two are only stepsons so have no right to inherit anything. And unless we tell her, how will Lady Tregowan ever discover the truth?’
‘But it would be a lie!’ Rose groaned. ‘And I can’t live a lie. It’s wrong, don’t you see? I’m not going to argue with you about this, Joe, I’ve made up my mind. I shall speak to Bryce Tregowan just as soon as he comes out of that meeting.’
Panic crossed Joe’s face at this suggestion. ‘No, you mustn’t do that. Think what you’re saying, what you’re risking. You said yourself they might call the police.’
‘The only other alternative is to run for it. We could go tonight, when they’re all asleep, then no one would see us go.’
‘And what would they think tomorrow when they realised that Lady Rosalind Tregowan had gone, apparently run off with her manservant? They wouldn’t necessarily assume that you’d gone willingly. They might think I’d abducted you, might demand a ransom because of that money you’ve inherited. Then what would happen to me if they set up a hue and cry and a search party caught up with us? They’d lock me up and throw away the key, that’s what.’
Rose put her hands to her face in horror. ‘Oh, my goodness, I never thought of that. Oh, Joe, the deeper we look into this mess, the more trouble we’re in. What are we going to do? There is no solution, none that I can see.’
‘Aye, there is – you stick with our story,’ he urged, his tone harsh. ‘You carry on being Sir Ralph’s daughter-in-law, for now, until we can work something out. And look on the bright side – at least you’ll be with little Robbie.’
Rose’s expression was bleak as she nodded. But deep in her heart she was certain that there must be a better way out of this mess, if only she could think what it might be.
Having agreed with Joe that they’d speak again about this problem, once they’d had time to think things over more carefully, Rose made her way to the kitchen to collect Robbie. She hadn’t gone more than a few yards along the garden path, however, when she was confronted by Lady Tregowan herself, a very angry Lady Tregowan, her younger son by her side.
‘I suppose you think you’ve won.’
‘I-I don’t know what you mean.’ The very sight of this woman turned Rose into a gibbering wreck. Bryce was looking as disinterested as ever, and every bit as handsome. ‘None of this – the will and all that – has anything to do with me,’ Rose protested.
‘It has everything to do with you. Had you not written your begging letters to Sir Ralph, he would have surrendered to common sense and left a proper inheritance to my boys, who have both been better sons to him than his own.’
‘I didn’t write any begging letters. When I-I wrote informing him of his son’s death, Sir Ralph offered me a home without being asked.’ It seemed entirely wrong to be telling Rosalind’s story as if it were her own. Rose consoled herself with the thought that she was defending her friend, as well as protecting her precious offspring.
Lady Tregowan took a step closer, nostrils flaring as she met Rose almost eye to eye. Her skin was perfect, Rose couldn’t help but notice, but then she was still a beautiful woman for all she must be well into her forties.
‘Let me make it very clear that the “family” will never leave Penver Court. You will not rob us of our home, nor ever gain control of this estate, not in my lifetime.’
Bryce gave a low growl deep in his throat. ‘Mama, do not say such things. There is really no need for you to be quite so overprotective. We can manage perfectly well without—’
‘Shut up!’ Dismissing her son with an irritable flap of her hand, she relentlessly continued. ‘The old baronet may be dead, but whether you are the mother of the next, or he’s just some bastard you’ve foisted on us, has yet to be proved. I very much doubt a dying man capable of getting himself a son.’
Rose gasped, feeling a great surge of anger at this slight upon little Robbie. ‘How dare you suggest such a thing! He most certainly is the baronet, and not … what you say he is.’ She couldn’t bring herself to use that dreadful word. Sadly, Rose now realised there was serious danger of Rosalind’s child being written off as the impostor, rather than herself. Which was unthinkable. And all because of Joe’s foolishness.
‘I think we should be a little more circumspect in our language, Mama,’ Bryce gently scolded her. ‘Although I accept that everything must be gone into most thoroughly, I’m sure we can safely leave all of that to old Wrayworth. In any case, you might see a family resemblance. The child may have Robert’s long nose,’ he quipped, as if attempting to lighten the growing tension between the two women.
‘I very much doubt it.’ Crimson lips twisted with contempt. ‘I am not so gullible as stupid Robert. No doubt he accepted the boy out of desperation, thinking it would put him back in his father’s favour.’
Rose gasped. ‘He did not! He didn’t even know that sh—that a baby was on the way before he tragically died.’
‘How very fortunate. Thereby sparing you any difficult explanations.’ Lady Tregowan laughed, a bitter sound that held no humour in it.
‘Robert is his father, I swear it!’ But I am not his mother, Rose silently added, biting down hard on her lower lip to prevent the words from escaping. She was all too aware of Bryce Tregowan’s narrowed gaze upon her, of doubt in those burning charcoal eyes, and something else she couldn’t quite put a name to.
‘You’ll rue the day you came here seeking an easy fortune, girl. Mark my words. I will do all in my power to foil your little scheme.’ And with that parting shot, Lady Tregowan walked away, head held high.
I don’t have a little scheme, Rose longed to say. Oh, but Joe did, and this woman’s attitude towards her had only made it more difficult to confess the truth. ‘I really will not be interrogated in this way,’ she said instead, in what she hoped was a suitably haughty manner, as she desperately tried to guess how Rosalind herself would have reacted to such an accusation.
Watching Lydia stalk proudly up wide stone steps, the door opened for her by a waiting footman, Bryce said, ‘I won’t attempt to apologise again for my mother’s attitude because she does have a point, however badly expressed. I rather think we do have the right to ask questions. I’d like to hear more of this Canadian upbringing of yours. Where were you born, for instance? Town or country?’
The tone was mild but the expression in his charcoal gaze was keen.
Rose wasn’t entirely sure where Canada was. Presumably somewhere near America, and cold? That was the sum total of her knowledge. But then schooling had not featured greatly in her life on Fishponds Road,
and she’d missed much of what little was available by having to mind her brothers and sisters while her mother worked. She’d learnt the three R’s, how to sew and darn a sock, but not much more. And she knew even less about Rosalind’s childhood. Yet to make something up would only enmesh her in further lies. ‘I was born in a city, and come from a large family,’ Rose said, deciding to stick close to the truth. ‘But I really don’t see my upbringing is any business of yours.’
‘Ah, now there I must disagree, and take my mother’s side. It is asking a great deal of us for you to simply turn up, out of the blue, and not expect us to be curious about you. You say you and Robert married only recently. How recent was that exactly? What kind of a wedding was it? And why did he not inform his father?’
Rose had no answers to give. She had no idea whether Robert had invited his father to his wedding, or when it had taken place. Rosalind had talked a little about her marriage but Rose had paid no attention to the details, not realising she would ever find herself in this impossible situation. ‘H-he wasn’t speaking to Sir Ralph at the time, and it was a very simple wedding, in New York.’ Oh no, now she’d committed herself to yet more detail.
‘New York? So when did you leave Canada? And where did you say you lived as a child?’
Yet again Rose fell silent as she desperately tried to recall the map their teacher used to show them, the parts of the British Empire all shown in red. Sadly, she couldn’t bring Canada to mind, nor the name of a single town in all of that vast country. And she was having great difficulty understanding Bryce Tregowan’s attitude towards her, surprisingly supportive while his mother was attacking her, now bombarding her with questions.
‘Was it Toronto?’
Rose grabbed at the suggestion with relief. ‘Yes, Toronto. My parents moved to New York a few years ago where I met Robert. We fell in love and married. What is the mystery about that?’
‘Perhaps you have a marriage certificate, to prove what you say?’
‘Of course!’ Rose briskly retorted, hoping against hope there was such a document among Rosalind’s possessions, although the date of it might present problems. ‘Once I have unpacked, assuming I am ever shown to a room and allowed the time to settle in, that is, I shall be delighted to find it for you.’ She was relieved to see that Bryce looked instantly discomfited by this criticism.
‘How very remiss of us. I will take you to your room myself.’
‘Please don’t bother; I have to collect the baby from Tilly. Your maid, at least, is helpful and most welcoming, and has calmly and efficiently taken Robbie to her heart. The Tregowan family might do well to learn some better manners from their own servants.’
This parting shot was a little below the belt, but Rose had been seriously unnerved by this barrage of questions. With a deep sense of relief she turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen, although not without a fast-beating heart and some trepidation in her troubled soul.
Less than half an hour later Rose found herself settling into the nursery wing on the east side of the house. The bedroom allotted to her was quite simple, with a narrow bed and shabby green curtains that had seen better days, probably once used by the family’s nanny. But Robbie would be close by in the room next door, and there was also a small parlour for her private use, perhaps once occupied by the governess.
‘It just needs a bit of a clean through before you use it, but then this isn’t the finest suite of rooms in the house,’ Tilly apologised. ‘It does benefit from being some distance from the west wing where the rest of the family reside, so you’ll have some privacy.’
Rose did not doubt for one moment that Lady Tregowan had deliberately chosen to accommodate her in the worst possible rooms she could find, a decision only justified by them being the nursery suite. ‘This will do fine, Tilly. I am more than content.’ By comparison with the filthy, rat-infested, overcrowded hovel she’d shared with her entire family on Fishponds Road, this stark bedroom felt like a palace.
‘You should see our quarters,’ Tilly went on, as she hooked back the curtains in an attempt to let more light into the room.
‘Really, why, what’s wrong with them?’
Tilly actually blushed. ‘Aw, nothing, milady. I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn. I’ll leave you to settle in. Should you need anything, you’ve only to call.’ She indicated the bell pull that hung beside the small Victorian black fire grate, then, with a warm smile and bobbing a hasty curtsey, quickly withdrew.
‘Now, what was that all about?’ Rose murmured to herself, making a mental note to visit Tilly’s room at the first opportunity. Right now, she had enough problems of her own to deal with. And jiggling the baby in her arms, she looked about her in bewilderment.
Rose walked to the window, set high in the roof, to gaze down upon the wide lawns and rose gardens far below, the twin rows of beech trees that lined the long drive down which she’d recently travelled with hope and optimism in her heart. The sight made her feel almost like a prisoner, and it crossed Rose’s troubled mind that she could make no escape from this window.
She’d also noticed, as Tilly had brought her up the stairs and along a narrow landing, that these led directly from the back hall right by the kitchen, laundry and utility areas of the house, where surely servants would be busy at most hours of the day, and even through the night.
‘There is an exit from the nursery wing that leads to the main staircase for you to reach the dining room, but the back way is the shortest route, milady, if you’re ever carrying heavy bags,’ Tilly had explained.
Which made perfect sense, as a nanny or nursemaid would use the back stairs for the most part, wouldn’t they? But Rose’s idea of slipping away with Joe under cover of darkness now appeared to be fraught with difficulties.
Most of her belongings had already been unpacked by Gladys, one of the maids, and Rose stared in wonder at the row of gowns, skirts, jackets and blouses, in every hue and for every occasion, that now hung in the armoire. Fortunate as it may be that she and Rosalind were of a size, and her clothes would no doubt fit her, it seemed entirely improper that she, humble Rosie Belsfield, should wear them. This wasn’t at all what Rosalind had intended when she’d suggested Rose dress in her clothes, which was for identification purposes only. She’d offered her a chance of employment, not to take over her identity. How could it have come to this?
Joe, of course, was the answer to that question. He was the one who had landed them both in this mess. And how they would ever get out of it was quite beyond Rose’s imaginings, but she most certainly meant to try. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
‘Come in, it’s not locked,’ she called, setting the sleeping baby down in his crib. What a sweetie he was. She loved him dearly already. All that truly mattered was that she do what was best for Robbie.
‘I beg your pardon for intruding, but I thought I should properly introduce myself.’
Rose smiled, reaching out a hand to offer her guest a seat. ‘It’s Gwenna, isn’t it? Do come in.’ Rose thought the girl lovely, if with a decided pout to her full lips. ‘How kind of you to call. Are you content to remain here in the bedroom while we talk? The room that is to be my personal parlour hasn’t been prepared yet, or so Tilly informs me.’
‘This won’t take long,’ Gwenna said, flouncing out her skirts as she made herself comfortable on the only chair, leaving Rose to sit on the dressing stool. ‘I thought it best to call and make my situation clear from the start.’
‘Oh?’ Rose frowned, not quite sure what was meant by this.
‘I must say you are exceedingly fortunate to have been left so much money in the will. Poor Jago is devastated at having been so callously ignored.’
‘I’m sorry about that, obviously, but it was not of my making. I never even met Sir Ralph … er … my father-in-law.’ What a strange way to introduce oneself by going instantly on the attack.
‘Jago is so sweet,’ Gwenna continued, as if Rose had not interrupted. ‘But
he is a proud man and does not care to be passed over. Penver Court means everything to him.’
‘I’m sure it does. I can only sympathise,’ Rose agreed, wondering where this might be leading, and deciding to say as little as possible.
The other girl was sitting up very straight in the chair, hands neatly clasped on her lap. ‘You may not know this, but Jago and I are practically engaged. We would have been already had not Sir Ralph died and the family plunged into mourning. Jago is a most handsome man, as I’m sure you’ll admit.’
‘Indeed,’ Rose said, thinking entirely the opposite, but then they did say that beauty lay in the eyes of the beholder.
‘He has the reputation of being something of a ladies’ man, but it’s not true,’ she insisted, rather vehemently. ‘Naturally, because of his good looks he is very attractive to women, and finds such attention flattering.’
‘I am sure he will make a most devoted fiancé.’
The baby-blue eyes sparked with annoyance. ‘I mean that I would not take it kindly were he encouraged to stray by others with more to offer than myself.’
Rose looked at her blankly for a moment. ‘I’m not sure I quite follow …’
Gwenna bounced up most inelegantly from her seat to look down upon Rose with derision on her pretty face. ‘I think you do. You are reasonably pretty, although no beauty, admittedly. However, with money and position, far more than I possess despite being well provided for by my late parents, Jago might well find you attractive.’
‘Goodness, I think you are worrying unduly. Let me assure you, Gwenna, that encouraging Jago is the last thing on my mind, even were he not affianced to your good self.’
‘Almost affianced.’
‘As you say.’ Rose stood and held out a hand to her, only just managing not to laugh out loud. The girl was making the fellow out to be easily led astray by wicked women, of which she apparently was one. ‘I fully respect your situation, and would not for the world seek to intrude upon such a close relationship.’
My Lady Deceiver Page 9