‘I really couldn’t say. The Dowager Lady Tregowan thinks that it is neither wise nor necessary to pander to—’
Rose had heard enough of what the Dowager Lady Tregowan thought. ‘We can move beds, quite easily, but is there any other furniture stored elsewhere? If so, then I would like to know, if you please.’
The answer to this was a visit to the cellars, reluctantly conducted, where Rose found stored any number of iron bedsteads, cupboards and chests of drawers, not to mention chairs, boxes, pictures, mirrors and coat stands, among other detritus.
Rose beamed at the housekeeper. ‘A veritable treasure trove. Well now, our first task is to scrub out the empty rooms. You can put the maids onto that job, Mrs Quintrell. Perhaps a lick of paint would not come amiss. I’ll speak to Mr Rowell and get him to organise the menservants to do that. They can then bring up the furniture we need. I shall put a chalk mark on each piece in advance so they will know which to take. The maids can then give everything a good polish. Are we agreed?’
Mrs Quintrell was looking rather as if she’d been asked to re-equip Buckingham Palace. ‘I would respectfully suggest that you speak to the Dowager Lady Tregowan first, milady. I doubt she’d welcome—’
‘You can safely leave that to me. I shall also look into the matter of more blankets. Ah, we should first check what bedding and curtains we have in the linen room. Would you do that for me, Mrs Quintrell?’ Rose politely asked, with her friendliest smile. ‘No point in buying new if there’s a treasure trove of linen too hidden away somewhere.’ She received no answering smile in response.
Following a second visit to Mr Rowell, and having put all arrangements in hand, Rose sighed with pleasure, a happiness which soon faded as she contemplated her final task: that of informing Lydia of her plans. Rose surmised that the housekeeper would by now have fully acquainted her mistress, her beloved Dowager Lady Tregowan, of everything that had gone on that morning. Even as this thought occurred to her, Rose received a summons to the small parlour, brought by a trembling maid the moment she’d finished speaking to the butler.
‘Thank you, Mr Rowell, I’m most grateful for your help in this matter. I appreciate it.’
‘The servants will likewise appreciate your efforts on their behalf, milady. You do, after all, have the right to make such decisions,’ he told her kindly, all sign of his earlier frostiness now melted under the warmth of her charm and compassion. ‘Let no one tell you otherwise.’
She smiled at him. ‘I hope you and I can work well together on this project, thus making life more comfortable for everyone. But if you meet with any problems, please do let me know.’
The two exchanged a look, almost as if they were conspirators in a plot. But if the butler’s change of heart lifted her own, Rose was soon cast down the moment she saw Lydia’s expression: one of white-faced fury. Even as she felt her heart sink, Rose told herself to hold fast to her courage. The servants in this great house needed a little more comfort and consideration, and not for a moment did she intend to give in to Lydia’s bullying. She’d come a long way from the shy young girl evicted from Ellis Island.
‘Lydia, I hope you are well?’ Rose said, her own cheerful words seeming to echo in the chilling silence. Her mother-in-law did not offer her a seat, but Rose took one all the same, thereby letting it be known that they were equals now.
‘Can I have heard correctly? Is what Mrs Quintrell tells me really true?’
‘That depends what it is she’s told you,’ Rose brightly remarked. ‘If she says we are in the process of opening up some of the unused attic rooms and giving them a lick of paint and a good scrub, then that is absolutely correct. I hadn’t realised we had so much space up there, enough to provide the servants with decent accommodation for them to sleep and store their clothes and belongings, effectively to live in much greater comfort. As I believe I remarked in an earlier conversation we had on this issue, I quite see that you do not have the time to deal with such matters, Lydia, and I did promise to help. It is all rather exciting.’
‘It is an absolute outrage! Good heavens, you’ll be putting their wages up next.’
‘Ah, indeed I may well do that as many don’t appear to have enjoyed a rise in some years. I don’t suppose Sir Ralph, poor man, was well enough to notice what his staff were being paid. But I mustn’t trouble you with such boring matters. Staff wages are something I can discuss with Jago at a later date.’
Lydia sat up very straight in her chair, her face now turning a dull shade of purple. ‘You will do no such thing. I will not have my wishes flouted, or any interference in the running of this house, as I think I made very clear when you first brought this idea to my attention. Servants are just that, here to serve, to wait upon us, not to live a life of ease and comfort. That would be quite against the order of things.’
‘But they are human beings too, and deserve proper respect and welfare,’ Rose sweetly reminded her.
‘They are housed and fed, what more do they need?’
‘A little care and attention, that is all, and we have the wherewithal to provide it without going to any extra expense. The cellar is stuffed with furniture. Isn’t that marvellous? So you can safely set aside any fears you might have on cost, Lydia, as there will be none. At least, very little,’ Rose assured her, getting to her feet as if the interview were over. ‘Now I really must help Mrs Quintrell to check out the linen room. I’m quite certain that too will yield further treasures. I’ll let you know how I get on.’
Lydia was left speechless, her mouth hanging open. The chit had not even the grace to ask her permission.
Chapter Nineteen
For no reason Rose could fathom, Bryce’s attitude slowly began to change towards her in the days and weeks following. Relations between them became oddly cool. He would go so far as to avoid her company during the day, come late to bed and then declare himself exhausted and lie with his back to her, not even touching her let alone loving her. Rose was bewildered.
If he did ever make love to her, driven perhaps by frustration or need, or else because she had pressed him into it, it would be a most matter-of-fact sort of coupling. No longer did Rose hear the loving words he’d used in the early months of their marriage, there were no more tender kisses or exciting caresses. It was all very brisk and speedy, over in minutes, then he would turn from her and fall instantly asleep, or give every impression of such.
‘Is something wrong?’ she queried one night, heart-sore with worry. ‘Are you sick?’
‘Do I appear sick?’
‘N-no, but you seem somehow rather distant. Have I done something wrong, Bryce? I can only assume you are disappointed in me for some reason. That I have failed you.’
‘Why should you have?’ he grunted, head buried in his pillow.
‘Perhaps you’ve decided that I’m really rather unsuitable as a wife, too low class, or entirely inadequate as chatelaine of Penver Court?’
He didn’t even look at her as he answered, keeping his back firmly turned away, and an acre of bed between them. ‘Don’t be foolish, I told you to leave the housekeeping to Mama. It really isn’t important who does it.’
‘It is to me because I wish to be useful. If that is your reason for turning from me, perhaps because of your mother’s complaints, then it is quite unfair. The fact is …’ Rose was longing to tell him of the progress she was making opening up the abandoned rooms in the attic. She’d tried on numerous occasions but he never seemed interested.
‘Mama has made no complaints. Go to sleep, it’s all in your imagination – clearly a rich one that serves you well.’
‘I don’t think she’s very happy with what I’m doing,’ Rose responded, not picking up on his sarcasm. Whatever the reason for his apparent disappointment in her, Rose loved him, therefore she persisted, desperate to put things right between them. ‘I am trying to fit in, really I am. But your mother does everything. She liaises with Mrs Pascoe over the meals, organises the lunches, parties, soirées and su
ch. She scolds the maids if they don’t do their job to her satisfaction, and is entirely responsible for hiring and firing them. She instructs the gardeners on what needs to be done in the gardens, and even does the flowers for the house herself. So if I am idle, of which she often accuses me, it is because there is nothing for me to do. Therefore, much against Lydia’s wishes, I’ve started to take an active interest in servant welfare. I feel it right for me to do so.’
‘If it makes you happy, why not? So long as it doesn’t offend Mama,’ he mumbled, pulling the sheet over his head as if to block out the sound of her voice.
Rose experienced a jolt of pain deep in her heart. Why was he ignoring her? She had the urge to shake him, to laugh him out of this gloom he’d sunk into for some reason, to tease and flirt as they used to. But she was far too miserable to risk it, afraid he might be angry, or reject her. Girding her patience, she maintained her calm and gentle approach. She smoothed a hand over his hair, leant over to kiss his head, or what she could see of it peeping above the sheets.
‘My love, I want only for us to be happy, as we were until recently. I know the rich have rules of their own, which I do not always understand, but I love you so much. Will you not tell me in what way I have upset you? I agree that your mama as the Dowager Lady Tregowan is still very much mistress here, even though the house now belongs to Robbie – my son.’ Rose always felt a little tremor inside at this lie. Yet she could not have loved the child more had he truly been so.
Flinging back the covers as if she had said something which annoyed him, Bryce glared at her, his eyes cold and shrewdly assessing. ‘Is that right? Penver Court now belongs to your son, does it? How very fortunate.’
Rose sat up, in some distress, but his stern expression in the light of the bedside lamp offered little reassurance. ‘Bryce, what is it? You know this to be true. Are you jealous or something? I did speak to Mr Wrayworth, as you suggested, but he can see no reason to ask Jago to step down. Were you wanting to take his place, because if so, I could ask again? Just tell me what you want.’
‘I want you to stop lying to me.’
Rose stared at him, numb with shock. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Yes, you do.’ He almost spat the words at her. ‘I know that you were a widow when we married, but little else about you, save that you lived in Toronto and come from a middle-class background, or even poorer for all I know. No doubt you considered your marriage with Robert an excellent way of lifting yourself higher up the social ladder, and providing a good future for the child you were expecting. After he died, you then decided to seek out Sir Ralph as a means of ensuring that fortune was secure.’
Rose sighed, feeling a strange sort of relief. ‘Not that old chestnut again. Are you still doubting my word, after all we’ve been to each other? Why, for goodness sake? What has changed?’
Bryce’s expression now was heartbreakingly sad, his disappointment at her alleged betrayal only too apparent. ‘Who was your lover – was it Joe, as I once suggested? He claims to be innocent of that charge but can I believe him? Can I trust either of you?’
Tears sprang to her eyes, unable to believe what she was hearing. ‘You’re playing the same cruel game as Jago. What are you suggesting?’
His expression was chilling, very much resembling that of his brother. ‘I am saying, Rose, that if you find yourself obliged to share your newly won fortune with us, Sir Ralph’s second family, you have no right to complain. I’ve learnt your little secret, you see. You can stop this pretence now, I’ve had the truth confirmed.’
Rose was devastated. He knew! He had learnt her ‘little secret’. What else could he mean but that he knew her true identity? Who had told him? Surely not Joe, who was equally concerned for his own skin. But then, if that were the case, why did Bryce not confront her with the whole story? Why did he not reveal the full extent of this new knowledge instead of dragging out all that old nonsense about Robbie being the child of her lover?
Before she could gather her wits sufficiently to find an answer, he blithely continued, ‘I have learnt that your child is in fact illegitimate, that you are indeed a fortune-hunter! You have made a fool of me, and my mother and brother were right all along. Except that I may well have married you for the same reason. Should I choose to expose your lies, we could both be the losers. That is almost funny, in the circumstances.’
If he made this remark out of bravado, or to save his injured pride, Rose did not recognise it as such. She felt as if she’d been punched in the face. Bryce, her lovely husband of only twelve months, appeared to be suggesting their marriage was nothing more than a sham, that he had never loved her. As much a rogue as Jago, he must have duped her completely, and merely married her for the money. Never, despite everything she’d been through and suffered, had she felt more wounded, more betrayed. How could he think so little of her? How could he treat her with such cruel contempt?
‘Get out! If that’s what you believe, I don’t want you anywhere near me.’
Deeply hurt by this rejection of their love, Rose rather dramatically ordered Bryce from her bed. Worse, he did indeed leave it, storming off to sleep in his dressing room. Rose spent the rest of that night sobbing her heart out.
First thing the next morning Rose ran straight to Joe. ‘Have you been talking to Bryce? He says he knows my “little secret”. Did you spill the beans and tell him everything?’
Quickly putting a hand to her mouth, he glanced about the barn where he was cleaning the Ford motor. ‘Shut up,’ he hissed, as Rose furiously struggled to be free. Finally satisfied they were alone, he released her and turned back to his polishing. ‘So what are you accusing me of now?’
‘Bryce has been behaving oddly over these last few weeks, barely speaking to me.’
Joe snorted his disdain. ‘Married life not turning out quite as much fun as you’d hoped, is that it?’
‘I’ve realised that this strangeness started around the time he started to look for proof over the damaged rocking horse. Did he speak to you then? What did you tell him?’
Joe kept on rubbing the windscreen with the wash leather, as if he really wasn’t interested in what she had to say. ‘That’s right, blame me for everything, as usual. Your best friend if you need me to do something for you, otherwise you treat me with complete contempt.’
‘Is it any wonder with this silly jealousy of yours? I thought I knew you, Joe Colbert, but ever since I met dear Rosalind you’ve changed. You’ve become obsessed with money.’
‘I was obsessed with surviving!’ he snapped right back at her, flinging the leather back into the bucket so that it sprayed water everywhere. ‘I don’t recall you being too keen to sell your charms on the waterfront, so don’t look down your nose at me now you’ve joined the ranks of the high and mighty, Rosie Belsfield.’
‘That’s unfair!’
‘It’s the truth. We did what we did because we had no choice.’
‘We had every choice! And there have been a thousand chances for us to come clean since. But you never intended this to be a short-term plan, did you? You always meant to keep the deceit going because you had an eye to the main chance. That’s why you wouldn’t let me speak out. I can see that now.’
‘And I was right.’
‘No, you were wrong, Joe. You’ve got us into this mess, and there’s no way out of it. Oh, what’s the use, you never listen, and I’m in far too deep now to even try. Like it or not, we have to keep silent, for ever if necessary. Our lives depend upon it.’
Rosie Belsfield, was that the name? And what, exactly, had Joe got her into, and why must they keep silent? Jago, out in the courtyard, hidden behind the barn door, had listened avidly to every word. Whatever the mystery might be, it was clear the pair were in it together, up to their stupid necks. It looked like a bit of snooping was most definitely called for.
Keeping a close eye on Rose for the rest of that morning, Jago patiently waited until lunch was over and she’d taken the child out
for his afternoon walk, then slipped up to the nursery wing. No doors were ever locked so he had no difficulty in letting himself in, where he began a systematic search, taking great care not to disturb anything as he had no wish to alert her. He carefully rummaged through every drawer, riffled through her wardrobe, dipping his fingers into every pocket and bag. When he found the writing slope, Jago painstakingly slid letters from envelopes to quickly scan them and fold them as carefully away again.
He’d been searching for over twenty minutes and found nothing to prove the child a bastard, as there surely must be somewhere, nor any evidence of this new name: Rosie Belsfield.
Going over to the bed he ran his hands under the pillows, then under the mattress. Nothing. Yet still Jago kept on looking, convinced that if he searched long and hard enough, he would find something eventually.
He took a step back to look about him. A floorboard creaked beneath his foot, and upon the instant he knew. Going down on his knees, he easily prised it up and brought out the tin box from under the bed. Somewhere outside in the courtyard he heard laughter. Chattering voices, the clop of horses’ hooves and the giggle of a child. No doubt the devoted mother was letting young Robbie feed carrots to the horses, but she’d be here any minute to put him down for his nap. As these thoughts raced through his head, Jago found what he was looking for. Scarcely glancing at the documents, he slipped them into his pocket, quickly returned the box to its hiding place, replaced the floorboard and let himself quietly out.
Safely back in the peace and privacy of his own room, Jago was stunned by what he read, not at all what he’d been expecting. He’d always suspected that Rose had deliberately withheld her marriage certificate, now he could guess why. The dates were all wrong, which was a puzzle. The second document was even more disturbing. For some time after he’d finished studying them both he sat staring into space, thinking through the implications. Then he pulled out pen and paper and began to write at once to the shipping company for more details. Someone must know more about this tale, and when he’d finally unearthed all the answers, then he would make his move.
My Lady Deceiver Page 23