by Liese Anning
‘But, the other night, I thought I had made it very clear that I was never going to marry her.’ James replied, looking at his brother in disbelief.
‘I don’t know why you don’t want to marry her,’ his brother said, with a shrug of the shoulders, ‘as I have already mentioned, she has a large dowry and an excellent bloodline.’
‘You make her sound like a purchase from Tattersalls,’ James snapped.
‘Yes, it is,’ Lord Wrexham said in amusement, ‘choosing a wife is just like acquiring a new mare. You check the bloodline carefully, and make your purchase accordingly,’ Lord Wrexham said in reply to his brother. He leant forward and rested his arms on his desk, ‘I think she will do very well for you. Her family is well connected, and she will make you an excellent hostess to further your career.’
James shook his head, ‘but I do not even like her. She is selfish and self-centred.’
‘No-one said you had to like her,’ Lord Wrexham said, amusement still in his voice, ‘I’m certainly not fond of Charlotte, but, over the years, we have come to an understanding. She is, after all, an excellent hostess and does not interfere in any of my affairs. Charlotte, on the other hand, has a title and position in society. There is no doubt that we have both benefited from the arrangement.’
‘That is not the type of marriage I want to have,’ James replied, now looking directly at his brother and leaning on his desk, ‘I would like a wife who loves me for who I am. Certainly not another man’s cast-off.’
‘You really are deluded,’ his brother replied, amusement in his voice. ‘Love does not enter into a good marriage. Anyway, in my experience, love always fades into nothing. At least when you enter a marriage as an arrangement, you will never end up disappointed. I thought I was doing you a service the other night. A service for which you would eventually thank me for.’
Lord Wrexham then sighed and said, ‘at the time, it seemed to us to be an excellent solution to our little problem. You would get a wealthy wife, with excellent family connections, and I would avoid a messy scandal.’ He leant back in his chair once more, ‘It goes without saying that I will ensure that the child’s future is financially secure. Then, of course, there is the added advantage of it acquiring our family name. I don’t know why you should mind; it’s not as though the child wouldn’t be a blood relation. You would, after all, be its uncle.’
‘Have you not considered how suspicious it would look for me, coming home with a brand-new wife, who is about to give birth.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Lord Wrexham replied dismissively, ‘there may be a little gossip attached to the length of time between your marriage and the birth, but no-one will hold it against either of you. Once the child is born, all the scandal will soon be forgotten.’
‘How does Lady Caroline feel about the arrangement?’ James said, his voice still full of anger. ‘Does she think that she will be able to continue to be your mistress after she marries me?’
'Don’t worry about Caro,’ Lord Wrexham said emphatically, ‘I intend to give you Kingsley. It is a very handsomely located and profitable estate. It also has the added advantage of being at the other side of the country. We would rarely see each other, and she would soon forget me.’
‘I have seen the way she looks at you, and I doubt very much that she would forget.’ James said, shutting his eyes and rubbing his forehead. ‘And, I know that you are still infatuated with her. The other night, you couldn’t keep your eyes off her.’
‘I would never cuckold my brother’s wife,’ Lord Wrexham said firmly, ‘our relationship would be at an end.’
‘What about Charlotte?’ James asked, ‘does she know?’
‘Charlotte! Of course not.’ Lord Wrexham said, now laughing, ‘the stupid woman does not even suspect anything is amiss. She is still under the illusion that Lady Caroline is her best friend.’ He took a deep breath and then said, ‘if I could exchange Charlotte for Caroline, I would. Caroline is carrying my child, something that my own wife has failed to manage after years of marriage. I just want what any man, in my position, desires; a son and heir. If you were to marry Caroline and legitimise the child, I could have a son that would eventually inherit all my estates and titles.
‘What if the child is not a boy?’ James said, ‘it is certainly not a foregone conclusion.’
‘Caroline is convinced the child is a boy.’ Lord Wrexham said, holding his head up high, ‘and so am I.’
'Tris, I could die tomorrow,’ James said seriously, ‘this war is quite unlike any other I have fought in Spain or India. I do not think you should be relying on me to get you out of your domestic troubles.’
‘James,’ he replied nonchalantly, ‘you always come through these skirmishes unscathed. You have been in enough of them over the years.’
‘This is madness,’ James growled, ‘utter madness.’ He walked over to the door of the study and put his hand on the handle, ‘I have to go, but when I get back, I want this mess cleared up. I insist that, as soon as possible, there is a retraction of my betrothal in The Times. And, you must inform Lady Caroline and her father that the marriage will never take place. Tris, I do not want you, or anyone else, to meddle in my affairs. Is that clear?’
‘We’ll talk about this when you get back,’ his brother replied offhandedly, ‘when you are a little less tired and irritable.’
‘No, Tris,’ James said firmly, ‘you clear up this mess now. I will not tolerate anyone interfering in my personal affairs. If that means I will lose my inheritance; so be it!’
James then walked purposefully out the door, leaving his brother sitting at his desk, staring at the spot where his brother had been standing.
Chapter 27
Verity felt numb. She sat in a chair by the fire, in the Harrington’s drawing room, holding the small collection of items that had once belonged to her brother. She picked up his signet ring and began to feel the familiar pattern of the family crest, with the pad of her finger. Looking at her brother’s possessions, those precious items that he always carried with him, she felt empty inside.
‘He died honourably, doing his duty,’ Lord Harrington said gravely, ‘he was a brave lad, and you should be very proud of him.’
‘But pride does not bring him back,' she said bitterly, ‘he was too young to be fighting, far too young.’
'You are right, Verity,’ Lord Harrington said, taking her hand, ‘he was far too young to be in the thick of it.’
Lady Harrington walked over to her and then said, ‘come, my dear, you should go to bed. I will come and see you when you are ready.’
Verity stood up. As she walked towards the door, still clasping her brother’s things in her hands, she felt as though she was in a dream. There was another worldly feel to the room, and she felt like an observer, watching someone else's nightmare. At any moment, she thought to herself, she would wake up, and it would all be over. However, as she climbed the stairs to her bedchamber, that moment never came.
In silence, the maid helped her get ready for bed. When at last she lay down, still feeling numb, she was unable to shed any tears. 'If this was real,' she thought to herself, 'surely I would cry.' But, the tears refused to come.
The next morning Verity felt very drowsy. Lady Harrington, before going to bed, had given her a draft that had made her fall into a deep and dreamless sleep. She now felt groggy, and, for a moment, she had thought that the day before had been some horrible dream. It was not until she saw her brother’s possessions, on her bedside table that the reality, of the day before, dawned on her once more. She had lost her brother.
It must have been late in the morning, but the sound of the cannon that had been relentlessly thundering in the distance throughout the last two days had not yet begun. Verity had wanted to return to the make-shift hospital and continue to help with the wounded, but, every time she lifted her head from the pillow, black spots began to appear before her eyes. If she did not keep her head down, the spots grew, until they obscu
red her vision and she fell back into unconsciousness.
Just before midday, Lady Harrington came into her bedchamber, ‘Verity, my dear, you look terribly pale. I recommend that you stay in bed today.’
Verity, once more, tried to get up, but she still felt too weak. ‘I will stay and rest,’ she said laying her head back on the pillow.
‘Good,’ said Lady Harrington, ‘I have brought some warm milk, sweetened with a little honey. Drink it all up and try and get your strength back.’
‘Thank you, my lady,’ Verity said as she took the cup offered to her by her ladyship.
‘I will be up later to see how you are,’ Lady Harrington said as she got up to leave.
Lady Harrington had put another sleeping draft in the warm milk, and, consequently, Verity soon drifted back into the dark recesses of unconsciousness.
Later in the afternoon, when the artillery once more had begun its persistent firing, Verity woke up. She felt a little better and gingerly attempted to get out of bed. When she sat up, her head did not spin like it had done earlier that morning. The black spots that had prevented her from getting up earlier had gone, but she still felt numb. It was a strange feeling, quite unlike any she had experienced before. She felt detached from herself, it was like she was an observer, looking at someone else's life, not her own.
Lady Harrington came in and sat next to her on the bed. She took Verity’s hand in hers and said, ‘come down, my dear, and take a little tea with Harry and me. You will feel a lot better after a cup.’ Verity nodded, but she doubted Lady Harrington's statement about the tea. It was unlikely that a cup of a warm milky liquid would make her feel any better.
Verity spent the rest of the afternoon in the drawing room with Lady Harrington. They sat opposite each other in silence, listening to the sound of artillery that thundered continuously in the distance. Lady Harrington filled the time with her embroidery, while Verity picked up a book and kept it open on her lap. She occasionally glanced down at the same page and read the same sentence over and over again.
Lord Harrington left soon after tea, leaving the two women alone. He did not return until much later that evening, just as Verity and Lady Harrington were preparing to go to bed. ‘It is all over,’ he said to them as he entered the drawing room. ‘Napoleon has been defeated.’
Lady Harrington went over to her husband, ‘that is good news,’ she said, relief in her voice.
‘Wellington is reported to have said that is was a damn close-run thing.’ Lord Harrington said as he took his wife’s hands in his.
‘What about casualties? Lady Harrington said with concern, ‘did we lose many men.’
‘Far too many,’ Lord Harrington said quietly, ‘and many were severely injured.’
Lord and Lady Harrington then began to talk about their acquaintances that had been injured or killed during the battle. The conversation was a blur to Verity. She could not concentrate on the long list of names that Lord Harrington was recalling. She just sat staring at the dancing flames of the fire.
‘What about Colonel Mitford?’ Verity whispered, ‘did he…’ Verity could not bring herself to finish the sentence. Lord Harrington hesitated and looked at his wife. Verity knew from the expression on his face that the news was bad. And for the first time, since she had heard about her brother's death, tears began to well up in her eyes, ‘is he dead?' she eventually said in a whisper.
‘No, my dear,’ he replied, ‘he is alive, but…’ There was a long pause before he added, ‘he has been severely injured.’
Verity stood up quickly and said, ‘injured, how?’
‘Late this afternoon, he was shot in the shoulder. But, he refused to leave the field. It was not until he passed out that he retired from the conflict. He was brought back to Brussels this evening, and I do believe he was taken to his brother’s house. Do not worry, my dear,’ Lord Harrington said gently, ‘he has the best surgeons in attendance.’
Lady Harrington went over to Verity and put her hand on her shoulder, ‘come, my dear, it is time for bed. You need to rest. Tomorrow, Lord Harrington will enquire after him.’
Lady Harrington helped Verity to bed and gave her another sleeping draft. At first, Verity refused the glass of hot milk that she knew was laced with laudanum, but Lady Harrington had eventually persuaded her to take the draft. ‘Come, my dear,’ she had said, ‘Drink this, you will feel a lot better in the morning. Verity drank the draft, put her head on the pillow and soon drifted into unconsciousness.
It was late the next morning when Verity eventually woke up. Just like the previous night, she had had a dreamless sleep, and, this morning, she awoke still not feeling rested. Her head felt heavy, as she tried to lift it from the pillow, the after-effects of the drug was still affecting her mind. She slowly got out of bed and went over to the windows and opened the shutters to let in some sunlight. At first, the light almost blinded her, and she put the back of her hand over her eyes to shield herself from the sun's rays. Once she had blinked a few times, and her eyes had become accustomed to the morning sun, she looked out of the window into the garden below.
The scene that greeted her was so peaceful. Instead of the sound of artillery, the sweet sound of birdsong now filled the air. It was hard to believe that only yesterday, a few miles away, there had been so much death and destruction.
As she looked out of the window, at the peaceful scene, she thought about the two men she cared for. Her brother had died, and, for the rest of her life, she would have to come to terms with his loss. James, on the other hand, was not dead, he was injured. Verity kept thinking about him. As she knew very little about his injuries, only what she had been told last night by Lord Harrington, questions began to spin around her mind: How badly had he been injured? Would he make a recovery? Was he even still alive?
As she thought about those unanswered questions, she began to get dressed. In the absence of a maid, she put on one of her plain, dark blue dresses and put her hair up in a simple chignon. She grabbed a shawl, wrapped it around her shoulders and was ready to go. If she had taken the time to look in the mirror, she would have seen that she looked dishevelled. Verity, though never ostentatiously dressed, always looked neat and tidy. On a typical day, she would never have gone outside looking like she did. But this was no ordinary day.
Verity left the Harrington’s quietly, without anyone observing her departure. She almost ran up the street, and soon arrived at her destination; the Wrexham’s residence. The Butler took one look at her shabby appearance, and before Verity could introduce herself, she was shown into a small parlour at the front of the house. ‘I will notify her ladyship of your presence,’ he had said, looking at her with haughty disdain.
Verity sat down on a high-backed chair that was next to a side table. Her head was still swimming from the effects of the draft that Lady Harrington had given her. Verity was left alone in the parlour for about half an hour, but it felt much longer. Her head was beginning to ache, and she was becoming incredibly thirsty. She was starting to regret her hasty decision to come to this unwelcoming residence, with its haughty occupants, but it was now too late to change her mind.
At last, the parlour door opened, and Lady Wrexham, followed by Lady Caroline, came into the room. When they entered, Verity stood up a little unsteadily. Both women were immaculately dressed in the latest London fashions and held their heads up high. They stood in front of Verity and looked at her contemptuously.
‘I would enquire after your health,’ Lady Wrexham said harshly, ‘but it is quite evident that you are not well. You had better sit down before you fall down,’ she commanded, pointing at the chair that Verity had been sitting in.
Verity was now conscious of her unkempt appearance, but what she was not aware of, was how her face made her look almost haggard. Verity had naturally pale skin, but today it was sallow. The dark smudges, under her eyes, betrayed her lack of restful sleep. The two women, who now sat opposite, had no sympathy for her.
‘Why are y
ou here?’ Lady Wrexham said, after a protracted silence, ‘I take it that this is not a social call.’
‘I came to enquire after Colonel Mitford's health,’ she replied, holding her chin up and looking at Lady Wrexham in the eye. Verity knew, even in her weakened state, that this was not the time to show any vulnerability. She continued in a stronger voice, ‘I was informed that yesterday, he was shot in the shoulder.’
‘He was injured, and he is being attended by the best surgeons,’ Lady Wrexham replied sharply, ‘and he is being looked after by his close family.’ She turned around and addressed Lady Caroline, ‘is that not so Caro?’
‘It is,’ Lady Caroline replied, smiling at Lady Wrexham, ‘by his close family.’ She paused and then addressed Verity, ‘of course, being his betrothed, I am now considered to be part of that inner circle.’
‘I do not know what I would have done without Caro,’ Lady Wrexham said, looking at Verity in the eye, ‘she has been a rock for this family.’
‘If he is better, I would like to see him,’ Verity said, ‘I would like to thank him for…’
But before she could finish her sentence, Lady Wrexham had put up her hand and interrupted her. ‘I do not think that it is appropriate for you, a governess, with a questionable family history, to be seen in the presence of my brother-in-law.’ She stood up and walked over to where Verity was seated. She stood directly in front of Verity and looked down at her. Placing her hands on her hips, she said, her voice dripping with anger and contempt, ’Miss Stanford, whatever your relationship has been, with my brother-in-law, it is now over. Colonel Mitford is betrothed to Lady Caroline. Is that not so, Caro?’
‘Yes, we are, and we are both very much in love,’ Lady Caroline said with a smile on her face, ‘would you like to see the ring?’
Before Verity could answer, Lady Caroline was standing next to Lady Wrexham, her left hand outstretched towards Verity. ‘Is it not lovely?’ she said with a half-smile, ‘I do believe it belonged to James’s grandmother.’