‘That’s not what everyone believes.’
‘Including you, it would appear. How terribly sad, Rose’ - his eyes were dark, his voice husky with anger - ‘that you would honestly have so little respect for my integrity that you believe me capable of such pettiness?’
Rose shrank away. ‘What else was I to believe? You gave me no other explanation.’
Rampton released her so suddenly that she stumbled backwards and nearly fell. He did not see her. He was already striding away and once she had regained her balance she had to run to catch up with him. She could not let this argument go unresolved.
‘What was I supposed to think, Rampton?’ she demanded, moving in front to block his path. ‘You simply told me he was unsuitable. You made insinuations without hard evidence. Either I had to accept your edict or find out for myself.’
Rampton barely allowed his progress to be checked. As he walked around her he said, ‘I had assumed I’d found myself a wife who would value the judgement of her husband.’
‘So you are now suggesting that the real reasons are so terrible they could not be revealed to my innocent little ears.’ Rose’s tone dripped scorn as she added, ‘And now poor Arabella is to pay for my lack of faith in you? Is this a lesson in morality, Rampton? That a good wife will simply obey her husband without question because he tells her she should?’
‘Arabella will pay no price, my love.’ Rampton’s tone matched Rose’s scorn with irony. ‘I’ve told you. She will not wed Yarrowby.’
Rose gave a strangled laugh. ‘I see. Then why are we here?’ Struggling to keep up with him she indicated Yarrowby’s great mansion and the peacock-and-guest-strewn lawns with a sweep of her arm.
‘Because my plan has not yet come to fruition. Come, my love.’ He took Rose’s hand and laid it upon his arm. ‘Your sister is beckoning to us.’
Rose glanced across the lawn and saw, to her dismay, that Arabella, radiant with happiness and flanked by Charles and Helena, was waiting for them.
‘I see. Ever the knight to the rescue,’ Rose murmured, stifling her anger, her misery. ‘You know best … you have a plan …’
‘Yes,’ Rampton said, conversationally, smiling as the distance between them and Arabella closed. ‘I predict that very soon Arabella will lose her heart to another.’
‘Oh, you do, do you? And who might this be?’
‘My brother. Good evening, Arabella.’ He greeted her with an extravagant bow. ‘I believe Felix is to paint your portrait.’ With an indulgent look at Rose, he added, ‘It seems that painting your beautiful sister has whetted his appetite.’
Arabella dimpled. ‘I will be the envy of the ton and, like Rose’s portrait, I hope it will be a happy reminder to my husband of his good choice in a wife.’
Chapter Fourteen
ROSE PACED THE Aubusson carpet and pondered her dilemma. Arabella had left not two minutes before – breezed out would have been the more appropriate description – on her way to Mayfair to sit to Felix. Clearly she was thoroughly enjoying the sessions and, while Rose had wanted to warn Arabella against Felix, Rampton’s caution carried weight. Arabella was old enough to make up her own mind, he’d said. Unless Rose had a very strong case for Arabella marrying Yarrowby, rather than for Arabella making a match to please herself, Rose could rest assured that Felix was not a young man to undermine Rose’s good work merely for the pleasure of it.
Now the reason for Rose’s diminished spirits stood before her: a downcast girl whose enthusiasm and dedication to her work, good humour and surprising skill in arranging a complex coiffure had deeply impressed Rose. She had thought of employing Polly for herself and to find Beth some other employment, however Polly appeared to have formed a fondness for Arabella. Rose had thought the girl would be delighted to attend Arabella after her wedding but was now surprised by her obvious aversion to the idea.
‘But Polly, not only would your wages be greatly increased, your position would be far superior. If you stayed here it might take years before you became a personal dresser.’
‘That’s as may be, ma’am, but I don’t wish to leave.’
Rose had always thought Polly mild to the point of timidity. Frustrated, she demanded, ‘Why is it that no one wishes to accompany my sister? Has Arabella been unkind? Is she not as sweet and mild-mannered to the servants as she is to her family?’
Polly had dropped her chin on to her chest. This unusually sharp demand from her mistress caused her to jerk her head up and bite her lip.
‘It ain’t Miss Arabella, my lady. Lord knows, she’s the sweetest mistress and I’d have danced for joy at the prospect o’ accompanying her anywhere else.’ She took a deep breath, struggling. Then at last she blurted out, ‘But it’s the master I ain’t so fond of.’
For a moment Rose thought she was alluding to Rampton. Then realization dawned. ‘You mean Viscount Yarrowby?’
Polly nodded.
There was silence. Rose stared out of the window miserably as comprehension dawned. At last she asked, ‘And why has no one said anything?’
‘Weren’t our place, ma’am. And Miss Arabella’s been so ’appy in love.’
Deep dismay was now replacing Rose’s misery. It seeped through her bones. More insinuations. This time she had to discover something substantial.
‘Did it not occur to anyone that Arabella might be saved heartache herself – considering you all felt Lord Yarrowby was not an employer whom any of you would wish to work for?’
Polly didn’t answer. Her narrow shoulders slumped even further. At last, as the silence stretched into seeming eternity, she said in a small voice, ‘We talked about it, ma’am but … but then we decided that what great lords do to servants and what they do to fine-bred ladies surely ain’t the same thing. So we decided that, since Miss Arabella found him so to her liking, and her being a great lady and no common serving lass, he’d most likely be good to her.’
Rose digested this in silence for some moments. After a while she said, ‘So Lord Yarrowby chooses to take his pleasures in the servants’ attic?’ Distractedly she nibbled the tip of her forefinger. It was not a good reflection on the man’s character. Unfortunately, so many men did indeed take advantage of their staff. It was not as if Lord Yarrowby were the only one.
When Polly still did not answer Rose said, more sharply this time, ‘So you’re telling me that Lord Yarrowby made advances to the servants?’ She sighed. What should she do?
She moved to the window, her tone half apologetic as she turned, saying, ‘I’m afraid, Polly, that it is not only in Lord Yarrowby’s residence that such things happen—’
‘Well, it don’t ’appen here!’ Polly interrupted fiercely.
‘I am relieved to hear that,’ said Rose with a wry smile. ‘Nevertheless, it is, sadly, a well-established double standard that the way gentlemen cavort with obliging kitchen maids is not the way they deal with womenfolk of their own class.’
‘Well, it ain’t as if Jenny were that obliging,’ Polly muttered under her breath.
Rose, about to continue her exoneration of Lord Yarrowby, stopped short. ‘What did you say?’
Colour flooded the girl’s peaky little face. Eventually Polly raised a pair of defiant eyes. ‘I’m trustin’ you ’eard me first time, ma’am, as I don’t care to repeat it.’ Gone was the timid little creature with whom Rose was so familiar. ‘Jenny was my friend. I knew ’er ’cause we came from the same village and she’s sister to the master’s man, Fanshawe. Anyway, Jenny were a good, honest girl and, what’s more, about to be married. But she were too pretty by ’alf and my lord Yarrowby didn’t like that she objected when he tried to kiss her.’ The slumped shoulders rose and the voice became more resolute. ‘One day he chanced upon her, alone, in the scullery. It were late at night and she ’ad just one or two more things to finish up. Everyone else was abed ’cause otherwise we’d ’ave ’eard her screamin’.’ There was a long, uncomfortable pause. ‘Well, ’course, once she was … spoiled … and, what’s
more, ’aving a baby, she couldn’t marry Johnny. Oh, he wanted to, but she were set on that point.’
Rose’s chill deepened as Polly recounted her story. Of course, there was no proof that Jenny had been telling the truth, she told herself. She didn’t even know what kind of a girl Jenny really was. She asked, ‘Was Lord Yarrowby accused of the crime? I mean … it’s only Jenny’s word….’
Polly looked first confused, then affronted and Rose, despite the fact that she could not accept slander with no evidence, felt deeply ashamed. ‘No, it ain’t! Anyway, ’sides from the fact that Jenny ain’t no liar, there was bruises on her arms, and blood on her dress, and, what’s more, Rafferty, the butler, saw Lord Yarrowby sneakin’ up the back stairs minutes before he came down and found Jenny all hurt and cryin’.’
Rose didn’t need any more convincing. Added to her distress at Polly’s tale was the fact that Rampton had known of Yarrowby’s crime all along.
‘I’m sorry, Polly,’ she said, truly humble. ‘I had no idea of this. I think … perhaps … my husband knew something.’ Then, realizing that this sounded more like an accusation she was about to rephrase her sentence when Polly broke in, ‘’Course he did. Fanshawe’s been valet to my lord since the master came back from Eton, and Jenny’s ’is sister. The master’s bin supporting Jenny and the young ’un nigh on three years.’
‘But … but why was Lord Yarrowby able to get away with such a crime?’
Polly’s look made Rose squirm with embarrassment as the inequality of their respective situations was brought home to her. Great men like Lord Yarrowby were not brought to justice for raping mere kitchen maids.
Not three minutes after Rose had dismissed Polly Rampton strode, unannounced, into the drawing room.
The pale and drawn countenance his wife raised to his face, coupled with the fact that he had passed Polly in the corridor left Rampton in no doubt that Rose was now in complete possession of the facts. It had not been a certainty that one of the girls would volunteer the story. In fact, Rampton would not have been surprised if shame had kept their lips sealed.
‘Did you mean to make a fool of me, Rampton?’ Rose’s tone was bitter. ‘Or should I be apologizing for having misjudged you?’
Rampton shot her an ironic smile as he leant against the mantelpiece. ‘When I explain you can rest easy that I am indeed the base scoundrel your miscalculations forced you to wed.’
Before Rose could raise an objection he went on, ‘First of all, my dear, how would you have explained to Arabella that the man she professes herself to be madly in love with is, in fact, not just a philanderer, but a brute of the first order?’
She was silent.
‘Could you have found the right words to explain it to her? Would Arabella in fact have understood? It is my understanding that the mysteries of life are a somewhat neglected part of the education of a young, unmarried female.’
‘Yarrowby should have been brought to justice,’ Rose declared, hotly. ‘Then Arabella would never have found herself in such a situation.’
‘Of course, my dear,’ Rampton agreed, admiring the gold-andenamel snuffbox he withdrew from his coat pocket. ‘Unfortunately, justice is not always served – most often not served in such situations. I think you know that.’
‘But how could Yarrowby have the audacity to offer for Arabella, your own sister-in-law, when he knew you were acquainted with his crime?’
‘Yarrowby is a conceited villain. But he didn’t know’ — he stopped abruptly before adding — ‘He has a child, you know. But he doesn’t know that I know that. He doesn’t in fact believe that what he did was a crime, much less that it’ll ever be laid at his door. He thought he was quite safe in offering for Arabella.’
‘She’ll be heartbroken when she discovers the truth. Why did you allow the romance to progress … when you knew all along? It’ll be so much harder for her, now.’
Rampton hid his discomfort, saying in a careless tone, ‘Not when she is the object of so much flattering attention from other quarters.’
‘I perceive you have as much faith in her constancy as you do in mine.’
He ignored this, saying, ‘Arabella is so unworldly and ingenuous and this is only her first season out.’ Nevertheless, he was feeling decidedly guilty as he put his hands on Rose’s shoulders and looked deeply into her face. ‘Rose, I made it quite clear, several times, that I had good reason for warning you off Yarrowby. For a long time he withdrew his interest and it was only when you generously provided your sister with a portion that he returned.’
He was glad to see that her eyelids flickered as she silently acknowledged that she wasn’t guiltless. He went on, ‘I admit that when I spoke to you of it again, I should have furnished you with specific reasons. I don’t feel proud of the fact that I felt aggrieved and so instead of speaking plainly – though I wonder if you would have believed me - I decided to offer irrefutable evidence, such as has just been given you by young Polly.’
Rose shook off his hand and went to the window. ‘So what do you plan to do now? Confront Yarrowby and make him withdraw his offer? If you never intended Arabella to make a match with Lord Yarrowby, don’t you think it would have been more prudent to have acted earlier?’
‘You forget, Rose, I did try to prevail upon you to trust me in this.’ She was turning the screws upon his guilt and he didn’t like it. Yes, he was in the wrong – but so was she. Before she could answer he went on, ‘A man cannot withdraw his offer without risking a breach of contract. Not that I see Arabella driven by vengeance to such extremes. But Yarrowby is a cad. Arabella will soon discover this. Yarrowby thinks he is untouchable. He will soon find out he is not.’
Rose stared at him, as if the truth were only just now dawning. ‘You’ve played hard and fast with Arabella’s happiness in order to settle a score, haven’t you? What were you trying to prove? That where justice could not serve Yarrowby his just desserts, then you could?’
Had there been, unconsciously, an element of this? Rampton squared his shoulders. To hear it put like that made him distinctly uncomfortable but he said, smoothly, ‘That was not my first motivation.’ He studied the snuffbox in his hands. ‘Catherine gave me this,’ he said, opening the lid and trailing a finger over the engraving. He did not look at Rose to see her reaction. ‘You may be surprised to learn that lust is not the only motivation for taking a mistress. There is companionship … often mutual benefits in a wide range of matters. I was instrumental in her husband’s promotion, incidentally.’ Rampton closed the lid, pocketed the gilt box and directed his wife a level look. ‘And, of course, there has to be trust. That,’ he finished pointedly, ‘as much as anything else, is what this was all about.’
He looked at his watch. ‘My dear, we must get ready for Lady Gunther’s alfresco party.’
Rose could only stare. The flint in his deep blue eyes belied the easy tone before he delivered his coup de grâce, ‘And I was genuinely curious as to what kind of a husband you thought you had married.’ His eyes bored into hers with disarming intensity. ‘Quite obviously, you assumed you had married a petty tyrant.’
‘Naturally I shall withdraw the offer of the house,’ murmured Rose.
‘So now you wish us both to appear tyrants.’ He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Do you really want to deprive poor Arabella of any shoulders to cry on? Now, when is the contract to be signed? Tomorrow?’ Rampton appeared to be thinking. ‘You must remind Charles that you meant merely to offer the newlyweds the loan of the Mayfair house but that Arabella won’t come into possession of any proceeds until she’s twenty-one.’ He chuckled. ‘That should get Yarrowby’s back up.’
‘Arabella will be crushed. It’s not what was promised.’ Though Rose had no wish, now, to see the marriage go ahead, she felt unbearably compromised.
‘Of course it is! Besides, Yarrowby is a man of great fortune.’
Rose, still sickened by her interview with Polly and the fact Rampton had not disclosed, earlier, the real reason for
his objection to Yarrowby, felt close to tears. ‘How shall I explain it to Arabella? She’s just out of the schoolroom. I don’t think she’d even understand what … what Yarrowby is actually guilty of.’
Rose suspected by Rampton’s look that he too deeply regretted not having been more forthcoming, though to be fair, she had to accept it was not entirely his fault. Yarrowby had appeared to have withdrawn his interest in Arabella weeks ago and had only re-emerged as a serious suitor once the Mayfair house was incorporated into her sister’s dowry. ‘I cannot see Arabella reneging on this marriage, even though she’s the only one who can cry off.’
Rampton put his hand on Rose’s shoulder. The gesture, no doubt meant to be consoling, made her want to pull him down to the sofa beside her and curl into his arms. She felt ill, both in body and spirit. As she reached up a hand to stroke his, he pulled away and began to pace, muttering, ‘Far better to show Arabella Yarrowby’s less pleasant side: the real reason, in fact, behind his interest.’
Staring into the grate, he went on, ‘If Yarrowby is after Arabella because he loves her, why should it concern him whether the pecuniary benefits brought by this chit of a girl land in his lap next month, or in three years’ time? He’ll be devilish put out ’ - thoughtfully he rubbed his chin with his forefinger - ‘while Arabella will have no choice but to alter her mind and feelings when her erstwhile adoring swain turns ticklish over a few pence.’
***
Following the scandal caused by their hasty nuptials and the revelations of Rose’s deception, it had been Rampton’s great wish to show that he’d not only made a love match but that he was not a man who made hasty decisions he soon regretted. And nor was he.
He’d married Rose because he loved her with all the love of which he’d been capable. He still loved her. More than he believed possible.
Nevertheless, as he gazed at the moon and heard the babble of chatter all around him at Lady Gunther’s alfresco the following evening, he felt deeply concerned by the mire in which he and Rose seemed currently to be flailing.
A Little Deception Page 20