by Em Taylor
Lucy had never heard a lady, other than herself use that word and she stopped for a moment, regarding the perfectly cultivated flower beds. The spring flowers were a riot of colours. Bees, flies and other insects were buzzing around in the unseasonably warm day.
“Eleanor is your granddaughter, Mrs Dick. Edward and I made love three times before he went to war, and he left me carrying his babe. I thought he loved me and intended to marry me.”
“Then you were a fool and a harlot. How many other men did you lift your skirts for? Half the village, no doubt.”
“No, Mrs Dick. Only your son. I came here to tell him when he first came home but he was insensible. I wanted him to know he was a father.”
“He is not a father. I do not believe you. You have no proof that imbecile child is his.”
“No, I cannot prove it. And she is no imbecile just because she cannot hear. She is bright and intelligent and can lip read and use our own signing language. If you got to know her…”
“I have no desire to get to know her. She is nothing to do with me or Edward. She is the child of a whore. Nothing more, nothing less. Stop upsetting my son. You have what you want. Miss Davis told me that Lord Whitsnow is smitten with you and plans to marry you soon.”
Lucy was not sure how she was still standing upright. She had just been called a whore and the woman had continued talking as though it was nothing.
“I should like to speak to Lieutenant Dick before I leave and see if he wants to have anything to do with his daughter.”
A hand on her elbow alerted her to the fact that Robert was behind them.
“Miss Butterworth.” His voice was low and kind. “Ma’am,” When he addressed Mrs Dick, however, his tone was icy. “When you speak to my fiancée you will speak to her with deference and you shall certainly not call her daughter a bastard nor she a whore. One day Eleanor will find out about her true parentage, but for now, Lieutenant Dick is too ill to take responsibility for the child. So as far as everyone else is concerned, I made a mistake six years ago, have realised the terrible and awful thing I have done and plan to make it up to the love of my life and my child. You, Miss Butterworth, and I are the only people who will know who is Eleanor’s real father. I am choosing to clean up the mess your son left behind. I do not believe he intended to do right by Miss Butterworth given the lies he told her, but we shall never know. War may have changed him, and he would have come back a less selfish individual. If you ever have a change of heart with regards to seeing your granddaughter, you would be most welcome at Aelton Manor. I am sure we can come up with a suitable explanation for your presence. But you are only welcome if you can be civil to my wife and child. Good day to you Ma’am.”
And with that, he marched them back through the French doors, past Edward who seemed to be digging in the falls of his breeches, and into the hallway beyond.
They met the gentleman who had met them at the door.
“Lieutenant Dick is a little agitated. What he is doing may upset his mother. Could you… uh, sort out the problem.”
“Ah, I understand, My Lord. It happens sometimes. Thank you.”
“You are most welcome. We can see ourselves out.”
Robert led Lucy through the hallway and out to the front door where a young lady, her maid and another member of staff stood conversing. Robert stopped abruptly.
“Jo!” He barked “I mean Lady Joanna. What the devil are you doing here?”
The young lady turned her head. She was beautiful. About Lucy’s age with pale skin, a lithe figure and dark, almost black hair. Her brown eyes widened when she saw Robert.
“Robbie.” She seemed to take a couple of seconds to collect herself and Robert stood motionless. She could tell he was furious. What was their relationship? She had called him Robbie. “It is none of your business Lord Whitsnow.” The young woman’s chin jutted out in defiance.
Robert looked at the member of staff. “Leave us!” he commanded. The man bowed and disappeared. “Jo, For Christ’s sake.”
“Stop taking the Lord’s name in vain. There are ladies present.”
“You were never a lady, Titch.”
Lady Joanna nodded at Lucy. “Mayhap but your companion looks to be a lady of good breeding.”
Robert turned to Lucy. “Aye, Lady Joanna Rose-Reid, may I introduce Miss Lucy Butterworth, my betrothed.”
“You are getting married? And yet I have not spotted the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse yet.”
“Very droll. Look Jo.”
“Lady Joanna to you,” the young lady said pertly, her nose rising in the air. Lucy thought she might like this woman.
Robert seemed to grit his teeth. “It may be de rigeur to tour Bedlam and stare at the patients for the purposes of amusement for those struck with aristocratic ennui, but it is not appropriate behaviour for a young lady. This is a private asylum in the first instance. Besides, I hear even Bedlam has curbed the practice. It’s not seemly. Now get in your carriage and go home. I shall be writing a strongly worded letter to Jason about this. I know your father is not well and Jason is… well he has had other things on his mind, but he should be in control of you. Really. It is not the done thing. Come, I shall see you into your carriage. Come Lucy.”
He ushered both women into the courtyard, Lady Joanna, trying to protest but Robert shushed her every second step.
“Robert, I am trying to find…”
“Stay at home. Or go to London and find a husband.”
“I shall not. I am concerned about Lord…”
“Jo, you are so sweet. But you were always meddling in the affairs of us boys. It is time to stop. Be a good girl and trot off to London and find a good man to marry.”
“You do not understand. Lord Gretell…”
“Ah, it is he whom you have your eye on. Well you always had a tendre for him. Best get to London. He is a Marquess after all. Good choice. Now bring him up to scratch. Good luck.”
Lady Joanna was deposited in her carriage and her driver given instructions to return her to her father’s estate.
“Bessie, can you ride with the driver please,” Lucy asked her maid. She cared not for propriety herself at this point. The only person in the asylum who knew her already thought her a whore. Lady Joanna, whoever she was, was already on her way out the gates as Robert handed her up into the vehicle and the footman lifted the steps.
Once out the gates of the asylum Robert spoke.
“I have done wrong, have I not?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks unbidden and she kept her face turned away from him. She shook her head.
“No. You have done nothing for which I can reproach you Robert. Nor should you reproach yourself.”
“You are upset with me. I was going to make the suggestion to you in private but the things she said to you. I lost my mind. You are not… God, I cannot even bring myself to utter the word.”
“A whore?” She hiccupped as a sob rose in her throat.
“No. How many times must I tell you. He lied to you.”
“Surely I should have known.”
“Why would you have known. Who would have told you? You had no mother. Your brother and father would not have explained. I did not explain to Emily. Heaven alone knows what she must have imagined going to her marital bed. Christ, I was a prize ass.”
“I am sure Gideon was able to show her the basics of where everything goes. Edward certainly managed. As did you when you thought I was an innocent.”
“You are mostly still innocent, my love. I apologise for making a decision on behalf of both of us and on behalf of Eleanor without consulting you. It was just a suggestion, but Mrs Dick made me see red.”
“What suggestion?”
“You did not understand what I said.”
“I was not listening properly. She had called me…”
“I know.”
“I do understand that my daughter is a bastard, but it is as much Edward’s fault as mine, surely.”
�
�Of course. My love, I cannot change the circumstances of her birth, but I can give her my name. I can claim her as my child. It requires us to lie but I think for a child to have a name, one little lie should be acceptable.”
“A lie? What lie.”
“That I had a brief affair with you six years ago and knew nothing of your confinement. You thought I wanted someone of a higher rank to marry and you chose not to tell me. I put two and two together when you came to stay here. And I am acknowledging Miss Eleanor Beresford as natural daughter of the Earl of Whitsnow. She shall have a season and she shall be able to marry a gentleman of some standing. I cannot promise a duke, of course. I only managed a viscount for my sister. And she arranged that for herself by kissing the fellow in his bedchamber and having to elope to Scotland. Silly chit.”
Lucy’s head was swirling. Why was he talking about Emily and Scotland at a time like this?
“Robert, stop. That is very kind and generous. But I cannot ask you to tell such a great untruth for me.”
He shrugged. “It is only a stretching of the truth.” He pulled her into his arms. “Believe me, my love, had I seen you back then, truly seen you, I would have been more than happy for you to suck my…”
“Robert.”
He tugged on the ribbon of her bonnet and tossed it onto the opposite seat, then pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and settled back against the seat.
Lucy still felt unsettled. Lightskirt and whore. Did the entire village think that of her? Even the people she’d counted as friends? The blackmail notes also suggested she had loose morals, even around Robert.
She moved her hand to the buttons at the falls of his breeches. She may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. If people thought her a whore, she may as well make her soon-to-be-husband happy.
His hand covered hers.
“Lucy, what are you doing?”
She smiled. She hoped it was a seductive smile, but she really had no idea. Until now, with Robert, she had just been herself. She was not sure she had any feminine wiles.
“I was going to suck your…”
He placed three fingers over her lips.
“Please do not complete that sentence, love. I applaud the sentiment. And little Robert is getting hard at the very thought. However, I said I would not until I had married you.”
Tears sprang to her eyes.
“You may as well use your whore, Robert. You are paying good money for me. Looking after orphans and taking on my bastard child as your own. Everyone will know you are only saying she is yours out of pity.”
“No, they shall not. They know better than to gossip about me. I have a reputation.”
“I know. I was told not to approach you for help. But I knew you had a sense of duty as well as being rather dour.”
“You think me dour?”
“I thought you dour.”
“And now.”
“It depends on whether you are trying to stop me from sucking your…”
“Lucy!”
“Yes?”
“We shall marry on the morrow and you can do it to your hearts content, as long as we are in private.”
“The morrow?”
“Yes. We shall travel to Scotland. This afternoon when we get home, we speak to Eleanor and tell her that we are her parents.”
“No. We wait until after the wedding.”
“Why?”
“If she’s upset, she may wish to sleep with me. If I must sleep with her for a couple of nights, you may not want that to be our wedding night.”
Robert frowned. “Devil take it. I do not.”
“Do you still wish to be her papa?”
“Indeed I do.”
“You are a good man, if a little dour at times.” Robert harrumphed but said no more. “You are also high-handed. You were with Lady Joanna. You did not give her a chance to tell you why she was in that asylum.”
“Joanna is a silly chit. Always has been.”
“You are acquainted in what way?”
“Her brother and I were best friends at Eton. Still are best friends. Lord Jason Rose-Reid.”
“He married the widow of Lord Rutherford. Their estate is but a few miles from yours.”
“Yes. She nearly died just yards from my dower house this winter past. She was being hunted by her nephew by marriage. He was an idiot who wanted the title and fortune and wanted to kill Rutherford’s babe.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Yes. So, that’s how I know Lady Joanna Rose-Reid.”
“You called her Jo. And she called you Robbie. You were lovers.”
Robert frowned. “God no. She is Jason’s sister. He would have broken my face if I had touched her. Not to mention every other bone in my body and probably castrated me into the bargain. Besides, she is Jo. Like a sister to me.” He shuddered.
“She is pretty.”
“Is she? I cannot say I have ever considered her as anything other than an annoying little girl. Lucy, were you jealous when you thought we had been lovers?”
Lucy turned her head away. “A little.”
“I shall be a faithful husband. I have no time for infidelity.”
Lucy nodded. She was glad she had broached the subject. At least she knew who the beautiful creature had been and why Robert was on such intimate terms with her.
They passed the rest of the journey in comfortable silence. Lucy’s mind wandered to what it would be like to be the Countess of Whitsnow and what would happen to the orphans. Robert had said he would take care of them.
Chapter 25
The journey to Gretna was like Prinny’s damned procession to Brighton for the summer months. Four carriages with horses, seven children, a bride and groom, a sister and brother-in-law and three ten-week old puppies that Eleanor and Ben had insisted be brought along.
Looking into the little girl’s blue eyes, bright with hope, his cynical old heart had melted, and he could deny her nothing, not when he was going to turn her world upside down in a couple of days. He patted the two pups she was holding in her arms and nodded. Little had he realised the pups would be in the carriage with him and Beattie, the ladies opting to travel together.
Robert was not amused. It was only a two-hour ride to Gretna, but he would rather be teasing Lucy with suggestions of pre-empting their wedding vows—something he would not do at this point—than listening to Beattie’s droll jokes.
“Now are you sure you know what to do on the wedding night, Whitsnow? Do you need any advice?”
“I think I have it all up here.” He tapped his head.
“You need it lower down, old fellow,” Beattie chortled.
“I know to plant my brother-in-law a facer then remove myself to my bedchamber to make sweet love to my wife. Does that about cover it?”
“I do believe you are nervous, old boy. Should we stop the carriage and check she has not made a run for it. She could be lying injured at the side of the road, having decided certain death is a better prospect that being married to your miserable countenance for the next forty years.”
“God, my sister must have been desperate. Should have convinced Prinny to divorce and marry her instead.”
“I am better looking than Prinny.”
“Not once I have rearranged your face with my fists.”
“You and whose army? You may need to see if they will release old Boney from exile on Saint Helena to help you out.”
“I am an excellent pugilist.”
“Mayhap you were, but you have long been in the country. No matter. When you take your wife for her curtsey to the Queen, we shall settle the matter with a friendly bout at Gentleman Jackson’s.”
“The Queen. Oh no. I had forgotten about that. Do you think she knows?”
“She is a well-bred young lady. Her brother is a baron. I am sure she knows.”
“I did mention it once before when she first arrived but perhaps she has forgotten.”
“Are you any further along in finding out who i
s blackmailing her?”
“No. Though that old witch, Dick’s mother does not think highly of Lucy. She called her some ugly names. Had she been a man, she would be facing the wrong end of my pistol in a duel. It also occurs to me that the asylum he is in must cost a fair amount of money. It is a far cry from Bedlam.”
“Emily told me. Lucy was quite upset and Emily spent a lot of time with her last evening.”
“Aye. I suspected they were not just sewing lace onto gowns.”
“I think they were doing that too. You know Emily. Not the best at needlework. Her fingers were a little tender. She stabs herself with the needle more than the fabric.”
“She now knows that I know about Eleanor so if it is her then the blackmail should stop. It also depends on how much the woman gossips as to whether other people find out that I know about Eleanor. We shall see. There are five days to go until May Day.”
“Aye and then this shall be over, hopefully.”
They arrived at the church. Robert had sent a letter ahead when he had arrived back home, and the minister had responded, agreeing to hold the nuptials. He believed that Lucy would prefer a church wedding. This seemed to impress Beattie.
“You old romantic,” Beattie whispered as he stood at the alter waiting for Lucy to make her way down the aisle.
Six orphans and his soon-to-be-daughter sat with perfect manners watching the minister. He could see the confusion on their little faces as they were used to the vicar’s white vestments as opposed to the minister’s austere black robes. There was also no incense burning and no candles. Perhaps they should have explained the differences, but he had wanted the church to be a surprise for Lucy.
He had seen her, of course, when they had walked out to the carriages but now, walking down the aisle, a small bunch of flowers, picked from his own gardens, clutched in her gloved hands, she looked radiant. Her simple blue dress showed off the rich red of her hair and the freckles at her décolletage. The small amount that could be seen where her fichu gaped slightly. Small curls escaped her bonnet, which was tied with a blue ribbon that matched her gown perfectly.
Now, he could not believe it had taken him so long to seek out a wife. And why had he not noticed Lucy Butterworth until now? She had been right under his nose. Beautiful, caring, perfect and just right for him. She took his hand and the service began.