A Sensible Lady: A Traditional Regency Romance

by Judith Lown

  “He is Richard’s child, a wonderful comfort and gift after our loss.”

  Miguel and Charles Hamilton exchanged bows, each regarding the other with undisguised curiosity.

  “I do not suppose you might know…”

  Katherine blushed, lost for words. How could she inquire delicately about the origins of her brother’s illegitimate son?

  “I am sorry, Miss Brampton. I knew nothing of a child.”

  Captain Hamilton sounded genuinely regretful, but he glanced away as he spoke.

  He knows something. Katherine was certain. He knows something about Miguel’s mother. How would she ever convince this proper gentleman to speak to her about such an improper subject? Certainly she could not now, with Aunt Prunella present.

  The balance of the visit was taken up with other subjects. Captain Hamilton planned trips to London to sell his commission and to Bath to visit Jane, who might be returning to Drayford Vale. Katherine resolved to be patient, but if Charles Hamilton thought he could keep secrets about Miguel’s mother, he would learn he was badly mistaken.

  Even a short social call tired Aunt Prunella, who retired to her room as soon as Captain Hamilton left.

  Katherine retreated to the garden, wandering aimlessly down the paths, Princess padding by her side, Miguel charging ahead on his broom-horse. If anyone had inquired, she would have said she was examining plants for signs of new growth or winter damage. But her thoughts were about the man she had discovered, too late, that she loved.

  Thank heavens Mr. Wharton had temporized when she had offered him her panicked marriage proposal. What had he said to her? He thought she might fall in love with someone else? Had he known or suspected her feelings before she had?

  She looked up to see Sally running from the house.

  “He is here, Miss Brampton!”

  When Sally said he, it could mean only one gentleman. Katherine wondered for a second if her thoughts had somehow magically summoned him.

  “I put him in the front parlor, Miss Brampton. I’ll look after Miguel. And, please, do at least discard that old green shawl.”

  Katherine saw Sally’s surprise and approval when she not only left her shawl in the kitchen, but also when she glanced in the hall mirror and tucked in an errant curl before following Princess into the parlor. But Katherine was playing for time, not worrying about her appearance. She was trying to still the pounding of her heart so that it could not be heard across the parlor.

  Lord Dracott was sitting in the throne-like chair beside the fireplace, absently scratching Princess’s ears. He stood slowly, and bowed. As Katherine rose from her courtesy, she noticed Lord Dracott’s appearance was slightly altered and realized he had a fresh, close haircut; his coat had been pressed; and his scuffed boots had been polished. His jaw was almost as clean as Miguel’s. Apparently, Lord Dracott had shaved just before setting out for the Dower House.

  He cleared his throat as he sat down. Princess abandoned him for Katherine’s lap.

  “Miss Brampton. I…uh…”

  “Would you care for some refreshment, Lord Dracott?”

  “Thank you, Miss Brampton, but no thank you.”

  He cleared his throat again. Katherine patted Princess, grateful for the diversion.

  “Thing is, Miss Brampton,” Lord Dracott settled back in the large chair, grasping the arms. “I owe you an apology for my behavior the night of the search. Totally out of proportion…you had been very quick-witted in the most alarming of circumstances.”

  “I was wrong to have withheld Jimmy’s whereabouts from you when you asked, Lord Dracott. Indeed, I should have thought before hiding him. Thank you for your apology, but I owe you one, more than you owe me.”

  His smile revealed hints of the carefree youth he had been before tragedy and war had engraved lines on his face and wariness in his gaze.

  Katherine repressed an impulse to rush to him and throw her arms around his neck. She should have ordered tea, or something stronger. Could he possibly intend to renew his offer, or was she building air castles on decent barbering and a smile? She concentrated on stroking Princess.

  “It is a relief to have that little matter out of the way between us, Miss Brampton. Did not want to broach the subject the other day with Lizzie and Miguel present.”

  “Thank you again, Lord Dracott, for coming to Princess’s aid. I am not at all sure how I would have managed without your help.”

  “You had made a good start, Miss Brampton, but it is not the sort of task a lady should have to tackle. Looks as if that spaniel belongs here in a parlor rather than on a hunting field.”

  Lord Dracott cleared his throat again and adjusted his neck cloth, destroying the careful folds that had been placed in it.

  “Had you heard that Captain Charles Hamilton is back from the war, Miss Brampton?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, he paid us a brief visit this morning, offering condolences for Richard. Very thoughtful of him. Aunt Prunella was deeply touched.”

  Lord Dracott nodded and ran a hand over his jaw.

  “Good man, Hamilton. It is a great relief he survived the slaughter. Best friends I ever had, he and Wharton, and your brother Richard. Hamilton and Wharton spent the day at the Hall earlier this week. Something of a reunion.”

  Katherine stopped patting Princess and focused her attention on her guest. He had not come to renew his offer after all. Why was he going on about Charles Hamilton, Gus Wharton, and Richard? Everyone knew they had been thicker than thieves before their adult lives had put them on separate paths.

  “I do not have to tell you what great friends Hamilton and your brother were. Bought commissions at the same time. Shipped off to the Peninsula together. Saw a bit of each other off and on between battles.

  “Thing of it is, Miss Brampton, Hamilton told us—told Wharton and me—something that we all agreed you need to know.”

  Katherine had to remind herself to take a breath. ‘Something you need to know’ rarely introduced welcome news.

  “The fact is Miss Brampton, your brother Richard was married, married to a highborn Spanish lady somewhere between Oporto and Talavera.”

  Katherine stared at Lord Dracott trying to assimilate what he had said. She must have leaned forward, because Princess jumped from her lap and curled up on the hearth.

  “I am sorry to shock you, Miss Brampton. Would you like for me to ring for something? Tea? Sherry? Brandy?”

  “No, no thank you, Lord Dracott.”

  Katherine took a deep breath, then another. Charles Hamilton had known something about Miguel’s mother. Katherine had sensed it during his visit. But Katherine never dreamed what Charles Hamilton knew was that Miguel’s mother was married to Richard. Why had Charles Hamilton not told her? Why was Lord Dracott telling her?

  “Are you saying that the highborn lady Richard married is Miguel’s mother? Is that what you are telling me, Lord Dracott”

  Katherine could hardly recognize her own husky whisper.

  Lord Dracott leaned toward her, hands clasped between his knees.

  “We do not yet know it for a certainty, Miss Brampton, but we are in the process of gathering information, and we think it likely that what we learn will confirm what we strongly suspect: that Miguel is Richard’s legitimate son.”

  “Tell me all you know, please.”

  Lord Dracott stood and stretched to his full height, stepped over to the hearth and tapped a cold, partly burned log with the toe of his boot. Princess shook herself and hopped back up on Katherine’s lap. Lord Dracott turned, folded his arms and leaned on the mantel.

  “War does terrible things to a country, Miss Brampton. Thank God Nelson and our navy kept it from our shores. When your brother, Richard, and Charles Hamilton arrived in Lisbon back in the spring of ’09, the French pretty much controlled the Peninsula. The Spanish were divided between families who had cooperated with the French and those who had fought the French. Those who had opposed the French were in mortal danger, as we
re their families. The reputation of French soldiers’ treatment of Spanish ladies was…unsavory.”

  He looked down at his boots and thrust his hands into his coat pockets, then looked up at Katherine.

  “And so, there were any number of Spanish ladies who were sent to Lisbon for safety. One of them was a very young, very beautiful—and by all reports—very headstrong lady named Doña Elena Garces de Villalonga.”

  “E G d V: the initials in the ring,” Katherine whispered.

  Lord Dracott nodded.

  “Wharton remembered that you had shown him the ring when Miguel was baptized, and he recorded the initials in the parish registry. Hamilton kept a diary and had written down the lady’s name. They match.”

  “Do go on, Lord Dracott. I did not mean to interrupt. I want to hear the whole story.”

  “There were parties and balls, of course, and Richard met Doña Elena at one of them. Hamilton is not clear about the details. I suspect he had an interest of his own at the time.”

  Katherine knew better than to ask the nature of Charles Hamilton’s interest.

  Lord Dracott returned to the large chair, sat, stretched out his legs, and rested his elbows on the chair’s arms.

  “It was not all that long before Richard and Hamilton marched off for Oporto, fought there, and then marched on toward Talavera. According to Hamilton, Doña Elena came riding into camp one day just about the time they were crossing from Portugal into Spain. No chaperone. No maid. The upshot was that your brother fetched a chaplain, and he and Doña Elena were married, all right and tight in the eyes of the Church of England. Charles Hamilton signed as a witness.”

  Katherine let out a breath she had not known she was holding.

  “According to Hamilton, Doña Elena was a fearless rider. Had no problem keeping up with the march. Then, just before the Battle of Talavera, a Spanish grandee rode up and challenged your brother. The Spanish gentleman was, of course, Doña Elena’s father. I shudder to think what would have happened to Richard if she had not shown her father her marriage lines. He calmed a bit, but produced his own priest, a Roman priest. So the couple was married once more—in the Roman rite.

  “A long discussion ensued between Richard and Doña Elena’s father with Doña Elena protesting from time to time. In the end, the angry and unhappy lady rode off with her father. Hamilton believes that Richard and Doña Elena’s father agreed that she would remain under her father’s protection until the cessation of hostilities.”

  “Which Richard did not live to see,” Katherine whispered.

  “Nor did Richard live to see his son, if Miguel is indeed the son of Doña Elena Brampton.”

  “Dear heavens!”

  The full implication of Lord Dracott’s story dawned on Katherine.

  “Dear heavens, indeed.”

  Lord Dracott sat up straight in his chair.

  “If Miguel is Richard’s legitimate son, Miguel, not Clive Brampton, is Richard’s heir.”

  Katherine closed her eyes against the possibility of what she said.

  “If Miguel is, indeed, Richard’s legitimate son, the question is, can Miguel be proven to be Richard’s legitimate son to the satisfaction of English courts, both clerical and civil.” Lord Dracott’s voice was solemn enough for a court. “Therein lies the problem, Miss Brampton.”

  Katherine felt sick with dread at the thought of challenging Clive Brampton’s claims to the baronetcy.

  She gathered up a nervous Princess and began to pace but motioned for Lord Dracott to remain seated.

  “Perhaps it would be best for all concerned to go on as before,” Katherine said. “I do understand the problems that the stain of illegitimacy bring. But how to go about establishing Miguel’s legitimacy? I cannot tell you how happy I am to know that Richard acted honorably toward Miguel’s mother. But knowing it and proving it are two entirely different matters.”

  Katherine shrugged.

  “Aunt Prunella will be vindicated. She always believed in Richard. But heaven forbid she ever learn the truth. She would never be able to keep the secret.”

  Katherine sat down and gave Princess a hug before putting her on the floor.

  “Considering everything, Lord Dracott, do you not agree that perhaps the best course of action for all of us—Captain Hamilton, Mr. Wharton, you, and me—is to pledge to keep the matter a secret? I really cannot see challenging my cousin in court.”

  Lord Dracott frowned and gripped the arms of his chair.

  “I am certain, Miss Brampton, that you are speaking from shock, and perhaps fear for the boy. But you cannot seriously be proposing that the four of us collude in a lie, permitting a legitimate child to grow to adulthood enduring the taunts and handicaps of a bastard—pardon my saying the word in your presence, but it would be said behind your back and to Miguel’s face. When in truth, there is every likelihood that he is your brother’s legitimate son and heir.”

  Katherine felt as if she had been slapped. Worse, she knew she was in the wrong. Fear had made her cowardly. Richard and Miguel deserved better of her.

  “Of course you are right, Lord Dracott. I cannot imagine what I was thinking,” she managed in a hoarse whisper.

  “Not only am I right on a moral level, Miss Brampton, I am also right on a practical level. Hamilton is trying to recall other officers who witnessed your brother’s marriage. He believes perhaps two or three survived the war and might, even now, be returning to England. And the chaplain who performed the ceremony could very well still be alive, and he is unlikely to forget marrying a British officer to an imperious Spanish doña during the march from Oporto to Talavera. Most likely the chaplain also has a written record of the marriage. So you see, Miss Brampton, it could very probably be only a matter of time, a chance meeting at a club or soiree, some reminiscing about old adventures, and the rumors would start, and things would be much more difficult to put right at a later date. What would have become of Miguel—and you—in the meantime?”

  Yes, Katherine thought. What was to become of Miguel, Aunt Prunella, and herself? She should be dancing for joy that Richard had married Miguel’s mother, that Miguel was Richard’s legitimate son. But those facts complicated her life in ways she could scarcely contemplate.

  “No need to look so bleak, Miss Brampton. Believe me, as soon as Hamilton had told his story the other night, even while he was telling his story, Wharton and I knew the difficulty you would be in if the facts are as Hamilton presented them. And as soon as we explained matters to Hamilton, he understood, too. So we put our heads together to come up with a way for you to get through this tangle. A way that would protect both you and Miguel from Clive Brampton’s machinations, once an actual case for Miguel’s legitimacy is collected.”

  Merciful heavens, Katherine thought. Can there be anything more humbling than to have one’s life planned out by three old drinking friends trading stories at a reunion?

  “Which of you drew the short straw?”

  Katherine blinked away tears. She knew the answer to her question. It explained Lord Dracott’s visit; his haircut, his freshly shaven face, his pressed coat and polished boots.

  Lord Dracott looked puzzled for a moment, laughed, and quickly sobered when he studied Katherine’s face.

  “You must not think that way, Miss Brampton.”

  Katherine could scarcely credit the pleading tone in his voice.

  “I know this is very awkward for you, Miss Brampton. I have put a case for our marriage to you before—Lizzie’s attachment to you, your comfort and familiarity with Drayford Vale… But, you must see, that with what is now suspected about your nephew’s status, it is imperative that you act quickly, both for yours and Miguel’s sake. Given the facts, the court will concern itself with his interests. At the very least, appoint a guardian for him, whether or not he is declared legitimate. But before the court can rule, both you and Miguel will need protection—and the wherewithal to present his case adequately. We agreed: Hamilton, Wharton and I, that I am
best placed to provide for you and Miguel. To place the matter with a skilled attorney and counter any attempt on your cousin’s part to keep Miguel’s case from being heard. Surely you can see that.”

  Katherine could see that. But she could not bear to look at Lord Dracott’s earnest face—the face she saw in her dreams. The face of the man she loved. But did not love her. She studied her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

  “I do see that. I understand what you are saying,” she whispered.

  “And you are agreeing we should marry.”

  “Yes. I am agreeing we should marry.”

  Katherine looked up. Lord Dracott stood and took a ring out of his coat pocket. He did not indulge in the hypocrisy of kneeling before her, but took her left hand and, on her third finger, put on a heavy ring featuring a large emerald cabochon. It almost slipped off.

  Lord Dracott frowned.

  “It seems I have not taken the slenderness of your finger into account, Miss Brampton. I suppose I shall have to take it to be cut down.”

  He sounded reluctant to make a permanent alteration in a piece of Dracott family jewelry for her sake.

  “That will not be necessary, Lord Dracott,” Katherine said briskly. “I believe string or candle wax is the solution to the problem.”

  “Perhaps we should tell Miss Summersville our news.”

  “Of course,” Katherine agreed, feeling a constriction of her heart.

  Aunt Prunella would assume it was a love match, although she would no doubt have preferred Katherine to marry Augustus Wharton.

  The Reverend Mr. Augustus Wharton had neatly extracted himself from her marriage proposal, Katherine thought wryly. What was it he had said? He was concerned that her affections might become attached elsewhere? The constriction of her heart became so tight, Katherine could scarcely breathe.

  “Before we tell anyone, Lord Dracott, I think you need to reconsider what you are doing.”

  He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

  “What would happen if, after we marry, your affections become attached—to another lady?”

  Lord Dracott smiled and shook his head.