Sebastian put his head in his hands. “Oh God. What have I done?”
“He was blackmailing you, wasn’t he?”
Sebastian nodded. “I’ve been a cad, Oliver. I swore I’d never trust anyone again, not after he betrayed me. I’ve treated you badly. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course, you fool,” said Oliver. Sebastian took his hand. He was still shaking. Simon felt an overwhelming urge to brush the strand of blond hair from his master’s eyes, to hold him until he stopped trembling.
“He threatened to put it in the papers. That was why I kissed Rose. That poor girl! I know it was wrong of me. I have regretted it ever since.” He looked up, his face anguished. “I thought you would despise me if you knew the truth.”
“There’s no fear of that.”
Outside along the terrace, there were running footsteps. Someone screamed.
Sebastian half rose, but Oliver pushed him back down. His mind was working fast.
“Don’t move. What are we going to tell them?”
“The truth?” Sebastian looked at him, not understanding.
“Impossible, unless you want your secret to come out anyway. No, there’s no way. We’ve got to think of something else.” He pressed his fingers to his lips. Outside in the corridor, there were terrified, shocked voices. He looked at Sebastian, his beautiful, beloved friend. He made up his mind. “Stay there,” he told Sebastian.
“But—”
“Just do it!”
Oliver ran to the door and down the steps. He ran to the conservatory and slowed as he saw that a crowd already surrounded it. Lord Westlake was there, and so were many of the servants and family.
James looked toward him as he came along the terrace.
“Oliver! Dear God—Simon’s dead—”
“I give myself up,” Oliver heard himself say.
“What? What happened?”
“We had a fight. He…owed me some money.” Oliver could not bring himself to meet James’s eye. “I pushed him and he fell. It was my fault. Mr. Templeton tried to part us but it was impossible.”
James stared at him. “Oliver…You…I can’t believe it.”
Oliver flinched at the tone of his voice. But that note of disapproval was nothing to him. He had lived the worst shame a man could face before, and anything that came now could not be as bad.
“Call the police,” he said, in a voice that did not seem to be his own.
Sebastian paced back and forth across his room, gnawing his nails. The silence from downstairs was as terrifying as the earlier commotion had been. He had heard the voices of policemen downstairs, but they had not come up to arrest him. And where was Oliver?
He could bear it no longer. He went to the door and marched out. If he were to be arrested, he would take it bravely. He could not cower like a fox in a hole any longer.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he heard strange voices coming from the blue sitting room. He glanced in and at once recognized the uniforms of the local police. They were questioning someone—Oliver! He put a hand on the door, ready to march in and confront them. But a hand closed on his own arm with a tight grip.
He turned round. “Mother!”
“Sebastian.” Her face was white. She moved so that she was between him and the doors. “You must leave.”
“I can’t. You don’t understand. I have to explain—”
“You will do nothing of the kind!” she spat. She was not just angry, he realized. She was afraid. She pushed the doors closed and put her back against them.
“But I can’t let them accuse Oliver! It was me, I—”
“Be silent!” She was shaking. “I will not allow you to disgrace your family like this. Oliver has confessed. You are safe. Leave it at that.”
Horrified, Sebastian moved to the door, but she raised her arms to bar the way.
“You will have to physically strike me to move past,” she said. There were tears in her eyes. “My son, don’t you think I knew about you and Croker? I did everything I could to hush it up then. I will not allow you to expose your family to disgrace now. It has ended the best way it could.”
“You knew?” He was shocked.
“I am your mother, Sebastian,” she said quietly.
Sebastian felt as if a blow had been struck against his heart. He had never felt close to his mother, and in recent days had come to feel contempt for her. But she loved him. He realized that at this moment. And he could not possibly strike her.
“Mother, I can’t let Oliver take the blame, they’ll hang him!”
“He knew what he was doing when he confessed.”
Sebastian gritted his teeth. “I can’t let Oliver take my punishment, Mother. I can’t!”
He turned away and broke into a run. He pounded through the corridors, looking for a way into the room from the other side. Two of the doors he tried were locked. In desperation he burst into the servants’ stairs, running past a shocked maid, who flattened herself and her pile of towels against the wall. He ran down the kitchen passage, ignoring the exclamations of Cook, and burst out of the back door. He ran across the cobbles, and round the house to the front. The Black Maria was there, and just as he saw it, it was pulling away.
Sebastian redoubled his pace. He ran to the motorcar. A face inside turned and looked back at him through the rear window. A face that he loved, he now realized.
“Oliver!” he shouted. He grasped the edge of the window. The policeman looked at him in shock.
“Sir, please release the vehicle—”
Sebastian ignored him. He had eyes for nothing but Oliver, his pale, desperate face. “I’ll get you out,” he gasped. “I’ll do it, if it’s the last thing I do.”
He clutched for Oliver’s hand. Oliver was cuffed, but he managed to squeeze his fingers back. Then the vehicle accelerated, and Sebastian was flung aside. He stumbled to a halt, gasping for breath, gazing after the motorcar as it disappeared into the distance.
It was a fine spring day, and Ada had walked out with Georgiana for their morning exercise. Birds sang in the hedgerows, and everything was calm and peaceful.
“It seems things are finally back to normal,” Georgiana said as they made their way back toward the house.
“Hardly,” said Ada. She thought of the defense she was helping Sebastian prepare for Oliver, and the continuing absence of Rose and Mrs. Cliffe.
“No, of course you’re right,” Georgiana agreed. “Things aren’t exactly normal, not without Rose and Mrs. Cliffe, and with that terrible accident. I simply can’t believe that Oliver meant to kill him. All I meant is that things seem quiet again.”
“Yes, let’s hope they stay that way.” Ada paused and looked toward the house. Men from the village were working on the conservatory roof, rebuilding it. Soon it would look as if nothing had ever happened. “Perhaps we are just getting used to how things are now.”
“I suppose we have no choice,” Georgiana said. “But don’t you remember walking here the first day we were back from India? How little we guessed what would happen!”
Ada didn’t have a chance to reply. Cooper was coming toward them from the terrace, and he looked anxious. She speeded up her pace.
“Excuse me, my ladies. Your father requests your presence in the library,” Cooper greeted her.
“Both of us?” Ada exchanged a look with Georgiana. “Oh dear, I wonder what we have done now.”
They hurried into the house and along to the library. As they approached, Ada saw Sebastian and Michael coming the other way.
“You were summoned too?” Sebastian asked Ada.
“Yes. What is it about, do you know?”
He shook his head. “The solicitor was here,” Michael ventured. “He and Lord Westlake have been shut in the study for ages.”
“Might it be something to do with Oliver’s case?”
Sebastian looked puzzled. “I should know, if it is.”
They opened the door and went in. The first person Ada saw wa
s her stepmother, sitting bolt upright with a sour look on her face. Charlotte stood by her. William and Edith sat on the sofa, William with a glass of wine in his hand and a sulky expression on his face, Edith trying to keep hold of Augustus, who was wriggling out of her grasp. Ada’s father stood by at his walnut desk, and the solicitor, pen in hand and spectacles on nose, stood next to him.
Her father cleared his throat. “Are we ready, Mr. Dobbs?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. You simply need to sign here.” He indicated the place and offered his pen. Lord Westlake took it and signed. Then he looked up.
“I have an announcement to make,” he said. “There is to be a happy event in the family.”
There was a puzzled silence. William looked worried. Lord Westlake turned aside. Ada realized there was a figure standing there, in the shadows—a girl.
“Come, dear,” he said into the shadows.
The girl stepped forward.
“Rose!” exclaimed Ada in delight.
She looked tired and anxious, and she had lost weight, but she was as pretty as ever. She looked down, blushing as all eyes turned to her.
Fiona jumped to her feet.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“I hope you will understand, Fiona, as a mother yourself,” Lord Westlake said gently. “I have thought very hard about my decision, and I am sure I have done the right thing.”
“That does not answer my question. What is she doing here?” Fiona drew herself up, furious.
“What Rosaline and I did was wrong,” Lord Westlake said in reply. “But Rose is innocent. Rose has done nothing to be ashamed of.”
Charlotte made a disbelieving sound.
Lord Westlake ignored her. “I know that what I have done is not orthodox. But I believe it to be the only just, the only honorable thing to do. I have adopted Rose as my daughter.”
There was total, shocked silence. Rose hung her head, looking on the brink of tears.
Ada put a hand to the table to steady herself. Adopt Rose! Could he mean it?
“From now on, she will be Lady Rose Averley,” Lord Westlake said.
“What?” Charlotte shrieked.
“This is…outrageous!” Fiona exploded.
“I do not see why,” Lord Westlake retorted. “As I said, Rose has done nothing wrong. And she is my daughter.”
“But the girl’s a maid—a servant—a vulgar skivvy!” Charlotte’s voice rose higher with every word.
“She’s no such thing!” Georgiana rounded on Charlotte, who looked as astonished as if a goldfish had barked. “She’s always acted like a perfect lady. We’ve always said so.” She turned to Rose. “I’m glad you’re my sister, Rose,” she said impetuously. “But I hope you will still do my hair, just in a sisterly way, I mean. No one else gets it as nice as you do.”
Rose, who looked on the brink of tears, managed a laugh.
“This is a disgrace. I shall contact my solicitors!” Fiona’s voice rose to a screech. She turned on Sebastian. “Do you, my son, intend to stand there and let this go unchallenged?”
Sebastian looked nervous. “Mother, I don’t really see what I can do about it—”
“Oh, you are useless!” Fiona spat. She leaped up from her chair and slammed out of the door. Charlotte hurried after her.
“I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” Rose managed. “Please believe me, this was Lord Westlake’s idea, not mine.”
Her frightened voice jerked Ada out of her shock. At once she knew exactly what she had to do. She crossed the room and took Rose’s hands. “Welcome to the family,” she said, with a smile of happiness that she felt from the bottom of her heart.
Ada woke early, just as the dawn light was filtering in though the shutters of Milborough House. She lay sleepily, remembering this day was important but at first not recollecting why. Then her heart gave a huge thump as it occurred to her. Today was the day she, Rose, and Charlotte were to be presented to the Sovereign. Today, she was officially coming out.
She hastily got up and opened her wardrobe. Her court dress still took her breath away with its beauty. The ivory crepe de chine was smooth and light, folded into deep, rich pleats like the petals of a rose. The net train was sprinkled with pink silk rose petals and diamond dewdrops. Her mother’s pearls were all that she would wear as jewelry.
Ada turned to the dressing table and opened her jewel case. Among the pearls lay some small, folded notes, fragile from having been read over and over again. As she gazed at the pearls and strung them through her fingers, her thoughts were far away. She was remembering another time she had worn those pearls, and the boy who had kissed her. Where was Ravi now? Was he happy? Did he ever think of her? Or had he already forgotten?
There was a knock at the door.
“May I come in, my lady?” Rose’s nervous face peered around the door.
“Of course you may, my lady,” Ada said laughingly. “And you really must learn to call me Ada.”
Rose laughed too, and looked embarrassed. She scurried in on bare feet.
“Have you no slippers?” Ada asked. “You must be cold.”
“I do, only I keep forgetting.” Rose sighed.
“You don’t seem happy.” Ada looked at her in concern. She so wanted today to be perfect for Rose.
“Oh no! Of course, I am. How could I not be, after Lord Westlake’s generosity?”
“You don’t have to pretend to me, Rose,” said Ada. “You and I have always had an understanding, I think.”
“It’s just that…it’s so strange. I didn’t realize. I didn’t think it would be easy, but I didn’t know it would be this difficult, either.” Rose’s voice trembled.
“If you mean mastering the etiquette, I don’t think you have anything to worry about on that score. You are doing very well.”
“It isn’t really that. I learned a lot when I was a maid, from watching how others did it. No, it’s more that I feel so lost. So out of place. I don’t know how to fill my days, now. It is a joy to be able to play the piano whenever I wish, but—but—I am used to working, and now I can’t.” She hung her head. “I miss my mother. And I miss the servants’ hall. I know I shouldn’t. Perhaps it is vulgar of me. But I used to have friends, my lady…Ada, and now all my friends are my servants. I can’t talk to Annie as I used to. They all look on me differently now. And after today, when our season begins, there will be even more of a gap between us.”
“Oh, poor Rose!” Ada put a hand on her sister’s arm. She realized how lonely she must be. “I have been so insensitive. Of course you feel like this.”
Rose managed a smile. “I shouldn’t be so ungrateful.”
“It isn’t ungrateful, it is simply natural.” She pressed Rose’s hand warmly. “But Georgiana and I will continue to do everything we can to make you feel truly one of the family. Time will do the rest.”
“You are kind,” Rose said. She looked searchingly into Ada’s eyes. “I feel I can ask you this, now that we are sisters. Have you heard nothing from Mr. Sundaresan?”
Ada swallowed. “No. I do not expect to. We parted the best of friends, but it is all over.” She thought of their last kiss, and hesitated.
“You don’t seem certain.”
Ada glanced around to be sure no one was watching. “I’m frightened, Rose,” she said under her breath. “I believe that Charlotte saw us together, that last time at the station. I fear she may have seen us…kiss.”
Rose drew in her breath. Ada knew that she realized the severity of the danger. “But surely she would have said something.”
“I can’t be sure. Charlotte is capable of a lot. She may have seen nothing, of course. But if she has…”
“Try not to worry,” Rose replied. “Charlotte does not want scandal to touch your family either. It would compromise her own prospects.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Their voices had dropped low. The gentle knock at the door startled both of them.
“Come in!” Ada cri
ed.
The door opened, and the startled French maid looked in.
“Oh—my lady, I did not realize you were already awake. I am sorry. I must be late—”
“Not at all. We are early.” Ada smiled at her.
“I must go back, or my own maid will think I have run away.” Rose got up and went to the door. Ada smiled her good-bye.
“Nervous, mademoiselle?” The French maid smiled sympathetically as she pressed waves into Rose’s thick dark hair.
“Horribly.” Rose managed a smile. She could hardly restrain herself from helping the maid as she pinned her hair up, hardly stop herself from protesting: “I can do it myself!” It was so hard to learn to be a lady. There was so much one had to forget: how to light a fire, how to dress oneself…
“I am sure you will be a great success,” the maid went on. “Your dress is so beautiful, the Brussels lace is most simple and elegant.”
If only my mother were here to see it, Rose thought, and tears came to her eyes. But her mother would be proud of her whatever happened, she knew.
She stood and allowed her maid to sew her into her corset. She breathed in deeply and obediently, the bones pressing her into shape. Then the petticoats were skillfully arranged.
From outside, she heard the strains of a barrel organ. Her maid frowned.
“Excuse me, my lady, I will shut the window against that vulgar noise.”
“Oh no, Céline—leave it.” As simple as the tune was, Rose clung to it. Music was a good omen. Perhaps one day her real dream could come true, to be a composer. But for now it seemed the demands of society were the most pressing. First she had to become a lady.
She looked in awe at the dress that her maid was carefully holding up for her to step into. It was white satin, with a lace-and-chiffon bodice and a train decorated with tulle and pearls so it looked like a cloud dusted with glittering raindrops. She had never seen anything so beautiful; it was still hard to believe that she was actually going to wear it.
The dress slipped over her shoulders and the train spread out behind her. Rose looked at herself in the mirror and could not avoid a gasp of simple admiration.
Cinders & Sapphires (At Somerton) Page 23