A Lady of Consequence

by Mary Nichols

  She looked up when she heard a knock at her door and it was flung open before she could even call, ‘Come in.’

  ‘Maddy, come quickly.’ It was Miss Gunnery with a worried look on her face and her cap all awry. ‘His lordship has taken a turn for the worse and is asking for you.’

  The letter fluttered from her lap as she leapt to her feet and went to her grandfather’s bedside. It was several days before she was able to give it another thought and by then she knew that, while her grandfather needed her, she could not leave him.

  Riding had always been Duncan’s greatest pleasure, but now it was the only thing he enjoyed. He rode for miles out across the moors with only his horse and the birds for company, until dark or rain sent him home again. And then he would hurry indoors and gather up the post from the silver tray on the hall table where the butler always put it when he was out. He would shuffle through the letters, looking for one from Madeleine.

  ‘Martin, are you sure this is all the post?’ he would bellow, as he went up to change out of his riding clothes.

  Martin would appear from the kitchen or the drawing room, wherever he had been working. ‘Yes, my lord. I asked the postman most particular.’

  He had been asking about the mail ever since he had come home, but the expected letter did not arrive. Why did she not answer? Surely she could have written something, anything, even no. It would be better than nothing. But if she did not think enough of him to answer a simple letter, then he was better off without her. If he kept busy, he could forget her. He could and he would.

  With the end of the Season and Parliament’s recess, his parents and the boys returned to Risley, bringing Lavinia and her children for a little holiday, before she took them back to Twelve-trees and their autumn lessons. She found not the laughing easygoing brother she knew, but a morose, uncommunicative man who had nothing to say at all. After watching him for two days, she could remain silent no longer.

  ‘Duncan, if you do not snap out of the dismals and do something about it, I shall have to box your ears.’

  Her threat brought a flicker of a smile. ‘What would you have me do?’

  ‘Go to her. Have it out with her. I wonder you have not done so long ago.’

  ‘Who?’ He knew whom she meant, even though he pretended otherwise. ‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’

  ‘Yes, you do. You and Madeleine. Your pride. And hers. I have no patience with either of you. You need your heads banging together.’

  ‘That is not the case at all. I was simply giving her time to become used to her new family, which must make her feel very strange. I could not charge in like a bull in a china shop, could I?’

  ‘No, but did you know Viscount Armitage had died?’

  ‘No.’ He was startled. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I saw it in the paper just before I left London.’

  ‘Oh, my poor, dear Maddy. I must go to her.’ And then he was gone, flying up the stairs to his room, shouting for Davison. An hour later, he was in his coach and being driven by the ever-patient Dobson towards the London Road.

  The Viscount’s death had come as a profound shock to Madeleine. She had known he was ill and made old before his time, but she had believed Miss Gunnery when she said she thought he might recover, simply because she wanted it to be true. She had only just got to know him and now he was gone.

  ‘You must give thanks that his last few days were happy ones,’ Miss Gunnery said, while they waited for the men to come back from the funeral. ‘He is at peace and with your dear mama.’

  She would have liked to have gone to the service of committal, to have stood beside the grave to say goodbye to him, but she was told it was simply not done, it was too distressing for sensitive female minds. And so they waited, Madeleine, Miss Gunnery and numerous female relatives who viewed her with deep suspicion. They had arrived in carriages from far and near, these unknown second cousins of hers, dressed in deepest mourning, each bewailing the loss in their own way. Madeleine had been introduced to them, but she had been so distressed she could not remember which was which.

  One thing they seemed to have in common was a curiosity to know how his lordship had ordered his estate. There had been no son, no direct heir, and this new grandchild was a woman. She could almost see their minds ticking over in their eyes and the sharp way they looked about them, calculating the worth of the pictures and ornaments.

  ‘I suppose I must, but I feel lost.’

  ‘We all do. In spite of his pride, he was a good man. We shall miss him.’

  ‘What shall you do?’

  ‘I have a pension. It was awarded to me years ago and I have never spent it. I shall do very well. My concern is for you.’

  Madeleine managed a smile. ‘I can earn my own living, Miss Gunnery. I have been doing it since I was twelve years old, have no fear for me.’

  This statement sent the good lady into paroxysms of weeping and Madeleine was trying to comfort her when the men returned, leaving their black-ribboned top hats on the table in the entrance hall and marching into the drawing room. She rose to act the hostess and offer them refreshment, which they accepted, ignoring her as if she were a servant. She did not blame them. She was an interloper. She slipped out before the will could be read, believing there was nothing in it for her, but hoping that whoever inherited the hall might allow her some little memento of her stay there.

  She went up to her room where the portmanteau she had packed that morning stood by the door. It contained only those things she had brought with her with the addition of her mother’s riding habit, which had been given to her. Sitting at the little desk, which had once been her mother’s, she wrote a letter of explanation to Miss Gunnery, telling her she would write again when she was settled, and another to Mrs Danby, thanking the staff for making her so welcome, and then she slipped on her pelisse, tied a black straw bonnet on to her curls and, picking up the case, went down the stairs and out of the front door. No one saw her go.

  It was only a short step to the village where she knew several coaches called on their way to London every day. Now she was once again Miss Madeleine Charron, actress. But there was a difference. She was no longer a liar, no longer embittered. She walked with a light step to meet the future.

  As she approached the Peahen, she saw a smart coach arriving and watched as it swung into the yard and the ostlers hurried forward to see to the horses. A moment later its occupant alighted and stood looking about him.

  The Marquis of Risley was the last person she expected to see and she stood rooted to the spot, staring at him. The noise and bustle of the coaching inn faded to insignificance. She saw nothing but his handsome face, looking rather more drawn than she remembered it, heard nothing but her own name on his lips. ‘Madeleine!’

  He was smiling as he came towards her. She did not know whether to fling herself into his arms or turn and run; her hesitation was her undoing. A horse snorted close to her, but she hardly noticed, did not hear the shout of the coachman behind her, felt nothing until Duncan flung himself on her and pushed her out of the way, as the great horse reared. She screamed as its hooves rose above Duncan’s head. ‘Duncan!’ And then the sky went black and her knees gave way beneath her.

  She came to her senses lying on a settle in one of the rooms of the inn and Duncan was sitting beside her, holding her hand. She struggled to sit up, but he gently pushed her back. ‘Lie still, my love, you have had a nasty shock.’

  She managed something very near to a laugh. ‘Yes, seeing you get off that coach was shock enough to send anyone into a swoon.’

  ‘I did not mean that, I mean nearly being trampled on by a horse. Did you not hear it behind you?’

  ‘No, I was looking at you.’ She paused. ‘You saved me. I thought it had come down on top of you.’

  ‘No, I managed to dodge it. But what about you? Are you hurt?’

  ‘No, shaken, that’s all.’ She paused. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘
I came to fetch you.’

  ‘Fetch me?’

  ‘Yes. I tired of waiting for you to send for me, so…’ He grinned. ‘If the mountain won’t come to Mahomet, then Mahomet must come to the mountain.’

  ‘I am sorry I did not answer your letter. I did not mean to keep you waiting, but my grandfather…’

  ‘I know and I am most dreadfully sorry. But where were you off to? Surely you are needed at the house?’

  ‘No.’ She smiled wanly. ‘My grandfather was buried today and the family are gathered like vultures. I could not bear it. It was lovely knowing him, if only for three short weeks, but it changed nothing. I am still Madeleine Charron, the actress. And before you say a word about being a viscount’s granddaughter, let me tell you that it makes not one jot of difference.’

  ‘No, my darling, not one jot.’ He smiled, taking her hand in his and gently stroking the back of it with his thumb. The sensation it engendered was out of all proportion to the tiny movement. Her whole body tingled with a desire so great she hardly knew how to control it. ‘You are what you are, forged by the hard life you have led, and are all the stronger for it. I love you for that. I love you for what you are, not whose child you are. Will you not be convinced?’

  Her heart was hammering in her throat, making it difficult to speak. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Damme!’ he exclaimed. ‘Did you think I penned that letter to you for fun? It took hours to compose. I am deadly serious. I want you to marry me. All I need is for you to say you love me too.’

  She was silent.

  ‘Madeleine, put me out of my torment, I beg you.’

  ‘Would you believe me if I said I did not? After all, how can you believe a word I say? I am an actress and a deceiver to boot.’

  ‘Don’t tease.’

  ‘I am not. I need to know you forgive me for it. I should never have tried to deceive you.’

  ‘No, but if you had not, I doubt you would be here now, talking to me like this. So, there is nothing to forgive. I understand.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes. Everyone needs a family. You did not have one and so you invented one.’

  ‘That wasn’t the only reason. I must tell you the whole truth.’

  He waited, steeling himself to hear that Henry Bulford had ravished her, but when she had told her story, all of it, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. ‘Oh, my love, I could run him through…’

  ‘You must not think of it. It does not matter now because everything has come out right in the end. I found my grandfather…’ She paused and laughed. ‘The real one. And it would not have mattered to me if he had been the poorest labourer.’

  ‘Nor to me. So what is stopping you from saying yes?’

  ‘Oh, Duncan, there will be so many obstacles. How can a marquis, the heir to a dukedom, marry an actress? I could not bear to be the cause of a rift between you and your family. When I saw you in the park surrounded by all those children, I knew I could never take you away from them. That was when I decided to leave London…’

  ‘And a merry dance you led me and none of it necessary, but you are found now and there are no obstacles that cannot be overcome and none of them put up by my family, I promise you. They will be happy for us. As for the wider world, who cares what the haut monde thinks when I have my heart’s desire.’

  Her tears were flowing now and she could not stop them. He lifted his hand and wiped them away with the back of his forefinger. ‘Dearest one, why are you weeping?’

  ‘Because, for the first time in my life, I am truly happy.’

  ‘Oh, Maddy.’ He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers, tenderly and gently, afraid to startle her, but she flung her arms about his neck and pulled him closer so that they were wrapped in each other’s arms so closely they were almost fused as one. At last, too breathless to continue, they drew apart. ‘May you never be sad again. And you won’t be if I have anything to do with it.’ He slipped from his seat and knelt beside her. ‘See, I am on my knees to you. I shall not rise until you agree to marry me.’

  She laughed. ‘Oh, do get up, Duncan, that floor is very dusty.’

  ‘Well?’

  She hesitated briefly, but then gave in. ‘Of course I will. How could you doubt it?’

  ‘Oh, my love, we shall be so happy.’ He rose to sit beside her and kissed her again and she kissed him back and it was only the light tap at the door that brought them back to their senses.

  It was the landlord, ushering in a waiter with food and wine for them. They sat silently watching as a cloth was put on a small table by the window and the dishes and glasses set upon it. Duncan dismissed the men, saying they would serve themselves and then he held out a hand to raise her to her feet and escort her to the table. ‘Now, we will eat and drink,’ he said. ‘And after that we will make plans.’

  In the euphoria of the moment, practical matters were far from her mind and she did not feel like eating, but he coaxed her gently to taste a little of the delicious meal and by then she was quaking at the enormity of what she had agreed to and was full of trepidation. He seemed to understand, for he reached out and put his hand over hers. ‘It will be all right, my love, I promise you.’

  ‘I hope so. Perhaps—’

  ‘No doubts now,’ he said, attempting to sound severe. ‘Where were you going when I came upon you? Back to London?’

  ‘Yes. I thought I might take up where I left off. I hoped Mr Greatorex would take me back…’

  ‘He would be a fool not to. But…’ He paused, not wanting to introduce a jarring note, but needing to know the true state of affairs at Pargeter House. ‘Did Viscount Armitage not make any provision for you?’

  ‘I do not think so. I have no dowry.’

  ‘I did not mean that and you know it.’ His reply was sharp until he saw the twinkle in her violet eyes and knew she was teasing. He realised he would never be quite sure when she was being serious and when she was gammoning him.

  ‘I know. I was thinking of my grandfather’s great-nephews and-nieces, all looking at me as if I were an interloper who had no right to be among them. And I suppose they were right. In any case, it does not matter. Grandfather was ill when I arrived and had no chance to change his will before he died, so I decided to leave. It was such a short episode in my life, I never really had time to become used to it.’

  ‘Madeleine, I am so sorry.’

  ‘Oh, do not be. Nothing is ever wasted. As you said earlier, our experiences forge our character and I think I might have learned a little wisdom along the way.’ She paused to chuckle. ‘And how to ride.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Well, I had made a start under the tutelage of a groom, and I found I enjoyed it.’

  He grinned. ‘Oh, we shall have such great times, riding on the moors about Loscoe Court.’ He paused. ‘If you agree, we will go there first. My family are there and they must be the first to know.’

  ‘Of course.’

  It was not until they were in the coach riding north that she began to shake uncontrollably. He seemed to understand, for he smiled as he put his arm about her. ‘Surely Madeleine Charron, the great actress who has entertained thousands and never turned a hair, is not quaking at the thought of meeting a handful of people who are already well disposed towards her? They will not throw orange peel.’

  She laughed and settled her dark head against his shoulder and slept. He woke her when they passed through the gates of Loscoe Court. ‘We are home, my love.’

  Home. It sounded like heaven. She watched the enormous building come into sight at the end of the long drive, and began to shake again. This was the country home of the Duke of Loscoe, and she was about to be introduced as a prospective daughter-in-law.

  The family must have heard the carriage arriving; before they had time to step down on the gravel, the door was flung open and the Duchess was on the step ready to greet her. She was drawn inside and was given such a welcome by the rest of the family she was overcome. But worrying h
er, like a gnat that would not stop nipping, was the question: would they have been so happy if she had not turned out to be the granddaughter of a viscount?

  It was Lavinia who set her mind at rest. They were sitting in the morning room with the sun streaming in the window, waiting for Duncan to come and take her out riding. She was dressed in her mother’s habit and Lavinia remarked how fetching it was and how it suited her and, when she did not reply, added, ‘What are you thinking of?’

  ‘What the world will say about it all. Whether they think I am puffed up and only accepted by Society because my grandpapa was a viscount. Do you think Duncan—?’

  ‘Good heavens, no! He does not care where you came from, he is only concerned that you have agreed to become his wife. And so are we all. His happiness comes first with us and it is clear to everyone that his happiness is with you. And it does not matter what the rest of the world thinks.’ She paused, smiling. ‘But there is no harm at all in using your new status to smooth his path, is there?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When the engagement is announced, which Duncan is very anxious should be soon, you could agree to allowing yourself to be called the granddaughter of the late Viscount Armitage, could you not? For his sake?’

  ‘What are you two plotting?’ Duncan came in, dressed for riding in soft leather breeches tucked into shining boots, a brown riding coat with velvet revers and cuffs and a snowy cravat fastened with a diamond pin. Her heart leapt at the sight of him, as it always did, and she rose to take his hands. He bent and kissed her cheek. ‘Well?’

  ‘We were simply discussing the form the announcement of our betrothal should take.’

  ‘A mere formality, my darling. Leave it to me.’

  ‘And you are determined to tell the world you are marrying Madeleine Charron, the actress, are you not?’