She tilted her chin up to face him. She could not help smiling and part of her hoped he might guess. She was still a little shy of talking about intimate things and she looked away before she could speak.
"I have something to tell you," she said, her eyes fixed on the floor. "I am with child."
She looked back at him nervously to be met with that beautiful smile.
"Oh, my darling!" He cried with joy. He put his hands on either side of her waist and lifted her off her feet. "Are you sure?" She nodded. "Are you well?" She nodded again. His lips met hers and kissed her hungrily and she wondered fleetingly if they should be doing this.
"Does it mean that we will have to stop?" She asked him, hoping he would know what she meant.
"I hope not," he answered with a grin, then he began to unlace her bodice.
After they had made love that time, as she lie in his arms, she decided she should not be keeping any secrets from him.
"I have something else to tell you," she said. "Well, two somethings really."
"Yes," he said, and began to trace a pattern on her arm with his fingers.
"Your brother," she said hesitantly. "He plans to marry the daughter of the woman who runs the orphan home."
His fingers stilled and she felt him turn his head.
"Charlotte?" He said, then he relaxed and laughed gently. "Well, that is wonderful news."
"You are pleased?"
"Of course. He has known her all his life, so they should know by now how they feel."
She made no reply. She could think of nothing to say which would not spoil the moment, but she really had a lot more to say on the subject. She was not sure what reaction she had expected of him, since his sister seemed to think there was nothing untoward about their brother’s relationship. Susannah’s parents were liberal in their way, but her father was very sure of his own position and she was quite certain that her brother would never have been allowed to make such an alliance. But would he? They loved each other too, and Alex was the younger brother, not the heir. Joshua would never have been permitted such a marriage, surely? It was different for a younger son, of course it was.
When they were dressed he said he had to help his father with estate business and would not be back for some hours. He leaned over and kissed her goodbye.
She should have left the subject alone, should have realised by the overwhelming acceptance that it was not a subject for which she was entitled to put forth her opinion. But she could not help it. Like her mother, she had always been one to speak her mind; that was why this marriage was so right for them both.
"Just one thing," she said. "This Charlotte who Alex wants to marry."
"What about her?"
"I realise your family are a little eccentric so I should not be surprised that your father might allow his son to marry the daughter of a former servant, but we have no idea who her father was." She paused, watching a frown appear on his face. "Does that not concern any of you?"
He said nothing for a moment, but his expression told her he was not pleased.
"I believe he was of the same species as us," he replied at last with a note of anger she had never heard before. "I do not think he was an ape or even a madman, although of course I cannot be certain. Besides, I am fairly sure my brother does not want to marry her father."
“She could be a bastard for all anyone knows.”
“She could,” he said. “But I do not think it is hereditary.”
His words hurt, but she could not let go of the subject. She might never find the courage to broach it again.
"You know what I am talking about."
"Yes," he replied angrily. "I am very much afraid that I do. At least my brother will have the advantage over me when it comes to knowing his bride before he ties himself to her."
He turned on his heel and left her sitting on the bed, feeling more distraught than ever before and wishing she had never spoken of Alex and his wretched serving girl. She could not believe he was telling her he regretted their marriage. She just lie down on the bed and sobbed.
***
Joshua was angry when he left their apartment and he regretted his anger. He was shocked that his wife had made such an argument, but he should not have been, should he? Although her family were similar to his own, they were not the same; no one was the same and he should have realised she might have some objection to such a match.
As he emerged, his father appeared, looking concerned. Joshua swiftly closed the door behind him, but not swift enough to shut out the sound of sobbing coming from within.
"Joshua," he said. "I hear weeping. I do not like to hear weeping in my house; do something about it please."
"I cannot, father," Joshua protested. "I am too angry to go in there with her, far too angry."
“Tell me,” Richard said. “Is your wife with child?”
“How did you know?”
“A certain look, a certain glow. You will learn in time. Congratulations; she will make a fine mother and you will make a fine father.”
“I do not feel like a fine husband right now, Father,” he said. “She has made me so angry.”
"You had best not be too angry to comfort her. She is your wife, the future mother of your child. That makes her special enough to make allowances for."
"She said..." Joshua stopped abruptly as his father raised a hand to silence him.
"I do not wish to know what she said," he responded. "It is between the two of you."
"No father," Joshua protested. "It is not about us; it is about Alex."
"Alex?"
"Yes. He wants to marry Charlotte. My wife does not think she is a suitable match for the son of an earl."
"Ah, I see."
"Her main objection seems to be that we have no idea who her father was."
Lord Summerville was thoughtful for a few moments, then he sighed as though he had come to a decision.
"As it happens, Joshua," he said, "I do know who her father was, but I am not going to tell you or Alex or her for that matter, so please do not ask. It is really her mother's decision whether she wants to tell her. I think that in this case, she is better off not knowing."
Susannah opened the door then and looked from one man to the other. Joshua was still angry, but his father gave her one of his lovely smiles.
“I am sorry,” she said. “It is entirely up to your Lordship who you allow your son to wed. I was surprised that Joshua took it so well; I see I have a lot to learn about this family. Even my own father, kind and considerate as he is, would never have allowed this.”
“I do not believe that, Susannah,” Richard said. “I have known your father a long time and he knows what heartbreak there is in losing the person one loves. Cupid knows no barriers; he does not consider ancestry when he decides to aim his arrows.”
“I promised Alex you would not be told,” she muttered.
"Then we must be very sure he does not find out," the Earl replied. Then he turned to his son and touched his arm encouragingly. "You need to sort this out. You can follow me later."
Then he walked away leaving them to study each other resentfully. She was still smarting from his earlier remarks, he was still angry about her objection to his brother's choice of bride. He came inside and they sat together on the settle, but he made no move to touch her.
"I am sorry," she began at once. "I should know by now that your family do things differently. It was not my place to object."
"No it was not," he agreed.
She did not look at him, but she could feel his eyes on her. She thought he might go on, tell her he regretted his own words, but he only stared at her.
"Did you mean it?" She said through gathering tears. "Did you mean what you said about regretting you married me?"
"That is not what I said, is it?"
"That is how I heard it. You said your brother was more fortunate in marrying someone he knew well. That speaks of regret."
He took her hand then and his exp
ression softened at last.
"Forgive me," he said. "It was said in haste and in anger. No I do not regret having married you. I consider myself honoured to be married to you. But you are a Summerville now and you have to learn how we do things."
"I love you, Joshua," she said. "I have never said it before, but I do. I do not want us to argue."
He took her chin in his hand and tilted it up, forcing her eyes to meet his.
"Then I am indeed honoured, and fortunate," he said softly. "I love you too. I wish I had said it before as well, and there is no excuse for that. Do you love me enough to learn how we Summervilles do things? Remember what I said when first we met?"
"You said a lot of things," she replied.
"Do you love me enough to live in a shack with me? Or is that yet to come?"
She remembered then what he had said he wanted. She had been holding back, too shy to let herself go, to surrender completely to her feelings. She thought about it now: live in a shack with him, or live in this mansion without him? There was no choice.
"No," she said at last. "It is not yet to come. I would be honoured to share a shack with you."
He kissed her then, long and thrillingly, making her breasts tingle and her body flutter with excitement. Her arms went around his neck and she pressed herself into him, kissing him back, holding him tight.
"God, how I love you!" She told him. "Hurry back, please."
***
That night as they lie in each other's arms after making love, she once more tried to explain her mistake, but he would have none of it.
"It is forgotten," he said. "I know it is hard for you. You have been raised with the ideas of your class, of our class, but my father does not approve of those ideas. I should have been more understanding."
"I have never met anyone quite like your father," she said.
"I doubt that anyone has," Joshua replied with an indulgent smile. "For someone who was chief advisor to the Queen, he certainly has some very odd ideas."
"Chief advisor to the Queen? I did not know that."
"Yes. Queen Mary, apparently. At least that is what my sister told me. She had it from my mother and from Lady Rachel."
"She is another enigma in this house," Susannah said quickly. "Who is she, Joshua? Estelle is convinced she was once your father's mistress. So are the servants. Your mother had to bully them into treating her with respect."
"Maybe she was," he replied quietly. "Does it matter? She is dying now, her beauty is withering. If her final wish is to die in peace with the only man she has ever loved, what is wrong with that? Whether that love was physical or not is of no consequence now, if it ever was."
"Your mother must love him so much, to accept her into her household, even if she is dying. She is not doing it for her, she is doing it for him."
"She told my sister that Rachel saved her life once, at great risk to her own."
"How?"
He shrugged.
"She would not say. There are a lot of things about the past she will not reveal and we have learned to respect that." He paused then turned to her suddenly. "There was something else you said you wanted to tell me this morning, before I upset you."
"I am not sure whether it is important or not now. I thought you would be shocked to hear about your brother, but I was wrong. I may well be wrong about your sister as well."
"Estelle? Is she also getting herself secretly betrothed?"
"I know not what she is doing," she said. "She has been riding out alone and I believe she is meeting with the new owner of Winterton House."
"Winterton House? I knew nothing about a new owner."
"It has been inherited by a very good looking young man named Simon Carlisle. I could see Estelle was taken with him when we first met, but she has not asked me to ride with her since." She looked up at him thoughtfully before she went on, not wanting a repeat of this morning's misunderstanding. "Is it within your father's enlightened ideas for her to be going alone to meet a strange young man? I do not want to say the wrong thing again."
"To be honest, I have no idea," he replied. "I believe he would prefer to know the man she is meeting, but he would not object to her meeting him, no. He trusts her."
"But does he trust the young men she might meet?"
“You have a point, my love. It is possible that this man is not respectable and may take advantage of her. I had best speak to her about it."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Estelle’s head was full of Simon Carlisle when she went with her mother to visit Rachel in the apartments provided for her. Part of her wanted to tell her family about him, but another part could not bear to share him with them. She wanted to keep him to herself for a little while longer.
Rachel looked weak and thin, and she was sitting up in bed with a reminiscent expression when they entered.
"Bethany," she greeted her with a smile. "Estelle. How kind of you to take the time."
"Of course we will take the time," Bethany replied as she bent over and kissed her cheek, then sat on the bed beside her.
"I am still grateful, and more than grateful to you for inviting me to stay. I know not what you said to your Thomas, but even he has been polite and respectful."
"So he should be. Richard will have his hide if he is not, that I can assure you."
"Richard is angry," Rachel whispered hoarsely.
"Yes. He hates to see you like this and he knows who to blame."
Rachel took a little hand mirror from beneath the covers and held it up to gaze back at her own reflection.
"I have wanted for years to find some way to destroy this face," she said mysteriously. "I would have slashed it had I the courage. But I do not have your courage, my dear, I never did. Now it is waning, this beauty I have heard about all my life, but I cannot enjoy the luxury of walking in the streets and have nobody watching me, no men leering, no women scowling. I am cosseted here and you and your wonderful children are the only ones who can know. Is that not ironic?"
"You have the courage, Rachel," Bethany replied softly. "Were it not for your courage, I would likely not be here to welcome you into my house. It is a small price to pay for what you did for me."
Estelle longed to ask what they were talking about, but she knew she would be wasting her breath. Rachel's eyes closed and she struggled to open them, to keep awake.
"We will leave you to rest. Richard will visit this afternoon."
As she closed the door behind them, Estelle turned to face her mother. She could contain her curiosity no longer.
"Does it not disturb you, Mother," she asked, "that my father visits his former mistress, alone and in her bedchamber, every single day, and he does so with your blessing?"
Again that thoughtful silence, but she did not deny that Rachel was his former mistress; nothing was said about that.
"What do you imagine they do during his visits?" She answered at last. "Do you think perhaps he beds her while they are alone? Do you imagine she is strong enough for that?" She paused and watched for a reaction, watched Estelle’s cheeks flare red, but she still wore her contented, serene look. "Even if she were, do you think your father would betray me like that? In my own house?"
"No, of course not!" Estelle protested quickly.
"Rachel has had a very tragic life, an unhappy and lonely life. If she wants to spend her last days with the only man who ever really loved her, why should I not give my blessing?"
***
After their meeting with Simon Carlisle, Estelle found she could not quite get him out of her mind. She had persuaded Susannah not to tell anyone, but it was not true that Alex should not have left them. They were after all on their own land when he rode away, and he had no way of knowing they were going to Winterton House, nor did he know it was occupied.
The house had been abandoned for as long as Estelle could remember and the grounds were kept up by local labourers, paid by Sir Geoffrey's brother. She was curious about the new owner and felt more comfort
able talking to him without Susannah listening in.
She had already broken her promise to Alex by letting Joshua know without telling him to keep it to himself. Now their father knew, which was what Alex was trying to avoid.
The first time Estelle visited alone she felt a little apprehensive. For one thing, she had no idea what he might think of her for going there alone and secondly, she knew nothing about him. He could be some madman for all she knew, but she had judged him to be amiable enough.
She was tying her horse to a nearby tree when he came out, having heard her ride up.
"Good morning, My Lady," he said with a bow.
"Good morning, Sir," she replied politely. "I hope you do not object. I came to see how things were progressing. I am sure my parents will be happy to know the house will be occupied once more."
He smiled that familiar smile again, then held out his arm for her to take.
"I have still not decided," he replied. "My father is anxious for me to sell the place, buy something smaller closer to him. But I am not sure to whom I could sell it in the state it is in. It seems disrespectful to my mother to sell it and there is still much I wish to explore inside."
She took his arm and he led her toward the house, then stopped at the threshold and turned to look at her.
"Do you mind?" He asked suddenly. "I was not thinking. Is it in order for you to come inside?"
"I think so," she replied. "Your mother is dead?"
"She died when I was only two. I never even knew what she looked like before. My father is a farmer and we do not go in for paintings and things." He paused and looked very excited. "I found her portrait inside," he said excitedly. "It is the first time I have really known what she looked like. My father has described her to me on many occasions, but it is hard to imagine someone you have never seen. I would be honoured to show it to you."
The woman in the portrait was stunningly beautiful. Her thick hair was almost white, just like her son's, and she wore a low cut gown of blue velvet, which matched her eyes and made their colour more vivid. She looked wistful, sad even. The engraved plaque below the portrait stated that this was Lady Julia Winterton.
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