by Jane Lark
And the times he had hit her the worst. It had been betrayal.
“Do you wish me with you?” Mary asked.
“No. Thank you.” She could not bear to tell the truth of her humiliation before Mary, she wished no one to know. Yet she must speak to save Drew. “If I speak, will the details remain private?”
“I shall ask for the records to be handled discretely.”
Caro took a breath trying to calm her heart and the terror in her blood. “You may take me to him. I will speak.”
The magistrate rose as she entered the room. He was a large, tall man. His gaze studied her as she walked across the room. He knew things about her and she could see in his eyes that he assumed other things. But she doubted Drew had spoken of the children; she hoped he had not. Yet it was the reason she was here. If there had been living children perhaps Albert would have adored her still.
“Please sit.” The magistrate lifted a hand.
She did so, as he sat too. Lord Wiltshire sat beside him.
“Please tell me about your relationship with your brother, Lady Kilbride?”
She took a breath, then began from when they were children, because the isolation and ill-treatment they had suffered then was what had truly brought them together and held them fast.
“And since your marriage?”
“We have not been so close. My husband did not wish me to go out alone, but Drew and I have managed to speak.” She’d spoken to Drew mostly about the beatings since her marriage.
“To speak…”
She took a breath. She did not care for the inflection in the magistrate’s tone. If she was to save Drew she must tell him what she spoke to Drew about. Tears welled in her eyes and her fingers shook as nausea spun in her stomach.
“Here.” Lord Wiltshire passed her his handkerchief.
“I spoke to him mostly when my husband beat me. Drew would give me comfort.”
“Comfort…”
She had looked at her hands, but now she looked up and glared at the magistrate, her heart racing wildly. “Not the physical kind. I sought words of comfort. He was someone to speak with when I had no one else. As I said, neither my mother nor my sister will speak with me.”
“And so you turned to a brother.”
“Yes. Because my brother is a good man.” She stared at the magistrate, denying the accusations in his eyes, as fear danced through her nerves, running up her spine.
“It has never gone further? Never become something beyond what it ought to be? You have been accused of incest by your husband.”
“My husband is a liar. He does not like to lose. There has never been anything inappropriate between myself and my brother. My husband is merely angry because I have left him and my brother has enabled it.” And she had once thought that man cared for her… She was a fool. Her heart had been deceived. Yet it could not forget the web of emotions his shallow devotion had cast. It wished to believe his devotion continued to lie beneath all else, and guilt had hung over her since she’d fled because, despite everything, her heart told her she’d been disloyal and had disgraced herself—and him.
“And you have left your husband because?”
“I cannot breathe,” she said to Lord Wiltshire as the vice of terror tightened about her chest.
He rose and turned, going to a table across the room, then returned with a glass of amber liquor. “Here.”
She swallowed a mouthful. It burned the back of her throat, but it relaxed the muscles in her chest. “Because he beat me, violently, sometimes daily. If I had stayed with him he would have killed me. Is it a crime to wish to be alive?” Her words echoed through her head. Was it a crime? She felt as though it was, and now she served her sentence. She had spoken the words to her foolish heart as well as to these men.
“It is no crime. But nor is it crime for your husband to reprimand you, yet neither point is the cause of my investigation. Did anyone witness the Marquis strike you? I am not entirely insensitive to the fact that such a thing would justify and explain your brother protecting you.”
Nor is it a crime for your husband to reprimand you… So the men agreed to her guilt—that she ought to be blamed and chastised for her inability to breed. Hearts should not be involved in marriage—love like that which Drew had found was abnormal. Most couples in society lived without love.
Yet what the magistrate said meant there was hope for Drew, if there was a witness who would dare to stand against Albert.
Caro drank the last of the brandy, then passed the empty glass to Lord Wiltshire. Her fingers curled tighter about the handkerchief in her hand. “My lady’s maid would be able to give you an account of the events which she witnessed, but I cannot say where she will be, she will have been dismissed, and if you find her you will need to promise that her name will not be released.” She looked at the Duke. “She will need to be protected if she is willing to speak.” Albert’s temper may turn against her as it had turned against Drew.
But all would be laid bare if they spoke to her maid. Betsy would tell them the words Albert spoke when he’d beaten Caro and then they would know she was incapable of providing him with a child.
Heat burned in Caro’s cheeks and tears made the Duke shimmer. She looked at the floor, shame lancing through her breast as the tears ran on to her cheeks.
“Thank you, Ma’am. We are finished.” The magistrate and the Duke of Arundel stood.
Caro wiped the tears from her cheeks.
The Duke walked past her and then opened the door to let the magistrate leave.
“I believe Lady Kilbride would appreciate your company, Mary. John, may I stay with you and dine here before I return to town?”
Caro rose and turned as Mary came into the room. She clasped Caro’s hands. “I am sorry you had to endure this.”
Mary was kind and generous in nature. She loved Drew deeply and she never hid those feelings. Caro could see now how Mary had drawn out the best qualities in Drew.
“Better that than for Drew to suffer because of me.” Caro would never forgive herself if her failure destroyed Mary’s and Drew’s chance of happiness.
Tears sparkled in Mary’s eyes, then fresh tears spilled from Caro’s. She leant to embrace Mary as Mary embraced her, both offering comfort. Caro broke the embrace, heat burning in her cheeks. “I am sorry.”
Mary wiped away her tears with the sleeve of her dress. “You have no cause to be sorry.”
“I do. This is my fault.”
“It is not… It is no one’s fault, and we are going to remain calm. That is what is best for Andrew, and we are going to feel confident and trust Richard to return him to us.”
“The magistrate did not believe me, not wholly. He is going to speak with one of my lady’s maids to ask her to confirm what I have said. The whole thing is mortifying… and then I think of Drew in a cell, alone. When he has done nothing to deserve it.”
Mary gripped Caro’s hand. “I know. I know you are both innocent. I know you have both been through so much. But that is over now. We will have faith.”
Caro gave her a tentative smile. “Thank you. Thank you for your concern. But most of all, thank you for loving Drew. He needed a woman like you –”
“And I need him –” Mary smiled, but a tear escaped.
Caro wiped it away with the handkerchief she held. “I am glad for you both.”
A light knock struck the door, which had been left ajar. “Come!” Mary called.
“Sorry to interrupt.” It was the Duchess of Pembroke, Mary’s sister-in-law. “It is just, I wished to let you know we are serving dinner. Your uncle is staying with us to dine, Mary, and he sent me to fetch you to ensure you came to the table. “Will you dine with us, Lady Kilbride?” The Duchess looked at Caro and Mary, as they looked at her.
The Duchess had requested Caro’s attendance at the table daily and yet Caro had kept to the rooms she’d been allotted. She felt safe there. Among people, the sense of shame and discomfort was overwhelming.
Caro shook her head.
“I will leave you, then. Come when you are ready, Mary.”
“I’m sorry,” Caro whispered. “I feel as though they must think I am rude and disrespectful of their hospitality, but I… I cannot tell you how I feel. I… Do you think the Duchess would send my dinner to my room?” How could she explain her feelings to Mary? She was beginning to feel as if she were mad.
“Of course she will. You must not feel pressed.”
“Thank you, Mary. I will retire, then.”
“Yes. But send a maid to fetch me if you need me.”
Caro nodded.
They left the room together, but when Mary turned towards the dining room, Caro turned to climb the stairs.
~
Caro waited in the drawing room of the Pembrokes’ giant Palladian mansion, seated in a corner, beside Mary’s mother, her fingers clasped in her lap, struggling to control her breathing and the pounding of her heart.
But Drew was here. Free. She had been told by the Duchess an hour ago that he’d arrived. They’d all hoped today. She’d heard them talking even from upstairs.
The house was full of people. All of Mary’s extended family had come from town to celebrate on Drew’s behalf, and they were all in the room. Caro felt crowded as she waited, smothered by them. Her nerves screamed.
Mary’s mother had said he was with Mary still. Yet he must come down soon. Caro had been waiting nearly half an hour.
When Mary came into the room she was alone. She walked across it and whispered something in her father’s ear, then they left together.
Caro’s gaze hung on the door while Mary’s mother talked of her younger children. Caro was not listening.
The noise of conversation was intense, deafening. A shiver ran up her spine. It was more than simple fear, though. There was annoyance and anger inside her too. She wished to scream as much as run.
She was falling to pieces. At any moment the panic inside would explode and she would shatter like glass.
But Drew was free…
Maybe she ought to retire to her rooms. He would come up to her.
She was about to stand and declare her apology when he came into the room, his hand holding Mary’s.
The room broke into applause and he smiled self-consciously. She had never seen him look humble as he did in that moment, and yet there was pride in his eyes when he looked at Mary. He had won himself a place in this family. He had achieved what Caro never would—a good marriage. He deserved this. She did not begrudge him it and nor would she spoil this moment for him. She would not run.
While the men moved to speak with him, Caro tried to make conversation with Mary’s mother, but all the time her awareness was on the proximity of her brother. She looked up. Drew spoke with Mary’s younger brother, Robert, a tall, slender youth. Mary lifted a hand and pointed Caro out, and then Drew looked and a moment later he turned towards her. But his progress towards her was hindered by well-wishers.
The sight of him filled Caro with a mix of emotions, relief and happiness, he was her home, the only place she felt safe, but there was sadness too, to know that she was dependent on him.
When Drew reached her he sank down onto his haunches and took her hands in his, looking concerned. “How are you, Caro?”
Caro hugged him and broke into sobs, the pent-up fear and pain spilling out of her. He held her in return.
“I am glad you are safe. I am sorry. This was my fault,” she whispered in his ear.
“No,” he whispered back, speaking into her ear too. “It was not. It was Kilbride’s, but it is done with, and all will be well now, I promise.”
“I feared for you, but it seems now you have all you deserve.”
“I was afraid for me too,” he jested. “This feels strange, doesn’t it? I shall not lie. I am ready to run as much as you are, I should think… But these people are not like ours, Caro –“
“I know.”
“The Duke of Arundel, Lord Wiltshire, Mary’s uncle, told me Kilbride is going to sue for divorce. You will be free soon, too, and then you may begin a new life.”
Fresh tears gathered in her eyes. Albert wished to be rid of her entirely, and then he would find a wife who would bear him children. The pain of that cut at her heart. Drew pulled away and gripped her hands gently.
He would never understand if she told him she loved Albert still.
Mary touched Drew’s shoulder and Caro looked up to see her holding out a gentleman’s handkerchief. Lord Marlow’s, Mary’s father’s.
“Thank you.” Caro forced a smile, then looked away as she dabbed at her tears.
“All will be well, now,” Drew said, his hand patting her arm. Then he stood and looked at Lord Marlow. “I thought you were hungry. Are we not going to eat?”
Lord Marlow turned and in a moment the dinner gong sounded.
Caro’s heart pounded, but Drew gave Mary an apologetic smile and raised his arm to Caro.
She stood and lay her fingers on his sleeve. Drew was her security—and now her only hold on sanity. She could not have walked into the room to dine without him.
“I shall buy you some new clothes,” he said quietly as they walked ahead of Mary and her father. “Living among the Pembrokes is not the same as living in a cottage.”
“I cannot bear this, Drew, is there nowhere else –”
“I have a home. I am buying a property bordering Pembroke’s. You will have a home there too, Caro.”
Tears blurred her vision again. She was grateful, and yet she did not wish to be a burden and beholden to him for the rest of her days, a poor, shamed, dependent relation.
She would be a blight on his happy home.
Chapter 5
Three years later
Rob leaned on a windowsill in the first-floor drawing room, looking out onto the gardens below. His gaze caught a sudden movement across the lawn. It could have been the shadow of a cloud sweeping across the sky, if the movement was dark and not light. But it had been something pale blue.
It could have been a ghost if it was night and not midday. But it was not a spectre. He would lay strong odds it was the tail end of Caroline Framlington’s skirt disappearing behind the hedge. Perhaps a ghost of sorts, then.
Rob leant more firmly onto the windowsill.
Her fingers had held the rim of her bonnet, hiding her face as she’d hurried away, head down, scurrying from the house.
He assumed she’d left the house because he’d arrived. He had not even come within ten feet of her. It did not bode well.
“Do not take it personally.” His brother-in-law said jovially, in a low tone, resting a palm on Rob’s shoulder. “Caro does not appreciate company.”
Rob turned to look at Drew “And male company particularly… Yes, I know. Are you sure it is a good idea for me to stay here if it will disturb her?”
“Life must go on, Robbie, she cannot orchestrate what we do. Caro will keep to her rooms as she does most of the time. I wish she would be braver, but I do not have the heart to force her into facing her fears, and yet nor will I pander to them. She’ll cope because she has to. We have servants, after all, and men among them. It is not only Mary and I who live here. It is just because your presence is unfamiliar and so she feels threatened.”
“I could stay at John’s.”
“Rattling about your brother’s monstrosity of a mansion on your own. No, Robbie. Mary invited you for the summer because she wants to spend time with you. You and I can go out shooting and fishing, and riding.”
“I can ride over daily from John’s and do that. His property is only a few miles from yours.”
“And kick around the house alone all night, bored. Do not be foolish. You will stay, and Caro will adjust. It is only going to be for the summer. Caro will survive.”
“Or hide.”
“Well more likely that. But either way, it will do her no harm.”
“Uncle Bobbie!” George, Drew’s son, charged across the roo
m and barrelled into Rob’s leg. The boy was barely two, and a little tyke, but adorable despite it. He still refused to sound his “r”s and thus Rob, known to his family as Robbie, had become Uncle Bobbie to the boy.
Rob bent and caught the child by his chubby arms, lifted him and tossed him in the air once, then caught him and turned him upside down. George laughed in his childish giggle.
His nephew was another good reason to stay, as was his infant niece, whom his sister currently cradled on her arm while speaking with their mother.
Rob loved the children. There was something very endearing about being hero-worshipped by George, something his younger brothers rarely did.
Mary was the sibling he was fondest of. She was the closest to him in age and temperament, and her notorious husband had always treated Rob like a grown man, even when Rob had been scarcely that. Rob had been eighteen when Drew and Mary had eloped.
“And I have been looking forward to your company, as has this rapscallion.”
“Uncle Bobbie, I want to fly!” George cried.
Rob carefully let him descend to the floor, head first.
The boy rolled onto his back, then rose and turned to his papa to be caught up again, in a firm hold. “Your uncle Robbie is not going to swing you about all day, George.”
“Boats!” The boy yelled.
Rob ruffled the child’s hair. “Yes, I will play boats and kites, and ball, George. We’ll do lots of things.”
“Aun’ie Ca’o too.”
“Perhaps.” Drew avoided the true answer.
“We ought to be getting back to John’s, if you are ready, Robbie?” Rob looked at his mother as she stood up.
Mary stood too, with the baby sleeping in her arms. “We shall see you at John’s tomorrow. I believe we have even persuaded Caro to come, because the children are. But I doubt she will speak to anyone but them.”
“I do feel sorry for her. I wish there was more I could do.” Their mother smiled at Mary, then Drew. “But I have no idea how to help her, she always looks so uncomfortable the moment I begin any more personal conversation.”
“She is not so unhappy, Mama. She adores the children. She would be more distressed to think you pitied her.”