A Worthy Gentleman

by Anne Herries

  ‘I shall be well enough in a day or so,’ John said. ‘I leave it to you to make the arrangements, Charles. I think the wedding should be called for a month’s time. Do you wish for it here or at your country home, Sarah?’

  ‘I think I should like to go home,’ Sarah said. ‘But not for a few days. You must rest, John, and I think we should give a small dance, as Charles said—though I think that too could be held at home. We do not need to invite the whole of society, only the friends we truly like.’

  ‘Very sensible,’ Charles agreed with a look of approval. ‘I shall stay one more night and then go home to make the arrangements. I do not care to be away from Belle too long at this time, and you are safe now, Sarah. You and mama may follow in a few days—and perhaps John will accompany you?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he said, smiling at Sarah. ‘I am at your disposal, my dearest.’

  ‘Oh, John,’ Sarah said, and her face was soft with tenderness as she gazed up at him. ‘Are you sure you are well enough to be up?’

  ‘I am a little tired,’ he told her. The truth would have been that he was close to exhaustion, but he knew that she was anxious. ‘Do not worry, Sarah. I shall be much better in a day or two, I promise you.’

  Mrs Hunter sniffed into her kerchief, but did not say anything. She had been shocked by her son’s revelations concerning the Duke of Pentyre, but that did not mean she was entirely reconciled to the marriage. She listened to the plans for her daughter’s wedding going on around her, but took no part in them. It was to be hoped the rumours of John’s involvement in his wife’s death would die down, but she was afraid that the news of his impending marriage might pour fat on the flames.

  ‘Your news is disturbing,’ John said when he and Charles were alone later that day. ‘Do think the report is accurate?’

  ‘Tobbold is an excellent man. If he says he thinks he may be on to something, I believe you can rely on him. Apparently, a stranger has been seen a few times in your village, and one old woman said that it was not the first time. She seems to think that he was there some months back, though she cannot be certain where or when she saw him.’

  ‘But why does he wish to blacken my name?’ John asked, looking puzzled. ‘Tobbold said that he had the manner and bearing of a soldier—but I cannot think of anyone I might have offended to such a degree.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ Charles said hesitantly. ‘This touches on your private affairs and I hesitate to ask—but is Nathaniel your son? I know that you care for him, love him as a father, but was he actually fathered by someone else?’

  ‘Yes…’ A flicker of pain crossed John’s face. The guilt was still strong in him, guilt for having failed the woman he had married. ‘I have not told you before, Charles, because I felt it disloyal to Andrea—and I would not have it go further. She was with child when she came to me and begged for my help. She told me that she had been forced and was afraid to confess to her father.’ John frowned, his eyes dark with memories ‘She was just a child in my eyes. I felt sympathy for her and I told her I would marry her. It was an impulsive and perhaps a foolish thing to have done, for I did not love her as I ought. I tried to be kind to her, but she was unhappy. Our marriage was…well, it did not properly begin, and I think she felt desperate towards the end. I have blamed myself for her death. Had I been a better husband, she might not have been driven to take her own life.’

  ‘Andrea told you that she was forced?’ John nodded his head and Charles looked thoughtful. ‘Supposing she lied to gain your sympathy? Just imagine this scenario for a moment: She had a lover and she lay with him because she loved him—’ Charles held up his hand as John would have protested. ‘No, let me finish. Just suppose that her lover was sent away, either by her father—or perhaps, if he were a soldier, by his commanding officer. Andrea is left alone and discovers that she is to have a child. She cannot contact her lover and so she turns to a friend—and he, being the perfect gentleman that you are, John, asks her to marry him. She accepts because she can see no way out of her difficulty, but then she begins to wish that she had been braver—that she had waited for her lover to return.’

  John turned away, going over to the window to look out at the formal gardens at the front of the house. ‘I cannot deny that the picture you have painted could be true,’ he said, his back turned towards Charles. ‘There were times when I thought she was trying to tell me something and I ignored her. You see, I too wished that I had waited. I knew that Andrea was not the woman I ought to have married. I did not love her as I ought and she sensed it, even though I tried to be kind. And yet why would this man…her lover…why would he try to ruin me like this? Why not demand a showdown, accuse me to my face? If it were me, I should want to thrash the man who had taken the woman I loved from me.’

  ‘That is the mystery,’ Charles said and looked thoughtful. ‘I cannot imagine why he would spread these rumours. He may hate you for taking Andrea from him and he may blame you for her untimely death; he might even try to kill you—but I agree that he would have done better to speak to you man to man.’

  ‘I should like to put an end to this,’ John said. ‘Sarah has been brave enough to consent to the wedding despite the tales, but I should like to clear my name—for her sake, if not my own.’

  ‘My sister has more sense than to be put off by malicious gossip,’ Charles said. ‘If it were just the tales, I should not be concerned, John. However, I do not wish to see her a widow before she has hardly become a wife.’

  John’s gaze narrowed as he looked at him. ‘You seriously think that my life might be at risk? If I believed that—’ He broke off for a moment, and then, ‘I did hesitate to ask Sarah at first, Charles. As soon as I saw her again I knew that I still loved her, but I held back. I was blaming myself for Andrea’s death, and I was concerned about these rumours. I hesitated before asking Sarah to be my wife for her sake, but I was forced to go home when my son became ill. When she came to me like that, when she saved my life and risked everything for my sake—what else could I do? Had I not done so, your mother might have had her way and forced Sarah to marry Pentyre. I did what I had to do, Charles.’

  ‘Yes, I know, and it was exactly what I would have expected of you, John. Sarah was reckless and, if you had not behaved as you ought, she would have been ruined. Besides, she loves you.’

  ‘I love her,’ John said. ‘But if this threat is real…perhaps I should not have spoken. If Sarah is at risk…’ His hands balled into clenched fists at the idea. John gave the impression of being a quiet man, of taking things in his stride, but there was a well of passion and anger inside him as he considered that someone might wish to harm the woman he loved. ‘If something were to happen to her, I should never forgive myself!’

  ‘We shall guard against that,’ Charles said. ‘Tobbold’s men can keep a watch over her—but you must be careful too, John. I would not have anything happen to you, my friend.’

  ‘It is Sarah that I am concerned for,’ John said, looking doubtful. ‘If I thought she was in danger I would withdraw despite what it would cost me. I think that perhaps I did her a disservice in asking her to be my wife, Charles. I should have waited until I got to the bottom of this business. And yet I really had no choice. Sarah’s reputation would have been lost had I not spoken when I did…’

  Outside the door, having just paused to knock, Sarah heard John’s last words and drew her breath in sharply. What was John saying? It sounded as if he was explaining that he had asked her to marry him simply to save her from gossip.

  She turned and walked away swiftly, not waiting to hear her brother’s answer. It was as her mother had warned her! John had simply done the decent thing in asking her to marry him. The pain of that knowledge struck hard and deep, bringing a rush of tears to her eyes.

  ‘But you love her, John,’ Charles went on, unaware that a small part of their conversation had been overheard. ‘This thing may never be truly finished. You cannot ruin both her life and your own simply because yo
u have an enemy. No, my friend, you did the right thing. All I am saying is that you must be on your guard at all times. I do not think Sarah is at risk particularly. It is you this man hates and you he means to pursue until he has ruined you…’

  Sarah was close to tears as she ran upstairs. If John had asked her to marry him simply because she had placed him in an impossible position, it would be too awful. No decent gentleman would do other than propose after what she had done for him. It was possible that John might have died if she had not nursed him so devotedly, although Mrs Beeson had done her best in difficult circumstances. Sarah had been impulsive and reckless, and her mama had had been right to be cross with her. She felt ashamed and guilty over her behaviour, especially if she had forced John into an awkward situation.

  Yet surely he cared for her? He had said it and she believed him. Perhaps she had simply misunderstood what she had overheard. Blinking back her tears, she thrust the doubts to the back of her mind. She loved John and he loved her. She would not let doubts creep in to spoil her happiness.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘I am so pleased for you, dear Sarah,’ Tilda said, smiling at her. ‘I have always liked Mr Elworthy. He seems such a quiet gentleman, but is so brave and kind—and I know he is very fond of you.’

  The four of them were sitting in Lady Tate’s pleasant parlour, which was at the back of the house and overlooked a long, narrow garden. Mrs Hunter and Lady Tate were discussing the wedding invitations, which had been delivered from the printing house that morning.

  ‘It is not quite what I should have liked,’ Mrs Hunter said in a plaintive voice. ‘But you know I have been overruled by Charles. Sarah wants a small family wedding and perhaps in the circumstances that may be for the best.’ She shot a look of reproach at her daughter. ‘Quite how it has become known that Sarah spent some time alone at Mr Elworthy’s house I do not understand, for I was promised faithfully that it would not.’

  ‘I am sure that neither Elizabeth or the earl said anything, Mama,’ Sarah assured her. ‘Besides, none of our true friends will make anything of it. John was far too ill for anything improper to have happened. Some spiteful people may count the months until I have a child, but they will be disappointed.’

  ‘Sarah!’ Mrs Hunter was horrified. ‘Young girls should not even know about these things. I am sure I did not until the day of my wedding.’

  ‘Sarah is not a child,’ Lady Tate told her soothingly. ‘I believe that it is better for a gel to understand these things rather than marry in ignorance, as I did. Had I known what to expect, I might never have married Tate, for he was a coarse brute and I suffered in the marriage bed.’

  ‘Hester!’ Mrs Hunter looked affronted at this plain speaking. ‘Well, I suppose I could not expect Sarah to be entirely ignorant—but it is vulgar to speak of these things. I do not know what the world is coming to these days.’

  ‘We should be leaving, Mama,’ Sarah reminded her. ‘John is taking us to the theatre this evening.’

  ‘I had not forgotten,’ Mrs Hunter said with a little frown. She stood up and pulled on her gloves. ‘You will come down for the wedding, Hester? And you, Tilda? I shall need the support of my friends for my nerves are in a shocking state and I am not certain how many guests we shall have.’

  ‘I am sure that everyone will want to be there,’ Tilda said, though she knew that there was some quite unpleasant gossip circulating. ‘All those who truly know and love Sarah are certain to want to see her married.’

  ‘Well, I hope I shall not be disappointed.’

  Sarah said goodbye to their friends and left the house with her mama. Their own house was only a few streets away and they had chosen to walk, as it was a pleasant day. They passed two gentlemen, who lifted their hats and murmured a polite greeting, but two ladies that Sarah knew only slightly crossed to the other side of the road before they could come up with them. From the expression on Mrs Hunter’s face, it was clear that she thought they had been cut, though to her credit she said nothing of it.

  As they entered the house, Sarah saw a letter addressed to her lying on a silver salver on the hall table. She picked it up and took it upstairs to read later.

  ‘I shall rest for an hour,’ Mrs Hunter told her, her expression making it clear that she was still a little out of sorts with her daughter. ‘If I were you, I should do the same, Sarah.’

  ‘Yes, Mama,’ Sarah replied, though she had little intention of it. She had that day received some parcels from her dressmaker and other shops she had patronised, and she wanted to examine her purchases. She would try on the new gowns that had been delivered, though any slight alterations could be done when they got home.

  She laid the sealed letter on her dressing table and began to look through the packages. Besides a yellow silk evening gown and a striped pelisse, there were items of pretty lingerie, silk stockings, some dancing slippers and two new bonnets. She spent some time happily examining her purchases.

  It was almost an hour later that she opened her letter.

  Reading the few brief lines penned there, Sarah gasped. Oh, how could anyone be so spiteful? She crumpled the paper in her hands and tossed it on to the bed in disgust. Then, her hands trembling with anger, she smoothed the paper out and read the message again.

  John Elworthy murdered his wife. If you marry him, he will be the cause of your death. Draw back now while you still can. A well wisher.

  ‘Oh, no, how wicked!’ she spoke the words aloud. A sick feeling was churning in her stomach. She had never expected to receive such a letter. Who would send such a thing to her? It was spiteful and cruel and it made her want to weep for frustration. If the writer had had the courage to speak to her in person, she would have known how to answer, but this horrid letter could not be rebuffed. Its poison would simply lie there, insidious and damaging because it could not be denied in any meaningful way.

  She stared at it for some minutes, feeling an icy chill at the nape of her neck, because despite herself she could not help feeling uneasy. Was the letter a warning or a threat? Was the writer saying that she should be wary of John or of something else? For a moment Sarah wondered if John had done something that might have caused his wife to take her own life. If Andrea had guessed that he did not love her, she might have been so miserable that she could no longer bear to live. And yet, knowing John as she did, Sarah could not believe that he would have been so cruel as to let his wife feel unloved. He would have been kind and generous, as he always was…and that meant that there was another reason for her unhappiness.

  Sarah put the letter away. Had she not been feeling the strain between herself and her mama, she might have taken the letter to her at once. However, she knew that Mrs Hunter would use it to prove that she had been right all along. She would try to persuade Sarah to change her mind about the wedding.

  So what ought she to do? She could certainly not show the letter to John, for he would be distressed by it and perhaps feel guilty that Sarah should have been subjected to such spite. Perhaps she ought to throw it away—and yet it might serve as proof one day. Someone was clearly determined to cause trouble for John. Only an enemy would write such a terrible letter to John’s intended wife.

  Who could hate him so much and why? Sarah pondered the question, but could come up with no solutions. John had always seemed to her to be the perfect gentleman, kind, thoughtful and generous. She would not have thought that he had enemies—although he had taken part in all that unpleasant business with Sir Courtney Welch, when that wicked man had plotted to kidnap Arabella for the sake of her fortune. But it was Captain Hernshaw who had actually shot Sir Courtney. If someone wanted revenge for his death, they could equally have centred their attentions on the captain or even Charles, who had masterminded the plan to outwit him.

  It was no use. She had no idea who could be spreading these wicked lies, but she knew that someone wished to harm John. For the moment she had no idea why, but there was some mystery here. She had first sensed it at the hou
se, when John lay ill, but she had been too concerned for him to give it much thought. But now, because she refused to believe that John had killed Andrea, she realised that there must be some other solution to the mystery—a mystery that would haunt John until it was solved.

  John had not yet told her anything about his first marriage, but she believed that he would when he was ready. She decided that she would wait before asking questions. She loved John and she trusted him. Whoever had sent her that wicked letter hated him, but he had failed in his purpose, for she would not draw back from her wedding. Indeed, she could not wait to leave for the country, thus bringing the day closer when she would be John’s wife.

  John presented Sarah with a small posy of pink roses to match her gown that evening, and he also had another surprise for her.

  ‘I hope that you will like this, Sarah,’ he said, slipping a beautiful ruby-and-diamond ring on to the third finger of her left hand. ‘I have made arrangements for the family jewels to be brought out of the bank. We shall choose those you wish to have altered to your taste, and the others may return to the vault. What would you most wish to have as your wedding gift—diamonds or pearls?’

  ‘I have very simple tastes in jewellery,’ Sarah said and leaned forward to kiss his cheek shyly. She loved him so much, but they were still getting used to the idea of their engagement. ‘Pearls would be lovely, if you approve?’

  John drew her gently towards him, kissing her softly on the lips. His kiss was tender and sweet, making her pulse race with excitement as she responded to him with all her heart.

  ‘Do you not know that I would approve of anything you chose, dearest Sarah?’

  ‘Oh, John…’ Sarah’s eyes misted with tears of joy. She had longed for this moment, almost giving up all hope at one time, but now she thrilled to his nearness and the promise of happiness to come. ‘You are too good to me.’