Seductive Lies

by Colleen Connally

  Out of the whole bloody mess, she was the victim and would remain so. What the hell was he thinking? The truth… he wasn’t thinking. He wanted her in his life. He wanted her and took her as his mistress. Why… why could she not accept the role…

  Because… because her expectations had been to become his wife. He had done nothing to discourage the thought. If he had been a gentleman, he would have rescued her without taking her innocence.

  It had been his intention. He thought he needed only to know that she hadn’t betrayed him. It would be enough to know she was safe… but his good intentions dissipated the moment he saw her.

  Now, she had been trapped by the rules of men; he, trapped by his station in life.

  A knock on the door distracted his contemplations. He made no movement. He had instructed Jenkins he did not want to be disturbed. He wanted only to be left alone.

  He had come back to London to pick up the pieces of his disastrous marriage. Once more, Harriet had been correct in her assumption. He had failed not only her, but his wife. A woman in Sophia’s position expected that her husband would have mistresses, but he had not been discreet. Sophia deserved his respect. She carried his child.

  “Arthur, did you not hear me come in? Sophia sent for me. She said you had returned.”

  Arthur looked up. Anger raged up in his head.

  “It would be best if you leave, James.”

  “Don’t be an ass, Arthur.” Carlisle opened the door wider. “Bloody hell, why are you in the dark?”

  Arthur didn’t answer, but rose and rounded the desk. Carlisle didn’t see it coming, looking to see where he could light a lamp. He turned, only to be decked by Arthur’s right fist. Falling back against the floor, Carlisle pushed back on one arm. With the other, he held his eye.

  Arthur stood over his friend. “You’re a damn bastard, James. A damn bastard.”

  * * * *

  Harriet tucked the last of her clothes into the trunk. Looking up, she glanced around the room. A fortnight had passed since that dreadful day. She steadfastly refused to see Arthur. She had heard his rants outside her door and throughout the house, but he held to her wishes. Finally, he had withdrawn back to London with clear instructions on her care.

  She had no doubt that he thought time would bridge the void that divided them. Never could she ever imagine her Arthur different than what he presented himself: arrogant, confident, proud and… selfish. He would reason that their love would overcome any moral objections before Harriet. She could well see him reason to himself that it was not his fault. Circumstances forced his hand and he took what he wanted—consequences be damned!

  He would not have to face the stigma attached to being a fallen woman. No, it was expected, she supposed, of a man in his position to have a mistress. Society would not shun him as they would her and their child. In his arrogance, he assumed she would accept her fate.

  Her heart sank. He was correct in his assumption that if she stayed, she could not resist him for long. She had to leave before he returned. For no matter that she understood she had no choice, she could never do so if he was here. He was her weakness.

  “I believe all is set, Miss Harriet,” Sadie said. She walked into the bed chamber beside Toby and pointed to the trunk. “Take it down and load it into the carriage.”

  Harriet studied Sadie for a moment. Her maid had dressed for travel herself, wearing her coat, gloves, and bonnet.

  “Oh, Sadie, you cannot come. I have nothing. I could never pay you,” Harriet said with all the composure she could gather.

  “Miss Harriet, you’re not leaving me here with him. Lord Daneford’s going to be in a temper, I tell you. He’ll throw me out. In that he will, after all I have done the last few days to help you depart. I best stay with you, at least for the time being,” Sadie said.

  “I will write Arthur and ask him not to take my actions out on you.” Harriet reached over and squeezed her maid’s hand. “You have done an excellent job caring for me. I wish only I could write you a reference myself, but I fear it would do you more harm than good. But I cannot take you. I have not the room. The hackney I hired is not for long, only until I can catch the coach in Farnham.”

  Harriet dared not tell her maid she feared she hadn’t enough money for herself. She prayed only the solicitor held an answer for her on her inheritance. Arthur had to be wrong she had nothing. He had to be misleading her.

  To start her new life, she hadn’t much, only the money she had garnered from the jewelry she had Smithson sell… all she owned, including the cameo of her grandmother… except the ring Arthur had given her. She had left it in his room on the dresser. No note… only the ring.

  “I fear the hackney you hired was canceled,” Sadie said in a hesitant voice. “Please do not be angry with me. I have not betrayed you. I would not do so. It is not his lordship…”

  “What have you done, Sadie?” Harriet interrupted.

  “It is Mr. Carlisle. He is downstairs, Miss Harriet…”

  Harriet did not wait for the foolish girl to finish her thought. She rushed passed her maid and down the stairs. To her dismay, she found her maid had not lied. The man stood at the foot of the stairs.

  “Mr. Carlisle, pray forgive me. I’m not prepared to entertain a visitor and fear I have not the time.” Harriet stopped as he looked up at her and gasped. She could not contain her shock at his appearance. His face—his eye to be exact—appeared quite swollen and discolored.

  "Do not be alarmed. It looks worse than it feels," Carlisle said.

  "Arthur?" Harriet uttered under her breath.

  Nodding his head, he continued, "It seems we had a difference of opinions. Although I hold that the truth needed to be addressed, I find myself offering my apologies for the unfortunate events that have occurred and hold myself responsible."

  "It's of little matter, Mr. Carlisle. You were correct and I was wrong. One does not need to apologize for the truth."

  "I fear that I must disagree with you once more," he said and motioned toward the drawing room. "I feel I need to explain myself. Please take a moment and hear me out. I believe I can help you in the circumstances you now find yourself."

  "I doubt..."

  "A moment only, Miss Burke. Please."

  Harriet hesitated a moment, and then obliged the man once more. She took a seat on the nearest chair. "You have my attention, Mr. Carlisle, but please make it brief. I am preparing to depart."

  He did not sit, but walked to the window. He stared out into the garden briefly before turning his attention back to her. "That is what I wanted to talk with you about. After my confrontation with Arthur, I discovered that I have been under the wrong impression. I took it upon myself to further investigate his side of the story. To my shame, I have found that my family has done you a grave disservice… I have done you a grave disservice.

  “Although I'm certain you understand the animosity that my uncle felt toward your father, it does not excuse the unfathomable deceit he participated in with the late Lord Daneford."

  "You have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Carlisle. It seems you know more about my situation than I do myself at this point, for I do not know of what you speak. You sound as though you acknowledge there has been a conspiracy."

  "I fear that is the case. I confronted my uncle. He confessed there was an agreement between Arthur's grandfather and himself on the marriage between Arthur and Sophia. The only obstacle to this agreement was you. It seems that, too, was overcome. Arthur’s grandfather procured Arthur's promise that he would settle before his death…to marry Sophia, leaving you in the predicament you find yourself in at the moment when Arthur discovered the treachery.

  “It does not ease my conscience that although I was not in on the conspiracy, I was used to facilitate it. I fear I was manipulated. Easily enough done, given my intense feeling against your father. Instead of being objective, I reacted out of emotion. It was unforgivable.”

  Harriet pressed her lips together tightly, trying
desperately to contain her emotions. It did nothing to change her situation. Arthur was married. There was nothing that could undo the fact. She drew in a deep breath. "I appreciate the effort you have made to apologize, but as you understand, there is little to be done to rectify the situation. Arthur is married to your cousin. You have no concerns. I will not interfere between them. What is done is done. I am leaving."

  "It is why I am here. I realize that you are attempting to go out on your own. Relieve my conscience and let me help you."

  "It is not necessary, Mr. Carlisle. I have already laid out my plans."

  "Do you mind if I ask you what they are?"

  "I do not believe it is yours to..."

  "You forget, Miss Burke, that I am quite adept at finding out information. I took it upon myself to look into your situation to the fullest of my ability. You hired a carriage to take you down to Farnham. From there, I would assume you would take a stage down to Exeter. You are going home. Are you not?"

  Her chest tightened upon his words. "Not that it is your concern, but why would I not?"

  "You do understand that to have been successful in arranging Arthur and Sophia's marriage, your family's silence would have been bought. There would be no other explanation. Your engagement to Arthur was announced. It would not have done to disgrace the Daneford's good name...but a name already associated with a scandal?

  "Over the last week, I have dedicated my attention to your affairs. Your inheritance had a mortality clause within it. I assume due to your mother's behavior. If I was a betting man, I would wager the whole of the rumor associated with your elopement served two purposes. Your uncle saw that your father's will was vacated. His estate reverted back into his hands, leaving you penniless, and leaving Arthur the opportunity to save his honor when the engagement was broken."

  A long pregnant silence hung in the air. Harriet shuddered at the details he rattled off with confidence. Her fears were confirmed. She gripped tightly to the arm of the chair, hoping that her shaking hands were not noticeable. Trying desperately to compose herself, she breathed in deeply. She needed to think. She could feel his eyes boring into her. Gathering up all the resolve within her, she held her head high.

  “I find myself once more indebted to you for your information. It seems a journey home will serve no purpose, for I feel you are telling me they will turn from me, as I’m a tainted woman. They have nothing more to steal from me. At least I will not humiliate myself,” she said, steadying her voice. “I will have to find a solicitor to seek a legal recourse against my family if your words are true…”

  “Miss Burke, I do not want to be harsh with my words, but I do not feel that sympathy will be helpful at this point. The truth may be severe, but it needs to be addressed. You have limited options and legal recourse will not serve you in this situation.

  “The easiest for you is to stay in your current situation,” Carlisle said. He paused a moment and studied her. “But I do not think you would have gone through all the trouble of the last week if your intention was to stay.”

  “How do you know what I have done?” Harriet asked indignantly. She rose. “I believe this conversation is over. I thank you once more for pointing out my life’s failure. You can sleep tonight knowing that my life is in complete shambles. You have done your duty. Now please leave.”

  “Sit down. You have not listened to me. I told you I’m here to help you,” he answered her in a tone not to be questioned. “Sit.”

  Slowly, she sat back down. Her eyes glared at him. “You have my attention, Mr. Carlisle. What do you think you can do for me that you have not already done?”

  “I deserved that,” he responded. He walked over and took a seat across from her. “I know you will find it difficult to understand that my intentions are only to rectify this situation in the best possible manner. After my confrontation with my former best friend, I made an assumption from his words that you might be with child.”

  Harriet felt her face flame. She turned her head away so he could not see her eyes welling with tears.

  “Miss Burke, I do not think less of you. I believe you have endured a great injustice which I played a part. I want only to know whether this is what you want to do… leave. You have to know that Arthur will not let you go easily. This journey you have planned, I would assume he would know you would fail and be prepared to sweep in to save you. Make no mistake, he has his eye upon you at all times.

  “But if you want to leave this life behind and start anew, I will help you. Is that what you truly want… to leave Arthur forever?”

  “Do I want to leave Arthur…?” she uttered with a low voice. “No, Mr. Carlisle, I don’t want to leave, but I have to for the child… for myself. I’m angry. I’m hurt, but I do not have time for self-pity. I have to think of my child.”

  “It is what I thought. Then know I have a plan.”

  * * * *

  Arthur awoke in the dead of night to a fearful shriek, a shriek that had become all too familiar. The cry faded into the stillness of the night, but he realized the quiet would not last. He rose from his bed.

  The drawn curtain allowed the full moon to light the solemn room. The silver circle shone down over a façade of calm. He knew the calm would not last. It began again—the sharp, shrill cry.

  Footsteps raced down the hall. He reached for his dressing robe. The cry died, but wailing ensued. There would be no more sleep this night.

  Arthur walked out of his chamber and crossed the hall. The door was open and light shone out of the chamber, shadowing the occupants while they moved around the bed. Immediately upon his entrance, the cry renewed.

  “M’lord,” a voice welcomed him. “Lady Sophia has been calling for you.”

  “I am here.”

  Arthur paid little attention to the nurse. He walked around the other side of the large bed. The curtains had been drawn to give Lady Sophia’s caregivers access to her being. Her maid sat in an easy chair next to the bed. She stood at his appearance.

  “She is restless, m’lord,” she said. “I have tried to soothe her, but…”

  “I know, Mrs. McKenna,” he addressed her in a tired voice. “I will stay. Do not bother Lady Torridge.”

  “Yes, m’lord.” She curtsied.

  Arthur sat down in the chair. Sophia lay on the bed with her eyes closed. He doubted she was asleep. She had waited for him. Lying so still with her hair loose, she laid motionless, pale…colorless against the sheets. Her eyes flickered, and then opened wide.

  “Arthur, Arthur,” Sophia called.

  He reached over and grasped her hand. “I’m here, my dear. Sleep. You need to sleep.”

  “I can’t. I have to get up. The baby’s crying. Don’t you hear him?”

  “Sophia.” He paused, swallowing hard. He had no desire to once more relive the last few months. “Sleep. We will talk in the morning. I won’t leave your side.”

  “I know. You came back to me,” she said. Her voice riddled with anxiety. “You left her. Bessie said you would never, but you did. You love me.”

  “Yes, my dear,” he agreed. “You have nothing to be worried about except getting better. Sophia, you need to rest. It does no good to hold to the past.”

  “But you were angry with me,” she whispered. Her eyes became wild. Glancing about the chamber, she sat up. Her chest heaved heavily; she tightened her grip. “Oh, Arthur, I meant no harm to you. Forgive me. Forgive me.”

  “Sophia, calm yourself. I have told you it is in the past. We need to look to the future. You want to get better. Christmas is upon us. Your parents are here. Remember last year…”

  Sophia heard none of his words. She turned to him. Flinging her arms around his neck, she clung to him. “It is not my fault. Do not be angry with me. Father said that woman was nothing more than a hussy. A hussy, he said. It is her fault.”

  Arthur said nothing. He had meant his words. It would serve no purpose to rehash what was done. Harriet was gone from his life. The pressing problem
lay in the bed. His wife.

  He gently pried Sophia’s arms from his neck. She fell back on her pillow, weeping into her hands. She began rambling incoherently, calling again for her baby. There would be no comfort. The baby she called for lay in her family cemetery at Pleasant Green.

  The woman before him was a shell of her former self. The beautiful, vibrant woman he had married transformed before his eyes into a stranger. He would not fault anyone other than himself. He had failed Sophia as he had Harriet.

  After Harriet’s departure, Arthur returned to live under the same roof as Sophia, but it was there, a barrier between husband and wife. Sophia wanted more than Arthur could give.

  Sophia had changed even then, having become excessively moody and ill-natured, more so than could be blamed upon her condition. Agitated and anxious, her trembling hands, her normal immaculate appearance deteriorating, caused Arthur concern. She began to spend her days in her nightgown, her hair undone, refusing any social events.

  Over Sophia’s objections, Arthur called for her mother. For reasons beyond his comprehension, Sophia had formed a dependent bond with Bessie. When Lady Torridge insisted Sophia return with her back to Pleasant Green, Arthur made no objections.

  Attempting to calm Sophia’s nerves, he allowed Bessie to accompany them. It was there Sophia lost the baby. She fell down the stairs. A devastating loss. A male child.

  Sophia had no memory of the fall or losing the baby. One moment, she would seem coherent; the next, inconsolable. She had slowly descended into a world of her own over the last two months. Nothing seemed to bring her out of her state, except his presence and her need for that damn laudanum.

  Suddenly she looked up over her hands and started to laugh, hysterically. Her eyes… the pupils were so large that it seemed the whole of her eyes.

  “It was her fault! She needs to pay!” Sophia sprang upward. “Father! I need Father. He will see to it that she pays for her crime!”

  “Calm yourself, Sophia,” Arthur said.