by Lady Vixen
She hadn't meant to tell anyone, but Letitia's gentle probing about Robert loosened her tongue and the story came tumbling out. All of it.
Letitia, the faded blue eyes round with astonishment and dismay, listened in silence, her only comment when Nicole halted, "Oh my! How dreadful!"
"Yes, it is. It's been rather beastly too, knowing that my mother was such a depraved creature." Her face averted, Nicole said in a choked voice, "I've tried to make excuses for her, tried to remember her as I thought she was, but I just can't! All I can think of is that not only was Robert her lover, but Christopher as well!" Her eyes were anguished as she looked into Letitia's compassionate features and cried, "How could she! How could Robert share her with Christopher! Oh, I know it was to distract my father, but you would have thought if Robert were in love with her, he wouldn't have wanted to share her that way."
Letitia looked away and said very carefully, "Perhaps Robert didn't know."
Nicole stared at her. Finally she asked in a dull tone, "You mean, mother also betrayed Robert? That he thought those meetings were innocuous, arranged solely for the look of the thing?"
"Yes, my dear, I'm afraid that is precisely what I mean." Letitia clasped Nicole's hand. "My dear, listen to me! Your mother was like a spoiled child. I knew her from a babe, and she absolutely had to have the adoration of any man, young or old, whom she met. I don't believe she ever really loved anyone, but that didn't make her entirely wicked! Oh, dear, what I am trying to say is that she wasn't malicious, she just did these things." Sadly she continued, "Christopher was so obviously suffering from a terrible case of calf love that I think it was beyond her to resist seducing him! She and Robert probably meant to use him as a blind, but her vanity drove her to make the lies she told her husband reality."
"Mrs. Eggleston!" Nicole burst out, so shocked she had neglected her new title. "How can you say that! Are you excusing what they meant to do?"
Flustered, Letitia twisted her hands together, "Oh, no! What I am trying to say, is that your mother was selfish and thoughtless and that she used people, but in the way that a child uses people. She didn't think what she was doing to Christopher. She and Robert needed a scapegoat and he was available. She saw things only as they affected her! Can you understand what I mean?"
Frowning, Nicole gazed off into the distance. "I think so. But it doesn't lessen what she did."
"Oh, no, I never meant it did! I was only trying to explain how Annabelle would have looked at things. It probably never even occurred to her that she was being unfair to your father by being unfaithful, or that she was betraying Robert by taking Christopher as her lover. She simply never thought."
"And Robert?" Nicole inquired tiredly.
"Oh, my!" Letitia murmured unhappily. "I don't wish to be brutal, my dear, but Robert would never have done for you. He was jealous and spiteful as a child, and I must admit that I never liked him. From what you have told me, I blame him for what happened. It was probably his idea to use Christopher, and certainly it was his doing that sent Christopher from England. And I cannot say in this case that it was something done without a lot of thinking and planning. Robert meant for Christopher to die, and I'm certain he wanted Christopher disgraced more than—" she broke off suddenly, as though she had gone too far.
Nicole smiled sadly. "But we can hardly say this to your husband."
"Oh my, no! Robert has caused Simon enough grief as it is. It is over with and finished; there is nothing any of us can do to change it. All we can do is to forget it and go forward." Her eyes misty with tears, she leaned forward and said earnestly, "My dear, do not let it destroy you! Put it from your mind and forget it."
Nicole gave her that sad smile. "I think I will now that I have talked to you. I feel more at ease about it, less confused and angry. Perhaps in time I shall view it more objectively."
"Yes, that's it, my love! Do try!" Lady Saxon urged her affectionately.
Nicole discovered that she had spoken the truth; it was as if the conversation with Lady Saxon had lessened the hurt.
But if Nicole's pain had been lessened by that conversation, Lady Saxon was in agony. The sight of Robert Saxon filled her with wrath, and without even being aware of it, she glowered at him every time he even looked at Nicole. She was tormented by what she learned, and could not bear the thought of the horrors Robert had inflicted on those she loved.
By the night after her conversation with Nicole Lady Saxon's distress was so acute that even sleep would not come to her. It suddenly seemed clear to her that she must do something to confront Robert with her knowledge, but she had no idea what she could do that would not somehow involve Simon.
She shifted miserably in her bed, trying not to disturb her sleeping husband. She almost jumped out of bed when his voice pierced the darkness. "Letty! What is it? You've been fidgeting for hours!"
"It's nothing, Simon. I've had the most dreadful headache all night and cannot sleep. I had hoped I would not disturb you." Her voice quavered slightly.
Simon heard that quaver and reached out to enfold her in his arms. "What is it, my dear, what is distressing you?"
Determined to keep the truth from him, she made some light comment, but Simon would have none of it. With paralyzing intuitiveness, he asked, "Is it Robert? I noticed that you have been somewhat strained in his company since yesterday."
Letitia went rigid, and instantly aware of it, Simon said sharply, "Tell me what he has done! And, Letty, don't fob me off with some feeble excuse about a headache! I know you too well and it is obvious that Robert has done something to upset you. Now tell me what it is and no nonsense."
For a moment Letitia still hesitated, but then Simon kissed her gently on the cheek and said in a pleading tone, "Please, love, tell me."
What could she do except tell him after that?
When she finished Simon said nothing for several seconds, and Letitia's heart ached for him. He set her from him gently with a heavy sigh. "I feared all along that it was something like that," he said in a sad tone. "I suspected it, but I didn't want to believe it. Why? Why, Letty, is Robert this way? I have always tried to treat him fairly, and God knows I have always loved him and protected him. To treat a boy that way! His one nephew! To sell him into certain death!" Agonized, he burst out, "I tell you, Letty, I don't think I can bear the sight of him anymore. This time I cannot forgive him."
"Simon, Simon. Do not distress yourself. Please try to sleep. Remember it happened so long ago."
Absently he rearranged the tangled bed clothes, his movements slow and painful, and Letitia was filled with pity for him. Now it was she who cradled him, her arms enfolding him, her lips pressing tenderly against his temple. "Simon, don't let it eat at you. Robert is what he is and you cannot blame yourself. Know in your heart that you have done the best you could, and put the rest aside. He is a man full grown, and he was a man full grown when he and Annabelle planned their charade and when he sold Christopher to that press-gang. It is not your fault; you taught him what you could, and if he chose not to learn, there is nothing you can do about it, Put it from you," she pleaded.
"I shall try, Letty. I shall try. But I doubt I can be as forgiving as you—or as Christopher appears to be."
Letitia stirred uneasily. "I don't think Christopher has forgiven him, Simon. Sometimes I think he is merely waiting like a tiger does for his prey to make a mistake."
In London, Christopher did resemble a tiger—a caged tiger. Waiting was not easy for him, and the thought that Jennings-Smythe could bring about disaster anytime he cared to open his mouth, did nothing to improve his temper.
Anticipating his departure, Christopher had already let it be known that he was leaving London and traveling to Brighton. He left his plans deliberately vague, alluding carelessly to travels on the continent.
He had paid his debts, informed his landlord of his date of departure, and completed his packing. The memorandum itself was in a thin leather pouch strapped around Christopher's waist. He w
as ready.
The days of September had lagged. He had still not come to any firm decision concerning what he would tell his grandfather, and it knifed him with increasing and painful frequency. He was not ashamed of what he had done, but would Simon, if he knew, understand? More than ever Christopher was aware of his invidious position, but his worst moment came on the morning of the twenty-eighth of September.
He had risen late, after having spent the previous evening drinking and whoring with Captain Buckley and Lieutenant Kettlescope as a sort of farewell to London. His head was aching, and his mouth tasted like the floor of a stable. He had just finished his fourth cup of very strong coffee when Higgins entered and thrust the London Times under his nose. "They've burned Washington!"
With a feeling of incredulity, Christopher read the bold black headlines, Washington Burned! His face white, he swiftly devoured the article.
Captain Harry Smith had just returned from America in a phenomenally short amount of time—twenty-one days—and with him came the dispatches reporting the capture and burning of Washington. During the week of August 19, the British had fought back the American lines and driven them from the capital city. British troops had then poured into the city, looting and sacking at will. Major General Robert Ross had personally ordered the destruction of the White House, the Capitol, the Treasury, the War Office, and the National Archives.
With black fury in his heart, Christopher continued to read of the terrible havoc wreaked on the American capital by the invading British troops, and any remorse he might have felt died.
Sick with impotent fury, Christopher slammed the paper on the table, snarling, "By God, they'll regret this infamous act!" With barely leashed violence he promised softly, "Let them come to New Orleans—we'll teach them that no one attacks our capital with impunity!"
Christopher and Higgins left London early the next morning and arrived at Brighton shortly after lunch. Simon was delighted to see his grandson and made no attempt to hide it.
"By heavens, boy, but it is good to see you!" he thundered as Christopher entered the library where Simon had been sitting, idly leafing through the latest racing magazines.
"The same to you, sir! I can see that the married life must be most agreeable. You look like a happy, contented man and Lady Saxon is positively blooming!"
Simon looked inordinately pleased. "She is, isn't she?" he replied with simple pleasure. "We did enjoy ourselves in Beddington's Corner. We've decided to go back there the first of October. Gina can show Nicole the sights here in town if the chit don't want to bury herself in the country this early in the year."
Christopher smiled noncommittally and wondered if he should take advantage of this unexpected private moment to tell his grandfather that tomorrow night he would be leaving. He sought vainly for the words, but they stuck firmly in his throat. He could not, within moments of arriving, spring it on the older man that he was leaving for an indefinite period of time. Deliberately he pushed the distasteful task from him and instead sat back and savored those precious minutes alone with his grandfather.
Simon, too, had been struggling for words—but of a far different nature. He longed to tell Christopher that he knew the full story of what had happened all those years before, but somehow he couldn't quite make himself bring the subject up. Christopher had obviously not wanted him to know, and Simon was quite sure his grandson would not be pleased that the sordid story had come to him through the women of the family. For a second Simon frowned, suddenly realizing how the past could very well be an insurmountable obstacle between
Nicole and Christopher, and his heart hardened further against his son. Not only had Robert nearly been the death of Christopher, but it appeared that even now his wickedness could destroy any hope that Christopher and Nicole had of happiness. Ah, damn! Why did it have to be that way, he thought with sad vexation.
"Something wrong, sir?" Christopher asked, his eyes watchful on Simon's face.
"Eh?" Simon grunted, hastily pulling himself together. "No, I was just lost in a daydream." Smiling with apparent sheepishness, he added, "I find myself going off at the oddest times. Must be that my age is catching up with me. Next year, I shall probably be absolutely senile!"
"Hardly!" Christopher snorted, not entirely satisfied with Simon's excuse, but he let it be. If it were something important, he would discover it soon enough.
Nicole hadn't known Christopher had arrived until she joined the guests Regina had invited for tea. Seeing him unexpectedly, she felt her heart lurch, but she forced herself to smile politely when he approached.
"Well, brat," Christopher taunted lightly, his assessing gaze taking in the charming gown she wore and the brilliance of her eyes. "You're looking very beautiful. Brighton must agree with you."
With a dazzling smile she said sweetly, "Brighton? Oh, I put it down to being away from you!"
His eyes darkened and for one wary second she thought he would retaliate. Instead he shrugged his powerful shoulders. "Still the vixen's tongue, Nick," he commented dryly. Without further conversation he sauntered away.
Edward came strolling up just then, and Nicole lost sight of Christopher as she tried politely to ignore her cousin.
***
Edward Markham was becoming truly desperate, and later pacing his room, he reviewed his staggering debts and again came to the realization that he was totally without financial resources. As he pondered his situation again and again, only one thing became clear—he must marry an heiress. And the one he wished to marry had spurned his suit. "Damn, Nicole," he hissed. He had been so sure before that incident at the pavilion that winning Nicole's hand would be an easy trick, but now it was quite obvious that he had misjudged her.
He cursed Nicole again, but more he cursed the folly that had led him to that ill-fated card game on the previous night. He had been certain that luck was with him at last, and that he would be able to recoup enough money to keep the duns at bay. Instead when he rose from the gaming table in the early hours of the morning he was several thousand pounds in debt.
It was impossible to think of reneging. He would be ruined if he did not pay that debt—within the week.
It had actually occurred to him to murder Nicole, so great was his resentment of her, but as he assessed his situation he realized that it would be easier to marry her —to force her to marry him.
Once his decision was made, he set about perfecting a hasty plan. The hiring of a coach and four would take the last of his ready money, but that he was willing to risk, considering the fortune at stake.
How to get Nicole into the carriage? He could hardly kidnap her off the street in broad daylight! She wouldn't meet him anywhere feasible, but what about meeting someone else? But whom? And why a secret meeting? Desperately he racked his brains, but as the hours passed he came to no solution. Nicole would not meet just anyone, and certainly even fewer people in clandestine circumstances. Yet he had to have her in some private place. He could think of dozens of places that would suit his purposes, but the prickly question remained— how the hell to get Nicole there, and alone.
Eventually he hit upon a rather haphazard scheme. Nicole, he knew, was in the habit of walking every afternoon in the park, usually with one of the maids from Lord Saxon's establishment accompanying her. All he would have to do was meet Nicole as she started home, race up to her with the frantic message that Lord Saxon had suffered a fatal stroke, and then before she had time to think, whisk her around to his waiting coach—-without the attendant maid. By the time Nicole questioned his ability to have at his disposal a coach and four and realized that they were not traveling toward Kings Road, it would be too late. He was rather pleased with his final strategy. The only real flaw he could see was the uncertainty of Nicole being alone with the mail. He would have to leave it to chance—that and the unthinkable prospect that for some unknown reason Nicole would not take her usual walk tomorrow afternoon in Brighton Park. But he knew she would. Fate could not continue to be so unki
nd to him.
CHAPTER 33
Christopher faced his last day in England with mingled excitement and dread. Most of all he dreaded having to tell Simon that he was leaving, and the thought of that farewell was unbearable. He had no idea how he would explain that sometime between the hours of dark and midnight he would be sailing back to America.
Already, the older man was expounding on the delightful and merry Christmas they would have this year at Beddington's Corner. He had even made sly hints that perhaps the town house in London could be totally turned over to Christopher since he and Letitia preferred the quiet of Beddington's Corner.
Morosely Christopher wandered about the Brighton house. Once he laughed out loud at himself. To think that he, just like an erring schoolboy, dreaded the coming, and come it must, interview with his grandfather. England, he thought derisively, had certainly changed him. He felt that he was overcivilized—and somehow less of a man. Why else this occasional conscience that pricked him and this dislike of leaving, this actual dismay at telling his grandfather good-bye? As for Nicole...
Nicole at the moment was reading in the library, but as was common recently, anytime she was left alone her thoughts were on Christopher. With a sigh she closed her book. What was the use of thinking of him? Of torturing herself over someone she couldn't change?
Suddenly she could not bear to be alone and strode determinedly toward the door. She had almost reached it when the door swung open, just missing her.
"My God, Nicole, you might have given me some warning that you were in here! I could have hurt you badly when I opened the door," Christopher snapped exasperatedly as he halted his progress into the room.