by Mary Balogh
“Good morning, ma’am,” he said. “I hope you slept well.”
“When you are my age, Brandon,” she said, “you are happy if you can say you slept.”
“Ah,” he said, realizing that the bun was sticky and he had forgotten to pick up a napkin from the sideboard. He pulled his handkerchief from a pocket. “I hope you slept, then, ma’am.”
She inclined her head regally.
Everyone else seemed to be part of a group, though there were still a few people missing. Lady Estelle Lamarr and her brother, for example. Justin wondered if she was pouring her complaints into her brother’s ear. He wondered if he would be facing pistols at dawn tomorrow.
Cousin Miriam Rogers-Hall, Aunt Augusta’s married daughter, had apparently skidded on the wet grass on the way back from the lake and had been saved from falling by two of the men, neither of whom was her husband. She was telling the story rather loudly to her group.
“It is quite a while,” she was saying, “since I had two handsome men— Viscount Watley and Mr. Ernest Sharpe— with an arm about my waist and a hand clasping each of mine.”
“My ears are still ringing from the shriek you let out, Mrs. Rogers-Hall,” Nigel Dickson said, slapping a hand against the side of his face as though to restore his hearing.
Gillian and Megan Chandler, on either side of Maria, each had an arm linked through one of hers. They were strolling about the room with her as she made sure everyone had had enough to eat and drink. It was a promising sight, the three young cousins together, apparently in perfect amity with one another. Maria was looking flushed and very pretty.
“I suppose,” Lady Maple said, setting down her unfinished mug of cider beside Justin’s cup, “you want me to take your sister next spring and fire her off onto the marriage mart as I did her mother. She should take well. She has the looks and the refinement of manner, not to mention the eligibility, which is more than her mother had. It always helps to be Lady Someone. Lady Maria Wiley in her case. Daughter and sister of an Earl of Brandon.”
It had crossed Justin’s mind, especially as he could think of no one else. But he certainly would not want Maria’s great-aunt to take her. His sister would live with him at his town house, as would be both proper and appropriate. He had thought that perhaps Lady Maple would come to stay with them for a few months or at least agree to chaperon Maria to the various social events that would fill her days once the Season began in earnest. He would have to attend many of those events himself too— perish the thought. However, he had seen since her arrival here that Lady Maple was really quite elderly. While she was not infirm, it seemed unlikely she would be up to the demands of chaperoning a young lady through her first Season.
“I do plan to take her to London next spring,” he said. “She will be twenty-one. It is rather late for her to be making her come-out, I suppose, but her mother’s illness and passing have made the delay unavoidable. I do not believe it will matter, however. She is, as you have just remarked, the daughter of an earl. I would be happy if—”
“With her mother it was more difficult, of course,” Lady Maple said, cutting him off. “Even though she was younger and twice, even three times, as beautiful and alluring as Maria is. I had to hire a voice coach to rid her of that appalling accent you can hear now from my nephew and niece and their families. I had to teach her manners and proper etiquette and a thousand and one other things before I could even consider turning her loose upon society, the daughter of a mere cit. Before I took her to her first ton party I had picked out two perfectly eligible young bucks for her to choose between. I had them each to a smallish party in my own home. And both fell head over heels for her. But they were not good enough for her. I suppose she was the cause of your quarrel with your father?”
“I—” Justin was dumbfounded for a moment at the abrupt change of subject. “I do not ever talk of that, ma’am. It is old history.”
“Oh, pshaw!” She made a dismissive gesture with one heavily ringed hand. “I knew it as soon as I heard about the rift. She would have denied it if she had still been on speaking terms with me, of course, just as she always did. It was absolutely not her fault, da-da, da-da, da-da. Just as it was not her fault she and your father got locked accidentally together inside that little anteroom in the middle of her first ball when they were total strangers and were discovered an hour later, after I had raised a hue and cry and everyone was searching for her. Just as it was not her fault that she had become so overwrought at being stuck there alone with a strange gentleman that she had torn the bosom of her gown and pulled half the ringlets out of her hair.”
Justin was very thankful for many years’ practice at confining his feelings to a place deep within and presenting an impassive face to the world. Even so, he wished he could reach out a hand to clamp over her mouth or even just urge her to keep her voice down. Fortunately there was enough buzz of conversation going on around them that it was unlikely anyone had overheard.
Viscount Watley and Lady Estelle Lamarr had just come into the room together and turned toward the sideboard.
“She quarreled with me just after her wedding,” Lady Maple continued. “Told me I was a cruel, heartless woman, or words to that effect, for suggesting that she would descend to paltry trickery to satisfy her ambitions, which is something I never did myself, for all the fact that I landed Maple. I came here for the wedding and I had a good look at your father and took a good look at you— you were just a boy at the time— and at those relatives of yours, and I knew Lilian had done a wicked thing. Never in a million years would your father have married her under normal circumstances. I was not sorry when she told me she never wanted to see me again. I never wanted to see her again. I blamed myself, though, and I was sorry when she quarreled with her brother and sisters too. None of us ever got to see Maria. Until now.”
Justin felt a little as he might if he were trying to chase down a runaway horse on foot. And what was all this? It was appalling. Could any of it be true?
“Until I went to Prospect Hall a couple of weeks ago to fetch her home, I had not seen her either since she was a child,” he said. He kept his voice low, willing Lady Maple to lower her own too. Or to speak of something else. “I am very pleased that she is back home and that—”
Where was Maria? He had lost sight of her. And of her two cousins. Perhaps they had left the room?
“It always consoled me that that child had her father,” Lady Maple said, cutting him off again— and she had not taken the hint to lower her voice. “He was a good and honorable man. And that she had you. You were just a lad when I came here, but you were a polite boy and good-natured, which was more important, and I thought you would probably be kind to a little sister.”
“I adored her from the day she was born, ma’am,” Justin told her. “She almost fit in the palm of my hand.”
Watley and his sister were drawing nearer. One glance at their faces was enough to convince Justin that they had heard every word. And was it his imagination, or had most conversations around him ceased?
“I knew as soon as I heard about the rift between you and your father that my niece must be behind it somehow,” Lady Maple continued, leaning forward in her chair to tap Justin’s hand with her lorgnette. “It was no ordinary quarrel, was it? It did not blow over with the cooling of tempers as most quarrels do. Your father was very proud of you when you were a lad, and you clearly adored him just at a time in your life when many boys begin to rebel. I remember the way you scarcely removed your eyes from him during the marriage ceremony. I thought it was good of him to have you as his best man. No, it could have been no ordinary quarrel, Brandon. Nothing—no one— could have come between you and your father but my niece. I have never doubted it for a moment. If I have one regret in life, it is that I agreed to bring her to London to introduce to the ton.”
“I prefer not to talk about—” Justin began.
He was interrupted by Maria herself, who had stepped up behind his chair without his
noticing. Her cousins were still with her, though she had freed her arms from theirs. What had she heard? But how could she not have heard everything?
“Oh,” she said, her voice soft and tight. “It is not true. You are a wicked, evil woman. It is not true that Mama trapped Papa into marrying her in such a despicable way. It is a lie. He saw her dancing at her very first ball, and he fell in love with her even before they were introduced. He asked her that very evening to marry him, and when she protested that she was not even a lady by birth while he was an earl, he told her that when a man fell in love, nothing else mattered. He would have married her if she had been a scullery maid, he told her. Theirs was a great love story.”
“Oh, my dear child.” Lady Maple reached out with her lorgnette, but Maria pulled her arm out of its reach.
Justin closed his eyes briefly and inhaled slowly.
“You quarreled with Mama,” Maria said, “because you were jealous that she had married an earl while you had been able to snare only a baronet.”
She was still speaking softly, but there was no doubt now that everyone in the room was listening.
“This is neither the time nor the place—” Justin said far too late, getting to his feet.
“And Mama had nothing to do with your quarrel with Papa,” Maria said, rounding on him, her eyes blazing. “It is … despicable even to suggest such a thing. You know why he sent you away and told you never to return. Those jewels you stole were Mama’s, gifts from Papa, costly in themselves but many times more precious to her because they were tokens of his love. You took them and broke both their hearts. I hope you lived well on what you got for them during the years you were away.”
What the devil?
“Well, Aunt Bertha,” Leonard Dickson said in his hearty, booming voice, “you have opened a Pandora’s box right enough. Margaret and I need to go and change for luncheon. We probably all do. Though who will be able to eat anything so soon after those delicious Chelsea buns I do not know. Your cook is doing us proud, Brandon. I daresay my aunt has misremembered the events of that evening when my sister met your papa. It was many years ago, and whose memories can bear up for that long? I know I would rather believe the romantic version Maria heard. And whatever happened between you and your father, Brandon, was your business and is none of mine or anyone else’s. Tempers sometimes flare, as I know all too well from the mill, and people say things they wish afterward they had not said. It’s always best to pretend that indeed they were not said aloud. I am looking forward to seeing the state apartments this afternoon. I am sure they are grand, just as the rest of the house is.”
Everyone began to disperse.
Lady Estelle was approaching with a smile. “Come, Maria,” she said. “Let us go up to that sitting room between our two bedchambers, shall we, and relax until luncheon? I always love looking out upon rain, though it is not as pleasant to be caught out in it. “
Maria allowed her arm to be taken. Within a minute or two Justin was alone in the room with Lady Maple.
“What was your purpose in gathering us all here, Brandon?” she asked. “All are family to either you or Maria or both of you except for those handsome Lamarr twins. Did you intend that we all merely smile at one another and talk nicely and let old quarrels caused by a dead woman fester below the surface as though they had not caused lasting damage? I am sorry Maria overheard me. The feelings of the very young are tender things, and it is only just over a year since she lost her mother. I am sorry other people seem to have overheard me too. I suppose I was speaking too loudly. But if this family gathering is to have any real meaning, and if you ever hope to have a real relationship with your sister, there needs to be some plain speaking, and it might as well be done by me. Did you take those jewels?”
“No.” Justin spoke curtly and frowned down at her.
“I would have been surprised if you had,” she said. “I think your father would have been surprised too. It would have been a silly thing to do and pointless, since I daresay your father kept you in funds and I never heard of your being an expensive young man. There needs to be some plain speaking in this family, Brandon.”
Justin felt rather as though he were in the throes of a nightmare. Disaster had struck— for the second time in one morning— and he had no idea how he was going to face his guests in just an hour or so to eat luncheon. It was altogether possible they did not know how they were going to face him either. Maria would quite possibly refuse to face any of them or even talk with anyone except her particular friend. And thank goodness for Lady Estelle, who had persuaded her to leave the room before she could become quite hysterical.
Beneath all his distress, one revelation thrummed in his head like a heavy drumbeat.
His father had been tricked into marrying Maria’s mother. He had not, after all, been just a foolish middle-aged widower of close to fifty who had been dazzled by the looks and charms of a girl only four years older than his son. Where, Justin wondered, had she hidden the key of that anteroom after locking the door? How had she lured his father there? He did not for one moment doubt that Lady Maple’s version of that story was the true one, though he had heard Maria’s version numerous times from his stepmother while his father had listened and smiled but neither corroborated her story nor contradicted it.
“Give me a hand and help me to my feet, Brandon,” Lady Maple said. “I was up early today. It must be the country air, though it is reputed to make a person sleep longer. I will go to my room and summon my maid—if I can find my way to the west wing and the right room, that is.”
“I shall give myself the pleasure of escorting you there myself,” Justin said, offering his arm after he had helped her up. “This house can be confusing until one gets to know it.”
Estelle settled Maria in a comfortable chair in the sitting room and chafed her hands.
“I believe I missed the first part of what Lady Maple was saying,” she said. “I did understand, though, that she had upset you dreadfully by telling a different story than the one you have always been told of how Lady Brandon, your mother, met your father.”
Estelle had not missed much of it. She and Bertrand had been the last to arrive in the drawing room. After pouring two cups of hot chocolate, she had given her brother his, taken his arm, avoided his look of surprise— they usually went their separate ways after they entered a crowded room— and drawn him in the direction of Lady Maple. The Earl of Brandon was sitting with her, and it had seemed to Estelle that the very best thing she could do was go right up to them and make conversation. It would be far better than tiptoeing around him for the rest of the two weeks here. But she had needed her twin to give her the necessary courage. Poor Bertrand had not even had a chance to take a Chelsea bun.
Hence they had both heard almost everything. So had everyone else. Estelle’s personal discomfort over the Earl of Brandon had been forgotten in the greater disaster that had been unfolding before her.
“She is a wicked, evil woman, and I told her so,” Maria said as Estelle sat down beside her. “She told Brandon that Papa was forced to marry Mama after she trapped him inside a small locked room with her during a ton ball until they were discovered sometime later. By then her dress was torn and her hair was disheveled. It is not true. Papa fell in love with Mama when he saw her dancing with someone else.”
“I daresay,” Estelle said, “Lady Maple misremembers the details of what happened that evening. She is rather an elderly lady.” She did not for a moment believe Lady Maple had misremembered. It was a very distinct story, not the sort of thing one would get confused about in one’s memory. And she had not detected any sign of senility in Maria’s great-aunt.
“She does misremember,” Maria said. “But she is a guest here. I behaved badly, did I not? Melanie would scold me if she were here now. ‘A lady owes unfailing courtesy to her guests, even when she has not personally invited them and they have been ill-mannered.’ I can almost hear her say the words. I owe Lady Maple an apology.”
“She also said it was Mama who quarreled with her,” Maria said, frowning as she gazed through the window at the rain. “But it was the other way around. She said it was Mama who quarreled with her brother and sisters, but again she got it backward. She said it was Mama who caused the rift between Papa and Brandon— the present Brandon.”
She never used her half brother’s given name, Estelle had noticed.
“That last was mean and cruel and absolutely untrue,” Maria continued. “She knows nothing about that rift. She had been estranged from Mama for years before it happened. It was Mama who was the greatest victim. She suffered the most, and she suffered dreadfully. She had loved him as a son and had trusted him utterly, just as I had, yet he stole from her. All her most costly jewels, all her personal ones, the jewels Papa had given her. She always said it was not so much their monetary worth that grieved her as their emotional value. To her they were irreplaceable. And he took them. Then he showed not a glimmering of remorse, though he had broken her heart and Papa’s. It was why Papa banished him. It is downright cruel to say it was all Mama’s fault when none of it was. She even pleaded with Papa not to be so harsh with him.”
Estelle patted Maria’s hand again while the words echoed inside her head. And he took them. Then he showed not a glimmering of remorse. She remembered his cold unconcern when his dog had frightened her half to death by the riverbank. And his stiff, reticent manner when she and Bertrand had called at Prospect Hall soon after his arrival there. She thought of his strange, abrupt, passionless proposal of marriage earlier this morning. And his brief, hard kiss. Was it all of a piece? Then he showed not a glimmering of remorse … It was not so much their monetary worth that grieved her as their emotional value.