When he’d received Mara’s note, Foster was stunned—not only that Rose was staying in their hotel, but that she had threatened Mara with public humiliation. So he did the only thing he could have done. He marched up to Rose’s room and confronted her about what she’d been up to and demanded that she leave Mara in peace.
A very volatile argument ensued. Rose accused him of being selfish and petty and said that she’d already started writing the letters telling the London newspapers of his affair with the unmarried daughter of the Earl of Cashelmore. He told her that if she did that, he would still end their marriage, but he would not be generous with her. He’d cut her off without a cent. She screamed at him, calling him vile names, and he told her to stay away from Mara and he left.
He’d been tempted to visit Mara, but thought the better of it. Instead he went to the pub across the street to cool off and have a pint or two. Rose had infuriated him. She had no right to frighten and threaten Mara with ruination. Her vindictive threats only reinforced his desire to be rid of her. When he finally went back to his room, he fell asleep and didn’t wake up until the hotel was on fire.
“I saw Rose burning . . . I wanted to help her, but I couldn’t . . . I’m so sorry,” Mara said as a tear ran down her cheek.
Of course, Mara would want to help the woman who wished her nothing but ill will. That was his Mara. He placed a gentle kiss upon her hand again. After what she’d been through as a child with her own mother’s death, and then for her to be involved in another fire and death . . . It was unthinkable.
“I know you tried, even though she was unkind to you,” Foster whispered. “It’s all right.”
There was a knock on the door, and thinking it was Brighton returning with food for Mara, Foster called for her to come in, unwilling to let go of Mara’s hand to open the door.
But it was not Brighton. To his great surprise, Alice Bellwether entered the room. Foster had known Rose’s maid as long as he’d known Rose. Alice had been Rose’s only companion.
“Lord Sterling,” Alice began. “I heard you were here and I have some news for you. May I speak to you?”
“Yes, of course.” Foster said, curious as to why she would seek him out. “This is Lady Mara Reeves. Mara, this is Alice Bellwether, Rose’s maid.”
“I’m sorry to bother you, my lady,” Alice said. Her round face looked worried and her eyes were red-rimmed from crying. “I can see that you are injured. But there are things I need to share with his lordship and you should hear them as well.”
Mara attempted to sit up straighter, pressing her hand to her temple. Foster remained seated on the bed beside her, holding her other hand. However untoward it seemed, he refused to leave Mara’s side.
Alice Bellwether came closer, unsure what to do. Foster gave her a nod to indicate that she could go ahead.
“It’s a dreadful thing that happened,” she began, practically distraught.
“Yes,” Foster agreed. “Rose’s death is quite tragic.”
“My lady started the fire!” Alice blurted out, her expression horrified.
“What do you mean?” Foster cried in disbelief. “Why would she do such a terrible thing?”
“I’m not certain, but I have an idea. I loved her ladyship and always thought the best of her, I did. Truly, I did. I never thought she could have done something this awful. But last night . . .” Alice began to cry.
Foster and Mara exchanged looks. He finally released Mara’s hand, and he rose from the bed, making his way to Alice. He helped the poor woman to sit in a chair and handed her a handkerchief.
“What happened last night, Alice?” he asked softly.
She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and sniffled. “It was as if she lost her mind after you left, my lord. Begging your pardon, but I was in the adjoining room and I heard everything that happened between you.”
Foster cringed. He had not known that his argument with Rose was overheard by anyone. Still, would that have tempered any of the things he had said to her? More than likely not. He was not especially proud of what he had said, but he had meant every word. And it had needed to be said.
“I apologize, Alice. I did not know you were listening.”
“But you were right, my lord.” Alice’s tears streamed down her face. “I’ve kept my peace all these years because I was devoted to Lady Sterling. I knew her before she married you, and what happened to her was terrible, there’s no doubt. But I always felt she had wronged you when you had done nothing to deserve it. You’d only been kind to her, and that was more than most husbands would have done in your place. You left her in peace, which was all she wanted after what she’d been through. You were a true gentleman, my lord. But she wasn’t fair to you. When I heard you last night, I understood everything.”
Foster stared at the woman, with her red hair and round face and her tearful hazel eyes. “You understood what, Alice?”
“That you were being punished for something that wasn’t of your own doing. Lady Sterling cheated you and you never knew.”
“She cheated me?”
Alice nodded emphatically. “Yes, she cheated you out of having a family and heirs. You were right to want an annulment because she was never a true wife to you in that sense. I know the truth of it. She confessed to me from the start that the two of you had never . . . you know”—Alice blushed—“but the thing is, even if you had, she couldn’t have ever given you children.”
Confused, Foster asked, “What do you mean by that?”
“I have never told this to a soul before.” Alice actually glanced around the room nervously as if someone were to overhear her. “My lady gave birth to a child just weeks before you married her. It was such a dangerous delivery that she almost died. The doctor said she was ruined and couldn’t have any more children. Lady Sterling was barren.”
A baby! Stunned by this revelation, Foster’s mind suddenly spun with a dozen questions. “Rose had a baby before we married? Whose child was it?”
Alice dabbed her tear-streaked round cheeks. “She’d fallen in love with one of the footmen at Brookwood Manor the summer before you married her. He was young and handsome and loved her too. They wanted to marry. But when her parents found out, her father had him shipped off to America. Oh, Mr. Davenport could be quite cruel to his daughter and he was furious with her, let me tell you. He arranged your marriage knowing full well that Rose had been with the footman but before they were aware of the pregnancy. Then they postponed the wedding to your lordship until after her baby was born.”
So Rose had known of their impending marriage months before Foster did. His father had waited until the night before the wedding to tell Foster about it. Foster shook his head in disbelief at the entire situation. There had been so much he’d been unaware of ten years ago. “Where is the child now?”
“The poor baby boy was born dead.” Alice heaved a great sob.
“Dear God.” Foster didn’t know what to think anymore.
With a heavy heart, Foster recalled his wedding day and the first time he laid eyes on Rose Davenport. There had been something tragic about her even then. She was quite cold and devoid of emotion. Yet there was all the crying the first weeks of their marriage. He’d simply thought she feared the marriage bed. Now he knew why. She was mourning the loss of her child, her lover, and the life she had wanted to have. No wonder she seemed inconsolable. The girl had been heartbroken.
And Foster hadn’t had a clue about any of it.
And Rose’s parents! They married their only daughter off to a stranger, knowing she had just borne another man’s child and that she was unable to bear more children in the future. Both Rose’s parents and his own parents had arranged a union that devastated all those involved, and for what? Joining some property and gaining a title and money? All four of them had since passed away, unable to see the havoc their selfishness had wrought.
“But she wasn’t fair to you all these years, Lord Sterling,” Alice said. “And when I overh
eard you last night, I knew the things you said to her were true. She didn’t ever want you. She didn’t ever love you. Why did she care that you wanted to annul the marriage or divorce her? It was never a true marriage. Why did it bother her that you wanted to marry the lady here and have a real marriage?”
“She was being spiteful,” Foster said, with a regretful sigh.
Rose didn’t want anyone to be happy if she couldn’t be happy, and he had said as much to her last night. However, at the time he’d no idea just how unhappy his wife was with her own life. Would it have made a difference if he had known her past? Perhaps. Maybe at the very start of their marriage, if he had been aware of what she’d just endured, if she had confided in him, he would have had more sympathy and understanding for her instead of being completely baffled by her.
But it was too late now for any of that.
“She was more than being spiteful,” Alice added. “She was being deliberately cruel, for she didn’t tell you what was happening to her.”
“Go on,” Foster encouraged her, although he didn’t think he could stand listening to any more of Rose’s sad life.
“Lady Sterling was dying.”
Dying? Foster was speechless, but Mara wasn’t. With a knowing look on her face, she asked, “She was ill, wasn’t she?”
Alice nodded sadly. “Yes, last month the doctor in London confirmed what her doctor in York had already told her. There was some kind of tumor in her head. She only had a few months left to live. The London doctor said she couldn’t expect to live past the spring.”
After a stunned silence, Foster said, “That explains her unexpected trip to London. I’d wondered about that. It never occurred to me that she was in town to visit a doctor! But why on earth didn’t she simply tell me that she was ill? I would have held off on the legal proceedings, if I’d known. I’d have waited until . . .”
The unsaid words hung in the air over the three of them. Yes, he would have had the decency to wait until Rose passed away before marrying Mara. He could not have annulled the marriage knowing that Rose was on her deathbed. He was not that cruel or unfeeling.
“She was quite determined that you not know anything about it,” Alice explained. “She didn’t want your pity. But more than that, she wanted you to feel guilty about her death afterward because you didn’t know about it. She wanted to punish you for I know not what . . .”
Foster shook his head. “She wanted to punish me for being happy, when she could never be. But I wanted her to be happy. I told her it wasn’t too late for her to find happiness for herself. I even suggested she go abroad, maybe to Italy, and enjoy herself. She laughed at me.” Foster recalled his last words to Rose with distaste.
“That she did,” Alice confirmed. “She was outraged that you had found your young lady here and wanted to marry her.” She turned and focused her attention on Mara. “She was jealous of your youth and beauty and that you would most certainly be able to give him the family he’d always wanted. But she was fascinated by you at the same time. After we saw you in the bookshop that afternoon, she insisted on following you here to Ireland, although I tried to talk her out of it. She wanted to know everything about you.”
Foster glanced sharply at Mara. “Rose came to see you at the bookshop? Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“Because I had no idea who she was that day,” Mara explained. “I simply took her for another customer. But I had noticed that she seemed frail and ill. It wasn’t until she came to my room last night, that I discovered who she really was.”
“She came back from that visit last night in fine form, let me tell you,” Alice exclaimed with a knowing look. “I didn’t learn that she’d been to see you until afterward, Lady Mara. I thought she was in bed for the night, and I’d gone downstairs to get myself a little something from the pub, even though I know she doesn’t like when I do that. When I came back to check on her, she was not just angry. She was quite livid. So much so that she threw some china figurines on the floor and shattered them to pieces. And that was when you came in, Lord Sterling.”
“I can imagine,” Foster said. Yes, he’d seen Rose in one of her rages before. It was not a pretty sight.
“After you left, my lord, I gave her a piece of my mind,” Alice explained. “She’d turned up her nose at a perfectly wonderful husband and could have attempted to be happy in her life. But she chose to be angry and bitter, dwelling on a past that she could not change. I told her it was wrong of her to blame you for being happy and it was wrong to publicly ruin Lady Mara, who had done nothing to deserve being treated so heartlessly. We got into a terrible row. But just before she ordered me from the room, she said she wanted to kill herself and solve everyone’s problems.”
“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think? Even for Rose?” Foster asked.
“Yes, but she was quite overwrought. I think the journey to Dublin was more exhausting for her than we realized. Anyway, she was quite upset and I wanted to stay and console her. But she wouldn’t allow it. She sent me from the room and told me not to come back until morning.” Alice began another bout of crying.
“If you weren’t there, then how do you know that she set the fire?” Foster asked.
“Because I know. I left her sitting there at the table by the lamp, crying. Today the authorities questioned me. They said the fire began in her room. And I just know . . .” Alice sobbed, a great heaving sob. “She did it on purpose. And I think she wanted not to die alone. She wanted to take you and Lady Mara with her.”
An agonized silence filled the room, broken only by Alice’s sniffling.
Had Rose truly killed herself? Had she tried to kill all of them last night? Foster was beyond knowing what to believe about her anymore. He’d learned more about Rose in the last half hour than he had in their entire ten years of marriage. It was quite astonishing really.
He met Mara’s eyes. She’d been quietly crying as well at the sadness of it all. The fire and Rose’s horrible death. He didn’t blame her for crying.
At that moment it occurred to him that Mara’s premonition had come true.
25
Proclamations
The next evening, Mara was still confined to bed. Her head throbbed, not just from her injury, but from all they had learned about Rose Sheridan the day before.
The sadness in Rose’s life had touched Mara’s heart, especially in light of all Rose had revealed to Mara that night in her room. Rose had had no power over anything that had happened to her. Her life had been controlled by her parents and then by her husband. Rose finally took control of her own life at the end by taking it herself.
Mara was inordinately saddened by it, because it was essentially true of all women. Rose had been right. Mara had just been lucky enough to belong to a family who valued women and allowed her the freedom to make her own decisions about her life. Mara shuddered to think what would have become of her if her parents had forced her into a marriage to someone she hadn’t even met. She couldn’t bear the thought of it.
Mara was a very lucky girl, indeed. She couldn’t wait to bring Foster home to meet her family. But she had to get well first.
She’d suffered some burns on her arms and feet, which were now covered in salve and wrapped in bandages. And then there was the pain in her head. Surviving the fire had been a miracle, indeed. Foster had saved her life and she barely recalled him carrying her out of the burning hotel.
Brighton had been hovering over her constantly, concerned that Mara was not recovering quickly enough, while Foster had been out making arrangements for Rose’s burial. Mara had just dismissed Brighton for the evening, when Foster rejoined her in her room.
“Is it done then?” she asked, looking at his weary eyes.
Foster nodded sadly. “It’s a sorrowful business. Three other people in the hotel died in the fire as well.”
“Brighton mentioned to me earlier that others had died too.” It was all heartbreaking.
“When I think how clos
e I came to losing you, Mara . . .” Foster came and sat beside her on the bed. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you now.” He kissed her cheek softly.
“Well, you didn’t lose me and you’re not going to,” she whispered, kissing him back.
“How are you feeling?” He eyed her ugly bruise with concern. “This looks even worse than it did yesterday.”
“I’m much better.” She wasn’t. Her head still pounded, but she knew Foster would worry unduly if she told him.
He looked at her with skepticism. “I hope so.”
“The doctor said I should be well enough to travel the day after tomorrow,” she announced brightly. She longed to get out of this hotel and Dublin. She missed her parents and her brother.
“Do you want to go directly to London? Or would you rather return to Cashelmore and rest there for a bit?” Foster asked.
“Let’s go straight to London,” she said.
“I have another question for you.” Foster hesitated.
Mara gave him a quizzical look. “What is it?”
“Well, we could wait and get married in London as we planned, or . . . We could get married here, now, before we go home.”
With all her time in bed, Mara had been thinking the same things as well. Now that Foster was free, they could marry whenever they wanted to. It might be easier to face her family if she was already married to Foster. She was about to answer when the door to the room suddenly burst open.
Mara froze at the sight of her parents.
Her father and mother strode inside. They did not look happy. Mara’s heart sank. This was not how she’d intended to introduce her future husband to her parents. While he was sitting beside her on a bed in a hotel room.
“Mara!” Declan Reeves called as he took in the scene before him. His eyes narrowed with indignation. “What in the hell is going on here? What are you doing with my daughter?”
Startled, Foster instantly rose to his feet. “Excuse me, Lord Cashelmore, let me introduce myself. I’m Foster Sheridan, the Earl of Sterling. And you must be Lady Cashelmore.”
The Irish Heiress Page 26