Reunited at the King's Court

by Helen Dickson

  ‘How are you, Marian? I’ve been so concerned about you since you told me... I’ve been unable to think of anything else.’

  ‘I’m quite well considering. I can’t tell you what it means to me that you’ve come and I hope you’re going to stay awhile.’

  ‘That was the arrangement,’ Arlette said as Hester’s coachman dropped her trunk in the hall before returning to Oaklands House.

  ‘Mrs Cracken has prepared a room next to mine, although this being a small house it’s the only one, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I am sure I’ll be quite comfortable. Tell me. Have you seen James?’

  Marian nodded, looking down at her lap. ‘Yes. As soon as he got the letter he came immediately. When I told him about the baby he insisted that we marry right away. I’ve told him not to say anything to his parents at present, not until I’ve told William.’

  ‘That’s sensible. It would not do for William to find out from another source. When do you expect to see William?’

  ‘He said he would try to visit me today, although he wasn’t certain what time. I don’t know what to do, Arlette. The last thing I want is to hurt him. I’m confused and unhappy. But I’ve got to be positive, I know that, and try to focus on constructive thoughts before I see William.’

  * * *

  James came to see Marian in the early afternoon. He never came to the house in case he encountered William, but since Marian had told him that she was expecting his child, his concern for her was so great that he was prepared to risk anything. Besides, he considered it was time that Lord William Latham knew of their romantic relationship.

  Arlette was in her room unpacking her trunk when he arrived. When she came down to the parlour she found Marian and James seated side by side on the sofa, facing each other. James jumped up and faced her, giving her a somewhat nervous smile, clearly finding it awkward that after their previous conversation she should find him openly visiting Marian at her home.

  ‘Arlette. I’m delighted to see you. Are you going to join us?’

  ‘If I’m not intruding. I saw you arrive from the window and thought I should make myself known. Has Marian told you I am to stay with her for a while?’

  ‘Yes, she has, and that you two are sisters. I can hardly believe that you had no knowledge of each other until recently.’

  ‘I assure you it is real enough and we are half-sisters,’ Arlette corrected him, sitting in a large winged chair opposite the sofa and straightening out her skirt.

  Mrs Cracken, a middle-aged widow with a warm, friendly nature, appeared with a jug of lemonade and three glasses. She placed them on a low table before leaving. James poured the lemonade, handing a glass to Arlette before resuming his seat beside Marian.

  ‘Marian has told you...?’

  Arlette fixed him with a level stare, not at all pleased at the almost impossible circumstances he had created. ‘That she is with child? Yes, James, she has told me. It’s too late now for recriminations. I only hope you are prepared to face Lord Latham with the truth. In the circumstances he has to be told and the sooner the better.’

  ‘Yes—yes, of course. And I will.’

  ‘He will be furious,’ Marian whispered, clearly close to tears.

  ‘As will my parents,’ James replied. ‘But when they get used to the idea and know that we are to marry, I know everything will be all right.’

  ‘When shall we tell William?’

  ‘Soon. There is nothing to fear, Marian,’ James said, taking her hands in his own, trying to reassure her. ‘We will tell him together.’

  Arlette sat back in her chair, sipping her lemonade. Marian had told her she was expecting William to call and it didn’t look as if James was in any hurry to leave. She felt an anxiety in her stomach that was tightening as the minutes dragged by and she knew her conversation sounded forced, then she heard voices in the hall as Mrs Cracken opened the door to William.

  Arlette heard him speak to Mrs Cracken. There was no denying the reality of that achingly familiar deep voice and shock waves at his unfortunate timing shot down her spine. Although on second thoughts perhaps it was all to the good. Best to get the situation out in the open and then everyone could move on with their lives.

  When he strode in, splendidly attired in scarlet and black, joy exploded in her heart at the sight of his handsome face. For a moment he stood there. They looked at one another from across the short distance that separated them and once more, as though their minds were linked by some invisible thread, their eyes and hearts spoke to one another. The moment lasted just a couple of seconds and a faint smile lingered on his lips before taking in the scene before him, before realising what he had walked into hit him with full force.

  * * *

  William took in the tableau that presented itself to him: Arlette seated across from Marian and James Sefton sitting close to Marian, holding one of her hands in his own, a table with refreshments between them. For a moment he was unable to absorb the full shock of why Sefton should be holding the hand of his betrothed.

  Slowly he moved into the centre of the room, a long string of colourful oaths running through his mind. He watched as Sefton’s arm snaked round the back of Marian to what looked like him an act of possession and only then, as he stood and watched, did it finally dawn on him what it meant and that he was being forced to play the part of the betrayed bridegroom in this bizarre drama that was about to unfold in this room.

  For a long moment there was total silence filled with tension, then William spoke.

  ‘Would one of you mind telling me what is going on?’

  He continued to keep his eyes focused on Marian and James. Seated close together, they seemed to be drawing strength from each other as they almost imperceptibly held hands and they exchanged looks in that age-old way of lovers.

  ‘Tell me,’ he ground out.

  ‘Please, William, please don’t be angry,’ Marian whispered. ‘As you see, James and I, we...’

  ‘We love each other,’ James said with a sudden show of bravado, ‘and my dearest wish is to make Marian my wife.’

  William raked his gaze over the young man with insulting thoroughness, narrow and assessing. ‘That’s an odd thing to say when Marian is betrothed to me,’ he said with condescending sarcasm.

  Marian nodded slowly, too full of emotion to speak. James sat looking at her, looking at the sad droop of her shoulders, seeming to realise what a culmination of feelings were going through her mind. She was such a tragic figure. Reaching out, he placed his hands on hers.

  ‘Marian, it will soon be over. Come, don’t upset yourself. Look at me.’ He turned her face to his. Her cheeks were awash with tears and she made no move to stop them. While William looked on, James, obviously deeply affected by her anguish, did the thing which at that moment seemed so natural. He folded her in his arms, her head cradled against his breast, while she cried brokenly.

  After a moment she seemed to pull herself together and took a long, quivering breath, a sodden handkerchief clutched in her hand. She was deathly pale and Arlette was amazed at how difficult it must be for her to hold herself together as she started to speak quietly, as if the shame of what she had done was rising up to overwhelm her. The sobbing had stopped, but tears continued to stream down her face.

  ‘Do you think I wanted this?’ she whispered wretchedly. ‘I couldn’t help falling in love with James. It just happened—to both of us.’

  ‘And my affection for Marian deepened during the many days she was alone in Bruges.’ James’s eyes passed lovingly over her strained features and he raised her hand to his lips, gently placing a kiss on her fingers. Her lips trembled in a smile as she gave him a look of gratitude.

  Arlette could see that William was working hard to contain his anger in this outpouring of affection between the woman he had expected to wed and James Sefton. If he was feeling guilt brought about by Ja
mes’s remark about Marian’s loneliness she could not tell, but she suspected it had hit its intended spot. She stood up, thinking it best to leave Marian to explain the entirety of her predicament herself. ‘I think I should leave you.’

  ‘No,’ Marian uttered in a strangled voice on a note of desperation. ‘Don’t go, Arlette. I want you to stay for when I tell him...’ As if realising the enormity of what she was about to disclose, she looked wildly at William. ‘Arlette knows everything. In telling her I made her an unwitting accessory and I am sorry if this has affected her. She has been a tremendous source of strength, but I never thought it would be an issue for her.’

  Arlette sank back down on to her chair. When James looked as though he were about to stand up William shot him a dagger of a glance.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ he commanded shortly, looking at Marian. ‘What else do you have to tell me, Marian? Come, out with it. It would appear that you have made everyone privy to your sordid secrets but me.’ When she remained silent, her eyes downcast, he looked at Arlette. ‘Well? Since you know all there is to know, tell me.’

  Arlette glanced at Marian, who nodded her head, indicating that Arlette could speak for her. Arlette realised that emotionally Marian was weak and that she shrank from any unpleasantness, and telling William what she had done was terrifying her.

  Taking a deep breath, Arlette said, ‘Marian—she—what she has to tell you is that she is with child.’

  Chapter Seven

  William’s entire body stiffened and his brilliant blue eyes were as wide and savagely furious as a wounded beast’s. He stared at Arlette with incredulity, his eyes boring into her. In frigid silence he accused her of complicity and treachery, before his face hardened into a mask of freezing rage. They faced one another and William knew of the awful truth. Unable to quell the cauldron of emotions that were seething inside him, his fury escaped him, vibrating around her.

  ‘You! You knew of this?’

  ‘Yes, but I pledged not to reveal it.’

  ‘Come, Arlette. I expected better from you. Well, it cannot be mine. I know that for a fact.’

  In angry frustration he combed his hair back from his brow with his fingers and turned from them. After a moment of struggling to gain control, he turned back to them.

  ‘And is there more, Arlette? Are you going to explain why you of all people kept this from me?’ That she had known this all along and not told him, knowing how it would affect him, was like a dagger thrust to his heart.

  Arlette didn’t like William’s tone, but she couldn’t entirely blame him. She was too familiar with his private code of honour and she knew the disappointment and pain this confession had brought him. They both looked at each other for a long moment. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt deeply ashamed, as if she were personally responsible for Marian’s affair with James and the resulting pregnancy.

  ‘Marian told me in confidence. It wasn’t mine to share.’

  Now the truth was out in the open, Marian held herself rigid. To show one moment of weakness and she would crumble.

  William’s hard eyes settled on James. ‘How long have you known about this?’

  ‘Not until I received Marian’s note requesting to see me.’

  William’s eyes shot to Marian. ‘You wrote asking him to come here? When was that?’

  ‘Just—just a few days ago. Arlette...’ The words dried up in her mouth when she realised she was about to implicate Arlette even further in her subterfuge.

  ‘Arlette what?’ William demanded scathingly. ‘Arlette delivered the letter for you?’

  William’s eyes darted to Arlette as the import of what he was hearing slammed into him, the pain that Arlette had kept this from him hurting him more than Marian’s infidelity.

  ‘You colluded in this—this charade?’ He stared hard at her, as if convinced she was the mastermind behind the whole sordid affair, yet despite all the evidence, he could not find a trace of guilt or guile in those flashing eyes of hers or the angry face turned to his. Tearing his eyes from her, he again fixed them on the two people who could not sit any closer to each other if they tried. ‘And when were you going to tell me?’ he demanded in a fury. Marian was still holding on to James Sefton as if for dear life. ‘I am awaiting your explanation. If you have one to offer.’

  ‘We were waiting for the right moment,’ James provided, eyeing the tall, powerful man warily.

  ‘The right moment? Confound it, Sefton. How dare you treat Marian as some kind of strumpet and how dare you make a cuckold of me? Your behaviour is nothing less than scandalous. You disgust me. You may thank God that her father is not alive to witness this. And before I close this distasteful subject you owe me an explanation. How long have you two been carrying on behind my back? Well?’

  ‘A-about four months,’ Marian whispered.

  ‘Four months and I never suspected—not for one minute. And you are sure you are with child?’

  Marian nodded. ‘Yes,’ she whispered with apparent meekness, lowering her eyes in acquiescence and flushing, not totally without shame. ‘I am so very sorry, William. I did not mean it to happen. The last thing I want is to hurt you.’

  ‘Being sorry changes nothing and does not make it right.’ His eyes took in her fair hair and sweet face, stricken and frightened, her body clothed in a pretty blue-sprigged day dress that gave her a mistaken look of innocence and naivety. He had always thought her pure of heart, full of laughter and brightness, and discovering that she was no longer pure, that she’d played him false, was like being kicked in the chest.

  The room fell silent once more. Arlette couldn’t even hear the sound of her breathing and realised that she at least was holding her breath. Marian spoke and the spell was broken. Admitting what she had done was one thing, but to explain it in detail was far harder. As she spoke, William listened, staring at her with a look of absolute fury. His mouth sat in a bitter line, his black brows drawn in a straight bar across his brooding blue eyes. Marian couldn’t meet his eyes.

  * * *

  Arlette sat and listened, watching William. Whenever he spoke, his deep voice scraped against her lacerated nerves and, on the occasion when he glanced at her, apprehension made her quickly look away. Suddenly he turned his back on them, crossed the room to the window and stood looking out. For what seemed an eternity, Arlette sat perfectly still, existing in a state of jarring tension, struggling to remain calm. He looked relaxed and in control, yet there was an undeniable aura of forcefulness, of power, restrained for the moment, but gathering force, just waiting to be unleashed.

  He turned and fixed them with an angry stare. ‘Your father entrusted me with your guardianship so I will take the initiative. This is what you will do and I would advise you to think very carefully,’ he said, looking directly at James, ‘before you go off and do anything stupid such as abandoning Marian. You will regret it, I promise you.’

  Despite the icy sound of William’s silken voice and clearly offended that he should be accused of doing anything so base, James lifted his chin. ‘I would not consider leaving her. I love Marian. She is to bear my child and I will marry her.’

  ‘As her guardian I insist that you do just that. To avoid the disgrace of bearing a bastard child, to allay suspicion and to cover the shame, you will marry without delay. I will arrange it, so if you have not already informed your parents then do so and prepare yourself. I will call on you tomorrow.’

  As if he couldn’t bear being in the same room as them a moment longer, with purposeful strides he walked out.

  Excusing herself, Arlette hurried after him. Not until the door had closed behind them did she call his name.

  His entire body tensed and his jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle began to throb in his cheek. Slowly he turned his head and looked straight at her, cold, dispassionate and completely in control. His gaze snapped on her face and his expressi
on hardened. He surveyed her coldly, his hands on his hips and his eyes holding a deadly glitter. There was something in their depths that Arlette could not read. Something that went deeper than anger. She faced him with as much composure as her shaking limbs would allow, but the eyes meeting hers gave her no reassurance. She could have faced the blows from his hands better than the furious intensity of his gaze. Her usually robust self-confidence began to weaken and the facade which she wrapped around her in a protective layer of armour began to fall away as her stiff self-control went spinning away from her in waves of pain.

  ‘What is it you want, Arlette? Have you not said all there is to say, or is there something more you have to add to this sordid tale?’

  ‘Please don’t leave like this, William. You—you are upset and angry...’

  ‘I am furious, and justifiably so, don’t you agree? You knew,’ he said accusingly. ‘All this time you knew what was going on behind my back and you said nothing. When I held you in my arms you knew. When I kissed you, you knew. That day in the garden at Oaklands House you should have told me then instead of watching me make a complete and utter fool of myself.’ His anger scorched her. ‘When was Marian going to tell me? Has she no sense of guilt whatsoever?’

  ‘Of course she does. She truly did not want to hurt you.’

  ‘Hurt? I am outraged by her conduct.’

  His hostility was like a tangible force. Arlette’s first reaction was numbing fright at the terrible, utter rage on his face. Such a transformation had come over his features that she recoiled before the change. All that had ever been good-humoured, teasing and attractive had given way to fury. Wetting her lips, Arlette took a deep, steadying breath. Even if the fact of Marian’s infidelity didn’t have the power to hurt as it would have if he loved her deeply, Arlette could well understand his anger at and humiliation by it all.

  ‘All this is unpleasant. I do realise how difficult all this is for you,’ she uttered quietly, in an attempt to defuse his wrath. ‘I couldn’t tell you, much as I wanted to. Please believe that.’