Scandal and Secrets Page 9

  “Lawk’s a’ mercy. What be that about?”

  “She says she will be delivering messages from two family members―and I will understand her not naming them once we speak in person.”

  “From yer husband maybe?”

  “I will have to wait and see. For now we must make some plans to house and entertain her. I must tell you, on sight she seems a very rigid and imposing lady, but she has a soft side which I have always been lucky enough to foster,” Roberta said, glancing up from the letter before lowering her eyes again. “She expects to visit an old friend while she is in the district―oh, this is a surprise―she and Lady Catherine were confidants while their husbands were on the same diplomatic mission.”

  “Ah, the auld dear who is so carefu’ ne’er to indulge in gossip.”

  Roberta smiled and shook her head. “Let us hope their reminiscence puts both in a forthcoming mood. Lady Caroline will come to us after spending Christmas with her son, the Earl of Silchester, and his family. I am glad we will not need to expect the present Countess to visit. A more disagreeable and supercilious person I have never met.”

  The righteous celebration of Christmas with the workers and their families, and even a few gentry still interested in socializing with the castaway Lady Bond, went well. Even Lady Catherine Colquhoun visited the Hall for long enough to distribute gifts of religious tracts to some of the children, and was pleasantly surprised when Roberta told her of the expected visitor.

  “You must all come to visit, my Dear. Lady Caroline and I must be saved from too great a recollection of things past. It must be all of twenty years.”

  But after New Year, when the visitor duly arrived, she insisted on closeting herself privately with Roberta for several long conversations before they could ever think of making a social visit. Lady Caroline made herself comfortable before the fire in the smaller, ladies withdrawing room.

  “Where would you like me to start? With the Dragon or with the Rake?” she said with an ironic smile.

  “Oh dear. I had hoped that I would receive something more in keeping with the season, My Lady.”

  “No formalities. I am Aunt Caroline to you, my Dear, much as it distresses my brother to admit of it.”

  “The Marquess has a message for me?”

  Lady Caroline pierced her with a sharp gaze. “You want the worst, first? Probably very wise, but I find my tidings very unpleasant and had hoped to postpone their scurrilous message.”

  Roberta stared as her visitor gathered her thoughts.

  “Put baldly,” Lady Caroline said. “The Marquess wants you to consent to forwarding a legal divorce in the House of Lords.”

  Roberta’s cheeks flushed. “I will not be arraigned for adultery. Never!”

  “Very wise, and I approve of your sentiment. However, you must contemplate the possibility of my brother arraigning you for divorce in the House of Lords, without your compliance. I’m afraid the ordeal of undergoing an investigation for adultery, even if proved false, will likely besmirch your reputation forever.”

  Roberta’s voice shook with anger. “How dare he! I will sue him for the injury.”

  Lady Caroline smiled. “I do so admire your spirit, Roberta. I am almost tempted to write my brother saying he is making a mistake in refusing your marriage. You would do the House of Tiverton a power of good―but I have no hope whatsoever of that ever coming to pass.”

  “The marriage will be annulled, then. There is no other possible outcome?”

  “I have to say that is so. He will not change his mind.”

  “But if there is no cause for divorce . . .” Roberta took a deep breath. “This conflict could go on for years.”

  Lady Caroline nodded. “Until one of the parties dies.”

  Roberta stared into the fire. How could she consider living under the threat of this legal action forever . . . or for very many years? Common sense told her that the angry gentleman, her father-in-law, would probably be the first to leave the field but she could not bear to think of waiting for the old man to die. What insidious and sinful thoughts might come to her after all the legal possibilities were exhausted?

  What of Lord Bond? From what Mr. Holmes had told her it seemed as if her husband was more desirous of resuming the marriage than she. It was possible that he genuinely loved her, but what did that mean―given the record of his past transgressions. What kind of marriage might she expect―other than a continuous round of adulterous relationships that he may end by coming to her for forgiveness? Too much gossip existed already of noble wives who lived alone and neglected while their husbands dallied with every chorus girl and milkmaid who jumped into their bed.

  “It seems that there is no solution to the problem except my own descent into sin,” she said, “and I feel the Marquess cannot seriously want me to betray the charge put upon me by my vows before the Almighty.”

  “Yes, I cannot see you brought to such a pass,” Lady Caroline answered with a deep sigh. “Mr. Holmes asked me to remind you about asking the chaplain aboard the Medusa for the loan of the marriage license from the Archbishop.”

  “We were going to ask for it if we were to look for errors that could annul the marriage. I am not sure that I am ready for that yet.”

  “Yes, that must be considered very carefully. Let us move on to the plans your husband presented before me.”

  “He has a new plan, or is this the idea of my audience with the Prince Regent?”

  “The same. He feels that if the possibility of the alienation of the peerage is dismissed from contention then the Marquess cannot prevent the two of you resuming your married life.”

  “But the mensa et thoro?”

  “The fathers of the Church cannot be offended to see the order rescinded and the matrimony saved. Of course, my Brother can make things very difficult for you both. He can reduce Julian’s income from the estate to the barest of payments that may be attributed to the original barony of Tiverton. And I am sure you have already learned that Julian is not a one to scrimp and save.”

  “He is very extravagant, I notice. But what does he plan for the audience with the Prince? Should it come to pass.”

  “He has given me a list of personal traits His Royal Highness is known to possess that may advance our cause if judiciously employed.”

  “Good Heavens. Is that not a proceeding verging upon sedition?”

  Lady Caroline shrugged. “I am sure that thought is very shocking for a woman such as yourself, brought up as a commoner. I assure you that the machinations of the nobility very often verge upon such treasons. We are merely very careful who should hear of our intentions. It is something like sixty years since a peer lost his head for rebellion. It was Lord Lovat, the Jacobite, I believe.”

  Roberta failed to find a statement that would cap her Aunt’s casual acceptance of such political truths. She stilled her apprehensions and the thought that the punishments that had threatened her in Sir Totham Wootenbury’s court were now paled by the possibility that as a member of the peerage, she was now entitled to the honour of beheading for any criminal act against the monarchy. “What are these traits of His Royal Highness that I must learn, Aunt?”

  “Nothing too serious.” Lady Caroline smiled conspiratorially. “You may not have known of his friendship with the late Duchess of Devonshire, but he was quite under her spell when faced with matters of State decisions. Well, it seems that he has transferred that dependence onto the Lady’s nephew, the heir to the current Lord Spencer―not that the poor lad knows a jot about affairs of state.”

  “Oh, how might that affect my audience with His Royal Highness?”

  “I’m not sure, but Julian insisted of my telling.” She smiled again. “Better keep it under your hat. It’s worth a few weeks in the Tower, or at least a severe black mark on Prinny’s friends list.”

  Roberta steeled herself. “What next?”

  “Don’t try to discuss anything serious once he’s started on his evening decanter of cherry brandy.
He might be full of compassion and concern, but he will not remember what he has promised in the morning.”

  “What would I do?”

  “I would suggest you choose that time to tell him of your audience with Bonaparte. He will remember something of the tales and ask you to speak more of them in the morning―then you can work in the problem of the alienation of the Tiverton peerage.”

  “Good Lord. Am I expected to stay the night?”

  Lady Caroline laughed. “When you are given audience by the Monarch, you are at his disposal until he gives you leave to depart.”

  Roberta felt a blush start at her neck and spread up to her hairline.

  “Oh, you do not need to fear anything of that sort. He is a very affectionate old chap, but his tastes lie with women far more buxom and motherly than you.”

  Roberta stared at the floor for a minute or two before speaking again. “Are there any more instructions?”

  “Let me see. Ah, yes. He is very sentimental, and so you may play up your plight of being refused your marriage by a very sour and dogmatic old man. That should earn his undying sympathy. And there was another.” Lady Caroline paused to think. “He loves uniforms and although he is getting too fat to complement good tailoring, he should be admired.”

  “I was surprised to find that Napoleon is not the ugly little dwarf our cartoonists portray him as. He really did look impressive in his uniform.”

  “Yes. Well. I don’t advise your telling the Prince that.” Lady Caroline tried to hide a smile. “So now we must come back to the nasty part. What must I tell my brother?”

  “I should write the Marquess a letter,” Roberta said firmly. “I will explain to him my reasons for not furthering his intention. He is a good Christian, is he not? He must surely respect my decision.”

  “It is certainly worth the attempt. It will also give him something to stew over while your husband and Holmes are working on your interview with the Prince.”

  “I wonder if the Prince would like a ceremony when the first of the new spitefuls is delivered to the navy,” Roberta said. “I don’t know what Their Lordships of the Admiralty plan for it, or what they intend to name it, but I would hardly imagine the Prince could forego some pageantry if he were to inspect a ship named HMS Prince Regent.”

  Lady Caroline laughed. “I think you have a wonderful idea. And you would be aboard?”

  “It could be quite proper for me to be aboard when the vessel docks at Chatham.”

  “I will send letters with your suggestion to the boys at once. Now we must make ready for our visit to Lady Colquhoun this evening. I’m quite looking forward to remembering old times with her.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Writing a Sharp Letter

  The visit with Lady Catherine went well, and Lady Caroline paid two more visits on her own. These discussions must have settled the Dowager Countess’ mind because the last evening of her visit she took Roberta into their confidential drawing room to speak of her errands once more.

  The two settled themselves into the chairs by the fire with a decanter of fine sherry, a wedding gift from the First Lord―some of his coveted amontillado.

  “Have you written the letter to the Marquess?” Lady Caroline asked.

  Roberta smiled and shook her head. “I have started several, but none of them seemed fit to send.”

  “I sympathise with you. It must be difficult to write such a letter to someone you have never met. Perhaps the words I must speak to you before I leave will put some fire into your thoughts.”

  Roberta stared, but said nothing.

  “This is the worst of the messages my Brother required me to carry.” She paused. “I could not think of a way to speak them that held both decency and accuracy, but my old friend suggested I let you make of them what you will. That you would know that his plan was nothing that I could countenance.”

  Roberta took a generous taste of the sherry and waited with her eyes riveted to her companion’s face.

  “My Brother said that if you would oblige him with a confession of adultery he would . . . ‘make it worth your while’ . . . were his words.”

  Roberta’s temper rose but she held her peace.

  “He said that he knew of several noblemen in straightened circumstances who would marry you after the divorce if he were to pay them a yearly remittance. One is a Marquess and the others a viscount and a baron―”

  Roberta’s words spilled out. “He thinks I need his assistance to find a husband? I will inform him that I do not need any man who has to be hired to give me his name. Does he still believe that I only married Julian for his peerage?”

  “I’m afraid he does. The powers of nobility crowd all other possibilities from his mind.”

  “They do not cloud mine. In fact, his plotting clarifies them most starkly. If the power of aristocracy does this to men, I want to have as little to do with it as I possibly can. I was quite prepared to honour my vows at our marriage if Julian has any chance of changing and acting like a man in love. A man bound in duty by his marriage vows.” She set her glass of sherry heavily onto the table beside her chair as Elise’s image came to her. “I quite accept that he will often stray and humiliate me as we grow older and yet would steel myself to accept his remorse, such as it may be, until it should happen again. All this in the hope that my forbearance and example should serve as a guide, as a lighthouse that would return him to the steady course he is missing. But if this is what the power of a peerage would likely do―. If he may grow more selfish and more arrogant as the years pass then I am best out of this trap I have fallen into.”

  “I am so sorry, My Dear.”

  “Thank you for telling me, Aunt Caroline. I believe I know exactly what I must write to my father-in-law. If you will excuse me, I would go to the library and write while the words are in my head.”

  Roberta opened the writing desk and found a goose-quill ready sharpened and the inkwell fully stocked from her previous visit to the sheets of paper. She lifted one from the drawer and immediately the pen seemed to have a life of its own as the nib flew over the paper.

  My Lord, Marquess of Tiverton―, Sir. It is related to me that you expressly wished me to write this letter―an impertinence I would not have entered into without your leave . . . so distasteful is the writing of it and I do not doubt, the reading of it.

  Firstly be informed that I have faithfully carried out the whole of my duties as wife to your son, and consider myself disgracefully ill-served by the head of the family in return. I will say only this of the insult you have dealt me in the message you required My Aunt, the Lady Caroline, to relate to me―a shameful and most unfraternal task that ever a man has contemplated―Please be informed that I will under no circumstances take any payment, bribe, or favour from you now or in the future.

  Secondly, be informed that I have never committed nor contemplated the sin of adultery and will neither break nor sin upon the vows I made to the Lord My God at the marriage ceremony held on Thursday, September seventeenth in the year of Our Lord Eighteen Hundred and Fourteen aboard His Majesty’s frigate Medusa while off Flushing in the Channel. I will not consent to swear dishonestly in any court against the vows I made to my Maker on that day. None whatsoever.

  However, I am advised that due to the unusual nature and circumstances of the nuptials so carried out that I may find some irregularity in the sacerdotal conduct of the matter, should I request they be investigated by the fathers of the church. Since it is my marriage that we are considering, which is―in the sight of God―no business of yours, I may at some future date request that you not intervene nor in any way attempt to influence the carrying out of this duty. I would also, on point of law, ask you not to slander in any way myself or those who might be acting on my part in the matter . . . neither should you bring any other hardship upon them.

  I sign this letter as your most dutiful and innocent daughter, Roberta. Lady Bond. Nee Stephenson.

  With that, she blotted the ink
from the sand glass, quickly folded the paper into an envelope, wrote the name of the addressee, and sealed it with sealing wax at each corner. Taking only long enough to set the writing implements back in their drawers she went back to the drawing room in the hope that Lady Caroline was still there. She was.

  “May I prevail upon you to return this reply to your Brother?”

  Lady Caroline looked up in some surprise. “It is done?”

  “Yes. Please take it for me.”

  “I will. Perhaps it is better taken from your hand while the ink is barely dry. No time for second thoughts, eh?”

  “No. I have told him my mind.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Letters that Demand

  The first result of her aunt’s visit was a degree of lessening of the isolation within the social class her marriage had introduced her to. While this was not of vital influence in her usual social life, it seemed to gratify her father, and consequently pleased her. The change from pretender and social pariah in the scandalous publicly posted and circulated leaflets that so worried Aunt Nelly, into a wronged, honest, and forthright member of the community had the effect of increasing the respect she received from the local authorities and from other business people. But it was one swallow in Spring; whatever the effect—positive or negative—she immersed herself in work, as always.

  The arrival of two letters soon after Lady Caroline departed presented something of a puzzle until she opened the one from Mr. Holmes. The identity of the Herr Smith on the envelope of the other was soon comprehended, but did not result in her setting down the first to read it. After waiting for a letter from Lord Bond for almost four months, she now felt apprehensive lest it should place demands upon her feelings that she had, she thought, laid to rest.

  Mr. Holmes’ letter was quite short and after a reminder for her to ask permission of Reverend Jenkins to see the marriage license, detailed her husband’s departure for the Continent, the probable route and disembarkation point, and that he intended to write her as soon as his father’s informants in England set to watch him were confounded by the distance.