Savage In Silk

by Donna Comeaux Zide

  After inquiring about Jared and his regiment, Victoria praised the Seventeenth Lancers. “As you might know, child, each of the regiments has a special place in our hearts. The Seventeenth Lancers is the Duke of Clarence’s own regiment, my own dear son’s. It has a gallant and brave history and I assure you your husband’s presence will add to their recorded glory. Now child,” the Queen paused to pat Mariah’s gloved hand, “tell me about America. It’s a place I’ve always wanted to visit.”

  Mariah found herself opening up to the warm maternal curiosity that emanated from the older woman. She described America as well as she could and even confided that her ancestry on her paternal side was Indian, describing the Blackfoot way of life so vividly that Victoria interrupted several times to exclaim over various ideas the Indians held. Finally, the monarch seemed to tire and sensing it, Mariah apologized for monopolizing her time. “I’m afraid I’ve let myself run away, your Majesty. Forgive me if I’ve bored you with detail.”

  “Not at all, not at all, dear. It’s been a fascinating hour. We must do it again, and soon. Perhaps you would come for tea at the palace someday. Don’t let me lose track of you, I’m very interested in your health and that of the loyal subject you’re carrying. You’ve been a breath of fresh air, child, with your candid innocence. Now, if you would find my ladies…they should be right outside. I must talk now with the others.”

  Mariah curtseyed low once more, assuring the Queen the pleasure had been hers. “I’ll look forward to the honor of sharing tea at your Majesty’s pleasure.” She backed from the room, and as Victoria had requested, summoned the ladies-in-waiting for the Queen. As she returned to the reception hall to search for Stuart, Mariah felt curious stares focused upon her, for many had seen her enter the anteroom and had carefully noted the length of the audience she was given.

  Exhilarated by the long discussion and the interest of the Queen, Mariah gracefully walked the length of the hall, undaunted by the attention she was receiving. Finally locating Stuart, she danced once with him and informed him, as she’d promised, that she was feeling a little tired and would like to leave. They waited until an elaborately dressed servant had announced the Queen’s entry and made their obeisances before her. Victoria paused before Stuart and requested he rise, issuing a royal command. "Lord Maubrey, we find your daughter-in-law a most charming addition to our loyal subjects. I’m afraid we wore the poor child out with our many questions; please make sure she is escorted safely home if she feels tired. You have our royal gratitude for taking care of her as she deserves.” With a gracious nod she moved on and Stuart, still not aware of all that had transpired in the anteroom, moved to obey the command.

  On the way home, Mariah confided every detail of the interview she could remember. “Oh, Stuart! I never expected Queen Victoria to be so…so easy to talk with. Though I expect it was out of kindness, she even invited me to tea at the palace!”

  Stuart smiled proudly at her. “The whole room was buzzing with comments about your audience, Mariah. Overnight you’ll be the talk of the town,” he predicted, but he could not know what an impact this afternoon would have upon their lives.

  When over a week had passed since the reception, Mariah dismissed the hope of a royal invitation. Beth had visited the next day, anxious to hear the details and again Mariah had to recite the conversation verbatim. An excited Beth had confided to her, “Everyone is talking about it, Mariah. You’ve become a sensation!”

  Henges, a look of awe unsuppressed on his normally stoic face, reverently handed Mariah an envelope sealed with the royal crest as she sat in the drawing room with Stuart. With a wondering look at her father-in-law, Mariah quickly tore the envelope open, tossing it to one side to reveal a royal command invitation to appear at an afternoon tea on Friday, the fifteenth of February at three o’clock in the afternoon at Buckingham Palace. The invitation included her escort and, of course, that meant Stuart. Amazed that she’d actually received an invitation to tea, she waited a moment before handing the letter to Stuart.

  He put the letter down, noting Mariah’s reaction. “Nothing amazes me when it comes to you, my dear! In almost thirty years of London society, I’ve never received such a royal command. Jared would be shocked to the tips of his boots, to say the least!”

  Of course there was no hesitation about accepting, and Mariah immediately sent a messenger off with an answer.

  On the day of the tea, Mariah hadn’t a trace of anxiety. In fact, she fully intended to enjoy herself. It might be one of the last chances she had to appear in public. Victorian morality was very particular concerning the impropriety of a woman appearing in public after it became obvious that she was “in a delicate position.” For the most part, in the upper strata of society, a pregnancy meant a six-month exile, spent at home with nothing more to do than plan a nursery or supervise a layette.

  Mariah attended with a proud Stuart escorting and, as she’d predicted, she had a marvelous time. A large, formal drawing room had been set aside for the social tea, cluttered with memorabilia from her Royal Majesty’s travels. Here and there a treasured memento was placed beneath a glass bell-dome for protection, and delicate, lace antimacassars lay everywhere.

  It wasn’t possible to have as intimate a chat as they’d shared at the reception, but the Queen managed to catch Mariah aside for a moment and astounded her by informing her that a command had been sent to Lord Raglan, ordering Jared to Lord Cardigan’s official staff. We can’t have you worrying that something will happen in your husband while you’ve other things to concentrate on. Attached to headquarters, he’ll be out of harm’s way.” Mariah was barely able to utter an astonished thank you before Victoria turned her attention to another guest.

  Returning home, Mariah told Stuart of the Queen’s decision and she could hardly contain her happiness. The Queen had also whispered an aside as Mariah curtseyed before departing. Victoria told her that she would be most happy to act as the child’s godmother, if Mariah hadn’t already made that decision. Needless to say, Mariah accepted the honor immediately. As she rejoiced that evening, she had no conception of how irritated Jared would be with the royal command changing his status from active duty.

  Chapter 37

  Drew seemed to spend more time at home now that his brother was away. Mariah found it hard to avoid him without showing her dislike. Finally, one day when she was alone in the drawing room, putting the final touches on a tiny gown for the baby, he entered and sat near her.

  “Mariah, I owe you an apology. I’m afraid I’m prone to rash, impulsive action at times, without a lot of forethought. I presumed too much and…well, I was carried away for a second. Please say you’ll forgive me.” Drew’s expression was boyishly appealing and though she was still wary, Mariah accepted the apology to ease the tension between them.

  “I accept, Drew, as long as you hold to your promise.” She smiled gently and was silent for a few minutes, then broke the silence by inquiring what he’d been doing to keep himself busy.

  “Oh, I gamble a bit, drink a little here and there. The other day I took Lady Stark for a ride on Rotten Row.”

  Mariah was inwardly amused every time she heard the name Rotten Row. Without a doubt, it was the place to ride in London, located in Hyde Park, but the name always called to mind an image of filth. “Lady Lynsey is quite lovely, Drew. Is it anything serious?”

  “No, not really, Mariah. Actually, she reminds me a lot of you. I find myself wishing I’d met you before my brother. Unconsciously I keep searching for the same type of woman. I only hope Jared realizes how lucky he is.”

  Mariah was disconcerted by his admission and would have risen to retire to her room for a midday nap had Henges not appeared with a note for her. Surprised, she opened the plain envelope that bore no return address and as she read the enclosed note, her face drained to a sickly white.

  Drew had been carefully watching her reactions and he leaped to his feet, coming near her. “What’s wrong, Mariah…not bad news, I h
ope?”

  Mariah stared straight ahead in a trance, her hand crumpling the paper, her sewing sliding to the floor. “No, Drew, it’s nothing…she said vaguely. “If you’ll excuse me, I…”

  “Mariah, I insist you tell me what’s wrong! I’ve never seen you so pale. Let me help…if there’s anything I can do.” He put a comforting hand on her shoulder, feeling her tremble beneath his fingers. His other hand forced her fingers open and he took the note. Inwardly, he was entirely satisfied with her reaction. She was falling for it just as he’d planned. If he could make his voice convincing, the rest should be easy. “I can’t believe this, Mariah, who would be cruel enough to write such a note? It’s obviously someone who’s trying to cause trouble between you and Jared.” The scrawled note implied that Mariah was a fool if she believed Jared had been faithful. If she doubted the writer’s word, she would find evidence of Jared’s deception at #7 Morton Street.

  Transfixed, Mariah gazed into the fire and spoke in a detached, expressionless tone. “There must be some truth to it, it’s the house where Jared kept Del as his mistress.” She was in a shocked daze, unable to believe the note and its vicious contents. She reassured herself, over and over, it can’t be, we were happy, he promised. Suddenly anger replaced shock, directed at the person who was cruel enough to play this practical joke. I trust him completely, she thought. Someone who hates us devised this scheme and I refuse to believe such slander. “You may throw the note into the fire, Drew. These scribbled lies will never shake my belief in Jared.”

  Drew panicked for a second, unprepared for this turn of events. She was supposed to fall for it! Desperate, he thought of a quick idea that might convince her. “I’ve an idea that proves Jared couldn’t have kept that house! Let’s check with Gordon, Father’s secretary. He also handles Jared’s accounts. It would show whether or not he continued to pay the lease on the house. That should put your mind to rest, Mariah. It’s better than having this lie nagging at the back of your mind.”

  Brightening, Mariah seized on the idea as a way to ease the knot of tension inside of her. “Yes, Gordon would be able to tell us. Thank you for thinking of it, Drew. I’m afraid my thoughts are muddled now.”

  He took her arm, supporting her as they went off in search of the secretary, finding him in the small office where he kept account records for Lord Maubrey’s estate.

  James Gordon looked the part of a secretary. At fifty-one, he’d been with Lord Maubrey for fifteen years, and his neat desk reflected his organization. A pince-nez balanced precariously on the end of his long nose, ever seeming about to fall, but never doing so. Seeing Lady Carleigh and her brother-in-law enter, he rose respectfully and greeted them, “An honor, Lady Carleigh, Master Andrew, what may I do for you?”

  After Mariah had explained what she was after, Gordon quickly found the correct set of account ledgers. His voice, dry and raspy, seemed to resound in the small room. “Yes, m’lady, here it is…#7 Morton Street, leased by Lord Carleigh in June of last year. The rent was paid…let me see, ah yes, three years in advance. I hope that satisfies your question. Is there anything else I can be of assistance with?”

  Drew thanked him and bustled Mariah from the room. Once in the corridor, she swayed and he caught her, supporting her with both arms.

  “It still doesn’t prove he kept Del on as his mistress, Mariah. Maybe after he kicked her out, he had the place rented,” he suggested.

  An icy composure had settled across Mariah’s face, and only someone who knew her well would have been able to tell she was inwardly shaken. Her eyes stretched wide with stress were the only feature to betray her emotions. “There’s just one way to find out, isn’t there. Drew? I’d appreciate it if you’d accompany me.” She heard him protesting that she shouldn’t excite herself, but ignored the protest. “If you don’t care to come, I’ll go alone,” she insisted stubbornly.

  Falsely reluctant. Drew allowed himself to be persuaded. “If you insist, Mariah, there’s nothing I can do but escort you. Please remember, I warned you not to go!”

  In a short time, they arrived at the dark brick building on Morton Street. Drew tried one more time to dissuade her but failing, he took her arm and showed her to the door. A maid answered and registering shock at their names, showed them to a parlor to wait.

  Mariah sat lost in thought as she waited nervously biting her bottom lip. Drew glared a warning to Del before Mariah became aware of her entry.

  “So, Mariah, we meet again,” Del smirked. “I’m more than surprised by your visit. It must have taken a great deal of control to know of my relationship with Jared and not acknowledge it.”

  Stunned by the brazen attitude, Mariah failed to note for the briefest moment Del’s very obvious pregnancy. It was clear from her rounded stomach, Del was even further advanced than she herself was. It can’t be Jared’s child, she protested silently, I’d have known if he lied to me, if he’d been cheating! “I don’t believe you, you’re lying. Jared broke off with you over six months ago.” Glancing down with a smug smile, Del caressed her swelling belly. “If that’s so, I’ll be the second most miraculous mother in history!” Her painted mouth twisted into mocking laughter. “You always were such a naive, gullible ninny, Mariah. Jared and I spent hours laughing over your stupidity.”

  Del’s gloating was very convincing. “Jared told me how he twisted you around his finger, but I’m afraid I doubted his word. Our child will be born before yours, Mariah. I can’t wait to see Jared’s face as he gazes at the baby. He’s really quite fond of children, considering what a scamp he is!”

  Mariah closed her eyes to wipe the bitch’s triumphant expression from her sight. Inside, she was numb, shaken by the evidence of Jared’s infidelity. She had been naive and gullible, and Del had every right to laugh at her. An overpowering urge to escape swept over her and rising to her feet, she managed to gather the tattered remnants of her pride like a cloak to shield her against further torment. “As Jared’s wife, I refuse to condone your continued presence. Unless you’re packed by the end of the week, Lord Maubrey’s solicitor will serve an eviction notice. Knowing your capacity for survival, you’ll probably be on the streets less than an hour before you have some other poor fool duped!” Mariah gave her no chance to retort, sweeping from the room with more bravado than she felt inside. She missed the reassuring wink Drew cast his conspirator and the mother of his child before he ran to catch up with Mariah. Drew had paid her well to pass off his child as Jared’s, and she had given a superb performance.

  Seated in the carriage, comforted against Drew’s shoulder, Mariah gave in to the near hysteria that had been building since she’d entered the house. She wept, stormed and ranted while Drew did his best to console her. “If she weren’t pregnant by Jared, I wouldn’t believe it, Mariah,” he admitted. “I knew Jared was hard and cynical but to treat you with such contempt; he’s damn lucky he’s not here!”

  Barely aware of his vehement condemnation, Mariah was beginning to feel sharp cramps twist her insides.

  Dear God, she was losing the baby! The pain increased until by the time they reached home, Mariah was panting breathlessly, gasping as each pain eased and then returned, worse than the preceding one. Drew carried her inside and as he hurried her up the stairs, he shouted to a stunned Henges. “For God’s sake, man, get Dr. Simmons immediately! Lady Carleigh’s losing the child.” Laying her gently on her bed, he held her hand until the door burst open and Natalie ran to Mariah’s side.

  The entire house was in an uproar. Henges had sent the maids scurrying for towels and hot water.

  Lord Maubrey, returning from a late business luncheon, was greeted by the overwrought Henges. The old servant had just begun telling him what happened when the knocker sounded again and the doctor was ushered in. Both older men raced up to the second floor, the doctor pausing at Mariah’s room. “I don’t want anyone in the room, I’ll let you all know as soon as possible, your Lordship.” Stuart was left outside to wring his hands nervously and
when Natalie and Drew came out of the room, he pounced desperately on them for information. "What happened, what caused this?” He looked from one to the other. Natalie spoke first, unable to contain her hatred for Jared. “I warned Mariah not to trust him again! She’s losing the baby because of your son’s lust." She left, hurrying down the hall to her own room with tears streaming down her face. Stuart was seized by impatient fury. “Andrew, for God’s sake, tell me what happened! Make some sense out of what that woman just babbled.”

  Drew took his father’s arm, sighing heavily as he drew him toward the stairs. “I think we should go to the library and wait. It would be better if you were sitting down when I explain.”

  Once Stuart was seated, with a strong drink in hand, Drew explained what had taken place. “That’s the work of the son you’re so proud of, Father. Anyone who could hurt Mariah deserves to be flogged! I couldn’t believe it myself until I actually saw that cheap hussy with her belly swollen by Jared’s bastard.”

  Stuart turned an ashen gray; his head sank forward in despair. “It must be a fabrication—I know Jared as well as I know you, son. He couldn’t be responsible, he couldn’t!”

  “Gordon confirmed Jared had kept the house for that slut, long after he’d promised to drop her. Ask him yourself.” He knew of Stuart’s fondness for Mariah and pressed his advantage. “You didn’t see Mariah’s face when she realized the truth; if you had, you’d never want to set eyes on your precious eldest son again! I swear,” he insisted dramatically, “if a Russian bullet doesn’t cut short his rotten life, he’ll have me to deal with when he returns!”