“And who is this lovely young lady?” Tobin’s mother asked, drawing Bridget’s attention back to the present. Tobin’s mother was younger than Bridget had expected. She had fair, strawberry-gold hair and bright blue eyes. She was still very handsome, but Tobin certainly looked like his father.
“Mam, this is Miss Bridget Murphy, my betrothed. Bridget, my mam, Mrs. Clara Brennan.”
Bridget was surprised to hear him announce her so to his mother. She was also surprised when the lady took her hands and pulled her into an embrace.
“You poor dear. You have lost someone recently?”
“My father and brother at Waterloo,” Bridget answered softly.
Mrs. Brennan pulled her arm through Bridget’s and slipped the other into Tobin’s. “Let us go inside. We have much to catch up on. I cannot tell you the relief I feel to see your face, Tobin. I have been reading the papers every day for the past ten years with the greatest anxiety.”
They were soon seated in a small parlour that was neat, if a little shabby. A woman of all work entered with tea and some biscuits on a wooden tray. Bridget had no doubt she had noticed their grand carriage arrive.
“How have you been, Mam?” Tobin asked. His mother was still holding onto his hand, Bridget noticed, as if she did not believe he was real. Bridget took the liberty of pouring the tea and handing it to everyone.
“Tadhg died, but you have heard. I received your letters and your money, which has kept me comfortable. Rachel has two bairns now, but I know she has written to you.”
Tobin muttered under his breath as he nodded.
“What made you decide to become an officer? I know your father offered to purchase you a commission and you refused.”
Tobin was uncomfortable speaking about himself, Bridget could see. “Circumstances made it necessary… and it did not come from Wrexford.”
“I read that his heir died last year,” Mrs. Brennan said.
“We have just come from there. We are… ah… becoming acquainted. I did not seek him out. He was at General and Captain Murphy’s funeral at Dungarvan. He invited us to visit.”
Bridget watched both of their faces as subtly as she could. Mrs. Brennan looked frozen, as if turned to stone.
Tobin let out a big sigh. “Wrexford is trying to have me declared legitimate so I can take his place one day.”
Mrs. Brennan gasped and held her free hand to her mouth. “Is that even possible?” She looked bewildered.
“I do not know. I am not sure I even wish for it,” he said candidly.
Mrs. Brennan stood and began to pace across the small room. “Would that mean my marriage was reinstated?”
Tobin glanced at Bridget with worry. “Would that be a horrible thing?” he asked.
“Oh, Tobin. It was so long ago. He has sent me letters through the years, mostly asking after you and providing funds for you, once he knew of you. I received one last month but I have not had the courage to open it for fear it was bad news of you.”
The poor woman! Bridget knew she could not have stayed behind and sent her husband off to war.
“Perhaps you can open it without fear, now,” Tobin said with his familiar grin. “As you can see, I am whole.”
Mrs. Brennan walked back over to him and touched his face lovingly. “Injured, but still in one piece.” She ran her finger down the scar on the side of Tobin’s head as though it were a delicate flower.
“You have Miss Murphy to thank for that. She was brought up following the drum and has nursed many soldiers over the years. She has acquired some handy doctoring skills too, I might add.”
Mrs. Brennan’s attention settled back on Bridget. “Your losses were recent. Are you quite alone now? Tobin mentioned the funeral at Dungarvan. You are a relation?”
“I am Lady Dungarvan’s niece. My father was the late Lord Dungarvan’s second brother.”
“You met in the army?” she asked.
“Tobin worked with my brother on the Duke of Wellington’s staff. Patrick introduced us at a ball.”
“You appear to be well suited, indeed.” His mother beamed at both of them. “You have no idea how I have prayed for his safety and happiness. I am delighted he has found a good woman.”
Bridget’s heart was hurting to be deceiving this woman.
“I hope you intend to make an honest woman of her soon, son. You cannot gallivant around with a gently bred lady without sullying her reputation.”
Tobin gave her a pointed look. How the tables had turned!
“It is I who chose to wait, ma’am. I wished to see the outcome of the ruling over his legitimacy. He might wish to pick a bride more suited to his station if he becomes Kilmorgan of Wrexford.”
“Balderdash! If I know my son, his heart would not be so inconstant.”
“Thank you,” Tobin said with a wry grin at Bridget. “Do you not wish to open the letter from Wrexford?”
Mrs. Brennan looked at a piece of folded parchment lying on the small writing desk in the corner.
“I suppose it could not hurt, now.” She picked it up and slid her finger under the seal before unfolding the pages and reading them. Tears were streaming down her face, accompanied by an occasional whimper, before she handed the letter to Tobin to read out loud.
My dearest Clara,
You may be wondering why I would write to you at a time like this, when it seems there is so much time lost. Our son is a grown man, after all. Firstly, as last I heard, he is well and alive and serving on Wellington’s personal staff as a lieutenant. He has done well for himself, Clara.
Secondly, my condolences on the loss of your second husband. I hope he was able to make you happy. Thirdly, and to my point, I also lost my one and only son by my second wife. He was my heir. This brings me back to a painful episode in both of our lives, when our young love was torn asunder by my father. Tobin was born after the marriage was annulled, if my estimations are correct, and before I married again. I would ask that you send his certificate of birth so my efforts at instating him as my heir will be smoother. I have applied to Parliament, but the case will not be heard until the next session. Of course, there is the not insignificant matter that our marriage might well be re-instated as a result. Would this be an unpardonable insult to you, dear Clara? I would make you as comfortable as you wish, wherever you may wish, and you need not have any contact with me should you not desire it.
I await your assistance in righting a great wrong for our son.
Ever yours, etc.
Wrexford
Bridget moved to sit next to Mrs. Brennan, who had slumped onto the sofa and was trembling. Bridget put an arm around her and held her close while they listened. It was quite shocking news even though Bridget had heard it before. What would it feel like to think your marriage of a quarter of a century ago was still valid? It did not bear thinking of. She had lived another life with another man since then because Wrexford’s family had abandoned her with a baby on the way—and now she might be a countess?
Tobin finished the letter and knelt down before his mother. She shook her head and wiped her tears away. Tobin held his handkerchief up to her face.
“You do not have to do anything you do not wish,” he whispered to her.
“It is just such a shock. Of course, I wish for you to take your rightful place. Of course, I do.”
She stood up, and walked back to her desk. Taking a Bible from a drawer, she opened the cover and pulled out two slightly yellowed pieces of paper. She handed them to Tobin. “Your certificates of birth and baptism.”
Tobin nodded as he took the papers and placed them inside his coat pocket.
“What else should I do?” she asked, completely disconcerted.
“You will come to the wedding, I hope, Mam?” Tobin asked quietly, with a wink at his mother Bridget did not miss. It brought a smile to Mrs. Brennan’s face, which was doubtless his intent.
“Of course, son.”
“Would you be willing to come back with us? We are goi
ng to London.”
“I cannot yet. I need time to consider.”
Tobin scowled his disappointment. Bridget doubted he realized it.
His mother hastened to reassure him. “I will come for the wedding, son.”
Chapter 16
Tobin and Bridget arrived back at Wrexford very late that night. It had been difficult to leave his mother there alone. He hoped he could convince her to live with them once they were married. He was surprised to find Wrexford still awake and waiting for them. Bridget excused herself to retire, but Wrexford wanted to talk. Tobin followed him into his study and accepted a glass of whisky before they sat down.
“How was your visit, son?”
“Successful, I think. I have both the birth certificate and the proof of my baptism. I could not convince her to return with us.”
“I was secretly hoping she would come,” Wrexford said, with obvious disappointment.
“You still care for her?” Tobin asked with surprise.
“How could I not?”
“I meant no offence. I suppose what your father did to you was difficult for both of you. I think Mam will come around, but you might need to woo her. She had not opened your letter until we arrived. She thought it was bad news about me from the war.”
A look of pain crossed Wrexford’s face. “I knew I should have gone in person. I was afraid she would refuse to see me.”
Tobin was affected deep inside by his father’s reaction. He really did care for his mother.
“Will she come for the wedding?”
“If there will be a wedding.” Tobin shook his head, then sipped his drink.
“Do not lose heart, son. There have been many changes in Bridget’s life. Be a support to her and things will work out as they should.” His father drained his glass and then stood up.
“We both need to rest since we leave for London tomorrow.” They said their good nights and Tobin fell asleep thinking he needed to take his own advice and woo Bridget. He had to convince her that nothing would change except being able to support her. That should be a strong point in his favour, not a mark against him, surely?
It seemed strange to be heading back to England so soon, but Tobin had not really planned any farther than seeing Bridget settled. He was still very angry on her behalf at the way her family had treated her. He knew they had been the ones to steal her money, but how could he prove it?
They were able to reach Portsmouth by late afternoon, due to a favourable easterly wind. There they took rooms for the evening and journeyed on to London the next day in a post chaise. Tobin hoped he would not have to travel again for some time. It was unpleasant being cramped in a small conveyance when he was used to the freedom of riding everywhere.
Bridget had said little the entire trip, and Tobin did not force her. He wished she would talk to him like she used to, though. He was not good at speaking about his feelings, choosing silence or sarcasm instead. He had learned to bottle up what bothered him, as if locking it away inside would make it go away. He did not know Bridget well enough to know if this was how she dealt with grief or if she was shutting him out because that was what she thought was best for him.
“Will you both stay at Wrexford House?” his father asked.
“I thought you would be more comfortable at Waverley Place, since you and the Duchess are friends,” Tobin said to Bridget.
“Is that what you wish, my dear?” Wrexford asked her.
“I would prefer to go to my father’s house. I still have many belongings there and as we are not married, I think it is for the best. We cannot go on in London as we have done elsewhere.”
“That is certainly the case,” Wrexford agreed, “although being betrothed allows more freedom. But you intend to go to the house alone?”
“I will have my maid, and our old retainers are still there. At least, I assume they are,” she said with a frown. “Hopefully the solicitor did not dismiss them.”
“May we set you down at your home, sir, and then I will see Bridget settled?” Tobin suggested.
“If that is your wish, my dear. There is plenty of room for you should you change your mind.”
“Thank you for your many kindnesses to me, sir,” Bridget said to Wrexford. Tobin climbed back into the carriage after they had let his father out on Bruton Street.
“Is this what you really want, lass?” Tobin asked as they rolled on to the town house Bridget had shared with her father and brother.
“I do not know what I want any more, except to rewind the clock a month and assassinate Napoleon before Waterloo began,” she replied with a spark of fury.
“I wish I had thought to do that,” Tobin agreed.
“I think some time alone will benefit both of us. I need to sort through Father’s and Patrick’s belongings and speak with a solicitor.”
“I hope you do not mean to ignore me.” He gave her a pointed look, which drew a small smile from her. “I do not think the Duchess will be pleased with you choosing to stay here alone. I do not like it myself, but I understand it.”
“Thank you,” she said and reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. “I do think I am safe from my relatives now, Tobin. It is not necessary for us to marry. Consider yourself free. I have no doubt, once you are the wealthy heir to the Wrexford title, you will have pretty ladies lining up to be courted.”
“Is that supposed to entice me, mo álainn? I am tempted to kidnap you and drive on to Gretna.”
“Do be serious, Tobin. I am trying to ease your conscience.”
“Then ye are failing. I do not want to be free of ye.” He looked at her, incredulous, his brogue slipping.
“If you are trying to hold me to everything I said when I thought you were unconscious, please forget it. Everything has changed since then.” She crossed her arms and looked out of the window.
“Some things have changed, true enough… but only my being slightly more eligible. Besides, what would you do? How would you support yourself?”
“Must you ask such a thing? You know I have no answer to that until I speak with the solicitor.”
“Please tell me you consider me a better choice than Riordan,” he retorted.
“Do not even jest about that,” she snapped.
“If you have changed your mind about me, then say so. I plan to use this time to woo you properly.” What was going on here?
“I am in mourning.”
“I was not suggesting anything inappropriate, unfortunately.” He smiled devilishly.
The carriage stopped before they could argue further. Tobin could not believe how stubborn Bridget was being about this. He climbed down from the carriage, assisted Bridget to the pavement and with her maid following, walked his betrothed up the steps to the narrow stone house that stood five storeys high in a row of terraced homes.
Dusk had already fallen and the other homes had some sort of light in them, but this one had no knocker on the door and no other sign of inhabitance. Tobin did not have a good feeling about this, though with the master gone to war and two older retainers living there, perhaps they were simply at the back of the house. He knocked on the door and waited several minutes, but there was still no answer.
“Perhaps we should try the servant’s entrance,” Bridget suggested. “I do not think Mr. and Mrs. Brown would be expecting anyone.”
“Do you have a key, lass?”
“No, perhaps there is one in my father’s trunks. Wait, we did keep one in the flower box.” She walked over to one of the first floor windows and felt beneath one of the boxes. She shook her head.
Tobin climbed down the iron-railed stone steps to the servants’ and tradesmen’s entrance. He knocked on the door there, but it was also complete darkness, and again, there was no answer.
“Perhaps they are gone away on holiday. I have not written to warn them to expect me, after all,” Bridget reasoned.
“Either way, we must see you settled somewhere tonight. We can investigate on the morrow. Would you be m
ore comfortable with the Duke and Duchess or at Wrexford’s house?”
Bridget stared at him for a moment in disbelief. It did seem as though nothing was going right for her. “It matters little to me.”
“Very well.” He held out his hand to direct the ladies back into the carriage. Tobin thought Bridget would be more comfortable with another lady than in a bachelor house, although she had lived with her father and brother for some time. It seemed more proper, somehow, for her to be with the Duchess. Perhaps she would know how to bring some happiness back into Bridget’s life.
It was only a few streets to Waverley Place. The butler recognized Tobin and admitted them immediately.
“Tobin!” the Duke and Duchess exclaimed as the butler announced them. Their Graces came across the room at once and welcomed them with open arms.
“We were not expecting to see you here, though you are very welcome,” the Duchess said. “In fact, we were wondering when we would be summoned to Ireland for a wedding.”
Tobin watched Bridget blush.
“I was just telling him there is no need for us to marry now. It seems he is to be his father’s heir soon if not the heir to the title.”
“That is incredible news, Tobin,” the Duke said, looking as surprised as Tobin had felt when his father had first broken the news to him.
“Father has brought me here to parade me around in hopes of convincing the Members of Parliament that I am worthy to be a peer. Bridget had hoped to stay at her family’s house, but it was locked and none of the servants answered.”
The Duke frowned. “When I last spoke to the Browns there was no plan for them to leave. We can speak to these solicitors tomorrow and see if they know anything.”
“Thank you, I would appreciate that,” Bridget said.
Tobin had agreed to return to Wrexford House and so, with reluctance, he left Bridget, promising to return the next day.
Bridget tried not to show her anxiety when her home had been locked up, but she knew something was wrong. Dungarvan had a hand in this, she knew—but could she prove it? And what could she do in the meantime? It was frustrating being a female at times. She highly doubted anyone would speak to her without a gentleman present. There had to be a way to get into her house. She would go back again tomorrow and try. Perhaps—no, hopefully—Waverley had missed something.
An Officer, Not a Gentleman: A Traditional Regency Romance (Brethren in Arms Book 3) Page 15
