The Governess's Scandalous Marriage

by Helen Dickson

  ‘Yes, yes, she does. I’m so sorry, my dear,’ Mrs Marsden said, sympathetically. ‘I cannot tell you any more than I have. You must ask Lord Blakely. You have a right to be told.’

  Linnet was confused by what Mrs Marsden had told her about Selina. When she had given birth to Christian’s daughter, being an honourable man, why had he not married her? Unless, of course, she was married to someone else. And what was she doing in Egypt? Unless, unable to bear being apart from her, she had accompanied him when he had travelled there to sort out his father’s affairs.

  That he had made love to her, Linnet, and told her he wanted to marry her had made her happy. She believed he did care for her and that his fondness was growing into something deeper and stronger. Their loving had delighted her and it had seemed satisfying to Christian. She had been encouraged by it and believed they would have a good marriage and that in time he would grow to love her—when all the time he was grieving for the mother of his child so much that he could never love another. She had married him knowing he didn’t love her—and now she knew why.

  And what of this woman, Selina? Had he given to her what she wanted—his whole inner self a man gives to the one woman he loves? She, Linnet, had given him her heart, although she supposed he was not aware of it. In fact, she had given him the sum and substance of herself.

  In wretched disbelief she got up and went to the window, so Mrs Marsden couldn’t see how her disclosure had upset her. She stared out of the window, feeling a great sense of loss.

  The window was at the front of the house, overlooking the drive that led down to the road so she saw the moment when the army officer left. She waited a while, hoping Christian would come looking for her or send word that he wanted to see her. After waiting a little longer, unable to quell her curiosity any longer, she went in search of him. He was in the library, looking into the fire in the hearth, deep in thought.

  Entering and closing the door behind her, she leaned against the cold wood, looking at him.

  ‘Your visitor has left, Christian. What did he want?’

  Half-turning, he glanced at her. ‘Nothing—nothing to concern you.’

  Linnet was hurt by the direct snub. She let her eyes dwell on his face. How well he shielded his thoughts. ‘Does it concern Alice’s mother, Selina?’

  Christian’s face twisted and darkened. ‘Leave it, Linnet. I have no wish to discuss it. I have just learned that Alice’s mother—Selina—is dead,’ he bit out. Pushing a hand, which had a curious tremble in it, through his thick hair, he turned to look at her, his face blank. ‘And now if you have nothing further to say I would be obliged if you would grant me a few moments to myself.’

  His face was set hard. It was as if he had thrown a bucket of cold water over her. She stared at him with huge, bewildered eyes. ‘And I will not be so easily put off,’ Linnet was quick to retort, trying not to think of the woman—dear God—the woman he had clearly loved so much, a woman who had borne him a child, a woman he still mourned. The thought was so terrible, so profoundly hurtful, she didn’t want to think about it. ‘I am sorry she is dead, truly, but you should not have kept the fact that she was still alive from me. It was cruel and despicable. How did you think I would react when I found out?’

  ‘Selina’s death will make no difference to how things are between us.’

  Could this be Christian speaking to her? Linnet asked herself. She had never heard him use that tone of voice before. Lowering her eyes, she smoothed the skirts of her gown with a hand that shook. Her dejection was caught by Christian. The muscles worked in his cheek as his jaw tightened and he turned and strode to the window. With his rigid back to her, his shoulders taut, he thrust his hands into his pockets. Angry with him for shutting her out, she straightened.

  ‘I beg to differ, Christian. I feel it does—very much so, as it happens. Excuse me. I, too, wish to be by myself for a while.’

  It was with a heavy, aching heart that she returned to her room. Changing into travelling clothes and ordering the carriage, she went down the hall. Christian came out of the library. Seeing she had changed her clothes, he frowned.

  ‘Are you going somewhere?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you mind telling me where?’

  ‘To see my brother.’

  ‘Today?’

  ‘Yes, Christian, today.’ Pulling on her gloves, she looked at him. ‘Do you have anything to tell me?’

  ‘No. Should I?’

  ‘Not if you choose not to. You have met that particular gentleman before—the army officer?’

  ‘We have never met.’

  ‘Did he know Alice’s mother personally—the woman who ran off to India with a soldier, abandoning her daughter?’

  Christian went white. ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘I asked Mrs Marsden. Poor woman didn’t want to tell me, but I persuaded her. Anyway, I can imagine that what the tragic news the army officer came here to impart has upset you grievously and given you food for thought, so I’ll leave you to think it over.’

  ‘Have a care what you say, Linnet. What time will you be home?’

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t had the chance to talk to Toby for a while—there wasn’t time at the wedding. I may decide to stay at Birch House tonight. If I do, I’ll send a message.’

  ‘Stay over? Linnet, we have not been married twenty-four hours and already you are planning to separate yourself from me. You are my wife.’

  The authority and the arrogance with which he spoke infuriated Linnet. ‘Then you should have shown me that courtesy,’ she threw back at him fiercely. ‘Prior to our marriage you should have told me about Selina—the mother of your child. You led me to believe she was dead, that she died in childbirth. That you didn’t was deceitful and despicable.’

  ‘Have you come to hate me in such a short time, Linnet?’

  ‘I don’t hate you, Christian. I happen to love you—very much, as it happens—but I must be given time to think through how best to deal with this. In the meantime, with time to myself, I will then be able to determine my desires and hopes for the future.’

  Christian’s eyebrows rose in amazement, then dropped swiftly and ferociously into a frown. He crossed the hall towards her. ‘Stop this foolishness. There’s no need for all this melodrama.’

  ‘Melodrama? I am many things, but never dramatic. What were you thinking? You must have known I would find out about Selina some time. Now, excuse me. The carriage is ready.’ She turned from him and walked to the door.

  ‘Linnet—wait...’

  She turned. ‘Don’t, Christian. Not now.’

  She went out and closed the door. Climbing into the waiting carriage, she tucked the woollen travelling rug over her knees. She had learned many things since her father had died. Now she’d learned another, too. Anger was a great hardener and it was this that stopped her asking the driver to turn back.

  Chapter Ten

  Toby was surprised when she turned up at Birch House without her husband. Unfortunately he was about to leave for Richmond so they had no time to talk. On a sigh Linnet waved him off. Feeling the need to get out of the house, she walked through the gardens to the field beyond, with nowhere particular in mind. She was beginning to feel that something momentous had happened and that her life had changed beyond recall. She felt the cold of the late autumn weather, the sudden breeze that rose and stirred the grass, swayed the trees and went searching and whispering through the branches and dry leaves.

  * * *

  Four hours after Linnet had stormed out of the house, Christian had gone through a fog of desolation. He knew that the combination of not being honest with her and his attitude had hurt her. He supposed it had been arrogant of him to assume he could keep what had happened to him in life from her. He shouldn’t have. He should have been straight with her from the start.

  He recalled t
heir wedding night, thinking of her incredible passion when she had lain in his arms, her sweetness, how she had driven him mad with desire. She was like a drug to his senses that he could not name, but could not get enough of. She had fed his hunger and ever since she had left, a dull listlessness had followed him. There was something in Linnet that calmed him, that moved him imperceptibly away from the misery which had caused him so much pain and desolation in the past.

  For most of his life anger and resentment had kept him going. He had fed on them for so long that they were the only emotions he recognised, the only ones he still knew how to feel. But Linnet Osborne had done the impossible. She had given joy to his life and brought him peace.

  His life before she had entered it had been empty. And then she had come and suddenly he felt feelings he had never believed existed and saw things he had never seen before. She had resurrected a part of him that had been dead for many years and given him strength and a reason to look forward to the future rather than flounder in his past. He realised how much she had come to mean to him and so, driven by need and desperation and the desire to look upon her face once more, he left for Chelsea.

  * * *

  Having followed his wife to Birch House to try to make amends, Christian found her sitting on a fallen log in the field beyond the garden. She didn’t turn when he approached but, seeing her back stiffen, he knew she was aware of his presence. Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, he propped his back against a tree, his narrow gaze trained on her. Having half-expected to find her in a distressed state, he was surprised to find her looking unruffled.

  * * *

  When she turned and looked at him, Linnet saw Christian was wearing the same grim expression she had seen when she had last seen him. He looked strained with the intensity of his emotions, but slowly, little by little, he was getting a grip on himself. His shoulders were squared, his jaw set and rigid with implacable determination, and even in this pensive pose he seemed to emanate restrained power and unyielding authority. There was no sign of the relaxed, laughing, loving man who had married her the day before, who had kissed her and made love to her so ardently last night.

  ‘I’m glad to have found you alone.’

  ‘Toby’s gone to Richmond. He won’t be back tonight. What do you want, Christian?’

  ‘I want to apologise for my boorish behaviour. I spoke to you in a way that I am ashamed of.’

  ‘Ashamed, Christian?’ she uttered coolly, giving him no help. ‘I am certain there is nothing for you to be ashamed of. As for apologies—don’t you agree it is a little late to withdraw anything you may have said—or not said—to me?’

  ‘Please, Linnet,’ Christian said in a low, rapid tone. ‘I know I spoke hastily and you have every right to be angry. I was stunned when I found out about Selina’s death.’

  ‘I imagine you were. She was Alice’s mother, after all.’

  Christian wanted to shake her. He knew she was playing a part. He believed that behind the bright expression and glib speech the real, warm, passionate Linnet was still to be found. That army officer coming to the house had angered him to such a degree that he had vented his anger on her and driven the woman he loved underground. Shrugging himself away from the tree, he went and sat beside her on the log, taking hold of her hand, encouraged when she didn’t snatch it away.

  ‘I shall not be happy until you tell me you forgive me.’ He smiled crookedly at her, willing her to respond in the old way.

  ‘I will tell you whether or not I will forgive you when you have taken me into your confidence and told me the truth about Selina.’

  ‘I want to tell you everything. I owe you that at least. I should have told you everything at the beginning. I promise it will be the truth.’

  Linnet gazed at him. ‘I sincerely hope so, Christian.’

  ‘It’s difficult to know where to begin.’

  Linnet settled herself next to him, crossing her legs, watching him calmly, her heart going out to him. ‘At the beginning would be a good place to start. But tell me first what has happened to Selina.’

  He nodded. ‘She died in India—a riding accident, apparently. She was killed outright.’

  ‘I’m sorry. How awful—particularly for Alice.’

  ‘She will be told what happened to her mother, but not just now. Keeping everything to myself has only made matters worse between us. I can see that now. I want to tell you everything that has affected my life—Selina, Alice, my parents.’

  ‘You must miss them—your parents.’

  ‘My mother, yes. As far as my father was concerned, no. We were not close.’

  Thinking of his father darkened his mood. He turned his head away, but the tension pulsating from him began to play on Linnet’s nerves. She wished that he would open up to her about his family and why he felt such antipathy for his father. She felt sure it had something to do with his time in Egypt.

  Her anger diminishing, Linnet looked tenderly into his eyes. ‘Tell me about him, Christian. I realise that you are entitled to your privacy and, if you choose not to talk about it, it is your decision. But until you face what happened and allow me, as your wife, to understand, you will never be at peace. Tell me why he made you unhappy. Did your father hurt you?’ His expression turned glacial. She knew she should heed the warning in her head, but ploughed on regardless. ‘Why do you hate him?’

  ‘Hate? I didn’t hate him, but I hated his inconsistency and his heartlessness. There were issues between us that were unresolved when he died.’ This was his only response, but his eyes were full of secrets, as unyielding as cold, hard steel.

  ‘Was he hard on you?’

  ‘There was not the affection that should exist between father and son. He always demanded a great deal from me. He hated Park House. He always said it was too confining, too demanding. He scorned the long traditions that automatically make a man lord and master in his own house, regardless of his competence—or incompetence.’

  ‘But is that not how it is in every house?’

  ‘Sadly, yes. The law decrees that any greedy, self-seeking fool is entitled to chance the well-being of his family on the outcome of a horse race, or wager their safety on the turn of a card. With my father, the well-being of his family was decided by his obsession to follow his own interests and to hell with everyone and everything that had to do with Park House. Because he was the head of the house my mother and I were subject to his every whim. At every opportunity he was off on one of his archaeological digs, be it Egypt or some other place where there was something of interest to be dug up. From an early age he insisted I learn all there was to running the estate. Fortunately we had a loyal staff—some had worked on the estate in my grandfather’s time. I learned more from them about the running of things than I did from my father.’

  ‘What about your mother? Did she mind him being away for such long periods?’

  He nodded. ‘She adored him. He didn’t deserve her love. He was free to take advantage of the many privileges of position and his sex, the woman he so casually abused no more free to question his authority than the menials who worked in his house. He had a weakness for beautiful women—his affairs were notorious.’

  ‘Did your mother know?’

  ‘Oh, yes, she knew. There was nothing she could do about it. Her submissiveness to his amoral behaviour was something I was never able to understand. It infuriated me when she tried to make excuses for him. I wanted her to stand up to him, to berate him. He humiliated her, spurned and shamed her. All my life I tried to ignore what he was doing, getting on with the running of Park House and looking after my mother, while all the time resentment was burning inside me because of his indifference and his neglect.’

  ‘And Selina? You must have loved her for her to have borne you a child. Did you know her family?’

  ‘She came from a military family in Berkshire. The first time I saw her
was in London.’ He paused, thinking over his next words, aware that he was about to shock her. ‘Selina was my father’s mistress, Linnet. Not mine. My father was a fool. He believed she loved him—for how persuasive and soothing her voice could be. I saw through her as soon as I set eyes on her. I found it hard to grasp the guile behind her soft smiles and fond words. My father did not realise for a moment what weight of treachery they concealed. She was ambitious and always looking for the main chance—a woman not to be trusted. Finding herself with child, she followed my father to Egypt.’

  Aghast at what he was telling her, Linnet stared at him in horror. ‘She was your father’s mistress?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  She looked at his proud, lean face, moved by the pain that edged his voice. ‘And you are still tortured by what they did to you, I can see that.’

  ‘Selina inspired me with nothing but disgust and loathing. As long as I live I shall never forget the day when I saw her with my father—how much my mother was hurting. It sickened me.’

  ‘And Alice?’

  Still holding her hand, he raised it to his lips, taking a moment to consider his next words. ‘You will have gathered by now that Alice is my half-sister, not my daughter as I would have had you and everyone else believe—although I never lied to you about that. I can’t ever remember saying she was my daughter. When my father died and I went to Egypt to sort out his affairs, Selina was living in Cairo—or so I thought. Before I left Egypt I went to the house where she was living with Alice—paid for by my father—although he rarely visited. His work came before anything else. Alice was five years old. I sent a letter informing Selina of my intended visit. As much as I hated what she and my father had done, I could not forget that Alice was of my flesh and blood—an innocent. I had a responsibility towards her. Mrs Marsden, who had been taking care of Alice from birth, put me in the picture. Apparently there was a new man in Selina’s life—a captain in the British Army. He’d been posted to India. Selina had gone with him, leaving Alice with Mrs Marsden—the Captain didn’t want any encumbrances and insisted she left Alice behind. Before she left she told Mrs Marsden she didn’t know when she would be back—if ever.’