“So much for loving me! If she thinks so little of me that anything like that would have an effect on my marrying her…”
“Yes, well, I’m sure she understands that, now that you are marrying Elizabeth. And listen, Gerard. Don’t go telling anyone about her being adopted. It’s no one else’s business and it’s bad enough that Detective Collins went sniffing around her as though she were a suspect rather than a beloved friend. She doesn’t want everyone to know and she has the right to keep her own affairs private. She’s a Raychester both in the law and in spirit.”
“Right,” he nodded, going back to the task at hand. “Right, of course. No, I wouldn’t tell anyone. I suppose I’m just a bit wounded that she thought she couldn’t tell me.”
“Every woman has secrets, Gerard. Even your Elizabeth. Even me. It’s nothing personal against you that she didn’t want you to know. It’s just…one of those things. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. Perhaps now that you will be married, Rosaline will finally manage to pay some mind to her suitors. It would do my heart good to see the both of you happily settled.”
A polite knock came to the doorframe and they both looked up to find the butler standing patiently in the hall.
“A visitor for the Duke. Detective Collins,” the man intoned.
Gerard glanced at Bridget. He had all but forgotten the investigation in the flurry of activity.
“We shall have to tell him about your move,” Bridget said, standing up. They left the room together, heading down the stairs to the sunny parlor near the front door where Bridget normally received guests.
When they appeared at the door, Detective Collins stood and removed his hat. “Oh good, I had hoped that the Duchess would be here for this, too. Unfortunately, I have some disturbing news,” he said, after bowing politely to both of them.
Gerard felt suddenly shaky. His head swam and he was dizzy, so much so that Bridget seemed to notice because she took his arm and helped him move towards a chair and sit down before seating herself.
“Have you solved the case?” Gerard asked after a moment.
“I don’t know for certain,” The detective said. He was still standing, twisting his hands anxiously in front of him. He noticed himself doing this and forcefully held his arms down to his sides. The nervous energy needed an outlet, however, and he began to pace slightly back and forth.
“Well?” Bridget said rather petulantly. “We are quite busy this afternoon, Detective. I’m sure you understand.”
“Right.” Detective Collins turned to face her. “Well, the Duke may recall how, a while ago, I mentioned that I had turned up a bit of unusual information about Lady Rosaline.”
Gerard looked at Bridget, his eyes widening. “Yes, as a matter of fact, my sister and I were just discussing that. What strange timing.”
Bridget appeared somewhat annoyed by this. “Really, there’s nothing suspicious about being adopted, Detective Collins. Lady Rosaline is a dear friend of our family, no matter the circumstances of her birth.”
Detective Collins finally sat down, balancing his hat on his knee as he positioned himself across from Gerard and Bridget.
“I understand that, Your Grace, and I do hope you understand that I certainly did not intend to offend either you or the Raychesters. However, there were so few avenues for investigation in this case, so little evidence, you understand. To keep myself busy on the case I had to follow any…irregularities. Even the most mundane ones. You know how rigorous my interviews of even the youngest and most innocent of your kitchen maids has been.”
Gerard spoke up. “We understand that you couldn’t allow any pre-supposed notions to stand in the way of your inquiry, Detective Collins. But we already knew about Lady Rosaline’s adoption. You told me about it ages ago and Bridget has known for longer.”
The detective narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “It’s more than that, Your Grace. I have discovered, just today, that Lady Rosaline was not adopted from an orphanage, but rather was picked up off the street by Lord Raychester.”
“He has a soft and caring heart,” Bridget said. “I’m not surprised to hear that this is the case.”
“Yes,” Gerard agreed. “It does seem in keeping with his character to see a young child suffering and take it upon himself to raise her from it.”
“I have spoken with Lord Raychester and his wife and I quite agree. However, the facts of the case were that I knew the history and background of every other person at Stonehill, every maid, every guest, except Lady Rosaline. Having nowhere else to look, I began digging around in the rumor mill of the streets of London where she was found. It seems that, even all these years later, she was remembered.”
The detective produced a folio and pulled out several sheets of paper, which he handed to Gerard. “I have taken down the accounts of several people, a tavern keeper, a chimney sweep, and a few…” he coughed, glancing askance at Bridget, “ladies of the night.”
“I see,” Gerard said, leafing through the pages handed to him.
“Lady Rosaline, or Hester Harlow as she was then known, was rumored to have been escaped from the lunatics asylum,” the detective said.
“Nonsense,” Bridget scoffed. “We’ve known Lady Rosaline for many years and she’s never shown any signs of being a lunatic.”
“I know it may be difficult to hear, Your Grace, but allow me to tell all that I know.” Detective Collins glanced at Gerard, whose knuckles were white where he gripped the wooden arms of his chair.
“Please, Detective Collins. Go on,” he said.
Detective Collins nodded and continued. “Finding these rumors rather incredulous myself, I went to Lord Raychester and asked him if he knew the name of the girl before he had adopted her and had her baptized. He divulged that she had, in fact, been called by the name Hester Harlow. With this information, I visited the asylum and asked if they had ever had a patient by that name.”
“And?” Gerard felt a bit sick, revulsion that a lady he’d known and trusted all these years could have been a murderer all along, mixed with a heavy dose of sympathy for her. He couldn’t help it. The thought of Rosaline, one of his dearest friends, being locked up in an asylum as a child tugged at his heart.
“They had indeed,” the detective said. “Hester Harlow had been brought to the asylum at age eleven and abandoned there by her father, one Joshua Harlow.”
“Her father abandoned her?” Gerard breathed. “Age eleven, Christ, that’s so young. Wasn’t she only twelve when we met her first?” He directed this last question to Bridget.
Bridget had gone quite pale, and she nodded gently as if afraid that too much movement would shatter her. “Yes. She was twelve.”
“Joshua Harlow had brought her to the asylum after the death of his fiancée. Apparently, Hester had attacked her soon-to-be stepmother in a fit of jealous rage that so frightened her father that he couldn’t keep her in the house. She only stayed at the asylum for a short time and soon escaped. While she was there, she was described as a model patient, gentle and obedient. The physicians remembered finding it hard to believe that such a placid young girl had murdered a grown woman.”
“A fit of jealous rage…” Bridget whispered. When Gerard looked at her, he was shocked at the pallor of her face as she raised her hand to cover her mouth. “You don’t think…?”
“Your Grace.” Detective Collins said. “If you don’t mind my asking, where is Lady Rosaline now?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Elizabeth swung the door open wide. In her assurance that it was Gerard who had come back she didn’t think to ask who it was first and was startled by the appearance of Rosaline. She started backwards but recovered quickly.
“Why, Rosaline! How lovely to see you, please come in!” she said, sweeping to the side to allow her entrance.
Rosaline was grinning broadly, and Elizabeth thought that she’d never seen the lady looking more beautiful than she did then. “I’ve just heard about you and Gerard. We are all so reliev
ed.”
Rosaline removed her cloak, the yards of luscious velvet making a deep swishing sound as she draped it over the back of a chair. Elizabeth, meanwhile, rang down for a tea tray to be brought up to the room.
“Everything is happening so quickly,” Elizabeth admitted, sitting down next to Rosaline. “I confess that I am a bit worried how it may look to others. That I may appear capricious and impulsive.”
Rosaline smiled. “Not at all, darling. No one thinks that. It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, you know. And with something as permanent as marriage, of course one must be careful and be absolutely sure of her choice before it is done.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, you’re right. I’m just nervous, you know. I’ve lived in obscurity my whole life. I’m not used to having anyone paying attention to me or my choices or judging me. I’ve always been on my own. I guess in some ways I can be grateful for that. I don’t think I’d trade my upbringing for anything.”
Rosaline’s smile changed somewhat. It seemed to become strained, and Elizabeth sought to clarify. “I only mean, there are certain areas where I’m sure that growing up in the public eye as you have can be most difficult.”
“We all have our hidden struggles,” Rosaline said.
The kitchen girl arrived with a tray heavily laden with a large teapot and two settings. There was also a stack of small sandwiches. She sat the tray down on the table under the window and curtseyed before leaving.
“Bridget sent me over to offer, first of all, our congratulations. But also to let you know that they are feverishly at work getting all the preparations made for you to leave for Hadminster tonight, and to tell you to be ready to be picked up from here when they arrive,” Rosaline said, delicately spooning sugar into her cup.
“Hadminster, tonight?” Bridget still felt as though she were caught in a hurricane, with everything happening all at once. She imagined the carriage ride to the country, with the sun setting over the hills.
“Yes, I tried to convince Gerard that it would be easier to make the trip in the morning, but he is determined to leave at once, even if it means traveling by night.”
“I don’t mind traveling by night. Not if he is with me. And you and Bridget are coming as well? What about Thomas and his father?”
Rosaline used a knife to cut one of the small sandwiches in half, daintily taking a small bite. “I doubt whether the Duke will be able to leave London on such short notice. He will, I assume, be staying at Stonehill with Thomas. Bridget and I will be with you.”
“I see. Well, I must thank you for coming to keep me company while I wait. Having Gerard leave all in a rush just after accepting his hand was quite dizzying. I’m glad to be informed of the plans.”
Rosaline put down the sandwich, looking rather somber all of a sudden. Elizabeth tilted her head to the side curiously.
“Is something the matter?”
“It’s nothing,” Rosaline said, but her brows furrowed slightly and her eyes were downcast.
“Is there something you aren’t telling me?” Elizabeth questioned.
“It’s just…I don’t mean to be one to bring down the atmosphere of the moment but…are you quite sure you want to marry him?”
Elizabeth relaxed her shoulders, sighing. “Oh. Yes, thank you for your concern, but I am quite sure. I wouldn’t change my mind again for the world.”
“I only worry because…well, you have known him such a short time. And you haven’t had the chance to see his darker side. Not really.” Rosaline’s eyes were shining with intensity and she leaned forward, placing one hand on Elizabeth’s knee.
“We all have difficult traits. In fairness, he has not seen my darker side, either. Marriage allows for people’s flaws, as long as there is love enough to sustain us, I have no fears that we will be happy together,” Elizabeth said. She did not fear Gerard’s flaws, but the look in Rosaline’s eyes did cause a little trickle of anxiety to make her shift in her seat.
“You don’t understand,” Rosaline continued in earnest. “Before Christine, there was another lady he loved. He was devoted to her. They were promised to each other for years and years. But then he…he was led astray by Christine’s wiles. You know that I would never speak ill of the dead, but Christine was not the sainted figure that he now holds her to have been. She seduced him—”
“Rosaline, I—” Elizabeth tried to interrupt. There was something desperate in Rosaline’s face and the grip on her knee had grown almost painful.
“No, you must understand me. He abandoned her, Elizabeth. Abandoned the girl he loved, most cruelly, all for a wealthier coquette. That is what men do. They say that they love you and that they will protect you, but they only mean it to last until they find someone better. Someone with more money, someone younger and sweeter. There is no loyalty in men. He’s done it before, and he’ll do it again. He didn’t learn his lesson.”
“His lesson?” Elizabeth tried to pull away from Rosaline, rising to her feet. Rosaline’s grip on her knee became a fistful of her skirt. “Rosaline, you aren’t yourself. You’re frightening me. I know Gerard well enough to know that he couldn’t have had bad intentions in falling in love. These things happen. I thank you again for your concern but…”
“You cannot marry him.” Rosaline said, standing up as well. Elizabeth took an instinctive step backwards. “You will not. He doesn’t belong to you.”
“Rosaline,” Elizabeth scoffed. “Stop this, now. You are being quite rude.”
“He belongs to me, Lizzie. He’s always belonged to me. Ever since we met as children, he has been mine. He loves me.”
Suddenly, Elizabeth understood. Rosaline was the girl he’d been involved with before Christine. Rosaline was jealous. The atmosphere in the room had turned ugly, and Elizabeth wasn’t sure how to diffuse the situation. She tried to speak as calmly and gently as possible.
“He may have, at one time. But he has proposed to me, Rosaline. We will be married tomorrow. Nothing can change that now. I’m very sorry but his past with you has no bearing on the present.” Elizabeth gazed into Rosaline’s face, which had gone pale with great splotches of red at her cheeks. “I’m sorry if I have caused you pain, you must understand that it was unconsciously done.”
In a flurry of movement, Rosaline surged forward, reaching out to strike Elizabeth across the cheek. Elizabeth sucked in a shocked gasp, her head flinging to the side by the unexpected force of the blow. She raised her hand to her stinging cheek and looked up at Rosaline with shocked eyes.
“Rosaline!” she exclaimed. “What’s gotten into you?”
Elizabeth has not been slapped since she was a child in the orphanage, and she was wholly unaccustomed to the stinging humiliation of it. She was embarrassed at being struck by another woman, but more so she was ashamed for Rosaline at showing such a regrettable lack of self-control.
“You cannot have him! I will not be abandoned again! Ever again!” Rosaline cried, and she lifted her hand to strike at Elizabeth again. But this time she did not catch Elizabeth off-guard. Elizabeth saw her arm raising and reached out to grab Rosaline by the wrist. Rosaline twisted and thrashed, her hair falling from its pins as the carefully curled ringlets tumbled around her face.
“Rosaline, stop this!” Elizabeth exclaimed through gritted teeth and Rosaline whipped madly about, grasping at Elizabeth’s hair and pulling it savagely. Elizabeth was so astonished at this sudden outburst that she could only act on impulse, striking back at the feral lady. She felt her fingernails make contact with Rosaline’s face and she scratched, drawing red marks across the lady’s cheek.
Rosaline screeched, suddenly stopping her attack to clutch her cheek. In that time Elizabeth had a chance to fall backwards and hurry to place the couch between herself and Rosaline.
Rosaline looked almost unrecognizable. Her posture was altered, hunched, and so different from the regal, upright carriage that she normally had. Her hair was wild and sweat beaded along her hairline.
When Rosaline had recovered somewhat from the shock and pain of being so savagely scratched, she looked up at Elizabeth with eyes that could only be described as animalistic. Then she let loose with a string of curses that Elizabeth was shocked to hear coming out of the lady’s mouth.
All in a rush, Rosaline leapt at Elizabeth again, this time ensnaring her hands around Elizabeth’s neck. As Elizabeth’s airway constricted, it hit her.
“You,” she croaked, once again tearing at her own neck in an attempt to free herself from strangulation. “You killed Christine.” Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper.
She remembered the ball, the champagne she had drank. It was Rosaline who brought it to her. She remembered the silk scarf used in the strangulation attempt. Rosaline had been there all the time, lurking at Stonehill, keeping an eye on her. Pretending to be supportive. Pretending to be a friend, only to stay near enough to Elizabeth to be sure that she never married Gerard.
Wild Passions of a Mischievous Duchess Page 25
