“Ah, Mother, your eyes are moist. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She shook her head. “Please go on, Jack. You were only eighteen when you left to become a man, determined to make your way in the world through your own efforts. I was proud of you then, but I can’t tell you how proud I am of you today. As Odette must be.”
“Odette doesn’t like me to talk of the fact I’m adopted. She’d rather no one knew.”
“She should be proud of you for having become a man of substance through your own efforts.”
“Trade, Mama?”
“The East India Company is hardly trade. It’s what made her father the wealthy man he is today.”
“Ideally, I’d be landed gentry, like Uncle Rufus, and have inherited my pile. Still, it’s not stopped her wanting to be my wife. I was afraid of her reaction when I told her, but it seems she’d set her cap at me long before. It was a shock she digested.” Quickly, before his mother could speak, he changed the subject. “And Katherine will always be my friend, Mother. Early friendship lasts forever. I hope she’ll be happy with Lord Derry. They knew one another before she married Freddy Marwick as he was then.” Jack grinned, remembering those early churnings of adolescent jealousy even though he and Katherine had both discussed the impossibility of their being together. “I disapproved of Marwick and Derry and I told her so, though who was I to offer my opinion? I didn’t think she’d be happy with either. Lord, it was a great blow to hear she’d eloped with Marwick the very day I set sail for the West Indies.”
“You felt…wounded?”
“I know, I know.” He sighed. He certainly didn’t want to be too transparent, yet talking about it made him realise how much it had rankled. “I had no right to feel anything, did I? Just as I have no right to feel anything now that she’s soon to wed Lord Derry, from all accounts.”
“Of course not, as you have been betrothed to Odette for the past six months,” his mother said pointedly.
It was the salutary reminder he needed, and briskly, he nodded, patting her on the arm as he said, “Indeed I am. And soon I will be the happiest husband in England.”
He wished his mother hadn’t looked with such doubt upon him as she responded, “I hope so, Jack. I truly hope so.”
For it simply reinforced his own doubts about this marriage, and the knowledge there was no way out now.
But why that should trouble him, he had no idea. He repeated the old mantra silently. Odette was the ideal wife: pretty, lively, loving. Yes, devoted. Sometimes, he felt, too devoted.
Chapter 21
Fanny looked up in surprise as the drawing room door was thrust open and her friend, who’d left not long beforehand, returned from her walk, saying, “Katherine’s not here, is she? No? That’s good.”
“My dear Eliza, what is it? You look quite discomposed, which is not at all like you.”
Concerned, Fanny rose and plumped up a cushion on the chair opposite her before deciding it was as good a time as any for a glass of something more fortifying than tea.
“This morning, you may have noticed, I was suddenly deeply unsettled by an unexpected discovery, and when I took Diana for a walk in order to prove that my suspicions were groundless, I met Jack, who only confirmed them.” Eliza fanned herself while waving away the claret that Fanny had poured.
“Eliza, you’re talking in riddles!”
Fanny wished her brother Bertram hadn’t chosen that moment to enter the room. Eliza had been about to divulge something of great importance, but she’d hardly do that with her indiscreet and bumbling brother in attendance.
“Oh, I’ll have Eliza’s if she doesn’t want it.” Bertram plucked the glass from Fanny’s hand and went to lean against the mantelpiece. As usual, his collar was too high and stiff—Bertram thought it made him look important—and his checked trousers on the garish side. Bertram had always embraced fashion as if he couldn’t decide whether he was a gentleman or wanted to join the theatre. “So, what was this you were telling my sisters about your unsettling discovery, Eliza? It’s about Katherine, eh? You’ve heard the rumours, then? Been swirling around for years only seems I was the last to know. In fact, it was only when I stumbled upon it first hand, written in ink for all the world to see, that anyone spilled the beans. Small fry it was, though, compared to the other biz that’s going on these days. Long time ago, besides.”
“Lord Bertram, now you’re the one talking in riddles!” Antoinette exclaimed while Fanny leapt up and snatched back the glass of claret her brother was about to toss back, promising to reinstate it only if he explained himself.
He managed to look blank while directing an unfocused look of longing at the glass Fanny was waving in front of his nose. “I thought I explained myself very clearly. We were talking about Katherine and those rumours.”
“Vile whispers.” It pained Fanny even to utter the words. “But hardly anything new. If people believe Katherine’s association with Lord Derry should compel her to marry him, then they’ve got nothing much else with which to trouble themselves. Derry helped her when Freddy proved himself such a wastrel of a husband, but there was absolutely nothing inappropriate in it. Katherine tells me so, and I believe her. She says she doesn’t want to marry Lord Derry, now, and she never did.”
“I wish she’d take my advice that it’s in her interests to marry a rich and besotted gentleman this time,” Antoinette interrupted. “I’ll have another word to her. Don’t I know how much easier life is married to a rich man who’ll give you the moon.”
“You’re very different to Katherine, and besides, she won’t listen,” Fanny said tightly. “Katherine’s heart is elsewhere engaged. Apparently, she’s been in love with a gentleman she won’t name—though I will tell you it’s not Lord Derry—for years.”
Eliza made a small noise like a gasp while Bertram, seized back the glass from Fanny’s hand. “I’m not talking about those rumours,” he said after he’d tossed back the contents, I’m talking about the wager I saw written up in Boodles Betting Book dating back seven years. Lord, no one told me at the time, though I believe I was elsewhere, making my mark in the world.”
“Boodles Betting Book!” Fanny exclaimed, horrified. “What was written up about my daughter? Goodness, Bertram, but you can be vexing. Will you just come out with it?”
Bertram looked offended as he pulled out his snuffbox before deciding on more fortification and going towards the brandy decanter that stood upon the sideboard. “Seems that someone we know quite well,” he said with a pointed look at Antoinette, “wagered that young Katherine would elope on a certain day in June seven years ago. I then saw Lord Derry wager that she wouldn’t—with a sizeable payout to go to the son of yours truly here,” he claimed, with a flourish of his hand in Antoinette’s direction “if she did! And we all know she did.”
Antoinette jerked forward, crying indignantly, “Are you accusing my George of having a hand in Katherine’s elopement? What, exactly, are you saying, Bertram?”
“Lord, ain’t it obvious?” Bertram looked vexed. “I’ve said it clear as daylight. Your George mightn’t have written up the original wager, for it was George Bramley who did that, but he embellished it and he had a vested interest in ensuring your Katherine,” he said, directing a look at Fanny, “eloped on June the 9th. And she did.”
“Of course she did, because she was madly in love with Freddy Marwick!” cried Antoinette, quite riled up. “George has done nothing wrong.”
Bertram chewed his lip thoughtfully before agreeing. “Dare say he did the right thing in case she had second thoughts, since, as the next wager has it, if she was delivered of a girl within nine months, five hundred was to be paid out to the chap closest to the day and a thousand in the case of a boy. But that’s by the bye. Can’t remember who wagered that, besides.”
“My poor Katherine,” Fanny whispered, distraught. “How vile people can be.” And yet she knew better than anyone, and from experience, the answer to that question. She also knew
that Katherine’s flirtations in the first fortnight of her coming-out had made her vulnerable to such poor treatment by the rakes and reprobates who caroused and made wagers at Boodles.
“But she did not suffer from the rumours, and that’s what’s important,” Antoinette reminded them, though she didn’t look as airily unconcerned as usual. “And if her choice in husband and to, in fact, elope was not wise, it’s not as if she was pressured into a marriage not of her choosing, as our grandparents and even parents, were.”
“But I’m not so sure it was of her choosing.”
Fanny was no less surprised than Antoinette and Bertram, who turned to look at Eliza. After all, what could their friend know about the state of Katherine’s heart seven years before?
Eliza looked stricken as she shook her head, unable to continue for the moment and Antoinette said, “I hate to say this but…” She stopped and looked at Bertram. “Bertram, I’d like you to leave the room now, for you’ve said all you need to. We’ll consult you if necessary on what steps we can take to mitigate further scandal—if we decide more scandal could ensue.”
Bertram looked at his timepiece and shrugged. “Time to be off, besides. I daresay there’ll be more entertainment to be had at Boodles, and I’ll do my bit to ensure my niece’s reputation remains as blemish-free as it ought. Not that it’s particularly blemish-free right now, but I have a fondness for the girl, and I’ll do what’s right by her as her uncle. She doesn’t deserve what people say of her.”
Now Fanny really felt like weeping though it was Antoinette who said, “Just conduct yourself with caution, Bertram. You ever were one for getting more than just yourself into scrapes.”
“And hasn’t everything turned out for the best when I’ve had a hand in it?” he asked, pinching his nose. “Why, think of young Thea, who never would have married Grayling if it hadn’t been for me. And you, too, Eliza, have a great deal to be glad about as a result of me knowing what was what when you were intent on marrying that reprobate, George Bramley.”
Fanny shooed him out and turned to Antoinette, whose words filled her with dread. Eliza had clearly decided not to expand upon what she’d been about to say, nor respond to Bertram, but Antoinette seemed very keen to impart her thoughts.
She twisted a ringlet around her finger and moved forward in her seat. “As we all know, Katherine met Freddy Marwick the first night she came to London. I thought she’d lost her heart a little too readily, and even I was scandalised when she quizzed me on the kinds of attentions a wife would be subjected to from a husband.”
Fanny felt unaccountably awkward, despite that fact she’d been far from innocent when she’d married Fenton. It seemed so different in the case of one’s own daughter. She also felt a little disturbed that Katherine had chosen to consult Antoinette rather than her own mother on matters relating to marital relations.
A little stiffly, she said, “I’m sure I explained what I needed to in preparation. At the time, I had no idea Katherine’s head or heart had been turned by anyone. And I certainly didn’t want to furnish her with too much knowledge that might not be…appropriate.”
“Lord, is that Fanny Brightwell, my own scandalous sister talking?” Antoinette threw up her hands. “What have you turned into? Mother Goose? Why, no wonder Katherine consulted me, then, on a safe means to test her selection of a potential husband.”
Eliza reddened, and Fanny said, “You’re going too far, Antoinette, to air this publicly. Nor had you any right to be so…accommodating. No wonder Katherine eloped if her head was filled with ideas of romance and desire and all those other things you love to talk about.”
“I said exactly the right thing: the truth. And I was at pains to reassure her that she had carte blanche to decide upon her own husband. I reminded her of how fortunate she was to be able to choose for herself, unlike us, and she was very pliant.”
Fanny tried to cast her mind back seven years. Had she misread the situation at the time? “Katherine seemed very levelheaded. Eloping was out of character for her. But obviously, Young George had a great incentive to ensure that she did, no doubt pressured by Marwick, since we all know now that he’d lost a fortune at the tables just days before and needed a rich wife who was in ignorance of his pecuniary difficulties.”
“No need to look so fiercely at me!” said Antoinette indignantly. “I knew nothing of this wager and George’s involvement until tonight. And nor should you rail over what was inevitable if Katherine was in love with Freddy.”
“But what if it wasn’t Freddy that Katherine was in love with?”
Fanny stopped what she was about to say to frown in Eliza’s direction, for it seemed her friend had a great deal of knowledge of what was going on seven years before.
“Eliza, I’m sorry to say it but she eloped with Freddy of her own free will. You’re not suggesting he kidnapped her. I think Katherine might have said something to us at the time if not in the intervening years.”
Eliza’s brow was creased. She bit her lip and fidgeted in a way Katherine had never seen. Eliza was always the picture of restraint. “What if…” Eliza stopped and shook her head, suddenly reluctant to continue until Fanny encouraged her with a wave of her hand.
“What if she meant to elope with Jack?”
“Jack?”
The sisters repeated the name in one single shocked syllable.
“Please, before you think me completely mad, just think back to their time together. They were always friends—”
“Yes, friends. I don’t mean to offend you, Eliza, but I really don’t think Katherine harboured romantic feelings for Jack,” Fanny said awkwardly.
“You’re not offending me,” Eliza said. “I’m just thinking over what I saw just now with the possibility that seven years ago, Katherine had planned to run away with Jack, only for some inexplicable reason, she ran away with Mr Marwick.” She shook her head to stay the inevitable responses. “And the reason I say that is because just half an hour ago, I saw for the first time that Diana has a tiny sixth finger. It’s barely noticeable—not nearly so noticeable as Jack’s—but you can’t deny that’s what it is. Such a rare anomaly, deformity, call it what you will, runs in families.” She hesitated then shrugged. “I really don’t know what to think except that it is a possibility.”
The stunned silence that followed was broken by Antoinette. “Oh, my! That is indeed a possibility!” Fanny had rarely seen her sister looking so distressed. “I remember, all those years ago, Katherine making some veiled hint about the man she was…experimenting with.”
“Lord, Antoinette, do watch what you say!” muttered Fanny. “There are enough rumours swirling about Katherine without you adding to them!”
“I’m teasing out Eliza’s suggestion of what could really have happened, not endorsing any rumours,” her sister responded, offended. “And I do recall that the allusions Katherine made to the gentleman she’d fallen in love with did not equate with Freddy, though I dismissed that at the time. I think she was using Freddy as a…decoy.”
“And Diana was born exactly nine months later, with a tiny sixth finger.” Eliza put her head in her hands before looking up. “But why would she elope with Freddy? It doesn’t make sense.” She appeared to be thinking before she added. “What I do think, however, is that Katherine was in love with Jack seven years ago, and I think—no, I know, that Jack is in love with Katherine right now.”
“He can’t be. He’s marrying Miss Worthington.” Bertram had just reentered the room with these bold words as he pulled on his gloves. “And we all know he won’t cry off at this late stage. Can’t, really, if he’s the sort to worry about his honour and reputation and all that. Which we all know he is.”
“Yes, I think you’re right, Eliza,” said Fanny bleakly. “I think Katherine’s in love with Jack, though I have no idea whether she was in love with him seven years ago since she chose to marry Freddy.” She looked sorrowfully at her friend and siblings. “Oh, my poor child. Her marriage to Fred
dy was a disaster. And she’s been so unhappy these last seven years. Yet just when happiness might be within reach, it turns out that Jack now is about to become unavailable.”
“We’ll just have to make him available,” said Bertram matter-of-factly as he picked up his silver-topped cane and was greeted by the inevitable scorn of his sisters. Undismayed, he continued, “We need to find someone who’ll sweep Miss Worthington off her feet in order to free Jack up for Katherine.”
“So easy, Bertram,” Antoinette mocked. “Jack and Odette are due to wed in a little over four weeks and Odette is, as is plain to see, quite besotted.”
Eliza nodded gloomily. “She has her claws well and truly sunk, and she knows how to play on Jack’s highly tuned sense of honour.”
Fanny was surprised. “I thought you liked Miss Worthington.”
“Very much. And I’d think her the perfect daughter-in-law if I were convinced Jack was in love with her and nobody else, for then he’d not begrudge dancing to her tune. Believe me, Miss Worthington may look very sweet and pliable on the surface, but there’s a ruthlessness beneath that soft veneer. She will always get what she wants, and she wants Jack, regardless of what Jack wants.”
“Then we must make her want someone else,” said Antoinette.
“Derry thought her a proper bit o’ frock.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Fanny rounded on him. Bertram’s sanguine approach irritated her for her daughter’s happiness was at stake. Matters were serious. “I suppose you mean Odette caught his eye, but then, so did Katherine all those years ago. And Katherine has associated with him sufficiently intimately to lend credence to baseless rumours, it appears. It’ll be a scandal if Katherine doesn’t marry Derry, and that, I believe, is what she may have to do if she is to be welcomed warmly by society. Which she does. If she doesn’t, she’ll be a social pariah, regardless of the fact the rumours linking her to Derry are baseless.”
The Accidental Elopement (Scandalous Miss Brightwells Book 4) Page 16
