“May we not stay together?” Claudia protested. “In the gamekeeper’s cottage, perhaps, until a room at Greenwillows can be prepared for us?”
“Live together without benefit of clergy?” Jamie exclaimed in tones of deepest revulsion, although his eyes twinkled. “My dear Lady Buckleigh, you shock me to the core!”
“It is not as if we have not been doing exactly that for the last thirteen years!”
“Yes, but then we had no other choice,” Jamie said in a more serious vein. “We have a choice now, and I intend to see that everything is done openly and aboveboard. Anything less would be dishonoring to you, my love.”
“Perhaps, but—” She looked down at the dead man at her feet, and shook her head as if to clear it. “I have dreamed of this moment for so very long. Now that it is here, I—I don’t quite know what to do. I’m frightened.”
Pickett, having met her mother, saw nothing surprising in this confession. “I think it would be best if the major was not present, at least not at first.”
“No, indeed!” Jamie and Claudia spoke as one.
“In fact, I think we might do best to put it all in my wife’s hands.”
“Julia?” Claudia’s brows lowered skeptically. “Are you sure?”
“Your little sister has grown up in your absence,” Pickett reminded her. “Have you a bonnet with a veil, or something else similarly concealing? Major Pennington and I will walk with you as far as Runyon Hall, and I’ll have the butler fetch Julia. She can break the news gently to your mama while the major accompanies me to Buckleigh Manor. By the time we return, Lady Runyon will have had time to accustom herself to the situation.”
“What he means,” put in Jamie irrepressibly, “is that he hopes the fireworks will be over.”
Pickett regarded him with raised eyebrows. “Of course, if you would prefer to break the news to her ladyship yourself—”
“On the contrary, Mr. Pickett, having won the fair maiden, I find myself filled with a burning desire to obtain justice for my vanquished foe. I will accompany you.”
“Am I to understand, Major, that after having met Bonaparte on the field of battle, you are afraid to face Lady Runyon?”
“Bonaparte never had to admit to Lady Runyon that he’d been living in sin with her daughter,” Jamie retorted. “No, Mr. Pickett, you are in need of a lieutenant, and I offer myself in your service. I am yours to command!”
* * *
And so it was that, a short time later, Pickett and the major arrived at Runyon Hall accompanied by a woman heavily veiled in a black lace mantilla of the sort worn by Spanish ladies. If Parks, the butler, was at all surprised by the appearance of this female, he hid it admirably, pausing only for the briefest of moments before asking if he might take her wrap—an offer which she declined with a vehement shaking of her head.
“Ah, Parks,” Pickett addressed the butler, “will you send Mrs. Pickett down to me?”
“Er, Miss Julia is in the drawing room with her ladyship,” said Parks, gesturing toward a door across the hall. “Shall I announce—?”
“By no means! You may tell Miss Julia that her husband has need of her here.”
With a last, dubious glance at the veiled lady, Parks took himself off to obey this behest. A moment later Julia came hurrying to meet them. Pickett was relieved to note that Parks did not accompany her; apparently the butler had the good sense to know when discretion was required.
“Yes, John, what is—Clau—” She broke off abruptly as Pickett put a finger to his lips in an urgent plea for silence. When she spoke again, her voice was little more than a whisper. “Claudia, what are you doing here? John, Jamie, do you think this is wise?”
“It’s been a busy morning, and I haven’t time now to tell you all the details,” Pickett said in like manner. “Suffice it to say that Lord Buckleigh is dead. No, Jamie didn’t kill him,” he added quickly, seeing her wide-eyed gaze slew from him to the major.
“Then—who did?”
“We don’t know, at least not yet. Major Pennington is going with me to inform Lady Buckleigh—or Miss Gubbins, rather—and Claudia is finally coming out of hiding. I need you to break the news to your mother.”
“I shall be only too glad to do so! But—oh dear, it will be a delicate task, won’t it?” She glanced at her sister, or as much of her as might be glimpsed through the layers of black lace.
“Yes, it will, which is why I would not entrust the task to anyone but you,” he said.
Her lips curved in a warm yet knowing smile. “Flatter me all you like, John, but I shall still demand a full explanation upon your return.”
“You shall have it, too,” he promised, giving her a quick kiss before turning to Jamie. “If you’re ready, Major, we’ll be on our way.”
After they had gone, Claudia took her sister’s hand and let out a long breath that stirred the lace concealing her features. “I suppose we’d best have it over with.”
Julia gave her hand a squeeze, then led the way into the drawing room. Parks hovered inconspicuously in the corner and, upon receiving a speaking look from Julia, quickly made himself scarce, closing the door softly behind him.
“What is this all about, Julia?” Lady Runyon asked, regarding the veiled figure with narrowed eyes. “Who is this person?”
Julia dropped to her knees before her mother’s chair and took Lady Runyon’s frail hands in hers. “You must prepare yourself for a shock, Mama. It’s just that—she’s come home, you see.”
Recognizing her cue, Claudia pushed back the folds of her mantilla. “It’s good to see you again, Mama.”
“Claudia?” The arthritic fingers tightened convulsively on Julia’s. In the next instant, Lady Runyon was on her feet and embracing her long-lost elder daughter. “Oh, my dear child, my precious girl! We thought you dead!”
“I know, Mama,” Claudia said through her own tears. “But as you can see, I am very much alive, and—and with your permission, I should like to come home.”
“My permission? I can deny you nothing, my darling, but surely it is Lord Buckleigh whom you should ask. Oh dear, and he has taken another wife! Whatever will he say when—but you have been gone for thirteen years, my love! Where have you been all that time?”
“Yes—I know—I am sorry for it, Mama, but—but I have been with Jamie. He—he carried me away.”
Lady Runyon released her firstborn, but only so that she might cup Claudia’s face in her hands and look into her eyes. “He carried you away? I’m sure I shouldn’t wonder at it, for he always resented Lord Buckleigh. Thank God you were able to escape at last!”
“No, no, Mama, it wasn’t like that at all,” Claudia protested, tears giving way to shaky laughter at the very idea of the vicar’s son kidnapping her and holding her against her will for more than a decade. “His was no evil intent. In fact, he—he rescued me. From Buckleigh.”
Lady Runyon’s hands dropped abruptly to her sides, and she stepped backwards as if stung. “Claudia! Do you mean to tell me that all this time, while we mourned you for dead, you have been living in sin with that Pennington boy?”
Julia, who had feared that the joyful reunion might take just such a turn, rose to her feet and moved protectively to her sister’s side. “If we are to talk of sin, Mama, perhaps we should be speaking of Lord Buckleigh. Surely you have not forgotten all those Sundays that Claudia came to church with bruises on her face, having tripped on the carpet covering the stairs! You said yourself—more than once, if memory serves—that she should have it replaced before she did herself a serious injury. It was not the carpet at fault, Mama, it was Lord Buckleigh. He was the one who needed replacing!”
“Is this true, Claudia?” Lady Runyon demanded, bending a keen gaze upon her daughter.
Claudia nodded. “Yes, Mama. He had done it many times before, but the last time was by far the worst. Jamie was coming to have tea with me on the day before he was to return to Oxford. When Buckleigh found out, he flew into a jealous rage.”
“Then—the tea things scattered all over the floor—?”
“That was Buckleigh’s doing, not Jamie’s. When he found me—Jamie, that is, not Buckleigh—I had a black eye, a swollen lip, and two cracked ribs. And shortly after we made our escape, I—” Her voice cracked at the still-painful memory. “I suffered a miscarriage.”
“You were expecting a child?” Lady Runyon’s face crumpled at the discovery of this lost grandchild. “Why did you not tell me?”
“I had not known for very long myself. I had thought—hoped—that my condition might offer some protection from Buckleigh’s increasingly violent outbursts, but I was mistaken. He even made the vile suggestion that the child was not really his.”
“Oh, but to elope—” protested her mother.
“Believe me, Mama, it was not what we would have chosen—either of us—but we had no alternative.”
“You should have come to me instead!”
“Why?” Claudia asked with a trace of bitterness. “So that you might tell me it was my own fault, that I should try harder to please him?”
“I’m sure I never would have—” Lady Runyon began, then caught Julia’s eye and abandoned this argument, apparently remembering, just as Julia did, a recent conversation in which she had said something very similar. “But you let us believe you were dead!”
“I know.” Claudia blinked back tears. “I am sorry for it, Mama, but there was no other way. I could not risk Buckleigh finding us out.”
“If only you had told us, your father could have talked to Lord Buckleigh, could have given him a very stern warning that we would not allow him to mistreat our daughter, no matter how lofty his position.”
Claudia shook her head. “Talking would have paid no toll—quite the reverse, in fact, for I have no doubt he would have felt himself justified in punishing me for betraying him.” She took her mother’s hand and was somewhat encouraged to note that, although Lady Runyon did not return the pressure of her fingers, neither did she snatch her hand away. “Mama, I know this is hard for you to accept, but this is no shameful little affaire between Jamie and me. We have loved each other all our lives, and on the day we eloped, we made vows to one another—and meant them just as sincerely as if we had spoken them in church.”
“But you had already made a vow to your husband, for better or worse!”
“I know all about the ‘worse’ part,” Claudia said, suppressing a shudder at the memory. “But it seems to me that there was also something said at our wedding about Buckleigh’s responsibility to love his wife as Christ loved the church and gave Himself for it. If I broke my marriage vows—and I can hardly deny having done so—then Buckleigh had broken his own vows to me long before.”
“Perhaps, but one does not negate the other,” insisted Lady Runyon. “As for what Lord Buckleigh will say when he finds out—”
“He won’t say anything,” Julia put in. “Lord Buckleigh is dead—and no, Jamie didn’t kill him,” she added, anticipating her mother’s next question.
“Jamie and I are to be married as soon as he can obtain a special license,” Claudia said. “Until then, I should like to return home, if I may.”
“Your ‘home’ is Buckleigh Manor!”
“Which currently has another mistress in residence,” Claudia pointed out.
“Yes, well, I do not wish to appear unsympathetic, my dear, for I can see things have been most uncomfortable for you. But surely you must see—the impropriety of it—I could never hold my head up at church—”
“Mama!” Julia exclaimed, aghast that her mother’s sense of decorum meant more to her than the return of her long-lost daughter. “If you will not allow Claudia to stay here, then I shan’t stay, either. John and I shall remove to the Pig and Whistle, and we will take Claudia with us.”
A murmur of voices came from beyond the drawing room door, and it burst open to admit Sir Thaddeus. “What the devil is going on here? First Parks will hardly allow me to enter my own drawing room, and now—” He broke off abruptly at the sight of Claudia. “My girl! My little girl!”
The squire wept openly as he gathered his daughter into his arms.
“It seems that Claudia has spent the last thirteen years living adulterously with that Pennington boy,” his lady informed him.
“Indeed, it is true, Papa, but it was not by choice.” Claudia explained about the beatings, concluding, “Jamie was persuaded that Buckleigh would kill me sooner or later, and so he took me away.”
“In fact, he did what your own father should have done,” the squire grumbled when she had finished. “By God, when I get my hands on his lordship, I’ll—”
“It’s all right now, Papa. Buckleigh is dead, and Jamie and I will be married as soon as may be.” She smiled apologetically. “The last thirteen years notwithstanding, Jamie refuses to live with me any longer until the marriage is solemnized. I had hoped to stay with you and Mama until the arrangements are made, but since Mama dislikes the notion—”
“Nonsense! Why should she?” He bent a fierce look upon his wife.
“Adultery, my dear—” protested Lady Runyon. “The scandal—”
“And where is Jamie to stay in the meantime?” he demanded of Claudia.
“He will continue at the vicarage.”
“There it is, then, Caro! If the vicar can survive the scandal, I don’t see why we shouldn’t.”
“Yes, but Jamie is their son, and it is different for men,” Lady Runyon objected feebly. “Besides, however little I may approve of his actions, Jamie at least has no living wife—”
“Jamie’s ‘actions,’ as you call them, might not have been necessary if Claudia had felt she could confide in us,” Sir Thaddeus growled. “No, by God, it was left to a damned Bow Street Runner to tell me how things stood between Julia and Fieldhurst. I’ll not repeat the same mistake. Claudia must not suffer any longer for our lack of understanding.”
“But what will they say in the village? I have always tried to set a virtuous example—”
“Why should we care what they say? Saving for Lady Buckleigh, you are the highest ranking female in Norwood Green, and I daresay most of the villagers will look to you for their example. Seems to me that if you let it be known you accept Claudia and Jamie back with open arms, no one else would dare say or do anything to offend you.” He scowled fiercely at her. “On the other hand, if you can’t find it in your heart to do so, I suppose the Pig and Whistle can house one more.”
“Thaddeus!” she gasped. “You would leave me?”
“It’s a funny thing about paragons of virtue, Caro. I’m sure they are very admirable from a distance, but they’re damned difficult to live with.”
Lady Runyon took a quavering breath. “Very well,” she said with obvious reluctance. “You may stay, Claudia, but only until the vows are said—if you are quite certain they will be said,” she added darkly, muttering something under her breath about the need for buying a cow when one is already getting the milk for free.
“We have waited thirteen years for the opportunity to marry,” Claudia assured her. “We shan’t wait a moment longer than necessary. That is all we ever wanted, you know—to come back home and live openly as man and wife at Greenwillows with our daughter.”
Here, it seemed, was a fresh blow for her ladyship. “Daughter? You have a child out of wedlock?”
“Not out of wedlock, Mama, for I was married, just—just not to the father of my child.”
“You have seen her, Mama,” Julia put in. “The little girl at church. You said she reminded you of Claudia, and you were quite right.”
“That beautiful child—she is my granddaughter?” Lady Runyon breathed, clearly overcome at the idea that the wages of sin should yield such precious dividends.
Claudia nodded. “We could not keep her with us in Spain, so as soon as she was weaned, Jamie arranged for the wife of a fellow officer to convey her to Mr. and Mrs. Turner so that they might raise her along with their own children.
I knew we could rely on their discretion—one has only to look at her to know who sired her, although even they do not know who her mother is—and I knew they would be good to her. I could not bear to give her to a stranger.” Her voice cracked on the words. “Although she must know the truth of her parentage someday—Norwood Green is too small a village to allow of its remaining a secret—I want her to think of her father as a hero, as indeed he is. I should hate to have to explain to her how we came to be estranged from her grandparents.”
“It’s true that the poor mite should not suffer for her parents’ actions, for she never asked to be born,” Lady Runyon acknowledged, visibly weakening. “And so I have a granddaughter! What, pray, is her name?”
“Can you not guess, Mama?” Claudia asked gently. “Her name is Caroline.”
With a sob, Lady Runyon buried her face in her handkerchief and wept, her shoulders shaking so violently that Sir Thaddeus felt compelled to put his arms around her and pat her awkwardly on the back. He looked over her head at his daughters, and the three expelled sighs of profound relief.
Claudia had come home at last.
Chapter Nineteen
In Which John Pickett Encounters
Resistance from an Unexpected Source
Pickett and Jamie left Claudia to Julia’s care, and soon reached the Palladian mansion which, it appeared, would soon stand vacant, and would remain so until the next in line to the title could be discovered. But this, thankfully, was not their problem. Theirs was the more pressing (and far more delicate) task of informing the widow that, firstly, her husband was dead; and that, secondly, she was no widow after all, for she had never really been a wife.
Pickett lifted the polished brass knocker and let it fall, and a moment later it was opened by the butler, who goggled over Pickett’s shoulder at the sight of the one person he had never expected to see darken Lord Buckleigh’s doorstep.
“I’m afraid his lordship is out—” he began.
For Deader or Worse Page 20
