The Secret Hours

by Santa Montefiore

  Cormac whistles. ‘Well, that’s quite a revelation. Have you told Kitty?’

  ‘No. I wanted to tell you first. I didn’t think reading her diary would have any impact on me, but it does. You see, she has left a third of her wealth to an anonymous person.’

  ‘And the other two thirds?’

  ‘To me and my brother Logan.’

  He nods. ‘So, you’re thinking that this third person is her illegitimate child.’

  ‘That makes sense, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It does. The fact that it’s an equal share gives that person the same status as her two other children.’

  ‘I can understand why she wanted me to read the diary and not Logan. He is quick to temper and quite inflexible. This way she gets to explain herself before she drops the bombshell.’

  ‘You have to read on,’ he says.

  ‘I know, which is why I brought the diary with me. I don’t want to read it alone.’

  ‘What are you afraid of?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I glance at him anxiously.

  He arches an eyebrow. ‘Don’t take on your mother’s guilt, Faye.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If she gave the child up for adoption, or put it in an orphanage, it’s got nothing to do with you. Remember the time she lived in. She couldn’t have kept an illegitimate child, certainly not if she turned her back on her family. She wouldn’t have had the financial support to raise it on her own.’

  ‘What if I have to track the child down? What if he or she doesn’t even know they’re her child? This is suddenly turning into a real nightmare.’

  ‘Then we’ll read it together and find out what happened. When you have all the pieces of the puzzle in place, I’ll help you work out what to do.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I take his hand over the gear stick.

  He squeezes it. ‘You can handle this, Faye.’

  ‘I know I can. But I’m not sure about my brother. I wouldn’t know where to begin.’

  Cormac grins and turns into the lane that leads down to his cottage. ‘I’d suggest you begin at the beginning.’

  I pull a face. ‘That’s not helpful, Cormac. You don’t know Logan. He’ll be appalled, horrified . . .’

  ‘Very well. Then I’ll give you a real piece of advice. It’s not your problem how he handles it. It’s your problem how you handle it.’

  ‘That’s better,’ I say.

  ‘I’ll give you another piece of advice.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I don’t think you should concern yourself with anyone else but you and me.’ I laugh because he’s got a mischievous look on his face. A mischievous look that promises a whole day in bed. ‘Let’s spend some time in the present before we delve into the past.’

  Chapter 29

  Castle Deverill

  The Past

  Arethusa leaned over the side of the bed and vomited into the chamber pot. Dr Johnson took off his glasses and turned to Charlotte, who was standing by the window looking on worriedly. ‘I’m afraid I am going to have to tell her mother,’ he said. Charlotte put a hand to her breast and sighed heavily. Dr Johnson was a tall, dignified Englishman, with curly greying hair swept off an intelligent face and a thick moustache covering his top lip like a thatch. He had been the Deverills’ doctor for over forty years and had brought Arethusa and her siblings into the world. Charlotte did not imagine he had ever anticipated this. He regarded his patient with pity. It was regretful that the girl had got herself into trouble and he didn’t look forward to breaking the news to her mother.

  ‘Is there nothing that can be done?’ Charlotte asked as Arethusa heaved herself back onto the bed with a moan; the news that she was, indeed, pregnant, had shocked her to such a degree, she had thrown up.

  ‘Carrying a child is not a disease, Miss Hope. It’s usually a blessing. In this case it is a misfortune.’ He looked at Arethusa who was lying on her back with her eyes closed, as if shutting out the world would make it all go away. ‘Tussy is three months pregnant. There’s nothing much to see at present, but it won’t be long before she is unable to hide it and then what are you going to do?’

  ‘I just want to protect her from dishonour and scandal.’

  ‘With respect, Miss Hope, that is not your job. It is her parents’. Now, I suggest rest and fresh air. I will go and talk to Mrs Deverill now.’

  The doctor left the room. Charlotte, in a fever of worry, rushed to Arethusa’s side. She perched on the edge of the bed and put a hot hand to the girl’s forehead. She didn’t know what to say. There were no words to reassure her and nothing she could do to get her out of this mess. ‘I’ve been a fool,’ Arethusa groaned, opening her eyes. Charlotte couldn’t bear to look into them. ‘But if I could go back in time, I’d do it again. I love him, Charlotte.’ Tears ran down her temples and into her hair. ‘I love him so much it hurts.’

  Charlotte, who knew very well what that felt like, stroked her cheek tenderly. ‘I know you love him, and there’s no cure for that.’

  Arethusa put a hand on her stomach and smiled feebly. ‘I’m carrying his baby,’ she said, eyes brightening a little. ‘I’ve got a part of him inside me. What if he knew? What if we got a message to him?’

  Charlotte withdrew her hand. ‘Tussy, you can’t keep the child!’

  ‘Why not? What else am I going to do with it?’

  ‘There are ways of dealing with this kind of thing. You’re not the first to be pregnant out of wedlock and you won’t be the last. You disappear for a while, have the baby, give it to an orphanage where a nice family will be found to look after it, and then you return to your life.’

  Arethusa laughed mirthlessly. ‘Oh Charlotte, that’s very naive of you. Ronald won’t have me once he finds out I’m damaged goods, and if you think I’m going to give my baby away, you don’t know me at all.’ Her face hardened and Charlotte recoiled. ‘This child is half of the man I love. I’m not going to give it away. I don’t care what Mama and Papa say or what anyone says, for that matter. I’m going to keep it.’

  Charlotte sighed again. ‘I think you’ll find you have to do what your parents tell you, because you have no independent means and no support outside of the family. You depend on them, so you’ll have to do as you’re told.’

  Arethusa rolled onto her side. ‘Please leave me alone, Charlotte.’

  ‘Tussy, I’m just being realistic.’

  ‘You’re being cruel.’

  ‘Tussy! It’s my duty as your governess to tell you the truth.’

  ‘It’s your duty as my friend to shield me from it.’ She shrugged off the hand that tried to pacify her. ‘Now leave me alone. I don’t want to talk anymore.’

  Charlotte got up reluctantly and left the room.

  Arethusa curled up on the bed and cried into the pillow. Her future was now uncertain. She had thrown it away for an hour with Jonas Madison – or Demot McLoughlin, the child could be either of theirs. And yet, in spite of her tears and the fear of what her parents would say, she felt Fate had somehow rescued her from a secure but lacklustre path. She didn’t love Ronald. She had tried to love him and had, at least, succeeded in liking him, but perhaps the monotony of being married to him would have eventually deadened her senses. The predictability of a life which was simply a continuation of the one she had up until this moment lived would most certainly have turned her mad with boredom. She knew not where she was headed now, but there was something invigorating about the possibilities. Whatever happened, it would be new and different. Praying that the child was Jonas’s, because she so wanted it to be his (her past liaisons with Dermot had never led to this), she thought that if she could get word to him he would have to marry her. They would have to find a place where they could belong, a place where they were accepted. Surely, they couldn’t be the first white woman and black man to have fallen in love?

  As she lay working out her future it seemed to grow less bleak. Arethusa had a gift for making the best of every situation, and
a situation as dire as this one simply made her more determined to survive it. She was strong-willed and courageous. She would face whatever came to her with fortitude and her usual optimism. She knew her parents would be furious. She’d get no sympathy from her father, and her mother would support her husband, as she always did, so she’d get little sympathy from her either. Charlotte would support her, of course, but her governess had no power or influence. Rupert would roll his eyes, call her a ‘bloody idiot’, but he’d help her. She was certain she could count on him. But besides her brother, she was alone.

  Arethusa must have drifted off to sleep because she was awakened by the sound of the door opening and of her mother saying her name. Arethusa opened her eyes, alert at once to the unfamiliar tone of Adeline’s voice, which had an uncharacteristically hard edge to it. She pushed herself up into a sitting position. Adeline stood in the middle of the room with her hands folded in front of her dress. Her face was a picture of disappointment and despair. Arethusa blinked at her but said nothing.

  Adeline was lost for words. She shook her head and drew her lips into a thin, unhappy line. She watched her daughter from beneath a tight frown and struggled to put her jumbled thoughts into a coherent order. ‘Tussy, how could you? I am in despair,’ she said at last. ‘I cannot comprehend how a well-educated, intelligent young woman such as yourself could be so unbelievably foolish, not to mention immoral. I can only assume that you were seduced, or coerced, because I don’t believe my own daughter would throw away her virtue willingly and without a thought for the consequences.’ She caught her breath. Arethusa watched her resignedly, neither attempting to explain her position nor defend it. ‘Have you no idea how the world works?’ her mother continued. ‘Hasn’t Charlotte educated you at all? What possessed you to do it, when you know very well the value of a girl’s reputation? And who is the man?’ Adeline put a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. ‘If your father ever finds out he’ll put a gun to him, God save us all!’

  Arethusa swung her legs off the bed and sat stiffly on the edge of the mattress. ‘I love him,’ she said flatly. ‘I know I shouldn’t have allowed him to . . . but I wanted something for myself before I entered into marriage with Ronald and resigned myself to a life of duty and boredom.’

  Adeline’s eyes widened with disbelief. ‘A life of duty and boredom? Is that what marriage is to you? No one forced Ronald upon you, Tussy. You could have had anyone. From what I understand from Augusta London rolled out the most eligible and charming men for you and you chose not one of them.’ She shook her head in exasperation. ‘I can only presume that the man you claim to love is not suitable for marriage.’

  Arethusa nodded. ‘He’s not,’ she replied.

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘I can’t say.’

  ‘My dear, I insist that you do.’

  ‘I won’t ever betray him.’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s gone well beyond betrayal, Tussy. You’ll marry him whether he’s a cobbler’s son or a Catholic.’

  At the mention of marriage, Arethusa saw a faint glimmer of light. ‘He’s neither, Mama.’ She looked at her mother boldly. ‘He’s black.’

  Adeline gasped. It was as if she had been struck between the eyes. She stared at her daughter in horror. ‘Black?’ she choked.

  ‘Black,’ said Arethusa firmly.

  Adeline shook her head, wanting desperately to unhear what her daughter had just said. ‘He’s not one of those entertainers? What were they called? The Madison Minstrels?’ She staggered to the armchair and sank into it.

  ‘Jonas Madison,’ Arethusa declared.

  ‘The man who taught you to play the banjo?’ Adeline said in a thin voice.

  ‘That’s the one.’ Arethusa got up and crossed the room to sit on the floor beside her mother. She gazed up at her with pleading eyes. ‘I love him, Mama, and he loves me. What does it matter that he’s black or that he makes a living playing the banjo. He taught the Prince of Wales.’

  Adeline had gone very white. ‘He taught the Prince of Wales! You think that makes the slightest difference? Tussy, you’re deluded. You can never marry him. Not in a million moons can you marry him.’

  ‘You’ve always told me that God sees neither class nor colour,’ she said, hoping to appeal to the spiritual side of her mother which she had always scorned. ‘You consider all men equal.’

  ‘And they are equal, in the eyes of God, but not in the eyes of society. We have to live by society’s rules. We have no choice. I’m sure he’s a good person, a kind person. I’m sure he’s got all the qualities one would want in a man, but he has none of the qualities one would need in a husband. Tussy, what were you thinking?’ Her mother had gone very weak. She lifted a lifeless hand to her forehead and took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘What part of you thought it was ever possible?’

  ‘My heart,’ Arethusa replied, putting a hand there for emphasis.

  ‘Darling, you cannot keep the baby. We will have to pretend that you are sick and postpone the wedding. Then you will have to disappear for a while—’

  Arethusa interrupted her. ‘I’m not going to give up my child,’ she protested crossly. ‘Don’t even try to persuade me.’

  Adeline frowned. ‘Do you want to ruin your life, Tussy?’

  ‘I’d rather ruin my life than the life of my child.’

  ‘This is no time to be romantic. The child will be black, Tussy. Make no mistake. You cannot bring up a black child. Have you gone quite mad? You cannot bring up any child on your own, let alone one of colour.’

  ‘Then I will write to Jonas and tell him that he must marry me.’

  Adeline looked doubtful. ‘Has he said he will?’

  Arethusa hesitated. ‘No, it was never discussed.’

  ‘Then he’s got more sense than you.’

  ‘But if I tell him I’m carrying his child, he’ll have to marry me.’

  ‘No, he won’t. He’ll run a mile. If he really loves you he will walk away from you.’

  Arethusa lowered her eyes. ‘He already has,’ she said in a small voice.

  Adeline sat up. ‘I am going to have to discuss this with your father. But while I do, I want you to go for a walk in the garden and think about what I have said. Your future can still be saved. The wedding can be postponed and we can draw a line under this. We can pretend it never happened.’

  Arethusa lifted her chin defiantly. ‘I can walk all you want me to, but I won’t change my mind.’

  ‘Oh, I think you will,’ her mother retorted fiercely. ‘When you consider the options. There really are only two. You either do as I ask, or you are out in the cold on your own.’ Adeline fixed her with a hard stare. ‘I love you, Tussy. God knows how much I love you. Which is why I will not let you ruin your life.’

  ‘If you love me, then you can understand how I love my own child, even though it is not yet born.’

  Adeline pushed herself up from the armchair and made to leave. ‘Tussy my darling,’ she said as she opened the door. ‘You don’t even know what love is.’

  Arethusa did as her mother asked and went for a walk around the garden. She wished Rupert were at home to advise her, but he was staying with Peregrine in Cumbria, even though the invitation was for grouse shooting and Rupert detested killing living things. She strode across the damp lawn, shoulders hunched against the wind, and wondered how she could get a message to Jonas. Surely, if he knew she was carrying his child, he would come and save her. But then, with a sinking heart, she remembered Dermot. There was a chance, of course, that the child was his. If she managed to persuade Jonas to run off with her and then the baby turned out to be white, what then? She couldn’t risk it. She’d have to wait until the birth.

  The wind had blown orange and yellow leaves into little piles around the edge of the lawn. Arethusa marched over them, kicking them out of her way crossly. She felt walls closing in around her – castle walls – and was suddenly suffocated. She wished she could leave and not have to answer to her parents, or to anyone
else. She resented their control. How she wished she were a man, then she could do as she pleased, but as a woman she was never going to be master of her own destiny, but another person’s property, subject always to somebody else’s will. She stomped resentfully over the wet grass where decaying apples and plums from a bountiful autumn harvest lay where they had fallen, ravaged by wasps. She did not change her mind.

  When she went back inside, her father was waiting for her with her mother in their private sitting room. Arethusa knew he was going to be angry and braced herself for a tirade of abuse. However, she had never seen him quite so furious before. She felt the tension in the room the moment she walked into it and closed the door softly behind her. Hubert was pacing the floor, shoulders stooped, as if defeated by the weight of the problem now facing him. For a while he said nothing, he just grew redder in the face and more agitated. He inhaled like a bull, nostrils dilated, puffed out his cheeks and dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. At last he stopped in front of the fireplace, where turf logs spat and smoked in the grate, and spoke.

  ‘Never in my life have I been so bitterly disappointed, Arethusa.’ Arethusa glanced at her mother who stood by the window, fiddling nervously with her fingers. ‘I’m appalled that a girl with your education and upbringing should behave like a common harlot.’ He raised his voice, emphasizing the word ‘harlot’ with disdain, which made Arethusa flinch. ‘Have you no shame?’ Arethusa knew he did not expect or wish her to reply. She remained very still and stiff and waited for it to be over. Hubert began to pace again. ‘But you will not bring the family into disrepute,’ he said, dabbing his forehead with the handkerchief again. ‘You will not inflict scandal upon us. No one else must know about this but the three of us. It must remain between these four walls, do you understand?’ He looked at her directly. She nodded. It wasn’t the time to mention that Charlotte also knew. ‘Now this is what you will do.’ He repeated what her mother had told her in the bedroom. But Arethusa was not going to give up her child, whatever the cost.

  ‘I won’t do it,’ she said when he had finished. Her father stared at her in astonishment. Had she turned into a frog before his very eyes he would not have looked more startled.