Lord Gilbert (Sons of the Marquess Book 5)

by Mary Kingswood

  “Not you, Monty. You were always humble.”

  “Oh no, I was horribly self-satisfied and smug, always quoting the Bible at people. Marriage has knocked that out of me, at least.”

  “And I was so arrogant I assumed my dear Connie would marry me without the least effort on my part,” Carrbridge said, with a wry smile. “She brought me down to earth with a bump.”

  The two men smiled fondly as they thought of their wives, and Gil wished with all his heart that he could feel the same affection for Genista, instead of this terrible confusion that tore him apart.

  “I should be very glad to be humble if I could also be as happy as you two are,” Gil said bleakly. “All of you — it is a wonderful thing, to see you all so much in love, and I wish… I wish…” He rubbed his face tiredly.

  “Do you know, Gil,” Carrbridge said gently, “you remind me of myself when I was your age, drifting about like a rudderless ship. Not knowing what to do or how to go on. Not in society, I mean, but in life. Everyone needs a purpose, like Monty wanting to be a clergyman. A direction, if you will. For me, it came when I married Connie. I decided there and then that nothing in my life was so important as making her happy, so I have devoted myself to that end ever since. I find it answers very well.”

  “And that is perfect for you,” Gil said. “And Monty has his living, and Gus has his horses, and you all have wives you adore, and that makes everything easy. I do not know what my direction is, for the army has not worked out as well as I had hoped, and that is all my own fault, I know that, so you need not tell me so. And now I am married to a woman I barely know, and I have not the least idea how to make her happy. Not the least idea.”

  “But you like Lady Gil very well, I think,” Monty said gently. “You respect her, and there can be no better foundation for marriage.”

  “Oh, yes! She is all that is admirable. Far more admirable than I will ever be. She has strong principles, not like so many of the women one meets in London. Like Bella — ha! There is a woman with no principles at all. It is hard to imagine now what I ever found attractive about her. I am so very sorry I inflicted her on you all. She was supposed to deposit Genista and then go off somewhere else… Harrogate or some such place. But Bertie is sick, and now you are stuck with her, it seems.”

  “She seduced the chaplain, you know,” Carrbridge said, with a sudden smile. “Poor Mr Bridlington! He was so mortified.”

  “Good Lord, how dreadful!” Gil said. “I had no idea you even had a chaplain, not since poor Mr Penicuik.” He wondered how much other family news had escaped his notice. Connie wrote diligently and at great length, but he never read her missives with much attention. He had missed a great deal while he had been away.

  “We found it so comfortable when Monty was here all the time and holding services in the chapel, so we took on a chaplain. Only a few weeks ago, so no wonder you knew nothing of it. It is very pleasant not to have to leave the house on a Sunday. Such a devout and worthy young man, and within two days, your Bella had him in her bed.”

  “Good Lord,” Gil said again.

  “You must not worry about Lady Gil,” Carrbridge said. “She will get used to us eventually, and be herself again. You just need to give her a little time.”

  “And talk to her,” Monty said. “You will not go down to London for the season, I daresay, but once Carrbridge has gone the house will be quieter and you will be able to spend more time together. Or you could come and stay with us at the parsonage.”

  “Or with Humphrey,” Carrbridge added. “He and Lady H. are staying, too. Reggie is going south, of course, and Gus, too, as soon as these lawyers have had their say.”

  “Carrbridge, I am such a selfish creature,” Gil cried. “Here I am heaping all my woes on your head, and you have far more serious matters to weigh you down. You must be feeling desperate tonight.”

  “Not in the least,” Carrbridge said, with a hint of a smile. “Whatever happens with the lawyers is of no importance. No, truly! Do not look so disbelieving. The title, the money, even the house — none of that matters very much. It can all go, as far as I am concerned, for I have the one and only thing that matters to me.”

  “Connie,” Gil said, in sudden understanding.

  “Yes. Connie. The children, too, of course, but mostly Connie. Three months ago, I nearly lost her. That was my darkest hour, Gil, the moment when I stood on the brink of utter despair. I cannot imagine what I would have done if…” He paused, taking a ragged breath. “But Monty prayed for a miracle, and a miracle there was, for Dr Hay saved her, and I thank God for it every day. Nothing else is of the slightest importance,” he ended simply. “So take your time with Lady Gil until you know what will make her happy and then… then you devote the rest of your life to providing it, whatever it is.”

  Gil nodded, and, for the first time in a long time, he smiled. “That sounds like an admirable plan.”

  ~~~~~

  They met the lawyers in the ship room, so called because of the numerous naval paintings on the walls. It was both office and retreat to the marquess, but today it had the air of a courtroom, and one, moreover, where the judge might be expected to reach for his black cap. The judge, in this case, was Sir Rathbone Willerton-Forbes, and he was supported by Sir Lester Markham, and another, younger, Willerton-Forbes, all lawyers from his chambers, together with another lawyer, Lord Hillingyre, representing the Master of the Rolls, who maintained the official list of peers. In addition, an earl and a viscount were in attendance as representatives of His Majesty, to observe proceedings. These six sat in a row, like so many ravens in their dark coats, behind the desk.

  On the other side of the desk, a rather larger number of chairs stood in neat rows. All six of the Marford brothers were present, together with several of the uncles, and Mr Merton, taking notes. Huddled miserably near the door, as if he wished to escape the ordeal, was Ben Gartmore, dressed up for the occasion in his Sunday suit. Monty sat beside him, and Gil, being one of the last into the room, pitied him and went to sit on Ben’s other side.

  “My lords, gentlemen,” Carrbridge said, “we all know why we are here. Pray begin, Sir Rathbone.” He sounded remarkably calm, considering the nature of the meeting and its possible devastating consequences.

  The elderly lawyer nodded, and held out his hand. The younger Willerton-Forbes placed a paper into it. “This, my noble lords, gentlemen, is the cause of the difficulty. This paper was delivered to my chambers several weeks ago now, hand delivered, by a junior lawyer from a nearby chambers who was paid the sum of five guineas to do so, although no enquiries have elicited the identity of the man who paid for this service. This is a special licence, a genuine one, for we have verified it with the Archbishop of Canterbury’s office, permitting the marriage between Mr Charles Marford and Miss Amelia Gartmore. Mr Charles Marford, I need not remind anyone, later became the eighth Marquess of Carrbridge. Now this, in itself, does not mean anything, for a special licence need not be used. However, this note in the margin here, states that the marriage did, in fact take place, and gives the date and location. And I must tell you all that I have written to the parish of Garthorpe, and received confirmation that there is indeed an entry in the parish register recording the marriage. Here, my lord, pray examine the special licence and the letter from the clergyman at Garthorpe.”

  He passed the papers across the desk to the marquess, who gave them a cursory glance before passing them on. When they reached Merton, he began copying the details with swift movements of his pen. Sir Rathbone, meanwhile, rested his hands on his ample stomach, and watched the marquess.

  “But what does it mean?” Carrbridge said. “Are we… illegitimate?”

  “Oh, no, my lord. No, no, no. Nothing of the sort. The marriage of your parents is recognised as valid in law.”

  “Then… the title must be surrendered?”

  “Oh, indeed not, my lord. Such a thing is impossible. You have quite properly claimed the honours of your father, and His
Majesty has graciously seen fit to grant the claim. You are indubitably the true and legal Marquess of Carrbridge at this moment, that cannot be denied, and the title cannot be surrendered.”

  “Then… I do not quite see…”

  Sir Rathbone smiled and steepled his pudgy fingers. “Ah, but it is a most interesting case, is it not? Here we have the suggestion of a marriage… a secret marriage, my lord. Secret, because, even if it took place exactly as described, it was not made public by way of the reading of the banns or by a notice in the usual newspapers or by any introduction by the gentleman of his supposed wife into society. Indeed, not only was this marriage not made public, but another marriage, taking place just a few months later, between Mr Charles Marford, or Lord Charles, as he was by then, to Miss Adela March, was made public. That marriage was undertaken in the conventional way, by a reading of the banns and notices in the newspapers, in the presence of many witnesses, some of whom are, I believe, in this room as we speak.” Two or three of the uncles nodded in acknowledgement. “Subsequently, Lord and Lady Charles took their places in society as a married couple, their children were acknowledged as true heirs, Lord Charles claimed the marquessate in due course and all is as clear as it could possibly be.”

  “But then…?”

  “Let us suppose, however, that the earlier, secret marriage did indeed take place and that there was issue. As there was — a son, in fact, of that supposed marriage, who is in this room now. Mr Benjamin Gartmore. That son might, if he were so minded and being the eldest living son, feel that he were the true heir of Mr Charles Marford, later Lord Charles, and eventually the eighth Marquess of Carrbridge. And if he were so minded, he might then lodge a claim in the usual way, by petition to His Majesty, to be given the honours he feels are his by right. And then — and only then, my lord — does there arise any question of legitimacy. Or otherwise.”

  Every eye in the room turned on Ben Gartmore, who went beetroot red. He got slowly to his feet. “My lords, I don’t intend to make any claim of any kind. I want no title and I certainly don’t want to do anything which would hurt his lordship and her ladyship, who’ve been very kind to me.”

  “So is that the end of it?” Carrbridge said. “Ben will make no claim, so we are safe?”

  “Not quite,” the lawyer said. “Mr Gartmore may feel now that he has no desire to claim the marquessate for himself, and that is his right, of course. But he may change his mind at any time, and that too is his right.”

  “I shan’t!” Ben said fiercely. “I’ll never make this claim.”

  “Never…” the lawyer said musingly. “One should never say never, because who knows how circumstances may change? But there is another consideration. Mr Gartmore may father a child of his own. A son, perhaps, and that son also has the right to claim the title. And his son after him, in perpetuity, unless the male line dies out. Do you have a son, Mr Gartmore? Or the expectation of one?”

  “I… have a wife, and… and the expectation, yes,” Ben said. “But… can’t I… I don’t know, swear that I won’t make a claim and my heirs won’t either? Can I do that?”

  “Renounce the right to claim? Not officially, no. Your heirs will always have the right, even if you choose not to exercise the right yourself.”

  Merton coughed discreetly. “But a son could not claim during his father’s lifetime, is that not so?”

  “That is true. If Mr Gartmore lives a long life, then his lordship and his heirs will be free of any threat of a claim for many years.”

  “But there will always be a threat?” Carrbridge said. “We must live with this possibility forever hanging over us?”

  Sir Rathbone gestured to the man sitting beside him. “Lord Hillingyre is an expert on peerage law. Let him give you his opinion, my lord.”

  “Lord Carrbridge, may I reassure you at once that a claim of this nature is excessively difficult to prove. One must demonstrate not only that the marriage took place, that every legal requirement was complied with and that the people married are those named, and that the claimant is indeed the heir of the person named, but one must overcome the obstacle of secrecy. Secret marriages are the very devil, and the entire purpose of the Marriage Act of 1753 was to eliminate as far as is humanly possible anything of a clandestine nature. All marriages must be made public, in the interests of ease of inheritance. So there is a great resistance to recognising the legitimacy of a secret marriage, and in this case, where there was no public acknowledgement, and in fact a later, very public, marriage, one would have to suspect it either never took place at all, or was not valid in some way.”

  “Is there nothing we can do, except to sit and wait?” Carrbridge said.

  “In this case, sitting and waiting is exactly what I would recommend,” Lord Hillingyre said.

  “I do not understand,” Carrbridge said.

  “Consider,” the lawyer said, smiling. “This marriage, if it occurred, took place more than thirty years ago. Mr Charles Marford is dead. Miss Amelia Gartmore is dead. The two witnesses, who were housekeeper and coachman to the officiating clergyman, are both dead. The officiating clergyman is the only remaining witness to the marriage, he is eighty eight years old and in frail health. Yes, indeed you should sit and wait, for in a very few years the last witness to this marriage will be in the churchyard, and then there will be no possibility of proving the validity of the marriage. At that point you would certainly be safe, my lord.”

  “And yet, I might not be entitled to my honours,” Carrbridge said with quiet dignity. “I should not wish to profit from that which is not lawfully mine. Even if Ben has no wish to make a claim, his son might, and it would be dishonourable in me to obstruct the possible success of such a claim. Besides, the uncertainty is… corroding to everyone’s peace of mind. I should like to know the truth of the matter, one way or the other.”

  “My lord, in law there is no truth. There is only interpretation. There is only one way to determine the validity of this supposed marriage, and that is for Mr Gartmore or his heir to press a claim. That claim would then be judged in the usual way and a ruling arrived at and a recommendation made to His Majesty. Then it would be a matter for His Majesty to determine, and one must not presume to know the King’s mind in such a case.”

  “No, no, of course not.”

  “Even if the law were to be satisfied as to the legality of the marriage, His Majesty may still, for his own ineffable reasons, choose to deny the claim and leave matters as they stand, and that is entirely for him to decide.”

  “Of course.”

  “So you see, there is nothing to be done, nothing at all. The situation is… noted, but unless and until a claim is made, no further action is possible. It is unsettling, of course, but one must not allow the uncertainty to affect one.”

  “I suppose not,” Carrbridge said, but he sounded subdued.

  Gil and Monty exchanged glances. It was all most unsatisfactory.

  14: The Long Gallery

  The lawyers disappeared, the uncles drifted away in a muttering group and Ben Gartmore scuttled away to the stable court, where he was staying.

  “Well, that is not so bad as I feared,” Humphrey said.

  “Not so bad?” Reggie said. “When we have this hanging over our heads indefinitely?”

  “Every great family has a situation like this somewhere in its history,” Humphrey said with a shrug. “We are getting off lightly, I think, for Ben will never pursue a claim, and if he has a son, that will be many years away.”

  “Who did he marry?” Gus said. “If his wife is ambitious—”

  “She is, or was, a tightrope walker in a circus,” Monty said. “She is one of Harriet’s lame ducks. You know, this group of fallen women she is helping.”

  “A tightrope walker and a fallen woman? She has a child already, then?” Gil said.

  “She does,” Monty said. “It seemed a good match when she caught Ben’s eye, but if he ever becomes a marquess—”

  “We must just h
ope that never happens,” Reggie said gloomily. “Lord, what a mess! Well, I must get home to Robinia and tell her all about it.”

  “I shall ride with you,” Gus said. “A gallop will clear my head of all this lawyer-talk. Gil, are you riding again yet? Want to come along?”

  For an instant, Gil had a vision of the open moors and a fast horse under him. How he longed to! Gus was a hard rider, and it would be a challenge to match his pace. Just a few weeks ago, he would have accepted like a shot, with silver on the outcome. Today, his mind was elsewhere.

  “Thank you, but I am going to play backgammon with Lady Gil, if she is willing.”

  “Ah well, far be it for me to come between a man and his wife,” Gus said, grinning.

  The brothers drifted out of the room and dispersed, leaving Merton still busily making notes.

  Gil collected a backgammon set and made his way to Genista’s room. As he knocked on the door, he was unaccountably nervous. No matter how many times he told himself that she was his wife, and he was perfectly entitled to spend time with her if he wished it, he was not sure he wanted to face the humiliation of being turned away by one of Connie’s many sisters.

  It was Lady Humphrey who open the door, however. She smiled, and stood aside for him to enter.

  “Lord Gilbert. What a pleasant surprise.”

  He stepped into the room, feeling a little like an intruder, for it was very much a lady’s bedchamber, with flowery wallpaper and delicate furnishings, the bed curtains drawn back to reveal the neatly turned sheets and soft pillows. He was assailed with a longing to slide between those sheets with Genista, to wrap his arms around her and sleep with that glorious mass of hair tickling his nose. As he was fully entitled to do, he thought indignantly. But there was no use in strutting around like a farmyard cockerel, talking about entitlement. He must do whatever Genista wanted now.

  “I thought Lady Gil might like to play backgammon,” he said, gesturing at the box.

  “I see.” Then she leaned closer, eyes twinkling, and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Has Lord Carrbridge approved your visit?”