The Highwayman's Daughter

by Henriette Gyland

  ‘My cousin? I thought we had already discussed the matter.’

  ‘There’s more. I’m convin—’

  His explanation was interrupted by the butler, who entered the room after the briefest of knocks. Jack threw up his hands in exasperation. ‘Pardon my intrusion, m’lord, but there’s trouble in the south field. A bullock has knocked down a fence, and the horses are bolting from the paddock. The grooms and the stable lads are rounding them up but they need your opinion as to the fence. The damage is quite significant, I’m given to understand.’

  The earl rose immediately. To Jack he said – with relief, he thought – ‘We’ll have to postpone our conversation.’

  After his father had left the room, the countess rose as well, and slid her arm through Jack’s. ‘You must understand, it causes your father some distress to talk about his cousin. But I’m familiar with the captain’s story, so why don’t you accompany me on my morning walk and we can talk about it?’

  ‘Are you certain, Mother? I’m going to be very blunt on the matter.’

  ‘Fie, Jack!’ She slapped him on the arm with mock seriousness. ‘Do you think us women to be such delicate creatures that we must always be coddled?’

  ‘No, I suppose not,’ he conceded. There was certainly nothing feeble about Cora.

  ‘Good, because I didn’t rear you to be such a mealy-mouth. Now come, let’s walk. I’ve tied a posy for little Henry’s grave and I’m most anxious to hear why you sent for a spare set of clothes as well as the carriage.’ She winked mischievously and let him guide her through the tall glass doors and down the steps to the park.

  They strode along until they reached the family mausoleum, where the countess placed a pretty posy of summer flowers in front of the plaque bearing the name of Jack’s younger brother, Henry, who had died from a childhood fever. Jack stepped back to give his mother some privacy, and she stood there for a few moments in front of the plaque. Then with a sigh and a sad smile she turned around and slid her arm back through Jack’s.

  ‘Let’s go to the garden. I do so enjoy sitting there.’

  The formal garden was rich with summer blooms; the countess ducked under an arch covered in climbing roses, whose heady scent filled the air, and seated herself on a moss-covered stone bench. Jack followed and sat down beside her.

  It was hard knowing where to start, so he decided to get straight to the heart of the matter. ‘I’ve fallen in love, and I wish to seek Father’s permission to marry.’

  His mother sent him a puzzled look. ‘I was under the impression you wanted to talk about Captain Blythe.’

  ‘I’m coming to that. It’s a related matter.’

  ‘How so?’ his mother said, arching her eyebrows. ‘Who, may I ask, is the lucky lady, and where is she at present?’

  ‘She ran off. But don’t worry, I’ll find her. I always do.’

  He grimaced. Cora was determined to give him the slip, but he was equally determined to find her. He guessed that she’d left because she was afraid her identity might be discovered, and she had good reason. Jack didn’t know how far Rupert had got in his investigations, but if he’d also succeeded in uncovering who the thief was, he’d have to pay him for his silence.

  However, he’d deal with that problem later.

  His mother sent him a startled look. ‘Ran off? You’re not intending to wed a lady against her will, I hope.’

  ‘It’s complicated, but she does need a little persuading. And she’s no lady,’ Jack added.

  ‘Is she a merchant’s daughter, perchance? Or the vicar’s eldest? I do recall you were rather taken with her beauty as some point.’

  ‘No, Mother. Cora Mardell is from a labouring family, or at least that’s how she was reared.’

  ‘The lower classes?’ The countess stared at him. ‘I understand that young people may wish to marry for love, but would a lady of good breeding not be more appropriate? Then your wife would belong to the same sphere as you. There’s also a bride’s dowry to consider; an estate is expensive to run, and an injection of cash is always welcome. One day, when your father is … gone you will have to carry the burden of that responsibility. Do not dismiss it lightly. However lovely this young woman is.’

  ‘She has no dowry, that’s true, but there’s more to it than that.’

  ‘More!’ she exclaimed. ‘Dear Jack, you’re the next in line to an earldom, and you wish to marry a low-born girl. What could be more inappropriate?’

  ‘I’m convinced she’s not low-born at all.’

  ‘You’re convinced? Pray, is there some doubt about the lady’s parentage?’

  ‘I believe she is the daughter of Captain Blythe, father’s cousin. The resemblance between them is too striking to ignore.’

  ‘So, in addition to belonging to the lower classes she’s also illegitimate.’

  The countess’s voice rose a notch, but Jack chose to ignore it. ‘Not only do I believe her to be his child, I have cause to believe that she’s also the daughter of Lady Heston.’

  ‘Lady Heston? But she has only sons.’

  ‘I’m referring to the first Lady Heston,’ Jack explained. ‘The one who ran away after the birth of her child.’

  ‘But the baby died!’

  Jack shook his head. ‘Cora’s father, the man who brought her up as his own, switched the babies that night.’ Jack pushed his fingers through his hair, piqued that the discussion wasn’t going quite as he had hoped. He’d never thought his mother a snob, but perhaps he’d been mistaken. ‘So although Cora’s not a lady by birth, she’s a lady by blood.’

  His mother rose abruptly, her face drained of colour. ‘You cannot marry this girl.’

  ‘I understand that you and Father might be worried about the scandal, but no one need know her true parentage. She’s the daughter of a man named Ned Mardell and I would marry her under that name, so …’

  ‘You cannot marry her,’ the countess repeated. ‘It is impossible!’

  ‘Impossible? Because she’s low-born? It may be unusual, but surely it’s not unheard of.’

  ‘It has nothing to do with her social class. It—’ The countess brought her hand to her mouth. ‘Your father and I … we … Oh, this is too much to bear!’

  Puzzled and with a growing sense of unease, Jack rose too and took her hands in his. ‘What is too much to bear? It cannot be that bad.’

  The countess wrenched away. ‘Your father and I weren’t always happy.’

  ‘I have often sensed a strained relationship between you, but how is this relevant? Are you not happy together now?’ His observations had pained him, and he truly hoped their relationship had improved.

  His mother looked back at him with a sad smile, the same smile he had seen at the mausoleum. ‘Yes, for the most part. Ours was an arranged marriage, as I’m sure you must know, and although the choice of husband wasn’t mine, I believed it imperative, as my parents did, that a woman should marry well. I put all thoughts of my preferred beau from my mind, but I believe your father was still in love with another when we married. It saddened me, but I did all I could to be a dutiful and loving wife in the hope that he would come around in time. Then, to our great joy we had you, and later little Henry.’

  Jack swallowed hard. Although he had been but five years old at the time of Henry’s death, the reminder of his family’s loss always brought a lump to his throat.

  ‘There was a time after little Henry died that I … Well, the thought of losing another child caused me so much anguish that I rejected my husband. I know he sought comfort in the arms of another – he had a man’s needs after all – and I’ve always suspected he took up again with the lady whom he’d loved before our marriage.’

  ‘Who was this lady?’

  ‘Oh, dear Jack,’ she said and reached out to caress his cheek. ‘Will you not sit?’

  ‘If it pleases you, Mother, but only if you sit with me.’

  Having made sure his mother was comfortable, he sat down beside her. ‘Please con
tinue,’ he said, trying to keep his voice level; his mother had alarmed him with her reaction. ‘Who was my father’s lover?’

  ‘He never said, and I never pressed him. Only that she was the wife of someone in our close acquaintance. When Lady Heston took flight in the middle of the night with her newborn babe, and Geoffrey seemed so affected by her death, I … well, I drew my own conclusions.’

  A sliver of ice ran down Jack’s spine as her words sank in. Cora bore a striking likeness to the captain, but there were similarities to his own father too. He had thought this merely due to the fact his father and the captain were cousins, but what his mother had just said gave it a whole new significance. His father had been unfaithful to his mother with the wife of a close acquaintance. What if …

  The blood left his face as realisation ripped into him. There could be no happy ending for him and Cora, only the shame and pain of incest, inadvertently committed, but committed all the same. Unable to speak or think, or to perceive anything but ugliness and despair, he turned on his heel and left the rose garden to wander aimlessly through the park until the shadows grew long. By the time he finally turned in for the night his limbs were heavy and leaden, as if he’d aged ten years in a single day, but still only the one thought occupied his mind.

  He had made love to his own sister.

  Chapter Twenty

  Watching Lord Heston from afar as he oversaw the harvest, Cora waited patiently for an opportunity to catch the man on his own. He spent most of the day in the company of Master Kit, and she was just about to give up when she saw him sending the young man on his way and rode off towards the apple orchard.

  Cautiously, she followed Heston, taking care to stay out of his line of sight. Seemingly unaware of her presence, he inspected the apple trees, which had already begun to drop unripened fruit. Finally, as the day was drawing to a close, Lord Heston turned his horse around and began to make his way back to his estate.

  Satisfied that he was alone, that her mask was in place and her pistol in working order, Cora pushed out from the cover of a densely laden apple tree and blocked his path.

  ‘I say, what’s the meaning of this? Am I to be held up on my own land? It’s an outrage!’

  His words were impassioned, but his voice was cold, almost biting, and Cora felt a shiver run down her spine. She thought of her natural mother, a gentle and fever-sick lady, scared out of her wits by this man, and her resolve hardened. Pushing up her mask and with her eyes boring into his, she said, ‘I wish to speak to you, Lord Heston.’

  ‘I know you,’ he said and pointed an accusing finger at her. ‘You’re one of my labourers. I hardly think the likes of you can have anything to say to me which will be of interest.’

  ‘Actually, you might find that I do,’ Cora replied tersely. ‘The magistrate is holding a man in his cellar. My father, Ned Mardell, and he’s innocent of the charges laid against him. I want you to use your influence with the magistrate to ensure his release.’

  Lord Heston regarded her as if struck dumb; then his laughter, low and menacing, echoed in the dusk. Cora’s pistol hand shook a little, but she willed it steady. She’d heard a thing or two about Lord Heston over the years, none of them particularly flattering, but to secure Ned’s release from prison she was willing to do a deal with the Devil himself.

  ‘Pray, why on Earth would I do such a thing?’ he said. ‘If your father’s been apprehended by the magistrate, it must be because he’s not as innocent as you suppose.’

  It was as if Lord Heston could see right through her. Had she not thought so herself only recently; that Ned was not entirely innocent of wrong-doing? ‘Who is completely innocent,’ she countered, ‘except perhaps a newborn babe?’

  Lord Heston’s eyes narrowed to mere slits as he studied her face, as if he wondered where she was going with this conversation.

  ‘Ned Mardell raised me as his daughter,’ Cora continued. ‘He gave me these items to use as leverage, claiming that they belonged to your first wife. The ring was a gift from you, I assume: it’s inscribed with a C.’ She held up the miniature and the ring. For a moment Lord Heston remained deadly quiet, and if Cora hadn’t made a habit of observing people, she could easily have overlooked his well-concealed agitation.

  ‘May I see?’ he said at length.

  Moving closer, Cora handed him the items and then dug her pistol into his ribs.

  ‘There’s really no need for that, young lady. I have no intention of destroying your trinkets with a pistol aimed at my heart, which, by the way, is the least sensitive part of me.’

  Cora retreated a little, seeing that he spoke a certain amount of sense, and allowed him to examine the miniature and the ring. Finally he handed them back to her with a shrug.

  ‘The miniature did indeed belong to my late wife. It was originally her mother’s, but upon her death it came to Sophia. The ring I’ve never seen before; I wasn’t aware that she owned such a sentimental piece of jewellery, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t. My former wife had many secrets. What I would like to know is how they came to be in your possession.’

  ‘Through the woman who called herself my mother,’ said Cora. ‘Sarah Duval. Your wife’s maid.’

  This time there was no doubt he was rattled. His nostrils flared, and he gripped his horse’s reins so hard his hands shook. ‘Sarah Duval,’ he sneered. ‘That thieving, conniving floozie …’

  ‘Not so. She was a loving wife and mother,’ Cora countered, taken aback by the vehemence of his reaction to her foster-mother, who could have been nothing but a simple maid to him.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said, his voice once again under control, ‘why I should help anyone associated with that hussy? She’s brought me nothing but grief.’

  ‘Because not only am I the adopted child of Sarah Duval, I’m also the natural daughter of your first wife, Lady Sophia. These trinkets, as you call them, are proof of my identity.’

  Lord Heston’s face turned ashen. ‘Her daughter? How? That’s not possible! The child died with her.’

  Cora shook her head. ‘My father was … well, he was there, and he switched the babies because she implored him to.’ She levelled her pistol at him. ‘She feared what you might do to me when you discovered that I couldn’t possibly be yours.’

  ‘It’s nothing compared to what I might do to you now,’ he muttered with a curl of his lip. ‘What do you want from me?’

  ‘All I ask is that you get the man who has been my father these many years out of gaol. I’ve no intention of laying further claims on you or your property if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘Then I shall let it be known that you drove your wife to her death and buried the wrong child in the family plot. You’ll be a laughing stock.’

  He glowered at her; then he shrugged. ‘Who would believe you? The word of a simple country girl against that of a respected nobleman? Anything you may choose to use as proof, like these trinkets here, are stolen goods belonging to my family’s estate – you’d be transported, I imagine. Or worse.’

  Cora shivered but held her head high. ‘But you believe me?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘as a matter of fact, I do. I always knew Sophia must have taken a lover, although I never guessed his identity. They were far too careful for that. I can see now that you are indeed her daughter. There are … certain features, although your eyes are not from her. You’ll have a hard time proving it though, and features can be – how shall I put it? – “improved” upon. You may wish to consider that,’ he added with an unpleasant smile.

  It took all the self-control Cora possessed not to shoot him there and then. The man was evil; she could sense it with her entire being, and the world would probably be a better place without him, but she was no murderess.

  ‘And the ring?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve already told you, I didn’t give it to her. Her lover must have done, and I’m grateful to you for having provided me with his identity.’r />
  Cora scoffed. ‘I’ve done nothing of the sort. But since my mother – both my mothers – are in their graves you cannot harm them. I’ve learned that I resemble Captain Blythe, the black sheep of the Lampton family, and I have no reason to doubt my source. The captain’s given name was Cecil – the C must refer to him, not you.’

  ‘Your powers of observation are quite remarkable, wench, but in this case I fear you may be wrong. It could be a C, but the script is so detailed it’s hard to tell.’ A knowing grin spilled across his lips, and he shrugged. ‘This looks more like a G to me.’

  ‘G? But who—’

  ‘Someone close to the captain, someone else with a family resemblance – his cousin, Geoffrey Blythe, perhaps. Also known as Lord Lampton.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  Cora’s pistol hand started to shake again, and her finger tightened on the trigger, almost instinctively, but she willed herself to steady it. Another small smile from Lord Heston told her that her reaction hadn’t passed him by. Damn him to Hell, she thought.

  ‘I’m quite sure you heard every word, but I shall repeat them if you wish. I never saw Captain Blythe show any particular regard for Sophia, but Lampton was always very attentive to her. Perhaps you’re the daughter of my first wife and my neighbour, and not his cousin as you supposed.’

  Cora stared at the ring; then back at Lord Heston, wide-eyed, as the implications hit her. Last night she and Jack had lain together; if what Lord Heston claimed was true, then that would mean … No, it couldn’t be true. She refused to believe it.

  ‘You’re lying!’ Even as she denied it, she felt herself crumble inside.

  Lord Heston arched his eyebrows in query. ‘Why, you’ve gone quite pale. How can this new information possibly affect you? You should rejoice in your connections, however illegitimate. Now you can confront the earl about his shady past, and in return for your silence maybe he’ll secure your father’s release. And pay you handsomely too, no doubt.’