“I could never have believed it.” Rose sounded equally shocked. She put an arm around Ada. “You know I never quite believed he was good enough for you—but I never doubted Laurence loved you beyond all things.”
“I think he loves me in a way,” Ada said calmly. “But he isn’t brave enough to be honest with himself about what he truly wants, about who he truly is. He wants a version of me that doesn’t exist. He wants a version of himself that doesn’t exist. And I—I want the truth. Mirages won’t do for me. I have realized that now.”
Rose sat down suddenly on the bed. “But what are you going to do?” she said, looking up at Ada. “The wedding is today. Can you go through with it, knowing what you know?”
Ada was silent.
Georgiana turned to her. The entire horror of the situation now struck her. Do what she might, Ada was faced with a terrible choice. “Ada?” she said. “What are you going to do?”
Ada shook her head.
“I don’t know. I must have time to think.” She looked up at Rose. “You were right all along. I knew you were, but I didn’t admit it. I was as cowardly as Laurence, in my own way. I didn’t understand him, and I didn’t understand myself. I am sorry.”
“Oh, Ada, you must never apologize to me!” Rose got up and put her arms around her. Holding her close, she said, “I have so much to apologize for too. I was caught up in my own emotions, I didn’t see that you were struggling. I should have been there for you, I should have been a better sister.”
“You have always been the best of sisters—both of you,” Ada said warmly. She hesitated. “And…if I have been the cause of any misunderstanding between you and the Duke of Huntleigh, I am very sorry. I took my assessment of his character from Laurence, but now I—I think my source may not have been the most reliable judge.”
Rose shook her head sadly. “He’s gone,” she said quietly. “I made my decision, and it’s over.”
Ada looked at her in sudden surprise. “He proposed, then?”
Rose nodded. “I rejected him,” she said, her voice trembling.
“Oh dear, all these unhappy love stories!” Georgiana exclaimed. A few months ago, the season had seemed so full of promise, she had dreamed of beginning her own first season. And now…now it seemed that nothing was that simple. Love could end even though it was true love. Love could be false love, or the wrong kind of love, or love that came at the wrong time to the right people, or at the right time to the wrong people. She had thought it as solid and immutable as a diamond, but it seemed to be as changeable and varied as the weather.
“I must think,” Ada said. “I must be alone, I hope you understand.”
“Of course we do,” Rose said, and Georgiana echoed her. Together, they left the room silently.
London
Michael paced back and forth across the sickroom. He had had little sleep, and had been waking every hour to administer the medicine the doctor had left for Priya. All sense of time had fled from him, and he sometimes thought he was dreaming as he walked.
“Michael…” Priya’s voice was feeble and hoarse, but she had spoken. She was awake.
He threw himself forward, kneeling at her bedside. He pressed her hand. Her thick eyelashes fluttered like shadows on her cheeks. “Priya!”
“It’s all right,” she whispered. Even now, she was comforting him.
“Are you thirsty? Can I get you anything?” he asked. “The doctor will be back soon. You’re safe now, nothing will harm you again. I promise.”
He was desperate to protect her. Her fingers tightened on his. His eyes filled with tears “Priya, I want you to know that I’ll kill William.”
“No! You must promise not to.”
“Why should I?” He saw her flinch, and lowered his voice. “Damn it, I will, but I don’t understand why you want to protect the monster.”
“It’s not him I want to protect. It’s you. I don’t want to see you go to prison. I couldn’t bear that. Promise me you won’t do anything foolish.”
Michael could hear the fear and panic in her voice. He swallowed. “Very well, I promise.”
“Thank you.” Her head fell wearily back on the pillow and he saw her smile faintly. “We’ll have a little house, won’t we, Michael?”
He clutched her fingers. “Yes. With a garden for the child to play in.”
“And there’ll be fruit trees. And enough room for my parents when they grow old.”
“Plenty of room for all of them, and your brothers too.” He could see the house in his mind’s eye. The roses growing around the door, the hens pecking in the yard. Maybe a swing hanging from the apple tree…
A look of sudden pain crossed her face, and she groaned. Michael saw terror in her eyes. “The baby,” she gasped.
Michael leapt up and rang the bell. He threw open the door and shouted down the corridor: “Get the doctor! Quick! Now!”
Somerton
Rose stood silently as Céline busied herself with putting the finishing touches to the delicate folds of her bridesmaid’s gown. To her right, Georgiana, being dressed by Annie, was just as silent, and Rose could see, when she glanced into the mirror, the furrow of anxiety between her eyebrows. She felt pained by it. Georgiana was too young, she thought, to be burdened like this.
Céline and Annie seemed to sense that something was wrong, for they hurried about their work silently. Rose could take no pleasure in the dress. All her thoughts were with Ada, all the thoughts she could not speak aloud in front of the maids. What would Ada do? What would she decide?
As if reading her mind, Céline murmured, “Perhaps Annie and I might go and see if Lady Ada is ready to be dressed yet, my lady. It will take some time to get the dress quite perfect.”
Rose hesitated. They had left Ada alone an hour, and it was now nine o’clock. She knew Céline was right, but she hated to hurry Ada. “I suppose you must,” she said reluctantly.
As soon as Céline and Annie had gone, Georgiana sat down on the bed, her face the picture of misery. “Oh, Rose, what will we do?” she asked in an undertone. “I don’t want Ada to marry that awful man now. Of course I don’t. But how can she refuse? The guests are downstairs!”
“Calm yourself. I’m sure Ada will make the right decision.” Rose went toward her and pressed her sister’s hands between her own. “And it—it isn’t always necessary, you know, to marry for love.…” Her voice failed her, and she could not meet Georgiana’s candid eyes.
“Isn’t it? Do you really think that?” Georgiana’s voice had a note of bitterness in it, and again Rose winced to hear it.
She knew Ada had a hard choice ahead of her. Could she truly marry Laurence under such circumstances? If she did not, how would the family escape Sir William’s debts? She longed for Ada to refuse to marry him, but she knew that even if the financial situation were not so pressing, Ada would have little support in such a decision. No one was so foolish, she had learned, as to think that in society one married for love.
“No,” she said in a low voice. “But if Ada chooses to marry Lord Fintan, we mustn’t judge her. We must support her.”
There was a quick knock at the door, and Céline came in. She looked frightened, and she held an envelope in her hand. “My lady, I could not find her,” she began. “She was not in her room. It seems that she has dressed herself, and perhaps she has simply gone for a walk, but…this envelope was on the dressing table.”
She handed the envelope to Rose, who took it. It was addressed to their father. A thousand thoughts rushed through her mind. Of course, Ada could just have gone for a walk. But then why leave a note? Her fingers trembled and the writing moved before her eyes. She looked down. Georgiana was gazing at her with wide eyes. “We must take this to Father,” she said, only just managing to keep her voice from shaking.
As she went out of the room, Rose’s foot knocked against something by the door. She looked down to see a corner of white paper, protruding from under the carpet. Georgiana and Céline were ju
st ahead of her, and she bent to pick the paper up. It was a second envelope, and this one was addressed to her, also in Ada’s handwriting.
“Rose, are you coming?” Georgiana called back to her.
Rose slipped the envelope that was addressed to her into her pocket and hurried after them. Her heart beat uncomfortably fast as she went down the stairs. She could hear the raised voices of the guests as they milled in the reception rooms. The study door was ajar and she followed Georgiana in.
Laurence, a frightened, mutinous expression on his face, was standing behind Lord Westlake’s great desk, almost as if it were a defense. The earl and countess were having a furious whispered conversation by the fireplace. Rose heard the countess say, “…can make no difference,” and the earl reply, “My dear, have you no sensitivity at all to her feelings?”
“Father, Ada isn’t in her room,” Rose said, coming forward, holding out the envelope Céline had found. She kept the other hidden behind her back. “There may be a normal explanation, but…this was left on the dressing table.”
Her father’s expression showed at once that he understood what the note might be. He ripped open the envelope and read in silence. Laurence came forward anxiously and hovered at his side.
“My goodness, don’t keep us all waiting! What has happened?” the countess demanded.
“Here, read it—you may as well all know. I see no way of keeping this quiet.” Lord Westlake threw the note into her hands and clapped his hands to his face, rubbing his forehead hard. He sighed and paced away. “Damn it, I can’t blame her. I am an example of what happens when you marry without love.”
Georgiana and Rose exchanged a look and moved to read over the countess’s shoulder. Rose took in the few lines at a glance:
Dear Papa, Please forgive me. I have gone away to think. I will shall be staying with Miss Hannah Darford in London. Laurence should marry Charlotte. I think they will be happy together. Love, Ada
Rose could hardly repress a smile. She knew it was a catastrophe—knew that this could plunge her family into financial ruin—but she could not help it. She was glad, glad that Ada had rebelled against the life planned out for her, had followed her heart.
“Damn it, how dare she!” Laurence exclaimed.
“How dare she?” the earl roared at him. “Your behavior, sir, was scandalous, improper—”
“I don’t try to excuse myself, but it’s no reason to act in such an insane manner,” Laurence retorted.
“But what are we to do?” the countess interrupted, sounding as close to hysterical as Rose had ever heard her.
“Do about what? Ada appears to have done everything that needs doing; I see nothing we can do in response,” the earl replied.
“Do about the wedding, I mean! She simply cannot do this. She may not do this. I forbid it!”
“But she has done it,” Rose said. Her hand closed on the other note, the one addressed to her. There was something more to the story, she was sure.
“Well, she must be brought back again! I am not facing all our guests and telling them there is to be no wedding—”
“Is to be no wedding?” the Duchess of Ellingborough said, sweeping through the door. “But I distinctly understood that I was invited to the wedding of Lady Ada and Lord Fintan. Has something untoward happened?”
Cooper hovered in the doorway of the drawing room. Tea had been served, and served again, and he could see guests beginning to glance at the clock with hungry expressions. He glanced to the breakfast room, where James and Thomas were shifting from foot to foot, glancing toward the door.
“Why aren’t they going in to breakfast?” he moaned under his breath.
“Cooper, what is the matter? Have you any idea why the breakfast is not being served?” The rector hovered by his elbow, anxiety sweating from him. “At this rate we shall be late for the service.”
“I am afraid, sir, I am as much in the dark as you are,” Cooper murmured back.
“I don’t see Lord Westlake anywhere. Or, for that matter, the bride and groom.”
The Duchess of Ellingborough sailed into the room. Cooper heard her ringing tones as she addressed the vicar. “It seems there is not to be a wedding after all. It seems quite unreasonable, after I have taken the trouble to come from London. Young girls these days hardly seem to know what they want.”
“No wedding!” The vicar looked scandalized. “It can’t be true. I must speak to the countess at once.”
Guests crowded around the duchess.
“My dear Lady Ellingborough, can this be correct, is the wedding really off?”
“What a terrible shame!”
“No wedding,” Cooper repeated in horror and disbelief. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.” He fled back to the servants’ quarters. His first thought was how Mrs. McRory would take the news. He nearly fell over Martha and Annie, who were right behind the baize door.
“Oh sir, is it true? Is Lady Ada really in London?” Annie gasped.
“You—er—you shouldn’t be eavesdropping,” Cooper tried but failed to maintain his dignity. “In London? What is she doing in London? Who said that?”
“Martha said Tobias said—” Annie began, then shut her mouth quickly as Mrs. McRory loomed behind them.
“Cooper? What is happening out there? Why are the guests not at breakfast? This is most disorderly. I have done my part and I expect you to do yours.”
“I don’t know why they’re not at breakfast,” Cooper said. “I have tried, Mrs. McRory, but there appears to be some delay.”
“Delay! Not in my household. You must make them go into breakfast.”
“H-how?” Cooper asked.
“Oh Mrs. McRory, they say there’s to be no wedding! What are we to do with all the cake?” Sarah burst out.
“No wedding?” Mrs. McRory gave her a disbelieving glance, gathered her skirts in her hands and charged forward, through the baize doors. She looked this way and that, just as Cooper saw Georgiana and Sebastian hurrying past. Mrs. McRory sallied forth.
“My lady, a word, if you please.”
Cooper, Annie, and Martha watched with bated breath through the crack of the door. Mrs. McRory blocked Georgiana’s way, her arms folded.
“I must know, my lady: Is there to be a wedding, or isn’t there?” she asked with dangerous politeness.
Sebastian and Georgiana looked at each other.
“There…will…probably be a wedding…we think…as far as we know…at the moment,” Georgiana stammered.
Mrs. McRory turned several shades of purple and Cooper was almost sure small jets of steam burst from her ears. “Then I must say, I have no further desire to serve in this household, thank you very much, my lady.” She rose onto her tiptoes and shook her finger in Georgiana’s face. “A wedding is the kind of event that should definitely occur or definitely not occur—there is no such thing as being probably married, you think, as far as you know at the moment. There may be in France. But I am glad to say I know nothing of such disorderly matters. Good day, my lady. I wish you the greatest success with your search for a new housekeeper.”
“Mrs. McRory, you don’t mean to say you’re giving notice!” Sebastian exclaimed.
“I am indeed, sir.”
“Hooray!” exclaimed Cooper, then clapped a hand to his mouth. The door swung shut just as Mrs. McRory swiveled to glare at him. Martha and Annie stared at him in disbelief, then broke into giggles. Cooper flushed, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.
London
Michael, seated in the armchair in Mrs. Cliffe’s sitting room, swayed as he tried to stay awake. The doctor had been in with Priya for a long time—Michael could not have said how long exactly—and Michael had been pacing back and forth until finally exhaustion had forced him to sit down. Now he drifted in and out of heavy, tangled dreams. At one point he opened his eyes to find that someone had brought him tea and toast—not that he had the stomach to touch it. He heard footsteps and whispering in the corridor, and once a ma
id peeked around the door at him. But it was hard to know what was real and what was a nightmare.
All the things he had seen in the last twenty-four hours came rushing back to him as soon as he closed his eyes. Emaciated children, dead-eyed women, Priya’s pale face and distended stomach as she lay like a corpse in that awful shack. He jerked awake at the sound of gunfire, but it was just a cart rattling by over the cobbles.
Mrs. Cliffe was in the room, standing by the window, her arms crossed as if to defend herself.
“How is she?” he managed to ask.
“I’ve heard nothing.” Her face was pale, and she had shadows under her eyes.
“You must prepare yourself,” she was saying, but then he slipped back into sleep, into the horrors of dream. Something had slipped through his fingers, something small and essential, like a key.
He woke with a start. “Where—!” he started to cry out, his voice slowed as if it were struggling through thick mud.
“Mr. Templeton?”
The doctor’s voice jerked him awake once again. Dazed, drunk with exhaustion, Michael sat up. The doctor was looking at him anxiously. Mrs. Cliffe was crying, her handkerchief pressed to her face.
“I am sorry,” the doctor was saying. His sleeves were rolled up, and he looked pale and drawn.
Michael shook his head. The man didn’t understand. He didn’t care that the baby was someone else’s. He only cared about looking after Priya.
“I want to see them.”
“Sir, I don’t advise it.” The doctor’s face was very pale. “I am so sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Michael, sitting forward. It seemed important to make the doctor understand that he wasn’t ashamed of Priya, but proud of her bravery. “I’m going to marry her, you see. Then I’ll adopt the child, and no one will care.”
They stared at him in silence.
“Michael,” said Mrs. Cliffe. She came up to him and put her hand on his shoulder, a soft, motherly touch. “My dear, do you know what has happened? Do you understand?”
Diamonds and Deceit (At Somerton) Page 26
