A Perilous Marriage

by Kelly, Isobel

  Lucie thought back to the last time she had spoken with Richard, when he had told her not to worry. It seemed she had gained a considerate husband who guarded her welfare. She must try not to give him cause to regret their marriage, even if it lasted only a short while as it was bound to do. Now her grandmother was gone, there was no need to tie him to her side and spoil his life…or perhaps only one vital need. She had to be assured that Tasker could no longer trouble her, though even that should be assured now she was out of reach. He would have to search for another bride if he wished to be married.

  Trying not to let her mind drift into melancholy with the recent happenings, she took her time. When she walked into the small dining room, despite the fact she was dressed in black, her gleaming hair was brushed high with curls and she looked gorgeous.

  Richard gazed at her in awe as he walked forward, took her hand, and kissed it. “You look how I have always dreamed my countess should look…simply beautiful.”

  “I think you exaggerate, my lord, but it is kind of you to say so. And also kind of you to let me sleep and take on the burden of preparing for the funeral.”

  “There are many hands available to take the weight, Lucie. You and I have the overall responsibility, but because of her rank and the fact I have discovered today how well loved and respected she was by the entire household, I feel they should be given a chance to do what they are so anxious to do in your grandmother’s memory. If you wish otherwise, then please do say so.”

  “Oh dear, I hadn’t thought that far.” She gazed back at him, her eyes bright with tears and her body tremulous with emotion. “She was so well loved by everyone, I am remiss in not realising there are more than just me who will be mourning.”

  “I understand. You are too close to all the happenings of the last few days. Come, we will relax, eat, and get to know more about each other. I’d prefer it if we acted like a loving couple with an intimacy of knowing each other well beforehand, even if newly brought to that union only hours ago. We shall be faced with a crowd of people who will watch all we do. Less gossip afterwards will be important. For myself, I could not care, but for your status, I regard it imperative. Hasty marriages are never looked on with favour. Do you understand? Can you act, my love?”

  His eyes twinkled at her as he led her to her chair. “Oh, while I think of it, may I have my signet ring back? I had quite forgotten, with the trauma of Eleanor and our wedding, I should have brought to the event something I have had hidden in my belongings for many years. Just before she died, my mother gave me for safe keeping her marriage ring and the matching jewellery to go with it. If she hadn’t, it would have been sold and spent. If you will allow me, I will exchange it for my ring.”

  He opened out a small packet and showed her a dainty gold ring with a large diamond affixed, diamond earrings, and a pendant with a large diamond surrounded by smaller ones, all set in gold, hanging on a slender chain. He took up the ring and slid it onto her finger, not surprised it fitted perfectly. His mother had been a small woman with dainty hands. She had known that by entrusting the jewels to her favourite son, if her husband didn’t have the keeping of them he could not have sold them for gambling money.

  Just then, Rowten and a footman walked in to serve luncheon, so she softly murmured, “They are absolutely beautiful, and I will take care of them before I hand them back. I will also try to do what you want.”

  "I'm happy knowing her jewels are in better hands than locked in my case. They should be on show, particularly the ring. Whatever the future, they are yours to keep."

  Knowing she still thought there would be an annulment, he almost gave away his thoughts but decided the less said the better. She would know soon enough. She was quiet during luncheon to start with, surprised at his gift, except further reflection made her realise how sensible it was. She would have to portray a contented wife and make it seem like a planned marriage. Not a role that would be easy, but she would try her best. Soon, the conversation gathered substance and they reached the point where Richard was trying to describe his home and talking of how he wanted to change things and bring in more comfort. “The country around is hilly and picturesque. I was able to explore it to my heart's content when I was young. It won't have changed much, I wager.”

  By the time they rose, she was amazed at how involved she had become in his plans and, even stranger, found herself wishing their marriage could carry on long enough to see the results.

  * * * *

  There was an unexpected obstacle when they left the dining room as she said, "Do you need me for anything, my lord? If not, I shall be in the garden with Butters.”

  “Can you try saying Richard instead of lording me? I would also prefer you to stay indoors for now.” His voice was suddenly terse and edging towards irritable.

  “Why? I am used to going in the garden after lunch.”

  “Hmm. Unfortunately, trespassers have been seen in the park. No doubt curious, but I will not have you bothered by nosy gatecrashers.”

  “Surely they won’t come near the house?”

  “Lucie!” His voice was firm. “You will not go into the garden.”

  For heaven’s sake, what had she done by marrying him? Tied herself to a bully? A husband determined to rule her no matter that her wishes were to the contrary? She glowered. She would begin as she meant to go on. Most definitely, she would not knuckle under.

  "I will go into the garden if I want to. You cannot stop me."

  Richard knew he had used too heavy a hand, but he was anxious about the likelihood of Tasker, infuriated at being bested, trying to cause a problem in spite of all the safeguards he had put in place. Until they left the area or he knew Tasker was engaged with other interests, she was not safe, no matter how many people watched out for her. The hardening reaction of his body when she’d walked into the dining room made him regret the promise he had made her that their marriage would be one of convenience. The way he felt at this moment was an uncomfortable physical frustration and discomfort. Instead of going to the study and getting on with his work, he wanted to carry her up to his bed and make her truly his bride.

  “You are mistaken, Lucie. It would be easy to stop you, but I prefer you to agree if I ask you to obey my orders.” Again, he was being heavy handed, but unexpectedly, he felt adrift, trying to keep hold of a situation that was getting out of control.

  “Act like a loving couple?” She scoffed at his earlier words. “Perhaps you ought to take lessons in acting yourself! Please recognize this is my home. I have lived here and done what I pleased all my life. I will not be dictated to!”

  “Yet you promised to obey when we married.”

  “Did I?” Had she? For the life of her she could not remember much about the service. It was all a blur in her mind. She had replied when necessary, but what had she agreed to?

  “Understand this, Lucie. You are my wife, and I will protect you from anyone who may seek to do you harm. Staying in the house is neither a punishment nor a penance. I am sure you have the staff to talk to and arrangements to make. Please don’t make things more difficult than they already are. Any death is hard to deal with, but this tragedy with your grandmother is far worse because it is so unexpected. If it has shocked us, think what it has done to her closest servants. They will need your help and guidance.”

  The glare left her eyes as he spoke. He was right. She was being difficult for no reason. How could she be so inconsiderate as to ignore the people she cared for? She was allowing her numbing grief to ride roughshod over the feelings of those who had tended both her and her grandmother for most of their lives, as well as taking it out on this…this pretend husband…this stranger who had innocently walked into a tragedy that was none of his making. It was her duty to put her misery to one side and help those who mourned the duchess. “I-I won’t go in the garden. I’ve remembered I have things to do upstairs. Please excuse me, my l—er, Richard. I will no doubt see you at dinner.” She headed for the stairs.


  Looking after her and remembering the way her chin went up in defiance, he knew he must not quench her pride. She was like one of the filly’s he had trained when staying on a ranch. Gentleness, to make them respond, was the only way. He sighed, anticipating that there was a long way to go before he could really make her his wife.

  Once upstairs in her sitting room, Lucie sat at her small secretaire desk with a pad and pen to hand, beginning the lists she needed to remind her of things she must do before the funeral took place. Her maid sat near with a pile of mending in her lap, as usual. Mary loved gossip, loved to pass it on and collect more. She gathered titbits from everywhere she could. She also loved to talk, so she was prattling on to Lucie in her own unstoppable way as she sewed, her busy fingers turning up a torn hem. Lucie, intent on her thoughts and plans for the funeral which was to take place in two days, listened with half an ear to the discourse, only interjecting now and then with a “Hmm,” or, “is that so?” Until, all at once, the words held greater significance, and she turned and looked at her maid. “What did you say? What was that about Mr Rowten and his Lordship?”

  “So cook heard from a footman that Mr Rowten said he knew his Lordship would have put up a fine pair of dabs if things had gone further and given the rogue a bloody nose.” Mary was happy to repeat the remark that had so excited her.

  “Dabs? You mean his fists? When was this?” Lucie asked as the meaning struck her.

  “When that neighbour called—you know, the man that married your friend who died. I forget his name, but he was after seeing you and insisting on it quite violently, so Sam said. He was standing in the hall, waiting to see if there was any trouble.

  “Sam?”

  “Yes, the new second footman. He’s a real strong man, I like him—”

  “Oh, get on with it, Mary—Lord Tasker was at the door and what...?”

  “Well, when this lord tried to insist, his lordship came to the door and sent him packing in no uncertain order. I believe he tried to cut up rough, in a manner of speaking, but he didn’t get nowhere with his lordship. He is a fine man, your husband. You must be pleased you married him. Bang up gentleman, Mr Rowten called him, he was that delighted.”

  Tasker! Oh heavens! He hadn’t given up as she thought he might. Perhaps he hadn’t heard the news and thought to see Eleanor again? No, he must have heard. The gossip would be rife in the village. So he had come after her? She felt stunned that her grandmother must have known in the hours after her accident how much at risk her granddaughter was and so taken the stance she had. Only yesterday, Richard had reacted in the same way and, as Mary said, sent Tasker packing. But why hadn’t Richard explained?

  A simple reason would have sufficed to alert her to the danger. Oh, damn it, she huffed in annoyance. These men were so set up in their own superiority they had to make difficulties where there were none. She let Mary go over the details again. Plainly, Edmund Tasker had tried to bully his way into the house and had been repelled, firstly by Rowten, trying his best, and next, Richard, who succeeded. No one, she felt sure, gainsaid Richard when he laid down the law, even her. Well, she supposed, there was something to be said about having a knight in shining armour on one’s side, even if it was only to be for a short time.

  * * * *

  Later that morning, Richard paid a visit to the Falcon to see Joe Hargreaves and discuss the removal of the carriage which was still lying on its side near the village pub.

  “My sincere thanks for all you did for the duchess,” Richard said while enjoying a tankard of ale at the bar. “I’m arranging to have the carriage moved shortly, but wanted to see it first where it came to grief to determine what happened. Nasty business, all told, and it has shocked a number of people that two wheels came off at the same time. As there is no telling why things could occur so quickly, and in that extraordinary way, I thought I’d look at the scene before we took the wreckage away.”

  “Aye, milord, dumbfounded I was when I heard the crash. Even more so when I had a good look after we got the duchess and her maid out. It fair puzzled me about the wheels. Uriah Jacobs has been boy and man at the House these last thirty years, and I’ve never heard it said he neglected his work. Kept all them carriages smart as a new pin, he did.”

  “Yes, that was my impression too. Someone else meddling, do you think?”

  “Aye crossed my mind too. But it ain’t one from roundabout here that I’d swear to. She was a lady loved and respected by all, even though she was high above the rest of us. Her granddaughter, too, is well thought of. Heard tell the lass got married. Quietly like, but seeing the circumstances we’ve got, it ain’t surprising. It’s the best thing to keep her safe and see her through this troubled affair. Anyhow, good luck to the lass.” He grinned and winked at Richard. “Good thing, too, if I know who the lucky man was!”

  “Yes, you do indeed, landlord, and it is very good! Cheers!” Richard raised his tankard. “Another of these for us both, please, and we’ll go see the carriage.”

  With the help of two labourers who were quaffing ale in the pub, Hargreaves and the Earl righted the carriage and propped it up safely to enable them to see the inner side. Both wheels were found lying on the roadside under the carriage. They were splintered and badly damaged, which was obviously accountable to the heavy weight of the vehicle as it toppled over. Moments passed as both men surveyed the wreckage, but it was soon clear that both hubs had not only been jemmied in some way to loosen the wheels, but some spokes had almost been sawn through. It would have taken force by an iron bar or some such rod to deal with the hubs and a strong man to wield it.

  Standing to one side, out of earshot of the labourers who, having done their job, were going back to finish their ale and hadn’t noted the problem with the hubs, Hargreaves nodded and stared fixedly at the Earl. “Both those cotter pins were tampered with, and I reckon the spokes were sawn a bit to make ’em split like that. No wonder the carriage went over. I’m surprised it got as far as our inn. I heard it was left at the church while the ladies went shopping. Milord, you suspected this, didn’t you? Have you a culprit in mind? Are you thinking of getting the police on it? We have a local bailiff, though he wouldn’t do for the likes of this. He don’t like dealing with anything out of his ken, if you understand me. Simple bloke…he’ll deal with vagrants and the like but nothing too difficult. Abingdon has constables, but maybe you might be thinking of the Bow Street men?”

  Richard frowned as his mind swiftly reviewed the options and probable scenarios that would take effect if a certain path was chosen, then shook his head. “Time has passed, and whoever did this thinks they are in the clear. Much better they should think that, or they will be off and away and we shall never see the going of them. Write what you have seen here on a sheet of paper, get someone to witness it without looking at what you’ve written, and hide it. In the meantime, I will get men from the house to collect the carriage, if only in piecemeal. It can lie in one of the barns until it is needed again. Whilst the law might be necessary to bring the miscreant to justice, there is, and will be with the funeral, too much going on to be effective just now. I’d rather leave it and later, review all aspects of the situation with a clear head. A motive must be found for such a diabolic act and the person who has engineered it caught and well and truly punished.”

  “Happen you have the right of it. I’ll gladly do what you suggest and write it all down. Anyone evil enough to do this to a fine old lady needs drawing and quartering, let alone hanging. I hope you get to the bottom of it and catch the varmint. Good luck to ye, milord.”

  * * * *

  If numbers were a measure for success, then the funeral of Eleanor Beatrix Braden, Duchess of Ashbury Mead, would break the record for distinguished deaths in the county throughout the last century, Richard mused, full of pride that his godmother had attained such a tremendous send-off. It felt as though most of the county had turned up, but that was likely an exaggeration, even if the village was inundated with people. There w
as no doubt that, in her quiet, capable way, she had been well-liked, and the subsequent tragedy of her death had further exalted her memory. Guarded on all sides, Lucie walked within a bubble of grieving solitude that Richard took care not to disturb, nor did he let anyone else invade that private moment as she paced slowly down the nave and took her seat in the family pew.

  The few relatives and members of the ton who turned up were welcomed but kept in their place by adroit manoeuvring. The majority of visitors were local citizens from the villages around. No alerts marred the proceedings, and eventually, Richard was informed that Edmund Tasker had apparently left for London before the event. Relieved for the moment that one danger was at a distance, he still did not alter his guard in case it was a deliberate feint to suppress suspicion and the baron had left men behind to carry out any villainy he had in mind. To have an alibi would presumably put him in the clear.

  Once the ceremony was over, everyone named attended the reading of the will which took place back at the house. It was simple in implementation, with long-standing servants getting due reward, gifts to distant cousins, and the church bountifully recognised. Richard was allotted a life pension. As was expected, Lucie was given the bulk of the estate and its wealth. There was one surprising directive that came at the end. Edgar Chesterman cleared his throat and rustled the papers in front of him before turning to the last page.

  “Regarding the matter of the dukedom and the ongoing succession, it was decided some time ago it would lie in abeyance until Lady Lucie produces a male heir who will henceforth be named duke and subsequently inherit the estate after her death.”

  Immediately, there was a stir in the audience, and a loud voice called out, interrupting the proceedings. “That is definitely not right! As a direct nephew of the deceased duke, I have always taken for granted that after Eleanor died, I would inherit the title. I have to say it was odd she was named successor to the estate in the first place when her husband died, without the dukedom passing to me. I would have thought my claim had precedence—well, it doesn’t matter now—but surely I will not be turned off a second time! There is no male heir other than myself to take the title.”