Anne Herries

by Rosalynand the Scoundrel

  ‘Freddie!’ Beatrice looked at him with frightened eyes. ‘Oh, please do not let her…’ She lapsed into silence as her aunt glared at her, clearly terrified that she would carry out her threat. As indeed she would, Rosalyn saw that at once.

  ‘Do not distress yourself, Miss Holland.’ Damian bowed stiffly in her direction. ‘I shall, of course, leave at once. Had I known, I should not have burdened you with my presence. There will be no need for further communication between us. Rosalyn, forgive me. I must leave.’

  ‘Damian!’ Rosalyn could not be certain whether she said the words aloud or merely in her heart. ‘Please do not go…’

  She watched as he walked from the room, head up, back straight and stiff, and she longed to run after him but knew she must not. If she gave the odious Mrs Jenkins any reason to destroy the happiness of Beatrice and Freddie, she would never forgive herself. She must let him go, though her own heart felt as if it had shattered into a hundred tiny pieces.

  ‘Aunt Patricia,’ Beatrice said, breaking the awkward silence after he had left. ‘Surely you cannot think Rosalyn knew who that man was? He has but recently come to the district—is that not so, Freddie?’

  ‘Yes. Of course Ros did not know what he had done,’ he said, giving his sister an odd, defensive look. ‘No one did. Good grief! He would not have been invited if any of us had guessed…’

  Maria opened her mouth and closed it, clearly thinking now was not the time to defend Mr Wrexham. Rosalyn was silent, her stomach churning with both nerves and anger. She had been forced into an impossible situation. For the moment she was unable to speak her mind as she would have liked—for Freddie’s sake. Yet not to do so was unbearable.

  ‘Mr Wrexham’s past has never been of any concern to me,’ she said at last. ‘Naturally I should not have invited him this evening had I known…of the unfortunate tragedy in your family, Mrs Jenkins.’

  The glitter in the older woman’s eyes told Rosalyn that she was neither convinced nor satisfied, but for the moment she seemed prepared to let it go.

  ‘I was sure you could not have known,’ she said with a cold smile. She fluttered her fan, glancing about her as if to apologise. ‘You must all forgive me for causing a scene—but I really could not bear to stay under the same roof as that wicked man. Not once I was certain it was indeed he.’

  There were embarrassed murmurs from the guests, several of whom had rather liked Mr Wrexham and, though shocked by what they had learned that evening, were not certain of their own feelings on the matter. Mrs Jenkins had found herself in an unfortunate position, of course, and there was a great deal of sympathy for her; but a duel was not necessarily murder—in the eyes of the gentlemen at least.

  Rosalyn turned away. How could she bear to stay in the same room as Mrs Jenkins? Her nerves were stretched to breaking point and she felt like screaming aloud in her rage, yet she knew she must remain calm—she must pretend to accept the woman’s apology, for Freddie’s sake. She curled her nails into the palms of her hands, willing herself not to speak, not to say something that would ruin everything. She must do nothing that would harm her brother or Beatrice.

  ‘Rosalyn dearest.’ Maria was at her side as the tension eased and people began to talk and laugh in an effort to cover their embarrassment. ‘That dreadful woman! Really, I cannot think what she was about. It is bad enough that she thinks she owns the house…’

  Rosalyn’s chin went up, anger and pride warring for supremacy. ‘Do not let her upset you, Maria. We must think of Freddie and Beatrice. It is only for a few weeks, after all.’

  ‘How brave you are,’ Maria replied, with a warm look of approval. ‘If I had been you, I should have said something extremely rude—and not simply because of what she did this evening. I tell you frankly that I cannot like her. Nothing would persuade me to remain in the same house as Mrs Jenkins—if it were not that I know you need my support, I should leave immediately.’

  Maria’s fighting words conjured up such a comical picture in her mind that Rosalyn suddenly found herself smiling.

  ‘You know my wretched tongue,’ she said. ‘It was with the greatest difficulty that I held back this evening. Under any other circumstances, I should have been delighted to show her the door.’

  ‘And I should have locked it after her,’ declared Maria stoutly. ‘The dear vicar was horrified. He likes Mr Wrexham—says he is a true gentleman in every sense of the word. Indeed, we both felt he behaved very creditably throughout it all.’

  ‘The vicar is very right,’ Rosalyn replied. ‘I have always respected his judgement. I believe him to be a good man. Kind, considerate and sensible. A man to be relied upon in times of anxiety.’

  ‘Yes. He is all that and more.’ Maria looked thoughtful. ‘Oh, our guests are leaving, dearest. You should say goodbye to them.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Rosalyn had recovered her composure by now and was able to accompany her friends to the door, where they took an affectionate leave of her. She could see concern in several of their faces, but none of them were willing to speak of the embarrassing incident openly. It was best brushed under the mat and forgotten.

  When they had all gone, Rosalyn went immediately to her own room without returning to the parlour to wish her family goodnight. She did not feel like talking to either her brother or Mrs Jenkins, so when someone knocked at her door just as she was about to undress, she sighed in resignation.

  ‘Yes. Come in.’

  It was Freddie. He looked at her awkwardly, his colour heightened. She sensed that he was feeling both ashamed and ill at ease—as indeed he ought!

  ‘Ros…’ he began, dropping his gaze as she met his eyes. ‘I’m not sure what to say.’

  ‘Then say nothing. I understand your position.’

  ‘You could not expect her to welcome the presence of a man who…killed her brother?’

  ‘No, of course not. It was unfortunate that neither of us were aware of it. However, she might have spoken to you privately. There was surely no need to make a scene in front of our guests—to force Mr Wrexham to leave like that?’

  ‘Good grief, no!’ Freddie said. ‘It was a wretched thing to do. Most embarrassing for everyone.’

  ‘She is an unpleasant woman,’ Rosalyn said quietly. She gave him a direct look. ‘I am sorry but I cannot like her, even for your sake. I hope she will not ruin your marriage, Freddie. You will have to be careful or she will make your lives miserable.’

  ‘You know how I feel. If it were not for Bea—I would have liked to throw her out.’ He relaxed a little as his sister was betrayed into a smile. ‘I am sorry. Truly, I am. I would not have had you placed in such an abominable position for the world. Do you…do you like Mr Wrexham, Ros?’

  ‘Yes. Very much, as it happens.’

  ‘I thought you might.’ Freddie played with his watch chain, clearly feeling both guilty and awkward. ‘You weren’t thinking of marrying him, were you?’

  ‘Would it matter to you if I was?’

  ‘Not personally. Seemed a decent enough chap to me—but you know how things stand at the moment.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ For a moment Rosalyn was angry. Did he not realise how selfish he was being? ‘If it will set your mind at rest, Freddie—I have no plans to marry Mr Wrexham, and I shall not invite him to this house again while Mrs Jenkins is here.’

  ‘Ros…I know I have no right to ask, but will you promise not to see him until after the wedding? She’s such an awful woman. She might refuse her permission if she heard gossip about…the two of you.’

  ‘Oh? What kind of gossip?’ She gave him a frank, direct stare. Freddie could not meet her eyes. Obviously, Mrs Jenkins had reported what she’d seen the night Rosalyn had met Damian in the garden! ‘There is nothing for anyone to gossip about, Freddie. No matter what anyone has told you. Believe me—there has been nothing more than a kiss.’

  ‘Good grief! I didn’t think there had,’ Freddie said at once. ‘I know you, Ros—but people a
lways like to believe the worst. And you have been living here practically alone—’ He quailed at the look in his sister’s eyes. ‘Forgive me. That was very bad of me. I should not have said it.’

  ‘No, you should not.’ Rosalyn glared at him. She was very angry now. ‘I am my own mistress. My behaviour is my own affair. I believe I am capable of deciding what is or is not proper for me to do. You should leave now, Freddie, before I lose my temper and say something we shall both regret. I promise not to shame you—at least until after you are married!’

  ‘Ros…’ He realised she was very angry and stopped. ‘Sorry…I’ve made a mess of this. I did not mean to upset you.’

  Rosalyn did not answer. She waited until the door closed behind him before throwing a cushion at it. The action did little to relieve her feelings. Losing one’s temper was never an answer in itself. But she was very angry. How could her own brother say such things to her? It was all the fault of that wretched woman!

  Oh, why did she have to come here? Why was the situation so awkward?

  Rosalyn was restless, so frustrated and incensed that she longed to scream. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why could she not simply follow her heart? Do as she wished? Yet her own good sense told her that she would have to be very careful. She must do nothing to cause a split between her brother and the girl he loved.

  Yet she had to see Damian! She had to see him alone, to explain to him that Mrs Jenkins’s revelations had made no difference to her feelings—or her intention of going away with him once the wedding was over.

  She must and would see Damian, but she must contrive to keep it a secret from everyone in this house. Particularly the odious Mrs Jenkins!

  Chapter Five

  ‘Why may I not visit Sarah Jane?’ Jared demanded. Mutiny flared in his dark eyes as he faced his tutor across the room. He looked every inch a prince, his manner haughty and proud. ‘Why can she not come here any more?’

  ‘Because I say so.’ Damian sighed inwardly as he saw the stubborn set of Jared’s jaw; he recognised the all-too-familiar signs of rebellion and knew he must explain more fully. ‘Your father would not approve of your becoming too attached to the girl—and there are other reasons. Neither of us will be visiting that house again, nor any other in the area, I dare say.’

  ‘Why? Are you ashamed of me? Ashamed of the colour of my skin?’

  Anger flashed in Damian’s eyes. ‘Where the devil did you get that idea? You know I have never cared for such things. You have always been as a younger brother to me, Jared. I was your mother’s friend as well as the prince’s. I care only for your safety and well being. You must know that? Surely you cannot believe me capable of such prejudice?’

  Jared looked uncertain. ‘Nessa said you would turn against me now you are amongst your own people—that you would find me a nuisance.’

  ‘If Nessa told you that she is either lying deliberately or mistakes the matter,’ Damian said, his mouth thinning in annoyance. ‘Believe me, Jared. I shall always care for you. The only thing I find a nuisance is that I am forced to curtail your freedom all too often. I do not enjoy making you stay within the grounds—nor do I wish to stop you making friends, believe me.’

  ‘My father has cast me out.’

  ‘Only for your own safety.’

  ‘He will never allow me to return to India. I am the cause of too much trouble amongst the people. I do not belong there—or here.’

  There was both pain and anger in the youth’s face, reminding Damian of the feelings he had experienced years before, when he too had been forced to seek a new life in exile.

  ‘You belong with me, Jared.’ Damian pulled a wry face. ‘I too am a social outcast—so we are two of a kind. Where I go, you go; I’m afraid you’re stuck with me until your majority. Then you will be free to tell me to go to hell if you so choose.’

  His words brought a smile to Jared’s face. ‘Do you mean it? Shall I always belong with you, sahib?’

  ‘Have I not said it? You have reason to know I do not say things lightly, have you not?’ Damian grinned as Jared looked rueful. ‘Come, there is no need for anger between us. You are no longer a child, Jared.’

  ‘Some treat me as if I am,’ Jared replied, a flash of hauteur in his eyes.

  ‘Then I shall not be one of them, unless you force me to it. Act like a man, Jared, and I shall respect you as one.’ Damian moved towards him, laying a hand on his shoulder. ‘My name is Damian. Why do you not begin to use it? We are not in India now. It may be that neither of us will ever return. Perhaps it would be best if you left the old ways behind now, Jared. Your mother was English—a very intelligent, lovely lady. You have no reason to be ashamed of carrying her blood, though I know some of your father’s people would have you think so. In certain cosmopolitan societies people of mixed race adopt European ways and are accepted, even admired for their differences—and their talents. You are intelligent and knowledgeable. You could find a place for yourself in such a society, Jared. You are very like your mother, more like her than your father, perhaps. If it had been otherwise, you might have been more accepted at home.’

  ‘My mother loved me.’ Jared’s eyes were shiny with the tears he was too proud to let fall. ‘You do believe she loved me?’

  ‘Always.’ Damian offered his hand and after a moment the youth took it. ‘If I thought it best that we should go away—disappear, perhaps even change our names—would you trust me?’

  Jared was silent for a few seconds, considering, then he smiled. ‘Yes, Damian,’ he said. ‘I shall trust you—but I would like to see Sarah Jane once more. She is my friend, perhaps the only true friend I have apart from you. I want to give her a present…so that she will not forget me.’

  ‘I’ll do what I can,’ Damian promised. ‘Be patient, Jared. It will not be easy. I cannot risk going to the house at the present, for Miss Eastleigh’s sake. Nor can I let you go. But I shall find a way. I promise.’

  ‘Why can I not see Jared?’ Sarah Jane stamped her foot, her face pink with temper. ‘He is my friend. I hate you. You are mean to stop me seeing him. I shall see him, I shall!’

  Rosalyn sighed. She could not approve of Sarah Jane’s tantrum, but she understood completely how the girl felt. It was unfair. No one was more aware of that than she.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Please do not be cross with me, Sarah Jane. Believe me, I really do not want to stop you seeing Jared. I have no choice for the moment. It is just as difficult for me. I would like to see Mr Wrexham but I may not—not just yet.’

  ‘It’s because of that horrid woman, isn’t it?’ Sarah Jane said, her face sulky. ‘I heard her saying things to Beatrice this morning—about you and Mr Wrexham. Beatrice tried to defend you from her insinuations and she made her cry.’

  ‘Mrs Jenkins does not like Mr Wrexham because of something that happened a long time ago.’ Rosalyn explained without going into precise details. ‘She has threatened to stop Freddie marrying Beatrice if Mr Wrexham comes here again…and that would make both her and Freddie very unhappy. You must see that we have to consider their feelings as well as our own? At least for the time being.’

  ‘I like Beatrice. I do not want her to be unhappy—but Jared could come,’ Sarah said, her face mutinous. ‘Or I could go there. That horrid woman need not know where I’ve gone.’

  ‘That would be deceitful,’ Rosalyn said, crossing her fingers behind her back. It was wrong of her to deny Sarah Jane the very thing she was planning for herself. ‘Besides, your mother will be wanting you home soon. Her letter says your brother is on the mend.’

  ‘I must see Jared before I go home,’ Sarah Jane pleaded, her large eyes filling with tears. ‘I want to give him something…something to keep so that he will always remember me.’

  Rosalyn nodded. Sarah Jane had made a friend. She did not want to forget him, nor was it right that she should be forced to give him up when her own grandmother had approved the friendship.

  ‘I might be able
to arrange a meeting,’ she said. ‘Be patient, Sarah. I’ll try my best. I promise. Now go downstairs and find Maria, there’s a good girl.’

  Sarah Jane went reluctantly, clearly still feeling the injustice of what had been imposed on her. Rosalyn crossed over to the window and looked out at the view. It was drizzling with rain. She could hardly pretend she was going for a walk in this weather. And if she ordered the carriage, everyone would want to know where she was going. Mrs Jenkins would probably ask to go with her in order to spoil any plans she might have for meeting Damian.

  It was no use. She would have to wait until it was fine—until she could be sure that Mrs Jenkins was safely out of the way.

  The opportunity to escape did not present itself for three days. Three long, wet and gloomy days in which Sarah Jane grew ever more obstinate and Rosalyn found it almost impossible to sleep at night. During this time her resolution hardened. Why should Mrs Jenkins dictate who she and Sarah might know? She was determined to find a way for them both to see their friends, but without causing harm to Beatrice and Freddie. When at last the chance came, however, the weather could not have been kinder. It was a warm, dry day with scarcely a cloud in the sky.

  A luncheon party had been arranged at the vicarage. Mrs Jenkins had asked to look at the church before deciding finally whether the wedding should be held there or in London.

  ‘There will be nearly two hundred guests,’ she announced grandly. ‘I am not sure a village church will be large enough. Our own in Huntingdon is certainly not suitable.’

  Beatrice had looked anxious, having previously declared that she would prefer a smaller wedding if it could be held here. She was obviously a country girl at heart, and did not care for all the fuss and consequence of a large society wedding.

  So the visit to the church had been arranged for the Friday morning, followed by a cold collation to be prepared by the vicar’s housekeeper. When Rosalyn announced that Sarah Jane had been sick and she must stay behind to care for her, there were cries of disappointment from Beatrice and a suspicious glare from her aunt.