Lord Augustus (Sons of the Marquess Book 3)

by Mary Kingswood

  “Society will receive them,” Gus said with certainty. “He is a gentleman, his wife is a lady and they are rich. But can we be mistaken in Mrs Ballard? If she left two days ago—”

  “Did you not see the triumphant gleam in his eye when he spoke of it?” Merton said. “And he was neither surprised nor shocked to hear of it. No, he knows all about the business. And no one supposed that Mrs Ballard herself delivered the present to the castle. It must have been arranged before she left, and perhaps Mr Richard Ballard himself arranged the delivery. The duke will find it all out, and you may be sure that Mrs Ballard was behind it.”

  “But is Ned safe now?”

  It was a question none of them could answer.

  Merton dismounted to open the gates, since no gatekeeper had materialised. As he was fumbling with the latch, a great commotion could be heard at the far side of the square, momentarily hidden from them by the plinth and voluminous skirts of Mrs Ballard’s statue. From behind it appeared a cavalcade of many horses bearing banners and trumpeters and a whole host of attendants surrounding a large man on a horse massive enough to have carried a medieval knight in full armour.

  “Good God! The duke!” Edgerton said. “What a splendid old fellow he is.”

  One of the trumpeters blew a violent blast, a sound to which Jupiter took extreme exception, and Gus was fully occupied in controlling his mount for some minutes, aware of some announcement being made but unable to listen.

  “What did he say? What is happening?” he hissed to Edgerton, as soon as Jupiter had calmed down.

  Edgerton laughed. “Inspection of all warehouses, weaving halls and manufactories, in his role as local magistrate. Also investigation of the Ballards’ claim to ownership. Oh, and look, he has invited all his friends to the party.”

  From the other end of the square, neat lines of soldiers marched in perfect synchrony and began to parade around the perimeter, before forming up in orderly fashion. The local population, drawn onto the streets by the commotion, began to cheer and wave handkerchiefs.

  “Too much of a rabble for me,” Gus muttered, struggling to control Jupiter as the crowds became rowdier. “I shall expect a full report later, Edgerton.”

  And with that, he released Jupiter and, scattering riders and townsfolk in all directions, let the horse race for home.

  Gus settled Jupiter in the stables and went to check on Ned, who was sleeping peacefully. Fortunately, Amaryllis was not sleeping and was very happy to see him, and ply him with tea and cake, and hear all about the afternoon’s adventures. Somehow, by the time he got back to his own rooms, the others were back.

  “You should have stayed, Marford,” Edgerton said. “Young Ballard came marching out of his fine house to see off the miserable interloper who was making the town square look untidy, and ran up against a peer of the realm in all his splendour. I do like the old boy, you know, but I am very glad he is on our side. He is magnificent at one and sixty, so I cannot even conceive how glorious a sight he must have been in his prime. He dispatched Ballard in two minutes, and by the end the poor boy was very grateful to be allowed to stay on until after his wife’s lying in. In a few weeks, the place will be free of Ballards and that hideous statue will be pulled down. There will be champagne for you in the keep tonight, I wager.”

  “Shall I order some for you?” Gus said, amused. “You may celebrate too, if you wish.”

  “We are going to celebrate by relieving Mr Parker of his vicar’s stipend,” Edgerton said cheerfully.

  For the first time Gus noticed that the cards and Madeira were out, and the clergyman was shuffling expertly, and dealing to Edgerton, Merton and Willerton-Forbes.

  “Are you a keen card player, Mr Parker?” Gus said.

  “I am accounted a tolerable player, my lord, and I must do something to pass the time, since I cannot return home until his grace’s lawyers arrive from London. Shall I be dreadfully out of my depth, do you suppose?”

  “You will need to watch Merton and Edgerton very carefully,” Gus said. “Merton because he is almost as good a player as my brother Humphrey, and Edgerton because he will bamboozle you into a mistake. As for Willerton-Forbes, he is a lawyer, so all in all, I should say you are sunk, Mr Parker.”

  “Oh dear, oh dear. Well, I shall just have to do the best I can,” Parker said cheerfully.

  “There are letters for you,” Merton said. “On the mantel. One is from Lady Carrbridge.”

  “So it is, but this one I do not recognise.” He broke the seal, and unfolded the sheet. “Good God! It is from Charles Ballard. Listen to this. ‘My lord, Forgive my presumption in writing to one who is quite unknown to me, nor likely to be, as being quite above my humble station in life. However, if I may beg your indulgence to read these few words, I hope I may ease your mind about a recent dreadful event occurring to one close to you. My wife has confessed to me that she has done a dreadful thing, in attempting to remove a child from the arms of its mother. I need not tell you how horrified I was that such a thing should happen, and my own wife be the cause. She, of all people, should understand the distress of a mother upon the loss of a child. She has been, perhaps, too much indulged and allowed to dwell upon a tragedy in our own family, the details of which you already know, I understand. My wife’s despair has long been a concern to me, and can no longer be ignored, nor may she be left unattended to cause what misery and evil she will. I have therefore taken steps to have her admitted to an asylum where her particular needs may be addressed without risk to any innocent person. To avoid the shame necessarily attendant upon such a measure, I have chosen to give her a false name for this purpose. I trust that in revealing these details, I may alleviate your mind from any further concerns on her account. She will cause no further injury to anyone close to you. I have the honour to be your lordship’s most obedient servant, Charles Ballard.’ Well, Merton, what do you make of that?”

  “Do you wish my honest opinion? Then it seems to me that he wishes the constables to stop looking for his wife in order to bring her to justice. Admitted to an asylum? Under a false name? How convenient!”

  “Oh, that does make sense.” Gus was immediately deflated. “But the more important point is this — can we assume that Ned is no longer in danger from this woman? ‘She will cause no further injury to anyone close to you.’ That sounds almost like a reference to the poison.”

  “Possibly. One fact I think is now established beyond doubt — that all the Ballards will shortly be removed from the neighbourhood. That must be a great relief to all who care for the boy’s welfare. It seems to me that the poison was a last vicious attempt at revenge.”

  “That is my feeling, too,” Gus said. He turned to Connie’s letter, which was bound to be full of trivial news and therefore a perfect distraction.

  ‘My dear Gus, Once more we are all in uproar here, and I can scarce believe the words I must write, but nevertheless it is true — Mr Sharp has been here! He arrived quite unannounced, as he always does, but his poor wife had become so terrified of him with all these revelations about mistresses and falseness and the misappropriation of money that she ran screaming into the stable court that he was come home and may the Lord help her. The Lord was not on hand, but Lady Humphrey was, having just ridden in, and she went straight into Mr Sharp’s cottage and laid about him with her riding crop, whereupon the villain ran out and mounted a horse already saddled and waiting and rode off. And Lady H then mounted up and rode after him! And half the grooms went after, and then Humphrey and Francis in great anger, all chasing after Mr S. But luckily for him, Lady H’s horse was already tired or else she would surely have caught up with him and killed him and then where would we all be and Humphrey would have been very upset if his wife had been hanged, and all for murdering a wicked man like Mr S. So he got clean away. But inside his cottage was found a hidden safe under the floorboards, already opened and containing no end of money which no doubt he had hoped to get away to fund his continued wickedness. Francis had never se
en so much, and all his, of course. Pray tell Mr Merton that it has all been locked away in the safe in the library, awaiting his return to count it, for Francis becomes dizzy at anything more than a hundred pounds. And as if that were not enough upset for one day, word came from Gil’s colonel that he has been injured, although in a duel not a battle for he has not yet left Dover and there are not many Frenchmen in Dover. And Francis is beside himself and swears that he never sent Gil into the army to be killed although what he expected with Gil I do not know, for everyone else thought it very likely that he would be killed at once, for he is so wild it is inevitable but if he could kill a few Frenchmen first, then he would not have died in vain. Although I am very glad that he has not been killed, naturally. But we do not quite know what is to happen to him, and Humphrey talked very gloomily of cashiering which sounds very dreadful and I hope it will not come to that. But you must not worry about us for we are all well and little William has not one but two new teeth, and Lady H is increasing and Humphrey is so proud it is very sweet. Please write soon, Gus, for I have not heard anything for days and I want to know everything about your widow. Your affectionate sister-in-law, Connie.’

  Gus retailed the bulk of this to Merton.

  “Ah! Then I must hasten my departure,” Merton said. “Indeed, there is little purpose to staying longer.”

  “You do not think Sharp — or Harcourt — will come here now? He will not take your bait?”

  “I do not believe so, for he must have received my letter long since. He knows me too well to be convinced by any hint of corruption, I suspect, and is too astute to allow himself to be taken in. No, I imagine if we were to return to the White Cottage now, we should find it all closed up. Sharp or Harcourt is long since away in that fancy carriage of his.”

  “Oh…” Something fell into place in Gus’s mind. “The carriage… the one from the White Cottage. I have seen it recently.”

  “Really? Where?”

  “Here, at the castle. It was the one that brought Mrs Ballard here when she tried to take Ned away. But… how is that possible?”

  Merton groaned, and threw down his cards. “I have been a fool. Why did I not think of that possibility?”

  “What possibility?”

  “That Sharp — and Harcourt — are also Ballard. Charles Ballard is Ambrose Sharp. He must have left here and gone straight to Drummoor. And I do not imagine his way took him past an asylum.”

  Into the shocked silence, Mr Parker coughed politely. “My trick again, I think, gentlemen?”

  26: Proposals

  There were many delightful aspects to having Amaryllis living within the castle, Gus decided, but not the least of them was the inestimable joy of dining with her every night. He now raced impatiently through the dreary duty of bathing and dressing in order to rush across the bridge to the duke’s drawing room. She was always there before him, so elegant in her simple gowns and her hair adorned with no more than a ribbon or two and a few silk flowers.

  “How lovely you look,” he murmured, bending over her hand, and smiling at her blushing confusion. She had never learnt the sophisticated art of accepting a compliment as if it were her right, and he loved her all the more for it. “How is Ned?” It was two days since he had fully recovered from the poison, and Gus had seen him not three hours ago, but nevertheless the question had become a habit.

  “He is well. The duke is very out of sorts, however.”

  Gus could hear the grumbling from across the room. He still had a small coterie of ladies about him, for although most of the candidates for his hand had long since left, a few persistent souls lingered, amongst them Emma’s sister Maria.

  “Marford!” the duke called out. “Stop making love to my daughter-in-law and get rid of these pestilent women for me. I cannot imagine why they are here, for I am sure I do not want them. Make them go away, Marford, for they give me no peace.”

  Maria tittered. “Such a wit you are, Duke, to be sure. As if we do not desire your comfort above all things. Do let me straighten your cushions for you.”

  “Get away from me, woman!” He flapped at her ineffectually, as she pulled out one cushion after another from behind his back. “Leave me alone! If I want your— Emma! At last!”

  The door burst open, and Emma marched in, still wearing her travelling clothes as if she had just that moment stepped from the carriage. She strode across to the duke’s chair, scattering his little entourage, and dropped to her knees in front of him, so that her eyes were level with his.

  “I am here.”

  “Emma, why did you go away? I did not tell you to go. You must never go away again, do you hear?”

  “Well, I shall not, then, if you dislike the idea so, but Harry, you must not tease me any more with this nonsense about competitions and enticements. It was unkind in you.”

  “It was just my foolishness, my dear,” he said. “Bedford? Bedford! Get this rug away from me, and help me up.”

  Emma jumped up. “No, Harry, your feet—”

  “Got to do this properly,” he said, wobbling on Bedford’s arm. Then, using the chair arm for support, he slowly lowered himself to one knee. “Emma Winifred Charlotte Frensham, would you make an old man very happy and do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?”

  “Oh, Harry, how romantic!” Emma cried, clapping her hands together. “And you even looked up all my names in Debrett’s. Yes please. I should like to be your wife of all things. Oh, but do get up, for I see how much your gout pains you. Here, let me help you. There now.” She sat him back down in his chair, and again knelt at his feet. “That was quite the loveliest proposal I have ever had, Harry, although it must be said that there have not been a great many others. Still, it was delightfully done. But we must be married very soon, you know, for I want to get busy with babies and so forth as quick as may be, and I am sure you do too.”

  The duke chuckled. “I find I do not care very much if there are any babies or not, but we shall have fun finding out, eh, my dear?”

  And Emma, quite unembarrassed, laid her head on his lap and sighed contentedly.

  Beside Gus, Amaryllis sighed too. “That was charmingly done.”

  “Although as offers go, it was deficient, I felt,” Gus said gravely. “He said nothing about his income or position in society or how well suited they were, nor did he mention love.”

  Amaryllis laughed at the idea that a duke needed to say any of those things. “As for love, he said she would make him happy, and who could doubt it? Everyone must be thrilled for them.”

  “Except her sister,” Gus whispered. “She has a face that would freeze the fires of Hell just now. Poor Maria! To be outranked by Emma at last. How will she bear it?”

  ~~~~~

  The lawyers from London arrived in great state, accompanied by several learned gentlemen from the House of Lords, to examine the documents relating to Amaryllis’s marriage.

  “You will need to be interviewed by them, little lady,” the duke told her, as they sat at dinner one day.

  “Oh, must I? For it is all set down in the papers, is it not?”

  “They will not ask anything terribly difficult, I am sure,” Emma said. “I daresay they just want to know your father’s name and so forth, so that everything may be set down correctly in the Rolls.”

  “I shall be there, too,” the duke said, then gazed at her from beneath bushy eyebrows. “Hmm, you are a timid little puss, are you not? Should you like it if Marford were to be there too?”

  “I should like that very much,” she said, with a little warm feeling inside. Everything was so much easier if Gus were with her.

  “Lady Edward is not so timid when her child is threatened,” Gus said. “She becomes a tiger then.”

  Amaryllis blushed, but she glowed a little too. Such a fine compliment! And he never made it sound outrageous, as some men did when they complimented one. He said such things as if they were mere statements of fact.

  “True, she did well against that
Ballard woman, holding out until the cavalry arrived. Well done, indeed, little lady. And now I have charge of the boy’s safety, and I shall not rest until every last one of that rats’ nest of Ballards is gone from here. Ned will have food tasters and bodyguards and whatever is necessary to keep him from harm.”

  “And he also needs fresh air and to run about and be a child,” Amaryllis said firmly. “I will not allow you to keep him imprisoned, even for his own safety.”

  The duke glowered at her for a moment. “Hmpf. He is my heir, you know, my only bulwark against the attorney from Cheshire.”

  “Then you had better get busy with Lady Emma and produce some more bulwarks,” she said sweetly.

  And the duke gave a bark of laughter, and patted her arm and called her a cheeky little monkey.

  Emma was quite right about the lawyers. They questioned Amaryllis in the gentlest manner possible about her family, trying, it seemed, to connect her to some noble line, although without success. But they were quite satisfied in the legality of the marriage, and congratulated her heartily, and the duke too, for his acquisition of an heir.

  The retrieval of Amaryllis’s marriage lines from the attorney in High Morton had also produced another will, written with Lord Edward’s marriage in mind. It was very similar to the previous will, except that there was a settlement for Amaryllis, and the residue of the estate was left explicitly to any issue of the marriage, or, if there was none, to Amaryllis herself.

  “Like a sensible man he made provision for the change in circumstances,” the lawyer said, beaming. “It all goes to the young Marquess of Darrowstone, to be held in trust until he attains the age of one and twenty, with you as the sole trustee, Lady Edward. And the first decision you will have to make in that role is to decide the future of the stud. Have you thought at all about whether you wish to sell the horses? For Tattersall’s has been waiting for some time for a decision.”

  “And they may wait even longer,” Gus said quietly. “Lady Edward may take as much time as she needs to make such a decision.”