‘Odd,’ she mused.
‘What is odd?’ Lady Alice said.
Clarice’s head shot round and she saw her grandmother standing in the doorway of the small chapel.
The dowager walked slowly toward her.
‘How long have you been here?’ Clarice asked.
‘Long enough. I come here early every morning during summer. I like to spend time praying in the chapel before talking to your grandfather.’
She nodded in the direction of a huge tombstone a yard or so away from Elizabeth’s grave. The space between the two graves was reserved for Lady Alice and for her son. They would sleep next to their respective spouses in death.
Clarice got to her feet. ‘What did you hear?’ she asked.
Lady Alice came and took hold of her granddaughter’s hand.
‘Enough to have a greater understanding of what has troubled you since your mother’s death. I know it was wrong of me to listen to your private conversation, but I am not sorry that I did.’
Clarice looked into her grandmother’s eyes. Lady Alice had been instrumental in helping her find the courage to finally face her grief and guilt. She owed her the truth.
‘Just before Mama died, I received a letter from a firm of solicitors; they represented the estate of —’
‘No!’ Lady Alice roared. ‘Do not say his name!
Her body shook as tears welled in her eyes. ‘He caused so much heartache within this family; I never want to hear his name again. Especially not in this most sacred of places,’ she said sadly.
Clarice stood dumbfounded. Lady Alice knew the truth of her real sire.
‘Can you at least tell me how this came about? I thought my parents were devoted to one another. How could my mother betray Papa in such a way?’
Her grandmother looked down at the stone path.
‘A year or so before you were born, your mother had a miscarriage. In his grief, your father blamed her for the loss of his heir. They separated for a time, during which your mother found comfort with someone else. She fell pregnant with you.’
‘And my father was forced to take her back to avoid a shocking scandal?’ Clarice asked, angry with her mother for such a callous deception.
Lady Alice’s head shot up and she gripped Clarice’s hand tightly.
‘No, no. Your father begged her to come back to him. He promised that no matter what happened, he would claim you as his own. He never stopped loving your mother; it just took him some time to realise what a fool he had been. As far as your parents and the rest of your family are concerned, you are his daughter.’
‘No wonder Mama was in such a state when I showed her the letter.’
‘Do you wish to tell me about your mother’s death?’ Lady Alice asked.
It was time to share the awful truth of that day with someone she trusted.
‘We had a frightful row. She was terrified someone would find out. I ran from the room. Mama followed me and she tripped on the stairs. I tried to catch her, but I was too late. It was my fault she died.’
Lady Alice’s shook her head.
‘Oh, Clarice, no, it was an accident. Please don’t tell me this has been what has kept you from confiding in your father and me all this time? You cannot blame yourself for your mother’s death.’
‘The letter about me; you know what that means, don’t you?’ Clarice replied.
Her grandmother pulled her into her arms and whispered in her ear. ‘It means that you are a daughter of the House of Langham and no bloody missive from a solicitor can change that, especially if you believe it in your heart. It means that you are now and always will be my granddaughter. I shall take violent issue with anyone who tries to say otherwise.’
‘Yes, Grandmother,’ a relieved Clarice replied. She reached up and wiped away a tear from Lady Alice’s cheek.
‘All this happened such a long time ago, I had hoped never to hear of it again. Promise me that you will continue to keep this a secret. If ever anyone discovered the truth, you, your father and this family would be crushed. Society does not treat women well when it comes to this kind of situation. You would be ostracised.’
‘I promise,’ Clarice vowed.
‘Good girl; now can we please go and have some breakfast? These early-morning starts make me rather hungry.’
They walked arm in arm from the dell.
After breakfast Clarice retrieved her paint box from a storage cupboard and sorted through her paintbrushes. She found a stack of clean linen canvases at the back of the cupboard and chose several small ones to use.
Painting was one accomplishment she knew she excelled in. Clarice’s landscapes were good enough for her father to have several of them framed and displayed in both their Norfolk and London homes.
Her morning had been filled with revelation, and it was good to spend time alone with familiar objects and tasks. It was well past midday before she made her way back downstairs and spoke to Lady Alice.
Luncheon was spent discussing every topic apart from the events in the dell. Supper and the rest of the evening ran to the same pattern.
By the time she retired to her bed, Clarice understood that as far as Lady Alice was concerned, the matter was closed.
The following morning, she waited until after her grandmother had returned from the dell before venturing to visit her mother once more. She took with her a fresh bouquet of her mother’s favourite apricot roses, gathered from the gardens. She tied them with one of her white satin ribbons and placed them in front of Elizabeth’s headstone.
Taking a seat on the grass, she spent the next hour or so talking to her mother, telling her all the things that had happened in her life since they’d parted.
On the third morning, as soon as she reached the graveyard, she heard the now-familiar bird whistle. Looking up into the tree she saw the bird.
‘Hello again,’ she said.
The bird chirped once more and then flew from the tree, landing on top of her mother’s headstone. In its beak it held a tiny twig.
Clarice paused and for a moment, bird and young woman stared at one another.
‘Mama, I know you always said that portents and visions were silly superstitious nonsense, but perhaps that was only in this life. If you are listening to me, and I am choosing to believe you are, then I want you know how sorry I am. That I understand you were only trying to protect me.’
The bird chirped.
‘I ask for your forgiveness and your blessing.’
A gentle breeze moved in the dell and the treetops stirred. The bird flew away. She watched as it landed high in a distant tree, where it began to sing once more.
She walked the short distance to her mother’s gravestone. There on the top lay the twig the bird had carried in its beak. She swung round and tried to catch a final glimpse of the bird, but it was gone.
She tentatively picked up the twig and examined it. Apart from a small notch partway along its length, it was a plain ash-tree twig. To her it was priceless.
While ancient Greek gods had conspired to send their messages to earth in the form of lightning and great storms, Clarice felt she had been sent a simpler message of love and forgiveness. There, alone in a quiet English dell, she finally made peace with her mother and herself.
Taking the twig, she slipped it into her coat pocket. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
She turned and walked from the dell, certain in the knowledge that she was once again her mother’s daughter.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lucy was having a thoroughly boring evening.
Millie and Alex had cried off from most social events in order to spend time alone together. David, having spent the better part of a week at his estate, had dropped out of circulation upon his return to London. To make matters worse, Lucy’s fledging career as a social matchmaker was off to a terrible start, with the prospective bride being inconveniently banished to the country. The final, and possibly worst indignity was that she was now having to attend parties and b
alls alone with her parents.
Millie’s brother Charles, her last line of defence against the simpering misses, had come down with a heavy cold and taken to his bed.
After dancing with several eligible gentlemen to please her mother, Lucy decided the ladies’ retiring room was as good a place as any to while away the hours before the Duke and Duchess of Strathmore decided to go home.
‘Why are there no interesting men this season?’ she muttered as she turned the handle of the ladies’ room door.
She was surprised to discover that apart from two ladies’ maids, the room was empty. Waving away the maid who offered to attend to her perfectly set hair, she dropped down onto a well-padded couch and kicked off her dancing slippers. With her head against the cushions, she closed her eyes.
The door to the ladies’ room opened and closed.
The maids whispered something between themselves and she heard them leave the room. A body plopped down heavily on the couch next to her. She half-opened one eye.
Lady Susan Kirk. Looking very distressed.
Lucy sat up and watched her warily. Susan had been the cause of more trouble among the younger set than Lucy cared to remember. She made a move to rise from the couch, but stopped when Susan laid a shaking hand on her arm.
‘I know you do not hold a very high opinion of me, and for my own part, I have always found you to be too high in the step and a little odd, but I need to speak with you,’ Susan said.
Lucy scowled.
‘It’s about Clarice.’
‘Yes?’ she replied, feeling a growing sense of unease.
‘I know you don’t agree with what I did at the Tates’ rout, telling Lord Langham that your brother was dancing with Clarice. But I did it for her own good. Or so I thought.’
Susan pulled an already sodden handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed at her tears. Lucy sighed. She pulled a clean handkerchief out of her own reticule and handed it to Susan.
‘Thank you,’ Susan replied.
‘What do you mean, or so you thought?’ Lucy asked.
Susan put her hand over her eyes and began to sob loudly. Her shoulders shook, such was her distress. Lucy reluctantly put a hand to Susan’s back and gave her a comforting pat.
It was several minutes before Susan finally looked in control of her emotions and was able to continue. When the maids reappeared, Lucy told them to go and find some supper.
Susan sniffed back her tears and sucked in a deep breath.
‘Firstly, I would ask that you keep the matter of my part in this a secret. My marriage prospects have already suffered enough this season; if word of my involvement with Mr Fox became public I would likely be ruined.’
Mr Fox. Oh no.
‘You didn’t?’ Lucy replied.
Susan shot her a look of utter outrage. ‘No, I am not that foolish! A kiss was all that we shared. That, and what I thought was an understanding.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Lucy replied.
Susan shook her head. ‘Neither did I, until Clarice’s father sent her away. She and I had agreed she would step aside and let me pursue Mr Fox.’
Lucy frowned. ‘And you agreed to let my brother woo Clarice, except you lied?’
‘Actually, no. Clarice lied to me. She told me she had some kind of understanding with Charles Ashton. I knew it was a lie, of course, but decided it suited my cause to pretend to believe her. It didn’t really matter since I thought I was so close to success.’
‘Really?’
A look of disdain appeared on Susan’s face. ‘You see, I thought Mr Fox was going to offer to marry me. We have spent some time together over these past weeks and . . .’
‘And what?’
‘I thought we shared the belief that your brother is not suitable for Clarice. Mr Fox convinced me to aid him in scuttling their budding romance. I thought he was trying to curry favour with Lord Langham, but now I know he was just using me.’
Lucy decided to ignore the pointed insult to her brother. Susan Kirk evidently possessed information of great importance. Lucy prayed that no-one else would need to use the ladies’ retiring room at that exact moment. She took hold of one of Susan’s hands and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
Susan looked away and sighed deeply, then looked back to Lucy.
‘Mr Fox has left London. I believe he is headed for Norfolk. From the little that I was able to garner before he left, I understand he intends to seek out Clarice at Langham Hall and persuade her to marry him.’
Lucy shot to her feet. ‘Why? Why would he do such a thing?’ she cried.
Still clutching Lucy’s handkerchief, Susan rose from the couch. In the brittleness of her posture, Lucy saw a young woman struggling to come to terms with the repercussions of her self-serving nature. Her spiteful ways, it would appear, had finally caught up with her. Even after all the horrid things Susan had done, Lucy pitied her.
‘Because Mr Fox has spent all the money that Lord Langham gave him and then some. By convincing Clarice to marry him, Mr Fox will gain access to her dowry.’
Lucy clasped her hands together and held them prayer-like to her lips. ‘I cannot see Clarice readily agreeing to marry Mr Fox,’ she said.
She and Susan exchanged a pained look of understanding. If Thaxter Fox compromised Clarice, there would be nothing anyone could do to save her. She would be compelled to marry him.
‘Which is why I needed to find you. Much as it goes against everything I think is right, the only hope to save Clarice from Mr Fox is your brother. Now that I know the sort of man Mr Fox really is, I have reluctantly come to the conclusion that David may well be the lesser of two evils. Clarice does not deserve to be forced to marry a blackguard such as Mr Fox; and I know she loves your brother, for all his shortcomings.
‘I have searched all the public and some private rooms at this party tonight, but have not been able to locate your brother. While I am relieved to have found you, Lucy, it is imperative that you find David.’
For the first time in her life Lucy found herself in the unusual situation of being in complete agreement with Susan Kirk. She had to find David, and quickly.
‘He isn’t here tonight, but I know where I can find him,’ Lucy replied. She offered Susan her hand. ‘Thank you. I know this must have been difficult for you, but I am glad that you sought me out. Let us shake hands and agree to keep this conversation a secret.’
Susan looked down at Lucy’s hand and gave a small nod. They shook hands.
‘I must go and see if I can do anything to save our mutual friend,’ Lucy said.
She picked up her slippers and hurriedly put them back on. Once back out in the main ballroom, she searched frantically for her father. Of all people, the Duke of Strathmore would know what to do. Across the crowded room, she set eyes upon her parents.
Under her breath she swore. Both the Duke and Duchess of Strathmore were with the Prince Regent. She clenched her fists and let out a frustrated ‘Oh!’
She dared not risk trying to speak to her father. If she came within a few feet of the prince, she would be caught up in the social niceties of curtsying and paying her respects to him. And since her parents were close friends of the Prince of Wales, she knew they would remain in his company for quite some time.
The situation seemed hopeless. If only Alex and Millie hadn’t decided they needed to drop out of social circulation.
There was only one thing left to do.
Lady Lucy Radley was going to break the cardinal rule for all unmarried ton misses. She was going to head out into the London night without an approved chaperone.
True to form, once she had decided upon this reckless course of action, her mind was set.
All in the name of Cupid’s work.
She made her way through the ballroom, stopping once or twice for a brief chat to various friends, establishing her alibi. If her parents came in search of her while she was gone, there were several guests who could verify that they had only recently spoken wi
th her.
A young couple Lucy knew well were leaving as she reached the front door. Lucy hurried and caught up with them.
Outside, she instructed the head footman to summon the driver of her parents’ carriage. When her parents inevitably discovered what she had done, she could at least argue she had made every effort to mitigate the risk. She had travelled in her family’s carriage, with several trusted servants on board.
She would deal with her father’s wrath in good time; Clarice was in danger and David’s heart was in deadly peril.
David yawned and pushed the pile of papers away from him.
He rubbed his tired eyes and checked the time. Squinting at his pocket watch, he saw it was only eleven o’clock. On any other evening he would barely be getting into the swing of things.
‘It’s all that fresh country air,’ he muttered to himself.
The large pile of paperwork he had brought back from Sharnbrook had been joined by several more bills, which had arrived that morning.
He picked up the bill for the manor house’s new curtains from the top of the pile and tried not to wince. Who would have known window fabric could cost that much?
With early starts the current order of the day, he contemplated turning in for the night. He yawned again.
‘You are becoming an old man, Mr Radley,’ he chided himself.
He stretched his arms above his head, but lowered them when he felt the twinge of his slowly healing stab wound.
‘And tomorrow will be another battle,’ he said, groaning.
Back in London, and now having attended to business matters, he planned to confront Lord Langham in the morning and give him an ultimatum before taking matters into his own hands.
A frown creased his brow when he saw the door to his study opening. The handful of staff who served him knew to knock before they entered a room with a closed door.
Lucy’s head appeared around the side of the door, giving him a start.
‘I am so glad to see you are still up,’ she said.
David rose quickly from his chair and hurried to her. He checked the doorway behind her and frowned a second time when he saw it was empty. Words of reproach were on the tip of his tongue. She held up a hand.
An Unsuitable Match Page 19
