“What do you want to do?” he asked.
“Take me home.”
He helped her to her feet but before they took a step, she pulled out her handkerchief and dried her eyes, then turned to Christopher.
“The agreement I reached on your behalf probably still stands, a confession in return for your freedom, but I won’t be a party to this any longer and as far as I am concerned, you are as good as dead. Goodbye, Christopher.”
Nathaniel could see the devastation on Christopher’s face as she spoke; just as he realised that his whole impression of her was a lie, his foolish actions had lost her.
“Mari!” Christopher called as she walked out, but she didn’t acknowledge him.
They silently waited in the hallway as the guard locked the door.
“Do you need a doctor?” the guard asked her.
“No, I just want to go home.”
Nathaniel could see a bruise forming on her neck but she was breathing easily and able to talk, so she was probably fine.
The guard walked them back to their coach and bade them farewell.
***
Once home, Nathaniel poured her a brandy, despite the early hour, since her throat must be hurting and the brandy would help numb it.
Annabelle fussed over Damaris, who received the care with remarkable tolerance, then Nate explained what had occurred as simply as he could. While he and Annabelle talked, Damaris remained silent, almost catatonic, moving only to sip her brandy.
When he had answered all his sister’s questions, silence reigned for a few moments.
“I want to get a special license,” Damaris suddenly announced, causing Annabelle to gasp.
“Are you getting married?”
“I asked her to marry me last night, and she agreed.” Had it really been less than one day, he wondered. “We joked about getting a special licence but decided against it.”
“We won’t marry here,” Damaris assured him. “We’ll go home, but I don’t want to wait three weeks. If we have a special license, we can marry wherever and whenever we want.”
“Are you sure? You’ve had a trauma, you may-”
“I’m sure,” she cut him off. “I confess, the idea of marriage does scare me but I love you, and your family, and I’ve spent enough of my life looking backwards. It’s time I focused on building my future, with you.”
She was right, a special licence gave them the freedom to marry when they liked, it didn’t have to be a quick wedding, so if she changed her mind he would wait, if that was what she wanted. He hoped that she wouldn’t change her mind though because even if she had second thoughts afterwards, he could spend the rest of his life proving her wrong.
Epilogue
Damaris sighed with relief as Lilly was called away to help solve a problem in the kitchen, and retrieved the letter from under her jewellery box. The housekeeper had brought it this morning, along with other letters offering good wishes for today and her marriage. Most of those letters came from people that she didn’t know particularly well, so they were short and to the point. This letter had stood out however, as it was fatter than the rest by far and on closer inspection, she realised that the address was written in Wellington’s hand.
She had opened and read the others as Lilly did her hair, but managed to slip this one out of sight.
She broke the seal but hesitated before opening the letter, a little frightened of its contents. It had been a week since she had left London and despite her worries about the future, she hadn’t changed her mind because she knew this was the right thing to do. This letter was about her past however, a past that she would love to forget if she could, and she feared its contents in case they brought her more pain.
But could one forge a successful future while hiding from the past, she wondered.
Steeling herself, she unfolded the letter and began to read.
Dear Damaris,
I was sorry to hear what had occurred between you and your brother but when I attempted to visit you two days later, you had already returned to Lanford. Acting in your stead, I took the confession from Christopher Howard and have decided to abide by our agreement to exile him for his crimes. I know that you have been seeking answers for the past and so I shall attempt to sum the confession up for you, as succinctly as I can.
It seems that the idea of selling secrets to the French came from your mother. In the past she’d had an affair with one of your father’s friends and colleagues in the War Office, a widower named Captain Hurley. He was rather fond of spirits and after imbibing a little too much, would often let sensitive information slip. That relationship ended and she moved onto Lord Dickinson, the Justice of the Peace for Lanford. She let slip about the indiscretions of her former beau and he suggested that they could use some of those secrets to make money. She resumed her relationship with Captain Hurley, using their time together to ply him with alcohol and gain information, as well as searching his desk once he had passed out.
Your mother had quite a passion for all things French, most notably in her fashions, but as a girl she had spent time there and at the behest of Lord Dickinson, she contacted some of her friends and discreetly made enquiries.
Once they had made contact with an individual who was interested in purchasing their information, they needed a method to safely pass it to the French.
Christopher was well known as a ne'er-do-well and he asked Michael O’Grady for advice.
It seemed that Mr O’Grady had once had a client who owed him a great deal of money. Working together, they arranged to have the gentleman’s paintings exchanged for forgeries, so that he could sell the originals to repay the debt, and his wife would be none the wiser. For this purpose, Mr O’Grady contracted the services of a female painter who was talented, but not receiving the recognition she deserved. He suggested a similar ruse to your brother, of selling a forgery, with the information concealed between two layers of canvass or hidden within the wooden frame.
As well as payment, in return for his assistance, Howard and Dickinson agreed to protect O’Grady from prosecution, enlisting the services of Mr Smyth to act as Constable for Lanford.
It seems that your father eventually became suspicious of the large sums of money that your brother had, especially given his reluctance to work, and began to investigate. When the ruse was discovered, Christopher believes that your father thought the secrets being sold must have come from him, and so as to avoid being accused of treason himself, he tried to compile as much evidence as possible before alerting his superiors at the War Office.
Sadly, that appears to have been his downfall.
While investigating, your father spoke with a few art dealers about the transactions his son had been making, and word got back to your brother. He swears that he didn’t harm your father and that he didn’t know the plan ahead of time; however he did tell his co-conspirators what his father was doing. Smyth stopped your father on his way to London and using a ruse, engaged him in conversation and struck him on the head. He was then taken to Dickinson’s estate and kept in an old ruin on the property, where he was questioned about what he had learned and whom he had told.
Christopher claims that by the time he was told of the kidnapping, your father was already dead.
Damaris paused and closed her eyes, pressing her fingertips into her lids to prevent her tears from flowing; she needed to finish this letter. After a few deep breaths, she felt calmer and resumed reading.
I am assured that death, when it came, was swift and that your father did not suffer.
A ticket to the Americas had already been purchased and a gentleman found to take the journey. Your brother simply had to leave the receipt where Smyth could easily discover it.
Besides those mentioned, most of whom have already met their end through causes both natural and unnatural, your brother gave us the names of two other individuals who knew of and aided in the scheme.
The artist who forged the paintings was Miss Peabody, who has been
arrested for poisoning Mick O’Grady. In exchange for a sentence of transportation, she has confessed and confirms many aspects of your brother’s story.
Mr Morrigan, who handled the sale of most of the forgeries, is the brother-in-law of Mr Jacques Coiquaud, the Frenchman and compatriot of Napoleon, who purchased the secrets. It was he who ordered the death of Smyth and O’Grady and has been charged with conspiracy to murder.
Your brother claims that neither Dr Worthington nor Mr Sondheim were ever a part of the scheme and are entirely innocent. He also claims that his wife, Hortense is innocent of any wrongdoing as well. He claims that he did not meet her until after the war, when he and your mother journeyed to France for a holiday. We are continuing our enquiries into these individuals but so far, we have not uncovered anything incriminating.
Your mother still resides in France, of course and since there is no evidence of her involvement in the recent murders, nor proof that she knew of your father’s kidnapping and murder, we are unwilling to ask the French to deport her at this time.
I do hope these answers offer you some comfort, in that your family was not directly involved in your father’s murder.
As you may know, under common law, a person cannot benefit from their crime and so murderers are not entitled to inherit from the deceased’s estate. While your brother did not directly murder your father, his death was a direct result of Christopher’s crime, therefore he could be found ineligible to inherit. It would be up to you and your other brother to contest the Will however, but I feel that I should also warn you that it is likely that because of the indirect nature of the crime, it would likely take a lot of time and money to have him disinherited.
No one wants to see your brother profit from his deeds but my first concern is for you, my dear. Whatever your decision, you will have my full support and any aid that I am able to offer; I merely wanted you to know that the process could take some time.
If I have neglected or overlooked any part of this conspiracy, please let me know and I will endeavour to fill in the missing pieces but for now, onto happier things.
News of your impending nuptials is the talk of the town, not least because so many are mourning the loss of such a beautiful and wealthy heiress. I confess my own pang of jealousy upon hearing of your betrothal, but I cannot deny that you and Lord Copley seem very well suited. I wish you every happiness my dear, and only request that the next time you and your husband are in London, you pay a lonely old man a visit.
Your faithful servant,
W
P.S. I am receiving a lot of messages from a Mr McCallum, who seems especially keen to visit with your brother, who in turn seems to quiver when I mention the name. Neither party will tell me what is going on so for the moment I have denied the request. I wonder, can you shed some light on this for me?
She was smiling as she finished the letter. She didn’t believe that Mr McCallum would get an opportunity to hurt Christopher but equally, he had always seemed to drift through life, unscathed by the troubles he caused around him. It couldn’t hurt for his past sins to revisit him and besides, he had broken their agreement knowing full well the consequences.
She folded up the letter and slipped it into a drawer. She would show Nate but not today. Today was about looking forward not backwards.
She looked to where her posy of herbs and flowers rested. Each herb and flower that had been included had a meaning, most signifying love, trust, faithfulness and other things associated with weddings, except for the zinnias, of which there were three. They were to signify thoughts of absent friends.
Her wedding was in the same church where her father was buried and she vowed to stop by his grave before the wedding and leave a flower for him, almost as if she were making him a part of the ceremony.
***
The wedding was a small affair, just close family and friends, all of whom would come back to the house afterwards for the wedding breakfast.
Her dress was a beautiful shade of lilac, chosen because it was worn by women who were coming out of mourning and she had vowed to herself that today was her last day of mourning. While she still preferred to wear dark colours overall, she had thrown all of her black gowns away, and the McLaren sisters were still busily working on completing a new wardrobe for her.
As she walked down the aisle, she looked to Ella, who was in Lilly’s charge, concerned that she may be overwhelmed by the events of the day, but the girl was smiling, clearly enjoying herself and her very fine dress. The girl still hadn’t spoken but she often nodded or shook her head when asked a direct question, and found many inventive ways to make her wishes known.
Next Damaris looked to Nathaniel’s family, Isabelle and Annabelle, who both looked happy for her.
Finally as she approached the altar, she glanced at Nathaniel. There was no doubt that he was a handsome man, but it was the look of love he wore that made her heart skip a beat. She hoped that she looked as in love as he did, despite feeling acutely self-conscious in front of all these people.
In lieu of her father, Matthew had agreed to give her away and after he had passed her to Nathaniel, he went to join Miss Stephens in the front row, seemingly having decided to formalise his intentions towards her.
The wedding seemed to fly by, despite the many readings, and the breakfast afterwards would be hard to remember, despite the kind speeches and well wishes of those present. In fact the only memory from the breakfast that wasn’t tainted by a burning desire to leave and ravish her husband, was when Ella and Lilly came in. Lilly wished them well, then Ella gestured with her hand for Damaris and Nate to bend down.
They both did as she wanted and in a quiet but clear voice she told them “Con-gat-yoo-late-ons.”
They both bent down and kissed opposite cheeks.
“That’s an awfully big word for such a small little girl,” Damaris said with pride. “I’m sure that only a very clever girl could learn such a word.”
Ella beamed with happiness at such praise, and Nate picked her up and set her on his hip.
“Who taught you that?” Nathaniel asked, pleased by this turn of events.
Ella pressed her lips together, as though in thought and her brow furrowed.
“Was it Lilly?” Damaris asked, remembering how Lilly had been taking care of the girl at the ceremony.
Ella shook her head.
“Perhaps Isabelle?”
Another shake.
“Annabelle?”
Another ‘no’.
Nate was looking into the middle of the room and Damaris turned to see Matthew raising a glass in their direction, a silent toast.
“Matthew?” Nate asked.
Ella grinned and nodded.
“Well, very well done.” Damaris felt a pang of regret that the miracle hadn’t continued and Ella had spoken only one word, but at least she had spoken. It may take some time but as she came to trust the family, she would speak more, Damaris was certain of it.
Nate continued to hold the girl on his hip as they greeted the rest of their (thankfully few) guests.
Their honeymoon was to be spent in Bellchester, deciding how to best keep the estate now that Damaris wouldn’t be living there. Unusually for a honeymoon, the family would be accompanying them. Matthew had expressed a desire to look into importing and since the house was near the south coast, they hoped that he might choose to rent it, thereby giving him a home near his likely trade routes and giving them peace of mind that the estate would be well managed. Of course, nothing was set in stone; he didn’t even have an import business yet, although he was looking for partners.
Damaris was both excited to see her home, and dreading remembering the small life that she had lived while there. She may have only been away for three weeks, but so much had changed in that time; she felt like a completely different woman.
As Nate took her hand and led them up to their bedroom however, she found it hard to think of anything that might dent her happiness.
As he clo
sed the door behind them and kissed her passionately, her first proper kiss as his wife, she couldn’t help but think how lucky she was.
“I love you,” she told him when the kiss ended.
“Not as much as I love you,” he challenged.
She couldn’t help but smirk at his reply, turning it into a game and easing some of her nerves.
“Well I love you as much as a bat loves the night time.”
He seemed to like that answer and stole a kiss as he led her over to the bed.
“I love you as much as a fish loves water,” he countered.
It was the first rendition of a game that would be repeated for many years, or at least, Damaris sincerely hoped it would be.
Damaris didn’t believe in an afterlife or ghosts, just as she didn’t believe in anything that couldn’t be proven. Despite her father being gone for seven years however, he was directly responsible for her discovering Nathaniel and her newfound happiness. She had been very happy with his first choice of husband for her and if things had been different, she had no doubt that she would still be happy. Charles knew his daughter well and had made the best choice possible for her, more concerned for her future happiness than he had been for his own.
Now, six years after losing her husband, her father had brought her back to a town that she never intended to return to, and she had met a man who she not only respected, but who she loved more deeply than she had believed it possible to love someone, and all thanks to her long dead father.
She still didn’t believe in ghosts and spirits, but she was willing to concede that perhaps, love could transcend death.
The End
Available Now, the sequel to Her Saving Grace. Meet Damaris and Nathaniel’s daughter, Thea Copley, in
Murder at Locke Abbey
A series of seemingly inexplicable deaths at Locke Abbey causes house guests to speculate that the sinister events have a supernatural cause, prompting William Cole to call on the services of renowned detectives to help solve the mysteries.
Her Saving Grace Page 28
