“Oh…” Finally, Gus understood the reason why Amaryllis was so terrified of Mrs Ballard. “He was dead?”
She nodded. “I did not know that at first. He lay still, and I ran for help, down towards the road. And the first person I saw was Edward, riding with his batman. I told him my trouble, and showed him the place where James lay. He told me that James was dead. Gus, he was so kind. He understood everything, even though I was hysterical, and making no sense, I am sure. He found where James had tied his horse and let him loose near where he lay, so it would seem that he had been thrown while riding. And he got me back home without anyone seeing. Only Maggie knows what happened that day. And now you, of course. Are you very shocked?”
“Shocked that any man should seek to use you so ill, yes. Relieved he failed. Glad that Lord Edward was there to help. And… it is wrong of me, I dare say, but I cannot but be happy that James Ballard met the end he deserved.”
“Oh. That is just how I felt… still feel. I should have pitied him, but I could not. God guided my steps that day, I am sure of it, in leading me to a place where I could defend myself, and in bringing Edward to my aid. You remind me of him, for you would have done just the same, would you not?”
“Of course I would! Any man of honour would have done as much.”
“As you did tonight,” she said.
“So that was how you met Lord Edward?”
“Yes. He came the next day to see how I did, although secretly, through the woods, so that the Ballards would not see him. And almost every day thereafter.”
“And so you fell in love with him,” Gus said, with only the slightest pang of jealousy.
“Oh no!” she said, eyes widening. “I liked him very much, and I felt safe with him, but… no, I was not in love with him. It was all on his side. But he did not press me, for he said his father would not like it one bit, since I was not titled. The duke wanted his sons to marry noblewomen, you see, so it would take time to bring him round. But he promised me… he promised Papa too… that he would take care of me, after Papa died, even if I chose not to marry him.”
She paused, taking a deep breath before plunging on. “It was so difficult. She had come — Mrs Ballard — just after James’s death. The day after the funeral, it was, and she berated me for not attending, but then she said that she forgave me for killing James — those were her exact words! — but now I would have to marry Richard, her next son. I refused, of course. How could I possibly marry into that family? It was out of the question. So she threw us out of the house, even though Papa was so ill, and we had to move very suddenly to the old town. We had friends there, for I had been going to church there for some time, to avoid James, and Edward helped us move. In some ways, it was better there, for we were no longer under her eye all the time, and Edward could visit more easily. But then… he was ordered to the Peninsular, and he had to go, it was his duty. And there was no time, and he wanted it so much and Papa wanted it too… to set his mind at rest. So I agreed but… Edward could not take me to Castle Morton, to the duke, because they had had the most violent quarrel. He had tried to tell his father of his plan to marry me, but the duke flew into a rage. He was quite irrational about his sons marrying commoners. Edward dared not leave me with him for there was no knowing what he might do without Edward to protect me. Besides, my father was so sick, and I did not want to move him. So we agreed that we would marry secretly, and I would stay in Drifford with my father, just as before, until his end came. Edward was such a kind man, and understood all my fears. So I married him.”
But her voice had diminished to the merest thread, and Gus was helpless to relieve her distress except by holding her tight and listening. So he sat silent, rocking her just a little, letting his emotions wash over him as he heard her dreadful tale.
“Three days,” she said, her voice laden with sorrow. “That was all the time we had, but Edward was happy and Papa was content, and it gave me Ned, so I could never regret it. But then Edward died… the lawyers came, for he had left me money in his will, but they called me Miss Cordwainer, so they knew nothing of my marriage. I felt safe, at least. And then Ned was born and Papa was so happy, you cannot imagine. But not long after that he died, and… and then…”
She stopped, and the tears flowed again. Gus rocked her, and murmured to her, although he had not the least idea what he said, and eventually she recovered a little.
“She came to see me again, after Papa died. She came to Holly Cottage and told me again that I must marry Richard, and if I did not she would make me go to the Girls’ Academy, which sounds so worthy, does it not? But it is a dreadful place, where men go to… to…” She shuddered.
“I know the sort of place you mean,” Gus said quickly. “Do not distress yourself by describing it.”
“But then… oh Gus, Ned cried! And she heard, and naturally she assumed it was James’s baby, for she knew nothing of Edward, nothing at all. No one knew of him, except, I suppose, a few of our neighbours, but they had no idea who he was or that I had married him. She would have taken Ned at once, but I fought her and Maggie came in with a knife and slashed at her, and cut her face. Then she said she would send a carriage for me the next day, to take us to Drifford House to live! So I ran away. Mr Parker helped, and Mr White, the physician who had attended Papa. I went to Newcastle for a while, since Edward had given me money to use, and a house to live in, far from Drifford.” Another long pause. “He had considered every eventuality. If I had a son, he told me, he would perhaps be the heir to the dukedom, and therefore of great importance and I must not hide him away. He would need to know of his father’s family and the inheritance that might one day be his. He must grow up at Castle Morton, but the duke’s temper was too uncertain to tell him openly, and his brother has a poisonous wife, so he would not entrust me to him, either, not until he was duke and could protect me. So we devised a story. I was to say I had been his mistress, and he gave me a letter to give to the duke, asking him to take care of me. He was honour bound to do so, Edward said. So in time, when I felt it was safe, I came here, and told the duke the story we had agreed, and how I wanted to live a quiet live, very secluded. He was very suspicious, for he said Edward would never have taken a mistress, and flatly refused to believe Ned was his son. Even so, he agreed to let me live in the lodge. We have been here, ever since, waiting… waiting until the duke should die and I could go openly to Edward’s brother. But then Henry died and Ned became the heir, but I dared not say anything in case the duke threw us out. At least we were safe here, but now we are not safe, and I am so afraid. How did she know where to find me? And what will I do when she comes back, as she surely will? Gus, you must protect us, you must! Please help us!”
Gus hesitated, but it was a night of confessions and he could not withhold the truth from her. “One of those questions I can and must answer,” he said. “I am so sorry, Amaryllis, but it is my fault that she found you tonight. She showed me your likeness in the church window, and she must have seen from my unguarded reaction that— Why are you smiling?”
“You called me Amaryllis,” she said, the smile so wide it almost reached her ears.
“Oh. Oh… I beg your pardon.”
“Oh no, do not apologise, not in the least. But you will protect us, will you not, Gus? You will keep us safe from her?”
“If I had the right, I would, but not without taking you both away from here, which, for Ned’s sake, I cannot do. His place is here, with his father’s family. But it is time, I think, to take you to the one man in the county who has both the right and the power to protect you and Ned from any threat, even Mrs Ballard.”
“The duke?” she whispered fearfully. “He will not acknowledge me.”
“He must and he will. You were legally married to Lord Edward, and there is proof.”
“Not here! The entry in the parish register is with the clergyman in Drifford, and my marriage lines are with an attorney in High Morton, and they will only give them up to the duke hi
mself. What if he refuses to believe it?”
“We can convince him, but we must do it tonight, so that you and Ned may be protected within the castle. Nowhere else is safe.”
“I… am not sure.”
“Amaryllis, do you trust me?”
“With my life,” she said without a second’s hesitation.
“Then put your trust in me tonight, and I will make him acknowledge you, and Ned too, I swear it.”
24: Humiliation And Grace
Amaryllis changed her torn and muddied gown for one of her seldom-worn evening gowns. It had never been very fashionable, even when new, and was less so now, so she had no doubt she would look like the provincial nobody she was — the unsophisticated daughter of a country parson. But she let Maggie dress her hair, and wrap her in the fine silk cloak that Edward had bought for her, which she had never worn, and fasten a garnet necklace around her throat. It had been her mother’s once, part of her very small collection of jewellery.
Apart from her wedding ring, Edward had only had time to buy her a small locket containing a curl of his hair, and it was not fine enough for evening. “When I come home, my love, I will shower you with bracelets and rings and jewelled combs for your lovely hair, and you will look like the daughter-in-law of a duke that you are,” he had said. But he had never come home, and now she hardly remembered him, and had never missed the shower of jewels. As she looked at herself in the glass, the garnets sparkling in the candlelight, she wondered when Gus would buy her jewels. He had already bought her a pianoforte, but jewels were only for a betrothed, or a wife. Or perhaps, knowing Gus, it would be a horse instead. The thought made her smile.
“Ah, that’s better,” Maggie said. “It’s been so long since you smiled much, Amaryllis. There, now. You look beautiful.”
Was she beautiful? Edward had said so, and Gus had looked at her with the same admiration in his eyes, but she could not see it in herself. Her skin was too pale, her face too thin, her eyes too large for beauty. Even her hair was no crowning glory, for it lay smooth and flat, and no amount of curling papers or irons could induce a curl that would not drop out within the hour. But there was nothing to be done about that.
Gus smiled when she emerged from her room, gloved and gowned for the evening, and Ned, too, wore his very best clothes to meet his grandfather.
“What about you?” she said, gesturing at Gus’s disarrayed cravat and shirt, muddied where he had lifted her from the ground.
“My valet will meet me at the castle entrance and make me respectable,” he said, smiling, and gazing at her in that way he had. “You look so beautiful in that gown.” And he swept up her hand and bent over to kiss the back of her glove, making her cheeks flame.
They had an escort of a dozen men across the castle grounds — several burly footmen, two or three grooms and the rest she recognised as gardeners, let by Captain Edgerton in his flamboyant waistcoat, pistols ready in his hands. At the castle doors, they were met by Gus’s valet, who tutted and fussed and pleaded to be allowed to replace the shirt and neckcloth.
“No time,” Gus said firmly. “Do the best you can, Willett.” But the poor man was almost in tears.
The butler hovered in the background, with several more footmen. So many footmen, to attend upon one elderly gentleman!
“Where is the duke, Bedford?” Gus said to the butler.
“In the Grand Gallery, my lord. The dancing has started but his grace has not yet announced his betrothal. I shall take you there myself, but…” His gaze swept up and down Amaryllis, and then to Ned, clutching her hand and sucking his thumb. “His grace will not permit the lady or the child to enter.”
“Nevertheless, we are all going to see the duke, and if that is where he is to be found, that is where we must go. All of us.”
“But my lord…”
“You may announce them as the Lady Edward Winfell and the Marquess of Darrowstone.”
Bedford blanched, looked at Amaryllis again, then back to Gus. “You are quite sure of this, my lord? Because his grace has had his hopes raised before.” Again he looked at Amaryllis.
“Bedford, it is the truth, as God is my witness.”
Amaryllis bowed her head. If even the butler would not believe it, what hope had they of convincing the duke himself? He had already decided the matter in his own mind, and she was not sure what arguments Gus could bring to bear that the duke had not already considered. She could prove it, given time, but here and now? Tonight? All Gus had were words, and words would not be enough.
But the butler accepted Gus’s statement. Her cloak was whisked away, and Bedford led them through dim passageways to the main stairs, lit by so many lamps that it was as bright as day. They ascended one flight of stairs and then another, Gus carrying Ned to the top. Then he set him down and Ned clasped her hand firmly again. Gus offered her his arm, and so they walked forward slowly behind the butler to a pair of carved oak doors, standing open to reveal an even brighter scene within. Music played, whirling couples danced, the ladies’ gowns shimmered, their jewels dazzled and Amaryllis had almost to turn her head away at the brilliance she saw before her.
She would have hesitated, but the butler marched on with stately tread, and Gus directly behind him, and she was swept along too on the current of his determination. Yet all her fears, all her foreboding were before her now. Here was the aristocracy in all its glory, but that was Gus’s world, not hers. She should not be here, this was all dreadfully wrong…
But Gus turned and smiled at her, and patted her hand with his, so that even through her glove and his, she could feel the warmth of his touch. “Be brave. This is for Ned, remember?”
For Ned. Yes, she could do that. Everything she had done thus far had been for Ned, to keep him safe. She could be brave for Ned, and also for Gus, for she did not want to let him down, not when he had done so much for her. And after this evening was over, after she had been humiliated in public, he would take her away and perhaps she could forget and be happy.
Then they were inside the doors, and the noise, the light, the brilliance were all around her. But Gus squeezed one hand and Ned clung to the other, and she lifted her chin defiantly. She would not crumble. She would not be a coward. She would face the next half hour with humility and a belief in God’s grace, and she would get through it, somehow.
The butler took a staff from a footman, and banged it three times on the floor. Heads turned, the dancers slowed, even the musicians faltered and then stopped.
“The Marquess of Darrowstone, the Lady Edward Winfell, the Lord Augustus Marford, your grace.”
Amaryllis wondered a little at the order of announcements, but supposed it was a matter of rank and beyond her comprehension. But there was no time to wonder about it, for the butler was standing aside, and then they were moving forward. Gus moved slowly, so that she and Ned could keep pace with him, but still it was inexorable, and she could not resist being drawn forwards too. All around them, she heard whispering, and fans were raised to hide the shocked expressions. The dancers parted like the Red Sea as their little party moved down the long room, and then she could see their destination, a dais at the far end, where sat several figures she did not recognise, and one she did. The duke. She knew that glowering expression of old. She lowered her gaze.
Gus came to a halt a few paces from the dais. The duke was on his feet, his legs spindly in his knee breeches and stockings. Evening dress was not kind to the elderly, and from her position below the dais, even with eyes lowered, she had an excellent view of his grace’s bulbous knees.
Gus bowed, and she managed a curtsy of sorts. Not her best, but at least she did not wobble or fall over.
“Good evening, Duke,” Gus began, in the sort of friendly tone he might use to an old acquaintance encountered unexpectedly. “A thousand apologies for interrupting your festivities, but we must discuss a matter which will brook no delay.”
The duke made a low growling sound, like a dog. “You young people are so
impetuous. It must all be done now, this very minute, or the world will no doubt end. But you are a meddlesome fool, Marford, and you bring great shame on the lady here by your actions. You had much sooner have waited, or better yet, done nothing at all.”
“No, for events this evening have made it imperative that we resolve this issue.”
“There is nothing to resolve, but if you insist, then you and I will withdraw and discuss the matter privily.”
“No,” Gus said, his voice a shade louder. “We will say what must be said here and now, for I will not leave the lady.”
Amaryllis wished she could curl up into a ball like a hedgehog, and pretend none of this were happening, or if it were, that it had nothing at all to do with her. All that could come of this confrontation was that the duke would say publicly all that he had once said to her privately. But she trusted Gus, she had placed her confidence in him, and now, however much she trembled, she must see it through and not disgrace him. And there was Ned to consider, too, clinging tightly to her hand, silent and terrified, just as she was.
“As you wish,” the duke said, drawing himself up to his full, imposing height. He raised his voice, so that he could be heard throughout the vast room. “Before you all, I declare that this woman is not my son’s wife, and the child is no heir of mine, however much I may wish it to be so. I have examined all the facts and found no evidence to support the claim.”
“But I have,” Gus said, and his voice, although quiet, resonated throughout the room. “The Lord Edward Winfell married Miss Amaryllis Cordwainer by special licence at Holly Cottage in the town of Drifford. The officiating clergyman was Mr William Parker, and the marriage was witnessed by Mr Anthony White, a physician of that town, and Mr Joseph Cordwainer, a retired clergyman, and father of the bride, who gave his consent freely. The marriage was recorded in the register of the Old Drifford Church. Three months later, Lord Edward Winfell was killed in action in the Peninsula. Six months after that, his son was born, and the baptism of Edward John Henry Winfell was recorded in the same church register.”
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