Make Me a Marchioness

by Gemma Blackwood

"And what if you are ruined?" asked Charles. "I will always stand by you, my love. You have nothing to fear."

  "I do not fear for myself, but for Annabelle," said Julia. "You do not know what it is to grow up as an outcast from society. To be a woman alone in this world, unwanted by anyone, with no prospect of marriage. It is an awful thing. I would never forgive myself if Annabelle suffered that fate because of me."

  "You are worrying needlessly."

  But Julia knew that she was not. By marrying across a class barrier, they were already pushing at the boundaries of what society would accept. The addition of Julia's troubled past would push them over that fragile line. Charles was blinded by his love for her, but in time, he would see that their marriage represented an unconscionable danger to Annabelle's future.

  Julia could hardly believe what she was about to do. She felt as though she were going mad. Half of her wanted to burst into tears, to bury her face in Charles's strong shoulder and never leave him.

  The other half was firmly resolved. She loved Annabelle. She would never allow any harm to come to her.

  "It's alright, Edmund," she said, her skin crawling to hear her own voice speak so kindly. "I'll go with you. I'm sorry that I abandoned you. I will not do it again."

  "Julia, what are you doing?" demanded Charles, seizing her by the shoulders. "Have you lost your wits? You cannot seriously mean to go anywhere with this man! I will have the footmen throw him out and you need never think of him again."

  Julia knew that his words were not true. She understood now that the true shadow which had been cast over her life was not her illegitimacy, but Edmund. She was his dearest possession – and the things that he did to men who stole from him did not bear thinking about.

  "Charles, dearest Charles, please understand. I am doing this for Annabelle." She was amazed that she was able to speak without bursting into tears. Her heart felt as though it were breaking in two. "I will always love you. We shared a beautiful dream. But a dream is all it was."

  Edmund held out his hand towards her, but she refused to take it.

  "Don't bother packing your things, sweet sister," he said. "I will send Mr Silver to collect them for you in the morning. Come along now. Let me take you home."

  "Julia, no!" cried Charles. "I refuse to allow this. Mr Mallory, I challenge you –"

  "Don't you dare!" Julia snapped. "Don't you dare challenge him to a duel and risk leaving Annabelle fatherless. I have made my decision, Charles. There is no helping it. I can only hope that you come to understand one day why I have done this."

  She walked out of Harding Hall with her head held high. Nothing under the sun would ever compel her to let Edmund see her tears fall.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  An insistent knocking on the door roused Charles from his fitful slumber.

  He ignored it. Sunlight was streaming in through the cracks in the curtains, but he paid it no heed. He had no desire either for sunlight or for company.

  It had now been three days since Julia had left Harding Hall. At first, once the shock had worn off, he was seized by a burst of feverish energy. All his attention had been focused on getting Julia back. Kit had come out from his wedding celebration to find Charles mounting a horse and preparing to run the carriage down on the way to London.

  All Kit's energy, together with Peter Kildare, had been but barely sufficient to restrain Charles from hunting Mallory down that instant.

  "And what exactly do you imagine you'll do when you catch him?" asked Kit. "Miss Mallory has forbidden you to duel him. He has threatened your daughter! Really, Charles, it's madness to chase after them without forming a plan."

  If Kit was baffled by the extent of Charles's rage over losing a governess, he neither commented on it nor questioned Charles about it. Kit had many flaws, certainly, but as a friend, in times of trouble, he was second to none. He saw that Charles was wretched over Julia's departure, and he accepted it unquestioningly.

  "You have done more than enough for me," said Kit, once he and Peter had wrestled Charles back inside. "Let me now perform some service to you. I am going to London with Felicity today. Let me take a message from you to Miss Mallory's friend, the Duke of Westbourne. If you are going to take on a dog like Edmund Mallory, it would be as well to have a Duke on your side."

  "Nonsense," Charles snapped, though the plan was not nonsense at all. "I will go to London myself."

  "And leave Lady Annabelle alone?" asked Kit. "Charles, I would not advise it until your men have made a thorough search of Chiltern to flush out any men Mallory may have left behind. I would not consider yourself safe until you know he is back in London, thinking he has won."

  "Let him get away with her?" Charles bellowed. "That is the worst piece of counsel I have ever heard!"

  "My lord, if I may," interjected Peter, "I am inclined to agree with Lord Christopher. It would be extremely foolish to risk alerting Mr Mallory to your plans before they are fully formed. If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion? Allow Mallory's man to collect Miss Mallory's things tomorrow. Behave in all ways as though you have no intention of going after her. Lull him into a false sense of security, and strike when he does not expect it."

  "I cannot and will not leave Julia in the hands of that blackguard a moment more than necessary!"

  Peter and Kit exchanged a weary look that did not escape Charles's notice. He was aware that the truth of his relationship with Julia was becoming more apparent by the minute, but he could not bring himself to care.

  The only thing that mattered was that Julia was gone. She might be in danger, she might be frightened, she might be hurt, and he was not there to protect and comfort her.

  The thought made him sick to his stomach.

  "I will go to the Duke of Westbourne," Kit repeated, laying a reassuring hand on Charles's shoulder. "I beg you, for Annabelle's sake, do not make a move until the Duke has been able to track Mallory's movements in London."

  "And what am I to do in the meantime?" spat Charles. "Wait? Wait and do nothing, like a frightened old maid?"

  "You are lying in wait like a hunter watching its prey," said Peter. "Mallory will be caught in your trap soon enough."

  The argument had lasted some time more. Finally, in desperation, Kit had dragged Charles into the schoolroom, where Annabelle was playing a game of cards with Miss Kelsey.

  "Will you really risk her safety over your infatuation with a governess?" Kit hissed.

  Charles objected to the term infatuation. His need for Julia, now that she was not with him, hit him with an elemental force. He loved her. Every part of him loved her, down to the very marrow in his bones. He ached for her.

  But Kit and Peter were right. He would do her no good by acting rashly.

  The wait for the Duke of Westbourne's response was the longest stretch of time Charles had ever experienced. There was no joy to be found in the world any more. Going out, speaking to the servants, even spending time with Annabelle: all left the bitter taste of regret in Charles's mouth.

  He supervised the footmen as they made a thorough search of Chiltern and the village. He had Sally pack up Julia's things so that they could be delivered to Mr Silver the following day, and it was all he could do not to rush forward and knock the man down with a single punch.

  He ran through a thousand plans to win her back, each more ridiculous than the last. He rode across his estates at breakneck pace, hoping the blasting wind would whip the misery from his mind.

  Each day he waited for a letter from Kit or from Westbourne. For two days, no letter came.

  And now the third morning found him lying on his bed, exhausted after a sleepless night, willing the world to leave him alone and Julia to appear before him.

  The knocking came again. "Leave me alone!" Charles barked. He rose from his bed and stumbled to the bookshelf, where he pulled down a volume of poetry which had been found in Julia's room after that foul creature, Silver, had cleared it out. He opened it at a random page and try to imagin
e the thoughts which had run through Julia's exquisite mind as she read. It was useless. She was is dead to him as Sarah was. Just as out of reach.

  Once again it sounded. Knock, knock, knock.

  Charles growled in frustration. He had left strict instructions that he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances until the Duke's letter arrived. Whatever emergency Larkin had imagined, the rest of the world could deal with it. Charles had no interest in it. He had no interest in anything.

  His heart was broken, broken as it had never been before, and the pain felt powerful enough to kill him.

  To Charles's horror, the door was pushed furtively open. Peter Kildare's head appeared around it.

  "How are you feeling this afternoon, my lord?" he ventured. "Perhaps you will allow me to fetch you some tea?"

  "I wish to be left alone," Charles snapped. "Can't you understand that?"

  "We are all very concerned about you, my lord," said Peter, stepping in. "Mr Larkin is on the point of sending for the doctor."

  "I don't need the blasted doctor!" All he needed was Julia. But, of course, there was no way that he could explain that to Peter.

  "At least let me open the curtains for you. A little sunshine will do you the world of good, I'm sure." Peter opened the curtains without waiting for permission. Charles blinked in the unwelcome light of day.

  "Now, my lord, are you in need of anything in particular?" Peter continued brightly. "A hangover remedy, perhaps?"

  "I haven't been drinking," Charles growled. "Drinking is for those who wish to forget."

  Peter diplomatically did not enquire who it was that Charles wished to remember. Charles supposed it was obvious enough. The governess had left abruptly, and, just as quickly, he had sunk into intractable misery. If he could summon up any emotion other than heartbreak, he might even be embarrassed about it.

  "Very good, my lord," said Peter. The valet was not a man given to expressing much emotion, but Charles knew that he had long disapproved of the raucous nights he'd spent with Lord Kit and the other gentleman around Chiltern.

  In truth, Charles did not wish to return to those days. They had never eased his pain over Sarah. They would certainly do no good to him now. In that much, at least, Julia's influence still lingered. He clung to his sobriety the way a drowning man clings to a plank of wood. If that was the sum total of her impact on his life, at least that was something.

  "Now then, my lord," said Peter, still with that infernal brightness of tone. "Mr Larkin has asked me to inform you that you have some rather illustrious guests in the house."

  "I have absolutely no desire to play the host today," said Charles. "Inform these guests, whoever they are, that I am indisposed. Send them on their way."

  "It is the Duke of Westbourne and the Duke of Rawly," continued Peter, as though Charles hadn't spoken. "His Grace the Duke of Westbourne apparently has some news regarding our Miss Mallory."

  At the sound of Julia's name, Charles jumped as though an electric shock had run through him. Peter did his best not to notice. "Julia?" Charles asked hoarsely. "What has happened to her? Is she safe?"

  "If I may make a suggestion, my lord? I think you had better get dressed and go and speak to the Dukes yourself. Here, let me set out your shaving things. Unless you wish to pursue growing a beard? Personally, I think your lordship is much better suited to a clean-shaven face. Though I would not wish to presume."

  "Get on with it!" ordered Charles, leaping up. "I don't want to keep the Dukes waiting, after all."

  As Peter worked up the foam in the shaving bowl, he regarded Charles with an air of satisfaction. "Very good, my lord. May I say how good it is to see you taking an interest in something again."

  "Thank you, Peter," said Charles, feelingly. The two men exchanged a look of understanding. Then, as if nothing at all were out of the ordinary, Peter took out the razor and began shaving Charles's face.

  Charles was pleased to see that Larkin had plied the two Dukes with refreshments in his absence. They were seated at opposite sides of the room, looking, to Charles's eyes, a little awkward. It was a well-known fact that the Duke of Rawly and the Duke of Westbourne did not, as a rule, get on. The previous summer, when Westbourne's brother had married Rawly's daughter, had gone only a small way towards alleviating the tension. Charles could not imagine what had induced them to visit him, unexpectedly and at the same time.

  "Chiltern!" cried Rawly, slapping Charles on the back. "My dear friend, how are you? We got the impression from Larkin that you were not quite yourself."

  "Don't fret about me, Rawly," said Charles, mustering a smile. "I have the constitution of an ox, as you well know."

  "Chiltern," said Harry, Duke of Westbourne, somewhat more formally. He gave the Marquess a bow, which Charles returned.

  "Good morning, Your Grace – or, I should rather say, good afternoon. Are you in need of any more refreshment? It is such a long journey from London." The effort of playing host grated on him painfully. All he wanted to do was seize the young Duke by the shoulders and demand to hear the news of Julia at once.

  "On the contrary," said Harry, "the roads are very good at present. I usually find February weather makes travelling and unpleasant business, but the Chiltern estates in particular are very well kept."

  Charles gestured for the two men to sit back down. He selected for himself an armchair that sat directly in between the two of them. They were sitting so far apart that it made it quite difficult to talk to them both at once, but he did his best.

  "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" he asked. "A social visit from one Duke is one thing, but from two is quite unheard of. My valet tells me that you have some news regarding Miss Mallory?"

  "We do," said Harry. "It was I who discovered this piece of news, with Rawly's help. We both feel a degree of responsibility towards Julia. Would you mind calling for her? She ought to be here to receive the news first. It does not seem right to tell you what she does not know herself."

  Charles was astonished. "Do you mean you haven't heard?"

  "Heard what?"

  "Miss Mallory is no longer under my employ. I sent Lord Christopher Yardsley to deliver the news to you personally. He should have arrived in London three days ago."

  "I did receive a call from Lord Christopher," said Harry, slapping his thigh in self-recrimination. "Several calls, in fact. But the Dowager Duchess advised me not to receive him. You know he has made a very unfortunate marriage. I assumed he was trying to weasel his way into my patronage. What a fool I was not to find out what he wanted for myself! Well, no matter. Where is Julia now?"

  The words left a bitter taste in Charles's mouth. "She has returned to London in the company of her brother, Mr Edmund Mallory. Believe me, I did all that I could to stop her, but she was quite insistent."

  "That blackguard!" exclaimed Harry. "There is no possible reason for her to go with him willingly. She must have been blackmailed, or otherwise put in fear for her life. How could you allow her to leave with that despicable individual?"

  Charles rose to his feet, unable to bear the implication. "Let me assure you in plain language that I was as much against her leaving as you are – more so, in fact. There was nothing I could do short of barricading her in the house. She made up her mind."

  "Now, now, Chiltern," said Rawly. "We did not come here to accuse you of anything. Though I must say, this is sad news indeed. It's more than I can bear to think of Lady Julia holed up in some hovel with that animal."

  "Did you say Lady Julia?" asked Charles, looking from Harry to Rawly in confusion.

  "You had better sit down, Chiltern, old chap," said Rawly. "Just wait until you hear that the daughter of the late Duke of Westbourne has been working in your house as a governess!"

  "That's nothing new," said Charles. "I've known for some time. But when you say Lady Julia –"

  "He is giving my cousin her proper title," said Harry. "Over the winter, I was reading through some of the old Duke's correspon
dence, which Rawly was kind enough to give to me. I found a series of strange references to a marriage which seemed to have taken place before the Duke's marriage to the current Dowager Duchess of Westbourne. I went to Rawly with my suspicions, and he helped me narrow down the time when he suspected it would have taken place. There was a period in which the old Duke withdrew from society in his youth. It was widely suspected that he had embarked upon a love affair. Of course, all the rumours died down a few years afterwards, when he married the Duchess. But it seems there was some truth to it. Rawly and I have searched through the records in every church in London. It was quite an undertaking. In Seven Dials, we found what we were looking for – a record of the marriage between my predecessor and a certain widow, Mrs Mallory." He gave Charles a grave nod. "I think I can guess what your next question will be. Yes, it is true – the marriage took place shortly before Julia's birth. Mrs Mallory must have been heavily pregnant at the time. The law is what it is: Julia is the legitimate daughter of a Duke."

  "But this is wonderful news!" gasped Charles. "Why is it only now coming to light? Her half-brother has been practically holding her hostage due to her illegitimacy. Why has this state of affairs been allowed to continue? What was old Westbourne thinking?"

  "I think I can shed some light on that," said Rawly heavily. "I knew old Westbourne better than either of you. I do not like to speak ill of the dead, but he was neither a model Duke nor a model husband. His own father, however, was a notoriously forbidding man. In our youth, we were all terrified of him. I can all too easily imagine that Westbourne may have been persuaded to give up his first bride, once his father found out about it."

  "That is monstrous!"

  "I cannot tell you how ashamed I was of my own family when I learned the truth," said Harry. "From what I know of Julia's history, her mother died shortly after she was born, leaving her to the care of her half-brother, who was then still little more than a boy. I can only hope that the old Duke had no idea of the plight his child was in. The alternative doesn't bear thinking about." He rose from his seat and walked towards Charles with an air of resolution. "But I intend to right the wrongs of the past. Julia will be welcomed into my family as Lady Julia Westbourne. It will not even affect the Dowager Duchess, as Julia's mother died before the Duke's second marriage took place. He left Julia no inheritance, but I will see to it that she has a share of the Westbourne fortune."