by Mary Nichols
‘I know that, but a special licence can be obtained from a bishop. York has an archbishop. If he agrees to marry us, no one dare say anything against it.’
‘But I always wanted my father to marry me, and my family all about me. And my friends. I do not want it to be a hole-in-the-corner affair…’
‘I understand, my darling. We can have a quiet ceremony in York to make it all legal and then have another service and a wedding breakfast when we get back and invite everyone. We can write and tell our respective parents so that they know what is happening.’
She laughed. ‘And give them time to get over the shock before we arrive.’
‘If you like.’ He did not say how much of a shock it was going to be to his parents; it would only spoil her joy. And there was no need. Once they had established their own household and everyone realised how well he had chosen and how happy they were, Louise would be accepted and loved, he was sure of that. ‘We can take our time going back, make it a wedding trip to remember. All those places we visited on the way up will seem very different when we go back as husband and wife. Viscount Leinster and his Viscountess.’
She laughed suddenly and joyfully. ‘I will wager the Piccadilly Gentleman’s Club did not expect you to marry the object of your investigation when they sent you after me.’
He laughed too. ‘That is only because they did not know you. I will invite them to our celebration and you will meet them all. You will like them, I know.’
‘If they are all like you, I am sure I shall.’
‘Come, sweetheart,’ he said, ‘the evening is growing chill. Back to the Shepherd’s Crook for our last night.’
They met Joe and Betty crossing the yard and went into the inn together. Jonathan called for a bottle of their best wine and some glasses. ‘We have something to celebrate,’ he told their host. ‘Will you join us?’
The drinks were poured and Jonathan raised his glass. ‘You may congratulate me. Miss Vail has consented to become my wife…’
‘I thought you were the lady’s guardian,’ Mrs Winter said, half-disapproving.
‘There is no law that says a guardian may not wed his ward, Mrs Winter. We are both single and not so far apart in age and the guardianship was only temporary while Miss Vail was travelling. Her parents asked it of me.’
The good lady smiled broadly. ‘No doubt they guessed the outcome.’ She raised her own glass. ‘I drink to you both. May you always be as happy as you are today.’
‘I am sure I shall be.’ He looked at Louise, smiling conspiratorially. ‘We intend to marry in York, the day after tomorrow.’
There were congratulations and toasts and much laughter, culminating in the news that Joe had proposed to Betty and been accepted. She could not wait to go back to Chipping Barnet to tell Alfred and arrange her own wedding.
‘We shall make a start tomorrow,’ Jonathan said.
Tomorrow they were leaving Moresdale, probably for ever, but Louise would remember it for so many reasons. The astonishing revelations, the sadness at what she had learned, Moresdale Hall and the church, the memory of the little boy and his grave, still so large in her mind, but in years to come it would be remembered as the place where Jonathan had proposed and a whole new chapter in her life had begun. Her only regret was that she had to leave without meeting the mother who had given her birth. But she must respect what the Dowager had told her and not make her presence felt.
She went to bed and fell asleep with Jonathan’s kisses tasting sweet on her lips.
She was woken by the sun shining through the window of her room and the birds twittering in the eaves. It was a moment or two before she recalled the events of the day before and went over them in her mind, every word the Countess had told her, Jonathan’s understanding and his proposal. Had she really accepted him? She slipped from her bed, leaving Betty snoring as usual, dressed quickly in her blue gown, tied a hat over her loosely brushed hair and went downstairs. No one was about and there was still some time before they had to leave.
For some reason she could not explain, she felt drawn back to Moresdale and a last look at the village, nestling in its valley. She would go there once more before she left, and then she would go home and make her peace with her mother. The past could not be undone and she had so much to look forward to. Could Jonathan really obtain a licence to marry at once? She smiled as she walked; he seemed able to get his own way in most things.
As she drew near the village, she heard the church bell tolling a single mournful note and saw little groups of people gathering to talk in whispers. At the gate to the churchyard she met the vicar. ‘What is happening?’ she asked him.
‘The Earl of Moresdale is dead,’ he said. ‘He died over a week ago and has already been buried in London, but the news has only just reached the village. It is a sad day for Moresdale and no heir to take over.’
‘I am sorry.’
‘I am going to the Hall to offer my condolences to his wife and mother and arrange a service in his memory.’
She watched as he tipped his hat to her and hurried off towards the Hall, while the mourning bell still tolled. It was hard to comprehend that the Earl of Moresdale was her true father. She had never known him and did not feel the loss. But she could not help recalling Catherine’s voice saying, ‘He is dead, Mama. It is all over. I am free.’ It had held a note of quiet relief, as if the death meant that she could leave wherever she had been confined and come home.
Still musing, she was not paying attention to where her feet were taking her and was surprised to find herself on the path on Moresdale Hill and climbing. She did not want to go back to the Shepherd’s Crook that way—it meant passing the place where Thomas had fallen to his death. Thomas Vail as he really was. In spite of that she felt drawn to the spot and continued upwards. She had almost reached it when she met a lone figure coming towards her. It was a woman in her mid-fifties, perhaps a little older, dressed in a black cloak with a hood pulled over her hair, but what Louise could see of it was a rich chestnut brown, rather like her own. She was thin and very pale.
The path was narrow at that point and as they passed, they both paused to look at each other. Hazel eyes, flecked with green, looked into hazel eyes flecked with green. There was a quiet moment of recognition between them, the exchange of a faint smile, and then they passed each other and went on without speaking. To have done so would have opened floodgates of emotion, and upset everyone: Catherine’s fragile mental health and Louise’s adoptive parents’ good name. Better to let the matter rest.
Louise carried on to the ledge. There was no detaining hand today; it was calm, the slight breeze cool on her cheeks. She stood and looked down at the drop, unafraid now. It was about fifty feet. She looked up at the sky, a clear cobalt blue, with two or three fluffy white clouds floating by. ‘You are up there, aren’t you, Thomas?’ she murmured. ‘Looking down at me and wondering… I may not have known you well in life, but I feel as though I know you now. May you rest in peace.’ She turned and retraced her steps. There was no sign of the Countess; she probably knew another way to reach the Hall from the hill. Louise surmised she had also been paying her last respects to the child she had nurtured. She hoped she could be at peace now.
Back in the village, she met Jonathan who had heard the bell tolling as he set out to look for her. He had heard the news about the Earl, but having heard Louise’s account of what happened at the Hall the day before, he was not surprised. ‘I thought I might find you here,’ he said. ‘Have all your goodbyes been said? You are not planning to stay?’
Full of her encounter with her mother, she smiled. ‘No, I am not planning to stay. Let us go home.’ Delighted, he hugged her and they walked back to where Joe and Betty were waiting with the carriage, ready to depart.
It took ten days to return to the vicarage, ten days in which the Viscount and his new Viscountess enjoyed every minute. They retraced some of the steps they had taken on the way, visited Mr and Mrs Slater to tell them their
news, explored the countryside, planned how many children they might have, all of whom, boys and girls, would be loved and nurtured. ‘My father’s estate includes a house and a small parcel of land some five miles distant, which has always been the home of the heir,’ he told her. ‘I have never used it, but now I think I must take an interest in the running of the estate. My father has been urging me to do so, for some time. Would you like that?’
‘Whatever makes you happy will make me happy,’ she said. ‘But what about the Gentleman’s Club? Shall you go on with that?’
‘I can do both. James does. And they are recruiting others all the time. When there are more to take over, I can retire and spend my time with my family.’
‘Is that what you want?’
‘More than anything. But I should still like to be involved with law and order.’
‘You could take your seat in the Lords and use your experience and influence there.’
‘Yes, I could. But there is no hurry. I want to enjoy married life first.’
As they drew nearer Chipping Barnet, Louise became quiet, wondering what her mama and papa would have to say to her. ‘I am nervous as a kitten,’ she told Jonathan, lying in bed in his arms the morning after their last night on the road. She was contented and sated after a night of lovemaking, which was all she had ever dreamed lovemaking would be. Jonathan was gentle and caring, drawing her on to the heights of ecstasy, an explosive coming together that left her full of wonder and drowsy contentment. She could not have been happier. Except for that one little cloud. ‘Will they forgive me? Will they condemn us?’
‘Yes, to the first and, no, to the second,’ he said, springing out of bed. ‘Come, sweetheart, the vicarage first and then Chaston Hall.’
‘I am dreading meeting your parents. They will undoubtedly disapprove of me.’
He thought that was highly likely but he would not, for the world, have said so. ‘Of course they will not. They have been telling me for years to find myself a wife and, now I have, they will be pleased.’
‘Pleased with a vicar’s daughter?’
‘Why not?’
‘Rank and family are important to them. Now if I had been—’
‘Louise, we promised ourselves we would not think of that. You are you and all I want in a wife. Only…’
‘Only what?’ she asked, in alarm.
He laughed ‘Do not, I beg you, tell them you dressed as a man and fought a duel with me. You will give them apoplexy.’
And on that happy note, they set out on the last few miles of their journey, arriving at the vicarage in the early afternoon.
The whole family was there to greet them: Papa, Mama and all three brothers, Matthew and Mark with their children, and Luke given a day’s holiday from his new curacy. Louise did not wait for the carriage door to be opened, but flung it open herself and jumped down, running to hug each one in turn. Jonathan followed her and stood quietly waiting until she should notice him again. ‘Forgive me,’ she said over and over again to each of them and was assured they did.
When she had embraced everyone, she turned and held out her hand to Jonathan, and he came quickly to her side. ‘Mama, Papa, everyone, this is Jonathan, Viscount Leinster. My husband.’
Everyone made elaborate bows to him, which were reciprocated, and bade each other ‘How do you do?’ and then they all went inside where a sumptuous spread was laid out in the dining room. ‘Come and eat,’ Mrs Vail said, as Joe disappeared with Betty to find Alfred. ‘Tell us all your news.’
Much of what had happened they would not recount, and it was evident only her mother and father and Luke knew the real reason for her sudden departure and it was put down as a sudden desire to see the place of her birth. She blessed them for their discretion and concentrated on the places she visited on the way, her stay with Mrs Slater, the Moresdale Fair and Jonathan’s proposal and her acceptance. ‘The archbishop married us himself,’ Louise said. ‘Joe and Betty witnessed it.’
This led to talk of their plans for a second ceremony in the church and a wedding breakfast and the arrangements were discussed. ‘Then we are going to live in Barnet,’ Louise told everyone. ‘And Jonathan is going to stay with the Piccadilly Gentleman’s Club. At least to start with.’
It was later when Louise was alone with her mother in her old bedchamber, sitting together on the bed, that they talked about the reason for her journey. ‘I am so very, very sorry I dashed off like that,’ Louise said, hugging her. ‘It must have broken your heart to be treated so badly.’
‘I was hurt at first, but then I asked myself what I would have done if I had been you and I had to admit I might have done the same.’
‘I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,’ Louise said. ‘The window was open and I could not help hearing. I was so shocked, I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to talk to you, but you had gone out and then I felt angry that you had kept the truth from me. You were always telling me what a madcap I was, and in this I proved you right, didn’t I? Mad and impetuous. Please forgive me.’
‘Of course I do.’ Elizabeth paused. ‘I did not like to ask in front of everyone else, but did you see Catherine? What did she tell you?’
‘I only had one glimpse of her and we did not speak. I had an inter view with the Dowager. She told me everything.’
‘Then it is I should be asking forgiveness. I should not have kept the truth from you. I denied you your birthright.’
‘Let us not apportion blame, Mama. I could not have been more loved and protected. I have not missed anything. Poor little Thomas had the worst of it.’
‘Yes. I grieved for him, Louise, I really did, but I had the consolation of other sons and I had you. Catherine had nothing.’
‘But why did you agree to the exchange in the first place?’
Elizabeth sighed. ‘I cannot really explain why I did,’ she said. ‘I suppose I was still suffering the aftereffects of the birth and not thinking clearly. And I had so wanted a daughter. The midwife was very persuasive and I knew Catherine would suffer dreadfully at the hands of her husband and so would you for not being the son he wanted. I regretted it the next day, but it was too late then. Your papa came back from attending his parishioner and he was so delighted with his daughter I could not bring myself to tell him what I had done.’
‘When did he find out?’ Louise supposed her mother was in the same situation as the Countess. The deed had been done; confession and changing back again was simply not possible.
‘When Thomas died.’ She stopped speaking, gathering her strength to go on. ‘I was inconsolable, it was impossible to hide my distress, and your papa knew something was wrong, so I confessed what we had done and that Thomas had been his son.’
‘He must have been shocked.’
‘That was the least of it. He would not speak to me for days and spent hours on his knees in the church, but in the end he realised nothing could be gained by revealing the truth. Thomas was dead. He had always thought of you as his daughter and that would not change. He said he did not think the Earl would acknowledge you and it was best to leave him to his grief over Thomas. But we could not stay in Moresdale, so he took the living at Chipping Barnet, telling everyone it was a preferment and being near London was more convenient to launch the boys into careers.’
‘According to the Dowager, I am very like the Countess when she was my age.’
‘Yes, you are.’
‘Did you know her well?’
‘Oh, yes, she is my cousin, our mothers were sisters, daughters of the Earl of Sheffield.’
‘An Earl!’ Louise exclaimed. ‘You mean you are the granddaughter of an Earl?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, Mama!’ Louise exclaimed. ‘I never knew that. Why has it never been mentioned in the family?’
‘My marriage to your father was frowned upon by my family and they cut me off and because talking about it might upset your dear papa, I never brought it up. The only person who did not condemn us was Catherine. It was
she who persuaded her husband to give your papa the living at Moresdale. We were very close then. She envied me my strong sons and when we were both expecting at the same time we would talk about our plans for our children. She badly wanted a son for the Earl’s sake and I wanted a daughter to make my family complete, so you see the exchange was not perhaps as cold-blooded as it sounds. We were all family. But your papa wanted you to be told, because he wanted you to make a good marriage to fulfil your birthright and as the daughter of an Earl, you could almost take your pick of the eligible bachelors. By refusing to let him do it, I was denying you the opportunity. And for that I beg your pardon.’
Louise laughed and hugged her mother. ‘I found my eligible bachelor for myself, so you denied me nothing. I had a happy childhood, which the Dowager felt I would not have had at Moresdale Hall and now I have Jonathan. What more could I possibly want?’ She stopped. ‘I promised the Dowager I would not reveal anything about being the Earl’s daughter to anyone but Jonathan, even though it would make it easier for me to be accepted by his parents. He said it did not matter in the least, but there is no secret about who you are, is there?’
‘No, but Lady Chastonbury knows it anyway. I guessed she might be a stickler for protocol, so when I received your letter saying you and Lord Leinster were going to be married, I had your father drive me over to call on her. She was stiff-rumped at first, angry with her son and inclined to think you had inveigled him into marrying in haste so that she would have no opportunity to voice her disapproval and bring an end to the liaison.’ She laughed suddenly. ‘I can be haughty when I choose, you know, and I met her formality with my own and told her the Earl of Sheffield’s title was senior to the Earl of Chastonbury’s, which her husband confirmed and after that she was all sweetness. You go to Chaston Hall with your husband, Louise, and you hold your head up. Be proud. Show her you are more than a fitting bride for her son.’
