What the devil was going on here?
6
“THIS IS MARCUS Wyndham, the earl of Chase, Mr. Wicks. He is my cousin.”
“My lord,” Mr. Wicks said, his voice surprisingly vigorous for a gentleman of his advanced years. Marcus also saw the sharp intelligence in the old gentleman’s eyes at that moment. He realized that he would be a formidable opponent, no matter what his age. “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. Er, it perhaps seems strange to you that I must see you as well as Miss Wyndham.”
“Actually, now, she is a lady. However, Lady Duchess Wyndham sounds a bit farfetched.”
“I agree,” she said. “Let us simply retain Miss Wyndham or perhaps even Miss Cochrane.”
“No,” Marcus said. “No, I won’t allow that. You are now a Wyndham and that is what you will be called. I like Lady Duchess.”
She gave him a slight smile, looked down at her white hands lying still in her lap. She said nothing more.
Marcus looked away from her to the solicitor. “Perhaps, Mr. Wicks, you would care to be seated near the fire. You can tell us what you must from that vantage.”
“Thank you, my lord. The weather is a bit brisk today and I find that the older my bones survive, the thinner they become. Now, let’s begin.”
Marcus sat beside the Duchess on an exquisite old Queen Anne settee, beautifully sculpted, covered with pale cream and dark blue brocade.
“Now, my lord, you are fully aware that your uncle, the former earl of Chase, married Mrs. Cochrane and legitimized the child of their union.”
“Yes, I approve of his action. However, why wasn’t I informed immediately?”
Mr. Wicks didn’t hesitate, but said frankly, “It was my agreement with your uncle. All was to be finalized before any of the Wyndham family was informed, including his youngest brother’s wife and her family currently residing in the Colonies in a place called Baltimore, and, naturally, your mother. This was to protect Miss Wyndham, er, Lady Duchess. Surely that is understandable, my lord.”
“Yes, certainly,” Marcus said, rising quickly and striding over to the fireplace. “Had I known before the legalities were completed, I would have posted immediately to Smarden and strangled her in her bed and thrown her body over the Dover cliffs. Yes, it makes a great deal of sense to a brigand of my stamp.”
The Duchess cleared her throat. “He’s merely jesting, Mr. Wicks. Unfortunately, after the death of Charlie and Mark, my father took a dislike to his lordship, because he was alive and they weren’t. Then, of course, all his wife’s babes died. This must have been the reason for his behavior, not because he didn’t believe Marcus honorable, but simply to rub his nose in it, so to speak. Marcus, it’s true. I trust you will not think of it further.”
“Don’t you believe it, Duchess. He blamed me for not being there to save them, that, or die with them. I was close by, over at the Rothermere Stud, but not close enough. He saw that as full measure of my perfidy, my lack of honor. He quite hated me, Duchess.”
“Surely you’re exaggerating,” she said.
“Am I, Mr. Wicks? Did my uncle tell you rather how fond he was of me? How delighted he was to see me succeed him?”
“Perhaps it is best if I address that a bit later, my lord. Now, sir, you must wonder why I requested your presence.”
Marcus merely inclined his head, an action that made him look older and strangely, quite forbidding.
“There’s no easy way to say this, my lord.”
“Then spit it out, Mr. Wicks.”
“The former earl left all monies, all properties, all houses, and all possessions not entailed specifically to his successor, namely you, my lord, to his daughter, Josephina Wyndham.”
There was utter silence. Marcus stared at her for a long moment, then said in a too calm voice, “Josephina? That is quite the ugliest name I have ever heard. You must thank me every night in your prayers that I renamed you Duchess.”
Mr. Wicks looked at sea, and twitched his papers about nervously. “Did you understand what I said, my lord?”
“Yes, certainly, sir. You have just told me that I am a pauper. A pauper living in this great mansion, but a pauper nonetheless. I have been stripped of everything. If he had chosen to beggar his family in a more efficacious manner, why, I couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be. You see, Duchess, I wasn’t at all mistaken about my uncle’s true feelings for me. Did he bother seeing to his own daughters, Antonia and Fanny?”
“Yes, my lord. He left each of them ten thousand pounds. But that was in his previous will. That will still stands, including all the bequests to servants, other retainers, and the remaining Wyndham relatives.”
“So I was the butt of his vengeance—I, his heir.”
“Not entirely, my lord. It is just that now, Lady Josephina is, well—”
“Don’t refer to her by that repellent name. She owns everything except for Chase Park, I believe. Is there anything else entailed to me, Mr. Wicks?”
“Yes, my lord. The London house on Putnam Place is yours, rather it is yours for your lifetime.”
“I quite understand. Aught else?”
“There is a hunting box in Cornwall that is entailed, near St. Ives, I believe, and some two thousand acres of rich farmland. There is nothing else, my lord. I’m sorry.”
“There is not a single bloody sou for the upkeep of this monstrosity of a house?”
Mr. Wicks said slowly, “Your uncle, the former earl, feared that you would simply consign him to the devil if he left you nothing to keep up the entailed properties. Thus, he has left me the trustee for all the Wyndham properties, monies, houses, possessions. I am also Lady Duchess’s trustee and guardian until she reaches her majority. When she reaches the age of twenty-one, she is to act in joint trusteeship with me to oversee all the entailed Wyndham holdings. The incoming principle from all the Wyndham holdings is excellent and continues to grow each year. There are properties in Devon, Sussex, and Oxfordshire. However, my lord, the monies are not within your discretion.”
Marcus said nothing. Indeed, he looked rather bored, dismissing both them and the killing blow struck him by his uncle, long-dead, no longer here to gain his vengeance.
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a negligent shoulder against the mantel. He laughed then, a very soft, bitter laugh. “You were wrong, Duchess. Will you now admit that he hated me? Will you admit that this is no simple nose-rubbing? The bastard—no insult intended to you, Duchess—the bloody damned bastard hated so much that I would succeed him that he has turned me into a poor relation, dependent on Mr. Wicks here for the very bread I eat, for any repairs I deem necessary to make, for the payment of all our servants. And doubtless dependent on you, his bastard, for any crumbs you would wish to throw my way, all this because of his hatred for me. He has crushed the hopes of his own progeny and future Wyndham generations.”
Mr. Wicks looked unutterably depressed. “Let me say, my lord, that I argued vigorously with your uncle, but he wouldn’t be swayed. He did hold you in remarkable dislike, I will admit that. However, he did agree to leave you a, er, quarterly allowance.”
Marcus looked primed for violence. “No wonder you all but laughed at me last night, Duchess, with me going on and on about becoming your guardian, providing you a dowry, protecting you as I now must protect my family. Now you have everything. Now you no longer need a man to see to your needs. Yes, you must have found all my prosings quite entertaining.”
“No, I did not. You must allow me to explain, Marcus.”
To her surprise, he managed to say with the utmost calm, “I don’t think so, Duchess. Well, I believe that I will consider this. Good day to you, Mr. Wicks.”
“But, my lord, there is more. You must stay! You must listen to me!”
“Even more than this? I think not, Mr. Wicks. I think I am quite up to my craw with your revelations.” He nodded to her, then strode from the room, not looking back.
Mr. Wicks shook his head. “It wasn’t a
n honorable thing your father did, my dear. Certainly making you legitimate was well done of him. Providing you a substantial dowry would have been proper, but this—leaving you everything and leaving his lordship an allowance, nothing more, leaving him the supplicant for any funds he will need—it is abominable.”
She was staring, unseeing, at the toes of her dark blue slippers that peeped from beneath her gown. “You didn’t tell me all of it, Mr. Wicks. You gave me no hint of what my father had done. You simply told me that he had left me quite a rich young lady, nothing more. What he has done is reprehensible. I won’t allow it. I won’t be a party to it.” She looked at him full in the face now and her look was fierce. “Listen to me, sir. I fully intend to undo all that he did. Marcus doesn’t deserve to be served such a turn. I refuse to allow him to be beggared. The nerve of my father blaming Marcus simply because he wasn’t there, possibly to drown along with his cousins.
“You and I controlling his purse strings? You and I giving the earl of Chase an allowance? No, it is hideous. I will see it undone immediately.”
She rose and began pacing. He’d never seen her so animated before. She turned suddenly and said in a deep commanding voice, “See to it, Mr. Wicks. You can leave me something, but all the monies, all the other houses and properties, any and all holdings must be returned to Marcus.”
Mr. Wicks said very gently, “I’m sorry, my dear, but I cannot.”
“What do you mean you cannot?”
“Your father foresaw that you could possibly react in this manner. He knew you were good-hearted, loyal, if you will, to your cousin. He said that if you refused the complete inheritance and all responsibilities it carried with it, then it would all be turned over to the wife of his youngest brother who died some five years ago, the wife and children living in the Colonies.”
She took the sheet of paper from him and read: Mrs. Wilhelmina Wyndham of Fourteen Spring Street, Baltimore, Maryland.
“There is quite a large family, I understand. Three children born of the union.”
“But I have never heard of this Wilhelmina, who would be my aunt.”
Mr. Wicks cleared his throat. “Well, it seems the late earl’s youngest brother was what one calls a gamester, a bad penny. He lost everything, including an inheritance from a distant aunt, and his father ordered him gone. He went to the Colonies. There he met Wilhelmina Butts and married her. To be blunt, Grant Wyndham was your father’s favorite brother, despite his dispossession by your grandfather. He thought it would be a great joke to bring his rakehell brother’s family back here, give them all the money—that is, ma’am, if you refuse to accept the responsibilities he’s laid upon you.
“You see that your hands and mine are tied. I will assure you, Duchess, that I would never treat his lordship as a pensioner, despite my issuance of a quarterly allowance for his personal use. I won’t treat him like a poor relation. I won’t be a tyrant about funds that he needs for maintenance or repairs for the entailed properties or lands. In short, I will consider his pride of the utmost importance.”
“You don’t know Marcus, Mr. Wicks. No matter your assurances, your kindness and understanding, he won’t accept it, ever. Marcus is a very proud man, but he’s even more than that, he’s perhaps excessively principled and holds himself to the highest standards. He’s actually quite magnificent.”
Mr. Wicks looked at her oddly, but just for a moment, then said, “Perhaps he won’t accept this. But then again, duty is a powerful thing. Does he want to see a vast estate gutted? I hope not. I do fear, however, and I said this to your father, that after I have gone to my heavenly reward, the man who takes my place may consider himself a very powerful being indeed and treat the earl like some sort of indigent charity. I fear that. As I recall, your father merely rubbed his hands together and laughed.”
“You have considered this a great deal, Mr. Wicks. Have you found no way out of the mess for Marcus?”
He brightened at that. “Oh yes, indeed, there is a way, yes. Your father, after he laughed, told me what he planned, but you and the earl won’t perhaps be inclined to, er, follow through with it.”
“And what is that, pray?”
“Your cousin must wed you before eighteen months have passed after your father’s death to undo what will come to pass. Indeed, the two of you marrying would cancel out everything I have told his lordship. Your father wanted your blood in future earls of Chase. He said it would help to dilute Marcus’s tainted blood.”
“Marcus’s blood tainted? That is utter nonsense. Do you so quickly forget that I am a bastard?”
“Nonetheless, it is what your father wanted above all things. He wanted your sons to succeed Marcus.” Mr. Wicks shrugged. “He felt that if you refused, then he didn’t care if the earldom fell into ruin. That’s what he said, ma’am, he didn’t care. This all happened after your mother’s death. He changed, an alarming change. He simply didn’t care anymore about anything. I was more than alarmed, but he simply didn’t care. I remember he said to me when it was all done, ‘Wicks, Bess is gone, my wife, the only woman I ever wanted, is gone. She never came to Chase Park where she always belonged, and she should have, if there’d been any justice. Let my nephew wallow in his own bile, I care not. Let him taste just a small bit of the injustice God meted out to me.’ ”
She sat perfectly still, saying nothing, not flinching, making no movement of any kind. She’d spoken forcefully, but always with that underlying control. She was, he thought, far too young for such control.
She said finally, her voice as pensive and calm as a dove’s song on a midsummer’s night, “My father died last January. This means that we must wed by June.”
“Yes, that is so. By June sixteenth, to be precise.”
“Why didn’t you tell Marcus of this—this way out of his difficulties?”
“I tried, but he walked out. He is shocked right now, unable to believe what his uncle has done to him. I will tell him this evening. However, my first concern is with you, my dear. If you have no desire to wed with your cousin, you must tell me now. Thus, it would be an academic exercise. It is entirely your decision.”
She rose slowly, every movement she made graceful and pure. She smoothed down her skirt, gently turned the bracelet on her right wrist.
“I lose everything if I don’t wed Marcus?”
“More accurately it is if you refuse to comply with the terms of his will. Regardless, you will receive fifty thousand pounds. As I said, my dear, regardless, you are a very rich young lady. But it won’t change the earl’s dilemma. Rather than you, all the rest will go to these Colonials. They will live here in England if they choose, rich and without a care, and he will have an allowance.”
“Marcus is a very poor young man if he and I do not wed by June sixteenth.”
“Yes, my dear.”
“Like Marcus, Mr. Wicks, I’m a bit overturned. I will see that you are shown to your bedchamber. We observe country hours here. Dinner is at six-thirty. If you would be so kind as to come to the drawing room at six.”
She smiled at him, a slight smile, more a shadow of an expression, but nonetheless, Mr. Wicks was drawn to that semblance of a smile, and smiled back at her.
“Until later, Mr. Wicks,” she said. “If there is anything you require, please inform Sampson.”
“Thank you,” he said and watched her walk gracefully from the library. He marveled yet again how a girl so very young could be so very composed and sedate in the face of what she obviously considered to be appalling news. He wondered how fond she was of her cousin. She had certainly defended him, had demanded that her father’s infamous instructions be undone. That must denote at least some positive feelings on her part. He wondered further if the present earl of Chase liked the Duchess enough to marry her if she were willing, or if he disliked her so very much to tell her to go to the devil and take all her damned groats with her, or if he simply hated the situation so very much, felt so very humiliated by the complete destruction of his w
orld, that he would tell her to go to the devil despite what he felt for her.
The earl appeared to be a proud young man. From the description given to him by the former earl, Mr. Wicks had initially been given to understand that Marcus Wyndham was a dissolute and disreputable young buck, bordering on malevolent. In short, a man worthy of no consideration whatsoever. He’d realized soon enough that it was spite on the former earl’s part, or even a mental sickness brought on by the Duchess’s mother’s death.
He played again and again in his mind the scene in which he would inform the earl he would have to wed the Duchess to save his hide.
She certainly wasn’t an affliction to the eye.
She was, however, born a bastard. Some people felt that nothing could ever change that.
Time would tell.
The earl appeared that evening promptly at six o’clock, dressed in severe black, his cravat simply but elegantly presented, his linen white as the young man’s teeth. He was remarkably handsome, Mr. Wicks thought, looking at him objectively. Also, he appeared to have learned a measure of the Duchess’s control. There was no hint in his expression, no clue in anything he said to anyone assembled, that everything he was growing used to had gone up in smoke. He was polite, nothing more, but then again, he was the earl of Chase, and wasn’t it proper that such a nobleman not be overly confiding or intimate?
Mr. Crittaker was present. Mr. Wicks realized within five minutes that the man was smitten with the Duchess. He tried to hide it, but there was such sloppy emotion in his brown eyes that Mr. Wicks wanted to kick him or shake him, or both. He wondered if the earl was aware of his secretary’s affliction.
Dinner passed smoothly. Lady Gweneth Wyndham, the late earl’s older sister, was the hostess, and was passing gracious even to a mere solicitor. She did say, however, during a course that included potted pigeons flavored too strongly with nutmeg and roast lamb with white beans seasoned with too much garlic, “Marcus, you really must do something about that blasted Esmee.”
Wyndham Legacy Page 8
