He paused, too full of emotion to go on, and Underwood’s heart bled for him. He knew, only too well, how his brother must be feeling. With a huge effort Gil gathered himself together and went on, “Chuffy, she has asked me to marry her, now, then to bring her home here to die. She wants me to raise her boy for her.”
This was unexpected and it was a few moments before Underwood could think how to respond, “That would be an enormous responsibility, Gil,” he said, carefully refraining from the appearance of offering advice. This was something Gil must decide alone.
“I know it.”
“Are you going to agree?”
“Yes.”
“And the boy’s grandparents – how will you deal with them?”
“They shall be presented with a fait accompli. I will not have Catherine distressed by them. If they feel they want to fight for Alistair, they must do so, but it will be after Catherine’s … after Catherine has gone. My position will be almost unassailable, I will be the boy’s step-father and legal guardian.”
Underwood rose to his feet and paced the room, “Very well. You have my wholehearted support. But what will the ceremony be, Catholic or Protestant?”
“Astounding as this may seem to you, Chuffy, just at this moment, I really don’t give a damn! But I doubt there is a priest in the land who would perform the service, so I suppose Catherine will have to be married out of her faith, rather than I.”
“And you’re own situation? The Bishop will not be pleased.”
“The Bishop can go to the devil!”
“I have always thought so.”
*
Toby poured two large glasses of brandy and joined Underwood by the kitchen fire, “We seem to be making a habit of these late-night meetings in Mrs. Trent’s kitchen,” he said, as he handed Underwood his drink then seated himself in the other chair – Underwood, as usual, had laid claim to the housekeeper’s rocker.
“Do you object to my encroaching on your time and territory?” asked Underwood diffidently, only too aware that Toby had long since repaid any debt he might owe the family, yet still all the Underwoods demanded his time, his expertise, his loyalty and his affection. Toby grinned, his beautiful teeth gleaming white in the firelight, “Good God, no! It was merely an observation, not a complaint. I’m sorry, by the way, I was not here to deal with your little problem. You know I would rather be dragged by horses than see Mrs. Underwood distressed. I should not have gone out of town, if my old sparring partner had not been milling in Westleigh.”
“Think nothing more about it, my friend. God knows you deserve your free time more than most. You are getting little enough liberty whilst this horror is going on. I blame myself entirely. I should have ensured Mrs. Trent knew not to let Verity open that parcel. I was so sure it would all end with Rogers’ death, I allowed my guard to slip. It was a fatal error – as I have learned to my cost – and Verity’s!”
“Nothing of the sort must occur again. We must not assume that it was Rogers – and if it was, that he has not left more little surprises behind him.”
“Of course. I should have known the boy was capable of anything. But now we must face the next hurdle. If Gil marries Catherine – and I see no reason to doubt his determination – then Verity and I must leave here. Mistake me not, I’m fond of the girl, but if she really is as ill as my brother says, I cannot possibly let Verity know it – nor allow her to give birth here. It is too macabre to even contemplate.”
Toby could see his point. Verity would be devastated to know her friend was dying – and should that melancholy event occur at the same time as the birth of her baby – Toby did not want to think about the atmosphere which would prevail in the house.
“So, you are going to risk Windward House?”
“I see no other choice. Gil would be appalled if he thought he was driving us out, but time would appear to be of the essence. We must do nothing which will delay his marriage. Unfortunately, for us to go anywhere but our own home, would be rather obvious.”
“So, the rats have been cleared from the cellar?”
“They have – well done, Toby!” They exchanged a smile and raised a glass in silent toast to each other, then Underwood added hopefully, “Am I to presume that you have not changed your mind and still intend to join our household?”
“Oh, I think I can promise you my services for the foreseeable future. Mrs. Underwood will be happily settled into motherhood, and will have nothing more to fear from mysterious men with unpleasant intentions, before I re-examine my career.”
“Thank you, my friend. You can have no notion how much that comforts me. I have never before faced a dilemma which could not be solved by cerebral means. It is curiously frustrating to be so helpless.”
“Strangely enough, I do understand – I have never had a problem which could not be solved with my fists, but one cannot mill with the unknown and the unseen.”
*
A special license had been procured, Rev. Blackwell had been sent for and Gil had borrowed a suit of clothes from his bother. Everyone was rather shocked to see him out of his usual dark, clerical garb, for he took his calling very seriously and rarely appeared in fashionable clothing. But today he was a man and not a Minister.
He went into Verity’s room to receive her greetings and blessing, for Underwood had been adamant that she heed the doctor’s strictures and keep to her bed. She was terribly upset to be missing the wedding, but knew her husband was right. At this late stage she could not risk her child – and she would never, ever forgive herself if something were to go wrong now.
She held out her hands to her brother-in-law and when he took them she pulled him close and kissed him heartily on both cheeks, “Pray give my fondest love to your wife – when she becomes your wife. I hope we will both be well enough to see each other soon.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“Oh, Gil. I must tell you how happy I am for you! Catherine is such a sweet person, I am sincerely fond of her, and know she will make you the perfect wife. I know you will be as happy as Cadmus and I – and before long you will have your own children to keep Alistair company. This house will soon be alive with laughter."
Gil never knew how he managed to summon a smile to answer the happiness shining in Verity’s eyes, “Thank you, my dear. Now I must leave, or I shall be late. Goodbye dearest little sister.”
“Goodbye – and good luck!”
As he reached the door she called his name and he turned back.
“You look very handsome, Gilbert.”
Gil shrugged uncomfortably, then glanced down to take in the pale breeches, highly polished shoes, embroidered waistcoat, white starched cravat and blue superfine coat, “I feel damnably over-dressed, if you must have the truth,” he said with a rueful grin. She laughed, “Never mind. You can change the moment you are married – you would be the first man ever to do so.”
*
Catherine was staunch in her refusal to be married in her sick bed, so she had to be carried downstairs to the parlour. Underwood performed this office for her, once her maid had dressed her in her best. She had lost so much weight that her grey satin hung like a sack, but the light in her eyes more than made up for any deficiency.
Underwood left her in the charge of her son, who was looking very grown-up and serious, as befitted the man who was to give her away, whilst he went to see if the carriage was ready to take her on the short journey to church.
Presently she was carried down the aisle by Underwood, flanked by Alistair and Adeline Thornycroft, her matron of honour in the absence of Verity. She was seated in a chair, and Gil took his place at her side. Rev. Blackwell performed the service in his usual inimitable style and within a very short time, they were man and wife.
The serious part of the proceedings over, Gil bore his wife out of church, followed by their friends and the whole party made for the vicarage, where a stunning repast had been prepared by Mrs. Trent and various cronies.
The wed
ding breakfast had been laid in the dining room and Jeremy James lost no time in opening bottles of champagne to toast the happy couple. Alas Catherine did not feel able to join her guests and quietly asked Gil to take her to her room.
Underwood saw his brother carry his wife out of the room and reflected sadly that it was not much of a way to celebrate a wedding.
All too easily Gil carried the bride up the stairs and entered his room with her. She rested her weary head against his shoulder as the door closed behind them, “Gil, have I been horribly selfish to inflict this on you?”
He kissed her forehead, “We will have no regrets, my dear,” and then he laid her on the bed which had been his alone for so many months.
*
Thankfully Windward House was very nearly furnished, for Verity was certainly in no fit state to be directing a household. She felt rather more unwell than she cared to admit and could only be grateful that their delayed move had meant that for weeks carts and carriers had been trundling along the little lane which led to her new home, slowly filling it with their treasures.
Underwood’s mother, having received his instructions some weeks previously, had lost no time in despatching his crates of books and the few pieces of furniture he possessed directly to Windward House. Never a word of complaint would ever pass her lips, but she was heartily sick of having his paraphernalia cluttering her house.
Early on the morning after Gil’s wedding, Verity found herself being well-wrapped against the suddenly inclement weather, and bundled into Mrs. Trent’s brother-in-law’s carriage. He was subjected to various strictures about how fast to go and how to avoid the pot-holes in the road by the worried husband, who warned him of the dire consequences should his very pregnant wife be jostled unnecessarily. The threats of reprisal varied from a punch on the nose to the very real danger of having the task of delivering a baby on the highroad. The phlegmatic Mr. Trent the elder listened carefully, then spat copiously and muttered, “She’ll have had the brat before we set off if you don’t get yourself inside, sir!” Underwood was about to protest at the reference to his child as a ‘brat’, but wisely thought the better of it and climbed into the carriage.
Dr. Russell had been grudgingly invited to attend Gil’s nuptials, and though his presence was now thoroughly inconvenient to both his hosts, he was being surprising imperceptive to all hints regarding his departure. Gil was inclined to be blunt with him, but Underwood still remembered him with great fondness and was soft-hearted enough to ask him to join the party heading for Windward House. He went off in the first carriage with Toby, leaving Underwood and Gil and their respective wives to exchange their farewells and good wishes for the future.
The gallant Catherine had forced herself to rise from her marriage bed and stood on the step to wave her new sister-in-law on her way, determined that her friend she have no hint of how desperately ill she really was. Verity was whisked away before she could witness the sight of the vicar’s wife sink into her husband’s arms and be carried indoors.
Inside the carriage the atmosphere suddenly lightened, as Verity realized that this was her dream coming true. At last, after so long and tedious a wait, she was to have her own home. She was at once joyous and excited, and she could not restrain herself from reaching for Underwood and kissing him heartily, “Oh, my dearest, if you only knew how happy I am!” He returned her unexpected embrace, then patted her gently and pressed her back against the squabs, terrified that she might bring on labour if she made any sudden moves, “I do know it, my dear, but we don’t want to over-excite ourselves, do we?”
She grinned wickedly, “You must know, Cadmus, that this baby will come one day soon, no matter how calm you force me to be.”
He looked shocked, unaware how very transparent were all his motives to his loving wife, then he ruefully returned her smile, “Vixen!”
“Are the rats really all gone?” she asked tremulously, after a moment’s silence.
“Rats? Oh, rats! Yes, yes. I have Toby’s word upon it, have no fear.”
She shuddered with remembered horror, “Thank Heavens! I can’t abide rats – and one hears such horrible stories of them climbing into cribs and nibbling new babies.”
He observed her with an expression of utter horror and disgust, “Dear God! Where did you hear such a tale as that? Is this what ladies discuss over tea?”
“You know, Cadmus, you would be painfully bored if I were to tell you what ladies discuss at tea – or indeed any other time.”
“On the contrary, I should be fascinated.”
“Very well, we shall see. There are many different topics, of course, but they are strictly divided depending upon the age and marital status of the ladies present.”
“Really? Men talk about the same things all the time – drinking, wenching, and sporting pursuits – especially hunting and gambling.”
“Tell me about wenching,” she prompted naughtily.
“Certainly not! You were saying?”
“Young, unmarried ladies discuss fashion and their suitors – who is handsome, and most importantly rich!”
“And the married ladies?”
“Husbands’ bad habits, having babies, raising children, servants and women’s problems,” she listed, counting off on the fingers of her gloved hand.
“Problems? I thought the four former were their problems?”
“Not that sort of problem! The sort men know nothing about.” She laughed at his evident discomfiture as the truth dawned, “I don’t think I need pursue that any further, need I?”
“Emphatically not!”
“Mostly they talk about their various confinements. It is very fortunate that unmarried ladies are not privy to these conversations, or the population would be decimated!”
“I really don’t think we need pursue that either,” he intercepted hastily.
“Then it is fortunate we are here,” she said, leaning forward to better see the vision of Toby standing by the garden gate waiting to carry her inside the house.
Underwood barely waited for the vehicle to stop before he sprang energetically to the ground and rapidly approached Toby before he could reach Verity, “I suppose there really are no rats?” he asked in an under voice. Toby looked into his face, obviously puzzled, “Of course not! What the devil put that into your head?”
“Never mind. Will you take Verity or the luggage?”
“The luggage of course. I suppose I will have to remind you that though you are far from being newly-weds, this is your first home together and Mrs. Underwood ought to be carried over the threshold – by her husband.”
Underwood looked much struck, “God bless my soul! So it is.” He turned back to the carriage, “Verity, come to your husband’s arms. I am about to be uncharacteristically romantic!”
When she realized what Underwood intended to do, Verity began to laugh helplessly, “Oh no, Cadmus. I cannot possibly take this seriously. Let Toby carry me – or better still, let me walk. I am not an invalid.”
“Certainly not! Do as you are bid.”
He took her up and staggered into the house, almost cracking her head on the door frame, and very nearly dropping her when he tripped over the step. Their ringing laughter was the first sound the old house heard from them.
Verity, when she had recovered herself sufficiently to look about her, was delighted and astounded by the changes wrought over the past few weeks. Toby, in his limited spare time, had worked incredibly hard. He could not have lavished more care had the place been his own. A pleasant aroma of beeswax overlaid even the smell of cooking drifting from the kitchen. The windows sparkled, the floors and panelled walls shone with a dull warmth. A fire had been lit in every room in honour of the great occasion.
Mrs. Milner, previously Mrs. Underwood, had made a gift of the curtains for the entire house. Her taste was impeccable and Verity ran loving fingers over the brocades and velvets. Underwood’s books had arrived safely and had been carefully dusted and placed upon the shelves
by his own hand – it was the one thing he had found the time to do. His desk and chair stood by the window, glowing in the sunlight which shone directly in at this time of the day. In Verity’s room across the hall stood her easel, the almost finished portrait of Mr. Gratten still secured upon it. There was a small chaise longue, a davenport, and several small tables and cupboards which held her drawing and painting equipment. Shelves held her own, rather smaller collection of books.
The parlour, drawing room and kitchen were all equally cosy, though just as sparsely furnished. It took more than a few weeks to fill a house the size of this one.
Verity was enticed upstairs for a rest on the promise that she might look around the bedrooms first. The master bedroom held a four-poster which was probably two centuries old, but it had been left in the house, and was without woodworm. It seemed rather fitting that they should keep and use it – besides which, what could one do with it, always supposing one could get it dismantled and out of the house?
Apart from a clothes press, a dressing table and a wash stand, they had little else in their room, but the nursery held a wooden crib, tiny table and chairs made by Toby and Alistair’s old rocking horse, donated by the boy himself. Verity burst into happy tears when she saw it. This display of weakness brought on Underwood’s most masterful of moods and he severely ordered her to bed for a rest.
*
CHAPTER TWELVE
(“Vitam Regit Fortuna Non Sapientia” – Chance, not wisdom, governs human life)
The first visitor to the Underwood residence proved to be Mr. Gratten – bearing bad news, as was beginning to be his forte. Underwood was growing to dread the sound of his name being announced, much as old countrymen abhor the sight of a single magpie.
Behind The Horseman (The Underwood Mysteries Book 3) Page 10
