The clerk at the coach office in Shropshire hadn’t been able to identify Christopher’s wife, but he had not forgotten her initial intention of going to London and seeking help from David. He could only hope that was a plan she had adhered to; at least she would be safe with him.
Since he returned, he had referred to her as his wife; it had come naturally to think of her that way, instead of as his cousin, or simply ‘Susan’. He had not expected to be worried about her, either. He had expected to be angry that she had put herself and that innocent child at risk, but it was his own fault, wasn’t it?
He had believed he was protecting her by telling her as little as possible, even not wanting her to know where the child was going. But what did he know? He wasn’t a mother or even a father. He had enquired about an orphanage and he had done so within her hearing. If he had any doubt about her reasons for running away, the few words which made up her farewell note were enough to dispel those doubts.
It was obvious why she had chosen this dangerous path and it was obvious who was to blame. If he had only given her the respect of sharing his ideas and plans with her, none of this would have happened.
***
Christopher was anxious to leave Somersham, to get to London and Susan’s cousin, David. He was sure that was where she would have gone but it would look more than strange should he leave without spending some time with his parents, the Earl and Lady Hartleigh, at Hartleigh House across the other side of the estate.
He hoped he could rely on Mason to keep his secret, that he wouldn’t let the Duchess browbeat him into telling her what he believed was the truth. As he had told Susan, Mason was not very good at keeping secrets.
On arrival at Hartleigh House, his mother put aside her sewing and jumped to her feet, took her son into her arms and hugged him. Apparently, word had reached her of Susan’s supposed illness.
“My poor boy,” she said. “Just wed and this happens. How was she when you left?”
Christopher had never lied to his mother and he was reluctant to do so now, but he had to keep Susan’s secret no matter what the cost. Lord knew he had not done right by her so far, despite his noble promises at the beginning.
“She was very ill, Mother,” he said. “That was why they would not let anyone see her. I would not have left her for any other reason and now I must return. I fear for her recovery.”
“Of course you do,” the Earl said. “Don’t worry about anything here. I can help run things in your absence. Your place is with your wife.”
“Thank you, Father. Just one favour, please.”
“Anything.”
“Don’t let the Duchess try to see Susan. They will likely not let her in even if she does go to London and to be honest, I fear she will only upset Susan further even if they do.”
Christopher could see the Earl was taken aback, but Jane looked as though she knew precisely what he meant.
“She is her mother, Christopher,” George said. “You cannot expect her to simply stay away when she is so ill. I can see no harm in her visiting, if it will make her feel any better.”
“Your father is right, Christopher,” Lady Hartleigh said. “If it were you or Mason, nothing would keep me away.”
Christopher was shaking his head, but inside he was afraid. The Duchess would go to London, to Guy’s Hospital, she would discover that Susan had never been there and then what? This was getting more complicated than he could deal with.
Lying did not come easily to him and now it seemed his tales were twisting him into knots. He would have to tell his father a different tale, the same one he had told Mason. That seemed best, since Mason was unlikely to keep it from the Earl anyway. Why did Susan have to run off?
He sat down opposite his father and looked at him earnestly. It would not be the truth; he would never tell anyone the truth.
“Father,” he said. “Mother. I have a confession. I lied to the Duchess, but I do not want to lie to you. I don’t want her to visit the hospital because Susan is not there, has never been there. She’s not ill at all.”
“Not ill?” Jane said. “Why did you say she was ill and worry her mother like that?”
“The fact is, she has left me. She ran away a few days ago and before I had a chance to go after her, Mason arrived with the news of the Duke’s death, so I had to come here instead.”
“She has left you?” George said. “Why? What did you do to her?”
That question aroused Christopher’s anger just as it had when his brother asked it. One mistake in his youth, which he still didn’t agree was a mistake, and he would be forever paying for it.
“I did nothing to her, Father,” he answered angrily. “She didn’t want this marriage in the first place. We quarrelled. I must have said something to make her think it was not worth fighting for. But I need to find her and assure her she is wrong.”
“I knew it was a mistake,” Jane muttered.
“You know as well as I do that the Duchess will think the worst if she knows the truth,” Christopher went on. “You thought it yourself, as did Mason.”
George flushed a little, then reached out to briefly touch his son’s arm.
“I am sorry. You are right; I did think the worst and I had no right to. You have changed a lot since that youthful mistake.”
“Was it a mistake?” Christopher replied. “I don’t think it was.”
His eyes moved to the corner of the room, where, lying on an enormous cushion, was the big, shaggy dog who Christopher had rescued from his previous, brutal owner. He was snoring contentedly.
“I don’t think anyone could look at him and consider my actions a mistake,” he said. “I would certainly do the same again.”
His father glanced at the dog and smiled.
“Very well,” he said. “We will do our best. Once the mourning period is over, I hope to persuade the Duchess to take Georgina and Penelope to London for a season. That will keep her occupied and if I escort them, I can be sure she doesn’t go near the hospital.”
“Lord! I sincerely hope to find her long before that.”
“Yes, of course,” said George. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Susan never had a season,” Christopher said. “Perhaps if she had, things would have been different.”
“You know why that was,” George said. “My brother was embarrassed by his disability. He wanted no one to see him.”
“That was selfish and he could have let you and Mother take them.”
“And that would have caused more problems,” Lady Hartleigh said. “Her High and Mighty Duchess would not want her children chaperoned at court by a music teacher, now would she?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Search for Susan
Christopher’s journey to London was fraught to worry. He knew he had not been convincing in the two stories he had told, and he wasn’t sure that either the Duchess or the Earl, his father, believed any of it. The idea that Susan had left him seemed to be more easily accepted than that she was dangerously ill. Perhaps that was because it was true. What he could not reveal was her reason for leaving him.
Somersham was not that far out of London, but even so the coach journey seemed to take forever. He had only ever met David on one or two occasions, didn’t know him well enough to even guess at how he would react to Christopher turning up on his doorstep. He might not tell him anything even if he knew it.
The spires of the Tower in the distance brought a sense of relief to the urgency he had been feeling. They were nearing the city and if the traffic wasn’t too clogged up; he might be there within the hour. Now he had to turn over in his mind his reasons for being there and how to persuade David to help him. If Susan believed Christopher had intended committing her daughter to an orphanage, she would have told David that. If she had, he might not be willing to help him. He might deny ever having seen her.
The remainder of the journey gave him time to curse himself and his actions all over again. Lack of respect, that was wha
t it was. He had thought he knew best, he had not given her the courtesy, the civility of sharing his plans with her. The truth was, he was still angry with her, still thought her a trollop, and just wanted the whole affair behind them, out of their lives. And that affair included the child herself.
And although he hadn’t asked, he realised why he hadn’t asked. He didn’t want to know, that was why. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t told him, at least after she accepted his marriage proposal. He would have thought it would be natural for her to want to explain at least, tell him that she loved this man and made a huge mistake in trusting him. Why hadn’t she? It could only be because he was married. Christopher could think of no other reason, not even that he was a peasant. But if he was married and she knew he was married, that would be something more to be ashamed of. That would be something she had no wish for anyone to know.
If that was the case, he had every right to think of her as he had, to be angry with her. But he was no longer angry, had begun to think of her with more respect. Yet now he had another worry; if he succeeded in finding her, would she ever forgive him?
A short walk down a narrow, cobbled path between buildings, brought Christopher from the bustle of the city to the comparative peace and quiet of Lincoln’s Inn. There were not many people about, just a few barristers with their wigs and gowns, their briefs folded neatly, tied with pink ribbon and held under their arms as they hurried on their way to the Temple and their chambers, or to the law courts.
It all looked very official and not something Christopher had ever really thought about before. David must be very clever to have found a place within this society. He was the youngest son of the Duchess’s brother and as such there was little choice of career, the church or the law.
Christopher knew the address from Susan’s letters. It had never been a secret that she corresponded regularly with David, that they had been good friends since childhood, and she had never been shy at allowing others to read his letters to her and that included Christopher. It was owing to his good memory that he had found his way here.
The staircase was narrow and wooden and led to two dark oak doors on the landing at the top. Both were numbered and Christopher knocked on the one marked ‘number ten’. It was the door marked ‘number nine’ which opened, bringing forth a fair haired young man, who looked as though he had not slept in weeks.
“You are looking for David, I mean for Mr Westerby?” He said.
“I am. Is he not in?”
“He should be back this afternoon,” he answered. “He has been away for the past two months. He’s been articled to a firm of solicitors in Cambridge, so has had to get lodgings up there.”
Christopher stared, his heart sinking.
“He has been away? In Cambridge?”
“Yes. Who shall I tell him called?”
Christopher was about to reply when he decided it would not be wise. He didn’t want to give his name to anyone who might be able to identify him.
“I’ll come back,” he said. “But tell me, please, has there been a young lady here looking for him? A rather lovely, dark haired lady?”
“There was a girl,” the man said. “She had a baby, tried to tell me she was David’s cousin, but it seemed unlikely.”
He smirked lasciviously as he spoke and Christopher could almost read his thoughts. He fought to keep control of that fragile temper. He might well have thought the same under the circumstances.
“You had other ideas, Sir?” He asked.
“Well, when a young woman comes searching for a single man, with a babe in tow, it’s fairly obvious what has gone on.”
“What happened to her?” Christopher demanded angrily. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her David no longer lived here,” the man said with a hint of pride. “I didn’t think he’d want to be found, under the circumstances.”
“So,” Christopher said, “you thought it acceptable for a man to take advantage of a young maid, get her with child and disappear, leaving her to get on with it, to face the condemnation of everyone she knows, as long as that man is a friend of yours? You don’t think such a man should be held accountable?”
“Well, I…”
“Supposing such a maid was your sister? Would you feel the same then?”
The young man drew himself up to his full height, obviously trying to gather his thoughts.
“I would hope my sister would not behave so,” he said. “Is she, in fact, your sister, Sir?”
“No,” Christopher replied. “She is not my sister. What did you tell her?”
“Just that he no longer lived here, that he had found a permanent position in Oxford.”
“Why Oxford?”
The young man grinned, then quickly straightened his mouth when he noticed Christopher’s clenched fists and angry scowl.
“It just came to me,” he said. “You know, Oxford, Cambridge.”
“And you had no qualms about sending her off on a wild goose chase, with a child to care for? You slept well after that, did you? You thought that was a great scheme?”
The young man took one step back and away from Christopher’s obviously rising anger, but was stopped by the wall.
“What is it to you, Sir, if as you say, she is not your sister?”
“Never mind,” Christopher replied. “I shall be back later. Hopefully, David will be here then.”
He made his way down the stairs, wondering where to look now. He had put all his faith in the hope that David would know where she was, but if his neighbour was to be believed, he had never seen her. Where would she have gone? Surely she wouldn’t have taken a coach to Oxford, would she? That would be a long journey and she would have needed overnight stops. She wouldn’t waste the money, would she? Not when she had so little. But who knew? She had no one else to turn to, no one who would not condemn her.
And if he found she was wandering the streets of a strange city, in search of someone who had never been there, he might well be compelled to return to this place and slaughter David’s neighbour with his bare hands.
He found a seat on one of the wooden benches in the square where he could keep an eye on David’s lodgings. He wanted to be sure to see him when he returned, for even if he had not seen Susan, he possibly knew where she might have gone. He knew her friends, he knew other relatives on his side of the family who might have given her shelter. Please God, let David know where she had gone.
***
Oxford? David had gone to Oxford, according to that rather uncivil neighbour of his. Susan knew she could not get to Oxford; she didn’t have the funds and even if she had, she would not know where to begin.
She sat on the bench in the gardens and glanced up at the top floor window of the building where David lived. That neighbour had obviously not believed she was David’s cousin. She could hardly blame him. What must it look like, a young girl with a baby in her arms, searching for the whereabouts of a single man? But he didn’t have to be so damned smug about it, and now what was she going to do?
She had enough for a cheap inn for a few nights and she had passed a jeweller’s shop on her way here, where she might be able to sell her jewels. She finally realised she had given this venture little consideration. When she left the house in Shropshire, her one and only thought had been to keep her baby, to get away from Christopher before he could steal little Alexandra away. It had never once occurred to her that David might not be here, nor that she had no other plan on which to fall back.
David had brothers, but she could not call on them for help. They would send word to her mother, the Duchess, and she would be condemned, exiled from the family, which was precisely what Christopher was trying to avoid when he married her.
She lifted the sleeping baby and gazed lovingly into her beautiful dark blue eyes. She had little recollection of the night she was conceived, but she would never have expected to love a child of his so much.
“What are we going to do now, little Alexis?�
�� She murmured softly. “Whatever happens, you will not be going to any orphan home; I will never let you go, I swear it.”
She gulped back the tears that threatened then picked up the child and her bag and made her way to the jewellery shop. It was getting late and she wanted to get there before it closed.
Thankfully, there were no other customers. She felt embarrassed at being here trying to sell her things, when others would be buying. She never expected to fall so low.
“I’m sorry, Miss,” the owner said abruptly. “I don’t buy without proof of ownership.”
“But these are mine. I swear it.”
“So you say, but it’s not often I come across stones of this quality and if I ever do, they are never brought to me by a young woman. How do I know they are not stolen? What is your name?”
Susan caught back the answer and quickly reformed it in her mind.
“My name is Mrs Lewis,” she said.
“Never heard of you,” said the man rudely. “Why do you want to sell the jewels, if as you say they are yours? Are you running from your husband?”
“Is that a crime?”
He shrugged.
“It might be,” he said. “Whether it is or not, if you have jewels of this value, they must be his and you have no right to sell them.”
Susan was shaking with embarrassment and anger. How dare he speak to her like that? She was Lady Susan Hartleigh, daughter of the Duke of Somersham. But she couldn’t tell him that, could she? Not if she wanted to keep her child.
“These jewels were given to me by my father and were mine long before I married.”
“Don’t matter. Once you marry, everything you own is his. Then there’s the little one. You’ve got no right to deprive your husband of his child.”
Susan gathered up the jewels and shoved them into her purse. She said no more; she couldn’t wait to leave the shop, to get as far away from that horrible, judgmental little man as she could. Outside, she held tight to Alexandra and leaned against the wall to gather her lost dignity. It crossed her mind that if Christopher had been here to witness this, he would have put the man in his place in no uncertain terms.
A Match of Honour (The Hartleighs of Somersham Book 1) Page 8
