As he and Cordelia had sat silently for some moments at the end of the reading, it rather seemed as if they were both coming to terms with something that had been revealed to them and, in each case, it rather seemed to be a very different thing.
Chapter Seven
“I have hardly been able to stop thinking about the thing since yesterday, Philip. In truth, I have hardly slept and feel myself most dreadfully exhausted.” When Philip had lifted Cordelia from her horse the next morning, she felt so tired that she quite literally sagged against him.
“I am here, Cordelia, and you must lean on me. I shall keep you going throughout this dreadful revelation. I truly wish that things had been different, my dear Cordelia. How very let down you must feel by my family and by the true character of the ghost of my Aunt Verity.” Philip had looked at her with a certain shame in his countenance that Cordelia could hardly bear.
“Oh, my dear Philip, that is not it at all,” Cordelia said, reaching out to take his hand as he led her to the rock that had become their customary seating place. “In truth, there is something other in this which most unsettles me.”
“Something other than my ancestor’s betrayal?”
“I hardly know how to explain it, Philip, but I know my mother so very well. Throughout my entire life, I have never seen her complete a single selfless act, nor have I ever perceived any amount of pity for the plight of another, no matter what that plight nor how roughly the person might suffer. In truth, I simply know that my mother is not capable of the sort of feelings which my father described in that last entry. She is, quite truthfully, not a woman who would break down at the idea that a good man had been betrayed. There is something so very wrong with the picture that my father paints, and I cannot help thinking that by the time we are at the end of it all, quite another shall have been painted altogether.”
“Whatever happens in all of this, Cordelia, we must stand firm at each other’s side. We must not fall into the trap of finding sympathy with any of the characters in this book,” he said, reaching out to tap the book which laid closed on her lap. “We must find sympathy only with each other; otherwise, we simply fall into the ways of the past and live by them, just as our families have done these last three decades.”
“How wonderful it is to hear your words. They are most reassuring to me, Philip, and they have given me the heart to go on. For, in truth, I had much decided on my ride over here this morning that I should tell you that we could not continue to read my father’s diaries.”
“But we must, Cordelia. In truth, we must,” Philip said, quite vehemently.
“Philip?” Cordelia said, knowing from his tone that there was something more to be said. “Whatever it is, you must tell me. You must not hide things from me, Philip, for I shall worry all the more.”
“How very perceptive of you, my love, to have seen my disquiet,” he said as he turned to reach out and lay a hand on her cheek. “There is much I must tell you and yet much you must, at this moment, keep within yourself. Do you understand?”
“I understand entirely, Philip. You have a secret to tell me, and it is one which I must keep for the time being.”
“You have it most exactly.”
“Then tell me, for I promise.”
“I do not know if you are aware of the thing or not, but your brother Richard has much interest in sinking a copper mine that likely extends below ground onto my own family’s lands.”
“I have heard vague talk of a copper mine, Philip, but as for the rest, I did not know. Surely if the mine would drift under the lands of your own family, then it must belong, in part, to the Farringtons, must it not?”
“It does not quite work in that way, Cordelia. It is more a matter of possession, or rather first possession, which is of importance in a case such as this. In essence, whoever sinks the mine correctly owns the rights to whatever they find there, however far it might extend and regardless of whose land it stretches beneath.”
“So, my brother intends to cheat your family,” Cordelia said, feeling a little ashamed, despite never having known the facts of the case.
“And my brothers intend to cheat your family also. You see, from the moment they have got wind of the thing, they have been acting secretly themselves. They have dropped down into a little entrance into the earth which is, in truth, on your own lands. And they have made a survey of the thing quite secretly in order to establish the very best place on our own land to sink the mine quite before your brother has had a chance to do so.”
“In truth, I do not know who is right and who is wrong in this,” Cordelia said, feeling suddenly desolate as if there would never be an end to the feud nor any chance of happiness for her and the man she loved.
“They are neither of them right, Cordelia. That is the whole point. Neither one of them needs the money, do they? It is simply the victory they want, each of them desperate for the chance to rub the face of the other in the dirt. And only we can stop them, Cordelia. We must carry on until the end; do you not see it?”
“Yes, I do see it.”
“Then we must read on, and we must make progress. I feel we have but days to find the truth and have any hopes of ending this feud. If my family sinks this mine successfully, then there will be nothing that you and I can ever say, nor any truth your father might posthumously give, that will put things to rights.”
“Good Lord, that is the truth,” Cordelia said, her heart beating faster and her mouth a little dry.
Wasting no more time, Cordelia opened the book to where last they had read and hurriedly leafed through the pages of things which seemed to be of little or no importance. Finally, she alighted upon a passage of great interest.
“20th July 1797.
As the weeks have passed, in truth, still I can find no true peace. I have tried in vain to rid my mind of thoughts of Verity, and I cannot. When visions of her come to me, I try to turn them to that last dreadful day, our last dreadful meeting. In truth, that is how I should like to remember her, crying as she lied to me about all that had happened. I can only think of her in that way and yet still carry on. If I allow myself to think of what came before, then I am lost. I am trapped in memories and hopes and the deepest of love that I cannot shake.
Oh, but that last meeting was dreadful. When I confronted Verity with all that Prudence had told me, she sprang instantly to tears. I could hardly believe how well she had acted the thing and how convincing she had almost been. And yet, had I not once seen her in the company of the Earl of Payton with my own eyes? Had I not seen them once talk at length at an afternoon buffet? And yet, on that day, I had thought it nothing more than a simple conversation between acquaintances. What a fool I had been!
Verity had cried and cried and sworn to me that she was pure. She could not believe that I was accusing her of lying with another man, and she even claimed that my accusation of her betrayal of me was quite the worst thing she had ever suffered. In that moment, my heart hardened. She had sought to make a fool of me and, even in the face of the truth, yet still, she lied. It was then that I cast her from me. I ordered her from my home and told her that I would never willingly set eyes upon her again.
And that was the day upon which my fate became truly sealed. I had been so lost, so bereft, that I could hardly imagine how I would live out the rest of my life. Then, as fortuitous as it had seemed to me on that day, Prudence Littlefair appeared at my home. She had wondered how I had fared of late and sought to find out. Little could she have known of the dreadful encounter which had taken place that very morning and yet, despite my dreadful aspect for the remainder of the afternoon, she had never once left my side. As rough as my behaviour was, still Prudence remained steadfast.
She had consoled me as I had never expected to be consoled. In the end, she had chosen to give me everything that she had to give, and I could hardly believe that she and I had ended up by lying together as a husband and wife might in the confines of my private study.
Of course, once
a thing like that is done, it is an easy thing to fall into as a habit and enjoy its pleasures time and again.
In the end, quite rightly, I felt myself deeply ashamed of how I had used Prudence Littlefair for week upon week simply to attempt to purge the image of Verity Farrington from my mind and my heart. And yet, every time I lay with Prudence, I thought of Verity. I could not enjoy a moment with Prudence without closing my eyes and imagining that it was Verity whom I embraced. In truth, my own imagined betrayal of Prudence had brought me the most terrible shame.
And now, Prudence Littlefair is with child. There is no course of action left open to me but to marry the woman, for I cannot cast her aside now. In as much as I know I shall never love her, I cannot abandon her in such a condition. I most especially cannot abandon her when it was she, above all people, who had lost so much of her own in order that she might spare me a life of humiliation.
As I write these lines, my marriage is all but set, and due to take place not days from now. I feel the weight of my responsibility heavy upon my shoulders and, when I think of the life that I must now lead, I feel myself most dreadfully trapped. And yet, it is a trap of my own making. If only I had never lain with her, then I should not be tied to her forevermore.
My sorrow for myself and my guilt and shame at my treatment of Prudence leaves me with so low a feeling that I rather wish I could close my eyes and simply cease to exist. And, above all things, when I take my vows on that dreadful day, I shall do it knowing that I will only ever love one woman in this world. I will only ever love Verity Farrington.”
By the time Cordelia had finished reading the passage, the tears were falling one after the other down her beautiful face.
She had never felt so truly terrible in all her life and could hardly arrange the true cause of her heartbreak in her mind. In truth, Cordelia knew that she did love her mother if only a little. The fact that her mother had been married to a man who had never loved her in all those years made Cordelia feel most terribly sad.
And, at the same time, Cordelia despised her mother. She knew in her heart that Prudence Cunningham was not a woman to have been trusted and, all those years ago when she had been but a young woman, it was likely that things had been little different. Cordelia could not help feeling that, undoubtedly, her mother had played a great part in all of this, and it was down to Cordelia herself to have the bravery to continue to look for the truth, however awful it might be.
Chapter Eight
As Cordelia rode over the following morning to meet Philip at the stream, she found herself feeling a little stronger. An encounter with her mother the day before had entirely restored her resolve to have the thing done and the truth uncovered.
“Tell me, Cordelia, when is it that you go in the mornings?” Prudence Cunningham, her face a dreadful pasty white against red hair so faded it looked almost peach in colour, almost seemed to bear down on her daughter.
In truth, Prudence had never shared the same closeness with Cordelia that she had shared with Eleonora, and Cordelia was very aware of the fact that she was rather a disappointment to her mother.
Prudence Cunningham did not suffer fools gladly, and she truly thought her youngest daughter to be a fool indeed. For Cordelia was interested in light and love and laughter, and she spent much of her time in learning, the enjoyment she gleaned from such activities obvious.
When her mother and sister talked gleefully of the misfortunes of others or spitefully when somebody else in the world had succeeded, Cordelia had never truly been able to join in. As such, it had rather set her apart and ensured that she would never find a place in her mother’s heart the way that her elder sister had done.
“I simply enjoy the early mornings, Mother. I cannot lie abed and see them wasted.”
“How very virtuous, my dear. And yet, somehow, a little unbelievable.”
“As my mother, you ought to know me well enough to know which seasons I enjoy best, and have you not always known me to be an early riser?”
“Indeed, I have known it, but I have watched you, morning after morning from my chamber window, setting off with an air of purpose about you. Tell me, who is it that you meet?”
“Why on earth should you think I am meeting somebody, Mother?” Cordelia’s heart had begun to pound; surely her mother did not know?
“You are secretive, and you keep much to yourself these days. As far as I am concerned, that can mean only one thing. You are meeting somebody, and it is somebody you do not wish the rest of us to know about. Therefore, I can only conclude that you are meeting with a young man.”
“Is that so, Mother?” Cordelia said, feeling a little anger begin to boil within her.
“And a woman who meets with a man entirely unchaperoned could only truly be described in one way, do you not think?” To be sneered at and insulted so by her own mother was far less painful than Cordelia could ever have imagined.
In truth, it rather excited a sense of injustice within her, particularly when she had read of her own mother’s behaviour in diary entries made decades before. It took a great deal for Cordelia to hold back all that she knew for, at that moment, she had wanted nothing more than to metaphorically slap her mother about the face with all that she had discovered.
“What I think, Mother is that you are intent upon behaving in a cruel and insulting manner, much as you always are. I should be a fool indeed to allow my spirits to be darkened by your own poor intentions, should I not?” And with that, Cordelia had marched past her mother and up the stairs, determining to keep to her own chamber for the rest of the day.
“Good morning, my love,” Philip said as he reached up to take her around the waist and lift her down from her horse. “I could not sleep last night for thoughts of you,” he said and immediately took her face into his hands and drew her towards him for a passionate kiss.
“How very nice a greeting, Philip,” Cordelia said when, finally, they broke their embrace. “And unfortunately, the very thing that my mother suspects me of. Well, in truth, I rather think she suspects me of a great deal more.”
“My dear, what has happened?”
Cordelia gave Philip an account of her conversation with her mother and, seeing the look of horror on his face, realised that she had never before given him any information about Prudence that would tend to suggest what a truly dreadful mother she was. Where she found her mother’s cruelty rather commonplace, Philip Farrington had been shocked and disgusted. Doubtless, his own mother was a very different sort of a woman, and Cordelia could not help hoping that she would one day find that out for herself.
“Well, it is clear that we must work hard this morning. Not only do we have to stop my own family in the sinking of that mine, but we have to guard against your mother keeping you to the house and the two of us apart,” Philip said, his pale blue eyes so earnest. “Come, you must read.”
“2nd August 1797.
I had known that this day, the day of my marriage to Prudence Littlefair, would rank among the worst in my life. In truth, as God is my witness, I could never have known quite how awful it would truly be. And yet it is not simply that I am now married to Prudence that is the cause of my desolation.
Not two hours after I had spoken the dreadful vows I found that my life was to be far worse than ever I could have imagined it to be.
With my vows spoken and the celebrations underway, I received a most unexpected guest at the wedding feast. Striding clear past my footmen, my old friend, Wentworth Farrington, came charging towards me as if from nowhere, his face full of an agony I could never have imagined it could hold.
In truth, I rather thought it was the simple anger of a brother who thought his sister to have been dreadfully wronged. After all, I had never given him the reason for breaking my engagement with Verity, not wanting my old friend to have to suffer the indignities of hearing how very low his sister had fallen. As he charged towards me, I could only think that he was angry at his sister’s tears as she sat at home sobbing as
the man she had once been intended to marry was, at that moment, in church marrying another.
“What a thing to see you here and celebrating this day, you dreadful, evil man,” Wentworth had shouted at the top of his voice, and all present fell silent. It appeared as if not one in attendance knew quite what to do and, as a result, everybody simply remained as still as statues, watching silently, their faces full of the most dreadful curiosity.
“You do not know enough of the thing to be able to declare me evil, Wentworth. In truth, I wish I could tell it all to you, but I cannot,” I said, feeling how dreadfully my life had run away from me.
As I looked upon the face of my former friend, I realised that I had missed him most dreadfully. From the moment that I had broken my engagement with his sister, Wentworth and I had never been in company again. It was not until I saw him that day that I realised that my loss was most complete. I had lost my finest friend, and there would be no way to recover that friendship without telling him the awful truth. And yet I loved him like a brother and could do no such thing, whatever the circumstance.
“I can proclaim you to be the most evil of men, Cornelius Cunningham since I have the proof of it in my very own home.” Wentworth’s face was at one moment gray and the next scarlet. He seemed to be somehow oscillating between sickness and anger, not quite being able to settle on one or the other.
“In truth, Wentworth, I do not know of what you speak,” I said, little knowing what else to say. In truth, I felt I knew for sure. I felt that my dear friend had lately come from Calgarth Hall unable to bear the sight of his sobbing sister any longer. And yet, if Verity’s heart was broken on that day, then so was mine. And if we were both so very raw, then there was only one person to blame for it all. Verity Farrington herself.
Regency Romance Collection: Regency Fire: The Historical Regency Romance Complete Series (Books 1-5) Page 30
