The Makeshift Marriage

by Sandra Heath

  She looked at him. “I know that I am not the wife he would have chosen under any other circumstances,” she whispered, “and I know that I cannot ever have his love—but I still did not think he would be cruel enough to say something like that to her, not to her of all people….”

  “Is that what Augustine Townsend told you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you would believe her before you would believe the Nicholas you know?”

  “But I don’t know him, do I? All I really know is that one day in Venice. For that short time he was everything I could have wished, and I did wish it so very much. But I know that he behaved as he did then simply and solely because of what lay ahead of him the next day. I cannot ignore the truth, or delude myself that I mean anything to him, but I still cannot help myself from behaving in this foolish way now.”

  “You aren’t being foolish. Why is it foolish to love and wish to be loved in return? That is human nature; it is what sets us beyond all other creatures.”

  She smiled through her tears. “I am sorry to burden you with all my problems. Your life must have been blessedly uncomplicated before I came into it.”

  “My life was decidedly dull, and you do not burden me at all, I promise you.” He hesitated. He wanted to put their friendship on a more intimate footing, but maybe that would be to force the pace…. “I—I was thinking that it is unnecessarily formal for us to address each other by title when we know each other so well. I would dearly like to have the privilege of calling you by your first name.”

  “My name is Laura.”

  “I know.” He took his handkerchief and brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Never let Augustine Townsend or her ilk even begin to reach you again, Laura, for that way lies inevitable defeat.”

  Neither of them heard the door on to the gallery open softly, and neither of them glanced up to see Augustine Townsend looking secretly down at them.

  Laura spoke again. “I’m so glad that you have such a magical way with words, Daniel, for time and time again you give me strength. Thank you.” She reached up shyly to kiss his cheek, wanting to show by that small gesture how much she appreciated his friendship.

  Augustine watched in delighted silence. She saw the desire written so plainly in Daniel’s dark eyes, and she saw too that the desire was not reciprocated, but that did not matter—a plan stirred in Augustine’s cold, calculating heart. A rumor concerning Laura and the handsome, dashing doctor could only serve to drive a final wedge between Nicholas and his bride…. Stealthily, Augustine left the gallery, but she would have remained had she known what would be said next.

  To hide the effect the kiss had upon him, Daniel changed the subject. “Everything has been put in hand with regard to our plan. You do not need to concern yourself at all, Charles and I have plotted everything most carefully. There is something else which now works to our advantage—Augustine and her mother are also going to Taunton tomorrow.”

  “I know.”

  “One ponders how much of a coincidence that is.” He smiled a little. “However, it serves our purpose in that it removes the Townsend cats from the scene of the crime as well, particularly since Charles is of the opinion that the items which must be sold to meet the moneylender are in Miss Townsend’s possession.”

  “What items?”

  “Some of the Grenville jewelry. Oh, they are no longer fashionable pieces, and Miss Townsend doesn’t wear them, but the precious metals and stones are particularly fine and will fetch a good price. Rest assured that by selling them we do not do anything Nicholas would not do himself, for he told Charles that they must go.”

  “But they are Miss Townsend’s.”

  “No, they are simply in her possession—in a secret cupboard in her room, I believe. They are a fortunate choice for another reason, for it is known that they will have a ready buyer in Flaxton’s, the fashionable Bath jeweler.” He smiled at her. “Everything has been thought of, Laura, all you need do is act your part in front of Nicholas.”

  She nodded. “I pray only that I am up to it.”

  “You are. Just think that by doing all this, elaborate as it may be, we are snatching Nicholas from the duns.”

  “I will.”

  “So, it is all set to commence the moment church is ended tomorrow, when the cats and the rat have departed for whatever it is in Taunton.” He raised her hand to his lips. “No more tears now, Laura.”

  “No more tears.”

  “That’s better.” His lips brushed her skin again, and then he released her fingers.

  * * *

  The hours of the May Eve night ticked slowly away, and Laura lay sleepless in her bed. She awaited the morning with great trepidation. What if the earl did not go to Taunton after all? What if—if—if—if…. She closed her weary eyes, listening to the distant moaning of the wind in the trees. So much was to happen tomorrow. She must face Tobias Claverton’s congregation, the people and landowners of Langford and its surrounding district, people who would hold her in little esteem. She must obtain those jewels and then playact that it was a matter of little importance, when it was in truth of the greatest consequence. And her playacting must be convincing enough to fool Nicholas into believing her, for he must not be worried, especially not if Daniel was to operate in the evening. As if that was not enough, there was the operation itself, with all its attendant dangers and uncertainties….

  There was a stealthy sound at her door and her eyes flew open as she distinctly heard something rustling. A cold fear touched her as she slowly sat up, staring across the shadowy room toward the door. Who was it? Why were they so furtive? Light footsteps receded and gradually silence returned. Her heart was still pounding as she slipped from the bed and went to the door. The passage was deserted and the house silent. Then something made her look down, and she saw the small branches of spring foliage lying there. Elder and walnut, their leaves barely unfurled.

  Still shaking, she stooped to pick them up. The May birchers had left their condemning mark, the elder for dislike and unpopularity—but what did the walnut signify? The unmistakable smell of the elder pricked her nostrils, but it was unpleasant now where once she had found it attractive. In her imagination she could hear those light footsteps again, and she knew to whom they belonged. This was not the work of the May birchers; it was the hand of Augustine Townsend.

  Still holding the branches, she retreated into her room, closing the door. Then she hurried to the open window, thrusting the greenery out into the blackness of the moonless night. She did not hear them fall on the gravel drive far below.

  Chapter 21

  Laura dressed slowly for church the next morning, hoping that by delaying her departure she would avoid encountering Augustine and her mother, who had already announced that they intended driving to Langford alone. Augustine had made a great fuss earlier about discovering a wonderfully complimentary bunch of greenery outside her door. Lime, hawthorn, and pear, she had cried delightedly, although her pleasure was dampened a little by Laura’s silence concerning her own leaves. That Augustine had placed the leaves outside her own door too, Laura had no doubt, and she wished now that she had had the forethought to find a twig of gorse to lay at Augustine’s door. Yes, that would have been a sweet revenge, for gorse would suggest that the occupant of the room was of doubtful character. However, she had not thought of it in time and Augustine’s spite had gone woefully unchallenged.

  Kitty dressed her mistress in silence. The maid had discovered a telltale elder leaf by the window, and on looking out had seen the discarded branches far below. Elder and walnut. The maid said nothing, for she knew well enough the meaning of those particular trees. The elder condemned Laura, and the walnut proclaimed her a whore. Kitty’s hands shook, for she had that very morning heard from Betsy May Jenkins, Miss Townsend’s maid, the rumors about Lady Grenville and Dr. Tregarron. And it was true that they spent a lot of time together, and that they were very friendly, but Kitty did not believe that her mistress was unfai
thful to Sir Nicholas, and she had firmly told Betsy May as much. Betsy May refused to speak to her now.

  The rumor had not fallen on stony ground entirely, however, for there were many servants at King’s Cliff who had reason to fear that the changes planned for the estate would mean the loss of their livelihoods, and those servants had little reason to like Laura or to wish to protect her good name. Kitty had not worked for Laura for long, but in that short time she had come to love her sad, beautiful mistress, and it made the little maid unhappy to think that someone had been unkind enough to place those leaves at her door.

  Laura’s thoughts at that moment were not of the leaves, however, for although they had not been forgotten, they were of secondary importance. Today was so very crucial, and the tasks to be accomplished and ordeals to be got through seemed legion. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She had chosen to wear the same clothes she had worn on leaving the Hotel Contarini, her caped lilac wool pelisse and green satin bonnet. On the first day of March she had commenced her visit to Venice, and on the first day of April she had left again. Now it was the first day of May, two months exactly since she had first met Nicholas Grenville. Oh, how very, very much had happened to her life in that short, fateful period. The guidebook lay before her on the dressing table, and she picked it up. The pressed flowers fell out and Kitty immediately retrieved them.

  “How lovely they are, my lady.”

  “Yes.”

  “I know flowers, for my father is a gardener, but I don’t recognize these.”

  “The red ones are anemones, the pink ones wild cyclamen.”

  “Why have you kept them?”

  Laura gazed at the flowers. “Sir Nicholas bought me a posy of the anemones in Venice, and the cyclamen I carried when I married him.”

  Kitty glanced sadly at her before carefully replacing the flowers in the guidebook. Laura stood, picking up her prayerbook.

  “Kitty, what is the meaning of walnut as far as May birchers are concerned?”

  “I don’t really like to say, my lady.” Kitty flushed uncomfortably.

  “Tell me, for I wish to know.”

  “They are only left outside a woman’s door, my lady, and they accuse her of—of being a harlot.”

  Laura flinched. “I see.”

  “No one takes any notice of it,” said Kitty, but she knew that she did not sound at all convincing. People did take notice of what the birchers said, and there was no getting away from that fact.

  Laura managed a thin smile before leaving the room. Oh, Augustine had done her unpleasant work very well indeed, but at least she wouldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing how deep her action had struck into Laura’s defenses.

  She hurried along to Nicholas’s room, wanting to see him before she left, and praying that Augustine had already departed for church. Daniel was there, putting the final touches to a fresh dressing on the wound. As yet the laudanum still pervaded Nicholas, and there was little change in him. The pain was dulled, but so were his senses, and his voice still lacked any strength. He looked up at Daniel as he worked deftly with the bandages. “I shall be glad when this operation is done, my friend.”

  “And so will I, my friend.”

  “Damned quack.”

  Daniel grinned. “That remark will cost you dearly when I present my fees.”

  “Damned expensive quack.” Nicholas’s eyes moved slowly to Laura, and he smiled a little as he recognized the clothes she wore. “Venice,” he murmured, raising his hand a little. She took it, and returned the smile.

  “Do I look well enough for Langford church?” she asked.

  “Too good.”

  Daniel straightened. “There, you are tidy for the rest of the day, Nicholas. Be prepared for a great deal of pain when the laudanum leaves you, but I do not feel able to approach this operation in any other way.”

  Nicholas nodded. “I know.”

  “By this time tomorrow it will all be over.”

  “Keep a steady hand, quack, or I swear I’ll return to haunt you.”

  “That I am quite prepared to believe.” Daniel glanced at his fob watch. “I fear it is time to go and weather Tobias Claverton.”

  “Thank God I’m ill,” murmured Nicholas with some feeling.

  Laura put his hand gently back on the coverlet, and left with Daniel. She glanced sideways at him as they descended the sweeping staircase. He looked very handsome in a dark gray coat and pale gray trousers. His taste was impeccable, from his blue brocade waistcoat and frilled shirt to his formal cravat, which was very excellent and complicated. He looked every inch a gentleman of fashion and quality, and was most certainly a man to turn many a woman’s head. She wondered how many fronds of willow had been placed at his door this year.

  Hawkins flung the doors open for them and they stepped out beneath the portico. May garlands had been put on the outside of the doors, and their gaily colored ribbons fluttered in the light breeze. The garlands were composed of the brightest spring flowers, cowslips, wallflowers, tulips, and even some early roses that had been found blooming in a sheltered part of the walled garden.

  Daniel looked at the garlands. “Miss Townsend was vastly pleased with the birchers work during the night.”

  “She birched all by herself,” retorted Laura acidly.

  A landau waited at the foot of the steps, and Daniel handed her in, sitting next to her. As the carriage drew away, however, Laura’s apprehensions returned, for this would be the first time she had ventured away from King’s Cliff land, the first time she would have to face neighboring landowners and the people of Langford, none of whom would view her with any friendliness.

  Daniel drew her hand through his arm reassuringly. “Be easy now, for none of them will dare to actually bite you.”

  She smiled. “No, but they will certainly scrutinize me from head to toe.”

  “If they do they will find only perfection.” He paused a moment. “Laura, I am afraid that I have to tell you of a slight obstacle in the way of our obtaining the jewels on our return from church.”

  “Difficulty?” she asked quickly, “What is it?”

  “Only that unfortunately for us, Miss Townsend’s garrulous maid, Betsy May Jenkins, is not to depart at the same time as her mistress, but will leave later. It could be that the wretched girl will remain in her mistress’s rooms and that will make it very difficult for us to remove the jewels without being discovered. The last thing we want is publicity concerning our actions, for the more stealthily we achieve our aims, the better.”

  “Wouldn’t it be even better to wait until the maid has gone too?”

  “Time is of the essence, Laura, for we do not know the duration of the earl’s stay in Taunton. Everything should be over and done with before he returns, for that way he will not be able to do anything about it. In my opinion Charles Dodswell must be well on his way to Bath by tonight.”

  Tonight. Fleetingly she thought of the operation, and the dangers to which Nicholas would be exposed.

  Daniel read her thoughts. “Everything will be all right, Laura, I promise you.”

  “You can only promise to do what you can, Daniel; you cannot promise to keep him safe.” She looked at him. “What are you going to do about the maid?” she asked, returning to the previous subject.

  “Ah, well, I have thought of a way of occupying her time.”

  “Daniel Tregarron!”

  “Oh, not personally,” he protested with a laugh. “I had rather thought that Henderson was the man for the task.”

  “Henderson?”

  “He may not be an oil painting, Laura, but as Nicholas’s valet he is a fellow of some importance belowstairs. A good many of the maids would be only too pleased to lord it over the others by walking out with him. Anyway, Henderson has undertaken to do what he can to distract young Betsy May while we remove the jewels.”

  The landau turned out of the King’s Cliff gates and drove east toward Langford. The Somerset hills rolled down to the fla
t valley where the River Parrett cut through them from Sedgemoor. The river flowed westward toward the sea, wending its way across the marsh, and Langford town nestled on its banks, the main street stretching up the gentle slope toward the tall spire of the church, crowning the hilltop. The river was wide and shallow at this point, and it was spanned by an impressive stone bridge with four arches.

  The coach descended toward the bridge, and Daniel frowned. “This fool of a coachman goes too fast.” The landau swayed alarmingly over the bridge and Laura caught a fleeting glimpse of the long, green weeds waving to and fro in the clear water, and then the wheels were on cobbles as the team strained up the hill toward the church. Laura could hear the bell ringing as it summoned everyone to morning service, but there was another, more jarring sound, which vied with the bell.

  “What is that?”

  “May horns. Cow horns, to be precise.”

  “What a dreadful noise.”

  “It is the children; they always blow the horns on May morning. It is a tradition in Langford. They start at daybreak and go on all day, if they have the wind, which they usually do.”

  She smiled, gazing out of the window at the passing houses. There were May garlands on most of the doors, and sometimes she saw evidence of the May birchers activities. The church stood at the side of a square, in the center of which stood the maypole, painted in red and white stripes like a barber’s pole. Ribbons twined with spring flowers hung from it in readiness for the dancing, but as yet there was no one by it, for it seemed that most of the township was gathered by the church gates, waiting for their first glimpse of the already notorious Lady Grenville.