The Makeshift Marriage

by Sandra Heath

  Her hair was snatched from its pins, but she did not care. Nor did she care that her progress had been witnessed not only by the visiting servants but also by the shocked ladies from the windows of the red saloon. Such was the tumult of emotion released in her now that she thought only of escape into some sort of oblivion for a while. The woods were cool and fresh, and the leaves so thick overhead that the sunlight did not penetrate them. On and on she rode, going further than she had ever ridden before, and at last she allowed the sweating horse to slacken its pace.

  She looked around to find herself in a clearing she did not know, and slowly she dismounted, dropping the reins and leaning her forehead against the horse’s damp neck for a moment. Nearby there was a mossy bank, a secret place overhung with low, protecting sycamores. She sat down on the soft moss, drawing her knees up and bowing her face as she allowed the tears to come at last. They were tears of rage and humiliation, of frustration and unhappiness, and beyond them the ever-present tears caused by her hopeless love for Nicholas Grenville.

  A bird fluttered in a tree, the horse’s ears twitched nervously to and fro, and then a jay burst chattering from the branches, dipping so low in flight that it almost touched the horse. Startled, the horse’s head came sharply up and in a moment it was gone, bolting into the relative security of the woods and leaving Laura lost and alone.

  She closed her eyes in misery, for now her day was complete. Having flown defiantly in the face of criticism and propriety, she would now be reduced to walking ignominiously back to King’s Cliff and the undoubted storm that awaited her, for by now Nicholas would have been informed of his wife’s disgraceful conduct in polite society.

  Someone was calling her nearby. “Laura?” It was a man.

  Horrified, she searched for her handkerchief, but she could not lift her eyes to look at him. “How could any woman be indifferent to you, least of all me, for I have reason to be so grateful to you.”

  “I don’t want your damned gratitude!”

  “I know. I also know that what I feel for you cannot be compared with the feeling I have for the man who is my husband. I am being honest with you, Daniel. I find you very attractive, both as a man and as a friend, and it would not be at all displeasing to have you make love to me.”

  “Then let me make love to you,” he whispered, his eyes warm and dark as he pushed her gently back on the moss, leaning over her, his lips only inches from hers. “Let me love you as I know you were meant to be loved, my dearest Laura, my love….”

  She closed her eyes as he kissed her, but the darkness only brought Nicholas to her. It was Nicholas she held in that moment, and it would always be Nicholas. She pressed her hands against Daniel’s chest. “No,” she said, gently but firmly. “No, Daniel, for it is wrong, both to myself and most of all to you. You would always be second, all the time, and in the end you would not be able to accept that. So I will not let it happen; I will not give in to feelings which I admit to be there when you kiss me. It would be so easy now to turn to you, for that way I would salve my pride and would know the sweetness of being desired, but you deserve better than that, Daniel. Much better.”

  Do I deserve better? Do I deserve anything at all for the way I have conducted myself of late? I have allowed lie and innuendo to thrust between you and Nicholas when I could have prevented it…. He looked down into her lovely, flushed face, and saw that her love for Nicholas was unshakable. Gentle wooing and the burning desire of his own love would not win her; it would take a moment of the deepest hurt to her, an undeniable realization that she was once and for all rejected by the man she loved. That moment had not come yet, but it would, and then she would turn to the love Daniel Tregarron offered, to the love she already half acknowledged and he had tasted in her kiss.

  “I will pursue you, Laura,” he said softly, “and in the end I will have you.” He bent his head to kiss her again.

  “No, you will not.”

  “I will not accept your answer.”

  “You must.”

  Their eyes met for a moment more and then he stood, holding out his hand to her. “When I leave for America, Laura, you will be at my side, and if you could see but clearly for a moment, you would know that that is the way it must be. He doesn’t want you and he makes it daily more plain to you. You suffer pain and hurt—that pain and hurt would be chaff in the wind were you to look closely at your life. Your future happiness lies with me, not with Nicholas Grenville.” He smiled a little. “And now I think perhaps it is time I conveyed you back to that place you think is your home.” His hands were warm on her waist as he lifted her on to the horse. Then he mounted behind her, his arm steadying her as he kicked his heels and the horse moved swiftly away from the clearing.

  * * *

  From her window later that day, Laura saw Augustine and her mother at last saying farewell to their guests. Her return to the house had, to her mortification, been closely remarked. But it could not be helped; she had been seen riding before Daniel, her hair tumbling carelessly about her shoulders, her ankles once again revealed and her underskirts catching on the shining leather of his boots. She must have looked very immodest, and her conduct could only be construed as improper. As she had taken her leave of him at the main steps, she had known that her face was crimson with embarrassment, but there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. No doubt the good ladies of Somerset had picked the bones of her shaky reputation, leaving not a morsel of flesh upon the poor skeleton.

  She turned from the window and sat before the dressing table. Kitty picked up the brush and the bristles made the dark curls crackle pleasingly. Laura glanced up at the maid’s pale face. “Kitty, I have decided that when the auction is done, and if it goes well, then I will ask Sir Nicholas if he will take your father on here again.”

  The maid’s eyes brightened hopefully. “You would do that, my lady?”

  “You know that I will, both for your sake and for your father’s. I will not easily forget that bouquet of tulips.”

  The clock struck three, and Laura bit her lip. She had been back in the house for several hours now, and she had known all that time that Nicholas wished to see her, but she had refused to go. Until now.

  Kitty tied her hair back with a red ribbon and Laura stood. “How do I look?”

  “Lovely, my lady.”

  Laura smiled. “Do I look ready for battle, that is the question?”

  Kitty said nothing and Laura did not expect her to.

  He was by the window of his room, leaning against the opened shutter. He turned as she entered, and she saw immediately that he had to put a hand on a chair to steady himself. He was very weak still and she could see by his face that he found every effort tiring.

  “You wished to see me?” she asked, facing him, her attitude one of defiance still.

  “How good of you to eventually deign to come.”

  “I saw no reason to rush to hear myself criticized.”

  A light passed through his eyes. “Indeed? And what makes you think I am bent solely on criticism?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “No, Laura, I am not. That I have some criticisms is natural enough, under the circumstances, but that is not all I wish to say to you. Why did you behave as you did in the red saloon?”

  “Hasn’t Miss Townsend informed you?” she asked acidly.

  “I want your explanation, Laura.”

  “Very well. I did not take kindly to being toyed with by those human felines. I am not a mouse to cower before them, not even before an arch tabby like the Countess of Bawton. I would behave as I did again, if forced as I was today. I must remind you that I asked you to free me from that so-called duty, but you refused. I did what you demanded of me, Nicholas, but I gave no promise as to how I would conduct myself. I will not abase myself, not for you or for anyone else.”

  “That much I gather, madam. I am fully aware of how the situation went, but not only from Augustine, whose account I will admit was bound to be colored ag
ainst you. I know what happened, and was interested to know exactly what prompted your reaction. Now that I know, I will apologize to you for having, as you say, forced a situation upon you which went against your every grain.”

  “You—you apologize?” She stared at him.

  “For that one thing, yes.”

  “But now we come to the criticisms?”

  “You surely cannot expect me to condone your every action today?”

  She lowered her eyes then, unable to reply.

  “To begin with there is the matter of your riding out like a hoyden, in full view of the most inquisitive eyes in the county!”

  “It once pleased you well enough to have me ride like a hoyden, Nicholas Grenville. I do not recall you finding fault on the Lido in Venice.”

  “I do not need reminding,” he said quietly, “for I doubt that I will ever forget that day. But it is in the past now, never more so, and you are in England, madam. A certain standard of behavior is expected, and from what I understand of today, you most certainly do not meet that standard. I forbid you to ride again until you have acquired a riding habit, is that quite clear?”

  “Yes.” She looked rebelliously at him.

  “Don’t think to defy me,” he warned, “for you are my wife and—”

  “And you are my husband!” she cried. “But it pleases you to forget that.”

  His face paled. “Which brings me inexorably to my next point. I forbid you to have anything to do with Daniel Tregarron. Absolutely and finally.”

  “Because you dislike him?”

  “Because your conduct with him has given rise to rumors which touch my honour, madam!”

  “And what of your conduct with Miss Augustine Townsend? What of my honor?”

  “What I do has nothing to do with this, Laura. I do not forget that you are my wife, whatever you may choose to think, and so I order you to sever all contact with Tregarron. I want your word, Laura.”

  She pressed her lips firmly together and did not answer.

  “Your word, Laura.”

  “Very well.” She looked reproachfully at him. “And I am mindful of my word given as your wife, Nicholas. But when I look into your eyes I do not see that I can expect the same from you. I promised that I would do all I could for this estate, and I still stand by that promise. In return you deny me any kindness, and you separate me from the one friendship I have enjoyed since coming to this house. That ours is a marriage of convenience cannot be denied, but I do not deserve to be made so obviously a temporary and unwanted bride. You sarcastically reminded me yesterday that I was your wife for better or for worse. Where is the better, Nicholas? All I have known is the worse.” Her eyes were bright as she turned to go, and she did not see the hand he put out to her. But he could not call her back. He heard her light, hurrying steps recede along the passage.

  He bowed his head, his eyes closed momentarily. He could not say her name because he was silenced by his knowledge of her love for Daniel Tregarron.

  Chapter 32

  The day of the auction dawned to the sound of hammering as the auctioneers’ laborers prepared a suitable stand from which to conduct the momentous occasion. The constant and unexpected noise excited the hounds, and they yelped and whined, occasionally breaking into a fuller cry as they milled around in their confined space. Sleep was impossible in the house and Laura sat in her window, watching.

  Tendrils of mist still clung beneath the trees as the men from Christie’s supervised the work. Some heavy wagons were drawn up on the grass and men carried planks of wood to the platform which was rising beneath a large, overhanging oak. The sun had risen slowly in the east, blurred by the haze of moisture in the cool air, but she knew that the day would be fine and warm—perfect for the business to be conducted at King’s Cliff, business that was spoken of the length and breadth of the land.

  Kitty thoughtfully provided her mistress with a dish of tea, guessing that the noise would have disturbed her sleep. It was good to sit on the window ledge, just watching, and wondering how the day’s proceedings would go. Interest was at a fever pitch, and the neighboring landlords and farmers would come if only to see what happened. The Earl of Langford, however, would stay away, for he had made his anger and disapproval common knowledge. She sipped the tea. Yes, everyone would come, but would they dare to flout the earl by making bids? He was a force to be reckoned with, and she could only pray that the notices in the newspapers would attract interested parties from beyond Somerset.

  As she watched she saw a woman on horseback riding slowly across the park. It was Augustine; Laura recognized her distinctive maroon riding habit. Laura watched her for a moment and then put down her tea. “Kitty, I believe that I shall christen my new riding habit.”

  “Now, my lady? Before breakfast?”

  “Yes.”

  The maid hurried to bring the new garment from the dressing room, and Laura pulled a face. It was a disagreeable garment, disagreeably washy in color, being somewhere between gray and sage, and the haste with which a barely adequate Langford dressmaker had put it together was only too evident in its lack of grace or style. It would never even remotely match Augustine’s for excellence, but it was all Laura had, and it did at least make her look proper. It would also allow her out of the house for a while. For once, Laura admitted to herself, Augustine Townsend had had a good idea, an early-morning ride would be just the thing.

  * * *

  She rode the same mare she had ridden when accompanying Mr. Dodswell and Mr. McDonald, and she confined her ride this time to well-remembered parts of the estate—the edge of Langford Woods, the escarpment, and the outer limits of the Home Farm.

  She was on her way back, riding slowly up the escarpment a little to the north of the Townsend monument, when she saw Augustine waiting. Augustine could not see her, for a thin scattering of trees hid her, but there was something about the figure in maroon that made Laura halt. Augustine looked for all the world as if she was waiting for someone.

  Curiosity got the better of Laura and she dismounted, leading her mount slowly through the sheltering trees until she was reasonably close. She saw the pinnacle of the monument stretching up into the heavens and heard the grass rustle over the hillside. She saw the feather in Augustine’s black beaver hat flutter, her formal skirts flapping around her long legs, and the impatient way Augustine tapped her riding crop against the foot or the monument and glanced frequently at her fob watch.

  Hoofbeats sounded at last, and Laura parted the leaves of a bush to watch as the Earl of Langford urged his black horse up the hillside toward the monument. For a moment she was afraid that he might see her, but the bush hid her and anyway he did not even glance in her direction, They were so close that she heard his leather saddle squeak as he dismounted. Laura’s eyes widened immediately with surprise and distaste as he took Augustine in his arms and kissed her. Augustine submitted, there being no other way to describe her limp acquiescence as she allowed him to embrace her.

  “Jesu, Augustine, I have missed you,” he said, his voice carrying quite clearly to Laura’s hiding place.

  “It is not easy to steal out like this.”

  “But you are here now.” He smiled. “Meeting you is the one solace I shall know on this blackest of days.”

  “It is a black day for me too. King’s Cliff will never be the same again. It is being destroyed.”

  “By your former love.”

  Augustine met his eyes quite blandly. “Yes.”

  “I cannot remain from you for much longer.”

  “I told you that I would marry you when your mourning was over—”

  “That is not what I meant.”

  She looked sharply away. “James, I do not think it sensible. What if we are discovered?”

  “What difference will it make?”

  “I will have no reputation.”

  “We were discreet before and we will be discreet again. The same adjoining rooms—”

  “We were lucky be
fore.”

  “And will be lucky again. I must go to Taunton at the end of the week. I want you to come there again too. Please, Augustine. Or must I once again resort to reminding you of what secret we both share?”

  “It wasn’t my doing!”

  “It is now, as much as if you had plotted it all yourself, my dear. I go to Taunton at the end of the week. Be there.” His face had lost its warmth now, his eyes were cold, and his mouth had become a thin, cruel line. He turned to remount, urging his horse away down the slope until the curve of the hill took him from sight.

  Augustine was very pale as she watched him go, and Laura saw how nervously her tongue passed over her dry lips as she gathered the reins of her horse and prepared to mount. Laura sensed the fear James Grenville had aroused in the woman he professed to love, but she felt no sympathy for Augustine, whose own greed and ambition had brought her to her present unenviable position.

  * * *

  The sun was high in a clear sky when the carriages at last began to arrive. There were elegant drags with coats of arms emblazoned on their panels, post chaises hired by farmers who had no fine carriage of their own, and wagons bringing the hundreds of lesser beings who flocked to King’s Cliff. One and all, they were intent upon witnessing the day’s events, the passing of an era that had glittered so dazzlingly and for so long.

  Near the platform, the crowds jostled together, all eager for the finest positions, while the aristocracy gathered in a separate enclosure, sipping the iced champagne that was served by footmen in the impressive Grenville livery. The iced champagne was an extravagance, Laura knew, but maybe it would help to bring forth more generous bidding….

  She dressed as the hour approached for the auction to commence. She had chosen to wear her apricot lawn gown and her most colorful Kashmir shawl. The black ribbon graced her throat again and a particularly attractive lace cap rested on her carefully pinned hair. It was a warm, fine day, but she shivered as she descended the staircase, for she did not know what reception she would receive.