Sons of the Marquess Collection

by Mary Kingswood

  “No,” Gus said, his voice a shade louder. “We will say what must be said here and now, for I will not leave the lady.”

  Amaryllis wished she could curl up into a ball like a hedgehog, and pretend none of this were happening, or if it were, that it had nothing at all to do with her. All that could come of this confrontation was that the duke would say publicly all that he had once said to her privately. But she trusted Gus, she had placed her confidence in him, and now, however much she trembled, she must see it through and not disgrace him. And there was Ned to consider, too, clinging tightly to her hand, silent and terrified, just as she was.

  “As you wish,” the duke said, drawing himself up to his full, imposing height. He raised his voice, so that he could be heard throughout the vast room. “Before you all, I declare that this woman is not my son’s wife, and the child is no heir of mine, however much I may wish it to be so. I have examined all the facts and found no evidence to support the claim.”

  “But I have,” Gus said, and his voice, although quiet, resonated throughout the room. “The Lord Edward Winfell married Miss Amaryllis Cordwainer by special licence at Holly Cottage in the town of Drifford. The officiating clergyman was Mr William Parker, and the marriage was witnessed by Mr Anthony White, a physician of that town, and Mr Joseph Cordwainer, a retired clergyman, and father of the bride, who gave his consent freely. The marriage was recorded in the register of the Old Drifford Church. Three months later, Lord Edward Winfell was killed in action in the Peninsula. Six months after that, his son was born, and the baptism of Edward John Henry Winfell was recorded in the same church register.”

  The silence in the room was absolute.

  “You know all this?” the duke whispered.

  “I do.”

  “But can you prove it?”

  “I can. The special licence, the letter of consent and the church register are all presently within the walls of this castle, in the care of Mr William Parker and Mr Willerton-Forbes, awaiting the inspection of your grace’s lawyers. Lady Edward’s marriage lines are in the safe keeping of an attorney in High Morton.”

  The duke sat down heavily in his chair. Then he lifted his head and emitted an unearthly keening sound, the primal cry of the warrior after a successful battle when the enemy is finally slain, a cry that owed nothing at all to civilisation.

  “God be praised!” he cried, his voice shaking with emotion. “I have a grandson at last.”

  ~~~~~

  Within an hour, a many-roomed apartment in the keep had been allocated to the duke’s newly-found daughter-in-law and grandson, and an army of servants sent in to sweep and brush and polish, and whisk away holland covers and lay fires and smooth crisp, white linens and fluffy blankets on the beds.

  From some obscure attic, footmen had wheeled in a scale model of the castle, the sides hinged to open up the interior, and boxes upon boxes of tiny furnishings and horses and carriages and even a battalion of miniature footmen to stand about in silent servitude, just like their larger counterparts. Ned was busily engaged in placing the horses in the Great Gallery, so that they might have room to gallop about, and beds in the stables, so that the grooms might not have to sleep upon the rigid blocks of wooden hay, while his grandfather sat on a stool nearby, unashamedly wiping away tears of joy.

  “He will never sleep tonight,” Amaryllis said to Gus, watching her son fondly. “What hour is it? Surely it is past midnight?”

  “It must be,” Gus said. “It hardly matters, for this one night. He will sleep when he is ready.”

  “But then it is already the Sabbath,” she said, shocked. “He should not be playing today.”

  Gus picked up her hand, now relieved of its glove, and tucked it comfortably around his arm, so that he could stroke it, making her blush. “For this one night, let us not worry too much. It would be very hard to take him away from his grandpapa just yet. He will remember he is tired soon enough.”

  On a chair nearby, the Lady Rachel Medhurst sat in languid composure, fanning herself lazily. As the duke’s newly chosen intended, she was entitled to feel disgruntled that her hour of glory had been upstaged by a slip of a girl and a four-year-old boy, but she gave no sign of anything but boredom.

  The butler came into the room with another train of servants behind him, all laden with bags and boxes. “I beg pardon for the intrusion, milady, but where should we place these items from his lordship the marquess’s bedroom at the lodge?”

  She rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Is there an empty room where they may be left for now?”

  “Of course, milady.”

  With many bows, he withdrew, his train of followers in a long line behind him, for all the world like a mother duck with her ducklings.

  “It is going to take me a while to get used to these new names,” Amaryllis said.

  The duke looked up at her and cackled gleefully. “No need to get used to yours, I daresay, little lady. Marford here has plans for you to change it soon enough.”

  That made her blush all over again, but Gus just laughed. “Ah, there is no hiding anything from you, Duke.” Which made the duke cackle even more.

  Lady Rachel rose languidly to her feet. “Well, I am no longer wanted here, that is clear to see, so I shall go to my bed.”

  “Very well,” the duke said. “On Monday I shall write to the Gazette, to have a notice posted of our betrothal.”

  “Do not bother,” she said. “As if I would marry an old man like you.”

  “Then why did you pretend that you would, you silly woman?” the duke said.

  “Why, to make you look ridiculous, of course. I had planned to wait until you formally offered for me the end of the evening before rejecting you, for the greatest possible humiliation, but the scheming hussy with the big, innocent eyes has rather sunk that idea. So I will just leave first thing tomorrow. Today, I suppose.”

  “But you cannot travel on a Sunday!” Amaryllis said, shocked.

  Lady Rachel looked her up and down. “I am the daughter of a duke. I may do whatever I please.”

  “Then you would be very wrong,” Amaryllis said stoutly.

  With a titter that might have been embarrassment or annoyance, Lady Rachel swirled her skirts and strode out of the room without another word.

  But the duke cackled again. “You put her in her place, little lady. Ha! Very wrong, indeed! These Medhursts are all the same, but what can one expect with these new dukedoms? Not much more than two hundred years old, Wedhampton’s line. Upstarts, the lot of them.”

  “I find it is viscounts who are the most encroaching,” Gus said. “No manners at all. But I think you may have had a narrow escape there, Duke. She would have made your life miserable.”

  “You are probably right, but she is right too. What is more ridiculous than an old man bent on taking a new wife? I should have had more sense.” He struggled to his feet, wincing. “Damnation, but this gout is a great trial to me. Where is Emma, that is what I should like to know? She had a way of getting me straight that none of these fool medical men can manage. Pleasant little thing, too. Not one for putting herself forward, like her dreadful sisters, or that Medhurst woman. Why was she not here tonight?”

  “She left because you humiliated her with this contest of yours, Duke,” Gus said. “She would have married you in a moment and made you very happy had you ever looked her way, but you never did. She would not perform for you like a circus animal, she said, so she left.”

  “She would have married me?”

  “Certainly, and been thrilled about it. She told me some tale about watching you dance when she was just a girl, and how you were the handsomest man in the room. She has harboured a secret passion for you ever since.”

  “Emma?” the duke said, sitting heavily back down on his stool. “Emma Frensham? And you think she would not mind — me being such a grouchy old fool?”

  Gus laughed. “She told me you were not really grouchy at all, that it was just the gout that made you cross.”


  “Good God! Oh, I beg your pardon, Amaryllis. I must learn to watch my language, eh? But where is she, Marford? Where is Emma? I must write to her. I must write this minute… no, not on the Sabbath, eh? Not on the Sabbath. I shall write first thing on Monday. But today, I shall attend chapel for once, and we shall have some fine uplifting hymns, and thank God with the greatest sincerity for His infinite grace.”

  And Amaryllis could agree with that with all her heart.

  25: Well-Wishers

  For three days, Amaryllis walked about in a dream. Servants bowed and curtsied deeply to her, those of importance from High Morton and the country around all came to pay their respects to her and admire the newly-discovered heir, a steady stream of gifts arrived, the duke was affable and smiled whenever he saw her, teams of seamstresses came to fit her out for her new position in society, and she was suddenly surrounded by kindness and gentleness and people. From her quiet solitude with Ned and three servants, she had been dropped into a maelstrom of callers and servants and no peace at all.

  Her world had expanded greatly. The whole of the north lodge could have fitted into her new bedchamber, and she seemed to spend hours each day traipsing along endless corridors or up or down stairs to get from one place to another. And that was just the keep, for she had not yet been permitted to venture into the greater part of the castle for fear of Mrs Ballard leaping out from behind a pillar. Everywhere she went, three or four footmen trailed behind her to protect her.

  But there was one great benefit to this restriction, in that all her visitors must be allowed into the keep itself, and the duke’s long-held stricture that only those of blue blood be permitted therein was blown to smithereens. All the callers were shown into the nursery, where Ned could not be separated from the model castle, now populated with a great array of tiny residents in hooped skirts and enormous wigs, and his grandfather could not be separated from Ned. The duke spent most of his time sprawled full length on the floor, arranging the furnishings and wooden people according to the whims of his heir. So it was Amaryllis who dispensed tea and received the congratulations of the populace and tried to remember even one tenth of their names.

  Fortunately, Gus was usually there too, and somehow the formal visits of strangers were less of an ordeal when he was there, talking on the easiest terms with everyone, gently chaffing the duke’s occasional outbursts of ill-humour and unceremoniously carrying Ned away when he became fretful. Dear Gus! His calm good sense was so soothing to her.

  The former heir and his wife, Mr and Mrs Richard Winfell, were amongst the visitors, greeting Amaryllis with wide smiles.

  “Such a relief, you cannot guess!” Mrs Winfell said, sitting beside Amaryllis and patting her arm in a friendly way. “We was so happy to hear the news, for now we may go home to Cheshire and not trouble ourselves about being duke and duchess and living in a great stone monstrosity like this. Begging your pardon, my lady, I’m sure, for it’s your home now, but I should find it an uncomfortable sort of a place. And we was never suited to being so high, you know, and certainly never wanted it. Why, my father is nought but an apothecary, and although he’s perfectly respectable, it’s not like being a duke, is it? Goodness, what a fine little man you have there! Such a sturdy little chap. Now my Peter is five now, but I declare he is not so tall as your boy. William, on the other hand…”

  Amaryllis found it very restful to listen to Mrs Winfell rattling away about nothing in particular.

  “Mama! Mama!” Ned yelled, brandishing a brown-paper-wrapped package. “Another present! May I open it?”

  “Bring it over here, and you may open it in front of me, for if it is more pistols—”

  “It is sweeties! Look! May I have some now?”

  “Just one, no more. If you eat up all your dinner, you may have some more afterwards.”

  Ned took a bite of one of the sugar-coated sweets, pulled a face and wandered away again. Amaryllis laughed. “He is getting so spoilt! A few days ago such a gift would have been a rare treat, and I would have been hard pressed to prevent him eating the whole box in one sitting.”

  “Mine are like that too, and they are accustomed to such treats,” Mrs Winfell said, looking after Ned with a frown. “May I see the box? Oh, this is from a very good shop in the town, but they are strangely misshapen, are they not? What does the note say?”

  “Just ‘From a well-wisher’,” Amaryllis said. “But—”

  Mrs Winfell picked up the half-eaten sweet and sniffed at it. “Tell me, would anyone wish to harm Ned?”

  Amaryllis turned cold. “Yes!” she cried. “There is one who might— Oh God! Ned!” As she watched, Ned’s feet faltered. He turned glassy eyes to her, and took one wobbly step before collapsing.

  “Quick, a basin, a bowl, anything!” cried Mrs Winfell. “No, stand aside from him, all of you. I am an apothecary’s daughter, I know what to do.”

  And she did, too. Without hesitation, she picked Ned up, rolled him onto his side and pushed her fingers down his throat. His whole body heaved, and he vomited copiously over Mrs Winfell’s and Amaryllis’s skirts, and the duke’s shoes. Then he vomited again.

  “Well done, little man,” said Mrs Winfell in pleased tones. “An excellent response.”

  “Will he… be all right?” Amaryllis whispered, gazing at the pale, unmoving form of her son.

  “I will not lie,” Mrs Winfell said. “Without knowing the precise form of poison used, it is impossible to be sure. Some poisons are so virulent that the patient cannot be saved. But see, there on my gown, the half sweet that he ate, quite intact. He did not even chew it. That gives me some hope that he has only absorbed a small amount, and may well make a full recovery.”

  And within a very few minutes, even Amaryllis’s anxious eyes could detect a greater colour in Ned’s cheeks, and not long after that his eyes fluttered open. Within an hour, he was declaring himself famished, and could he please have something to eat now?

  Amaryllis and the duke wept quietly together in relief.

  ~~~~~

  Gus waited only to be sure that Ned would live before riding out. The duke was organising constables and deploying troops, but Gus could not delay. He took with him Edgerton and Merton, and as many grooms as could ride fast. Since not all could jump, they took the road to Drifford, terrorising the sedate matrons’ carriages and forcing aside farmers’ carts, for no one was to stand in Gus’s way when Ned’s life had been threatened. His anger burned inside him like a simmering volcano, and his only thought was to find Mrs Ballard and reduce her to gibbering terror, for putting Amaryllis — all of them — through such an ordeal.

  What kind of woman avenges herself by the killing of a child, an innocent? What insanity must inhabit her mind to make anyone want to do such a thing? He knew not, but of one thing alone he was coldly and irrevocably sure — that Mrs Ballard was responsible for this devilry. She was a wicked, wicked woman, and she would hang for what she had done, on that he was determined.

  They tore into Drifford Square and turned towards Drifford House. The gates were closed, but they were arched in the middle and low at either end, and Jupiter jumped them without breaking stride. Gus pelted up the drive, slithered to a halt, sending gravel pinging against the walls, and tossed Jupiter’s reins over a bush. Then he took the steps two at a time, and banged on the door with fists and riding crop, then the knocker, and then his fists again.

  “Open up!” he yelled. “Open this door at once!”

  Edgerton and Merton came up behind him, and Merton rang the bell, explaining mildly, “They may not hear knocking from the basement.”

  Eventually a footman answered, but before he could speak, Gus had barged past him and into the hall. “Where is she? Where is Mrs Ballard?”

  “I regret, sir—”

  “No, tell me no lies. I will see her, and I will search this house from top to bottom to find her and so you may tell her.”

  “What is happening?” said a gentle voice from the stairs. “Wha
t is all this noise, Terence?” A young man appeared, very finely dressed, and with a cultured accent. Gus guessed him to be about thirty.

  “Sir, these gentlemen—”

  Gus pushed past him. “I am Lord Augustus Marford. I have no idea who you are, sir, but I am looking for Mrs Ballard on a matter of great urgency. Is she within?”

  “My wife is within, but—”

  “Your wife? Oh but—”

  “—she has just this past hour presented me with a fine son, our first.”

  Gus was momentarily taken aback. It was Merton who stepped forward. “You are Mr Richard Ballard, I surmise? Then it is your mother whom we seek, Mrs Charles Ballard.”

  Ballard seemed himself to understand the situation, for he ushered them into a strongly masculine room, bade them sit and offered them refreshments.

  “We have no time for this!” Gus burst out, but Merton placed a hand on his arm.

  “Let us be patient, my lord. Mr Ballard will, I believe, explain all to us. For I suspect that the Mrs Ballard we want is no longer here.”

  “You are correct, sir,” Ballard said. “My father returned unexpectedly two days ago, and took my mother away. He was very angry, for she had tried to take a child from its mother, something of which he strongly disapproved. They quarrelled but my father had the better of it, as he always does. He said they must leave at once, and never come back, and I am not even to know of their whereabouts. And so I am Master of Drifford now, a little earlier than expected, and this house is mine. We have not properly moved in yet, but my wife wanted the baby to be born here. I am sorry, was your business with my mother a matter of great import?”

  “It was a matter of justice,” Gus said. “A child almost died today because of your mother, sir.”

  “I do not see how that could be,” he said calmly, “when she left here two days ago.”

  Gus was so flummoxed by this that he could not even form a reply, and jumped up at once to leave. Ballard accompanied them to the front door.

  “I daresay we will see more of each other in future, Lord Augustus,” Ballard said. “Mrs Ballard is keen to move in a wider society once she is able to go out again, and so we will be spending some time in High Morton, and perhaps even London, who knows?”