by Linda Sole
Constance went into the bedroom provided. She knew at once that it was far from being the best the house could provide but it was more than adequate for her needs. If Jonathan’s uncle was as unfriendly as his servants she would not be staying long.
As Maisie went away to fetch water and some food, Constance sat on the edge of the bed. She felt very tired and her spirits were low. It was not to be expected that she would be welcomed with open arms but she had hoped that she would be able to tell Jonathan’s father of his bravery. After travelling all this way to bring his body home, it was a blow to discover that it was too late. Perhaps if there really was a heaven, as the priests preached, Jonathan would find his father there and make peace with him. She could only hope it was so.
Tears slid down her cheeks. She suddenly felt so very alone. Her purpose in bringing Jonathan here was all but over. However, his family felt about her they would have to believe the documents she carried. He would lie where he belonged and she could leave this house, go wherever she wished.
Just where could she go? Since arriving in France she had seen only unsmiling faces and most of the people she’d spoken to had either been rude to her or simply ignored her. How was she going to make a new life for herself here amongst these people? It had been hard enough in France, but there she’d had a roof over her head and people she knew to help her.
She thought of Pierre and Heloise, and Madeline. Perhaps she ought to return to the comtesse and seek employment, and yet she had sensed a new reserve in her mistress. Madeline was angry because she’d borrowed her things, even though she had understood Constance’s reasons. In time things might be as they once had been, but the difference was that Constance had protected Madeline and helped her when she was unhappy. Now she was rich and free to live her own life, she no longer needed Constance’s help.
It made Constance sad to think that their friendship might not survive. She had friends, of course. The nuns would welcome her and she might find work of some kind, but her purse was slender and she was not sure she could afford to pay the fare back to France. It had cost more to arrange everything than she’d thought and she had not wanted to sell Jonathan’s watch or his ring.
If only she knew where to contact Moraven. Even if he no longer wanted her, she was certain he would help her. The pain was hard to bear when she thought of their parting. She’d been proud and answered him coldly when all she’d wanted was to throw herself in his arms.
Heloise had destroyed his letter. What had it said? Had Moraven told her where she might find him?
The thoughts went round and round in her mind and she was startled when Maisie returned with her food and another maid brought in a can of warm water.
‘The earl’s wife has requested that you visit her in her parlour when you’re ready, miss. If you ring that bell someone will come and show you the way.’
‘Countess Summerton?’
‘Yes…’ Maisie hesitated, then, ‘She’s not very nice, miss. You’d best be careful what you say to her.’
‘Thank you,’ Constance said. ‘Could you perhaps send someone in fifteen minutes to help fasten my gown?’
‘Yes, miss, but you’d best make it ten. Her ladyship doesn’t care to be kept waiting.’
‘Very well, I’ll be as quick as I can.’
Constance poured herself a cup of tea and took a few sips as she stripped off her travelling gown. There was no time to do more than make herself presentable and she had not touched her food when the maid returned to fasten her gown.
‘You look very pretty, miss,’ Maisie said and frowned. ‘Do you have a different gown?’
‘Not with me. Is there something wrong with this one?’
Constance had left her trunk with most of her possessions at the shipping office in Dover. She’d chosen to bring the black velvet gown she’d worn the night she met Moraven, because it had been Madeline’s and was better than anything else she owned.
‘You wore this gown,’ Madeline had said, tossing it across the bed to her. ‘You may have it as a gift for taking care of my things. I do not care to wear it again and I can afford to buy new ones of my own choosing.’
Constance had thanked her. The gown made her think of Moraven, besides, if she became short of money she might be able to sell it for a few pounds.
‘I have nothing else with me,’ she said, glancing at her reflection in the small dressing mirror. ‘Do you think it is too…’
‘It becomes you well, miss – but the countess…well she may be jealous when she sees you looking like that. If the earl were to see you…’ Maisie glanced over her shoulder. ‘I should lose my job if anyone heard me, but he is unfaithful to her…and anyone can see why…’
‘I think you should not say any more. Thank you for the warning. I shall put on my redingote and hope the countess is not offended.’
‘I hope you didn’t mind my saying, miss?’
‘No, not at all.’
Constance sighed. She had not expected that Jonathan’s father would welcome her with open arms, but she’d thought he might give her a fair hearing. A jealous woman was hardly likely to want a stranger under her roof, especially if she thought her a rival.
Lifting her head proudly, Constance followed the maid along the landing to a door in the main building. Maisie knocked and then indicated that she should enter.
‘Good luck, miss.’
‘Thank you.’ Taking a deep breath, Constance went into the elegant parlour. A woman wearing a pearl grey gown with a high neckline framed in lace stood by the magnificent marble fireplace, though no fire was lit despite a chill in the room. She was thin, her dark hair swept back from her face in a way that made her look harsh, her manner stiff and unwelcoming.
For a moment her hazel eyes swept over Constance, narrowing in dislike, her mouth hard. ‘So you are the woman claiming to be my husband’s nephew’s wife. A likely tale. If you thought to come here and cheat us of our rightful inheritance you are making a huge mistake.’
‘You are mistaken, ma’am. I am Lord South’s wife but I did not come here to make a claim for his estate. I wanted to bring his body home and tell his father how brave he was – and how he died.’
‘Indeed? You have a smooth tongue, but your lies do not fool me. Even if Jonathan married you in a moment of madness his family will not accept you here. He quarrelled with his father. The earl cut him off without a penny – did you know that?’
‘He told me they had quarrelled. I should like to speak to my husband’s uncle, to tell him that Jonathan was braver than his father ever knew.’
‘My husband is in London. I fear you have had a wasted journey.’
‘Then I must go to London and speak to him. All I ask is that Jonathan is laid to rest with his family in the crypt.’
‘That much I can promise. If you have papers to prove that it is his body and not just some stranger you thought to foist on us.’
‘I have a letter from the doctor and all the necessary papers from the French authorities, also permits to bring him back to England.’
‘You have come from France?’
‘Yes. I wrote to Lord South’s father before I left Paris.’
‘The letter would have gone to the earl’s lawyers in London. My husband is dealing with his affairs now. He will arrange the interment when he returns.’
‘Thank you. You are very gracious, ma’am – but I think I should speak to your husband. I was told he would return later today.’
‘Do you dare to call me a liar?’ The countess moved towards Constance, striking her a blow across the face. ‘I will not have a slut like you in my house. Get out now and do not come here again. If you do I shall have you whipped like the wanton you are.’
Constance put a hand to her cheek. The pain was nothing besides the anger raging inside her. She wanted to shake the other woman and make her take back her insulting words, but she restrained the desire to strike back, lifting her head proudly.
‘You have nothi
ng to fear from me, ma’am,’ she said, her eyes flashing scorn. ‘I came here for two reasons. Firstly to bring Jonathan’s body home and secondly to tell his father that he should be proud of his son. I have your word that Jonathan will be placed with his family in the crypt and it is too late to speak with his father. As for staying in your house, I have no wish to remain a minute longer than necessary.’
‘Get out!’ the countess shrilled. ‘Leave at once or I shall have my servants throw you out.’
Constance inclined her head but maintained a dignified silence as she left the house. As she emerged from the parlour, she saw that Maisie was waiting for her and had her bag ready.
‘I was told to pack your things, miss. I’m really sorry but I’m to take you out and the dogcart will take you to the village. From there you must make your own way.’
‘You are not to blame,’ Constance said. ‘You have been kind enough in your way.’
‘I got Cook to make you up a parcel of food – just some cheese and bread and one of her meat pasties. Where will you go now, miss?’
‘Perhaps to Dover. I have friends in France. I may return to them.’
‘Are you really Lord Jonathan’s wife, miss?’
‘Yes, I really am. He loved me and I nursed him until he died.’
‘Then I’m sorry you’ve been treated so ill, miss. My uncle is a lawyer in London. Mr James Bristow his name is. You’re entitled to something. The old earl left everything to his son – as his widow you should have something.’
‘How kind of you to suggest it,’ Constance said. ‘My husband left me his entire estate in a will but I do not intend to make a claim for it.’
‘Why ever not, miss? This lot has got more than they need. You should have something.’
‘I did not marry him for his money,’ Constance smiled sadly. ‘Thank you for the food, Maisie. Do not worry, I shall manage.’
Maisie looked doubtful. ‘I took the liberty of looking, miss. You’ve only a few coins in your purse.’
‘I shall find work.’
‘Do you have a reference?’
‘No. I’ve never needed one before.’
‘You’ll find it hard to get work without one, miss – even a job like mine. I had to have someone to speak for me or I wouldn’t have been taken on.’
‘I’ll find something.’
Constance smiled as they arrived at the front door.
‘Goodbye, miss.’
‘Goodbye – and thank you.’
Constance walked away, her head held high. She allowed herself to be helped into the dogcart by the groom.
‘Where to, miss?’
‘Could you take me to the nearest pick up point for the London stage please?’
‘That will be the Cock and Hen, miss – but you’ll not get a passage until next Monday. It only runs twice a week in these parts and you’ve missed it today.’
‘I see…’ Constance felt her stomach tighten into knots.
She had enough money for her fare to London but not enough to stay at the inn for three nights beforehand. Her things were stored at Dover. After she’d spoken to the Earl of Summerton in London, she would sell something to take her as far as Dover. She could sell Madeline’s gown and that would pay for her return fare to France, but until then she was going to have to be very careful with her money.
‘Then perhaps I’d better go to the village. I might find lodging for a couple of nights more cheaply there.’
‘You could ask for Widow Bleakly,’ the groom said. ‘She might take you in for a few pence. Tell her that her nephew Geoffrey sent you and she'll treat you right.’
‘That is kind of you,’ Constance said and smiled. ‘I will ask for her in the village.’
‘I’ve no room,’ the widow said, eyeing her suspiciously. ‘Nor do I take in women like you, miss. My nephew had no right to send you here.’
‘I assure you I am respectable, ma’am.’
‘Indeed?’ Widow Bleakly sniffed audibly. ‘I’ve seen your sort before. A woman in your situation comes by a gown like that in only one way. I’ll not have a wanton staying under my roof. Be off with you before I call for help. The Beadle will soon show you what we do with your sort here.’
‘I am a widow like yourself, ma’am. You wrong me to think me wanton – yet I should not wish to stay where I am unwanted.’
Constance flinched as the door was slammed in her face. She realised that she ought to have changed back into her modest travelling gown before approaching the widow, but she hadn’t been given a chance before she left the Hall. There was nothing for it but to find a place in the woods where she could safely change her gown.
Constance recalled that they had passed through a town about an hour before they reached the earl’s house. If she could reach there before nightfall she might be able to sell Madeline’s velvet gown. The money would provide food and shelter until she had completed her journey.
She had Jonathan’s gold watch and chain sown into her bodice. Had the countess received her more kindly she would have given it to her – but she preferred to offer it to the earl, though by rights it was hers to sell as she wished.
She was torn between selling the gown and the watch. The gown suited her, though it made her look bold and wanton in the eyes of some – but it held memories for her. Tears stung her eyes. It would be so easy to simply give into her unhappiness but where would that get her?
No, she would not give up yet. Maisie had warned her of the countess’s jealousy. Perhaps the earl would be more amenable. He might be prepared to advance her a little of Jonathan’s bequest to her – or give her a reference. Maisie was right, a woman like Constance would find it hard to find decent work. Many ladies would not want her in their house. She might set up as a seamstress, of course. The work was hard and in the end she would ruin her eyesight, as so many girls did sewing in dark workrooms for hour after hour, but at least it was a way of earning her living.
For a moment she thought about what Pierre had told her about her father’s family. Was it possible that her uncle might take her in?
After being ignored by her mother’s family and insulted by the Countess of Summerton, she was reluctant to attempt reconciliation.
Only if she were desperate would she approach her father’s brother.
Chapter Twelve
‘Summerton, I want a word with you,’ Moraven hailed the man he saw leaving the prestigious club in St. James Street. ‘I left a message for you two days ago but have not been able to find you at your hotel or the club.’
‘Yes, I got your message concerning my nephew and his wife,’ Summerton frowned. ‘Her letter reached me only this morning. I believe she intends to go down to my brother’s place and I shall be leaving for Harland Hall later today. I was expected back yesterday but something important came up.’
‘I can vouch for their marriage. I heard him propose to Constance myself.’
‘Indeed? Tell me, what kind of a woman is she? Was Jonathan drunk or sober at the time?’
‘He was wounded and lay ill but he had fallen in love with her before the shooting. I think he knew he wouldn’t live long and he wanted to protect her.’
‘We had better discuss this in private. Are you telling me that she’s entitled to his estate?’
‘I believe he left her everything that wasn’t entailed. I know there was a will. I understand a reputable English doctor, as well as servants, witnessed it.’
‘I see – and you would vouch for this in court I dare say. What is the young woman to you may I ask?’
‘At the moment she is nothing, though if she will have me I would make her my wife. I have no interest in South’s fortune, acquit me of that, Summerton. However, she may well refuse my offer – and the law is the law.’
‘Yes, if you put it that way, I suppose you are right. Much of my nephew’s father’s estate was entailed, but his own personal fortune belongs to his wife – if she has the papers to prove it.’
‘
She has – though copies could be easily obtained if they were lost. Even without the will she would be entitled to her widow’s jointure.’
‘You’ve made your point, Moraven. I might have dismissed your claim once, but in the light of recent events I think most of society would take your side should it come to law. You leave me little choice. I shall delay my departure another day and speak to my brother’s lawyers again.’
‘Thank you,’ Moraven said. ‘I doubt Constance would press the claim herself, but she has nothing else and I would not see her starve for her pride’s sake.’
‘If she is that kind of woman perhaps I should do more,’ Summerton said and frowned. ‘If my wife were to introduce her into society her chances of making a good marriage would be much enhanced.’
‘That is her choice and yours. I have made my case, sir.’
‘Yes, and you may rely on me to do what is right – providing the paperwork is in order.’
‘I assure you any necessary papers can be provided.’
‘We shall see. If you will excuse me, I have more business to attend before I leave London.’
Moraven watched him walk away and frowned. The earl might try to wriggle out of giving her what was due to her but he would force him to do the right thing if need be. If Constance would marry him, she would not want for anything, but he wasn’t at all sure she would wish to have anything more to do with him.
As far as he could see, Constance hadn’t known that he’d left her a letter when she boarded that ship for England. She must think he’d abandoned her. Summerton had said that Constance intended to go down to his brother’s estate. She would probably be there waiting for him to return. If he drove himself down immediately, he would be there before the earl. He wanted to see her and speak to her himself before she decided what to do with her life.
Moraven had cursed himself for a fool so many times. Why hadn’t he seen that she was special when they first met? He’d been amused and intrigued by her masquerade and her beauty inflamed his senses. He’d offered her so little and taken so much. She probably hated him and he was only just beginning to understand how much she meant to him.
