by May Burnett
“All the more reason to remove him from the scene,” Jonathan said. “If Buckley were arrested on some serious charge, with strong evidence, would he remain taken? I have heard rumours that he has some hold on influential people who could have him set free, in such a case.”
“What! Where did you hear that?”
“From a professional investigator, who knows many people on both sides of the law.” He preferred not to give Hendrickson’s name to Leicester, in case it got back to Buckley.
“Interesting,” the magistrate said. “Such rumours can be useful to a criminal, even if completely unfounded. If there should be anything to them, on the other hand, it should be easy enough to find who tries to get the man out. Do what you think best, Durwent, I prefer not to know anything more about it. If and when Buckley should be arrested, I can ensure that he is not simply let go, without knowing the reason why.”
They parted soon after. It did not take Jonathan long to make further arrangements, involving a theatrical agency and a hefty bribe. The very next morning, as Buckley was walking along Oxford Street, an elegant lady loudly accused him of attempting to steal her purse. Two bystanders confirmed the accusation as witnesses, and made sure that the accused did not escape until the watch took him in charge. Nobody paid any attention to Buckley’s furious denials and threats of murderous reprisals. His attitude, indeed, convinced the magistrate on duty that they were dealing with a dangerous character, and Buckley was immediately remanded to prison. The lady, a Mrs. Ferguson, very correctly gave her deposition and particulars, and so did the witnesses, with surprising patience. By the next day all three would be far away, joining a touring troupe of actors in the north of England under their real names.
Jonathan had watched the whole from a distance, preferring not to appear directly in the matter. The redoubtable Buckley was a surprisingly young-looking, wiry fellow, not above forty, who did not at first glance inspire any fear or respect. If the man managed to wriggle out of this trap, Jonathan had a number of other measures in store for him. Already, he was moving in on Buckley’s business interests through a middle man. Jonathan was not ordinarily ruthless, but acting against a villain who had harassed and threatened Cherry he felt no qualms.
By hook or by crook, Buckley would be completely neutralised before Cherry returned to London.
***
The next day Jonathan met James Ellsworthy at the Charybdis for a leisurely lunch.
“Congratulations on your Club,” James said, “if everything is as excellent as the soup and fish we just enjoyed, it is definitely superior to Brooks. The library is more comfortable, too.”
“New competitors have to try harder,” Jonathan said, “it’s a well-known phenomenon. Those who think that just doing as well is enough tend to go out of business quickly. After a few decades this club may also become complacent and lazy, and new upstarts will outdo it, though we’ve done our best to ward against that in our statutes. So far all is going splendidly, we have our full complement of members and a waiting list of thirty more.” Or was it fifty already? He had not checked since his departure to Bellington. Certainly the dining room was full enough.
“Then I won’t apply to join the waiting list,” James said, “but I will ask you to put down my son’s name, unless you have a rule against the practice?”
“No, there are already several other children on the list. Very well, I will put Roger among them. But there are more urgent items I want to discuss.”
“We don’t need to talk business this time,” James said, “that written report by your assistant was admirably clear and concise.” That had been a good idea, and was excellent practice for Jonathan’s secretary, who had proven his worth and ability during these last weeks. His promotion was imminent.
“You will continue to receive such written reports in future, James, but you are most welcome to discuss any of the points with me when we meet – as I hope we continue to do.”
“Of course,” James said, “and at my brother’s house party we shall have yet more time to enjoy each other’s company. As you have only just returned to town, I don’t suppose you have been able to select a bride yet?”
Jonathan could not restrain a broad grin. “You suppose wrong. I am actually engaged to a wonderful lady I met on my recent trip north. I have not yet got around to it, but I shall write to your amiable sister-in-law that I am declining her invitation to Amberley after all, since the purpose is now moot.”
“Congratulations,” James said, surprised. “From your expression I deduce that it is not a mere marriage of convenience, as you were planning the last time we talked? Can it be that you are in love at last?”
“It changes everything,” Jonathan said, not denying the charge. “All my previous plans and intentions went up in smoke, and I do not regret them for a moment. My bride is worth infinitely more than the trappings I only thought I wanted.”
“She must be an unusual woman, to have wrought such a reaction in a bachelor as obdurate as you. Is she the woman you mentioned in your letter, the mysterious Sophia Jones?”
“No, her name is Cherry, short for Charity.”
“What – one of the three women you thought might be your sister?”
“Yes,” Jonathan admitted, “and I don’t mind telling you, that gave me some moments of panic. There is nothing more horrible than to believe that the woman you are attracted to might be a close relative. Fortunately that is all sorted out. We have written proof that my twin is one of the other sisters, Prudence, also known as Mrs. Matthew Spalding. I even found out why my parents gave her away, and all things considered, it was for the best.”
“You can’t mean it,” James said, staring. “To give your twin sister away?”
“Yes,” Jonathan said, “under the circumstances, it almost certainly saved my sister’s life. It is a lesson to me not to second-guess or judge others’ decisions without knowing all the facts. Anyway, Prune – that’s how she’s called in the family – has two strapping boys and a little girl, Anne, who looks like Emily when she was that age. Anne and Prune even have the same inability to eat mustard that my mother had, and most fortunately did not pass down to her male descendants. There is not the shadow of a doubt about our relationship.”
“So I must congratulate you once again,” James said, pouring some of the Club’s special Moselle into their glasses, “on finding your sister. That makes five nieces and nephews altogether, with Emily’s two?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if it is more within the year,” Jonathan said. “Emily is planning to travel to Bellington as soon as possible. I expect she and Prune will be excellent friends. They have much in common.”
“And your fiancée? Where is she now?”
“Still in Bellington, to my regret. I miss her. She’s as busy there as I am here, as I left her in charge of refurbishing an estate I bought there. Matt Spalding, my new brother-in-law, is going to run the business side and look after the tenants.” Jonathan thought fleetingly of the long list of objects he had promised to send back to Lobbock Hall, that his secretary was even now assembling. Two pianos, gifts for Patch and little Anne, were the bulkiest items.
“Then you are a landed gentleman already?”
“Yes, and the owner of several hundred hogs, I would have you know. Not counting their offspring.”
“Hogs are perfectly respectable. Every large estate has such agricultural interests.”
“I did not buy the estate for the hogs, in fact I would rather do without them. The real attraction was a gallery of old masters. My favourite canvas, in the Flemish style, already hangs in my office at home.”
“Good luck seems to favour you these days. When you say home, do you mean your Chelsea house or the new one in Mayfair?”
“Chelsea for now, but it will be Cherry’s decision which of them she prefers. I bought the new house to please my wife, but the wife I am marrying is very different from the picture I had in my mind.” Thank heavens.
&n
bsp; “In what ways?” James was regarding him with a gleam of amusement in his eyes.
“Cherry is close to my own age, and a widow without children. Of the three sisters, she is the only one whose parentage we have not yet been able to discover, though I am hopeful Hendrickson may yet find some clue or trace.” He explained Cherry’s origins to James, who shook his head at this new mystery. “So not only is Cherry not an aristocratic debutante, but we know virtually nothing about her family background.”
“She could still be an aristocrat, from what little you know,” James commented, “since her mother travelled with her own coach and servants, though the whole affair sounds unusual and shocking. The authorities should have searched much more diligently.”
“I agree, but it was a tiny place and thirty years ago. Frankly, I don’t care, and merely continue the investigation because Cherry would like to know the truth. I hope if it is found, that it will not cause her pain. The truth is often not what we might have wished for.”
“If you need my help for anything, do let me know,” James offered. “As for the house party, I know I speak for Marianne and George that you should still come, and bring your bride also. I am looking forward to meeting her, and so will Charlotte when I tell her about your adventures.”
“I don’t know … Cherry is still in mourning for her first husband, who shot himself over debts. Black weeds would not contribute to the cheerful atmosphere of Lady Amberley’s house party. I myself can hardly await the day when she puts them away, and we can marry at last. Five more months seem like an eternity, when I have only just found her.”
“A house party is not a ball or masquerade, where a widow would be completely out of place. I will consult Marianne, and she will write to your Charity, who may or may not decide to accept. You have to come in any case, since you have already agreed to do so in writing. Hostesses hate it if guests drop out at short notice.”
“Very well,” Jonathan agreed, not completely loath. “By the bye, I met Lady Amberley’s brother, Lord Pell, during my journey north. He owns the biggest estate near Bellington, a place called Adlingham.”
“I have heard him mention the estate,” James said. “Anthony is also invited to the Amberley house party. You will meet him again there. And Henry and Minerva. It is not as though you would be thrown entirely among strangers.”
“Cherry, and my present friends and family, are all the company I need.”
“With your wealth and that attitude, polite society will likely welcome you on your own terms,” James predicted. “The secret to social prominence is not to care about it, or to need it. At least when one is as successful as you.”
Chapter 28
June 1823
Patch’s wedding was a momentous occasion. Her future father-in-law officiated, and the church of St. Stephen’s had never been more beautifully decorated than on this overcast morning; Patch had not been allowed to touch a single one of the white and yellow flowers that gave the austere building such a cheerful, festive touch.
The choir outdid themselves with the selection of celebratory hymns, and the soaring melodies echoed the joy in Patch’s heart.
The wedding breakfast was to be held in the big Hall of Lobbock Manor, scrubbed and decorated by the new housekeeper and her maids, reinforced for this particular occasion by additionally hired workers. The food was prepared for the most part by Spalding Hall’s excellent cook, though the new cook Cherry had hired for Lobbock Manor was on her mettle to demonstrate that her own offerings were just as delicious, and the Vicarage cook had also contributed her share.
Cherry’s only regret was that she was still in blacks on the day of her sister’s wedding. As she stood in the Spalding family pew at Lady Spalding’s side, she made a conscious effort to overcome the anger at Max that still poisoned his memory. Here in the church among so many happy faces, it was easier than before to dredge up pity for the man she had married in this very place, ten years ago. She had not been as glowing as Patch, even then, when she looked back; mostly glad to escape the joyless atmosphere of Spalding Hall, and determined to be a good and loyal wife. She had done her best, and yet it had not saved Max. Had it been because they had not really suited, and she should have waited for a man who swept her off her feet – like Jonathan? But she was not the same woman she had been ten years ago, and Jonathan, by his own account, at that age had been far from ready for marriage.
Her thoughts wanted to stray to the future, to Jonathan, but she knew she had to make her peace with Max, and more importantly with God, if she wanted to build a more solid future with her second husband. He would be her last husband, she vowed, if only because she would make sure he lived to a healthy old age. That bout of fever had been a warning she would not fail to heed. Conscious that the future was not only up to her, she prayed for a long life with Jonathan.
Paul and Patch spoke their vows in firm, clear voices, their determination and lack of doubt evident to the whole congregation. Had she sounded so certain, when she married Max?
Patch’s wedding was the only thing that had kept her here in Bellington for the last week. She was eager to travel to London, and see Jonathan again. He had written that Buckley would shortly be transported, and could no longer harm her. If only she’d had a champion like Jonathan earlier, how much fear and worry she could have been spared! But perhaps it was best that she had not met him until after Max’s death. It would have been a terrible temptation to love one man, while still married to another.
Love … had she told him that she loved him? Not in so many words, and neither had he. Yet she knew herself loved, and felt certain that he was equally sure of her feelings. Still, it might be a good idea to say it, out loud and regularly.
There was another thing she prayed about, but it was so private, and so unexpected, that she hardly dared put her hopes into conscious thoughts, even here in Church. But the Lord would already know, if it were so….
The bridal couple had exchanged the rings, and were proceeding to sign the register. Prune and Paul’s cousin Christian Selbington were the witnesses. Next to Cherry, Lady Spalding touched her fine cambric handkerchief to her eyes, and old Miss Spalding uttered a sentimental sigh. Sir Charles squinted at the couple with his usual ill-natured expression, but at least he had not interfered with the wedding preparations.
Matt grinned at Cherry as the bride and groom, followed by the witnesses, began to leave the church. “When w-will your own w-wedding be? And where?” He asked, as everyone was standing and preparing to follow.
“We haven’t decided,” Cherry said. If her suspicions, or hopes, were correct, they might not be able to wait until the mourning year was over. She let go of her anger with a sigh. Max was her past; Jonathan was her future. The future was infinitely more important.
***
Cherry had asked Miss Spalding to accompany her to London. To her surprise, Lady Spalding had expressed a desire to come with them, ignoring her husband’s grumbling.
Thus she had both older ladies as well as their ancient Abigail with her in the elegant, well-sprung coach Jonathan had sent up from town. It was a new purchase, he’d written, and he would be obliged to her to try it out. The team of four greys looked as elegant as the dark blue lacquer and gold trim on the coach’s body. Johnathan’s own coachman and two outriders ensured their safety on the long journey.
Cherry’s return to London was thus a far cry from her desperate flight eight weeks earlier, when she had barely had enough money for the common stage. In the inns where they slept and ate the three ladies were treated with deference, and given commodious rooms that Jonathan’s retainers had reserved for them when the coach came up. They had also paid for these rooms in advance, it turned out.
“A most considerate young man, your Jonathan,” Lady Spalding said to Cherry as they were having their last breakfast on the road.
“We should not accept his bounty like this, allowing him to pay for everything,” Cherry said. “After all, we are not mar
ried yet.”
“All the more reason to let him get into the habit of looking after your needs. If you don’t train your husband early, it might no longer be possible later.”
“I don’t think of him in such terms,” Cherry protested, even as she wondered if Sir Charles had ever been young and generous enough to be thus trained. Judging by the end result, it seemed unlikely.
Adding a dollop of cream to her strawberries she was suddenly overcome with acute nausea, and left the breakfast room almost at a run. The scent of the berries, so pleasing and delicate normally, had seemed overpowering this morning. As she rinsed her mouth with barley water, she could no longer doubt it: she was expecting Jonathan’s child.
How would he react to her news? She herself was overjoyed, despite the awkward timing. She had waited in vain all those years, hoping every now and then, but always disappointed. Yet her body had been ready, and now at long last her son or daughter was forming in her womb, waiting to be born.
Would he or she look like Jonathan?
***
The coach did not take them to Jonathan’s house, which she knew to be in Chelsea, but to an elegant mansion in Bruton Place.
Jonathan was there, waiting for them, which was all that mattered. He decorously kissed the ladies’ hands, but Cherry, impatient with his display of restraint, embraced and kissed him, ignoring the interested gazes of Lady Spalding and Miss Spalding, and the scandalized look of their elderly maid.
“We must talk privately,” she murmured. “I have news.”
He nodded comprehension, but turned to the other ladies again.
“I took the liberty of installing you here, for the time being. I bought this place only a few months ago, and it is your decision, Cherry, if we move here after we marry, or not. Your bedrooms and linens have all been renewed, but the rest of the house is still as I bought it, so I have to beg your indulgence for the strangeness of some of the furniture. If you want to live here, Cherry, you have carte blanche to change anything and everything. In fact, I very much hope you’d replace the Egyptian elements. The staff is new, from an agency, and you can also make whatever changes you deem desirable.”
