Rosalind: A Regency Romance (The Four Sisters Series Book 1)

by Audrey Harrison

  “At least no one will know what has gone on in the past,” Peter acknowledged. “What about the child?”

  “Lady Kettering and I have decided that the child should be with us; we shall raise her ourselves.”

  “Are you going to acknowledge who she is?” Peter asked astounded.

  “No,” Lord Kettering admitted. “If Joan does ever return, she cannot face the censure that we both know would be forthcoming, no matter how many years have passed.”

  “That is true,” Peter acknowledged. “I’m not sure how it can happen, but I want to be involved with the child’s upbringing both financially and physically.”

  “We thought you would,” Lord Kettering responded. “We are prepared to pay for her upbringing, but we would be doing her a further disservice if we refused your help. She may not have the best of backgrounds but between us we can secure her future. You can obviously visit her or have her visit as much as you wish as she grows. If it could be done without the gossips noticing, all the better.”

  “Giving the gossips something to talk about would benefit no one,” Peter acknowledged. “What is her name?”

  “Mathilda,” Lord Kettering said. “I have seen her a few times; my wife visits regularly though. She tells me that the child is the image of Robert, so you may wish to prepare yourself for when you do meet her.”

  Peter paused, he was not sure how to prepare himself before seeing the image of his brother. Lord Kettering interrupted his thoughts. “It’s a bloody mess.”

  Peter smiled a little, “My life these past few years has been a bloody mess, but at least I can honestly say that some good has come of it.” An image of Rosalind floated in his mind’s eye, and his smile widened. Yes, some good had emerged despite everything.

  *

  Mrs Adams stayed away for two days before resuming her visits. Rosalind was surprised to see that she brought Miss Latimer with her. “The foolish child thought you would not allow her admittance,” Mrs Adams explained.

  Rosalind could see that Miss Latimer was highly embarrassed. “I would never refuse you admittance; after all, it is you we have to thank for being open with us.”

  “You are more magnanimous than Joan; I don’t think that she will ever forgive me,” Miss Latimer said with a pained expression. The words in the letter she had received from her friend would not be forgotten easily.

  “She will when she returns with a rich nabob from India, mark my words; but as I’ve told you time and again, you’ll fare better without her. She wasn’t good for you in any sense; you’ll see now that she’s gone: people will be far more welcoming without her by your side whispering poison into your ear. You’ve been too long in that one’s shadow,” Mrs Adams said.

  Rosalind suppressed a smile, Mrs Adams was always completely frank, which made her ask her next question. “You are always outspoken, Mrs Adams, no matter what the consequences. Could I ask why you kept the news of a niece from my husband?”

  Mrs Adams became serious, “That is one decision that I will regret until my dying day. Peter didn’t deserve not to be told. I could see what pressure he was under before and after Robert’s death; I didn’t want to add to it, but it is a poor excuse. I should have said something, and I am sorry that I didn’t.”

  “I am somewhat reassured by your words,” Rosalind said. “I was under the impression that you wouldn’t be one who would be false in your actions towards this family; the other day shook that belief.”

  “I will always be your friend now and in the future,” Mrs Adams said, “You shall always have my honesty, no matter what the consequences.”

  “Good,” Rosalind replied firmly.

  Chapter 14

  Seeing his niece for the first time was always going to difficult for Peter. The revelations that had been revealed about Robert’s true character could only make it worse, but he was determined to overcome his feelings towards his dead brother and see the child.

  The night before the visit, Peter could not sleep. He had gone to bed in Rosalind’s bedchamber as was normal now, but when she fell asleep, Peter was left staring at the canopy of the four poster. Eventually he left the bed and walked through to the sitting room. He did not want to disturb Rosalind, and his tossing and turning would undoubtedly do so. He poured himself a drink and sat staring at the embers in the fireplace.

  He had been completely fooled by Robert as much as Lady Joan had been, if he was being honest with himself. He could hardly condemn Lady Joan when he believed every word Robert ever told him. Now he was faced with having a niece who would probably never truly know where she belonged in the world. Lord Kettering had been correct; it was a bloody mess.

  Rosalind awoke, feeling that something was amiss and reached out to touch Peter. The cool feel of the pillow told her how long it had been since he left her bed. She rose and wrapped her dressing gown around her, feeling the chill of the night air as she opened the door to her dressing room.

  She entered the sitting room quietly and paused; Peter sat, staring into the fire, his glass resting gently on his lips, his banyan hanging loosely around him. Rosalind would never tire of looking at him: he was a handsome man; he was so large and yet so gentle in his ways. The sight of him stirred something deep within her. He was someone who cared deeply, a protector, and she knew exactly what was troubling him. She quietly approached the chair and sat on the arm, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his. She did not say anything, just waited until he was ready to speak.

  “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said eventually.

  Rosalind smiled slightly; as usual he was putting her needs above his. “I miss you when you are not there,” she said quietly, stroking his hair. The movement made Peter relax into her, placing his glass on the occasional table to his left. “I’m sure the visit will go well,” she reassured him.

  “I don’t know how I will feel,” he admitted. “I am dreading it and looking forward to it at the same time; it makes no sense.”

  “Of course it does,” Rosalind responded. She did not feel close enough to her husband and moved round until she sat on his knee. Her arms held him close, and she kissed him when he smiled at her, his eyes sparkling. “You cared about your brother; it is normal to feel apprehension at seeing his child,” she reassured him.

  “I can ignore the fact that Robert thought so little of me that he used me,” Peter said quietly, his pained expression showing how the evidence of Robert’s low opinion had affected him. “In some respects I can accept that Lady Joan was also a little at fault for her actions. She could have waited until he came back from his trip before they became intimate; although to be fair to her, Robert usually did what he wanted. She probably did not have much choice when faced with Robert at his most charming.”

  “He just sounds like a person who was completely enamoured with himself,” Rosalind said in disgust.

  “Oh, he was, he was charming whenever he wanted to achieve an aim,” Peter said. “I would have done more if I’d realised what was happening. Ultimately, he seduced an innocent girl from a respectable family.”

  Rosalind had some difficulty imagining Lady Joan other than the spiteful, creature that had graced her drawing room, but she had to be fair. “She has already paid for her foolishness; hopefully she can find someone who will make her less bitter.”

  “He must have known that there was a risk that she could be with child,” Peter said sadly. “His actions had consequences that those of us left behind will be dealing with for the rest of our lives.”

  Rosalind was a little surprised at Peter’s words. “Do you not want to acknowledge Mathilda?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course; but is it wrong to also feel angry?” Peter asked not meeting Rosalind’s gaze.

  “Go on,” Rosalind said gently.

  “I left home with plans, not great ones, but plans for how I wanted my life to be and Robert, even more than father, put paid to that. He had the opportunity to do as I did: marry
someone with money and sort everything out, but he wouldn’t; he was too intent on gratifying his own selfish needs to think of Annie and me. So, we are faced with the mess he left behind,” Peter said bitterly.

  Rosalind knew the anger was not focused towards her, but she could not help her heart sinking at his words. Part of the restriction that Peter was suffering from was being tied to her, and she would be foolish to think that he loved her. He cared about her, of that there was no doubt, but she wished that things could have been different and he could love her just for being who she was. She could not examine her feelings at that moment; she would probably have started to feel much worse, so she pushed aside her own longing for love and concentrated on her husband.

  “It will work out,” she soothed. “It is still strange, but once you have met her and she has moved into her new home, everything will settle down. It will be well, I promise you.”

  Peter smiled slightly, kissed her gently on the lips. “Thank you for putting up with my maudlin mood,” he said softly.

  “It’s about time someone cared for you,” Rosalind said. She decided that there was only one way that she could soothe Peter. She leaned towards his ear. “Come back to bed,” she whispered, still flushing at being forward towards her husband.

  Peter looked at Rosalind, his eyes dilating slightly, “I can’t sleep,” he said, not wanting to mistake Rosalind’s meaning.

  “I was hoping not,” Rosalind said before moving to kiss Peter passionately.

  That was the cue for Peter to stand, carrying Rosalind in his arms and head back to the bedchamber, all thoughts of family troubles forgotten.

  *

  Peter and Rosalind rode out in the phaeton for their first visit to Mathilda. Peter wanted to stop staff speculation for the moment and wanted to travel without his coachman. Luckily it was a fine day, so the trip was pleasant. Rosalind had searched the nursery for toys and had found an old doll of Annie’s that was suitable for a younger child. They travelled in companionable silence, Rosalind being aware that Peter would not want inane chatter on the journey.

  They arrived at the small cottage on the edge of the village. Three children played in the garden; Rosalind heard the sharp intake of breath from Peter and did not need to ask if they had arrived at the correct house. Rosalind presumed the small girl with light brown curls was Mathilda. The child’s features were sharp, reminiscent of the portrait of Robert but also of Lady Joan’s features. The chubbiness of babyhood helped to soften the harshness that both her parents had. The arrival of the phaeton attracted the attention of the eldest boy, who ran inside to notify the adults that visitors had arrived.

  A middle-aged woman came to the gate and nodded in acknowledgement; she had been told by Lady Kettering to expect their visit.

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace,” the woman said curtsying. “Welcome to our home. I’m Mrs Moss.”

  “Thank you,” Peter said, after making his bow.

  Rosalind smiled at the woman in encouragement; it was obviously a difficult meeting for them all.

  “Please come in,” Mrs Moss said, opening the gate. The pair followed the woman into her cottage. She led them down a small hallway and into a parlour. It was sparsely furnished, but what furniture was there was of good quality. “I shall send Mathilda in first and then bring in some refreshments,” Mrs Moss explained.

  Mathilda was duly brought to the door and encouraged to enter the room. Rosalind felt Peter stiffen at her side and decided that it was better if she took control. “Hello,” she said gently to the child.

  “Lo,” Mathilda replied, her thumb firmly in her mouth.

  “We’ve brought you a present; would you like it?” Rosalind asked, bending over so she was at the same height as the little girl.

  Mathilda nodded and hesitantly approached the pair. Rosalind had to acknowledge that Lady Joan and Robert may have both had poor characters, but they had certainly produced a pretty child. She had light curly brown hair, natural ringlets framing her face. Her eyes were a clear hazel, but quite large and stunning when opened wide as they were when taking in the strangers. Her lips had a slight natural pout, just like her uncle, obviously a family trait, Rosalind mused.

  She held the doll out to Mathilda who shyly took hold of it, glancing at it before holding it close to her chest. The thumb stayed firmly in place. “Ank you,” she replied, the words being muffled because of the thumb.

  “You’re welcome,” Rosalind said with a smile. “Would you like to bring your new doll and sit on my lap?” Rosalind asked. Mathilda nodded and walked over to Rosalind, who lifted her onto her knee.“I’d like you to meet your Uncle Peter, Mathilda; isn’t he tall?”

  Peter had remained silent through the exchange but had smiled at Rosalind’s words. “Hello Mathilda,” he said quietly.

  “Lo,” came the reply.

  “Would you like Uncle Peter to see your doll?” Rosalind asked.

  Mathilda nodded and handed Peter the doll. Peter looked at Rosalind a little at a loss as to how to react, so Rosalind intervened. “Ah, dolly,” she said and pretended that Peter was cuddling the doll. If she was not aware of how uncomfortable her husband was, she would have laughed out loud. As she pushed the doll to Peter’s chest, she could feel how stiff he was holding his body.

  Mathilda seemed to enjoy the game and soon took the doll from Rosalind, copying the action and words that she had observed. The game was interrupted only when Mrs Moss entered the room with a tea tray.

  “Mama, dolly,” Mathilda said, wriggling away from Rosalind. Peter and Rosalind looked at each other when Mathilda uttered the word ‘Mama’.

  Mrs Moss noticed the exchange and smiled slightly, “She repeats what the other children say; it is just a word.”

  “If you have cared for her since her birth, you are her mama,” Rosalind said quietly.

  Mrs Moss sat down, and Mathilda immediately clambered on to her knee, replicating the new game. Mrs Moss smiled at the child before turning back to the visitors. “She feels like mine, but I know I have to give her back.” The words were said quietly, and it was obvious that it was something she did not wish to do.

  “We will compensate you for what you have done for her, she is a lovely child,” Peter said.

  “I didn’t take her on as a way to gain riches; I’ve had enough to provide board, food and clothing for her,” Mrs Moss replied, a little defensively.

  “I know, but you took her in when no-one else was in a position to; I want to give you a gift as a thank you,” Peter insisted, but his words were not said in the tone of the rich aristocrat: they were uttered with the shame of someone whose relatives had let so many people down.

  “As you wish, but it won’t replace her,” Mrs Moss said. “I’d thought she would be with us forever, but Lady Kettering has informed us that she wishes Mathilda to live with her. It will be to the child’s benefit, so I won’t argue. She will have a different life with more opportunities living with them.”

  Rosalind felt for the woman. “You are very brave; I could not give up one of my children even if they would benefit from the move,” she said quietly.

  Peter shot Rosalind a look; it was the first time she had ever mentioned children, but he could understand her sentiments. She had virtually raised her sisters and was fiercely protective of them.

  The visit lasted only a little while longer; the visitors spoke to Mathilda again, but she wanted to go and play outside once more. They let her go; there was no gain to anyone forcing her to stay in a cramped parlour with strangers.

  Peter and Rosalind started their journey back to Sudworth Hall in silence; both were deep in thought. Peter eventually broke the silence. “I’m glad Robert is no longer with us; I think I would have to kill him if he were still here!”

  Rosalind smiled at her gentle husband. “I would help you. He has managed to cause so much upset; I’ve never known one person to have such a long-lasting effect.”

  “Thankfully some of the problems he left b
ehind have now been sorted out. There are no more debts, and the staff are happy. Once you have done your work on the house, it will be as if the Gilbert’s have never lived there, and I’m glad for it,” Peter said with feeling.

  “I’m a Gilbert,” Rosalind said quietly.

  Peter looked at her in surprise. “After all that you’ve learned about my family, I wouldn’t have condemned you if you never wanted the name associated with you. It is the Johnson side of the family that is ensuring the future,” he said honestly. He could never shake off the feeling that he would always be in her debt.

  “And all the hard work of the current Duke of Sudworth,” Rosalind gently reminded him. “Don’t throw all your heritage away, just because of two fools.”

  “You are far more magnanimous than I could be; I will curse my father and brother until I have no more breath to do so,” Peter said.

  “You aren’t the only one to have foolish relatives; don’t get me started on mine!” Rosalind smiled.

  “Would you like to invite your parents to stay?” Peter asked, admitting to a little curious about Rosalind’s parents. He knew that all the sisters communicated regularly: letters arrived and were sent almost daily. As far as he was aware, Rosalind had only communicated with her father twice regarding Annabelle’s stay and the other, more curious letter about Mr Wadeson.

  “No,” Rosalind responded, “my father is full of contradictions. He wants his daughters to marry the highest titles in the country, but he is more than happy to remain in his social sphere. He would not be able to talk business to the people he would meet if he stayed here, so it holds no interest for him,” she said confidently.