Make-Believe Wife

by Anne Herries

  ‘Forgive me, my lord. I only wished to reassure the memsahib that she was with friends.’

  ‘So, you have returned to us,’ the man said and moved towards the bed. His dark eyes went over her. ‘You look better, but I see that you are still not truly well. Shulie will continue to care for you and we shall talk when you are better.’

  ‘Is it the ruby you seek?’ Roxanne asked, holding the sheets against her defensively as she looked at him. This man was very different to the thin and gangly young prince she’d known and admired as a child. ‘How is your family, sir?’

  ‘My father is sick and we fear his death. Before he dies he wishes to see the eye returned to its rightful place.’

  ‘The eye?’ Roxanne was puzzled. ‘I fear I do not understand, sir.’

  ‘You may think of it as merely a ruby, but to others it is a sacred thing—but I shall tell you the whole story when you are able to leave your bed.’ He turned to Shulie. ‘Bring Miss Rose Marie clean clothes and food. She is to be told nothing more until she is able to hear the story from me.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  Shulie approached the bed as the prince left the room. ‘My lord has spoken. Please do not ask questions, for I may not answer them. I shall bring food, water for you to wash and clothes. You will feel much better when you have eaten.’

  ‘Please, one thing,’ Roxanne said. ‘How long have I been here?’

  ‘You lay in a fever for ten days,’ Shulie said. ‘We feared you might die, but the honourable doctor has saved you. It was the will of the gods.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps,’ Roxanne said. She lay back against the pillows, closing her eyes as the woman left the room. Ten days. She’d been here ten days—but what had happened just before she was brought here? Someone had hit her on the head, knocking her unconscious—but where had she been and where had she been going?

  She could recall running away from her aunt and uncle just before her fifteenth birthday. Her father had written to tell her he would be home before Christmas and would be taking her to live with him.

  I’ve made my fortune here, Rose Marie, he’d written. It is time I came back to England to live and made a home for us both. The ruby will be the icing on the cake, though I have other jewels and money enough. Take good care of it, Rosie my love, for it is special.

  It was two days after her letter arrived that she’d heard her uncle telling her aunt what he planned for her as she went down to have afternoon tea.

  ‘She is old enough. He wants her and when he’s done with her he’ll put her to work for her living. She’ll not last long enough for her father to find her. If she doesn’t die of the whore’s disease, she’ll be beaten to death.’

  ‘Frank, you cannot do it,’ her aunt had protested. ‘Rose Marie doesn’t deserve to be treated that way.’

  ‘She should have given me the ruby when I asked her. It’s either the whorehouse or the river—make up your mind. My debts must be paid and that ruby will see us in comfort for the rest of our lives.’

  The past was so clear now. Her name was Rose Marie Pearson and her father’s name was Captain Peter Pearson. He’d been an Indian Army officer and then left the service to work for a rich maharajah, first to train his private army and then to teach his sons how to be gentlemen.

  When her gentle mother died of a fever, her father had sent her home to live with her aunt and uncle. He’d sent the ruby to her a year or so later with a special messenger he trusted. She had been so proud of being trusted to care for the jewel, but her aunt had seen her admiring it and demanded to know where it came from.

  ‘Papa sent it to me. He told me to take great care of it, because it is worth a small fortune.’

  ‘It is far too valuable to entrust to a young girl. Your father meant me to look after it for you, Rosie.’

  ‘No, Aunt. Papa told me to wear it inside my gown always and never be parted from it. If he’d wanted you to care for it, he would have sent it to you. He trusted me, not you and my uncle.’

  ‘How dare you speak to me that way?’

  ‘The ruby is mine. I shall not give it to you or anyone.’

  Even then, Rose Marie had not trusted her aunt and uncle. They had called her Rosie and she had disliked the name, but they had said her own was too fanciful. She’d known instinctively that if they once had the ruby they would keep it, but she had not dreamed they would kill her to get it. She’d run from them that very moment, clutching the ruby and in fear of her life.

  Roxanne’s mind was clear now and she recalled that she’d run until she could run no more. After that she’d wandered for days, perhaps weeks, always in fear of being caught, hungry, thirsty and cold. Then one night as it grew dusk a vagrant had attacked her and attempted to rape her. She’d fought him off and run away into the night with no more than a few scratches and bruises, but the smell of him had sickened her and she’d been terrified. She had not dared to approach anyone to ask for food and she had wandered, her stomach aching for want of food. She had fallen and hit the side of her head. After that she had been very ill. As she starved, her mind became hazy and she could recall nothing until Sofia found her and nursed her back to health. Sofia…Black Bob…Luke.

  The memories slotted into place one after the other. Tears trickled down her cheeks as the names came to her mind and everything became crystal clear. Now she remembered both the past and recent events. She recalled meeting Luke and falling in love with him and his grandfather.

  She loved Luke so very much, but he did not love her. He did not truly wish to marry her.

  What was she going to do? Prince Ranjit wanted his ruby back—but surely it was her father’s ruby? Roxanne did not believe that her father would have stolen the jewel from his employer.

  There was still a mystery here to be solved.

  Roxanne seemed to have vanished into thin air. No one had seen her. Luke was met with shakes of the head and blank faces wherever he enquired for her. With each day that passed he grew more desperate. If she were lost for ever, he did not know how he would live with himself. He must search and search until he found her.

  ‘No, sir,’ one innkeeper told him. ‘We did have a coach stop to change its horses on the day you mention. I recall it particularly because of the odd clothes the servant was wearing. They were foreigners, your lordship. The servant who arranged everything was wearing a white turban and inside the carriage I saw two women, but they were wearing odd clothes, too, and had veils over their faces. One was enveloped in a thick dark cloak, though it was a warm day. I did think that odd—also that she never moved or spoke.’

  ‘I see…’ Luke frowned as icy chills crawled over his body. ‘You did not notice anything else—any sign that one of the women was captive?’

  ‘I wasn’t allowed to speak to either of them, sir—but I did think that the one in the cloak seemed to be sleeping heavily; at least, that’s what it looked like from a distance.’

  ‘You have no idea of where the carriage was heading?’

  ‘I think one of them spoke of London, but I couldn’t say for sure, sir. It’s a while ago now. I doubt I’d have remembered anything if it hadn’t been for their clothes.’

  ‘Thank you, you may have provided a clue,’ Luke said and gave the man a gold sovereign.

  He was thoughtful as he left the inn. If the men who were searching for the ruby had captured Roxanne, they would know by now that she did not have it with her. What would they do next? Pray God they would not harm her.

  His search had widened the last few days and this was the first clue he’d discovered, but it was of little real worth to him. If Roxanne had been taken to London, it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. He must certainly make enquiries, but a team of agents would do that far more efficiently than he could, especially in his present state of mind. He could not concentrate long enough, his thoughts wandering to her smile, the touch of her hand and the knowledge that he felt devastated by her loss.

  He might do better t
o return to Hartingdon to discover whether or not a ransom had been demanded for Roxanne’s safe return. Luke was praying hard as he made his decision. He would retrace his steps, make certain that he hadn’t missed anything, but first he must send word to the agents who had worked for him on various occasions and instruct them to search for the mysterious owner of the carriage. Surely such a man and his servants could not hide themselves completely. If they were in the vicinity of London or its outskirts, his agents would find them.

  Luke saw the gypsy camp gathered on the common at the edge of Hartingdon woods. Suddenly, he recalled that Roxanne had been frightened of the man called Black Bob. It was possible that he had taken her. He might have been following the wrong theory all this time.

  Dismounting, he tied his horse to a bush and approached a woman who was stirring something in a large black pot on a trivet over a fire. She glanced at him suspiciously and called out to someone. A man came down from one of the caravans and stood looking at Luke as he walked up to her, his arms crossed and a menacing look in his dark eyes.

  ‘Good day, mistress,’ Luke said politely and doffed his hat to her. ‘I mean you no harm. I am looking for someone and wondered if you might help me?’

  ‘It depends whom ’tis you want, sir.’ The woman spoke in a voice that surprised him; looking closely, Luke was certain she was not a gypsy, as he’d first imagined.

  ‘The man I seek is named Black Bob and he leads a troupe of players—actors who perform all over the country.’

  ‘And what would you be wanting of him, sir?’

  ‘You’re not Romany,’ Luke said. ‘Your voice has a good resonance. I believe you are an actress—am I right? Did you know Roxanne? She lived with Sofia until her friend died.’ He saw a startled look in the woman’s eyes and knew that he’d touched a raw nerve. She did know Roxanne—or she had once. He moved towards her, taking hold of her arm. ‘You do know her. Is she here? Has he got her?’

  ‘Leave me be.’ The woman cried, a look of fear in her eyes now. ‘I don’t know this woman you speak of—leave me be.’

  ‘Leave her be.’ The man who had come out of the caravan moved towards Luke threateningly. ‘You take your hands off my woman or you’ll be sorry. You damned aristocrats think you own the world. If you persist, I’ll thrash the life out of you.’

  ‘I mean your lady no harm,’ Luke said and let his hand drop from her arm. He was armed with a loaded pistol, but had no wish to use it, for he would lose all chance of discovering Roxanne’s whereabouts then. ‘I do not fear to fight with you, sir—but I came here in peace. I am searching for Roxanne and I thought you might know of her.’

  ‘Clear off or I’ll bash your head in,’ the man said fiercely, but another man had come up to them and the first moved back out of respect or fear. ‘We’ve told him nothing, Bob.’

  ‘Quiet, fool,’ the tall dark-eyed man grunted. He scowled at Luke. ‘Run away from you, too, has she? She’s an ungrateful wretch and a thief. Has she taken something of yours?’

  ‘No. Roxanne is not in trouble with me. I am afraid her life may be in danger. Why do you call her a thief?’

  ‘He told me she had something that belonged to him.’ Black Bob’s eyes narrowed. ‘I saw it once before Sofia hid it—a huge ruby bigger than a pigeon’s egg. Stands to reason a girl like that weren’t the rightful owner of a valuable jewel. He told me if I knew where she was he would pay me so I gave him the direction of the house she was living in. Followed you, I did, out of curiosity. When they come looking for her I knew something didn’t smell right. There alus was somethin’ odd about the girl.’

  ‘Where is she? Have you got her?’

  ‘I ain’t got her. She’s got the mark on her—I wouldn’t have her now if she came crawling on her knees.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘She’s cursed. He told me that whoever has the ruby is cursed. Until it is returned to its rightful place the mark of doom is on anyone that touches it.’

  ‘Whoever this man is, he meant to scare you,’ Luke said scornfully. ‘Roxanne is not a thief. She was given the jewel to keep for someone. Tell me, was the man who offered you money for information an Indian?’

  ‘I reckon he might be. He were dressed much like you, a wealthy man—but his servants were dressed strange and their faces were darker than his. Some of them wore turbans on their heads and one had a curved sword hanging from his belt. They looked a strange lot and I didn’t trust them, though he paid me my money.’

  Luke inclined his head. He believed Black Bob was telling the truth. It tied in with what the innkeeper had said and pointed towards the ruby. Roxanne had been kidnapped because of that damned jewel.

  ‘If this man speaks to you again, tell him to come to me at Hartingdon. I shall give him what he wants, but first he must release Roxanne. If anything has happened to her I shall punish him—and you.’

  ‘All I done was tell him where he could find her.’

  ‘Roxanne was once one of your people. If you cared for her at all, you would have come to us and told us about this man instead of betraying her.’ Luke’s eyes flashed scorn. ‘You are a greedy rogue and deserved to be punished. I cannot prevent you from camping here, but I would not advise you to return once you leave.’

  He was furious as he mounted his horse and rode off. It had taken all his strength of will not to go for the man and give him a good hiding. Only the knowledge that there were more than a dozen men watching him prevented him from seeking physical revenge. The whole tribe would no doubt have set him on and it was more important to keep searching for Roxanne than to make a fool of himself by indulging in a fight merely for his own satisfaction.

  Feeling frustrated by his inability to discover Roxanne’s whereabouts and afraid of what might be happening to her, Luke rode towards his grandfather’s house. It was six days since he’d last visited. Perhaps there might be some news. The earl might have received a ransom note. He must speak to his grandfather before going out to search again, though he did not truly know where to look next. He’d tried every posting house, every inn and every village within a thirty-mile radius of the estate. He was beginning to think she must be in London—or, worse still, on a ship bound for India. Her beauty would be appreciated by certain men who thought nothing of holding women captive in their households.

  No! It must not be. The thought was so terrible that it tore him apart, a groan leaving his lips. Rumours and tales of the white-slave trade passed through his mind. Roxanne was so beautiful. Once this man had her, he might think she was of more value than that damned ruby.

  Roxanne looked at the clothes Shulie had brought her and smiled. She had wondered if she would be given something similar to the clothes her nurse wore, but instead she was being offered a beautiful silk gown of French design and make. As she slipped it on, her heart raced wildly. She had remembered more about Prince Ranjit and she seemed to recall that he was charming, but a little selfish, inclined to lose his temper if he did not get his own way. Yet as a child she had admired him, following him about and hanging on his every word. He had grown up to be a handsome man with an exotic and slightly dangerous air.

  What did he want to tell her himself? Why had he not allowed Shulie to tell her about the ruby?

  She decided to fasten her hair back in a severe knot at the nape of her neck, but, glancing at her reflection, Roxanne knew that it did not make her look any less attractive. The gown was so very elegant and flattering that she needed no jewels to appear to advantage.

  ‘The memsahib is beautiful,’ Shulie said and looked at her oddly. ‘My lord has always admired you—and I think he looks for another wife. I have been his wife for nine months and I have given him no sons.’

  ‘Nine months is not long,’ Roxanne said and smiled. ‘You do not need to fear me, Shulie. I would not seek to take your place. I am grateful for all you have done.’

  ‘My lord does not acknowledge the word no,’ Shulie replied and looked doubtful. ‘If h
e wants you, he will take you for his wife.’

  ‘At home Prince Ranjit may soon rule in his father’s place,’ Roxanne said. ‘This is England and he cannot take me as his wife against my will. Besides, I am already promised to another man. I am betrothed. I do not think Prince Ranjit would take the wife of another man.’

  ‘No, perhaps not, if you belong to another.’ Shulie’s face cleared and she handed Roxanne a spangled drape to wear over her head and shoulders. ‘If my lord wished you for his wife, I think I should not mind too much. You are lovely of nature as well as face; there are some who look for the honour who do not deserve it.’

  ‘Perhaps the prince will be satisfied to have just one wife.’

  Shulie shook her head sadly. ‘It is the custom for a man to take several wives. If I had given him a son, my place as his chief wife would be assured, but now he may put another in my place.’

  ‘You must make him understand it would hurt you. If he loves you, you will remain the first in his heart even if he takes other wives.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Shulie beckoned her. ‘We should not keep my lord waiting, memsahib. I know he will want you, but if you belong to another perhaps he will not insist that you become his wife.’

  Roxanne’s heart raced as she followed Shulie out of the room and along the hall. There was no point in thinking of trying to escape. She had no idea of where she was being held and the prince’s men would be watchful. They had not gone to the trouble of kidnapping and then nursing her when she was in a fever simply to allow her to escape. The prince wanted something. Roxanne must pray that it was only the ruby he required from her. She knew that Shulie believed he wanted her for his second wife, but Roxanne had no intention of being taken off to India to live in a harem as one of the prince’s wives.