The Last Earl

by Lara Blunte

She was only twenty-one years old, but she already knew that happiness such as this could not possibly last.

  III. Five. A Departure

  Catherine had still not found the moment to tell Adrian about the child. However, something happened that changed everything.

  As they rode to Halford together one afternoon, she saw a lone horseman coming over the hill in their direction. She could not make out the man's features underneath his tall hat, but Adrian had suddenly stopped, surprise in his face.

  "It's Lloyd," he said under his breath.

  When the man got closer Catherine saw that it was indeed the mysterious Mr. Lloyd. She felt the blood drain from her.

  Adrian had given rein to his horse. As she sat immobile on hers, she watched him reach Mr. Lloyd, and saw the two men speak urgently to each other. At every change in Adrian's face, she felt her soul sinking further inside her body until her stomach began to hurt.

  He turned to look at her and she knew that something terrible was about to happen.

  That evening she had a note from him telling her he had had to leave, but asking her to expect his return within four days. Catherine told herself that there had been such notes before, and he had always returned. But she knew deep down that Mr. Lloyd had come with very important news.

  She knew it, and on the fourth day she sat at the piano in the winter room as the snow fell outside. Being with child hadn't made her ill at all, not for one day, but it had made her maudlin, and she found herself singing as she played.

  Porgi, amor,

  qualche ristoro

  al mio duolo

  a'miei sospir!

  O mi rendi

  il mio tesoro,

  o mi lascia almen morir!

  Grant, love, some relief to my sorrow, to my sighs…

  By the time she finished the aria, she knew that he was standing behind her. She could not stop the wild beating of her heart, or the feeling of misery rising in her.

  "I know you have come to tell me something. Say it, then," she managed to ask calmly, without turning around.

  She could see in the large mirror that he stood looking at the floor, and said nothing. Would he be silent, as he always was?

  "Tell me that you are leaving," she added in a hard voice that had had a cracked edge to it, an edge that she hadn't wanted him to hear.

  His face showed that he was also suffering, but he said simply, "I have to go."

  Catherine couldn't help herself, she stood up and moved towards the door to the garden, flinging it open. She ran over the snow in her red dress, faster and faster. She could hear him gaining upon her. He took her arm and spun her around.

  "Kate, I must do it! I don't want to, I have to!"

  "Don't think you owe me any explanations, not when you have never explained anything before. What is it to me, if you stay or go?"

  He drew her close to him and she buried her face in his neck and grabbed the fabric of his jacket with both hands.

  "Don't speak like this, Kate, please don't! If you only knew..."

  "But I don't know, do I?"

  He still held her to his chest, his cheek against her temple. "I can't tell you, it would only endanger you..."

  "Why would a man, whether he is alive or dead in Egypt, cause me any harm if I know of him? Why can't you just tell me what is happening, why are you leaving?"

  "I don't want to go!" Was all he said.

  There was a moment of silence as he rocked her and she left her face against his neck, because perhaps this would be the last she would ever have of him, even if she hated him for leaving. "Why is he so important to you?"

  "Don't ask me that, please believe that this is the most important thing that I shall ever do."

  "More important than happiness? Than life?"

  "There can be nothing if I don't do this!" he insisted, and she could hear the real anguish in his voice.

  "When will you return?"

  "I cannot say. I cannot promise!"

  "It might be a long time, then, like before?"

  "Yes, it might be a long time."

  Catherine saw that nothing would change his mind, and she would not tell him about the child. No, she would not tell him now, when something else was so much more important to him than she was.

  She walked backwards, pushing him away, leaving his embrace. "Then, go. Go!"

  Catherine turned from Adrian and ran back inside, her blood red skirt billowing behind her. Blindly she crossed the room and found the corridor, and kept running through it. It seemed so long, it had so many doors and windows, but she did not turn back. She knew that he was standing in the winter room and watching her, but that he had once again made no move to follow her, that he would accept to lose her.

  

  She sat alone for hours in her room, even as night fell, and sent the footman away when he came in to light the candles. Bitterness almost overwhelmed her.

  Would that she had never met Adrian, would that he had never returned. She hated and despised him, because she knew that she would have to live without him, and it seemed impossible. She didn't care at that moment about her name, her reputation, the shame that giving birth to a bastard child would bring her.

  Her passion for him was so overwhelming that she might as well have a dagger in her hand and sit plunging it into her chest every time she thought that he was gone forever.

  Something must be done! Something must be done to keep him with her!

  Her brain began concocting a wild scheme, and the more she thought of it, the less wild it seemed.

  When Lady Ware came to find her, she was lighting the candles herself.

  "Kitty, I have just heard the most vexing news! I am told by Mrs. Thompson ─ she delivers the food at Halford, you know─that Adrian is leaving England again and does not plan to return for a long time! When I was made to think─"

  "That Adrian would marry me?" Catherine asked in a soft voice.

  "Then he has asked you? But why should he go on a long journey after asking for your hand? I cannot understand! What I would like to know," said Lady Ware, showing some signs of temper, "is whether it is to be announced that you are engaged. For it seems strange to announce it, when the bridegroom is leaving! What I would like to know is whether or not I may speak about it to Father Wright!"

  Catherine almost laughed, but instead she embraced her mother, kissing her cheek. "No, don't speak of it just yet, darling mama. Not just yet."

  

  Catherine spent two nights writing and rewriting a letter to her mother. When she finally thought that it said what she needed to say she had to write it again, because the paper had become sodden with her tears.

  What she was about to do was heinous; she knew exactly how much suffering she was about to inflict on the person she loved the most in the world. And yet she could not do otherwise. She told herself (and her mother) that what she was doing was necessary for everything to end happily. She had been foolish and she was putting it right, and Lady Ware was not to worry or fret, but was to trust that she would be home in a few months, a happily married woman bringing her a grandchild.

  She wrote another letter to Lady Reville where she exposed more facts. She begged the old lady to assist Lady Ware and to convince her to return to Paris, as her departure would leave her poor mother in a maelstrom of gossip and malice.

  On the morning of the 30th of November, she took the train to Southampton with Henriette. She arrived at her destination in the evening, hired two rooms at the best inn, bespoke a private parlor and received a gentleman there for ten minutes.

  She was informed by her visitor that a man called Nolan had bought passage on the Gravina, a Spanish ship bound for Constantinople. A passage had been procured for her under the assumed name of Catherine Nolan, and she was to travel as Mr. Nolan's sister. The Gravina left the next morning at seven. She thanked him, paid him for his services and dismissed him.

  Catherine hardly slept that night. She sat by the window for hours and
watched the unruly sea that was soon to bear her away. At dawn she washed and dressed with the help of her weeping maid and took a moment to comfort her. They hadn't been apart for a single day in six years.

  Henriette walked all the way to the ship arm in arm with her mistress; both women had veils lowered over their faces.

  "Ma douce Henriette," Catherine sobbed, kissing her. "Stay by mama's side! She will suffer so!"

  "How could you think I would ever leave her?"

  Catherine laughed amidst her tears, "I can't help but think that John might soon be asking you an important question..."

  "It doesn't matter, madame, I shall never stir from her side until you come back. And then I shall never stir from yours."

  It was hard to let go, when the girl had been her most loyal friend for so long. But eventually Catherine detached herself from Henriette and boarded the vessel. She couldn't bear to look back, though she knew Henriette was still there and would stay until the ship sailed, in spite of the biting wind.

  She asked to be shown her cabin immediately, begged not to be disturbed and knew she would not show her face aboard until the ship was at high sea.

  III. Six. At Sea

  It was the afternoon of the next day before Captain Domingo was at leisure to mingle a little with his passengers.

  He found most of them on deck, for it was an unusually mild December day along the coast of Spain. Soon they would be going by Finisterre, the jutting cape that Romans thought was the end of the world, and the skies would be turning black. So, as a good Spaniard, he took advantage of the sun and said a word here and another there to the passengers, and then he turned towards Mr. Nolan.

  The man stood apart from the rest, watching the horizon as if he expected to see mermaids. He did not look friendly, this Mr. Nolan, but Captain Domingo thought it fit to direct some pleasant, meaningless remark at him as well and approaching him, said, "Ah, Mr. Nolan! I see you are alone. Your sister is still feeling sick? May we deliver anything else to make her comfortable, tea or some soup?"

  Mr. Nolan frowned and replied dryly, "You mistake, sir."

  "I do? Is Miss Nolan about then?" Captain Domingo asked looking around.

  "What do you mean by speaking of a Miss Nolan?"

  Captain Domingo thought that in his excessive English reserve Mr. Nolan was taking it amiss that a man should ask after his sister. Domingo took a step back, bowed and said, "I am sorry if I offend…" and went on his way unruffled.

  Mr. Nolan came after him with a look of horrified understanding and took him by the arm, "What is the number of her cabin?"

  Domingo thought it strange that he should ask, but replied, "Three." He watched as Mr. Nolan made his way over the deck towards the cabins with thunder on his face.

  Catherine had been gathering courage to come out since the ship had left England, but she had also wanted them to be at high sea so as to make it less likely that he would send her back. When Adrian knocked at her door, however, she could not help but flinch. She squared her chin and unlocked the door, stepping quickly back into the room as he came in.

  "Catherine! What the devil are you doing?"

  She had never seen him so furious, and she put herself behind the table instinctively. Her face was white, but far from subdued. "I am doing the only thing I could do, under the circumstances."

  "What bloody circumstances?"

  She was calm again, and faced him with hard eyes. "What did you expect me to do, stay in England and put up with ridicule for the rest of my life?"

  He snorted, "Ridicule?"

  "Perhaps you've been living in wild places for too long and you've forgotten what society is like."

  "I haven't forgotten!” He was scowling at her. “No one knows what happened between us except people who will never talk. Leaving with me is the real scandal."

  She could not bring herself to speak about the child, not yet. She shrugged. "I disagree."

  Still trying to restrain his temper, he said, "I have not left England for my amusement, Catherine. I told you there is something I must do."

  "Oh, yes, the great 'something.' I've been closer to you than anyone these past months and you've never told me one thing, not one, of what your life has been for eight years. You wake up in terror, you're covered with scars and all I get when I ask anything is...evasiveness."

  "Why do you think I'm covered in scars, Catherine?" he asked in a low hoarse voice. She could see he was very near an edge he had never crossed. He walked in her direction and though the look in his eyes made her want to back away, she told herself to stand her ground. "Because I've killed men. Not in war, not for the great British empire, not from a distance with a rifle. I've killed them with my hands or with a knife when they were as close to me as you are now."

  She stood face to face with him as she sought to control her fear. "It's not true."

  "Oh, finding out about my scars is not a parlor game anymore if there was a dead man each time, is it?"

  "You won't frighten me!"

  His eyes were cold. "You're frightened already. You should be. You should be frightened out of your mind."

  "I am not! I don't believe you!"

  He grabbed her by the arms and shook her, "Then go back to England and don't follow me."

  "Can't you see I am with child?" she cried out.

  Adrian let go and stepped back, staring at her. She felt suddenly exhausted and sank into a chair, saying, "You left so quickly... I wasn't prepared for it...What was I supposed to do?"

  He still looked very pale. "Why did you not tell me before I left?"

  "What good would it have done? You said what you had to do was more important than anything else."

  "For heaven's sake, I would have married you..."

  "I don't want to marry you," she lied.

  He shook his head: "We are way past what you want now. We must get married."

  His words put her back up. He thought he could resolve her like a problem. "I have not come on this journey to force you to marry me," she said finally. "I've had a taste of freedom and I shall manage my life from now on. I see no reason why I might not do it."

  "You might, if you were not expecting my child,” he said forcefully.

  "I hope that doesn't make you think that you have any rights over me?"

  "It makes me think you are in mortal danger, and that you don't realize it. I must put you somewhere safe, in spite of yourself. "

  "I am going to Constantinople," she said stubbornly.

  "Don't be absurd, Catherine. What about Aunt Helen ─ Will you break her heart in this way?"

  Catherine flushed. He had no right to mention Lady Ware; not when they had both lied to her for months, not when he had had no scruples before. "Don't speak of my mother!"

  "She is frail and depends entirely on you and yet you can leave her!"

  "Don't speak of her!" she shrieked.

  "You don't know what you're getting into!" he shouted back at her.

  "I do know! I won't be left behind with your bastard!"

  He flinched at the word and then his eyes went dead. Without another word he walked out of the cabin and shut the door behind him, leaving her with a mixed feeling of victory and regret.

  III. Seven. The Truth

  By that evening Catherine realized that she must go to him. She must demand the truth now: he couldn't hide it anymore, not when she was about to become the mother of his child.

  If she were in true danger she must know why and from what source: it was her right.

  She covered herself with a cloak and took a lamp to light the way to Adrian's cabin. There she knocked on the door and called him, asking to be let in.

  For a few moments she thought he would refuse to open, but suddenly, without any warning, the latch was lifted from the inside. She pushed the door, walking in slowly. He had moved to the table and turned to look at her with the feverish eyes she had seen at Halford on the day they met.

  "You are drunk!" she cried almost indig
nantly.

  One side of his mouth went up in a humorless smile. "I'm only preparing myself to tell you what you've wanted to hear all this time."

  She had wanted to know his secrets for so long that now she was startled. He motioned her to sit and she did so after hesitating for a second, feeling a mixture of curiosity and fear.

  He sat across from her and took a deep swig from the bottle that was on the table. Putting it down, he said, "I want you to hear everything and when I'm done, I want you to think of the child, if you have no thought for yourself.”

  It took him a few moments, but he finally began to talk; his eyes were deep and troubled like the ocean outside. Catherine repressed a shudder when she realized that he was back at the castle, reliving the moment when he had found his family dead.

  "I arrived at Halford very early in the morning of mother’s birthday, it was still dark. The first person I went to find was James, because I saw the light beneath his door. We hadn't met in months and I was eager to see him. I was sure he would tell me about some mess or another he was in ─ he could make me laugh telling the mad things he did.

  "The murderer must have grabbed him by the hair to cut his throat and left him with his head hanging forward. I didn't understand what I was looking at, I thought he was asleep. But then, of course, there was all the blood…”

  Catherine could imagine the horror he had felt, as he went on, because she knew how much he had loved James.

  "I understood that my brother... my brother was dead ─ I think I just moved down the corridor to find my father. I did find him... a knife driven through his eye with such force it pierced his skull..."

  Adrian sighed and took another moment before he said, "And then I went to Nan's room... I never called her mother, I called her Nan, the way I pronounced ‘Anne’ as a child.” He stopped again for a long moment, and then he said, “I know I haven't spoken about her to you, just as you have not spoken to me about your father. I couldn’t stand to remember her the way she was, so full of life, so full of laughter. She always seemed like a girl, as if she had so much ahead of her… It was her forty-fifth birthday and I knew by then that she was going to be dead, but the worst thing ─"