The Bride Wore Scandal

by Helen Dickson

  It was with difficulty that she said, ‘I am indeed grateful to Lord Rockley. Please convey to him my thanks when next you meet.’

  ‘I shall indeed. Lord Rockley’s investigations have blown the whole sorry business wide open. Bucklow’s organisation is in ruins. He is an outlaw and will be caught. And who would have thought it—to use your own chambers here at Oakbridge as his base—and right under your brother’s nose. Why, the audacity of the man.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Christina murmured drily.

  ‘But then, I understand the chambers have not been used in a long time and although they are connected to the house, they are some distance away. I would not think your brother would have known what was going on. To suspect him of doing so when he has always behaved as a sincere friend to me would be a monstrous thing to do.’

  ‘Have you visited the chambers yourself, Sir John?’

  ‘I have—and they are so concealed as to have been ideal for Bucklow’s purpose. All manner of stolen goods—from jewels, paintings and silver to other costly treasures—were found there. All would fetch a tidy sum. If the horde is anything to go by, I imagine Bucklow has enriched the Jacobites by almost unbelievable wealth. The goods have now been removed and will be returned to their rightful owners. There is a tunnel connecting the chambers to the house, is there not, Miss Atherton?’

  ‘Yes—which William has recently had sealed up to deter any unwelcome visitors.’

  ‘Very sensible. Some of Bucklow’s cohorts have been rounded up—others have scattered to continue their foul deeds in another county, no doubt. Lord Rockley continues to search for Bucklow and at present is following a lead given to him by one of the criminals—hoping for leniency—that he has gone to London to wind up some unfinished business, before fleeing to France to join his fellow Jacobites. If that is the case, then good riddance is what I say. We have news that the young James Stuart has sailed from Dunkirk with a large contingent of French troops in nearly thirty ships, and that he is heading for Scotland.’

  ‘And what will that mean?’

  ‘Well, I can tell you that the British fleet and its intelligence service are not asleep. Already a strong British squadron has taken up its station. In London there is a certain panic, but everyone has rallied to the Queen. Knowing this, perhaps Bucklow will hide out somewhere and wait and see what happens next.’

  As Christina showed Sir John out of the house, she felt as if an enormous weight had just been lifted from her mind. Indeed, she likened the magistrate’s visit to a reprieve from a death sentence.

  * * *

  When Christina told William of Sir John’s visit and Lord Rockley’s attempt to absolve him from involvement in Mark Bucklow’s crimes, his melancholy vanished and his temper was restored, but his fear of Mark returning was never far away.

  The magistrate’s visit was immediately followed by the arrival of Squire Kershaw and his daughter, Miranda, who was dressed as always in the very height of fashion. With dark hair and deep brown eyes, Miranda Kershaw was a very pretty, happy and lively young woman. She was the precious only child of her widowed father, Squire Kershaw, a wealthy wool merchant in Cirencester supplying the clothing trade. Miranda had been granted as much access to life as she could have wished for. With perfect manners, excellent conversation, being much travelled and with highly developed powers of social observation, her talents made her therefore uniquely positioned to become William’s wife and mistress of Oakbridge.

  On entering the house, she stood for a moment in the doorway, looking around her, and before Christina could voice her welcome, a joyful William stepped forward to greet his betrothed.

  ‘Miranda! By all that’s wonderful!’

  There was a little scream from the delightful vision, then impetuous and rapturous, she ran forwards leaving a whiff of expensive perfume on the air as she passed Christina to fling herself at William, pressing her cheek to his.

  ‘Oh, William—my own dear, darling William,’ she enthused, pressing butterfly kisses all over his face. ‘I have missed you terribly. You have no idea how much.’

  For a moment both their voices merged together incoherently, both talking so quickly that it was impossible to differentiate what they said. Until, finally, straightening her bonnet, which had become disarranged in the excitement, Miranda stepped back and held out her hand to greet Christina, who stood beside Squire Kershaw, looking on with amazement.

  ‘Christina—how good it is to see you. I am so happy to be at Oakbridge at last—which I hope to make my home very soon. Indeed, Papa and I would like you to come with us to Cirencester for the wedding.’

  ‘Wedding?’ William repeated, unable to believe Miranda’s haste to bring about their union.

  ‘Yes, William, my love,’ Miranda cooed, stroking his face as if it were the most precious thing in the world to her. ‘I have counted every hour and every minute of our long separation, and I cannot bear to be apart from you any longer. All I want in life is you. When we were apart I thought I would die, I was so unhappy. And yet there was nothing I could do.’ She gave a deep sigh, as if the memory of her unhappiness still had the power to hurt her. ‘Do say you want what I want—for us to be married as soon as possible.’

  ‘But—of course—you know I do,’ William answered, the glow in his eyes almost dazzling. ‘Indeed, there is nothing in the world I want more, but—what of your father?’ he said, looking directly at his future father-in-law.

  ‘Papa is in agreement, is that not so, Papa?’ Miranda said, looking at her sire with her big, eloquent eyes.

  Squire Kershaw laughed lightly, holding up his hands in surrender, as he had done many times in the past. He would do almost anything to indulge this precious daughter of his. ‘I have no objections—none at all. I trust you have no objections, Miss Atherton?’

  ‘None whatsoever. I am so glad William will have Miranda to look after him—and keep him out of mischief.’ Her words, though spoken lightly, had more meaning than either Squire Kershaw or his daughter realised. A slight indignant flush swept over William’s face, but when he realised his sister wasn’t going to enlarge on her statement, he relaxed once more. ‘I am sure they will be very happy together.’

  Miranda laughed, a light tinkling sound. ‘I will let you into a little secret, Christina. I shall keep William very busy. A man who is busy has no time for mischief.’

  ‘Are you quite sure you don’t mind having a man for your husband whose wealth has taken a bit of a battering of late? If you are, it is what I want also,’ William said with a humility that Christina would not have expected of him. He looked at the portly gentlemanly looking on. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but the Oakbridge estate has seen better times and will do so again—only lately…’

  Squire Kershaw held up his hand. ‘Think nothing of it—we all suffer setbacks from time to time. Perhaps I can proffer some assistance in that direction, which we will discuss another time. All I know is that if you do not marry my daughter, then she will remain a spinster for the rest of her life.’

  ‘And what a tragedy that would be, my love,’ Miranda purred, placing her hand affectionately in William’s. ‘You would not wish that on me, would you, my love?’

  ‘Absolutely not, so I suppose there is nothing for it but for us to marry very soon,’ William murmured, kissing her hand once more.

  * * *

  They all travelled to the Kershaw residence in Cirencester for the wedding, which was a very happy, though quiet affair. It was attended by just close family and a handful of friends. On returning to Oakbridge, Christina found a letter waiting for her from her Aunt Celia. Knowing how Christina loved Oakbridge and the country, her aunt wrote that she did not imagine she could provide the variety of changes she sought, but on showing her niece the town and introducing her to new friends, she might not miss Oakbridge quite so much.

  As Miranda settled into her duties as mistress of Oakbridge, Christina found herself looking forward to her departure much more eagerly. In his new-foun
d happiness, William seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Mark Bucklow was still at large, and, until he was captured, posed a threat. Christina, however, was of a different mind. Mark believed they had betrayed him, and it would be a mistake to assume he would forget.

  * * *

  The testing time came when Mark rode boldly up to the front door at Oakbridge. Having seen him approaching from an upstairs window, Christina hurried downstairs and opened the door before he could dismount. He looked tired and unkempt, making Christina wonder where he had been hiding out—a thought she dismissed immediately. She really didn’t care.

  ‘What’s the matter, Mark? Have you run out of places to hide? Then again, if you have thieving on your mind, I suggest you leave right now. Thieves who break into other people’s houses hold no terror for me. We’re fresh out of valuables at this house, so you’ll be wasting your time.’

  ‘Feisty, unafraid and as spirited as ever, I see,’ he growled.

  ‘I haven’t changed, if that’s what you mean. What do you want?’

  He advanced his horse closer. His eyes narrowed and began to glitter dangerously. His smile was unpleasant. ‘I need somewhere to lay low for a while. Oakbridge is big enough to put me up for a few days.’

  His high-handed manner had an unexpected effect on Christina. She did not flinch before the barely concealed menace. Her shock on seeing him again gave way to anger rather than fear. How dare he come here? She had no intention of complying with his demands and she told him so. But with anger came prudence and she stepped back as he continued to nudge his horse forwards.

  ‘I told you. I need somewhere to hide. No one will think to look for me here.’ When he made a move to dismount, a voice rang out behind Christina.

  ‘Remain on your horse and leave.’ William appeared to stand beside his sister, a pistol in his hand. ‘You are not welcome here.’

  Mark shrugged unconcernedly. ‘And you think I care about that, do you, William? You know me.’

  ‘Aye, I know you. You’re a wanted man.’

  ‘Only because you betrayed me, damn you.’

  ‘William didn’t betray you,’ Christina told him coldly. ‘No one did.’

  Mark’s eyes shifted from William to Christina. ‘I know you went running to Rockley. How else could he have known where to find me?’

  ‘I didn’t tell him. He must have followed me to the Black Swan Inn that day. But I told William that if you did not comply with my wishes and leave us alone, I would go to Lord Rockley and tell him everything.’

  ‘What else did you tell William?’ he sneered, shifting his gaze to her brother. ‘Did she tell you how I nearly had my way with her? She looks real fetching when she’s all worked up. There’s no one I ever saw that has her beauty. And she’s more resourceful than most. It’s only thanks to Rockley’s timing that she got away from me—slippery as an eel, she is.’

  William’s lips twisted with contempt. ‘You’d be dead now if you had taken her. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from her in the future. It wrenches my gut to think I unwittingly had any part in your Jacobite affairs. To steal from people and instil fear into them is one thing, but your plot to kill the Queen and install the Catholic James on the throne was insane. You are not welcome at Oakbridge. Leave to whatever ends you might find—although I would advise you to have a care. Lord Rockley is still looking for you. If you don’t want him to find you, you’d be advised to find a deep, deep hole in which to hide in. Otherwise I shall send for the magistrate and let him deal with you.’

  ‘Like hell you will,’ Mark snarled beneath his breath. ‘Damn you, Atherton. I’ll kill you first, you clever young pup.’

  So saying, Mark swiftly produced a pistol from beneath his coat, but before he could fire, William had raised his own and fired, sending Mark’s pistol crashing to the ground. Mark looked from the pistol to William, completely startled. It was apparent from the surprise on his face that he hadn’t thought William had it in him to shoot anyone. It came as a shock to him to find that he wasn’t just pursuing a helpless woman, but a gutless boy transformed to a spirited man, as well.

  It was only when Mark clutched his shoulder that Christina realised that he’d been hit and only remained in the saddle out of sheer determination. Glowering at them both, without another word he dragged his horse round and rode away.

  ‘Let’s hope we’ve seen the last of him,’ William said, placing an arm about Christina’s waist. ‘With any luck, Rockley will catch up with him before he escapes to France.’

  Christina looked at her brother, admiring the way he had just asserted himself. He had become more sure of himself of late. She noticed his own pride in his accomplishments and knew she had Miranda to thank for bringing him out of his shell. She had given him understanding and love, and the will to stand on his own two feet and stop blaming others for his state.

  * * *

  It was the feeling of nausea that first alarmed Christina, its continuation making her feel thoroughly wretched. It happened all the time now. At first she thought she was sickening for something, then, as the tenderness of her breasts became apparent, the idea that she was with child, that she was carrying Simon Rockley’s child, hit her like some cold, unwelcome shock wave.

  In her innocence, she had not thought of this. As she had lain under him, she had not considered the consequences of his act. She had thought the failure of her monthly cycle to be because she was upset with everything that had happened. But now she knew differently. Choking back a sob of great agitation, she knew she was going to have a baby—a baby, by the man who had accused her of terrible things, had called her a whore before ravishing her and discarding her so cruelly.

  There was no doubt whatsoever in her mind. How stupid and naïve she had been. She should have expected this from a man like him. Strong and full blooded, he had impregnated her with an ease she found maddening.

  Slowly the wretched tears began to flow. She wrung her hands together. What could she do? How could she tell William? Everyone would know in a few months of her pregnancy. What would they say? People would say that she was a wanton woman, a strumpet—unless she went to a retreat somewhere where she could hide away for the rest of her life. Or she could go to her aunt in London right away. Faced with a situation she did not know how to deal with, the mere thought of her sensible, level-headed Aunt Celia raised her spirits. She would tell her what to do.

  Chapter Eight

  Aunt Celia, Christina’s mother’s sister, was also her godmother. She had married wisely and well a man with a high position in the government, who had died young. With no children of her own and no desire to marry again, at the demise of her sister, Celia had taken Christina under her wing. Indeed, she had wanted Christina to live with her ever since her father had died. Being of slight build, with a face that had once been beautiful and an abundance of snow-white hair for ever escaping its pins, Celia had a cool head about her. She was also warm, open and affectionate. But no matter how open-minded her aunt was, Christina knew that when she made her confession it would have its painful moments.

  She occupied a very pleasant town house overlooking Green Park. It was somewhat old fashioned in its furnishings, but Christina had spent some very pleasant times here as she had been growing up, so both these qualities endeared the house to her.

  Leaving the servants to unload Christina’s baggage, Celia conducted her into the house, gazing at her in delighted astonishment, her kindly blue eyes twinkling at her. ‘It has been too long since I last saw you, Christina—too long—and now look at you. You are even more lovely that your mother, beauty that she was. I am so glad you are here and that you have taken me up on my offer to make this your home. We shall have so much fun together. But good heavens, lovely you are, but so pale. Let me kiss you.’

  And she did, taking her niece in her arms and hugging her with an enthusiasm that left their mutual feelings in no doubt.

  ‘Come and sit by the fire and let me look
at you. My maid will bring us refreshment and you can tell me all about Oakbridge and William’s marriage to Miss Kershaw. How exciting it must have been. I’m so glad he’s settled down at last. I also want to know what you have been doing.’

  Christina smiled a little nervously. The moment she dreaded had arrived. She was determined to face up to it at once, without any attempt at prevarication. Over the years her aunt had become someone very dear. She deserved to be told the truth. Besides, she, Christina, longed to confide in someone, and she had no one else.

  ‘The story I have to tell may not be to your liking, Aunt Celia.’

  Settling herself into her chair on the opposite side of the hearth, Celia dismissed Christina’s words with a wave of her hand. ‘Nonsense. I am passionately fond of stories. Take as long as you like. We have plenty of time. I will hear you to the end.’

  ‘You cannot imagine the things that have been going on at Oakbridge since we parted. Indeed, there are times when I wonder if it was really true or just a dreadful nightmare.’

  Celia sat forwards in her chair. Her sharp eyes saw that all was not as it should be, that something serious troubled her lovely niece, and it had nothing to do with leaving her beloved Oakbridge. ‘What do you mean? I am beginning to worry. What has happened to you, child?’

  ‘I will tell you,’ Christina said quietly. ‘It will not be easy—and afterwards you might want to send me packing back to Oakbridge.’

  ‘Then you do not know me. Come, now, Christina, I will not be put off.’

  And so Christina told the whole sorry story, telling her aunt of William’s gambling, his debts, and how he had fallen into the company of Mark Bucklow and its dire consequences. The words seemed to come of their own accord and in the telling of all she had been through, Christina felt as though some of the burden was lifted, but William’s behaviour brought condemnation from her aunt.