The Kent Heiress

by Roberta Gellis

  He straightened up. “It wasn’t the battle, Brina. It’s us. We’ve been lucky, but I’d better not stay here.”

  “I don’t think you have much choice,” she said. “I think every place is full.” Her voice trembled a little on the words.

  At first he didn’t answer, just staring at her face, but then he shook his head. “It’s no good, Brina. If I stay I’ll have you in that bed again in no time. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I want you all the time.”

  She blushed faintly, but didn’t look displeased. In fact, she looked much happier. The passive attitude was very provocative, and Perce limped over to her and took her in his arms.

  “You have to stay,” she said softly. “If you don’t, they’ll quarter troops on us. Charlot told me that someone had been here already. Luckily, Sergei went to the door and said we were full. It will only be a few days.” Her voice trembled again.

  Perce tilted down the face raised so invitingly to his and pressed his lips to her hair. “We must be sensible then,” he sighed, “at least until you talk with Roger. There just isn’t any sense in losing whatever chance you have for an annulment.”

  “All right,” she conceded. “We can go down to the sitting room. I’ll get you some socks and slippers, but what you’ll do for nether garments I don’t know. Your breeches haven’t come yet, and anyway, you can’t wear breeches because you can’t get those feet into boots. You can’t wear William’s pantaloons; they’d be too short.”

  “For right now it doesn’t matter if they’re short,” he interrupted sharply, moving away from her.

  Sabrina looked at him and giggled.

  “Go and get me those goddamned pantaloons!” Perce roared.

  Sabrina fled, laughing.

  Once established in the sitting room where Charlot seemed to be popping in and out every few minutes with questions about how, where, and what was to be packed, the sexual tension between them diminished. A visit by Sir Robert in the evening to discuss the military situation as Perce understood it further eased the tension by directing their minds to other matters of great importance. Although Sir Robert was not as pessimistic as Perce, he agreed most heartily that Lord Kevern must remain with General Bennigsen.

  Sabrina did not protest. She was accustomed to accepting what Perce said as wisdom and was already resigned to the separation. All she wanted to be reassured of was that there would be no more fighting, and in this she obtained satisfaction. There might be some small skirmishing Sir Robert said, but the general’s staff would not be involved in that. He did not believe that there would be a major action again until spring. That would be two or three months, Sabrina told herself and anything might happen before then to keep Perce safe.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Sabrina told Perce that she intended to end her marriage, she had not considered that she would be returning home at the beginning of the London social season. She had managed with effort to resist telling William on the trip that she desired an annulment. There had been a mild confrontation. William had requested one cabin to be shared, and Sabrina had made it plain that she and Katy would exchange accommodation if he insisted on that arrangement. When she convinced him she was serious, he had secured another cabin for himself, but he was furious.

  Fortunately a ship was no place to try to tame one’s wife, and William’s stay in London was going to be brief. There was no sense in trying to cancel the rental of his own house. Instead, they stayed with Roger and Leonie. Naturally, William would not dare try any form of coercion in the vicinity of Sabrina’s doting foster parents, and from Sabrina’s point of view the situation had the additional advantage of making her estrangement from her husband nakedly apparent. Leonie knew already, of course, and Roger was not much surprised, having observed William’s behavior when last the Elvan’s were in England. He knew Sabrina’s character and upbringing. He knew she would not accept such behavior in a husband any more than Leonie would. His only doubt was what Sabrina wanted to do about it.

  This doubt was not resolved immediately. William was absorbed by his duties and in continual conferences between the War Office and the Foreign Office which had differing views of the situation. Sabrina was too good an Englishwoman to intrude her personal affairs into a national problem. Besides that, she was instantly snatched up into the social-diplomatic whirl. The very day after she arrived, footmen appeared in veritable droves bearing notes that included her in invitations to every fashionable affair of the Season.

  William set out for Königsberg again at the end of the first week in March, in an angry and dissatisfied frame of mind that had little to do with his wife. He had scarcely given Sabrina a thought since they arrived in England. What troubled him was that he had very little more to offer the Prussians than what Lord Hutchinson had originally been empowered to suggest. Despite his strongest representations and Lord Hutchinson’s vigorously worded letters and reports, Windham would not be moved. He had committed his forces to schemes dear to his heart, and he insisted that the few men England could send would be useless because Russia had more than sufficient manpower. Moreover, he claimed, British troops might be misused because of animosity. William’s explanation that the need was one of morale, that the Russians and Prussians needed to be assured that the English were doing their fair share, was summarily dismissed.

  Although she longed to be nearer Perce, Sabrina was not so foolish as to propose going with her husband. She would be a danger to him and a worrisome distraction to Perce, who had already told her more than once that she should on no account return. She had had a letter from him, written immediately after the battle of Ostrolenka, to assure her he had not been involved in the conflict, and two more pages with general news. A month after William left, there was another letter. The first had been directed to William’s house and sent over to Leonie’s by the current tenants, the next two had been simply addressed to Sabrina at her cousin’s, but the last had been addressed to Leonie under a separate cover that requested it be given to Sabrina privately and personally.

  It was apparent from the first words why the letter was directed where there was no chance of William seeing it. There was no news in it, no reason for writing, only a passionate outpouring of love and longing. Sabrina looked up at Leonie who, after passing her the letter, was paying more than the usual strict attention to her own correspondence.

  “Do you think it will be possible for Roger to obtain an annulment of my marriage?” Sabrina asked.

  “Perce?” Leonie responded. “It is Perce?” She had suspected as much when Sabrina had last been home, but had felt it imperative not to intrude into her cousin’s life.

  “Yes,” Sabrina admitted calmly. She had not intended to involve Perce if it were possible, but by sending a letter to Leonie in that manner, he had betrayed himself. “It’s quite dreadful that neither of us should have realized it before I met William, but I suppose we were too accustomed to each other.”

  “Dieu! Bon Dieu,” Leonie breathed. “I do not know, petite. Is William willing?”

  “I have no idea. I was going to speak to him about it on the ship coming home, but Perce said not to do so until I could discuss the matter with Roger. Leonie, do you think, he will be very angry?”

  Leonie felt startled. “Do you care whether William is angry? If you do—”

  “Not William,” Sabrina interrupted. “I don’t care if he has an apoplexy, so long as he’ll grant me the annulment. I meant Roger. Will he think…I’m…bad?”

  “I am more worried that he will call William out than that he will think ill of you, petite,” Leonie assured her. “Last year, oh, he was furieux. He talked of horsewhipping to mend William’s manners. It was only that I talked and talked and told him that William was nécessaire, that he was one of the few who still believed in the war.”

  “I don’t want William’s manners mended,” Sabrina said firmly. “I want Perce. But if I can’t get an annulment, I won’t know what
to do. Oh, Leonie, he’s Moreton’s heir. He must have a legitimate son. I could divorce William for adultery. It wouldn’t be hard to get evidence, but then I wouldn’t be able to marry Perce.”

  Leonie shook her head. “Let us not begin to imagine difficulties. I do not know what can be done. Roger may not know either, but he will know to whom to speak. Somehow we will arrange.” Tears came to her eyes. “Ah, petite, petite, it is our fault—no, mine, all mine—”

  Sabrina cut short Leonie’s self-blame with the sharp remark that it was useless to worry about that and that they had been over it all before. “You must believe that I’m not leaving William because he hurt me,” she insisted. “If I wanted him, I would fight for him. I just don’t love him anymore. I realized that in Russia when I saw him starting an affair that I could have stopped, but it wasn’t worth the effort to me.”

  Leonie began to ask another question and bit it back, Sabrina smiled at her.

  “No,” she said, knowing what Leonie had resisted asking. “It wasn’t Perce then. I didn’t even know he was in Russia when I decided I didn’t want William any longer.”

  That was clear enough, but when the matter was presented to Roger, he seized on the pertinent problem at once. The question was, he remarked wryly, whether William wanted her. Sabrina had to reply honestly that, at the moment, he probably did not. However, the instant she said she wanted her freedom, there was a good chance William’s mind would change.

  “God knows I could get you a divorce—a mensa et thoro—with no trouble at all. It would even be to your advantage if he contested, but that wouldn’t do you any good. You wouldn’t be able to marry.”

  Roger had not been told about Perce. Both Leonie and Sabrina, although for different reasons, felt it was better he should not know there was already another man. Neither was concerned that he would overlook the need of a healthy twenty-year-old to remarry, and of course he had not.

  “And a dissolution act by Parliament… I don’t know, Brina. I don’t think they’ve ever given one to a woman…”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” Sabrina said bitterly. “Women aren’t supposed to notice their men whoring around. And if they do, they’re supposed to be polite about it. You’re allowed to cry in the privacy of your bedchamber or whisper to your friends, but make a scandal—never!”

  “It is true, my love,” Leonie said, “but maintain your reason, do. Many women do not mind. They think it is something men do. Some are even glad.”

  “But those who are not glad have no recourse.”

  “They can make their husbands lives miserable,” Roger said dryly. “The theory is that marriage is a sacred tie and cannot be dissolved.”

  “Regardless of the variety of hell that sacred tie causes one to inhabit,” Sabrina snapped, and then cried, “Oh, Roger, I’m sorry.”

  He smiled and touched his wife’s hand. “My dear, the particular hell I inhabited makes me more sympathetic than most men might be, although I must admit Solange never gave me any cause to suspect her of adultery. However, if Solange had not died and all else happened as it did, I don’t know what I would have done.”

  “I know what I would have done,” Leonie put in.

  “Yes.” Roger’s smile turned wry. “I fear I know also, but then both of us… No. Thank God there was no problem. But that is why I am not willing simply to go out and find evidence against William. Perhaps it is unfair, Sabrina, but we alone cannot change the law. Tomorrow I will consult a man I know who specializes in canon law. If we can find cause to void the marriage and can bring William to agree…”

  “That means waiting until William returns,” Sabrina said.

  Suddenly Roger looked anxious, his eyes flickering for just a moment to Sabrina’s slender waist. “Is there some reason to hurry?” he asked tensely.

  “No,” Sabrina replied, innocently unconscious of what he had thought, although Leonie had stiffened. “I just want it to be over.” She shuddered. “It will be so horrid.”

  Roger rose, put his arm around her shoulders, and hugged her. “An annulment will be quite private. Only a few questions to answer, and no spectators, which is another reason to avoid a divorce if possible. In any case, it would be better not to act at once. Thank God that peculiarly untalented Ministry of All Talents has finally fallen apart. But the new government is just getting organized. I have a good many friends in this administration. Just let them catch their breath.”

  “Yes, and also to arrange an annulment during the Season is to invite attention, petite,” Leonie pointed out.

  “There’s no hurry,” Sabrina repeated.

  As far as she was concerned, it was true. Until Perce came home, she was content to let matters move at any pace Roger thought best. He was not likely to neglect her affairs. The only trouble was, she did not know what to write to Perce. She shrank from replying to his passionate letter with one equally passionate. Not that she could not or would not write such words, but he had told her he believed his mail was opened, and she remembered that his letter to her had been opened and read. And she could not, after what he had written, reply in the light, friendly way she had previously written to him. Day after day she put off answering, and each day it grew harder to decide what to say.

  She had one hope, and that was to write about the status of her marriage, but she had nothing to say about that just at this moment, either. The All Talents Ministry had fallen on March 24, 1807, and was replaced by one headed by the Duke of Portland. Roger had groaned at the choice of a man both dull and ill but he understood it. The two most brilliant and most forceful politicians of the day, Mr. Canning and Viscount Castlereagh, loathed each other. Both were sufficiently patriotic, or ambitious, to serve in the same administration, but neither would accept orders from the other. Thus, poor Portland had been pushed into the prime minister’s position.

  For Roger, personally, this was an advantage. Lord Hawkesbury was now home secretary. Unaware of Roger’s earlier doubts about his competence and good sense, he was sincerely attached to the St. Eyres, father and son. Since it was the home secretary who would deal with divorce, and who could apply pressure to the Church if that were necessary, Roger was delighted with this appointment. Moreover, Portland’s inertness would guarantee no interference from that end.

  Politically, Roger was less sure he was satisfied. Castlereagh as secretary of war was fine. He was a real workhorse who would give that passionate attention to detail that was necessary for dealing with the endless intricacies of war. If anyone could salvage anything from the wreck Windham had left, it was Castlereagh. Canning at the Foreign Office was something else again. The man was absolutely brilliant, but he was reckless, ill-bred, and contemptuous of others in a way that earned and kept enemies. He was passionately in favor of the war but impatient with receiving advice, and was wildly erratic in action.

  By mid-April the effects of Canning’s restlessness were being felt. He was recalling ambassadors, changing the staffs of the embassies, and in general shaking up the entire administration of the Foreign Office. To speak the truth, there was not enough in foreign affairs to keep him busy. So many nations were dominated by Bonaparte, and thus had no relations with England, that there was little room to maneuver politically.

  Naturally one of the first matters to seize Canning’s attention was William’s plea for military aid to Russia and Prussia. William was recalled and arrived in London toward the end of April. There had been, as yet, no military action to speak of, William reported, but that was because Tsar Alexander was conferring with Prussia’s King Frederick William. However, the action must come soon, and, William insisted, whether the Russians won or lost, England would lose unless there was a substantial British contingent in the next military action.

  Canning grasped this without difficulty and agreed heartily. A paper was prepared on the subject and sent off to Castlereagh. The answer lacked the minister of war’s usual suavity. It did not matter, Castlereagh respond
ed, what was expedient or right. There were no British forces available, and if there had been, there were no transports to carry them. Canning fretted and fumed, spreading abroad the contention that in his desire to flout Canning’s foreign policy, Castlereagh was prepared to ruin the country.

  Unfortunately, Canning’s suspicions were not the truth. The previous ministry, having dispersed regiments to Egypt, Italy, and South America—to produce in Egypt one disastrous defeat; in Italy, a pointless victory that brought enormous suffering and lingering horror to the native forces that supported the British action; and a thus far un- known result in South America—had left Castlereagh with twelve thousand men and Lord Mulgrave at the Admiralty without ships for transport.

  Needless to say, Castlereagh was not going to sit back quietly and allow truth to refute for him Canning’s calumnies. Recriminations flew thick and fast, the antagonists seeming to have forgotten the cause in the enthusiasm with which they joined combat. Lord Hawkesbury, alerted by Roger, who had been warned by William, acted as mediator to calm the tantrums of his fellow ministers, and achieved a compromise. The German Legion, about eight thousand men, would be sent to Sweden to resist the French invasion of Swedish Pomerania. This must draw men from other French campaigns and thus, indirectly, assist Russia.

  William was horrified. Sweden was the traditional enemy of Russia, and this was a case in which “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” would not work. William stated flatly to Canning that the arrangement would not be sufficient. If only eight thousand men could be spared, he would try to explain the situation, but the men should be sent to East Prussia and not to Sweden.

  Had William gone to Castlereagh, he might have received an impartial hearing; however, protocol made it necessary that William address his objections to his own superior, and Mr. Canning took offense at Lord Elvan’s disapproval of a brilliant plan of his devising. For his pains, William was withdrawn from the East Prussian mission. He was, said Canning, beginning to identify himself too closely with the Prussian-Russian cause rather than with the best interests of England. This left William, who did not even like the Prussians or Russians, in a state of near shock.