‘You seem uncommon cheerful these days,’ his father had replied, but he had taken his son’s advice.
The Earl was dozing in his study some weeks after Marcus had proposed to Louise when his son came in—looking dashed happy as usual. He had to hope that he wasn’t smoking opium like some other damned fools the Earl knew. The biggest damned fool was, of course, himself, since the physician had prescribed it to ease the occasional strong pain he had begun to feel.
‘Sir,’ Marcus said, ‘I wish to talk to you about matters of some importance. I am of the opinion that you will be both relieved, and astonished, when I have finished.’
‘Eh, what’s that?’ said the Earl, recovering himself slowly from sleep. ‘Something about your coming management of the Abbey?’
‘In a sense,’ Marcus said. He wanted his father to be happy, because every day he seemed to grow more transparent, more wraith-like. His illness was beginning to consume him. ‘It is about two things. One is my marriage, and the other is the lady whom I intend to marry.’
‘Marry!’ exclaimed the Earl. ‘Have you come to your senses at last? If so, I shall be ready to die happy, knowing that everything will be in competent hands, and the continuance of the line will be ensured.’
‘Well, as to that only time will tell,’ grinned Marcus, ‘and we still have the Two Neds to fall back on. However, I not only intend to marry, but the lady has agreed that the ceremony should be celebrated at Christmas at the same time as that for Sharnbrook and Sophia—if they are agreeable, that is.’
‘But will not your bride’s family wish to see her married from her home?’
‘Well, as to that, sir, that is the second matter of which I wish to speak. I believe that she will, after a strange fashion, be married from her home. You see, my intended bride is none other than the missing daughter of Lord Rupert Cleeve, whom Jackson and myself, acting in company, have discovered. She is also the missing widow of the late Marquis of Sywell who was supposed to be the daughter of John Hanslope, his bailiff, and was always known as Louise Hanslope.
‘She has proved her identity and her legitimacy beyond a doubt, and the lawyers are satisfied that her claim is a true one. An examination by midwives has also shown her to be virgin. I had to persuade her to reveal her identity, because she originally wished to remain private and anonymous, and not cause you all distress by making such a claim. But I have convinced her that she owes a duty to herself, and to our family, to reveal her true identity. I now have her permission to speak to you of this. I must also tell you that Marissa and Sophia already know her.’
Marcus paused, for now here came the difficult part of his explanation. His father’s face was a picture of bewilderment when he had said that his stepmother and half-sister knew his proposed bride.
His father filled the pause by saying, ‘You mean that I do not know the lady, but they do, but how can that be?’
‘Because—’ and Marcus bit the bullet ‘—she is now known as Madame Félice, the modiste who is making Sophia’s wedding dress and trousseau.’
‘And you are marrying her—a—dressmaker! How in the world did you ever come to know her?’
‘That, sir, is a long story, and not to be told now,’ said Marcus firmly. ‘But she is the woman I love and whom I intend to marry. I believe that you, too, will come to love her when you meet her. I wish to bring her here as soon as possible so that I may introduce her to her family as our cousin and my future wife.’
‘Well, well, Angmering,’ said his father. ‘I suppose that you know what you are doing, you usually do. But I do hope that the lady will not wish to continue being a dressmaker after you marry her! Sywell’s widow, you say? Now that is an astonishing turn-up, you must admit.’
And that, thought Marcus with an inward grin, was rather how he might have expected his father to react to what must have seemed to him, amazing news.
What he said was, ‘Sywell’s victim, say rather. His victim in every way, as I will shortly tell you.’ And he informed his father in detail of what Jackson had discovered from Burneck.
When he had finished his father said grimly, ‘More than ever I cannot regret having disposed of such a monster—other than that I might have brought dishonour on to the family if what I had done had become known. Poor child, to think that she was living the hard life of a dressmaker’s apprentice and later of Sywell’s victim when, if I had known of her existence, I should have been happy to take her into my home and treat her as one of my immediate family.’
Now if only my father will tell her that, thought Marcus, returning to his room, all will be well and my darling will have no regrets about declaring herself a Cleeve.
‘Do I look well?’ Louise asked her forewoman, who was fitting her into a charmingly simple pale-blue afternoon frock designed to give off an impression of youthful innocence. Marcus was due to arrive at any moment to drive her to Berkeley Square to meet her new family.
‘I am sure,’ he had said, ‘that you have no need to worry about your reception, you will find the warmest of welcomes waiting for you.’
He had already told Marissa and Sophia of her and they had both spoken of their new relative with all the kindness and consideration which he had expected of them. But it is all very well for him, thought Louise, for he is not the stranger who is, of all people, Sywell’s widow. Never mind that I shall not acknowledge his existence, since I have formally renounced my title, but that does not alter the facts of the matter.
She was still feeling awkward, although her forewoman had assured her that she looked most comme il faut and fit to be presented at court when, with Marcus by her side, she was formally ushered by Cardew into Cleeve House’s splendid drawing-room, where all the Earl’s family were assembled. For once the Two Neds were behaving themselves, sitting demurely side by side on a sofa almost too dainty for their growing bodies.
They, together with the Earl, rose, and bowed deeply when Cardew bellowed, ‘M’lord, Viscount Angmering and Miss Louise Cleeve.’
Louise blushed and looked towards Marissa and Sophia, who also rose, and offered her smaller bows. The moment they were over Marissa walked over to Louise to take her into her arms, after kissing her cheek, and murmuring into her ear, ‘Oh, my dear, if only we had known of your existence we could have done so much for you. But now that you are to marry Marcus we must concentrate on making you both as happy as sandboys.’
She could not have said or done anything more calculated to put Louise at her ease. Marcus gave his stepmother a surreptitious smile: he might have known that she would turn up trumps, and Sophia, too, who said, smiling, ‘I do hope that this does not mean that you will not be able to continue making my trousseau!’
‘Not at all,’ said Louise, ‘for it is almost finished, leaving me plenty of time to make my own. They will be my swansong, you understand. In future my forewoman will run the business for me, and I shall provide any capital necessary to develop it further.’
‘Excellent, my dear,’ said Marissa, giving another approving smile. ‘I must compliment you, Marcus, on marrying a lady with so much sound common-sense. The Yardley estates will have two splendid nonpareils running it and its future will be assured.’
The Earl, who had watched his wife and daughter take over Louise’s welcome into her new family, now walked forward, saying, ‘I had meant to offer you a more formal welcome, my dear, but as usual, I have been forestalled by my women! Rest assured that my pleasure on seeing you in your rightful place is as great as theirs.’
He had spent two mornings with his own, and Louise’s, lawyers, examining papers and speaking to Jackson about his interview with Burneck. But it was not until the Earl actually saw Louise for the first time that any doubts about her true identity flew away.
‘You are the exact image of one of my Cleeve cousins, Adelaide by name,’ he said. ‘You have her very look. If I had seen you on one of your previous visits when you came to fit Sophia I would have thought I was seeing a ghost—for Adelaid
e died in childbirth when little more than a child herself, and so she has always remained young for me.’
He did not add that he had had a tendre for her when he had been little older than the two Neds, but her father, who had been a great stock-breeder and improver of his sheep and cattle, had thought it unwise that cousins should marry, and they had been kept apart until she had been married off to a neighbouring squire.
Louise stared at him with great eyes and then, before she could stop herself, she began to cry, gently and quietly. Marissa put an arm around her and said, ‘Child, do not be distressed or overset. You must know how happy we are that Marcus is to marry you, and that you are restored to us.’
‘I am not crying because I am sad or overset,’ Louise said, through her slow tears. ‘But because I am happy. No one, I do assure you, has ever said so many kind things to me in such a short time as you have done. No one has ever welcomed me so warmly. Indeed, apart from my dear friend Athene no one has ever welcomed me at all. You will think me a regular watering-pot, but believe me, I have seldom cried in the past, and hope not to do so in the future.’
She turned to Marcus and said, ‘You will all think me most ungrateful for returning your kindnesses with tears.’
‘No,’ he said, thinking that she looked more beautiful than ever, with her eyes shining and her soft mouth quivering. ‘It is most understandable. We all know that you have met with very little kindness while you were still Louise Hanslope and then Madame Félice. We will say nothing of Sywell, for he deserves nothing.’
Louise smiled through her tears at this blunt statement, so typical of Marcus. ‘After that,’ she said, ‘I must contrive not to disgrace myself.’
‘Tea!’ exclaimed Marissa. ‘That is what we need—and time for Louise to become used to us. We have not even had the grace to introduce her to my Two Neds, who have been behaving in the most unusual fashion ever since you were announced. They are being so good and quiet that I fear that they may be sickening for something.’
‘Pooh to that,’ said Ned One cheerfully. ‘It is because our tutor has been given the afternoon off so that we may join you in meeting cousin Louise. We seem to have very few relatives, so it is rather jolly to discover a new one—particularly when she is so pretty. Mark Anthony must be congratulated on his taste, as well as on his enterprise in discovering our lost cousin.’
‘Oh,’ said Louise, winning the two boys’ hearts immediately, ‘I can see that, whatever else, this particular Ned is well on his way to becoming a diplomat. Is the quiet one a diplomat, too?’
‘Certainly not,’ exclaimed Ned Two. ‘I leave that to my senior. I wish to be a soldier, only Marcus tells me that once we have beaten the French there may not be any more wars for some time. That does not change my mind. To be a soldier and not worry about getting killed would add to the fun of wearing a uniform, not detract from it. Later on, Cousin Louise, I should like to show you my collection of toy soldiers—if Marcus can spare you, that is.’
‘I should be delighted,’ she told him truthfully, happy to be treated as one of the family. She had known few boys, but she could judge immediately that the Two Neds were splendid specimens of young manhood. It was already obvious that when they had gained a few more years both boys were going to be heartbreakers, whatever else they might become.
She listened with some amusement to their mother telling them both, with mock severity, to stop being frivolous, but Louise had experienced so little of such light-heartedness in her hard life that she welcomed it.
Tea, when it came, was a jolly meal, and after it the Earl asked her and Marcus to join him for some private conversation about the future.
‘Angmering tells me,’ he said, ‘that you will be giving up your business in London and, once married, will make your home at the Abbey, when it has been improved to your taste and it is fit to live in. I have talked to my wife and we would both be most happy for you to form part of our household in Northamptonshire until you marry at Christmas—if that is what you would wish. After that I propose that, since Marcus will essentially take over the role of my retiring agent, you will live in his house until the Abbey is ready for you. After my death Jaffrey House would make a splendid residence for the Dowager Lady Yardley and the Two Neds. Such arrangements, are of course, subject to your approval.’
What could she say? With Marcus smiling happily at her, and the Earl so welcoming in his kindness, to refuse would be impossible even if she had wished to do so.
‘I hardly know how to thank you,’ she told him. ‘Of course, I will do as you suggest—when I have wound everything up in London, that is.’
‘Excellent,’ said the Earl. ‘Marissa is already planning your wedding, and that you should be married from the Cleeve household, as befits a member of the Cleeve family, can only add to our pleasure.’
And so it was settled. Later Marcus took Louise into the garden at the back of the house, and they had a few private moments to share their pleasure in one another’s company.
‘The trouble is,’ groaned Marcus, after they had exchanged some hurried embraces away from the overlooking windows, ‘that it is going to be deuced hard for me not to ravish you before Christmas. You grow more bewitching by the day—which shows what happiness and contentment can do to a person, I suppose—but I hardly like to tell you what it is doing to my contentment, to say nothing of my willpower.’
‘So you don’t mind losing your bet with Jack Perceval?’ asked Louise, who was having some difficulties of her own in remaining as chaste as she ought before marriage.
‘Not at all,’ said Marcus. ‘I had rather lose it, and gain you, than win it and not have you. I would wish that you would stand still for a moment, I have a mind to kiss you again.’
‘Except that I think that we really ought to go indoors again. Your parents will be wondering what we are finding to do out of doors on a chill Autumn afternoon.’
‘No, they won’t,’ said Marcus, with a meaningful grin. ‘They will know perfectly well what we are doing—but you are right, if only because I am growing more desperate to ravish you by the minute, and much though I think that you might enjoy it, the back garden of Cleeve House is scarcely the most romantical or sensible place, to engage in such goings on.’
Reluctantly they drew apart, both wishing that Christmas—and marriage—would soon arrive, after which they could pleasure themselves to their heart’s content. For the moment they would have to be happy in the knowledge that Louise, after her hard journey through life, had at last reached harbour with the man she loved—and who loved her.
Epilogue
Christmas Eve, 1812
‘O h, mam, I mean m’lady, you look like a fairy princess in that dress, indeed you do!’
Louise smiled down at her little maid, who had been translated from being her general help in Chelsea to being her personal maid since she had left London in mid-November to come and live at Jaffrey House before she married Marcus alongside Sophia and her handsome Duke. They had decided on leaving London once Louise’s true identity became known, not only to society but also the Radical press.
Her sudden reappearance had, indeed, stunned society and produced enough on dits about her to last a lifetime. The last thing anyone wanted was that idle sensation-seekers would fill the church. Instead, the ceremony itself was to be held in the small private chapel at Jaffrey House before the bride’s and groom’s immediate families. Their friends and more distant relatives would attend a reception in the Great Hall. The Earl’s staff and many of the faithful villagers from round about would be having a party in the kitchen after the reception was over and dancing had begun.
The only worry that Marissa and Marcus had was whether the Earl, who was daily failing, would have the strength to cope with such a demanding event.
‘Nonsense!’ he had exclaimed when Marissa had, cautiously, broached the subject with him. ‘I would be a poor thing if I could not stand up at my children’s weddings, particularly when I have spe
nt the last ten years begging Marcus to marry.’
And so it was settled.
Rather than employ someone new to be her lady’s maid, Louise had taken Mary Smith with her to Jaffrey House. Marissa’s maid had instructed her in her new duties and Mary was rapidly losing her timidity and beginning to acquit herself with honour. She was already walking out with one of the footmen—and wedding bells seemed imminent.
‘It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever designed,’ she said, adding diplomatically, ‘after Lady Sophia’s gown, of course.’
Louise thought that there was not a pin to choose between the two dresses. She said, a little shyly, for she was finding it difficult to believe that her time in exile was behind her and that she was really going to marry Marcus today, ‘I hope that m’lord will agree with you when he sees it.’
‘Oh, I’m sure he will. I don’t suppose you know that Lady Yardley was very strict with him this morning. He wished to come and see you in your finery before the service, but she told him that on no account was he to do any such thing. It was bad luck, she said, and you had had enough of that already to last a lifetime. He wasn’t best pleased, I can tell you, but M’lady said that seeing you were going to spend the rest of your days together, a few hours apart shouldn’t be too heart-breaking for him.’
Now, wasn’t that just like Marcus! The one thing she liked best about him was his positive forthrightness—so unlike her first husband’s cunning evasion about everything. You always knew where you were with Marcus, whereas Sywell—and she really ought to stop thinking about him on this happy day—but for a moment she had remembered the dreadful nature of her first wedding, with Burneck standing at Sywell’s shoulder and grinning away at them.
He had been invited to the party in the kitchen, Marcus had decreed, because he had turned up trumps in the end and had told the lawyers everything—even more than Jackson had wrenched out of him—so that her right to be called Louise Cleeve had been established beyond a doubt. Louise wasn’t sure that she wanted him there, but Marcus’s kindness was something else which she valued, so she had not argued with him.
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