by May Burnett
He sighed. “Already you are setting conditions,” he said in a mock-plaintive voice. “I see how it will be. But fear not, I quite understand. I admire you because you are unlike most women, more gifted and quicker in understanding, and correspondingly more independent. You will not be happy to be left at home darning my socks – you will be right at my side, fighting your own and my battles. Have I got that right?”
She nodded, pleased at his comprehension. “I shall be a loyal and loving wife, but I cannot stand to be stifled – to be told what to read and what not, expected to be polite to people I despise, agree with a man when I really disagree. I have a temper and sometimes I am not a nice person. In fact, I am far from perfect. I want you to know that from the outset.”
“Love, I know you have a few small faults, but you are perfect for me. And it is not as though I myself am immaculate. I shall bear your humours as best I can - my shoulders are broad, and my temper is equable. We complement each other well. But now I really need another kiss to sweeten the deal; I warn you that now I have permission, you will find my desire for you insatiable.”
“Oh dear,” she pretended to worry, but could not hold back a broad grin. “In that case, how lucky that I enjoy your kisses.” He lost no time in proving it to her again, with considerable passion.
“What a strange day this is,” he said at last. “You accepted me knowing very little about my circumstances, Margaret. Are you not worried that I may be unable to support you in the style to which you are accustomed?”
“You forget my treasure – our treasure, now. I expect we can live on that, and your work, quite comfortably. I survived on far less after my father’s death, when I had almost nothing and was an unwanted poor relation.”
“If anyone did not want you, Margaret, they must be mad. But let me set your mind at ease. I returned from India with a small fortune, and will most likely inherit my uncle’s baronetcy.”
Margaret had not thought about that at all. So she would be Lady Trey eventually? She found she hardly cared. “Then you were perfectly eligible all along! My maternal grandfather was a baronet too, and the Bellairs family, though old, was never titled. I am doing very well for myself.”
“I was waiting for my working relationship with Lord Pell to end, and planned to call upon you in London. But I did not have high expectations. From what your mother has told everyone, since your sister’s marriage to a peer you could have looked much higher.”
“Bother that.” Another worry occurred to her. “Are you thinking, by any chance, that I am eager to marry you because of this ridiculous letter and the rumours it created? Because nothing could be further from the truth. It made me consider what I truly wanted, but I have nothing to be ashamed of, William.”
“I know. The moment we kissed I knew that you were inexperienced in the deeper mysteries of passion. I look forward to showing you how to enjoy all the rest.”
Margaret felt momentary pique – was she that poor at kissing? Could one really tell from a kiss whether a woman had had lovers? But first things first. “Now we are engaged, I suppose I shall have to do something to refute Betty’s little intrigue. I had come to the point where I almost did not care, but it would not do for your career to be harmed by scurrilous rumours.”
“Betty’s little intrigue? Oh. I should have thought of that myself.” William looked vexed. “Why, that little cat! I suppose she was jealous of you, over the handsome doctor?”
“That is the most likely motive.” Margaret slipped her hand in his big one. “Come to the house – we need to talk.” After a few steps she remembered her real guilty secret, and stopped again. “I do have a confession to make, and had better do so before we announce our engagement to anyone. You can still draw back.”
“It cannot be that bad. Don’t keep me in suspense – let me know the worst, darling.”
Warmed by his kind expression, Margaret went on without faltering. “When we were poor and desperate, and about to cast ourselves on the charity of our Italian relatives, I was approached by a man from the War Office.” She ignored his look of surprise. “He offered me money for reporting on Austrian affairs, for we were going to live in Verona, an important military base. I was ready to clutch at any straw, or income, and quickly agreed. For two years I regularly reported on troop movements, local politics, and the plans of the Austrian fortifications. I did receive money – little enough – and kept it secret, not sharing with my mother and sister. That is the part I most regret.”
“You are full of surprises. I see nothing to forgive.” He touched her cheek caressingly. “Anything else?”
“I was nearly found out in the end. Anthony – my sister’s husband – had to smuggle us over the border, or I might have been hanged, and maybe Emily too. It was very wrong of me to have endangered her without her knowledge.”
He shrugged. “That is all past history. I assume your sister has forgiven you – and it is nothing to do with me, with us. All it tells me is that you are clever and daring and lucky.”
“Many men would not want a clever wife who had spied for money, William.”
“How fortunate that I am not one like those lame-brained fellows. I love you as you are, Margaret. Do try to get that into your beautiful head.”
She embraced him again then, and it was several minutes more before they arrived at the Hall, still somewhat out of breath. Berry was waiting in the courtyard, licking her paws, unaware that the whole world had changed since she had chased after Christopher.
Margaret turned to William. “I am going to keep Berry with me when I leave Bankington.” Would he object? Was his promise to let her have her own space in their marriage true, when it came to the crunch?
“Of course you are, love. Did I not choose her particularly for you?”
Chapter 24
“Oh, there you are, Miss! I was looking for you when it was one o’clock and you were not there for lunch.” Tom’s training would have to be taken in hand; it was hardly proper for a teenage footman to rebuke his mistress. But on such a day as this, with William at her side, she could overlook it.
“Have my mother and Mrs. Carney returned yet?”
“No, not yet, Miss.”
That was strange. They had left soon after eleven, and the walk to the vicarage was not more than fifteen minutes.
“Lay another setting for Mr. Trey, please, and call us as soon as lunch is served.”
The boy bobbed his head, and sped off to do her bidding.
“I am actually hungry,” William sounded surprised. “I spent the whole morning going over that old dower house with Sir Reginald and Lord Laxeley. It is from them that I heard about the scandalous letter.”
“You had better see it for yourself.” She led the way to the study and extracted the pale blue sheet from the pages of a book, handing it to him with a moue of distaste.
He perused it and shook his head. “It is incredible that anyone could be taken in by that. The writing is clearly disguised and anyway, why would an Italian write to you in English?”
“Exactly. I read Italian perfectly well.”
“If I plotted something like that, I would omit the reference to poor little Corina,” he said thoughtfully. “A delicate circumstance cannot be hidden from one’s closest relatives for nine months, after all.”
“I have heard of cases … but not with the current fashion for tightly laced waists, I agree.”
“On the other hand, it would be easy to add specific, damning details of what went on in those passionate nights… details that an unmarried girl would hardly think of.” He kissed her quickly. “Things that you, my dear, will find out as soon as I have got my ring on your finger.”
Margaret decided not to wonder about that now – but how soon could they be married? What would her mother, her sister say to her sudden engagement? Not that she truly cared. Her mind was made up.
“I shall hold you to that. Though my mother intimated once that the marriage bed is something mere
ly to be endured for the man’s sake, and for conceiving children.”
“Endured? I hope we can do better than that, though I like the part about children. But let’s not be side-tracked now; we have a liar and forger to take care of.”
Before they could discuss possible strategies, lunch was ready. They moved to the dining room to share their first meal as an engaged couple. The maid serving the food looked at them a little oddly, but Margaret did not deign to explain herself. Her news must be broken to family first. She liked that William did not raise stuffy objections and worries for her reputation.
They found much to discuss – his family, where in London they would take a house, how William’s architectural career was progressing. By common accord, they did not mention the false letter while eating.
Her meal was rudely interrupted when she was enjoying the last course – trifle with gooseberry filling, one of her favourite desserts.
“Margaret Bellairs! Are you lost to all sense of shame and decency?” Her mother’s accusing cry, coming from the door behind her back, made Margaret inhale a crumb and she coughed, gasping for air, while William helpfully patted her back.
By the time she could speak, she had almost mastered her wrath. “Mother, you took me by surprise.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Bellairs,” William said politely.
“Margaret, if we are to have any chance of refuting these scandalous allegations against you, you have to behave with the utmost decorum from now on! Don’t you understand? And there I find you eating all alone, in tête-à-tête with an unmarried gentleman! It simply will not do! As for you, Mr. Trey, I am sorely disappointed in your behaviour! I had thought better of you."
“That is unfortunate, Ma’am, as I am planning to marry your daughter. We are engaged.”
“What!” Mrs. Bellairs’ eyes bulged. She was at a loss for words.
“It is true, Mother,” Margaret confirmed, enjoying herself. “I have decided to take your constant admonitions to heart, and find myself a spouse.”
There was a long, pregnant pause. Mrs. Bellairs opened her mouth to speak, thought better of it, closed it again, twice over. Finally she sighed in resignation. “Even so, it is not proper to be all alone with him. Engaged, really engaged, Margaret?” She looked William over doubtfully. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Quite sure.”
“It is not because of that letter, is it? The Vicar and Miss Langley assure me that will blow over, if we firmly deny everything.”
Margaret shrugged. “No, it has nothing to do with that. I already felt a strong partiality for Mr. Trey, and it turns out that he feels the same.”
“I had no idea … you gave no sign at all. And when I think of all the titled gentlemen you could have had! Dear Marianne wrote she has invited a young Earl she thought might interest you. This engagement seems a bit hasty to me.”
William grinned at her. “What a great sacrifice you are making for my sake, Margaret!”
Margaret rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Mother, please! No more talk of other suitors, other men, it is hardly respectful or polite towards William. He is your future son-in-law. You might as well accustom yourself to the idea. Where is Mrs. Carney, by the way? And have you eaten?”
“Yes, we had a light lunch at the Vicarage. She will follow later.”
“The Vicar was not so shocked at my sins, I take it, that he wants to break off all contact with our tainted family?”
“Of course not. He entered most fully into my feelings on this occasion… I really do not know what I would do without his support.”
“Good,” Margaret said. “Did he have any advice on how to squash these nasty rumours?”
“He said he had to think about it … and before I forget, he is coming here, with Vanessa, to talk to you directly. They could not come with me now, because Miss Langley was expecting Lord Laxeley for their joint music practice. Though I don’t quite understand why that is still proceeding, when the musicale Lady Milldale was going to arrange is cancelled.”
“I fault Lady Milldale and her husband,” William said sternly, “for immediately jumping to conclusions and telling the whole village before discussing the letter with you. But it is hardly the first time I have seen otherwise decent but self-righteous people carried away by the fervour of misplaced indignation.”
“Misplaced indignation?” Mrs. Bellairs was regarding William with somewhat greater favour. “Then you are convinced that the letter is a fake?”
“As certain as I am of anything.”
“I suppose as Margaret’s fiancé you could call out anyone who tries to blacken her name,” Mrs. Bellairs suggested hopefully.
Margaret vehemently shook her head. “Then William would be dead long before we can be married, Mother, because the list of opponents would be endless. Any challenge or duel would only give added weight to the rumours.”
“Don’t worry, love,” William said equably, “I do not hold with duels, which are illegal anyway. Besides, in this case the main culprit is a girl. Ladies cannot be challenged to wash away an insult with blood.”
“I rather wish they could.” Margaret imagined a smoking gun in her hand, and the lifeless, bleeding body of Betty Harris stretched out on the grass before her. Abandoning this pleasant fancy with regret, she returned to reality. “I wrote to Marianne and Emily earlier, the letters are already gone. Now I must write again, to tell them of my engagement.”
“I gather you agree with Margaret’s theory that the letter was hidden in the music sheets by Miss Harris?” Mrs. Bellairs asked William. “I find it hard to believe that an innocent young girl of eighteen could do something so cruel and vindictive.”
“Yet everyone is immediately ready to believe the worst of me,” Margaret complained. “Am I not also an innocent young girl? Well, not eighteen any longer, but twenty-two is not that much older.”
“So young?” William looked down on her with a smile. “I am twelve years your senior. I feel that I am robbing the cradle.”
“I shall be twenty-three soon,” Margaret admitted. She liked this playful side of William that had come out since they had plighted their troth.
“Now the truth emerges at last...”
Mrs. Bellairs shook her head. “Levity at a moment like this is entirely misplaced. We face a social calamity, Margaret. Your betrothal and marriage will help to some extent, but people will say that you married to save your good name, and the rumours will taint the Trey family as well as ours.”
“Just now I am so happy and in love, that I find it hard to care,” Margaret declared. “Let me enjoy the moment, mother. By the time the Vicar and Vanessa arrive, I may find it easier to focus on this absurd predicament.”
“And I had better check how the work on the stables is progressing,” William said. “The sooner I can get you away from this village, the better pleased I shall be.”
“Leaving right away would look like running away,” Margaret pointed out. “I only do that when my neck is in imminent danger. You told me the men would be finished by the end of the month? Then that is when we will depart, exactly as planned.”
“Harrumph.” Mrs. Bellairs shook her head. “Remember that there are others involved as well. You cannot decide for everyone over their heads, Margaret.”
Margaret bit her lips. It was true she had a managing side, but then how often had she had to follow along where others decided, with no real say in her own movements? She looked at William.
“Whenever you are ready to leave, Margaret, I shall escort you to your destination.”
“That will be most welcome.” And safer for her treasure, she reflected, but her mother must not know it was still in the house. “Between you and Berry, we shall be safe enough.”
Her mother gasped. “Now Margaret, you cannot be thinking of taking that large ugly dog in the carriage with you!”
Margaret sighed. “Let’s not worry about it now. I shall rest for a little, while William sees to his wor
k. Call me when the Vicar arrives.”
She went to her room and, kicking off her shoes, lay down on her bed to contemplate the new turn her life had taken. Her head was still whirling – it was like riding along on some boring path, and with a sudden unexpected turn of the road, finding herself in an entirely new, strange country.
A better country, full of sunshine and promise. No, she did not regret a thing. William was just right for her. She was less sure that she was the ideal wife for him, or indeed for any man, and hoped that his current good opinion would persist over time. Fortunately he seemed a tolerant, understanding sort of man. With her quick anger and mood changes, she needed him to ground and balance her. Him and music and her art and her dog.
All would be well, now she had William to shield and advise her.
Chapter 25
“Congratulations, Margaret, and Mr. Trey,” the Vicar said later that afternoon, as Mrs. Bellairs handed him a tea cup, exactly as he liked it – with a little milk and two pieces of sugar. “This news of your engagement is as unexpected as it is happy. I wish you many years of harmony and felicity.”
Acknowledging his good wishes, Margaret regretted that Mr. Langley would not officiate at her wedding, as he had done at her sister’s and many years ago, at her parents’. Of course that match had not led to lasting happiness or harmony, and the end had come as a merciful relief in some respects. No, she would not think of that now.
“You have been very good, to devote so much time to my mother’s search for the perfect monument,” she said. “Have you decided yet? Our time in Bankington is soon drawing to a close.”
“Yes, that is all settled,” her mother replied. “We have already ordered a weeping angel in white marble, slightly more than life-size.”
“Who knows what size angels truly are?” Margaret asked, diverted. “For all you know, they are eight foot tall.”
