Amberley Chronicles Boxset II (Amberley Chronicles Box Sets Book 2)

by May Burnett

  “We shall live in London, taking our own house,” Mrs. Bellairs said. “Ernest is very well off, even after giving Vanessa a dowry of fifteen thousand pounds. He inherited a fortune from a great-uncle some years ago, but never did anything with it, except increase his charities.”

  “How gratifying.”

  “Yes, isn’t it? But that is not why I decided to marry him,” Mrs. Bellairs assured her. She looked uncommonly grave. “Although my first marriage was not all it could have been, I find I prefer not to live by myself. I am used to having a man tell me how to go on. It has not been easy to bear the responsibility for all three of us, without a husband to lean on. When I think back to that time in Verona, when I let everyone down…”

  Margaret could only stare at such unwonted self-awareness and contrition in her parent. “Don’t worry about it, Mother. It is all in the past now, and we came out of that pretty well.”

  “Only through the greatest stroke of luck. If Anthony had not come to Verona just then, what would have become of us?”

  She had a point. “And you will be happier as Mrs. Langley? Indeed, I cannot doubt it. So much depends on the character and nature of a spouse, and in that respect your second choice could hardly be bettered. I am truly happy for you, Mother, and agree that you are more suited to matrimony than to singlehood. You may even become a mother again.”

  “Unlikely,” Mrs. Bellairs said coyly, “though not quite impossible, I suppose.” She looked momentarily wistful. “Being a grandmother will be quite enough. I look forward to having Vanessa as a third daughter. She has been very gracious about the whole thing.”

  “She should feel grateful that her father will not be lonely, now that she is engaged and will soon be Lady Laxeley.”

  “Yes. A Viscountess.” There was a trace of regret in Mrs. Bellairs’ voice.

  “Console yourself that Lord Laxeley’s title will stay in the family after all, Mother, even if not through me.”

  “And you will be a baronet’s lady eventually, unless that uncle of William’s takes it into his head to remarry and has a son of his own. It is always possible, you know, especially with a young wife.”

  “If that happens, we shall survive,” Margaret said drily. ”Millions of people lead perfectly contented lives without titles of any sort.”

  “Only because it is out of their reach. Few of them would reject a title, were it offered to them.”

  “You married my father, who had no title, while your own father was a baronet,” Margaret reminded her ambitious parent.

  “Yes, but I was young and foolish at the time, and should have listened to my brother. Rupert was so handsome and romantic when we first met … your eyes are just like his, Margaret.” Her voice trembled.

  “You have done your duty to him,” Margaret said bracingly, “and have every right to look forward to happy years at the side of Mr. Langley.” How many years would that be, with a man of such advanced age? But in their place, would Margaret not also grasp at what happiness she could? Nobody, not even the youngest and healthiest couple, could be certain of a long time together.

  Away with such melancholy thoughts. She really needed a piano at hand, to chase them away more easily. “How soon will you be married, Mother? And where? A Vicar cannot officiate at his own wedding.”

  “The sooner the better. I was thinking at Amberley, in three weeks. At my age we do not have time for long engagements. Ernest is coming with us when we go there. I shall write to Marianne today, to let her know, and request that she prepare a small private ceremony.”

  “Anthony and Emily will be surprised, but happy for you.”

  “Yes, I must write to them at the same time. I had better get started.”

  Margaret left her mother to her epistolary efforts and searched out Mrs. Carney in the library, where she sat perusing one of the few volumes that had remained behind as worthless.

  Raising her eyes from her book Mrs. Carney appeared perfectly serene, almost smug.

  “Mrs. Carney, has my mother told you of her engagement?”

  “Of course. I could see it coming a mile off, and did everything in my power to advance their romance. At first it was heavy going; they were both as stiff as cardboard and unaware of their mutual attraction; but once they saw the possibilities I could lean back and just observe. It has been quite entertaining.”

  Margaret could well believe it. How could she have missed such a crucial development, taking place under her own nose? “Thank you. This match will be good for my mother; she is not made to live alone. But what will you do?”

  “Go home, of course. I miss my little house in Geneva. With what I have earned over the past year, I can make improvements to it. I shall do well enough, don’t worry about that.”

  “Good.” Had Mrs. Carney wanted to keep her employment, the elderly couple would never have come together, Margaret suspected. She would suggest to Anthony that he give the widow a handsome bonus to enjoy in her alpine retirement.

  “Three engagements in one week in such a tiny village,” Mrs. Carney mused, “that will give rise to months of gossip. I am not sorry we shall be leaving within days. Bankington’s society is boring in its provincial narrowness.”

  Margaret blinked. Such wholesale condemnation was unlike the tolerant Mrs. Carney, but she could not disagree with her verdict.

  It was not until an hour later that William returned in triumph, Mrs. Bellairs’ pearl necklace in his hand.

  “I never expected to see it again,” Mrs. Bellairs said as she carefully tucked the necklace into its proper box, after thanking William. “What a lucky day this is!”

  “Tell us all,” Margaret commanded William. “Where did you find it?”

  “It was Jock Petersbone, as we suspected. He heard of the treasure from the other workers who had been present at the time. It must have been a great temptation. He had never previously engaged in crime, but he could not stop thinking of all that gold, he told Sir Reginald.”

  “Then you took him straight to the magistrate?”

  “Yes, but that came later. We followed him, and your idea of using the boys was inspired, Margaret. He marched right past them without a second glance. As soon as he arrived home he packed a bundle and dressed in his best Sunday clothes. He had booked a seat on tonight’s mail coach to London, where he was going to sell the necklace. He would have received only a fraction of its true worth, as an obvious novice from the country,” William said dispassionately. “But the moment the boys saw him take off on a journey, the younger one ran to find Manning and me – we pounced and dragged him to Sir Reginald. The man looked guilty enough, and the necklace was found hidden in his clothes – the bundle contained only a change of shirts, and food for the journey.”

  “What did Sir Reginald do?”

  “Well, Petersbone is locked up for now, but it is a serious crime. When convicted he’ll be hanged or transported – more likely the latter, I think.”

  “How terrible.” Margaret imagined a noose around her own neck – it could so easily have happened, back in Verona. “Does Petersbone have a family?”

  “His parents, and about a hundred cousins in the area, Sir Reginald said. The father is Sir Reginald’s tenant, and was shocked and heartbroken at this discovery. By all accounts, he is an honest man.”

  “I am sorrier for his mother,” Mrs. Bellairs declared. “Is there anything we can do? Refuse to prosecute?”

  “No, too late for that. Sir Reginald could not let such a crime pass; it would set a terrible example. You can write a letter, recommending mercy. It may help, or not.”

  “I suppose one more letter hardly matters,” Mrs. Bellairs sighed. “I shall do it for the parents’ sake. Ernest would wish it. I must tell him all about it, and shall wear the necklace when we all have dinner at the Vicarage tonight. Until we depart it will not leave my own sight.”

  “By all means,” Margaret encouraged her, and slipped her hand into William’s. This small act already felt normal and ri
ght after such a short time. Was she becoming dependent on a man’s guidance, like her mother?

  No, their match was different. They would each guide the other, matching strength with strength, love with love.

  “I badly need a draught, after all this thief-catching.” William drew her in the direction of the kitchens.

  “There is wine in the decanters in the dining room,” Margaret said.

  “That is not the kind of draught I meant, but lead the way.”

  In the deserted room he drew her into his strong arms for a passionate kiss. “A taste of you could revive the dead, love. I can hardly stand to be several hours gone from your side.”

  The next few minutes were spent in mutually pleasurable caresses. In the end they each had a glass of the wine after all. “It cannot remotely compare with the sweetness of your lips,” William said critically after tasting it.

  “Why did Petersbone never try for the treasure again?”

  “When he could not find it anywhere that night, he concluded that it really must have gone to London, as we put about so consistently. If he knew he missed it, that it was here all the time, he would be even more angry at the world and sorry for himself.”

  “I shall be very glad to entrust the gold to a reputable bank,” Margaret said. “But I have written to Anthony he can keep the dowry he had promised earlier, of ten thousand, since the gold is worth about the same. I also have some nine hundred pounds back in London.”

  His reaction did not disappoint her. “Quite right. I can support you easily, no matter how much or little work I get as an architect. A chest full of gold and jewels is a far more interesting dowry than a draft on some bank. I plan to brick that safe in with my own hands.”

  “The stillroom would be a good place. It is always kept locked anyway.”

  “Never mind that now. The greatest treasure in this house is right here, in my arms, Margaret.”

  “And in mine,” she assented. “Despite everything that has happened, and not speaking with most of the neighbours, I do not regret for a moment that I travelled to Derbyshire this last time. I would not have you – or Berry – had I remained in town. I still would not know what to do with my life.”

  “That would be tragic indeed, if you did not have Berry in your life.”

  She chuckled. “You know very well that it is not comparable at all – though she makes me happy too, partly because she was a gift from you. Had I stopped to think, I might have noticed the evidence that you already cared for and protected me.”

  He passed his big thumb along her lower lip caressingly. “I suppose we might have met in London at some point, but as strangers.”

  “How horrible, to have walked by you on some London street, never knowing that we were destined to be together.”

  “Then you feel that our love was destiny?”

  “Without the slightest doubt.” Margaret sealed her assertion with another deep kiss, filled with the promise of delights yet to come.

  Chapter 29

  Lady Amberley admired baby Marcus, her nephew, with just the degree of awe and affection that the infant’s proud parents expected. Lord and Lady Pell had arrived at Amberley several days after the Bellairs ladies and their various swains, who had come directly from Derbyshire.

  “What a prodigious change since his christening! He looks much bigger than my girls did at his age.”

  Emily regarded her child with a bemused expression. “Marcus is big and strong, isn’t he? At this size I could never have given birth to him.”

  “Nature knows why they have to be born so tiny,” Marianne said. “Not that it feels like it, especially the first time.” Noting her brother’s pained expression she was quick to change the subject. “Are you very amazed to lose not only Margaret but your mother too, Emily?”

  “Indeed, Mother’s engagement was a complete surprise,” her sister-in-law said frankly. “I would not have expected Mother to ever think of remarriage. Indeed, when I remember how far gone in a decline she was just a year ago, it seems quite miraculous. I have known and liked Mr. Langley all my life. I could not think of anyone I would rather welcome as a stepfather.”

  “Yes, it is an excellent development all around.” Anthony smiled with satisfaction. “It would not have come about without Margaret’s insistence to oversee the repairs, so we all owe her thanks. As I remember it, Emily, your mother was by no means keen on the journey.”

  “Margaret’s engagement surprised me too,” Emily said, “but when I thought about it, I realised that her former ambition was in reaction to our ruin and poverty. Her first love, Dorringley, was merely planning to be a rural physician, though his family is well off. Now that we are no longer in danger of starvation and homelessness, Margaret can afford to choose on the basis of character rather than status.”

  “I like Trey, and it is not a bad match overall,” Anthony commented. “The family is respectable enough, and he has money of his own. I had trouble persuading him to accept Margaret’s dowry, the ten thousand that she had thrown back in my face. In the end he had the sum settled directly on his wife. I’ll make sure he never lacks for work, either. At least four of my friends are considering building projects right now.”

  Marianne nodded. “Trey is not the type I would have expected Margaret to choose, but when one sees them together, they suit each other well.”

  “Laxeley also seems a stout fellow,” Anthony said, “and through his engagement to Vanessa Langley he is in the way of becoming a connection as well. Little Marcus will have a far larger family than we had as children, Marianne.”

  “He will also have more siblings, I hope.” Marianne looked speculatively at Emily. Only twenty, healthy and fertile – with luck she would fill up the Wetherby nursery, which had rarely held more than two infants over the last generations.

  “It is too early to think of that, but we certainly hope for more children,” Emily said primly. “Margaret and William will likely be next. The scorching way he looks at her, he can barely await their wedding.”

  “That is as it should be, with a bride as attractive as Margaret,” Anthony remarked. “I suspect that she is almost equally impatient, though she hides it better.”

  “What are you going to do with the Bellairs estate?” Marianne asked her brother. “Emily mentioned in one of her letters that she thought it could be given to her sister, as the last of the Bellairs?”

  “It turns out Margaret does not want it,” Anthony said ruefully. “When the matter was suggested to her, she could not have been more positive. I never again want to live amongst that vile set of gossips and hypocritical busybodies, was the way she put it. Bellairs Hall is destined for one of our younger children, as was my original idea.”

  “When I consider how badly their neighbours treated poor Margaret, I fully sympathize with her attitude,” Marianne said. “In the meantime, maybe your mother and Mr. Langley might like to live there?”

  Anthony shook his head. “They were almost as emphatic as Margaret in rejecting that suggestion. Since all three of their children will be living in town much of the year, both are adamant that London is the best place for their new home. I have put Langley in touch with my man of business, to help pick a suitable house for them.”

  “In the next generation Bankington may have more pleasant inhabitants,” Emily said optimistically. “We can rent the Hall out in the meantime. The excellent hunting in the area should be a draw for sportsmen.”

  There was a knock on the nursery door, and presently the head nurse admitted Margaret, accompanied by Vanessa and Ruth Harris. Margaret carried her flute. “Is Marcus awake?” she said in a low voice. “We came to visit the girls, actually. I promised to show Verena as soon as I could play a melody on this flute, but I would not want to wake the babe.”

  “Go ahead, he is awake for the moment,” Marianne said. The three ladies went next door and presently a simple lilting melody was audible through the door in the thick wall.

  “For such a
short time since taking up the instrument, Margaret is doing amazingly well,” Anthony said. “She has only had two lessons from that fellow in the village, and he plays a different type of flute.”

  “I expect her proficiency on the piano and her perfect pitch carry over to a certain extent,” Marianne said. “Did it bother you when you grew up, Emily, that your older sister was so very gifted and handsome? Not that you are not too, but Margaret is out of the common way.”

  “She did make me feel inferior sometimes, and she could be bossy,” Emily admitted. “But by the age of ten I learned to hold my own. I am no pushover.”

  “No indeed,” Anthony confirmed. “And you have more common sense. But comparisons are odious. Let us agree that each sister is perfect in her own way.”

  “Why, Emily has trained you well,” Marianne teased her brother. “You are becoming quite a diplomat.”

  Presently Marianne, Emily and Anthony joined the three young ladies and two small daughters of the house, who were animatedly discussing the merits of various instruments. Young Amelia, or Amy as everyone was starting to call her, was not yet old enough to express an opinion, but she wanted to try out the flute and grabbed hold of it with her chubby fingers.

  “Amy, let go,” Marianne commanded. “Come to Mama.” It took a little persuasion to get the toddler to release the instrument, but eventually she was successfully distracted.

  “When will you be able to perform in public, on the flute?” Emily asked her sister.

  “Maybe never. I am not playing for anyone’s pleasure but my own – well, for Verena today, but it is different with children.”

  “So it is,” Marianne said. “One does for them without a second thought, what one is hesitant to do for adults.”

  Margaret stroked the instrument with her fingertip. “The flute is not easy to master. I foresee years of happy practice before I am satisfied.”

  Undoubtedly her listeners would be satisfied and admiring long before Margaret herself.

  “Now that I have all of you together,” Marianne said when they took their leave of the children, “I need to consult you on the wedding next week. There are still several details to settle.”