The Chocolate Maker’s Wife

by Karen Brooks

  ‘Oh,’ said Rosamund, uncertain what to make of this confession. Could this be true? That Mr Lovelace was responsible not only for the interior of the chocolate house, the uniforms, but for the people who worked there as well — even the marvellous talent of Filip? Was nothing the work of her husband, the man who styled himself the chocolate maker? Were even the acts of kindness she’d credited to him, such as giving Ashe work, because of this man before her? And his threats and blackmail?

  No… this was too much. It was a fabrication, surely. This man — an accomplished wordsmith no less — was not to be trusted.

  As if reading her mind, Matthew Lovelace canted towards her. ‘My threats were made with good reason. Even in your grief, you must realise there had to be sound motivation for my behaviour?’ When she didn’t respond, he appeared resigned. He started to stand. ‘I’ll not dally then but leave you to your —’ His eyes fell upon a batch of letters. ‘You’ve read my letters to your husband.’

  Afraid to speak lest she utter words she might later regret, she followed his gaze. She hadn’t even begun to explore the documents on the desk, locating the importuning notes had been enough to distract her, those and the portraits. Making a negative motion with her head, she decided that as soon as Mr Lovelace departed, she would digest the contents thoroughly.

  ‘Then,’ he said, ‘I beg of you, allow me to offer my side of this sorry story, and give you some insight into why I was so unyielding. If, at the end of it, you wish me gone, I will depart immediately and you need never endure my company again.’

  Rosamund’s heart quickened. Never was a long time. She cocked her head, thinking. What he asked was not unreasonable. Didn’t he deserve a hearing at the least? He looked so… what was it? Crumpled, like a letter squeezed in an angry fist.

  ‘What have you to lose… my Lady Harridan?’ he asked softly.

  The armour of her icy resolve began to melt. That was what she was afraid of; that she would collapse into a puddle in the heat of his presence.

  ‘Very well,’ Rosamund said as coldly as she was able. ‘Tell me.’

  Releasing a long sigh, Matthew Lovelace settled in the chair, his back to the portrait of his wife, who towered over him. He looked longingly at the wine.

  Unable to help herself, her grandmother having instilled manners, she found a glass and poured him a drink and topped up her own.

  Matthew Lovelace lifted his glass to her in salute, took a long draught and began. ‘As you are aware, I was briefly married to Sir Everard’s only daughter, Helene. I wish to relate how this came about and what occurred after we were wed so you might understand how all the subsequent calamities arose.’

  Rosamund stayed very still. Her gaze remained locked on Matthew Lovelace’s haunted face and those ardent, sapphire eyes as his tale surged out of him…

  ‘I was first introduced to Helene by her brother, Aubrey.’ He paused. ‘I’d been ordered to keep an eye on him as he was suspected of running weapons and selling state secrets to the Dutch. Since we were both students at Gray’s Inn, it wasn’t difficult to befriend him.’

  Rosamund’s eyes were upon his face, her body leaned towards him as she absorbed every word. Dear God, he prayed he could do this — give her the truth he felt she was owed. As much as he was able.

  ‘Who ordered you?’ asked Rosamund quietly.

  Matthew shifted in his seat. ‘The Lord Chancellor, Edward Hyde.’

  The widening of her eyes indicated she understood the significance of the name.

  ‘Since Sir Everard was known to be both sympathetic to the King and wealthy, before the fledgling government returned from exile, they wanted to see if there was any truth to the rumours of treason attending one Aubrey Blithman. After all, why cut off a generous benefactor by seizing his son if there was no sound reason, no proof?’

  ‘Was there? Proof?’

  How did he explain that, contrary to expectations, Aubrey was an affable sort; the kind of gentleman whose company was easy to keep. Not only was it hard to credit he would engage in such nefarious activities, within a short period Matthew found he did not want to — because of Helene.

  ‘There were claims he was running guns for the Dutch, carrying them in the holds of his ships as well as selling state secrets — so there was suspicion. Whether it was justified?’ He shrugged. ‘After I met Helene my — let’s say, enthusiasm for finding evidence faded somewhat. It’s not something I’m proud of.’

  Rosamund regarded him steadily. Unable to hold her gaze, he studied his glass.

  ‘I oft wondered if Aubrey deliberately put Helene in my path to distract me. Whatever his intentions, it worked.’

  Rosamund glanced at the portrait behind him.

  ‘Helene was… how do I describe her? Lovely to look at, that was undeniable, but it was more than that.’ He hesitated. Helene had been unlike any woman of his acquaintance. Cool and assured towards him, yet so loving and deferential towards her brother and father, she was an irresistible challenge.

  He forced himself to continue. ‘She held me at arm’s length, almost mocking my efforts, which were fuelled by her apparent indifference. It wasn’t until after I casually mentioned to Sir Everard that Aubrey was being watched by the government that everything changed. Not only did Sir Everard embrace my wooing of his daughter, but she capitulated to me in a way that was breathtaking.

  ‘When Sir Everard insisted on our immediate marriage after only a few weeks of courtship, I was torn. If I married into the Blithman family, then where did my loyalties lie? I’d been hired to investigate Aubrey — quietly, surreptitiously. Telling Sir Everard of my suspicions was a ploy to ferret out the degree to which he was involved, and to force Aubrey to reveal his hand — if there was a hand to be revealed. To answer your earlier question, I was never certain if the reasons I was given to look into Aubrey’s affairs were sound. The evidence, if you could call it that, was shaky at best. At least, that’s what I told myself once I understood Helene was to be my bride.’ He gave a self-conscious laugh and reached for his wine.

  ‘I still remember Sir Everard welcoming me into this very room and reassuring me that even if Aubrey was indulging in such reckless and foolish schemes (which he very much doubted), these would not only cease forthwith, but Aubrey would be dispatched to the colonies after my marriage, so any rumours surrounding these baseless accusations could die off. There was no need for me to take these nasty rumours further, was there? Helene awaited. If that wasn’t enough to tempt me, he added that I would become the son he’d always wanted… someone to not only share in the Blithman wealth but in expanding it.’ Matthew knocked back the last of his wine and without asking, poured himself more.

  ‘In marrying Helene, I sold my soul.’

  It was a while before Matthew spoke again. ‘Our marriage was not what I hoped. Helene would oft take to her bed for days, pleading megrims, weeping for hours, but refusing to reveal the source of her grief, which I came to assume was me. Everything became worse after Aubrey, just as his father promised, departed for the New World.

  ‘At first I was annoyed, believing I’d married someone who would use the misery of tempests and dazzle of sunshine to force her way. It wasn’t until she shared the news of a child that I understood the source of her ambivalence and, God knows, I revelled in the notion of a babe. Though Helene sought to deny her family this joyous news, I could not. It was then Sir Everard tempted me once more: this time, with a chocolate house.’

  He couldn’t help but smile when Rosamund gasped. ‘Yes. He wished us to be partners in the enterprise of chocolate. In order for this to happen, I had to learn what I could, source materials, find the right man to make the drink for us. That meant travelling. The last thing I wanted to do was leave Helene’s side, but Sir Everard insisted.

  ‘More than ever, I had to look to the future. I had a burgeoning family to support. Reluctantly, I travelled with Sir Everard to Spain. While there, we contracted the services of a fine chocolate maker befor
e sailing on to Venice to make more purchases for the business.’

  Smoothing his hand over his mouth and chin, he thought about his next words. ‘Much to my gratification, on my return to England, I found my wife swollen like the globe I’d sailed: she was now, I told myself, my new world.’ He ran a finger around the rim of his glass. ‘I indulged her, loving her round form. Was it not our creation she carried? I introduced her to chocolate, purchased sweetmeats and other delicacies to spoil her.’

  He paused for a long moment. ‘I’d only been home a few weeks when news reached London that Aubrey had died. I was shocked. Helene was inconsolable. Having lost one brother already, Aubrey’s death was too much for her. Not even the knowledge that, with his death, the family’s reputation as loyal subjects could be restored offered any consolation. Only the prospect of relocating to the place where Aubrey died gave her solace. She could not release the notion; would not. Night after night, she would whisper her longing to me. As if she’d already departed these shores, she turned completely from her mother and father, refused their efforts to comfort her. She would not tolerate their presence.

  ‘It was as if with Aubrey’s death, she renounced all those she could call family — myself included.’ He pulled a sour face.

  ‘It wasn’t long before the New World began to appeal more than the Old, especially if the Old meant megrims, wailing, sulks, vast silences, whispers of treachery and bribes, denial of intimacy. I felt like a sheep without a flock. Suddenly, London seemed as lonely as my wife claimed. I began to reconsider her proposition. The moment I did, her entire demeanour towards me changed.

  ‘Over and over Helene made me promise that as soon as the child was born, we would leave and start a new life. As soon as I raised an obstacle, she would become hysterical. I was afraid for her health and that of my unborn child. Despite the promise of a chocolate house and my good relations with Sir Everard, in the end, I agreed. I felt I’d no choice. Helene was transformed. She began to make plans. Afeared her father would foil them, she begged me not to breathe a word; it was to be our secret, our adventure. Seeing the changes in her, in her affection towards me, my misgivings fled and I abided by her demands.’

  He lowered his head, shaking it slowly. His throat grew tight. Clearing it, he raised his chin.

  ‘According to the midwife, the baby was early. When he was three weeks old he was taken to the parish church for christening and then, finally, to Blithe Manor. Poor Lady Margery had been unwell and unable to leave her rooms. It was only after I threatened to reveal our intentions that Helene agreed to bring little Everard to her.

  ‘When Lady Margery took the babe in her arms and pulled aside his swaddling, there was a fraught whispered exchange. Helene’s face hardened while her mother’s melted into tears. The way Helene was regarding her mother and, in turn, the manner in which Lady Margery was staring at her, I was uncertain what exactly transpired. Before I could interrupt, Helene whipped the child out of her mother’s arms and left the room without another word. I was dumbfounded. Apologising to Lady Margery, explaining Helene was too soon out of childbed, I bade her farewell and swiftly followed my wife.

  ‘She was with her father in the corridor. Helene was greatly distressed. Everard offered to arrange for us to be taken home. Helene almost spat at him and said something which struck me as most peculiar. She said: “You of all people, Father, should know I have no home. You made certain of that.”

  ‘Sir Everard stared at her with what I can only describe as loving revulsion. At a signal from him, I led her away. I began to believe Helene was right; there was nothing for us here any more.

  ‘That very night, we boarded a Blithman ship and, when the tide turned, we were sailing for the colonies.’

  Matthew stood and began to pace. He stopped by the hearth and picked up the poker. As he prodded the coals, sparks rained upon his boots.

  Replacing the poker carefully, he continued. ‘Once we reached the Slave Coast, we took on something I should have anticipated — human cargo.’ He looked towards Jacopo. ‘Slaves.’

  Rosamund’s lips thinned as her eyes also sought Jacopo’s.

  ‘There were over five hundred of the poor souls, chained and crammed into the hold. If… If I’d known… but I was unable to alter the route let alone the spoils of the voyage. The ship was not mine to command.’ He sighed and rubbed his temples.

  Rosamund opened her mouth to speak but stopped. Matthew merely nodded, grateful for her silence, her lack of judgement. With a slight nod, Jacopo urged him to continue.

  ‘While on the Slave Coast, we also received our first news from England. Turns out, the very night we snuck away on board the ship, Lady Margery passed into the Lord’s arms.’

  ‘No!’ Rosamund exclaimed.

  Taking her shock as a cue, Matthew resumed his seat, all without glancing once at Helene’s portrait. ‘Yes. Although she had been bedridden when we saw her, her death was unexpected. I chose then and there not to tell Helene — at least, not yet. She’d borne enough. I didn’t want to add guilt to what I believed would yet become a heavier burden,’ He gave a cynical twist of his lips. ‘As it was, I never had a chance.

  ‘There was a mutiny. Erupting from the hold, the slaves sought their freedom. I didn’t blame them. Scared for Helene and the baby’s safety, I did the only thing I could think of — I put them aboard a sturdy row boat attached to the ship and lowered it into the water. The seas were high, but it was less dangerous than being among the murderers and cutthroats on deck — and by that I do not only mean the slaves. The crew were fearsome and blood-thirsty. Cruel. They didn’t much care who they stabbed or disembowelled. Who they ran through with a sword or tossed overboard.’ He paused to drink. Rosamund didn’t move.

  ‘It didn’t take long for the rebellion to be quelled. The fires that had been started were doused; the ringleaders were dispatched, their bodies thrown over the sides, their followers tamed with more lashes.

  ‘It was dark by the time it was safe for Helene and baby to return to the ship. The seas were quieter now, and I sought the help of one of the crew to haul the tiny vessel back in. When we did, it was to find the rope had been cut — tellingly, at the boat end.’

  ‘Matthew…’ Rosamund began to reach for him, but then withdrew her arm.

  Matthew met her eyes. ‘There’s no doubt in my mind, Helene severed it. Even so, I shouted until I was hoarse. Along with the crew, I threw torches into the ocean. But the seas were empty, the arcs of brief light revealed nothing but the bodies of the slaves. Only the swell of the waves, the peaceful growl of the ocean and the plash of water against the hull answered my cries.

  ‘I don’t remember when I returned to the cabin; I was exhausted and in such a state of despair. But there was one more surprise awaiting me: a small fire had been started in the cabin — upon a table against the wall, but it hadn’t quite taken. In its centre were dozens and dozens of letters. At first, I ignored them and sat by the small window and waited for the sun to rise, breathing in lungfuls of fresh air, allowing the stench of smoke and charcoaled paper to disperse. I could barely think, let alone move. Grief was an anchor that weighed me down. I barely recall the hours passing, only that they did. As soon as dawn splintered the horizon, I returned to the deck and scanned the ocean.

  After a few hours, the boat was found — adrift and empty. There was no sign of life. It was as if Helene and the baby had vanished.

  ‘I fell into what I can only describe as a paroxysm of guilt and despair. I blamed myself. If only I’d hardened myself against Helene’s entreaties, never agreed to leave England, if only I’d turned to Sir Everard for help; if only I’d sought the services of a physician. If only, if only…’ He hesitated. ‘Instead, I sought the comfort of the bottle. Locked in the tiny cabin, I refused any company except the misery of my own thoughts. I didn’t shed a tear, but drank myself into blessed oblivion, Helene’s dresses draped across my lap, the babe’s blankets over my heart.

  ‘Los
t in a fug of wine, brandy and whatever rotgut the captain left outside my cabin, it wasn’t until the ship drew close to land that I remembered the letters.

  ‘Barely able to gather my thoughts, let alone consider what they might mean, I nonetheless read them. Only a couple were burned beyond saving. The rest were perfectly legible. I hoped they would allow me to understand this mercurial, difficult woman I’d briefly loved.’

  He’d promised Rosamund the truth; what he didn’t expect was that it would surprise him. Over the years, he’d tried to convince himself he hadn’t loved Helene, that it had been an infatuation. Perhaps that’s all it had been. Perhaps what he’d loved was the idea of her…

  Rosamund was staring at her lap. He willed her to look at him again.

  ‘You know what was contained in those missives?’

  At his question, Rosamund lifted her enormous brown eyes to him, impossible to read in the flickering light.

  He took a deep breath. ‘They were filled with declarations of undying love for Helene. They were not mine, you understand, but her lover’s.’

  Rosamund’s mouth formed a perfect O.

  ‘Dating back to long before I ever entered Helene’s life, they also revealed something I’d begun to suspect.’ He paused. ‘You see, the baby, the little boy Helene had named Everard, was not mine.’

  Rosamund released a small cry, her fingers to her mouth.

  ‘I always wondered why you referred to him as the babe…’

  ‘Now you know.’ He frowned. ‘Just when I thought I could not be cut any deeper, feel more like a cuckold and a fool, I learned that Sir Everard had known. Worse, he had conspired with both Helene and Aubrey to find her a husband so the child would not be born a bastard and her reputation and the Blithman name would not suffer.’ He shrugged helplessly.