by Jocelyn Kirk
I curtsied. “A pleasure, my lord.”
Charles was then ready to conduct me into the house. I stepped through the familiar rooms to the small parlor, where a servant was tending a fire. The room was warm and pleasant, and I was grateful to sink into a comfortable chair and rest after my long journey. Charles ordered refreshments and settled next to Lord Doneagan on a sofa facing the fireplace.
“I have one question,” I began with a smile. “Why were you cavorting about on the lawn when I arrived?”
Charles returned my smile. “I’m sure that had a very odd appearance! Robert and I were celebrating our good fortune, as outlined in this letter I received shortly before you arrived.” He indicated the paper his friend was still holding. “The letter comes from London and announces my mother’s death.”
“Her death! You were dancing on the lawn because of your mother’s death?”
“Criticize me if you wish, Cassandra, for truly it must seem an abomination for me to celebrate the end of my mother’s life. But to me her death means freedom. Since I was a very young man, my mother has importuned me to make a good marriage and provide the estate with an heir. I would gladly have granted you a divorce were it not for her ruthless efforts to prevent it.”
My mouth opened in astonishment. “Good heavens, Charles! You did not want to maintain this marriage any more than I!”
“I never wanted it in the first place! My mother insisted because she knew where my real desire lay. She feared if I grew to an age at which I was less under her control, I would never marry. She knew that I—”
“I am not naïve, Charles. You may speak frankly to me. Judging from the gossip in Bath and the evidence of my friend Lady Lovell, it appears you prefer men to women. You need not fear my reaction. I do not condemn you or others like you.”
“Thank you, Cassandra,” Charles breathed. He turned to his friend and smiled, and then faced me once again. “Robert and I have been in love for years, ever since he visited here with his family when I was but nineteen and he sixteen. Mother saw enough to be suspicious, and for the next six years she was intent on making a marriage for me.”
“Why did you not resist, Charles? Why did you marry me?”
“Two reasons: I felt duty-bound to provide an heir at that time—I no longer do—and also, I could easily see you were besotted with Bartholomew Loch.”
“You knew that?”
“Yes, I am not stupid, Cassie. I thought you would have a liaison with him, relieving me of the burden of acting the part of a normal husband. When you ran away with him, my first thought was to seek a divorce, but my mother blocked me at every turn. She had influential friends in London, and she informed me very openly that she would do all in her power to force us to stay in the marriage.”
I sat back and stared, completely speechless for the moment. My father and Charles’s mother had sacrificed the happiness of their children for their own petty reasons: my father for his pride and desire for complete control, and Charles’s mother to procure an heir and avoid a scandal.
But they had not succeeded!
I looked with new eyes at my husband and his lover. They could not control their love for each other, and was love not a wonderful thing in whatever form? I rose and went to the sofa. Placing myself between them, I took one hand of each.
“I wish you both a lifetime of happiness,” I whispered with tears in my eyes. “I am in love also, and with a very good man. I want only to marry him, and now perhaps…”
Charles carried my hand to his lips. “You will have your divorce, Cassie. Nothing will stand in its way.”
“We will go to London,” added Robert, “and push for its quick granting.”
“I have only one request,” said Charles with a grin. “Robert and I must be allowed to visit and be introduced to your husband.”
“I would be delighted!”
“As lovely as you are,” said Robert, “you will have bonny babes. I stake my claim with Charles. We must visit.”
“We will procure the divorce decree,” added Charles, “and carry it to you in person.”
I had gone from the expectation of an unpleasant confrontation to a new beginning with two new friends! How strange life can be! How wonderful!
Charles insisted I stay the entire day and night with him, and I needed little pressing to accept. My driver, his horse, and I all needed a good rest. I spoke to the driver myself and ensured he was well looked after, and satisfied on that point, I went to my appointed chamber to rest before dinner. Robert, who accompanied me, along with a maid, begged me not to trouble myself with dressing formally for the meal. I took him at his word and after resting and bathing, dressed myself simply and made my way to the dining parlor.
With the exception of being with John, Georgina, and my sisters, I have not enjoyed a happier meal. Charles and Robert were in fine humor, and the talk and laughter flew about the table. Robert was besotted with the possibilities of steam power, and I found myself highly intrigued by his ideas. We debated that issue, discussed the latest publications, and told merry stories about our acquaintances. We drank several toasts to poor Mrs. Stanfield, but it was obviously impossible for Charles to feel any emotion other than relief at her passing. Sadness would come later, I suspected, when he was accustomed to his new freedom.
The rest of the day flew by, and after a delightful supper of stew and scones, I retired to my room, smiling to myself as I made ready for sleep.
The next morning, I bade farewell to Charles and Robert. They would be off for London shortly after my departure for the home of James Wellerton. The day was warm and dry, and the well-rested horse made short work of the twenty-mile journey. After a few inquiries regarding the location of the Wellerton estate, we paused for tea and cakes, baited the horse, and drove to our destination.
As we traveled, I gazed entranced at the beauty of the country. Kent is a fine county in general, but the area through which we passed was lush with woodlands, meadows covered in early flowers, and prosperous farms with their thatched cottages and flocks of fat sheep. From the main road through the countryside, we turned south and passed through a small village. Only a mile farther on, we reached the gates of Sea Winds, the Wellerton estate.
The iron palings of the locked gate halted our progress, but the driver pulled the bell and soon a servant unlocked the gate and ushered us through. I inquired for Mr. Ivan Wellerton and learned he was at home.
“The master’s gone a-shooting, ma’am,” the servant informed me, “but Mr. Ivan is in. Drive to the entrance, and the butler will take you to ’im.”
We followed the curving drive to a handsome stone edifice, not large, but spacious enough for comfort. The grounds were tidy, with a pretty gravel path leading from one side of the house into gardens and shrubberies. I admired all I saw, and I wondered why Ivan would go about the country teaching piano when he could surely reside here with his uncle, if he were the heir.
No one was about, so my driver dismounted and rapped with his whip on the door. As soon as the door was opened—by a portly butler—I could hear the sound of a piano. A beautiful, mesmerizing melody drew me from the carriage. The butler asked me to step inside and ushered me to a plainly furnished parlor. He stepped out to fetch Mr. Ivan and order tea.
The music stopped, and within moments a tall, golden-haired young man stood in the doorway and stared at me. I rose and extended my hand.
“Mr. Ivan Wellerton? I am Cassandra Tenley Stanfield, the sister of Aleta Tenley.”
Mr. Wellerton gasped but managed an awkward bow.
“I must speak with you,” I continued. “It is urgent.”
He stared at me, his mouth gaping. “Good God, are you here to report terrible news? What has happened?”
I took his arm and smiled. “Mr. Wellerton, I do not bring you a distressing communication. Please—may we be seated and speak calmly?”
He slumped and fetched a deep breath. “Forgive me,” he pleaded. “I assumed a visit fro
m Aleta’s sister could only mean—Forgive me. I have been very rude. Pray be seated. Let me call for refreshments.”
“Your butler has ordered tea,” I replied as I reseated myself.
“Good. Now tell me, Mrs. Stanfield, what brings you to Sea Winds? If you are here to berate me for falling in love with your sister, you have wasted a journey.”
“No, no,” I assured him with a laugh. “Quite the contrary.”
A maid entered with tea, and our conversation abated until we were alone again. I quickly resumed speaking.
“Mr. Wellerton, my sister is with child and very near her confinement.”
Ivan’s teacup rattled as he dropped it into the saucer. “With child! No, she cannot be! She would have informed me.”
“She should have informed you,” I said, “but she did not want to press you for marriage and cause you to lose your inheritance.”
Ivan leaned forward, dropping his teacup on a hassock. “Good God. I thought she went away to forget me because we could not wed immediately. I knew I could convince my uncle in time, and when he met Aleta, he could not help but love her. I wrote her to explain my hope to marry in about a year’s time, but my letter came back unopened.”
“Aleta is awaiting her confinement in a cottage in Wales. If you love her, you will journey there and marry her immediately. Surely your uncle would not disown you and risk the health and safety of his own great-niece or -nephew.”
I had more to say, but I halted my speech when Ivan rose and paced the room. “I must go to her! I will take care of her and our child under any circumstances.”
“Yes!” I quickly agreed. “Time is of the essence. Pray be quick to preserve the child from the stain of illegitimacy.”
“Tell me exactly where she is, and I will begin my journey today.”
I explained how to reach the cottage and then announced I would take my leave, for I was anxious to reach North Commons Abbey. Ivan accompanied me to my carriage, and as he handed me in, I remembered a question I wished to ask.
“Mr. Wellerton, forgive my curiosity, but I wonder why you would work as a piano master when you have this lovely estate for a residence.”
He smiled. “Your curiosity is natural. I am my uncle’s heir, and he treats me with parental kindness. I have no need to work as a teacher.”
“Then why—”
“Can you not guess, Mrs. Stanfield? I met Aleta two years ago by chance in London. She was there for the season with her cousin, and I was in town for two weeks with my uncle. We met at the home of a mutual acquaintance, and something happened between us—it is difficult to explain.”
I shook my head. “You do not need to explain. I understand what you mean.”
“In the course of a few meetings,” he continued, “I fell in love with her. I knew it was wrong, but I took advantage of her desire to improve her mastery of the pianoforte and engaged myself as her instructor.”
“Very wrong, indeed,” I replied, smiling to soften my words, “but love has its own set of rules.”
He sighed. “It does. It certainly does.”
I patted his hand. “Mr. Wellerton, I am pleased to know your feelings and intentions are sincere. As you can well imagine, I have been most concerned for my sister’s happiness.”
“Of course. I assure you I will do all in my power to ensure her happiness. And Mrs. Stanfield, let me add that it has been a pleasure meeting you. Thank you for coming.”
I was very reassured by this conversation. Aleta’s lover appeared a steady and committed young man. My thought, however, as I began the journey to North Commons, was this—would his love survive the rage of Sir Winslow and the anger of his uncle? I could only hope.
Chapter Seventeen
Upon reaching North Commons, I dismissed my hired carriage, paying the driver handsomely for his excellent service. The day was chilly and rainy, for it was early spring, and I hastened to pull the bell of the massive door, hoping to see Cratt quickly fling it open.
It was a few minutes before a maid opened the portal. She recognized me and curtsied. “Where is Cratt?” I asked as I hurried inside.
“He is in the winter parlor, ma’am, trying to calm Sir Winslow. Things are quite in an uproar.”
I did not ask questions but instead hurried through the familiar halls to the winter parlor. Raised voices accosted me, so I entered without knocking and halted at the sight before me.
My mother on the sofa held a handkerchief to her face. Cratt gripped the arm of my father, as though to prevent him from striking the gentleman who stood before him. My father shouted and waved his free arm, while trying to shake off the butler.
As I entered the room, they all turned toward me, and I staggered against the doorway in shock. The gentleman arguing with my father was Dr. John Carter!
“John!” I cried.
“There she is!” shouted my father. “You demanded to see my whore of a daughter, and there she is. Now take her and get out!”
John stepped to my father and spoke into his face. “Do not ever, sir, refer in such terms to the woman I love. You speak of Cassandra so, when you have at least three children born of women other than your wife? Your hypocrisy is disgusting.”
My mother wept louder, and I knew not whether to hurry to her or throw myself into the arms of my lover. I simply stood in the doorway and stared. John hurried to me.
“Cassie! Why did you take this long journey alone? My love, I would have gone with you!”
Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, overcame me, and a black cloud blinded my vision. I clutched at John. When I regained my senses, I lay on my mother’s sofa and she and John bent over me. A glance about the room told me that my father had left the scene.
“What happened?” I gasped.
“You fainted,” said John. “You need rest and nourishment.”
I tried to sit up, and John assisted me. “Lady Tenley,” he said, “could you have a substantial meal prepared for Cassandra? She must remain here until she has eaten, and then I order her to bed as her physician.”
My mother wrung her hands. “But Sir Winslow will not allow her to stay.”
“But, why, Mother? I stayed here before.”
“It is my fault,” admitted John. “In the course of my argument with him, I told him I intended to marry you when your husband finally granted a divorce.”
“Oh dear. But how came you here?”
“Let me start at the beginning. When Aleta told me of your clandestine journey, I engaged Lila to assist the villagers with medical treatments. I then left for Kent and, reaching London, asked for the direction to your husband’s estate, believing you to be there. No one was there, and the butler informed me that his master had gone to London.”
“Yes!” I interrupted. “To procure a divorce!”
John’s eyes widened, and his face broke into a smile. “A divorce? Truly?”
“Truly,” I assured him. “He promised to use his influence to assure a speedy decree. But please finish your explanation. How came you to North Commons? What caused the dispute with my father?”
John took my hand and kissed it. His glowing eyes revealed the joy in his heart.
“To continue my story, upon leaving Mr. Stanfield’s home, I came on here, believing you to be visiting your mother. I introduced myself to your parents, and your father—upon learning my identity and place of residence—expressed his opinion that I should leave his home immediately. I demanded to see you, and he declared he did not know your whereabouts and furthermore did not care. In my anger and fear for your safety, I told him we must find you.”
My mother settled herself on the sofa next to me and gently brushed a wisp of hair from my face. “Do not be distressed, my dear. Sir Winslow may be angry, but I am quite delighted with your Dr. Carter.”
“Mama, dear Mama!” I cried, embracing her. “How shall I part from you again?”
Before we could continue our conversation, my father re-entered the room. “Cassandra,
I have ordered the coach. You will leave my house immediately.”
Without considering what I was about to do, I called out to him in the strongest voice I could muster, “I will leave, Father, but I am taking my mother with me!”
“That is an excellent idea, Cassie,” John agreed. Turning to my father, he spoke forcefully but calmly, “You, Sir Winslow, have betrayed your marriage vows and forfeited your right to the love and comfort of a wife. I do not know, but I suspect, Lady Tenley has borne a great deal of emotional cruelty in this house. Her three daughters are all in Caemre, and she can enjoy a most delightful visit. Whether or not she returns here is her decision.”
Needless to say, my father ranted and stormed, and my mother wept and delayed; but in the end John conducted both of us to the coach and we set off on our journey to Caemre. It was a most happy voyage indeed! John watched over me to ensure I ate and rested, and my mother improved in spirits with every mile that took her from North Commons. We had much to discuss and explain, and my mother was overjoyed to learn she would soon be a grandmother to Aleta’s child.
The journey was long, for the weather had turned wet and the roads were muddy. But the chat and laughter in the coach as we rocked along for nearly four days dispelled the tedium. John treated my mother with the care and kindness of a true friend, and my mother’s usual silent and fearful bearing disappeared in the warmth of the affection we bestowed on her.
When we arrived at the cottage—seated in an undignified manner in the post-boy’s trap, to my mother’s amusement and delight—we were surprised to see several carriages in the garden and three or four horses in the paddock. I quickly recognized Jesse’s chaise.
Our first welcome came from Mattie, who rushed out to greet us. Lila came next, running to embrace her mother and then me. We were all talking at once as we entered the cottage and saw such a gathering before us—Ivan Wellerton, Jesse, Georgina, Eliot Sparkman, Deirdre, the children, and the village vicar!
With all the noise of greetings, several minutes passed before we learned what was happening. Ivan had arrived a few days before, and he and Aleta wished to marry immediately so her child would be legitimate. The time fixed on was just before our arrival, but Aleta had suddenly collapsed in severe pain. The midwife arrived and conducted Aleta upstairs to begin her confinement.
