Saints and Sinners

by Karen V. Wasylowski

  Bridget hesitated at first but then nodded, sending her husband and son off with the others, promising to be along straight away.

  “First, let me say that I harbor no ill will toward you for leaving suddenly nine years ago. We are sisters-in-law now. I should like us to be friends.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Durand.”

  “You must call me Anne Marie. Please.”

  “Of course.” Bridget swallowed. “Anne Marie.”

  An awkward silence followed until a tearful Anne Marie suddenly pulled Bridget into a tight hug, “I understand now what happened, why you felt it necessary to run off with Alex. I do understand,” she whispered in her ear.

  Bridget’s face flushed red and she pushed back from the embrace. “I have no idea to what you refer.”

  “I see him in Ewan, you know. I see Matthew. It all makes sense now – the animosity between my cousin and Alex, your sudden departure from my house, your impetuous marriage. Poor thing, you had no other choice in the end, did you? I know that now.”

  “Stop, please.” Bridget’s eyes flashed with anger. “I had better leave. My husband will be waiting for me.”

  “All I ask is that you be careful of your actions from this point on. Marriage is sacred. Vows are sacred. Alex is a wonderful man, he’s become like a second brother to me. He’s a loving father to Ewan, a devoted husband to you, and one of the most noble men I’ve ever been privileged to meet. Do not hurt him, I beg of you.”

  Humiliated by the truth, Bridget pushed Anne Marie from her path, crying as she stormed out, “You overstep your bounds, Mrs. Durand. You overstep decency.”

  Chapter 25

  Weary of listening to her son’s excited chatter, Bridget slipped quietly from the room. After his afternoon skating practices with the Darcy and Fitzwilliam grandchildren it had been a non-ending litany of that wonderful family, of their athletic prowess, of their scholastic abilities, in other words, her worst nightmare – she was losing her son to this overwhelming family, to their power and their fame. Matthew was at the center of it all, she told herself, manipulating their lives for his own amusement.

  Or, perhaps he was simply her center, and that was the real problem…

  The door to their bedroom at the Claridges’ Inn opened and her husband entered. “Are you ready to leave?”

  “Yes. No. Must I go to this skating party?”

  After a moment’s hesitation Alex closed the door. He ran a hand through his hair. “It is entirely your decision, Bridget. However, Ewan is excited for you to see him play; it would be...”

  “Cruel not to. Yes, I know.”

  “It’s a children’s party, Bridget; Ewan’s become friends with several of them. He cares about these people.” Using his cane to steady himself he moved slowly to sit beside her on the bed. “Truth is he is enjoying himself and the children have taken to him whole heartedly. Why, when some fool at the skating pond ridiculed his occasional Scottish phrases the cousins – girls included – all lined up on either side of Ewan, as if they were daring anyone else to say another word against him. I confess it brought tears to my eyes. It was heartwarming.”

  She nodded her understanding but still worried. “Was he there?” Alex knew she meant Matthew. Would they ever be rid of that man?

  “Yes.”

  “Was he awful to you?”

  “Not in the least. He ignored me at first, then progressed to aloof but polite when Harry and Alice insisted I sit with them to watch the children skate. He doesn’t bother me, dearest. I can tolerate anything for Ewan’s sake, and you must admit the boy has been happier these past days, now that he has other children with whom to play. I tell you what, if it is that distressful you needn’t come. I’ll say you have a headache, or it’s your woman’s time. You know no man would ever question that.”

  Grinning, she took his hand and kissed it. “Somehow I can’t see you explaining about my Monthly Visitor. No, I’ll just need to learn how to deal with this somehow. Especially since Ewan and I will be remaining in London for much longer than we anticipated.”

  “You’re remaining?” Pleased and surprised, he hugged her, kissed her forehead. “You’ll no be leavin’ me then, a thasgaidh, here in this heathen land o’hades, all on me own?”

  “Yer aff yer haid, mon, if y’imagine I’d leave y’alone w’these Sassenach women.”

  Matthew and his wife arrived for the children’s skating party, their morning spent together in stony silence. Amanda Rose, along with the other children, had spent overnight at the house of his brother Harry and all were squealing and laughing with delight. In fact, the pond teemed with skaters, young and old, the weather bright and sunny, the temperature warm for a January day.

  “How utterly appalling.” Clarissa wished to convey that she was attending under protest and continued her icy glare even as the carriage door was opened and the footman helped her descend the steps.

  “She speaks!”

  “These people should still be in mourning – well, except for your family, of course. They always are contrary.”

  Matthew ignored her as Alice and Harry approached hand in hand to greet them.

  “You’re late, Matthew, but we’ve saved some cocoa and sandwiches for you both. Hello, Clarissa.” Harry kissed her cheek lightly.

  “I hope my daughter is not among those shrieking children.”

  “Of course she is,” Alice bristled. “No, I take that back, we have her locked beneath the butler’s pantry at home reading the bible.”

  As always, battle lines were being drawn and Harry stepped in between them. “Amanda is playing with the others and having a wonderful time. Although where they all get the energy this morning is a mystery; there was little sleep last night, I can tell you. They were playing pranks on one another until Alice finally put a stop to it at around nine in the evening.”

  “Huh! A fine example being set for these children, I must say.”

  "Move aside, Harold, please.” Alice stepped around her husband, raised herself to her full height – which was still several inches shorter than Clarissa – and jutted out her chin. “What is your meaning, Clarissa? They were asleep by quarter past nine. They all had plenty of rest.”

  “Ridiculous frivolity. I say they should continue to be mourning their prince, a simple matter of respect which is so foreign to certain people.”

  “I say our wonderful prince would never demand an entire empire be run to ground just to appease attention seeking hypocrites. We should be able to get on with our lives; children should be allowed some sort of enjoyment.”

  “Enough, the both of you are tiresome.” Matthew turned away from the women to speak with his brother. The disagreements between his family and his wife were never ending. “Sorry I missed the games. How did young Ewan perform?”

  “Brilliantly. He was the hero of the hour. The lad is a natural athlete.”

  Matthew beamed. “Excellent. Is everyone here?”

  “Yes – well, everyone except Mark, of course. I was there to visit yesterday, and his mood seemed much the same. I’ve never known him to be so detached.”

  “I know, he’s even keeping things from me. I don’t like it.”

  “Evidently Bunny is by his side again. Is the wedding back on schedule? I heard he was considering leaving for America with Ted.”

  “That’s what she claims. No idea what’s going on. Frankly, I think he’s insane to want to marry at all; still, I’d rather that than have him so far away.”

  “Why are those children screaming?” Clarissa was always uncomfortable around children, preferred it when they were silent, or better yet, completely absent.

  “They are enjoying themselves, Clarissa. You remember childhood, do you not? I realize it was years and years and years ago, but…”

  “Matthew, be serious for once. The weather has been unpredictable, cold one day, warm another. I insist Amanda Rose stop that foolishness. I really have a bad feeling about this. Matthew? Are you listening to me? Te
ll her to come in off the ice.”

  “No! It’s a beautiful day and the children are happy. Must you spoil everything?” He turned to Harry again. “Is Papa judging the ice races? Good, he’ll make certain the little ones win then. I see Beth and Meg warming themselves by a delicious looking fire and a servant pouring out hot toddies. You aren’t coming, are you, Clarissa?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “Thank heaven.” Matthew pointed to his brother Ted, sitting and laughing with Darcy and Elizabeth. “You should visit with Father Ted. He was mentioning just yesterday that he wanted to discuss theology and you’re just the person to knock that idea out of his head.”

  Clarissa’s gaze zeroed on the priest before she hurried down the path toward that happy group. Alice slapped her cousin’s shoulder.

  “Ow! Why ever did you do that?”

  “Because you are a positively awful brother.”

  “Father Ted’s profession is to be kind; takes the load off the rest of us.”

  “Go and speak with your father; and, while you’re there, make certain you ask God’s forgiveness for that last remark.”

  Chapter 26

  “Matthew, come join me.” His father’s call from a bench that had been pulled to the edge of the skating pond was a welcome diversion. The Fitzwilliam butler and a footman were standing beside him making snowballs for the old man to throw as children dodged past, squealing and laughing. “Help me with this! I’m to give them each a half-crown if I miss, and I’m a terrible shot.”

  The moment she saw her father Amanda Rose skated over (ducking a feeble toss by her grandfather) and hobbled across thick snow on her skates. “Papa, I thought you’d never get here!” She threw her arms around his waist and, as ever, lifted Matthew’s spirits to the heavens.

  “Hello, Dodger,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Hello, Fagan,” she replied. He kissed the top of her head, held her close. “Are you being careful? I see you’re under attack here.”

  “Grandpa Fitz hasn’t hit me once! Do you know, at times I think he deliberately misses?”

  Fitzwilliam was clearly insulted. “Is that a fact? I shall have you know young lady that I put the ruth in ruthless, the brute in brutal, the heart in heartless! I show no mercy.” As she rolled her eyes at that remark, Fitz tossed snow on her.

  Laughing, Matthew brushed the flakes from his daughter’s hair. “Your mother is concerned about all the roughhousing on the ice. She said to tell you –”

  “Hello, sir. It’s very good to see you again.”

  Skating up to the edge of the pond was Ewan Durand, stopping beside the bench and allowing Fitzwilliam to hit him in the leg with a snowball. “You’re taking all the fun out of this!” Fitz complained. “At least give me the illusion of resistance.” Matthew stilled. The sight of grandfather and grandson together had knocked the wind from him.

  “Come here and sit beside me, Ewan.” He turned to Matthew. “Earlier he was telling me all about the Highlands. Did you know he can play the bagpipe, Matthew? Seems excessively cruel to me.”

  “But, not verra well, sir,” Ewan laughed. “Sometimes I just wheeze. My Papa is brilliant at it, though.”

  As Fitzwilliam ruffled the boy’s hair he caught his son’s eye, kept it, willing Matthew to remain calm. It was then that Matthew knew his father was aware of who the child’s father really was. “Is that right?”

  “Oh, aye. He piped us a lovely tune on New Year’s Day. Everyone at the Inn applauded him.”

  It was silly, but Matthew felt like weeping as he watched the two. The old man and the young boy before him looking like opposite ends of a lifespan, the ascendance of youth to the decline of age. Only a fool wouldn’t notice the resemblance.

  “I say, Ewan… is your mother with you today?” He heard his father’s intake of breath, saw the disapproval in his eyes.

  “Aye. Although I dinnae – do not see her now. I believe she said she was chilled and wanted to walk, mentioned visiting somewhere nearby she frequented years ago when she lived here, before she married Papa.”

  He looked away and grinned. There was a bench nearby in the park where they often had met years before, when she was the nanny, a pretty Scottish lassie with a figure to make a man’s mouth water. It was at that bench where they had fallen in love with each other.

  “Come on, Ewan. Shall we race to the end of the pond and back?” Amanda squealed when the boy grabbed her hand and the two children skated away.

  Matthew turned to his father. “Sorry you had to find out this way.”

  Fitzwilliam grunted, never taking his gaze from his grandson. “Find out what? That you’ve been in love with another man’s wife for years; or, that while I prayed you and that silly wife of yours would finally produce a male heir, you had a son I would never be able to acknowledge?”

  Matthew bristled. Leave it to his father to make him look too closely at himself. “Yes. That pretty much sums it up.”

  “Son, I knew already about both. I suspected as much when she ran off with Durand. You remember I told you I had gone to have a word with her? Interesting aside, did you know that after seeing your mother through almost a dozen pregnancies I often can recognize an enceinte woman?”

  “And, thanks to her and that bastard I had no knowledge of my own son, damn her.” Matthew looked down at his fisted hands willing them to relax. “Sorry to have disappointed you.”

  “What nonsense is this? You sired that wonderful boy out there, Matthew. It’s enough for me to have seen him, spoken with him. I couldn’t be more pleased that he is alive in the world; we even have him in the family, if distantly. However, if you refer to leaving your lover alone and enceinte, then I am the wrong person with whom you should be remorseful.”

  “That is damn unfair, father! I had no idea she was carrying my child. I only found out a few weeks ago, when I met them at Uncle Wills house. I was devastated.”

  “I can well imagine. What about this Harrow business, your wanting me to intervene there – is this the reason for encouraging his attendance?”

  “Yes, of course it is. I want to know him; I need him near me, not in the wilds of Scotland! I’ve missed too much of his life already.”

  Sighing, Fitzwilliam scratched at his whiskers. “I’m too bloody old to go through this again.”

  “Again?”

  “You believe you’re the first to father a child on the wrong side of the blanket? That’s almost a national pastime for the upper classes. You’re not even the first in our family.”

  “Good God, do I have yet another revolting brother running wild through London?”

  “Are you insane? Aunt Catherine would have killed me, never mind your mother.”

  “Well?”

  “It’s not my story to tell.”

  “I cannot accept that.”

  “It’s bloody sad to be you then. I have been sworn to secrecy. Let me speak with the other party, see if they’ll tell you themselves, or if they give their permission for me to speak. No use to look at me like that, I keep my confidences, especially my children’s.”

  Matthew relaxed. “You must mean Harry and his illegitimate daughter, then. Father, everyone knows about that.”

  “Who told you?!”

  Matthew grinned evilly. “You did, just now.”

  “I’ll be damned.” Fitzwilliam shook his head. “Your mother said all men were hopeless at keeping secrets – obviously she was right.”

  “Well, don’t feel badly, it was actually Harry himself who told me years ago. Looks as if mother was right all along. She certainly was beautiful, inside and out. You two were made for each other – opposites attract.”

  “I won’t argue with you there.” Fitzwilliam laughed. “You know, the longer I live the more I am convinced a person’s happiness depends mainly upon the mate they choose for life – their other half if you will.”

  “My other half’s existence means little to me, outside of our begetting Amanda.”

 
“Matthew, don’t lie to yourself. Clarissa was never your other half, was she? The woman from Scotland has your heart and always will.”

  “You’re growing dotty, old man. I despise her and her pathetic excuse for a husband. And, I shall thank you for never speaking of this again. I mean no offense, Father, but that area of my life is none of your concern.”

  “Listen to me, Boyo, you are still my child, and that makes everything regarding you my concern until one of us dies, and more than likely well after that! You and Durand will somehow learn to live with this situation or you’ll both answer to me. Leave his wife alone! Do not cuckold that man, I’ll not stand for it.”

  “Father, you go too far!”

  “I put you on notice. Oh, it’s not for my sake, nor for your sake, nor for his or hers – this is for my grandson’s sake!”

  Chapter 27

  There she was, alone on ‘their’ bench in the park, the one where they’d often met ‘by accident’ years before. There was no power on earth that could have kept him from her, no matter what his father demanded. How dare the old fool lecture him! What did he know about it; it was none of his business, any of it, and it would be a cold day in hell before he’d speak with the bastard again, father or no! Matthew would have his son, and he would have the woman too, heaven be damned. She still wanted him, he still wanted her. And Matthew always got what he wanted.

  Very big talk. So, why couldn’t he make himself move now? Perhaps he just wanted to watch her for a while, drink in her presence like a thirsty man dying for want of water. Obsessed? Yes, he supposed he was, but not by choice.

  As he had stormed away from his father at the ice pond he’d spotted Durand and watched him, loathing in his heart. Look at him, he thought to himself, laughing and smug… well, not for long. He followed him as he left the company of the Darcy’s, as he hobbled down to the pond’s edge, smiled as Ewan called to him.

  “Father, watch me,” the boy shouted with joy.

  Damn him to hell. Matthew feared the intense hatred he felt for Durand, the blind jealousy. What did it matter if his father had the right of it. Yes, he wanted to cuckold that cripple and in his own bed too. He was almost eager to break up that family, take back what was rightfully his.