Amberley Chronicles Boxset I: The Impostor Debutante My Last Marchioness the Sister Quest (Amberley Chronicles Boxsets Book 1) (19 page)

Chapter 3

At lunch, adults and children were all talking together in an informal manner that would have deeply shocked Alphonse’s mother. The sound of an approaching coach-and-four and the barking of several dogs excited the children so much, however, that Charlotte had the nannies take them away to the nursery.

“Are we expecting anybody else?” she asked James, who had left the table to look out of the large window from whence he could survey the courtyard outside the Hall’s main entrance.

“It is one of the Amberley coaches,” he reported. “Since George and Marianne are still abroad, and Mother has sworn not to set foot in our house, I must suppose – yes, there she is alighting now. It is Minerva with her maid and that tiny dog of hers. Come to stay, judging by the mountain of baggage tied to the back and roof.”

“How delightful,” Alphonse said, wondering why his friend’s sister should be travelling only with a maid.

Charlotte briskly stood up. “Well, let’s go and greet her! I hope nothing bad has happened.”

Before they got any further than the front hall, Minerva herself came rushing towards her brother and sister–in-law, throwing herself at Charlotte in an impetuous hug, before greeting James with a more decorous kiss on the cheek.

“We have a guest,” James said, and Minerva turned to stare at Alphonse, before greeting him with a kiss too, like another brother.

“To what do we owe this pleasure?” James asked. “Or would you like to tell us later?”

“I’d better leave you to your family discussions,” Alphonse said, making to retire from the scene, though he felt some curiosity.

“Oh no, it’s not a secret – don’t go, Alphonse. Mother has washed her hands of me, and I come to throw myself on your mercy – your hospitality – until George and Marianne return. If you don’t want me, I can only go to Jennifer in Bristol, and I’d rather not.”

“What happened? But wait a moment.” Charlotte pulled Minerva into the drawing room, followed by James and Alphonse, and firmly closed the door on the servants who were beginning to carry boxes and bags into the house.

“Of course we are glad to have you, Minerva, as long as you like,” James assured his sister. “Tell us all. Only two weeks ago mother was very pleased with you, as I remember. Though, we were in the middle of lunch – are you hungry or thirsty?”

“Just something to drink for now, I can eat later.” Minerva began to unbutton her long travelling gloves. Charlotte poured lemon water from a pitcher into a glass and handed it to her sister-in-law, who took it and drank deeply.

“Ah. Travelling is a thirsty business. To make a long story short, Lord Molyneux proposed at last, but when it came to the point I could not bring myself to accept him.”

“Why not?” Charlotte asked in surprise. “He is good-looking, and currently the best match on the marriage mart. If you dislike that moustache he sports, you can probably get him to shave it off once you are his wife. I do not know him well myself, but I understand he is generally admired. What is wrong with him?”

“His father’s stud won the Cheltenham,” James added. “They own many of the top racehorses in the country, and that mausoleum of a castle, as well as several other large estates. You were looking forward to being mistress there, the last time we talked.”

“Yes, well, I was all set to accept him, but the word
yes
simply wouldn’t come over my lips. It was like a temporary paralysis. Very odd.” Minerva took a more moderate sip of the water in her glass. “I did not reject him either, mind; I said I needed time to think it over.”

“Poor Rook,” Alphonse said without thinking.

“Rook is Lord Molyneux?” Charlotte asked.

James grinned. “With a name like his, in Eton he was in dire danger of being called Molly, which would be a fate worse than death. He picked ‘Rook’ as a nickname himself and thrashed any boy who refused to use it, until it stuck.”

“That sounds unlike him,” Minerva said, diverted from her own tale.

“As your suitor, he would hardly have shown you his more violent side. But that family did not reach their pre-eminence by being meek and mild. In fact they have a reputation for being ruthless and devious.”

“I had no idea. And I’m not sure I want ruthlessly devious children.” Minerva set the glass down. “Rook was not best pleased when I said I needed time. Of course he expected me to fall all over myself with eagerness and gratitude. That may have been another reason why I was reluctant to agree right away. I hate being taken for granted.”

“You are not in love, then?” Charlotte asked.

Minerva shrugged. “It is hard to fall in love with someone you have known since childhood. Mother keeps telling me that love may come later, and is not truly necessary for a successful marriage.”

“She is very mistaken,” James said with emphasis. “Both George and I would tell you differently. If you don’t love Rook, you were perfectly right not to accept him. Both of you deserve better.”

“I may yet take him,” Minerva said carelessly. “But you know how mother is. She flew into a fury and we had the most tremendous argument. She gave me an ultimatum to accept Rook there and then, and when I defied her, decided she wanted nothing more to do with the whole matter. Even as we speak, she is travelling to join some of her friends in a Bavarian spa. She plans to stay there until autumn.”

“I hope its waters will prove beneficial for her temper,” Charlotte said piously. Alphonse had to suppress a smile. Everyone knew of the implacable enmity between the dowager Lady Amberley and her younger son’s wife.

James was frowning. “She just left you there, all by yourself with the servants?”

“I did inform her that I was coming to stay with you, and she said it was all of a piece, and her whole family was conspiring against her. Don’t look so serious – it is only a five-hour drive, and I do have my maid along.”

“And your dog, I noticed,” James said. “I wonder how he’ll get on with our much bigger ones. They could tear him to shreds in seconds.”

“They won’t.” Minerva knew that her small King Charles spaniel was not easily cowed, any more than his mistress. “I’m not the least worried on his behalf. Size is not all, you know.”

“I know.” James smiled at his sister, reflecting that at nineteen, she had become a very attractive, radiant young woman. Little wonder men buzzed around her like bees around a flower-bed. “Welcome to our home, Minerva. Everything will work out, I’m sure.”

“Thank you. I could eat something now,” Minerva said. “Do you suppose any of that lunch I interrupted is left? And then I must say hello to the twins and Verena.”

As his hosts led their new guest towards the lunch table, Alphonse quietly left in the direction of the sun-lit gardens.

Was it fate or coincidence that brought Lady Minerva to the same destination so soon after his own arrival? And did her presence imply that he had an unlooked-for second chance with her? Alphonse had not been insensible of her admiration when she was barely sixteen, but had not taken it for anything more than a passing schoolgirl infatuation. His own heart had not been strongly touched, though he had always been fond of young Minerva. At the time he had decided to wait for her to grow up, without forming any definite intentions. That was just as well, for when at last she came out, a year late due to the long mourning for George III, he had already been tied to Louise-Henriette.

That did not prevent him from looking at Minerva with admiration now that she was out at last, and at the height of her beauty. She was very different from his blonde, sylph-like wife: tall and slim, with fine features and eyes, thick chestnut hair, and that trick of suddenly looking otherworldly and mystical, which was so greatly admired at present. He rather suspected that it was a mere pose, in Minerva and other girls who had mastered it. A well-dowered Earl’s daughter, she was in every way eligible to become his marchioness. Yet James’s insistence that she should hold out for love rang in his ears like a warning bell. He did not love Minerva, any more than he had loved Louise-Henriette.

Well, they would have several weeks together, here in the sunny Sussex countryside. That should be ample time to find out if the potential for more existed.

To his surprise, he realised he had not thought of Monique, and her desperate struggle for survival, for at least an hour – not since his talk with James at the brook. He did not know whether to feel glad or guilty.

Remembering his friend’s suggestion to bring the child to England, he went to his rooms to write to his mother, suggesting that his daughter be brought to Sussex, if her physician deemed it advisable. As an afterthought, he penned a separate note to Mme Fourrier, the child’s formidable wet nurse, with a bank draft that should be more than sufficient to cover every imaginable luxury and precaution on the short sea voyage, should his mother omit to provide it. Her long penurious exile in England had made the old Marquise reluctant to part with money.

Knowing his mother’s intransigence he had no great expectations that the child would be brought to him, but Alphonse felt distinctly more cheerful once he had handed the two sealed envelopes to the butler.

Chapter 4

That night, as he was brushing her long blonde hair, Charlotte asked James, “Do you think there is anything between Alphonse and Minerva? Or if not now, is anything likely to develop?”

James considered. “I doubt it. She was infatuated with him over two years ago, and I suspect he knew it. But Minerva was very young, and then Alphonse allowed his parents to coerce him into that arranged marriage. That would have smothered any love Minerva might still have harboured for him, I imagine. No, I fear he has missed his chance there, and it may be for the best.”

“Sometimes a love is rekindled when circumstances change.”

“Would you rather have a rekindled love, or a fresh new one?”

“The new one, of course,” Charlotte replied without hesitation. “Everything has its time and season. You are probably right. If the two of them were meeting now for the first time, it might be a different story.”

“I rather think we will soon have Rook haunting the neighbourhood.” James put the brush down. “He is tenacious, and once he has made up his mind that he wants Minerva, he is not likely to let her disappear for the whole summer. He will find out her destination easily enough.”

“Should we invite him to join us – a house party?”

“Hardly. Having him in the house would be awkward if Minerva rejects him, and would put undue pressure on her. She came to us for sanctuary. Rook will find his own accommodations easily enough. Most of the gentry in the area will be only too glad to have a genuine marquis, and heir to a duke, as their houseguest.”

“That would mean two marquesses about the place, quite a novelty,” Charlotte said with a smile. “We shall have to arrange a dinner party, or even a ball. I like the idea of a ball, to reciprocate all recent invitations from our neighbours in one fell swoop.”

“I suppose we are due for a major event. All the other families will be eager to offer their hospitality to such noble guests, and we must not be behindhand. But, Charlotte, are you sure you are up to such an effort now, while expecting?”

“Of course. You know that even carrying the twins hardly slowed me down, and it’s early days yet.”

“Then we might as well set the date now. In four weeks the whole cast of this comedy should be assembled, I daresay.”

“Let’s hope it
is
a comedy, with a good ending.”

“Ah.” James turned serious. “That reminds me; I invited Alphonse to send for his little girl. Little Monique seems to be very frail, and he is afraid she might not survive the trip. From what he said it is unlikely that she’ll actually arrive, but in case I’m mistaken, you ought to know about it.”

“Oh, no.” Charlotte looked at him gravely. “No wonder he is so different from before. I had wondered where his cheerful insouciance had disappeared to, that dashing air so characteristic of Alphonse when I first met him. He could seem frivolous, and a bit stuffy in his notions, but I soon saw that he had a good heart. I do hope his little daughter rallies.”

“So do I, and we’ll have to do our best to cheer him up, even if not. Remember how he helped us just before our marriage? It was he who brought us the special license. There is little I would not do for him in return.”

“Yes, indeed,” Charlotte heartily concurred. “Poor Alphonse.”

+++

Minerva had not expected to see Alphonse as a fellow guest in her brother’s Hall, and had not yet decided how she felt about his visit. Three or even two years ago she would have immediately forgotten all about Rook, and society’s expectations, if Alphonse had given her the slightest encouragement. He never had. When she had learned of his sudden marriage to a French aristocrat, at his dying father’s request, she had shed some bitter tears. After she had dried them off she had resolutely cast Alphonse out of her heart. She was completely over him … wasn’t she? Besides, the quality she had liked best about him, his air of cheerful daredevilry, was muted now, if not entirely gone. In their brief earlier meeting, he had acted like a different man.

Still, if Rook followed her, as she half expected, it might do him good to see he had competition. Her noble suitor was so self-satisfied that at times she wanted to slap the smugness out of his handsome face. The most infuriating thing was that he had so much to be superior about: apart from the old title and wealth, he was intelligent and well-read, handsome, and excelled at shooting, fencing and riding. It had given Minerva a secret satisfaction to see him nonplussed for once, when she had told Rook she needed time to consider his most obliging offer.
That
had been unexpected, and had upset him at least momentarily. Maybe she was a fool not to have snapped him up, as her mother said; but her decision to wait still felt right.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her musings. “Come in,” she called, unsurprised to see that her visitor was Lady Verena, her particular favourite among the younger generation. She was one of the girl’s godmothers, together with her blind cousin Belinda, who lived in Yorkshire. It was a recent tradition of the Ellsworthy family that every child should have two godmothers or godfathers, “so none of them can possibly be forgotten,” as her oldest brother George used to state. On such occasions her mother would always swiftly change the subject.

“Did you bring me a present, Aunt Minerva?” the little girl asked with her winning smile. She was not nearly as pretty as her cousin Violet, but such was her sunny nature and self-assured manner that nobody cared.

“I departed in a great hurry,” Minerva explained apologetically. “If there should be a fair in the neighbourhood while we are both here, I will let you pick a present then, is that all right? Or is there anything you particularly need right now?”

“The best presents are not things one
needs
,” Verena pronounced. “I’ll ask Nanny about fairs right away. Even so, I am happy you came here, Aunt. This is a good place, you will like it here.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Minerva said. “But you will be going home as soon as your parents return, and their home is also a good place. Remember that I grew up there too.”

“There are not enough children to play with at home,” Verena complained. “Here I have Roger and Violet, though Violet can be a beast sometimes. And a little baby might be coming soon to join us.”

“How would you know that?” Minerva was astonished.

“A girl from across the Channel. Father was talking to Nanny about it.”

“Ah.” Verena was not talking about Charlotte’s interesting condition, then. “Why would such a tiny girl come across the Channel, and how? It sounds like a hum to me.”

“Maybe.” Verena had already lost interest in the subject. “I want to have a little dog like your Abelard. He barked at the hounds, and they backed off! Where can I get one? Do they sell such puppies at fairs?”

“No, not at fairs, at least that would be highly unusual. They are bought from a breeder, and are called King Charles spaniels, because King Charles bred and liked them. In your place I would ask your parents for the puppy right after they return, while they feel relieved and happy to see you, and should be in a mood to grant almost any wish.”

“I’ll remember.” Sometimes Verena seemed much older than her four years.

Minerva cautioned, “Not all of the breed are as valiant as my Abelard. Even dogs that look quite similar can have very different temperaments. You must look at the whole litter, and pick carefully, or send someone who knows about dogs if you cannot do it yourself.”

“Could you come and help me pick out my puppy?”

“If I’m there, gladly,” Minerva promised. “But it may be some months yet, and I might well marry before that. Besides, by then you might have changed your mind and want something else instead, like a pony.”

“I already have a pony at home,” Verena loftily informed her. “I am not going to change my mind. I’m not a baby any more, Aunt Minerva.”

“I can see that.”

+++

The Right Honourable Marcus Dominic Breton, Lord Molyneux, eldest son of the Duke of Ottway, was in a less than cheerful mood as he gave orders for his departure, to retrieve and secure his unaccountably coy lady. It irked him that he had had to bribe the Amberley coachman to learn that she had gone to her brother’s estate in Sussex.

He had not lightly fixed on Lady Minerva as his marchioness and future duchess; she was spirited and sound, not unlike the best mares of his family’s famous stud. She would be a graceful hostess and suitable mother for his children. Before making up his mind, he had taken care to assure himself of her impeccable bloodlines and, by no means the least of his requirements, her brains. Rook did not want to wed some pretty widgeon, only to see his descendants unable to hold the family fortune together.

But if Minerva was the best of the current crop of debutantes, he knew himself to be miles ahead of her other suitors in sheer desirability. Why had she not immediately taken him up on his proposal? Maybe there was an odd kick in her gallop after all, some quirk he had overlooked when he had checked out her disposition and qualifications. In that case, he should forget all about the girl, cut his losses, and look elsewhere.

Yet after investing several weeks in his courtship, he was loath to begin anew. Perhaps there was some logical explanation, and they could yet patch things up. Besides, since she had merely asked for time, and not definitely rejected him, the ball was presently in Minerva’s court; he was tied until she decided one way or the other. Such an undefined situation was difficult to support for a man of Rook’s temperament. He had to find her, and obtain a definitive answer as quickly as possible. Rook did not enjoy being toyed with.

Through one of his clubs he had a slight acquaintance with one Sir Bruce Minnover, a fellow hunting enthusiast whose abode was located some six miles from James Ellsworthy’s Sussex estate. If he stopped at the nearest inn and pretended a sudden wish to linger in the neighbourhood, an invitation to Minnover Hall would no doubt be forthcoming.

Of course if Sir Bruce was absent from home, he might be forced to stay in the inn for two or three days. Any more than that would be too high a price, even for getting Minerva to make up her mind. Rook abhorred common hostelries and the indifferent quality of food and hygiene they typically provided. But he would do what he had to. The Bretons were not known for letting the grass grow under their feet, or their prey escape from their grasp.