Amberley Chronicles Boxset I: The Impostor Debutante My Last Marchioness the Sister Quest (Amberley Chronicles Boxsets Book 1) (52 page)

Chapter 28

June 1823

Patch’s wedding was a momentous occasion. Her future father-in-law officiated, and the church of St. Stephen’s had never been more beautifully decorated than on this overcast morning; Patch had not been allowed to touch a single one of the white and yellow flowers that gave the austere building such a cheerful, festive touch.

The choir outdid themselves with the selection of celebratory hymns, and the soaring melodies echoed the joy in Patch’s heart.

The wedding breakfast was to be held in the big Hall of Lobbock Manor, scrubbed and decorated by the new housekeeper and her maids, reinforced for this particular occasion by additionally hired workers. The food was prepared for the most part by Spalding Hall’s excellent cook, though the new cook Cherry had hired for Lobbock Manor was on her mettle to demonstrate that her own offerings were just as delicious, and the Vicarage cook had also contributed her share.

Cherry’s only regret was that she was still in blacks on the day of her sister’s wedding. As she stood in the Spalding family pew at Lady Spalding’s side, she made a conscious effort to overcome the anger at Max that still poisoned his memory. Here in the church among so many happy faces, it was easier than before to dredge up pity for the man she had married in this very place, ten years ago. She had not been as glowing as Patch, even then, when she looked back; mostly glad to escape the joyless atmosphere of Spalding Hall, and determined to be a good and loyal wife. She had done her best, and yet it had not saved Max. Had it been because they had not really suited, and she should have waited for a man who swept her off her feet – like Jonathan? But she was not the same woman she had been ten years ago, and Jonathan, by his own account, at that age had been far from ready for marriage.

Her thoughts wanted to stray to the future, to Jonathan, but she knew she had to make her peace with Max, and more importantly with God, if she wanted to build a more solid future with her second husband. He would be her last husband, she vowed, if only because she would make sure he lived to a healthy old age. That bout of fever had been a warning she would not fail to heed. Conscious that the future was not only up to her, she prayed for a long life with Jonathan.

Paul and Patch spoke their vows in firm, clear voices, their determination and lack of doubt evident to the whole congregation. Had she sounded so certain, when she married Max?

Patch’s wedding was the only thing that had kept her here in Bellington for the last week. She was eager to travel to London, and see Jonathan again. He had written that Buckley would shortly be transported, and could no longer harm her. If only she’d had a champion like Jonathan earlier, how much fear and worry she could have been spared! But perhaps it was best that she had not met him until after Max’s death. It would have been a terrible temptation to love one man, while still married to another.

Love … had she told him that she loved him? Not in so many words, and neither had he. Yet she knew herself loved, and felt certain that he was equally sure of her feelings. Still, it might be a good idea to say it, out loud and regularly.

There was another thing she prayed about, but it was so private, and so unexpected, that she hardly dared put her hopes into conscious thoughts, even here in Church. But the Lord would already know, if it were so….

The bridal couple had exchanged the rings, and were proceeding to sign the register. Prune and Paul’s cousin Christian Selbington were the witnesses. Next to Cherry, Lady Spalding touched her fine cambric handkerchief to her eyes, and old Miss Spalding uttered a sentimental sigh. Sir Charles squinted at the couple with his usual ill-natured expression, but at least he had not interfered with the wedding preparations.

Matt grinned at Cherry as the bride and groom, followed by the witnesses, began to leave the church. “When w-will your own w-wedding be? And where?” He asked, as everyone was standing and preparing to follow.

“We haven’t decided,” Cherry said. If her suspicions, or hopes, were correct, they might not be able to wait until the mourning year was over. She let go of her anger with a sigh. Max was her past; Jonathan was her future. The future was infinitely more important.

***

Cherry had asked Miss Spalding to accompany her to London. To her surprise, Lady Spalding had expressed a desire to come with them, ignoring her husband’s grumbling.

Thus she had both older ladies as well as their ancient Abigail with her in the elegant, well-sprung coach Jonathan had sent up from town. It was a new purchase, he’d written, and he would be obliged to her to try it out. The team of four greys looked as elegant as the dark blue lacquer and gold trim on the coach’s body. Johnathan’s own coachman and two outriders ensured their safety on the long journey.

Cherry’s return to London was thus a far cry from her desperate flight eight weeks earlier, when she had barely had enough money for the common stage. In the inns where they slept and ate the three ladies were treated with deference, and given commodious rooms that Jonathan’s retainers had reserved for them when the coach came up. They had also paid for these rooms in advance, it turned out.

“A most considerate young man, your Jonathan,” Lady Spalding said to Cherry as they were having their last breakfast on the road.

“We should not accept his bounty like this, allowing him to pay for everything,” Cherry said. “After all, we are not married yet.”

“All the more reason to let him get into the habit of looking after your needs. If you don’t train your husband early, it might no longer be possible later.”

“I don’t think of him in such terms,” Cherry protested, even as she wondered if Sir Charles had ever been young and generous enough to be thus trained. Judging by the end result, it seemed unlikely.

Adding a dollop of cream to her strawberries she was suddenly overcome with acute nausea, and left the breakfast room almost at a run. The scent of the berries, so pleasing and delicate normally, had seemed overpowering this morning. As she rinsed her mouth with barley water, she could no longer doubt it: she was expecting Jonathan’s child.

How would he react to her news? She herself was overjoyed, despite the awkward timing. She had waited in vain all those years, hoping every now and then, but always disappointed. Yet her body had been ready, and now at long last her son or daughter was forming in her womb, waiting to be born.

Would he or she look like Jonathan?

***

The coach did not take them to Jonathan’s house, which she knew to be in Chelsea, but to an elegant mansion in Bruton Place.

Jonathan was there, waiting for them, which was all that mattered. He decorously kissed the ladies’ hands, but Cherry, impatient with his display of restraint, embraced and kissed him, ignoring the interested gazes of Lady Spalding and Miss Spalding, and the scandalized look of their elderly maid.

“We must talk privately,” she murmured. “I have news.”

He nodded comprehension, but turned to the other ladies again.

“I took the liberty of installing you here, for the time being. I bought this place only a few months ago, and it is your decision, Cherry, if we move here after we marry, or not. Your bedrooms and linens have all been renewed, but the rest of the house is still as I bought it, so I have to beg your indulgence for the strangeness of some of the furniture. If you want to live here, Cherry, you have carte blanche to change anything and everything. In fact, I very much hope you’d replace the Egyptian elements. The staff is new, from an agency, and you can also make whatever changes you deem desirable.”

“Thank you,” Cherry said. “You think of everything. It will be fun to refurbish the house, if we decide to live here. I want it to be a joint decision.”

Jonathan bowed and smiled at her. He then had the housekeeper conduct the older ladies and their maid to their apartments, and drew Cherry into a drawing room for another, more passionate embrace.

She responded with enthusiasm. When she came up for air she blinked, however. “Jonathan, what is
that
?”

“A sarcophagus, love, though why anyone would have it standing up like that in a drawing room is beyond my comprehension. I have not ventured to open it, and can only hope that it does not contain a body.”

“No, indeed,” Cherry said. “Even if it is empty, funereal objects do
not
belong in a drawing room. It is no better than that bloody hare in Lobbock Manor.”

“Oh, I don’t know, at least the colours are more cheerful. But let’s not waste our time on trivialities. Are you well? What is the news you spoke of?”

“It turns out I am not infertile after all,” Cherry said, her eyes anxiously fixed on his, “at least not with you, Jonathan.”

His pupils widened. He stared at her. “Are you sure?”

“I have not consulted a physician, but yes, I am sure.”

Jonathan let out a whoop, and hugged and kissed her again. “You have no idea how happy you make me, Cherry.”

“I am not supposed to marry before the end of the year.”

“This is much more important,” Jonathan immediately said. “Damn the conventions, the risk of your child being born fatherless, if anything happened to me, has to take precedence. When I think of that fever … life is so uncertain. We must be married right away, privately. Do you agree?”

“Yes, and at least Lady Spalding and Aunt Horatia will be present.”

“You don’t mind missing a big wedding celebration? Most ladies look very much forward to that, I’m told.”

“I can forego it if you can. You were planning on a big wedding yourself, weren’t you?”

“Not with any expectation of taking pleasure in the event. We must also find a physician. I wonder which is the best in London? I will make discreet enquiries right away.”

“I leave it all to you,” Cherry said. “This pregnancy makes me a little tired and lazy. I am also much more sensitive to odours, and my breasts are more sensitive as well. You will have to touch them with great care, when next we have the chance.”

“I was thinking to show you my current house tomorrow, when you are rested from the journey, so you can see which you like better. But now I’ll be busy purchasing a special license, and organising our wedding.”

“One more day or two makes little difference.” Cherry strove to hide her disappointment at the delay.

“It makes an enormous difference to me. We’ll simply do it all,” he decided, “Tomorrow we choose the house, and the day after we’ll be wed.”

“Good. Let’s seal the plan with another kiss.”

“Cherry, you don’t need any pretexts for kissing – I am always at your service for that.” Jonathan suited action to words, and she melted in his strong arms. Her future would hold daily bliss, even if some high sticklers disapproved of her quick remarriage. A good thing they did not belong to the
ton.

Chapter 29

“Welcome, Mr. Durwent,” Marianne, Lady Amberley, greeted the dark-haired young man who had climbed out of the elegant travelling coach, “I have heard much of you from James, and I am glad that you decided to accept our invitation after all.”

Durwent bowed politely, but turned to help the lady coming after him to climb down the steps before replying. His fiancée, presumably, but was she not supposed to wear black?

“Mrs. Randolph? Welcome to Amberley.”

Durwent bowed again. “I beg your pardon, Lady Amberley, but we are already married. May I present Mrs. Durwent?”

“Already married! My best wishes to you both, for a happy union,” Marianne said warmly. It was shocking, to be sure, but as a hostess she would not betray the slightest criticism. “And here we thought we were going to witness a courtship. You are certainly not letting the grass grow under your feet, Mr. Durwent.”

“Thank you for your welcome. We shall only stay for a week, and go on our wedding trip from here,” the new Mrs. Durwent explained. “I look forward to meet Jonathan’s particular friends James and Henry, and their wives.”

“Mrs. Randolph? Welcome! I am glad to see you have left off those depressing black clothes.” Marianne had been unaware that her brother Anthony, who had been passing by on his way from the stables, was acquainted with the newly-wed lady.

“Lord Pell,” Mrs. Durwent curtseyed, “I am already Mrs. Durwent.”

“Congratulations!” Anthony kissed her hand, and shook Durwent’s with enthusiasm. “Am I forgiven for my role in bringing this happy conclusion about?”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Durwent said, smiling broadly, “on the contrary, I am very much obliged to you, for being the first to suggest the match.”

“As you should be,” Anthony said with an admiring glance at Mrs. Durwent. Marianne wondered at it. Her newest guest was a pretty brunette, but years older than her brother. Was it the expressive eyes?

The Durwents were soon settled, leaving one of the prepared guest rooms empty, since they expressed a strong preference for sharing. So soon after their wedding, it was only natural. Marianne went to tell her husband and James about this interesting development. She found them discussing politics in the library with their brother-in-law Henry Beecham.

“Durwent has arrived,” she told the trio, “and is already married to his lady. Was she not supposed to be in deep mourning for the rest of the year?”

“Love is stronger than such considerations,” James said, “and when I last saw Jonathan, he had all the symptoms of a man deeply in love. I beg you not to mention the mourning again. Since the Durwents are not known to your other guests, except for Henry and me, I see no need for anyone to know about the abbreviated mourning.”

“As you like, James.” Marianne doubted whether love was the only reason for the early wedding, but would keep her speculations to herself. “But you are wrong that only Henry and you know them. Anthony is acquainted with both Durwent and his wife. I was hoping he would look at one of the debutantes in our house party, but I have yet to see him regard any of them the way he looked at Mrs. Durwent, with deep admiration.”

“No matter - she’s married and out of his reach,” James consoled her. “You have several weeks until the end of July, so your matchmaking may yet bear fruit.”

“A good thing that Durwent is already married,” George opined, “it means Rook cannot alienate his girl’s affections. I fail to understand how you can expect your brother to fix his interest with anyone, Marianne, while Rook is on the premises.”

“Mrs. Durwent is not a giddy girl, but close to her husband’s age,” Marianne said. “I doubt very much that she would have fallen under Rook’s spell, even were she not safely married.” She added, as a loyal sister, “Anthony is just as good-looking as Rook. I have high hopes of Lady Ariadne for him.”

“Hmm.” George was sceptical, but disinclined to argue the matter. Time would show who had the right of it.

***

By the time their departure was imminent, a week later, Cherry and Jonathan had become general favourites, excepting only the two of the young debutantes and their mothers, who resented the attention Cherry received from the gentlemen. The dowager Lady Amberley had not yet arrived.

“Jonathan is a lucky fellow,” James said to George as they were watching Rook shuffle the cards in the library after dinner. “All the unmarried men seem to regret that he found Charity first.”

“She
is
very attractive,” Rook said, “though Anthony or I would be too young for her. But I agree that Jonathan is very lucky indeed.”

“Marianne wonders what makes her so very appealing,” George said. “I am not sure myself. It’s like magic, this power she has over the male of the species. We are very lucky she is a devoted wife. Such women can wreak havoc if they barely try. I wonder if it’s a quality other women of her family share? Her birth is still a mystery, or is there any news, James?”

Rook had stopped shuffling and offered the pack to George for cutting, then started dealing the cards.

“Jonathan has told me his investigator retrieved the clothes Cherry wore as a baby, and a ring that was taken from the body of the dead mother,” James reported. “They are of superior quality; the supposition must be that Cherry is of gentle birth. The clothes were embroidered with the letters MD.”

Rook stopped mid-deal. “MD? Are you sure?”

“That’s what he told me, but you can talk to Jonathan himself, he’s not leaving until breakfast tomorrow. Why, do you have any idea what these letters may represent?”

“I’d rather not say any more at present, but I have heard of a missing woman with such initials. It was long ago, before my own birth.” He finished the deal.

“How intriguing.” James stared at Rook, while George took up his cards and started to order them by suits. “If there’s the slightest chance that you have the other half of this mystery, I urge you to talk to Jonathan and Cherry right away.”

“Did I hear my name?” Jonathan appeared at their side. “Please don’t interrupt your game.”

“This may be more important,” George said, putting his cards face down on the table. Rook nodded, and drew Jonathan aside.

“Durwent, is it true that your wife’s baby clothes were embroidered with the letters MD?”

“So my investigator has reported to us. He is going to bring them to us within days.”

“I know of one woman who went missing about thirty years ago, with these initials,” Rook said, “she was my mother’s older sister Mariah, Lady Desborough. The servants told the family that she had fled to the colonies with a lover and her little daughter.”

“Cherry was abandoned in that inn on December 1
st
, 1794,” Jonathan said. “Her mother had a bad cough, which was taken to have caused her death during the night. Did your aunt Mariah suffer from such a cough?”

“I don’t know,” Rook said, “remember, all this happened years before my own birth. I only heard about it from my own mother, who is no longer alive either. But Lord Desborough, my aunt’s husband, ought to know.”

“Did he not search for his wife and child?”

“If he thought she had abandoned him, I doubt it. He is a very proud man.”

“Even in that case, I would search for the child, if not the mother … I suppose aristocratic pride takes a different form from the more ordinary kind. If Lord Desborough did not care enough to search for his child, I will not bother him with any questions, though I will inform Cherry of your theory.”

“I will write to him myself,” Rook said. “He married again eventually, after having his lost wife declared dead after seven years. But if Mrs. Durwent, whom I admire greatly, should prove to my first cousin, she certainly deserves acknowledgement by her family and a proper dowry. The child was christened Madeline, by the way – Lady Madeline Desborough.”

“I thank you for your suggestion. As for writing to Lord Desborough, it is up to you.” Jonathan bowed and left Rook to continue the card game with the Ellsworthy men.

He found Cherry and they took their leave of the others, perfectly at ease among the aristocratic crowd.

“Lord Molyneux thinks you may be his cousin, Lady Madeline Desborough,” Jonathan told Cherry when at last they were private in their bedroom. “Would it not be ironic if after all you turned out to be a lady from the highest circles?”

“Nothing would surprise me by now,” Cherry said. “My fate already has taken so many strange turns. I am only glad that my husband is right here with me, and not impressed by the navy, like poor Mrs. Jones’s Tom.”

“I should have seen through that right away,” Jonathan said, dropping a kiss on Cherry’s neck, “but your red hair blinded me so much that I was unable to reason.”

“If ever you should tire of the prim Mrs. Durwent, Mrs. Jones might come and seduce you – I still have the wig somewhere in London.”

“You don’t need any wigs or false names to seduce me at any time,” Jonathan said, tearing his neck cloth off. “As for the other, Hendrickson will soon find out if there is any merit to Lord Molyneux’s theory. Lord Desborough is still alive, but if he is your father, he does not sound like the kind of man we want in our lives. Remarried, very proud, and he believed his servants when they claimed the wife had run away with a lover. He should have gone after the child in any case, whether that was you or some other girl. These aristocrats don’t value their girl children enough.”

“Not only they,” Cherry reminded him gently, “think of Prune.”

He turned a stricken face to her.

“Don’t look so - we can learn from others’ mistakes, and will do better ourselves,” Cherry said. “This little one I carry may be a girl. Promise me that if she or I ever should be lost, you will go after us – after her – till we are found.”

“I swear – and you know full well that I will not let either of you be lost. You are much too important to my happiness.”

She threw him a wicked glance from under her lashes. “Oh? Just how important am I?”

“I’ll show you,” he vowed, and proceeded to do just that, throughout their last night at Amberley.

The End