An Unnatural Daughter: A Dark Regency Mystery (7 page)

‘No, but as it happens, Tristan lent me his copy of the complete works to pass the time. It hadn’t really tempted me until now, but I’d like to see why you chose it. I assume he’s wonderfully handsome.’

I giggled.

‘Look for strangers, Orlando. It’s just one line. That should help you find him. Now I’ve named you, perhaps you should know me. I’m Alice.’

‘I know.’

‘Oh.’ I felt deflated. ‘Well, of course, I suppose Edwina and Tristan told you.’

‘Yes. But I’m not sure I believe it. You don’t look like an Alice.’

‘And you don’t look like an Orlando,’ I answered quickly. I didn’t want him to dwell on my own subterfuge.

‘Ah, so he isn’t wonderfully handsome then?’ Orlando rose, and held out his hand to me. ‘I’m afraid I should probably return to my confines.’

‘Oh.’ I took his hand and he helped me rise. It was warm and rough, and I could feel the dust and calluses on his skin.

He kept hold of my hand and led me towards the tapestry.

‘Shall we keep it a secret? That we met. I don’t know why but – it would be awkward, I think, explaining to Edwina and Tristan, and I find-’

He trailed off, but I knew what he meant. I may have had more secrets than I was comfortable with already, but that the two of us had met, and the moments we had shared before I even knew he was real, well, I found that I wanted to keep them between just the two of us.

‘It might be awkward- for Edwina- for me to find out about you. To find out she’d kept it from me, maybe. But if it meant you could live out here, openly-’

‘Oh no,’ Orlando said quickly, shaking his head. ‘It doesn’t change a thing. I wasn’t just hiding from you, you know.’

‘Our secret, then.’

We smiled at one another, and I realised we were still holding hands. I stiffened slightly, and he noticed too. I let go with reluctance, enjoying the feeling of his rough skin sliding over my smooth fingers.

‘Let me show you the catch. Should you need it – or if you want to talk to me, and you can do it without anyone knowing – then you can find me.’

He pulled back the heavy tapestry and pointed out a slightly raised knot in the wood panelling.

‘When the door’s closed it’s completely flat, you just have to press it down and it clicks open.’

He demonstrated if for me, and I caught a glimpse of a narrow corridor behind, thick with dust but for a few surfaces and handprints where he must have touched it.

‘I hope your father recovers soon,’ he said, looking at me with concern.

‘It seems strange you know everything about me, when I’ve only just met you.’ I shifted nervously, wondering what else he’d seen or heard when I hadn’t known he was there.

‘Not everything, Alice. I don’t want to call you Alice, but it only seems fair since you have saddled me with Orlando. Who knows, perhaps we shall find out more about one another yet.’

He leaned forward and caught my wrist, sliding his fingers down my palm again and kissing my hand. My breath caught in my throat, and I thought he noticed and so laughed it off, saying,

‘You’re an incorrigible rogue. I hope I never see you again.’

My Orlando smiled, squeezed my hand, and disappeared into the small door, clicking it shut behind him. I watched the tapestry as it swayed back to rights, and stayed there, staring at it still, long after it had stopped moving. Then I looked at my hand. It felt different, I felt different, although everything looked the same. The possible implications of his invitation still hung in the air. 

CHAPTER 10

Til Death Us Do Part

Our wedding took place in the village church, just quarter of a mile from my father’s house. Father had never gone to church on a Sunday, so I’d had nobody to take me when I was younger, and had never picked up the habit since then. I’d always felt as though he didn’t like me to socialise too much with people in the village, preferring instead to keep us within our own society. He had taught me to say my prayers, which he said was enough, and had encouraged me to read the bible. I hadn’t missed church except that it would have given me more of an opportunity to meet people my own age.

Now my first entry was likely to be my last, in this church at least. I didn’t know about my husband. Perhaps he was a devout man. Father had told me nothing, and ignored all of my hints and more probing questions. I didn’t even know how they knew each other, or what line of business this man was in. As I picked my way up the crooked path that led between the graves and to the thick, black wooden door, I fought down panic at what was to come. I held Father’s arm, but felt little comfort from his presence. Yet he had agreed to this. He knew my husband. He would never send me anywhere he thought I wouldn’t be happy, I was sure of that. What father would? It was the natural inclination of a parent. He would know what was best of me. I had very little to complain of in my life thus far, and that had all been at his direction.

No music played, and I walked through the pews to the altar to the music of my own footsteps, the click of heels on the stone floor. The church was empty but for me, my father, the vicar, and the stranger I was to wed.

My fiancé stood with his back to me, and I stared at him with fearful interest through the cloud of my veil. As I moved closer, I saw that he was a slim man with dark hair that he wore slicked back from his brow. There was a tinge of grey in some places, and as I grew closer still I saw it was beginning to thin slightly on top.

He wanted to marry me, I reminded myself. It followed therefore, surely, that he wanted us to be happy and would be as nervous as I. I watched him as I approached, and took his fidgeting with the cuffs of his well-fitting black coat as nerves.

Father dropped my arm as we drew level, and shuffled back to sit in one of the pews. I felt his loss. Mr Raynor and I turned towards the vicar, who seemed to be put out at performing the marriage on such short notice. Beneath the shade of my veil I cast furtive glances towards my fiancé, trying to see more of his face. He was handsome, I thought, for a man so much older than me, although his eyes were small and his forehead high and slightly shiny. His nose wasn’t much to speak of, but his lips were firm and he had a strong chin. I felt relieved, not knowing how I could have married a man with a weak chin. It was foolish, really, but I started to feel better. His bearing was good and he gave the impression of strength and elegance. I was hopeful, for the first time in days.

I repeated the vicar as directed, and my voice quavered slightly as I did so. We turned, my soon-to-be husband and I, and rings were exchanged. He sounded excited and my heart lifted still higher.

Our vows completed, my husband reached forward, his eyes alight, and grasped the heavy ends of my veil. I could swear his hands shook a little as he slowly drew it upwards to reveal my face, and I smiled in readiness.

His mouth seemed to drop, and he stared at me for a few long moments, his brows furrowed. I saw him look past me, to where my father sat, then back to me, and back and forth again – for all the world as though he was reassuring himself that I was my father’s child. Then he dropped my veil, nodded curtly to the vicar and propelled me swiftly down the aisle towards the door. I looked back over my shoulder, but I couldn’t see my father. I think he must have left.

CHAPTER 11

An Unnatural Daughter

Father woke that afternoon. I was there, alone, as I had wished, yet I struggled to broach the conversation that must take place between us. He was exhausted still, although his body had begun to recover, and I was simply glad enough that he was alive. I felt guilty that in the brief time I had spent with Orlando, I had managed to forget about Father, forget how he lay so close, yet so injured, and that it was my fault. I was an unnatural daughter, it was true, but I found I could not regret my time with Orlando. Even as Father blinked at me, creaking slowly into life once more, I clung to the memory, glad that Orlando was near, a hidden strength within the walls.

Father managed to drink a little water, and eat some of the broth Jane had left for him. All the while he looked at me with wide, nervous eyes, and I explained, in as soothing tones as I was able, where we were and who our hosts were.

‘They are very kind, and have been so good to me since – well. Edwina seems not a bit put out that we’ve both landed on her doorstep. They’re very good people, Father.’

‘Edwina,’ Father repeated.

‘Edwina and Tristan Lovett, Father.’

‘Ah. I wasn’t sure where-’

‘I think they said we were about twenty miles from Lincoln. There’s a little village nearby too, but I can’t remember what that’s called.’

I moved the bowl of broth from where it sat, half finished in his lap as he toyed idly with the spoon, splashing tiny drops onto the crisp, white sheets. He was so messy. It was only by placing him in an alien environment that I realised just how much I’d had to clean up after him.

‘Now, Father,’ I began nervously, and he swung his head up to stare at me with those unnaturally wide eyes again. ‘I don’t really – tell me, is Gabriel alive?’

Father coughed slightly, and seemed to edge back into his pillow.

‘Yes,’ he said.

My head swam for a moment, dizzy with relief. He was alive! I had not killed a man. Perhaps there was no place for me in hell after all. But still-

‘Is he injured? That is, is he quite well?’

Father cracked his knuckles, then winced as that pulled on the scabbed scrapes on his hands.

‘Gabriel Raynor is… as well as can be expected. I understand he has the makings of a scar along his left temple, but is, on the whole, unaffected by the whole thing.’ He paused and looked up at me, his eyes wide and brows furrowed. ‘Jesus, Fleur, how could you do that to him?’

I stared down into my hands, confronted for the first time with a reaction to what I had done.

‘I was – it was awful, Father. The most horrible three days of my life. They were so cruel to me, and they made me wear- oh, Father, I didn’t mean to do it, I swear it, it was just one moment he was on me and the next, the candlestick was in my hand and he was unconscious. I thought I’d killed him, I was so scared.’

I buried my head in my hands as the scenes I had worked so hard to quash over the past few days all flooded back to me. And there was my father, sitting only a few feet away, judging me harshly. I could feel the disapproval radiating towards me. I put out my hand, hoping for some reassuring touch, but he simply folded his arms and watched me. I could hardly bear how disappointed he looked.

‘It is lucky – a miracle, even, but your husband wishes for you to return to his side. He has in fact charged me with bringing about that very thing. He sent me for you, to take you back home. Your home, that is, with him.’

‘I was looking for you. I ran to find you. I want to go back home to how it was before.’

‘You have no home with me now. You are a wife and your place is with your husband. You must count yourself lucky that he is willing to forgive your transgressions, your sins, and allow you back into his home. You don’t know how lucky you are, Fleur.’

‘I can’t go back,’ I was crying again now, and clutched at Father’s leg, the only part of him I could reach, thick with sheets. He tried to move away, but his body was still too weak. ‘You don’t know what they did to me, Father. You just don’t know.’

‘As your husband in the eyes of the law,’ he said, still stubbornly avoiding my gaze, ‘it is for Gabriel to say whether you stay with him or otherwise. I have no power over your future, nor do I wish for it. I gave that up when I gave you away in church. In the eyes of God, Fleur, you belong to him. I am merely the vessel in which Gabriel chooses to place his message to you.’

‘Yet he beat you. He, or some of his lackeys beat you and left you like this. Deny it, Father. Deny it and perhaps I shall consider my rightful place.’

Anger battled through the tears now, coupled with disbelief that this could be my father’s wish for me. He merely spread his hands in a gesture of sorrow, and shrugged.

‘Consider then, Fleur, that if you do not go back to him, then he and his “lackeys”, as you call them, will likely pay a visit to us again. All the kindness of Edwina and Tristan Lovett will be of no defence against them, of that you can be sure. He has offered you an olive branch, consider that?’

‘An olive branch? By sending me my father, beaten and broken? Father, he threatened to kill me. He hated me from the moment he laid eyes on me, I am sure of it. Then before any attempt at - he told me quite explicitly that I had precisely one year to conceive a child, or else he would kill me. That is what you would have me go back to? What if I can’t do it? Or what if I can?’

Still he stubbornly avoided my eye, staring at his fingernails, still black with mud and dried blood. My heart fell, and I knew at once how difficult he had found the beating.

‘Please, Father.’ I moved to sit on the bed beside him, and reached across to take his hand. ‘I had thought we could go away. We could run away together, and then we would both be free of him. Have you not considered that? We could go to America – think of the insects you could find to study there – first hand. And I could keep house for you and it would be just the same as it ever was. Would you not rather do that?’

He stared at my hand over his, and I could feel his shallow breath, a whisper over my skin.

‘I am so very tired, Fleur. Could you leave me?’

I squeezed his hand again, but he was motionless beneath my touch.

‘Of course.’ I must be dutiful. What was wrong with me that it was so difficult to be dutiful? ‘The only thing – please. I told Edwina and Tristan my name was Alice. I thought that if they were as little involved as possible…’

Father sat there just breathing for a while, and for a moment I thought he’d fallen asleep, until he said very quietly,

‘Alice. For what it’s worth, then, I will go along with it. Would that you would go along with my wishes quite so easily.’

I left him and went to my room, where I spent the next twenty minutes crying into my pillow. When the sobs subsided and my thoughts cleared, I wondered over all I had heard.    

If I went back to Gabriel, would he leave Father alone? It would be me who bore the force of his wrath then, but perhaps I deserved it. Father seemed to expect it, and I was staggered to learn that he had not thought as I did. Yet Father had always enjoyed a quieter life. I had just not thought that would come at the price of his daughter.

Was it me, then, who was unnatural? Was the treatment I had received from Gabriel part and parcel of married life? That was the problem, I simply didn’t know. Maybe people wrote stories about love and happiness in marriage because it was so unusual and noteworthy. Perhaps, like goblins and fairies, it didn’t exist at all. I wished I could ask Edwina about it all – surely she would know. But she wasn’t there. I clung instead to the locket around my neck, stroking the gently embossed silver with my thumb and praying. Not to God, but to my mother. How I wished that she had been there, and that I hadn’t killed her by being born.

I could pretend to be myself - or rather, pretend to be Alice, by the time Edwina and Jane returned from the village. A neighbour in a horse and trap dropped them off, and my host looked the picture of country elegance, sitting on a scrubbed wooden seat in a sprigged muslin, wearing a chip bonnet with long ribbons that tied in a jaunty bow beneath her ear. As she jumped down with an energy that belied her years, I could not help but smile. I pinched my cheeks and made my way downstairs to meet her.

‘Oh, Alice, you do look pale, dear. We’ve been keeping you inside too much this past day or two. You must go out this afternoon and sit in the garden, and I’ll sit with your father.’

‘He woke up,’ I said, wondering what would be precisely the right amount of happiness for that sentiment, and precisely the right amount of smile to go with it.

‘Oh, how wonderful! And how is he?’ Edwina leaned forward and caught my arm, her eyes full of concern. ‘Has he all his faculties? Could he tell you anything?’

‘I-,’ I had not thought of this. How foolish, how unforgivably foolish that I had forgotten to think of some excuse. ‘I did not have chance, really. I did not like to pester him. He remembered me, and I remembered him, and he was so tired still, I just gave him food and water and let him rest again.’

‘Of course.’ Edwina put a motherly arm around me and shepherded me back into the house. ‘Perhaps we can speak to him later, together, if it would help. No sense in rushing anything this important.’

‘You’re too kind.’ Far too kind.