Call Down the Moon (5 page)

Hugo was grateful for Mallard’s tact, even though there wasn’t a hint of sunshine to be seen in the gray, wet afternoon. Any light at all felt like a knife piercing his skull.

Hugo dismissed him with a curt nod. When Mallard had closed the door behind him, he picked up the butter knife and broke the seal, peering at the elegant script written on Southwell paper.

My dear Montagu,

We have been friends these many years, and I am deeply distressed that you find yourself in such difficult circumstances owing to the play of this night. Although I hold your markers for the sum of one hundred forty thousand pounds as well as the promise of the deed to Lyden
Hall, worth another sixty thousand, I
wish to offer you every opportunity to find extra funds so that you need not lose Lyden.

Therefore I propose that I give you ninety days to come up with the total sum of two hundred thousand pounds in hope that you manage to find a way to recoup your losses. I will await your reply.

Your Obedient Servant,

Waldock

Hugo stared at the paper, sick memory flooding back in full. Vingt-et-un. Oh God. He remembered it all now. The cards, the endless play of cards, his losing at every turn, but foolishly confident that his luck would change. And then the final folly, the last bet, his judgment gone to hell by then in the bottom of a brandy bottle as he’d staked everything on Lyden. And lost.

He groaned, closing his eyes and praying with everything he was worth that it was all a bad dream.

But when he opened them again the same gray light assaulted his eyes and the same damning letter crackled between his fingers.

He could think of only one solution to rescue him from this dilemma. And it was even more unpalatable than the taste in his mouth just now.

“Lord Hugo, what a pleasure to see you again so shortly after our last meeting over your purchase of Lyden Hall.” Mr. James Gostrain of the esteemed law firm of Messrs. Gostrain, Jenkins, and Waterville rose from behind his desk to shake Hugo’s hand. Hugo didn’t feel like shaking much of anything other than Foxlane’s throat for having led him into disaster, but he obliged, forcing a smile to his dry lips.

“Mr. Gostrain. Your servant. Thank you for seeing me so readily.”

“Not at all. What may I do for you, my lord?” Mr. Gostrain asked pleasantly, gesturing at the chair on the other side of the desk.

Hugo took a seat. “I am thinking about marrying,” he said. “I wish to know the formalities behind drawing up a marriage contract, and how soon such a contract can be pushed through. There is a sizable dowry involved, you understand. I do not want legalities to be a cause for unnecessary delay.”

Mr. Gostrain, a man in his early sixties with thinning gray hair and a sharp nose, had negotiated many a tricky deal over the years. He allowed himself a long look at Hugo. “I gather you have a reason to marry in haste?” he said, tapping the tips of his fingers together.

“I do, although not for any reason other than if I lose my nerve, I most likely won’t marry at all. Therefore I desire to understand the underpinnings of such a binding contract.”

Mr. Gostrain nodded. “It is wise to be thorough before the fact, if you will allow me to say, Lord Hugo.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Hugo said, wishing that Gostrain would get on with the matter. Hugo’s entire life hung in the balance.

Mr. Gostrain tapped his fingertips together again, an annoying habit that Hugo wished would cease. “May I ask if you have approached the lady in question with a proposal of marriage?” Mr. Gostrain said.

“No … I thought it best to wait until I understood all of the ramifications.” The only ramification Hugo really cared about was getting money back into his pockets as soon as possible, but he wasn’t about to explain that to Gostrain.

“Ah, well. A marriage settlement is not as complicated as you might imagine, my lord. Generally speaking, the matter is conducted between the two families and afterward, their solicitors. Your obligation is to inform the parents of the young lady of exactly what your circumstances are, and their obligation is to inform you of the degree of her fortune, which will become yours upon marriage.”

“All of it?” Hugo said, determined there should be no mistake.

“All of it, save for any separate property her parents might wish to set up in trust for her that would remain under a trustee’s control. This, however, is not a common practice.”

“I see,” Hugo said, relieved to hear it. He didn’t want anyone in control of her money but him. He’d really have to insist on that if the subject came up.

Gostrain cleared his throat. “As you are a younger son, there is no line of succession involved. Your wife will of course share your courtesy title, but her parents will naturally be concerned about your ability to support their daughter in suitable style. You must keep in mind your future wife’s right of dower upon your death, should you predecease her. That would be something approximating one third of your income, providing you do not establish a jointure for her in the premarital contract.”

“Oh,” Hugo said, thoroughly bored. He tuned Gostrain out as the man droned on, not interested in the distant future. He realized he would have to lie through his teeth to convince Amelia Langford’s parents that Lyden Hall still belonged to him and that he also still had substantial funds.

“… Now. As to children. The marriage contract will specify what their portions will be.”

Children?
Over his dead body. Yet he would be expected to share her bed and carry out his husbandly duties. Oh, God. The very idea of marriage to Amelia made him feel ill. The more Gostrain carried on about the binding legalities involved, the more panicked he became about being condemned for life to someone he already detested and found physically revolting.

Hugo was sure he must have turned a sickly shade of green, for Gostrain suddenly stopped mid-speech. But he said only, “If you will excuse me for a moment, Lord Hugo, I see Mr. Jenkins beckoning me. This should only take a moment.”

He rose and left his desk, walking into the next room to confer with his partner. Hugo pressed his hands to his eyes, wishing himself dead. There had to be another way. There just had to be…

The murmur of voices rose and fell through the open doorway as the two partners conferred, but Hugo paid no attention until he heard a certain name mentioned.

“A Margaret Bloom of Ramsholt, Suffolk, you say?” Mr. Gostrain repeated. “I suppose we can try to track her down, despite the passage of so many years. What do we have to go on?”

Hugo rose and quietly moved closer to listen.

“It says here that David Russell knew Margaret Bloom to be with child when he left the country for India twenty-three years ago,” Mr. Jenkins replied. “His will states most specifically that he wishes the fortune he made to be left to Margaret Bloom and any lineal descendant born in the year 1799, and we have been retained to investigate the matter. Four hundred thousand pounds is no small sum. Extraordinary, really—all accumulated in India through his business in sea trade.”

Hugo nearly fell over in shock. Four hundred thousand pounds? Just floating around while they looked for a descendant of a certain Margaret Bloom?

“What if we should not discover the heir? What then?” Mr. Gostrain asked.

“Then the money is to be left to charity,” his partner replied. “Again, Mr. Russell was very specific about how it is to be distributed in that event. However, he apparently had great confidence that this Margaret Bloom did give birth in the summer of 1799, which would make the child now twenty-three years of age.”

Hugo pressed his cheek against the wall in disbelief.

“Mr. Russell attempted many years ago through investigators to discover the whereabouts of mother and child, but with no success. In any case, if the child is still alive—indeed if he or she ever existed at all, he or she would be Mr. Russell’s only immediate relative and legally entitled to the entire sum, as he wished. The funds now sit in a London bank waiting resolution.”

Hugo’s mind raced a million miles a minute, landing directly at the Woodbridge Sanitarium and the image of an insane girl with the face of an angel. It couldn’t be her
—could
it? Woodbridge was only a stone’s throw from Ramsholt, and Meggie Bloom was just the right age to fit the story. The name … the name alone was nearly identical to the mother’s.

He knew Meggie Bloom’s mother had died in childbirth, and if he was right—and how could he be wrong—Meggie herself was now worth four hundred thousand pounds.
Four hundred thousand pounds.
He couldn’t bloody well believe it! It was the most incredible coincidence he’d ever come across.

Four hundred thousand was more than enough to get him out of all his difficulties with lots to spare. It would be his for the taking. All he had to do was marry the girl before Gostrain, Jenkins, and Waterville found her. Best of all, he had the jump on them, since he already knew where she was. It would take them at least a fortnight before they could track her down, if they could manage it at all when a previous team of investigators had been unsuccessful.

Hugo suppressed a wild desire to shriek with hysterical delight. It was perfect—perfect! A fortune like that would mean nothing to someone like Meggie Bloom—what would a crazy girl do with money? She couldn’t function as it was.

He sobered for a moment, realizing that this meant he’d be taking a lunatic for a wife. But then, really, didn’t the situation solve all of his problems?

He could get over his little problem with lunacy. How hard could it be? The nun herself had said that Meggie was harmless enough.

The only real responsibility he’d have to her would be to install her at Lyden Hall and discreetly hire a keeper to look after her. He could always pretend that he had met and married her on impulse, if anyone asked.

Who would blame him for his rash action after they’d seen her? She was a stunning creature. Then once he was married he couldn’t be expected to marry anyone else, which took care of that problem. He’d look like a martyr.

He supposed children were inevitable, since he didn’t plan to keep his hands off her, and he could only pray that they wouldn’t be born with her affliction.

But if they were, he’d look even more like a martyr. How much more respectable could one get?

Hugo almost started believing in the power of prayer, for this was surely deliverance.

How he was actually going to persuade the befuddled Miss Meggie Bloom to marry him was another question, but Hugo had no doubt that he could find a way. After all, she didn’t have a lot of options—or sense, common or otherwise, for that matter.

He quickly resumed his seat, attempting to look lost in thought. As soon as Gostrain returned, Hugo looked up and sighed heavily.

“I must thank you for your time, sir, and your advice. For after due consideration of everything you have told me, I’ve decided that I cannot marry this particular woman after all. The truth is that I do not love her, and I do not think I can marry without love. The idea is far too unsavory.”

Gostrain scratched his head with one finger. “Begging your pardon, Lord Hugo, but if that is the case, then why did you consider marriage to her at all?”

“I suppose because I thought it was what was expected of a man in my position,” Hugo said, knowing it was essential that he set up his story now if he was to be believed later. “Her breeding, her connections are impeccable and as I said, her dowry extremely large. Nevertheless, the prospect of living out my life with someone I do not care for repels me. I think I must put aside the expectations of others and follow my heart.”

He paused for a long moment as if hesitant to continue, and then he lowered his voice. “The real truth of the matter is that I am in love with someone else, although I have hesitated to propose marriage to her.”

“Ah. Is this other young lady perhaps not as well connected as the first?” Mr. Gostrain asked, his tone infinitely tactful.

“My dear Mr. Gostrain, as far as I know she is not connected at all. She is an orphan, utterly penniless, and without protection in this world.”

Mr. Gostrain’s mouth dropped open.

“Yet she is the sweetest, most gentle of creatures, kind and good,” Hugo continued blithely. “My mother recently encouraged me to marry for love—nay, practically insisted on it. And so I shall. So I shall! My good man, I cannot thank you enough for preventing me from making a terrible mistake.”

“But I—“

“Good day, sir. I hope to speak with her shortly and can only pray she will accept me. Naturally I shall notify you when the happy event occurs. It will be a quiet wedding, of course. I think that best under the circumstances.”

Hugo made his bow, collected his hat and cane, and left, fully enjoying the expression of blank astonishment on Mr. Gostrain’s usually composed face.

O
h God. Oh God, oh God, oh God.
Hugo didn’t actually know what he was praying for, unless it was divine protection. He couldn’t believe that he was back at the asylum, a place he’d sworn never to go again.

But he was desperate, and desperation had a way of urging one forward no matter how fiercely the body and mind resisted.

He clutched his hat in his hands as he waited for the summons to Sister Agnes’s office, silently rehearsing what he intended to say, all of it untrue.

Still, he was an expert at appearing to be sincere. He’d been doing it for as long as he could remember and usually successfully. In any case, he doubted a nun would know the difference between truth and fiction when it came to affairs of the heart.

As before, he was led to Sister Agnes’s office by way of the long corridor. He drew in a deep, steadying breath, then knocked lightly and pushed the door open.

“Lord Hugo,” the nun said, looking up at him over her spectacles as he entered. “This is a surprise. What brings you back to us so soon? I was under the impression that you had no interest in our activities here at the sanitarium.” She arranged the papers in front of her into a tidy pile, regarding him with obvious speculation.

Hugo graced her with his most charming smile. “I can understand your confusion, Sister. I was confused myself, most confused indeed, to discover that my thoughts kept returning to this place. Indeed, not so much to this place as to one person in particular.”

Sister Agnes’s steady gaze did not waver. “What person would that be, Lord Hugo? As I recall, you showed little interest in visiting Lady Kincaid.”

“It is not Lady Kincaid who has been occupying my thoughts. This might sound strange, but it is Meggie Bloom who has weighed heavily on my mind—“

Sister Agnes sat up very straight, her eyes boring sharply into his in a manner that Hugo found disconcerting. “Meggie Bloom? Why would Meggie Bloom weigh on your mind? Forgive me, my lord, but you do not even know the girl.”

“No, Sister, I do not. And yet she left a profound impression on me.”

“A profound impression. What type of profound impression, might I ask?”

Hugo arranged his features into an expression of a man earnest in his intent, leaning slightly forward as he lowered his voice. “The story you told me of her tragic past touched me deeply. I have not been able to rid myself of thoughts of her ever since. Even in my sleep, she is there.” He sighed, but with only the slightest exhalation of breath, intended to convey wistful longing. “I would give my very soul to change her life.”

“Just how would you go about that, Lord Hugo?” the nun said, sounding as worldly and skeptical as his own mother might, had he made the same pronouncement to her. “Perhaps you intend to offer her your protection?”

“Sister, I believe you misunderstand me.” Hugo forced muted moral outrage into his voice. “If you think that I have come here to make a dishonorable proposition…”

“I have no idea what sort of a proposition you have in mind,” the nun said succinctly. “I would find it rather odd for you to be coming to me with a suggestion of anything inappropriate. Therefore, I assume that you mean only the best for Meggie.”

“Yes, of course,” he lied. “My intention is solely honorable.”

“That is good, Lord Hugo. Then what is it you wish to do for Meggie that would change her life? She has everything she needs here. An offer of money would not affect her circumstances, as she has nothing to spend it on. Her needs are very simple.”

“This has nothing to do with money,” Hugo said, annoyed that the nun was not behaving with the gratitude he’d expected. He was, after all, offering to take one of her charges off her hands. He bowed his head to conceal his frustration. “Or at least not in the way you might imagine.”

“Ah. Then perhaps you wish to employ Meggie in some capacity in your household? I heard that you bought Lyden Hall not long ago. I assume you will be needing staff.”

“Yes, that is true, but it isn’t that either. You see, the truth of the matter is that I—I wish to marry Miss Bloom.”

He waited for the burst of indignation, the stream of protests, for which he had all sorts of arguments prepared.

“You wish to marry Meggie Bloom,” the nun said without any show of emotion. “What makes you think Meggie might wish to marry you?”

Hugo was taken aback. This conversation was definitely not going as he had anticipated. “Why, I can offer her my position, for one,” he said indignantly, as if that wasn’t obvious. “She would bear my name, as well as becoming mistress of Lyden Hall. I realize she is not like other women, but this does not worry me,” he added when the nun still didn’t reply. “I want only for Meggie to have the happiness she has been deprived of for so long. I am capable of looking after her very well, Sister.” He clasped his hands together. “Indeed, I would make it my life’s work to see to her contentment, her peace of mind.”

Sister Agnes gazed thoughtfully at a point somewhere over his right shoulder. Then she placed her palms flat on her desk, meeting his gaze squarely. “You say that you understand Meggie is not like other women. What do you mean by that?”

Hugo stared at the nun, dumbfounded. How could the woman be so obtuse? “Is it not obvious, Sister? She is unique,” he said, using the nun’s coded language for the mentally incompetent. “Special. I feel a need to shelter her from the harshness of life. I have been fortunate in my birth, my privileged circumstances, and I would like to share those with her. In all honesty, Sister, no one has ever struck such a spark in me as Meggie did when I first saw her.”

He frowned. Oddly enough, that one statement really was true, although he knew perfectly well what sort of spark he was referring to, and it had nothing to do with Meggie’s being “special.”

“I see. Yet you know next to nothing about her.”

“But I do,” Hugo protested. “Naturally I made inquiries before making up my mind on the matter. For example, I know that Meggie’s mother was a Margaret Bloom and she hailed from Ramsholt.” Hugo waited with baited breath for confirmation.

The nun nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes, it is true.”

He practically leapt out of his chair with delight, although he was already as certain of his facts as he could be. “It was a tragic story,” he said, taking a shot in the dark, but then it was fairly safe to venture that particular assumption.

“Indeed. Very tragic. And yet you still wish to marry Meggie, knowing what you do about her?”

Hugo nodded. “Her background may be troubled, but it is nothing that cannot be overcome.”

“You are most broad-minded to say so, but I wonder if even a man in your position can afford to take as wife a woman whose background is … troubled, as you say. Have you bothered to think about the repercussions?”

Hugo was ready for that question. “Meggie should not be held responsible for what she cannot help,” he said, pretending a supreme confidence he didn’t really feel. Taking on an addle-brained wife was not a choice he would have made in any other circumstances. “I feel confident that I can protect her and guide her through whatever difficulties she might encounter.”

“Including the censure of society?” the nun asked. ‘Tour elevated position is one thing, Lord Hugo, but I am not sure even you can shield Meggie from the whispers and innuendoes that are bound to occur when those of your circle discover the truth about her. It has been hard enough for her to endure the contempt of the outside world. At least in this place she is protected from scorn, for as I told you once before, here we do not judge.”

Hugo scratched his cheek, trying to think of an argument to counter the nun’s. “I thought long and hard about what you said, Sister,” he replied. “Why can I not look after Meggie at least as well as you have done? She will live a quiet life at Lyden Hall, much as she has done here, but she will have a far larger degree of freedom and the protection of my name.”

“Perhaps. You nevertheless will place her in a position where she will be expected to take on responsibilities that she is not prepared for. You have already said that she will be mistress of Lyden Hall. How can you expect her to fulfill that role when she has no idea of all that it entails?”

“Meggie will have no responsibilities in that regard,” Hugo countered. “I will hire a competent housekeeper, and there are already two elderly women in residence who have lived at Lyden for most of their lives. They can assist her. If Meggie should need any extra help in … coping, then I shall arrange for that as well. Would you really rather see her condemned to living out the rest of her life here?” he added, playing his trump card. “I repeat, I care only for her happiness, which I feel sure I can provide.”

“I too care only for Meggie’s happiness. I am very fond of the child. It is only that your proposal is so unexpected. I never imagined that anyone might actually—well. Suffice it to say that I never expected Meggie to be leaving us.” She treated him to another of her piercing looks. “You spoke of wanting her happiness. Why is her happiness
really
so important to you that you are willing to make such an enormous sacrifice?”

“I—I hesitated to speak to you of this, Sister, fearing you would think me foolish,” he said, “but…” He allowed himself to trail off for just a moment, then cleared his throat. “I realize you are a woman of religion and so not given to these feelings, but do you believe in the phenomenon of love at first sight?”

He lowered his gaze to his hands as if embarrassed by being forced to admit the emotion. “I myself never thought it possible, but here I am as proof that the condition must exist. When I saw Meggie, I was hit by a bolt of lightning, a
coup de foudre,
as the French say.”

That too was true enough. He’d never forget the paralyzing sensation—and had stayed well out of thunderstorms ever since.

“Yes, Lord Hugo. I do know what the French say. Yet you ask me to believe that you actually fell in love with Meggie while you were looking at her through a window?”

“I know it is preposterous. And yet the instant I saw her I felt as if I had been wandering in the world alone, and suddenly my salvation was at hand.” He thought that a rather inspired touch and decided to push the point a little further. “It seems absurd even to my own mind, but I do not know how else to put it. I felt as if I had seen an angel, a being not entirely of this world, and yet the world suddenly made more sense than it ever had before. I have not been the same since.”

Sister Agnes stayed silent for a few long moments, which made Hugo nervous. When she spoke again, her voice was suddenly softer. “I admit, you have greatly surprised me, Lord Hugo. I did not expect to find this degree of understanding in you, but I learned long ago that the Lord truly does work in mysterious ways, and it is not for us to question His methods.”

A sudden jolt of excitement ran through Hugo’s body. “Then you believe me?” he asked earnestly. “You do not think me mad?” He colored as he heard what he’d inadvertently said. “I mean—you do not think me foolish to feel as I do?”

Sister Agnes smiled. “How can I? If you have not only perceived Meggie’s true nature but also accepted her for who she is, then who am I to stand in your way? There are few people who have ever done either—I am grateful for your perspicacity.”

“I don’t know about my perspicacity, Sister, but I would be grateful for your blessing, as there doesn’t seem to be anyone else to bestow upon me Meggie’s hand in marriage.”

The nun folded her hands together. “If it is my blessing you are asking for, then you have it. For Meggie’s sake, you have it.”

“Thank you, Sister,” he said with utmost sincerity.

She stood and walked over to the window, looking out, with her back to him. “Do not thank me yet,” she replied quietly. “It is not my place to make such a decision for Meggie. I am not her keeper, and these walls were not built to confine, but rather to protect. Meggie is free to do as she wishes; you will have to speak to her. She must use her own judgment.”

“Yes, of course,” Hugo said, before the nun could change her mind. “If you will just tell me where I can find Meggie, I shall put my proposal to her personally.”

“I think it might be best if I spoke to Meggie first in order to prepare her,” Sister Agnes said firmly.

“If you don’t mind, Sister, I would rather approach her myself,” he replied. For all he knew she would fill Meggie’s scrambled head with misguided information about what marriage actually involved, for Meggie couldn’t be expected to understand it herself. “I know it is not entirely proper, but I believe there are things only I can say that will convince her of the sincerity of my cause, things she might understand better if they come directly from me. I give you my word that I will not frighten her.”

Sister Agnes turned and regarded him severely. “My concern is not that you will frighten her. However, it is essential that you understand Meggie is a complete innocent. Furthermore, she is not accustomed to the company of people from the outside world. If I agree to let you see her, then you must promise me that you will be utterly circumspect in your behavior.”

“Naturally,” Hugo replied, trying to conceal his impatience. “I will do and say nothing untoward. I only wish to make my offer. If she refuses me, I will not press her further.” He didn’t mean it for a moment. He’d do whatever it took to snare Meggie Bloom and her four hundred thousand pounds.

The nun nodded, but Hugo saw her lingering reluctance. “I swear I will be careful with her,” he said. “I care for her far too much to do or say anything that might alarm her.”

“Very well. I take your word on the matter only because I know and respect your mother and trust that she raised you as a gentleman.” “Which brings me to ask you—have you consulted your mother on this matter?”

He hadn’t even thought about his mother’s reaction and shuddered to think what it might be when she heard the news. “My mother? No, I saw no reason to speak until I had something to tell her.” He shrugged as if it was of no importance. “As you must know, my mother is exceptionally progressive in her thinking. She has always encouraged me to be the same. I believe she will accept my choice of wife and will come to love Meggie as I do.”