Deceived (17 page)
Authors: Bertrice Small
“Sheep,” the dowager said. “The family has the largest flocks in the area. Always did. They sell the wool in the open market, and poor Valerian has to pay a higher price to get it for his mills than if St. John would make a private arrangement with him. Of course, the rogue does it deliberately to irritate my grandson.” She chuckled. “I keep telling Valerian that the best way to outfox St. John is to increase the size of his own flocks so he wouldn't need his cousin's wool.”
So St. John's motives could not be disputed. If he showed an interest in Aurora, it had to be because he found her attractive, she decided. And he
was
attractive. Not in the brooding, dark way that Valerian was, but in a prettier, no, that was not a word one should use when describing a man. Softer? He didn't have that fierce, be-damned-to-you look the duke had. St. John laughed easily, as the tiny lines about his eyes and mouth indicated. It would be interesting getting to know him better, provided, of course, that he pursued his interest in her, but the dowager seemed to believe he would.
was
attractive. Not in the brooding, dark way that Valerian was, but in a prettier, no, that was not a word one should use when describing a man. Softer? He didn't have that fierce, be-damned-to-you look the duke had. St. John laughed easily, as the tiny lines about his eyes and mouth indicated. It would be interesting getting to know him better, provided, of course, that he pursued his interest in her, but the dowager seemed to believe he would.
Aurora shifted onto her left side. She was finally beginning to get sleepy. Outside her windows, for she had not let Martha draw the draperies, she could see the sky beginning to lighten with the dawn. She really was tired. Her eyelids were very heavy now, and she yawned deeply several times. She tried to think of Justin St. John, but every time she did, Valerian Hawkesworth's handsome face replaced his cousin's. It was disturbing, but she could no longer concentrate, and finally fell asleep, her breathing measured and relaxed.
She slept until well past the noon hour, finally awakening to the sound of a bird outside her windows, singing its heart out. She lay quietly, enjoying the thrilling song. Obviously someone had found his mate, and was ready to build a nest, she chuckled to herself. Languidly she reached for the bellpull and yanked upon it.
“So, you're awake at last,” Martha said, bustling into the bedroom. “You're the first up. The old dowager is still snoring her head off, Jane tells me; and the young duchess ain't blinked an eye yet. Tell me about the ball, and that Mr. St. John you met. Is he nice?”
“He seems to be,” Aurora said. Then, “I want tea, Martha, and something to eat. I am ravenous!”
“Right away, miss. They say that Mr. St. John is very rich, and he don't have anyone but his mother. She's real anxious he take a wife. A girl would be lucky to get a man like that. Big house, big estate, I'm told.”
“It seems to me you've been told a lot more than I have.” Aurora laughed. “Does he have a mistress?”
“Miss Aurora!
What a shocking thing for you to say. Nice girls aren't supposed to know about such women, or such arrangements,” Martha scolded her mistress. “Your mama would have a fit to hear you talk like that! I think the young duchess is having a bad effect on you.”
What a shocking thing for you to say. Nice girls aren't supposed to know about such women, or such arrangements,” Martha scolded her mistress. “Your mama would have a fit to hear you talk like that! I think the young duchess is having a bad effect on you.”
“Cally? No, Martha, she isn't. I take everything Cally says with a very large grain of salt. I just wondered why a man as eligible as Mr. St. John hadn't taken a wife yet. It's a reasonable question, I believe. If there is some lady who has captured his heart hiding in the shadows, I would be foolish to waste my time, or allow my heart to be broken. While the dowager thinks him suitable, the duke thinks him a cad. Such divergent opinions pique my curiosity.”
“I think I'd listen to the old lady, miss. She does favor you, even more than the young duchess, if you'll forgive my saying so. She wants what's best for you, and will see you ain't hurt.”
Martha hurried from the room, returning about a half hour later with a large tray which she set upon the piecrust table by the windows. Helping Aurora into a pretty peach silk dressing gown, she seated her at the table and began removing the silver domes covering the dishes and plates. There was a dish of eggs poached in sherry and heavy cream, a thick slice of country ham, flaky little croissants, a crock of sweet butter, a dish of new peas, a honeycomb, a silver bowl of freshly picked strawberries with a companion bowl of clotted cream, and a pot of tea. Aurora fell upon the food as if she had been starving, and in short order had cleaned up all of the plates and dishes. Sitting back in her chair, she sipped her saucer of tea, a contented smile upon her beautiful face.
“Delicious,” she pronounced, “and please tell Cook I said so when you return the tray to the kitchens.”
“He'll be pleased to have a compliment, I can tell you, for the young duchess does nothing but complain 'cause he don't fix her fancy meals like in London. Never a word of thanks he gets from her. I don't know where Miss Calandra's manners got to since she's come home to England,” Martha grumbled.
“She is just very impressed by what she considers high society,” Aurora defended her sister. “Eventually she'll know better.”
“Hmmph” was Martha's comment. “Ought to be grateful for what you have done for her, miss, and behave properly like she was taught to do instead of affecting all those la-di-da ways, and Sally as bad.”
“I think I shall return to bed,” Aurora said. “I am still very tired. Ask Peters if there will be dinner tonight, or if we are to eat on trays. I hope it's trays. It would be lovely not to have to get dressed, and just lay about. I want to finish reading the history of the Hawkesworth family. With all I've been doing these last weeks to help the dowager plan the ball, I have had no time to myself.”
“Don't know why you're reading about this family, miss. You ain't going to be part of it,” Martha remarked sharply.
“The duke and Mr. St. John are related through a great-grandfather,” Aurora said innocently. “I would like to understand the familial connection, Martha. Besides, you know how much I love history, and this family's history is really wonderful.”
“I didn't know the duke and your Mr. St. John was related,” Martha said, surprised.
“Well,” Aurora teased her maid, “I cannot believe the belowstairs grapevine was so negligent that it didn't inform you of such a pertinent fact about Mr. St. John, who is certainly not
mine.”
mine.”
“Not yet,” Martha said with a grin. Then she picked up the tray with its empty dishes. “I'll take these down. Are you available for the duchess if Sally asks?”
“Not today, if I can avoid it, Martha. I do not think I can cope with Cally's discontent and whining. And now that she is with child, none of us will have any peace, I suspect, until that poor baby is born. You will remember that Cally has never been an easy patient.”
Martha shook her head. “Gawd help us,” she agreed as she departed the bedroom carrying the silver tray. “It's going to be as if she was the first and only woman who carried a child, and every little inconvenience will be magnified out of proportion.” The door closed behind her.
Aurora chuckled at Martha's astute evaluation of the situation. It was going to be a very interesting few months to come, she decided.
Chapter
8
8
“I
t isn't fair!” Calandra, Duchess of Farminster wailed. “It just isn't fair ! I look like some shoat ready to be slaughtered. I can bear no more. I cannot! I want this child to be born!”
t isn't fair!” Calandra, Duchess of Farminster wailed. “It just isn't fair ! I look like some shoat ready to be slaughtered. I can bear no more. I cannot! I want this child to be born!”
It was a glorious late September day, and Cally was sprawled in a chaise upon the lawns leading to the garden. She was one of those rare creatures that pregnancy did not become. Her alabaster skin had grown sallow. Her raven's-wing-black hair was lackluster. Her face and hands were puffy, and unless she remained reclining for a good part of the day, her feet had a tendency to swell. Worse, with almost three more months until she delivered, her belly was quite distended.
Restlessly, her fingers plucked at a small tray of sugar comfits, discarding one, then another, and finally popping the third choice into her mouth. Her hazel eyes narrowed as she watched her sister playing tennis with Justin St. John. Aurora looked absolutely beautiful in the simple Indian calico print gown. It was really a house dress, but equally suitable to such a rough-and-tumble game as tennis. When had Aurora's waist been so supple and slender as it was now? For a brief moment Cally hated her, and then she felt guilty.
Aurora had been so patient and kind all the summer long, and Cally was not so big a fool that she didn't realize it. Still, she found it irritating to watch her sister having such a good time when she could not. Not that it was the sort of good time Cally was truly envious of, for it was not. And the beaus! There had been any number of them Aurora had flirted with and then discarded. But those young men she refused always remained to become her friends. Cally didn't understand it. One thing remained constant, however. Justin St. John. He was not discarded, and Cally doubted he would have gone if he had been. It was becoming very obvious that he intended to make Aurora his wife.
Cally didn't blame her sister for playing the field, for taking her time, for holding back before agreeing to marriage. If only I had really known what was involved in being married, Cally thought, I should not have been so quick to jump. If I hadn't, it would be Aurora who would be lying here, her belly all blown up, while I flirted with all the gentlemen. But then, of course, I shouldn't be a duchess, Cally considered. Still, she was beginning to wonder if it was really worth it just to be the Duchess of Farminster. In retrospect, all she had needed was a rich, doting husband who would let her live in London and become one of its celebrated hostesses.
A rich old husband.
A man with grown, or half-grown children who would not make unpleasant demands upon her person, but would be satisfied that she was young, and beautiful, and desired by all his friends, who would, of course, envy him his young and beautiful wife. It would be easy to love a man like that, Cally decided. If only she hadn't listened to Aurora. Aurora was really to blame for all of this nastiness.
A rich old husband.
A man with grown, or half-grown children who would not make unpleasant demands upon her person, but would be satisfied that she was young, and beautiful, and desired by all his friends, who would, of course, envy him his young and beautiful wife. It would be easy to love a man like that, Cally decided. If only she hadn't listened to Aurora. Aurora was really to blame for all of this nastiness.
Cally's eyes narrowed again. Aurora would be sorry soon enough. Justin St. John looked to be very much the same sort of animal that her own husband was. He would make
demands
upon Aurora, and Aurora would surely suffer, hopefully, even more than Cally had. And, Cally knew, St. John would not take Aurora to London. He would keep her down here in the country, giving her child after child until her beauty was ruined. And I shall be up in London having a wonderful time, Cally thought. Yes! I shall have my revenge eventually. And St. John didn't even have a title! He was simply a wealthy man with good if nebulous connections to the Hawkesworth family, or so Aurora said.
demands
upon Aurora, and Aurora would surely suffer, hopefully, even more than Cally had. And, Cally knew, St. John would not take Aurora to London. He would keep her down here in the country, giving her child after child until her beauty was ruined. And I shall be up in London having a wonderful time, Cally thought. Yes! I shall have my revenge eventually. And St. John didn't even have a title! He was simply a wealthy man with good if nebulous connections to the Hawkesworth family, or so Aurora said.
“Are you all right?” the dowager asked as Calandra suddenly winced in pain. The old lady was seated next to the young duchess, acting her usual role of chaperon.
“The little beast just moved again,” Cally said. “I hate it when it does that. Fortunately, it is not too often. I feel as if I had swallowed a roast boar whole, ma'am.”
“Being
enceinte
can be uncomfortable at times,” the dowager sympathized, although frankly she was sick and tired of Cally's complaints. All the little wretch did was whine, and she was openly counting the days till she could leave Hawkes Hill and return to London. Valerian had made no bones about the fact that when his wife recovered from her childbirth, she could depart. Farminster House would be put at her disposal, along with a suitable staff. She would have an allowance, which hopefully she would live within, and unless the child was a girl, she would not have to return to Hawkes Hill unless she desired to come. A wet nurse was already engaged to feed the baby.
enceinte
can be uncomfortable at times,” the dowager sympathized, although frankly she was sick and tired of Cally's complaints. All the little wretch did was whine, and she was openly counting the days till she could leave Hawkes Hill and return to London. Valerian had made no bones about the fact that when his wife recovered from her childbirth, she could depart. Farminster House would be put at her disposal, along with a suitable staff. She would have an allowance, which hopefully she would live within, and unless the child was a girl, she would not have to return to Hawkes Hill unless she desired to come. A wet nurse was already engaged to feed the baby.
Aurora ran up and flung herself on the grass. She was flushed and laughing. “You really are a poor loser, St. John,” she mocked.
Justin St. John sat down beside her. “No girl should play tennis like that, Aurora. You play like a boy.”
“If I were, would you expect me to let you win?” she demanded.
“Ma'am, I turn to you for a judgment in this case,” he said to the dowager duchess.
“No! No! St. John, you will not get me to take sides in this matter,” Mary Rose Hawkesworth chuckled. “You were beaten fair and square. Your backhand is deplorable. Why, I vow that I could have beaten you myself had I been of a mind to play.”
He clapped his hand over his chest, a pained expression upon his face. “Ma'am, you have wounded me grievously,” he declared.
The dowager rapped his shoulder sharply with her fan. “You are not that delicate a flower, St. John,” she scolded him. “Will you stay for supper? Valerian should be back from the mills shortly.”
“Thank you, ma'am,” he said. “I should like that.”
“Cally, will you join us too?” Aurora asked.
Cally shook her head. “I am not comfortable sitting straight up any longer,” she complained. “You have no idea, sister, how discomforting a thing it is to carry an unborn child within your own body.”
Aurora patted the sticky-fingered hand that lay upon Cally's skirts. “Would you like it if I rubbed your shoulders and feet for you later tonight before you go to sleep?” she inquired solicitously.
“Ohhh, would you?” Cally smiled. “That would be so nice. You are the only one in this whole house who understands how miserable I am, sister. Thank God I have you, else I should die of loneliness.”
Mary Rose Hawkesworth bit her tongue to prevent a pithy retort. The entire household had been turned upside down to ensure Calandra's comfort and satisfy her every ridiculous whim. And she positively abused Aurora's kindness, although Aurora never complained. If I remain here another minute, the dowager thought, I shall say something quite cutting. She arose from her chair. “It has become a bit cool for me,” she lied. “I think I shall go inside, my dears. Please remain and enjoy yourselves. Perhaps I shall take a nap.”
She walked slowly across the lawns to calm herself, but she was still angry at Calandra's selfishness, and knew she could not nap. Entering the house, she decided to walk in the picture gallery. Viewing the family portraits, seeing the faces of those who had come before her, remembering the family history, was always enjoyable. She must bring Aurora here one day soon, if she could get her away from Calandra. Aurora had so very much enjoyed reading the history of the family. She would certainly enjoy putting faces to the names in the book.
It was a long gallery that had been added to the house several hundred years earlier. It had been created from a windowed hallway that originally connected one wing of the house to another. Tall windows ran along one side of the gallery. They faced southwest. The wall opposite was paneled in warm wood. The wide-board floors were well polished and laid with beautiful Turkey carpets of red and blue. Afternoon sunlight now flooded the room displaying the portraits at their very best. Mary Rose Hawkesworth smiled as she entered the gallery.
There was her late husband, looking dashing, and quite handsome. There was their son, Charles, and his sweet wife, Henrietta. There were even separate portraits of Valerian, and his sister, Sophia, as children. The dowager moved deliberately, looking at each face of each lord and lady represented. Here now was the First Duke of Farminster, his wife, and his children. There were his parents, the last earl and countess, and their children. The daughters, the first duke's sisters, were lovely young women. She smiled back at the portraits, and then, suddenly, the Dowager Duchess of Farminster gasped. Unbelieving, she peered at the name plate upon the portrait. It read:
CATHERINE HAWKESWORTH KIMBERLY
, 3 MAY 1630â28 OCTOBER 1700.
The young woman in the portrait was the girl who had been married to the Kimberly who had been given St. Timothy by King Charles II.
And she was Aurora's image!
CATHERINE HAWKESWORTH KIMBERLY
, 3 MAY 1630â28 OCTOBER 1700.
The young woman in the portrait was the girl who had been married to the Kimberly who had been given St. Timothy by King Charles II.
And she was Aurora's image!
That is why Aurora has seemed so familiar to me, the dowager realized. How many times have I seen this portrait in passing over the years? She looked at the painting next to Catherine Hawkesworth Kimberly. It was of Anne Hawkesworth Meredith, who looked very much like her elder sister. What can it mean? Dear God, what can it mean, the dowager thought. But she already knew what it meant. Valerian was married to the wrong girl, and she could not, at least not now, tell him the truth.
If it was the truth.
But she knew it was. Who could confirm it for her? Aurora's servant, Martha. She would tell the dowager the truth, if pressed, and she would not allow her young mistress to be hurt. Mary Rose Hawkesworth hurried from the portrait gallery, and going to her bedroom, she sent her maid, Jane, to fetch Martha, ascertaining first that Aurora was still outdoors.
If it was the truth.
But she knew it was. Who could confirm it for her? Aurora's servant, Martha. She would tell the dowager the truth, if pressed, and she would not allow her young mistress to be hurt. Mary Rose Hawkesworth hurried from the portrait gallery, and going to her bedroom, she sent her maid, Jane, to fetch Martha, ascertaining first that Aurora was still outdoors.
“Yes, my lady, you sent for me?” Martha stood politely before the dowager, curtsying.
“You may leave us, Jane,” the dowager said quietly. “Please keep watch as I have asked, and let me know the moment Miss Aurora comes into the house.”
Jane nodded, and hurried from the room.
The dowager looked at Martha in what she hoped was a stern but not confrontational manner. “I want the truth,” she said quietly. “Is your mistress the girl who was
really
betrothed to my grandson?”
really
betrothed to my grandson?”
Martha hesitated a moment, and then she sighed. “Yes, my lady,” she said. “It's her who should be the duchess, and not Miss Calandra. I warned her that no good comes of lies, but she didn't listen.”
“Tell me what happened,” the dowager said. “Was it the stepmother's idea? Why on earth was this deception played?”
“Oh, no, my lady! Mistress Oralia wanted no part of it at all. Only at the last minute, when it became apparent that Miss Aurora would have her way, did she give in, but she never wanted it, nor did she agree willingly.” Then Martha went on to explain to the Dowager Duchess of Farminster the truth of the entire matter. She concluded by asking the old lady, “How on earth did your ladyship find out?”
The dowager smiled softly. “Aurora has seemed familiar to me from the moment I met her,” she told Martha. “Then this afternoon I was in the family portrait gallery, when I came across the painting of the first duke's younger sister. She is Aurora's image, as is her sister, who was married to a Meredith. Calandra does not bear even the faintest resemblance to these ancestors. The Hawkesworths are not dark usually. Valerian gets his coloring from his French mother.”
“Forgive me, lady, but are you going to tell?” Martha questioned the dowager nervously.
“How can I, Martha? Calandra was married legally, although if she were not with child, I should tell, and have my grandson annul the marriage based upon the fraud involved. However, Calandra is with child, and the child is innocent of its mother's deceit. No. I shall not tell my grandson; nor shall I tell Aurora, although I am angered by her deceptive actions. And you will say nothing either, Martha, of this conversation. Perhaps, however, your load has been lightened by the fact it will now be shared, eh?”
“Oh, my lady, I knew it was wrong, but what could I do? I am a servant, and even Mistress Oralia and Master George was forced to go along with my mistress. She can be terribly stubborn!”
The dowager patted Martha's plump hand and smiled encouragingly at her. “Go along now, Martha. Somehow it will work itself out.”
Martha curtsied and departed the room.
Well, the dowager thought gloomily, her new knowledge was nothing more than an irritant. Nothing had really been accomplished by confirming her suspicions. What a fool she had been! She had been so distraught by her James's death that she hadn't been thinking clearly. She should have sent for Mistress Kimberly and her charges to come to England. Perhaps then Aurora could have been convinced that marrying Valerian Hawkesworth was not a fate worse than death. But no. Cornered, the girl had created an ingenious scheme, and it had almost worked had it not been for her little stroll through the portrait gallery today. If Mistress Kimberly had come to England, perhaps the dowager would have seen the portrait sooner and discovered that they were in the process of being deceived. Now I shall have to live with this information, she considered irritably. What a coil!
At dinner, however, her mood was barely noticed because of the sparring between Valerian and St. John over Aurora. Dear God, the dowager thought, annoyed. They are like a pair of schoolboys, and there sits Aurora, encouraging them by her very jibes. The girl must be married, and as soon as possible, before she tempts Valerian and there is a scandal! It was obvious to her that Valerian was attracted to Aurora despite his marital state. And why not? The girl was clever and amusing. She held his interest with her intellect and not simply her beauty, unlike poor Calandra, who honestly believed that beauty counted for everything. Yes, Valerian was intrigued every bit as much as his cousin was. As for St. John, it was quite apparent he wanted the girl too, and sensing the duke's interest in Aurora, baited him as had always been his habit when the two fought over something. St. John had a very wicked sense of humor, unlike Valerian, but an equally strong will. Yes, there was going to be a scandal if the dowager could not prevent it.
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