Family Scandals (26 page)

Turning, he looked down at Corinna and noticed her hands clasped tightly together. She seemed to do that when she was worried or uncertain. He wondered if her nervousness now stemmed from the fact that they were finally alone.

A sigh escaped her as she looked up at him.

“I will miss them,” she said slowly, “but I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet.”

Marcus nearly shouted with relief. “And here I thought you were worried about being alone with me,” he quipped.

She colored. “I might have, but Eliza told me…” Her voice trailed off and the pink in her cheeks deepened to red.

“Told you what?” he asked curiously.

She descended the steps, turning in the direction of the flower garden. A light breeze stirred her curls and fluttered the yellow ribbon wound through them. Marcus followed, unable to keep his eyes from admiring the slim figure encased in green and yellow muslin, and the sway of her hips as she walked.

She turned and peeked up at him from under her lashes. “About being married,” she said simply, then turned away again, but not before Marcus noticed that the blush had spread to the roots of her hair.

He nearly laughed out loud, but refrained so as not to cause her further embarrassment. And to think, he told himself, he wished Eliza had waited for them to appear in London. He didn’t know what Eliza said, but he was certain she hadn’t minced words. Eliza rarely spoke around a subject that could be addressed directly.

Corinna entered the garden, thankful for the light breeze that sprang up. She needed it to cool her face. What had possessed her to tell Marcus about Eliza? Had she wanted to set his mind at ease? Perhaps she wanted to let him know she knew what was expected. Whatever impulse had prompted her to tell him, she was glad he didn’t know what she was thinking.

She acknowledged to herself that she was thankful Eliza had, after learning of the circumstances surrounding their marriage, realized she had no one to stand in her mother’s place and was, therefore, woefully ignorant of the physical side of marriage. Although Eliza’s description sounded awkward and uncomfortable, Marcus’s sister assured her she would not find it so.

All that aside, Eliza’s explanation had aroused her curiosity and she had been impatient for their guests to leave. Instinctively she knew Marcus was waiting for them to be alone before consummating their marriage. And, thanks to Eliza, she was actually looking forward to it.

Marcus followed her into the garden. His presence, even behind her, provided her with a confidence she’d long lacked. She’d told herself before that she was a coward, but with Marcus she did not feel timid or afraid. As a child, she’d been forced to be brash and dauntless. Her siblings had allowed her no peace and any sign of fear or timidity was often met with teasing and provocation.

The tangy sea breeze reminded her just how far she’d come from Houghton Hall. Her family would never find her here. Neither would Vincent.

“How about a visit to Mrs. Cotter?” Marcus’s voice interrupted her wayward thoughts as they entered the house from the side door. “The last time I checked on the mine, I stopped in to meet her, but since she wasn’t up to visitors that time, I promised to come back soon.”

Corinna turned back to him. “That would be wonderful,” she replied brightly. “I’ll ask cook to prepare a basket to take to her.” It would also, she acknowledged, keep her mind off of the evening possibilities.

“She was duped by her own family,” Mrs. Cotter told them.

Seated in her small, but neat, parlor, Mrs. Cotter was telling Marcus what she knew.

“And that snake, Lord Rearden.” She pronounced the name
ridden
, but it was clear Marcus understood who she was talking about.

“How so?” he asked the little old woman who peered up at him out of faded blue eyes.

“He was chasin’ after my Emili,” she answered him in a soft voice. “But she didn’t want nothin’ to do with him, and told him so. Then her brother came to visit. We was surprised the first time he came, because we all knowed her family had turned her off when she married Master Edward. She was so happy to see him she never saw he was usin’ her.”

“Her family turned her out?” Marcus asked in surprise.

Mrs. Cotter’s white head bobbed. “Master Edward was injured while in France, and she nursed him back to health. She done so in secret an’ hid him from her family. When he was well enough to travel, he married her an’ brought her back with him. The folks ’round here never really took a likin’ to her, but she was real nice to me.

“My ma was the housekeeper at the time, an’ I was just one of the maids. But she took a shine to me an’ I became her lady’s maid.”

“I thought you were the housekeeper?” Marcus asked.

“That wasn’t till later, after they was all gone,” she said slowly.

Corinna watched Marcus struggle to follow Mrs. Cotter’s narration. She tended to jump from subject to subject, going off on a tangent during portions of her recital when she was just about to reveal a piece of information Corinna could tell Marcus particularly wanted to know.

Despite the uneven telling, Corinna listened to a tragic story of family betrayal that would astound many—including her with her checkered family history.

“Master Edward came back from France in ’04, I think it was. With the two countries bein’ at war, it wasn’t safe once Miss Emili’s family found out he was there. They was strong supporters of the emperor, you see. His lordship, the earl, wasn’t none too happy to see him either.”

“Why?” Marcus asked.

“’Cause of his wife. The earl didn’t have no likin’ for the Frenchies. At least his brother was happy to see him, though.”

“Brother? What brother?” This was obviously the first Marcus had heard of any other possible family members, but she suddenly remembered one of the unexplained pictures in the gallery. She’d meant to ask him about it, but forgot the last time he’d found her there.

“Master Henry,” Mrs. Cotter answered. “He was the elder, the heir, but when Master Edward returned, barely able to walk, Master Henry turned over the running of the estate to him and went off to war himself.”

“What happened to him?”

Mrs. Cotter shook her head sadly. “He was killed in Spain. Broke the old earl’s heart it did. He died a year later and Master Edward became the new earl. He was a good man and treated everyone well. He and her ladyship doted on each other and their little girl, Em. Everythin’ would have been jes’ fine if’n her ladyship’s brother hadn’t become a regular visitor and that Lord Rearden woulda stayed away.”

“So, what happened?” Marcus asked. “My father thought my grandmother was helping her family in France. That she was actually the guilty party.”

“She didn’t figure it out till it was too late.” The sadness in her voice was almost tangible. “Her brother would sneak over here from France and ask her to send letters for him. To friends, he said. And she would do it, and use the earl’s frank to send ’em.

“When she finally figured it out, after the soldiers came and took his lordship away, she tried to go to London to tell them what she knew, but she couldn’t get anyone to listen to her. She told me the whole story when she came back. She was near beside herself, but she came back to make sure that we was all taken care of.”

“Who was taken care of?”

“The staff,” she answered. “She knew’d there was gonna be a new owner, but she wanted us to know she hadn’t forgotten us. She paid all our wages, then told us we could stay on if’n we wanted to, but she wasn’t sure if’n the new owner would keep us. Most everybody left, ’ceptin’ Mr. Cotter an’ me. That’s how I became the housekeeper. I birthed all my babies in the big house.”

Corinna could see Marcus still had more questions, but it was obvious Mrs. Cotter was beginning to tire. A few minutes later, during a lull in the conversation, her twelve-year-old great-granddaughter came in to tell her it was time for her to rest.

“And what do ya think I been doin’ while I’m sittin’ and talkin’ to his lordship?” she asked the young girl. Unfazed by the question, the girl did not answer back. Instead she shook her head and “tut-tutted” when her great-grandmother sent her off to another room to find something.

Nan, they learned the young girl was called, returned with the requested box and set it in the old woman’s lap as Marcus rose to his feet.

“We have troubled you enough for one day, ma’am,” he began, but was cut off by a wave of a hand.

“No, you haven’t,” she stated, “but I’ll let you go all the same.” She pulled a fat envelope out of the box and held it out to him. “You’ll be wantin’ this,” she told him.

Marcus took the envelope. Corinna could see faded writing on the front. “What is it?”

“’Tis a letter from her ladyship,” was the reply. “She gave it to me before she left. Said I was to decide who to give it to. She said it would explain everythin’, if’n anyone really wanted to know. I’m guessin’ you would be the right person to read it.”

As they were leaving, she called out, “Don’t forget to open the bottom of her ladyship’s wardrobe. They’ll all be there.”

Corinna could tell Marcus wanted to ask her what she meant, but they could come back another day to find out. He was probably in a hurry to get home and read the letter.

They left the village in silence, Corinna remaining so because she knew Marcus was still digesting all he had learned. She had, for the most part, been a bystander today. Mrs. Cotter had been happy to meet her, but it was Marcus who she primarily spoke to.

She was still amazed at what Mrs. Cotter had revealed. Despite the picture in the gallery, the Countess had been a warm and loving person to those who accepted her. She had adored her husband and daughter and devoted herself to making a comfortable and happy home for them until her brother turned up.

She shook her head. So much unnecessary tragedy. But all’s fair in love and war—so the saying went. And England and France had been at war. It was too easy to point fingers back then, to assume that just because she was French, she was the enemy. It was very likely the reason no one listened to her in London was because she was French. And it was the very reason the locals around St. Ayers had shut her out.

Perhaps the letter would shed more light on why circumstances played out the way they did. Why she did not suspect what her brother was up to. And why she could not get anyone to listen to her when she attempted to tell them the truth.

It was time for luncheon when they reached the house and, after a light meal, she went off to confer with the cook about something special for dinner while Marcus adjourned to the library.

Marcus spent most of the afternoon reading through what turned out to be nearly a dozen sheets of vellum, written closely in a small, neat hand—in French. It was rough going because some of the sheets were liberally splattered with what looked to be tears, which had caused some of the ink to run. In addition, his grandmother wrote with the same volatility the French were wont to speak with, so her descriptions and accounts tended to wax long.

In the end, however, it was little more than a tale of greed, lust and vengeance. And his grandparents had been the victims. Mr. Shakespeare could not have crafted a finer tale.

There might have been extenuating circumstances, but injustice often happens and goes uncorrected. The loss of what might have been and the speculation that follows can drive people to do things they might not have otherwise done. But through it all, Marcus knew the one thing he could not shake was the fact that, in the end, his own mother had deliberately murdered his father. And no one, according to Brand, not even his father’s doctor, suspected at the time.

He ran his hand over his face and through his hair, releasing a long pent-up sigh.

His parents’ troubles were all in the past. Whether anyone else knew or not was no longer important, especially since he did not need to search for a wife.

His thoughts turned to Corinna and a smile crossed his face. She had come into his life when he needed someone most, even if neither of them realized it. India now seemed like a distant memory compared to the reality of Corinna and here and now.

The past two weeks with Eliza and Felicia, she had blossomed. She was still a little shy, and not quite insistent enough when she wanted something, but he noticed, and admired, the changes that were slowly emerging. He sensed her trepidation at going to London, but she did not let it overshadow her excitement at finally meeting her mother’s family and enjoying the social whirl.

Was she worried about her brother’s probable reaction to her appearance as his wife? Did she think he might contest the marriage? He frowned. Even though she had been underage when the ceremony was performed, he had no doubts about its legitimacy. Douglas had given his approval and, knowing Corinna’s father, Marcus had no doubt he had named Douglas as Corinna’s guardian. He could always say Douglas had named him as Corinna’s guardian by witnessing the marriage ceremony. It was possible that recording the marriage in the parish register was enough. Would there have been some indication as to whether or not a special license had been obtained? Perhaps he should add that to the list of questions he needed to ask a solicitor. Although, in the end, it mattered not. If they needed to, he and Corinna would repeat the ceremony in secret to avoid any speculation.