In the Shadow of Arabella (30 page)

“Lord and Lady Parnaby have gone driving, my lord. His lordship did not say when he expected to return.”

“Would it be possible for me to speak with the dowager viscountess?”

When the butler carried the card to her ladyship and read it to her, she smiled and cocked her head with interest. “Lord Rudley! How lovely. And his lady is with him, of course.”

“No, my lady,” the butler corrected. “His lordship is alone.”

“How curious. Show him up. I am most anxious to see him.”

Some minutes later Rudley was ushered into Lady Parnaby’s sitting room. As he entered, the lady rose from her chair and extended a hand. He crossed to her and took it in his, noticing that her vacant blue eyes did not meet his but stared past him.

“Lord Rudley!” she exclaimed. “What a pleasant surprise. You are the last person I expected to see today.” She smiled slightly. “You will understand that when I say ‘see’ I do not intend to be taken literally. Please sit down. May I offer you some refreshment?’’

When the butler was sent for wine, she continued. “I remember you well from your early days on the town. I need add only a few years, and my mental picture will be quite accurate, I daresay. I must tell you that your wife is one of my favorite people.”

“She speaks highly of you, too, Lady Parnaby. Since I had business nearby, I knew she would wish me to call and pay my respects.”

“How kind.”

“You have known Katherine a long time, I believe.”

“Indeed, ever since her mother married Sir Humphrey and came to live nearby. Sir Humphrey was a different man in those days—before the drink and the evil of gambling consumed him. Katherine and Charity Harrington were inseparable from the beginning, and Charity’s mother and I go back further than creation. I cannot say as I took much note of Katherine, though, until she was about sixteen or so. I was at the lending library, and my eyesight was failing even then. She offered to help me choose a book. Later, when I could no longer read myself, the dear child came and read to me. Sometimes she brought the most inappropriate things.
Novels.
Can you imagine? But I never objected; I listened with attention to every word.”

The butler returned with the wine. After Rudley was served he said, “Katherine told me she found several opportunities to visit with you while she was here in May.”

“Bless her, the child came nearly every day, and heaven only knows there are dozens of more interesting things a young woman could do with her time than sit listening to an old woman chatter. I asked her all about you, sir, and she sang your praises most eloquently.”

Rudley frowned, relieved that she could not see his reaction.

When he was silent, she asked, “Have I embarrassed you? I did not intend to. You have chosen an exceptional woman as your wife, my lord. When she was here with me, I could see that you have made her happy. I can ask for nothing more than that.”

Rudley stayed another ten minutes with the viscountess, then took his leave and followed the butler down the stairs to the great hall. As he collected his hat and gloves, the front door opened and Lord Parnaby and his new wife entered.

“Rudley!” Parnaby exclaimed, trying to sound pleasantly surprised but unable to keep a hint of incredulity from his voice.

Rudley greeted them both before addressing Parnaby. “I have been visiting with your mother and I was hoping to have a word with you. Perhaps you could accompany me to my carriage.”

“Certainly.” After assuring his wife that he would join her for dinner, Parnaby left the house with the earl. As they walked down the drive toward the stables, Parnaby said, “I must say you are the last person I ever expected to see here.’’

“Your mother said exactly the same thing.”

“I cannot imagine what we could possibly have to discuss.”

“Can you not? You saw Katherine when she was here in May.”

“Yes. I saw her once. We met each other quite by accident here in the stable-yard. I escorted her back to Harrington Manor.’’

Rudley said nothing but regarded Parnaby steadily with one eyebrow raised.

“Very well,” Parnaby continued guiltily. “Obviously she told you I did more than escort her. But it was months ago. Ancient history, in fact. If you have come here with some belated intention of calling me out, you can forget it. I am a happily married man now, and I do not intend for my wife to become a widow.’’

When Rudley persisted in stony silence, Parnaby demanded, “What? What else do you want to know?”

“I want your version of what happened that day.”

Parnaby sighed. “I was feeling sorry for myself. I thought I had made the world’s greatest mistake in my choice of bride. I kissed Katherine; she pushed me away. As it turns out, I was wrong. My marriage is working out well—quite well.”

When he saw that Rudley was still frowning, he insisted, “It was only a kiss! Nothing worth shooting a man for. Besides, she made it perfectly clear she wanted nothing from me.”

Rudley stopped walking abruptly, and his hand on Parnaby’s arm brought them face-to-face. “I have only one more question and I want an honest answer. Before I ask it, I give you my word that regardless of your answer, I will not call you out or take any other action that would endanger either your life or your happy marriage.”

Parnaby looked at his companion as if he had taken leave of his senses. “What is the question?”

“Have you at any time during your relationship with Katherine been intimate with her?”

“What?”
Parnaby nearly yelled at him. “Are you out of your mind? What kind of a cur do you take me for?’’

Rudley’s voice was deadly calm as he said, “You have not answered the question.”

“The answer is no. I loved Katherine. I would never have done anything to compromise her.”

* * * *

Henderson had been a groom at Rudley Court since he was fifteen—from the days when the previous earl was still alive. He had ridden beside the present Lord Rudley since the early days when he first mastered the skill of driving a four-in-hand. He had been with him through the years of his estrangement from his first wife and his service in the military. During that time he had often seen his employer quiet and thoughtful, using words sparingly. Never had he known him as reticent as on the return trip from Lincolnshire. For two days Rudley drove in complete silence. He left it to Henderson to deal with the changes of horses; he ordered a room or a meal with the fewest words possible.

When they arrived at Rudley Court in the late afternoon, the earl handed the reins to his groom and then swung down from the carriage. “Thank you, Henderson. I am sorry I was such poor company this trip.”

Startled by this outpouring of words after hours of silence, Henderson mumbled, “You need not apologize, m’lord.”

As the curricle rolled away, Rudley paused for a moment to look up at the facade of the house. As each mile passed on the way home, he had become more and more aware of how impossible it would be to confront Katherine. He wanted to go anywhere but back to her, do anything but face her. But he had promised he would come back and he knew he could not add cowardice to the list of his transgressions against her.

Inside the house he went quickly to his rooms and ordered a hot bath. Afterward he dressed carefully for dinner, but when the time came, he found he could not go down. He took off his coat and then untied his neckcloth and tossed it on the bed.

In the salon downstairs Serena and Katherine were awaiting dinner when the door burst open and Oliver strode in.

“When did you get back?” Katherine asked, moving to greet him with a kiss.

“About an hour ago. Nick has already galloped upstairs to find Pam and no doubt eat a monstrous dinner. I cannot believe the amount of food he can stow away.’’

As dinner was announced, Oliver asked, “Is Ned joining us?’’

“He is not home. He had to go away on business.”

“He may have been away, but he is home now. The lads were stabling his team when I arrived.”

The three sat down to dinner, Oliver sharing news of the Harringtons and of his two-week visit with his betrothed. His wedding was just over two months away, and he complained of how hard it had been to leave Charity and how he wished the wedding was over so they could be together. Then, in the next breath, he was bemoaning the great amount of work necessary to set the dower house to rights and swearing he could not possibly have everything ready in time. When the ladies retired to the drawing room after dinner, he hurried off in search of Kendall to demand his always efficient assistance.

Serena and Katherine were left feeling as if a small whirlwind had passed over them. “Your brother-in-law is clearly in a lovesick condition,” Serena commented.

“I, for one, hope he never recovers,’’ Katherine said. “He has made Charity wonderfully happy.’’

The sisters spent a quiet evening together and retired early, Katherine carefully following the doctor’s orders. She was in bed reading when there came a quiet knock on the door connecting her rooms to Rudley’s.

She said, “Come,” and was surprised to see her husband partially dressed for dinner. She wondered briefly why he had not joined them. Then he moved into the light of her candles and the expression on his face drove all thought of his apparel from her mind. His face was tired and drawn, his expression grave.

“Ned, what is wrong? Why did you not come down to dinner?”

“I had to talk to you alone, so I waited for you to come up.”

He walked to the open curtain and looked out to where a pale sliver of moon etched a path across the shadowy lake.

“I owe you an apology,” he said. “God, how pitiful that sounds! I have behaved in an unforgivable fashion. I am an utter and complete fool.”

Shocked to hear such words pouring with great pain from her husband, Katherine said, “Why? . . . What? . . . Please do not say such things. You are not a fool . . . You have not behaved—”

“Katherine,” he interrupted, “I have just come from Lincolnshire. I spoke with Parnaby’s mother—his
blind
mother, the one you visited every day. I spoke with Parnaby himself. He told me about the kiss, that you pushed him away.”

Some moments passed in silence while Katherine took in this shower of words. Finally she said quietly, “I should have told you about it myself.”

“He told me you had never been lovers.”

“I told you that, too.”

“I did not believe you.”

“No.”

He sat despondently in the chair next to the bed, his hands folded between his knees, his voice thick with emotion. “That tiny, perfect child was mine.”

There was a long pause before Katherine said quietly, “Nurse told me you saw the baby that morning.”

“Yes. I did.”

“Would you tell me about her?”

“I had planned to when you were stronger. She was born at about four-thirty. I saw her for the first time shortly before six. She was incredibly small, but perfect. Bailey said from the beginning that she was too weak to survive, but she wiggled and squirmed and made tiny, almost inaudible noises. She even had her eyes open whenever she was awake! I remember being amazed by that.

“They would not allow me to sit alone with you in those early hours, so I stayed with her. Mostly she slept. That night, while I was riding down here, all I could think about was you and your well-being. Then, when Nurse asked me if I wanted to see the baby, I went in to her and I really did not know what to expect—how I would feel.

“What I did feel is rather hard to explain. When I looked at her, I could suddenly see how much you must have loved her as you nurtured her with your own body, and in that moment I wanted to protect her for your sake, and I would have done anything in my power to keep her safe for you. But it was God’s will that she be with Him. I held her when she was christened. Sometime around nine o’clock they told me I could sit with you, and shortly afterward she died. The doctor said she did not suffer but only went to sleep and did not wake again.”

Katherine listened without interruption. Tears sprang to her eyes almost as soon as he began speaking and occasionally one would overflow and fall onto her folded hands. She looked up as he handed her his handkerchief, and she steadied her voice to say, “You never told me what name she was given.”

“I had her christened Rosalind. Rosalind Katherine Seaton.”

Rudley had named the child after his own beloved mother! “But you did not believe she was yours,” she said.

“When the rector asked what name, I said Rosalind Katherine, I did not even think about it. She was yours and you loved her. That was enough.”

Katherine stared unblinking at her husband and in that moment a great deal of healing took place.

“But I failed her,” he said. “I should have been here. I called you a liar. I accused you of infidelity. I read your diary, invaded your privacy. Oliver said you were depressed. That was my fault, too.”

Katherine slid from the bed to kneel in front of him. She wrapped her hands around his clasped ones.

“Ned, I may have been depressed; I certainly missed you. But I loved our baby, and I did everything as I should. I ate well, slept a great deal, obeyed the doctor to the letter. But she came early. It is not your fault; it is no one’s fault.”

He looked up to meet her eyes. “For two entire days I have been asking myself why I could not simply believe you. Why did I think the worst of you, assume the worst had happened between you and Parnaby? It is almost as though I look for ways to make myself miserable—to do my best to destroy all that is good and true in my life.”

“You told me once that your first wife was not honest with you, that she deceived you. I think perhaps it is difficult for you to trust.”

“But you are nothing like Arabella,” he said. “She purposely lied to me—planned her deception.’’

“I think you should tell me about her,” Katherine suggested. “Everything. All she did, all she said. If you will do that, then I promise to tell you all the awful things about Sir Humphrey that I have wanted to forget. Then perhaps we could start again, with no secrets.”

“All right,” he agreed. “I will tell you—but not tonight.” He rose and, taking her hands, pulled her to her feet. “I think you should be in bed. It is cold and the doctor was very clear about the amount of rest you need. Sleep now. We will talk again in the morning.”