Island of the Swans (89 page)

Jane did maintain her friendship with the prim and proper queen. She sympathized with the poor woman, who continued to fear that one day the king’s strange malady would reappear.

Later that year, Jane received an invitation for Louisa and her to join in a house party at the family seat of the Cornwallises in Suffolk.

“Have you been flirting more than usual, my dear?” she teased her daughter. “If you have, it appears to have had a good effect.”

Louisa had the decency to blush to the roots of her russet hair. Nearly nineteen, she was now in the full bloom of young womanhood. Her flawless skin, garnet tresses, and the wonderful natural rose color gracing her cheeks along with her loving spirit all conspired to draw others to her. She made her mother intensely proud.

In the back of her mind, however, Jane had always secreted away the uneasy thought that it was through Louisa that Alex might one day seek to punish his wife for the remarkably independent life she led. She feared that somehow the duke might eventually play this trump card, and reveal that he was not the lass’s father. If he did, her daughter with the beautiful red hair would be ruined.

I must get her safely married
, Jane vowed to herself, penning a favorable reply to her hosts in Suffolk.

The evening in mid-May selected for the formal engagement party of Louisa and Viscount Brome, the future Marquess of Cornwallis, proved to be warm and balmy. Jane surveyed the preparations in the Oriental Pavilion, the most popular section of Vauxhall. The pleasure gardens were awash with the golden glow cast by a hundred lanterns lighting the fantastical surroundings. Many guests arrived in elegant barges after being rowed from the City on the slow-moving Thames.

Jane had not consulted with Alex before making the arrangements for the party, and only under last-minute pressure from her sisters Eglantine and Catherine had she sent him an invitation.

“’Tis his
daughter
!” Eglantine exclaimed. Jane looked away quickly and remained silent in the wake of her sister’s mistaken pronouncement. “Louisa’s marrying one of the leading peers in the land! You
must
invite Alex. ’Twill cause even
more
talk about your estrangement if he’s not there.”

Jane glanced down nervously at her mauve-colored gown, selected from the latest fashion of high-waisted, unboned creations dubbed “empire.” She appreciated the comfort and grace of the new designs, but worried that her ample bosom was indiscreetly displayed by the wickedly low-cut neckline that was key to the entire effect. The simplicity of these styles, Jane thought to herself, bordered on indecency.

Louisa looked breathtakingly beautiful in her pale green gown of transparent, diaphanous muslin gathered just below the bosom. Her deep burgundy curls were piled in a deceptively simple style on her head and shot through with two green plumes.

Jane and Louisa and the assembled Gordons, Maxwells, and Cornwallises stood in an informal receiving line to greet the many guests. Alex was nowhere in sight. The Prince of Wales and the Duke of York arrived together—slightly tipsy, it appeared to Jane—but in fine humor. William Pitt merely nodded pleasantly and passed on down the line, but, much to Jane’s surprise, Richard Sheridan, whose comedies she admired despite his politics, bussed her effusively on the cheek.

“I shall write a play about you one day, madam!” teased the author of
The School for Scandal.
’The Matchmaking Duchess,’ I’ll call it, and everyone shall know ’tis about you!”

Jane was pleased that the guests had gone to enormous lengths to dress for the occasion. The crowd virtually glittered in its finery. Even Louisa’s intended groom wore the latest fashion—a dashingly cut tailcoat of dark green wool made to imitate a hunting jacket, with high black velvet collar and cuffs. He was shy and painfully thin, but Jane was relieved to observe his genuine devotion to Louisa.

Jane chuckled at the sight of all the unpowdered hair among the gentlemen. Prime Minister William Pitt had instituted a tax on powder to raise money for the war with France, and instantly, a custom of long standing had disappeared.

The viscount’s father, the Marquess of Cornwallis, seemed to tower over everybody, including his rangy son. Jane had found the former commander to be pleasant in their dealings during her short acquaintance. However, this evening, she detected an unexplained reserve in his manner toward Louisa.

The small orchestra hired for the occasion began to play, and Jane sighed with relief. The announcement of the official engagement would be made soon, and with that, Jane could relax.

Just at that moment, she caught sight of Alex, walking up from the dock toward the receiving line. As she watched him approach, she perceived there was the tiniest hesitation to his step, and she knew instantly that he had been drinking. Alex had always abhorred excessive imbibing and his inebriated state filled her with foreboding.

“Good evening, Lord Cornwallis,” the Duke of Gordon said with a precision that would convince all, save one who knew him well, that he was sober as a judge. “I believe congratulations are in order…” he said, glancing grimly toward Jane, “…to my wife. It seems she has managed yet another sleight-of-hand, for which I must pay the bill.”

“Good evening, Your Grace,” Cornwallis said stiffly. Jane sensed that this soldier and statesman—a man of the world—could instantly detect a man in his cups, no matter how controlled he seemed.

Cornwallis studied his son’s prospective father-in-law, seeming to mull something over in his mind. Finally, the former commander, whose life-and-death decision making had affected thousands of lives in the past, squared his shoulders.

“May I have a word with you both?” he asked pleasantly. “Shall we step into the pavilion for a moment?”

“Why of course, m’lord,” Alex said, slightly slurring his words. “I had planned to ask you to do the same.”

With a sinking heart, Jane accompanied the two men inside the ornate pagoda, its swooping roof suggesting an exotic Chinese temple. Wind chimes tinkled softly in the night air.

“I quite understand why my son should be so enamored of Lady Louisa,” Lord Cornwallis began quietly. “She is one of the great beauties of England, I’ll be bound.”

“Thank you, m’lord.” Jane replied, wondering where this conference was leading.

Alex remained tight-lipped and silent.

“My son’s enthusiasms took hold while I was abroad, and, naturally, I was delighted he seemed ready to settle down.”

“Quite,” Jane said with an uneasy glance in Alex’s direction.

“However,” Cornwallis said, pausing as if concentrating his thoughts on a difficult decision, “it has just come to my attention that there may be a matter of some concern regarding the parentage of my son’s future wife.”

Jane felt as if the room in which they were standing was suddenly reeling. Had Alex secretly put out the true story of who had fathered Louisa, just to hurt both her and her daughter? Jane’s heart pounded furiously, and for a moment, she thought she would faint.

Cornwallis looked directly at Alex and cleared his throat.

“It pains me to have to say this, Your Grace, but I am most mightily concerned with the taint of Gordon Madness so associated with your line.”

Jane blinked and then stared in wonder at the look of utter shock that flooded Alex’s face. He seemed to age before her eyes. His face turned gray and his eyes darted around the red-and-gilt room.

“I do not wish the Cornwallis family to risk such folly, sir,” Cornwallis continued calmly. “If you’ll take the trouble to look closely at my son, you’ll see that our own blood is thin enough, as it is.”

“If you speak of the Duke of Gordon’s brother George, or some distant cousins,” Jane said with a rush, “I must respectfully remind you, sir—”

“I speak of the Duke himself,” Cornwallis countered, not unkindly. “I have it on good authority, sir, that you suffered a bout of madness in Sixty-four. A man, now in my employ, who was a stableboy to the physician Sir Algernon Dick of Prestonfield, confirms this unfortunate finding.”

Alex remained silent, his eyes cast down. Jane knew that an old wound had been opened up, a wound so deep, the two of them had rarely spoken of it since their wedding day. Jane waited for Alex to defend himself, but he said nothing. Sir Algernon, who could vouch for Alex’s stability, was long since in his grave.

“So, you see,” Cornwallis said. “I must ask you not to make any announcement. Though there have been rumors of this engagement, we shall simply let the entire matter fade away quietly. You can rest assured as to my complete discretion on this unfortunate matter.”

“That suits me admirably,” Alex said bitterly. “’Twas toward the same end of halting this engagement that I accepted my wife’s
kind
invitation to attend tonight’s festivities.” He cast a twisted, triumphant glare in Jane’s direction.

With a growing sense of horror, she realized that Alex had intended to hurt her through Louisa from the moment he had pleaded with her to come back to Fochabers—on his terms—and she had refused. This night, his eyes, staring at her so coldly, had become sunken hollows.

“Thank you for taking care of this matter for me, m’lord.” Alex added, bowing with a kind of mocking courtesy. “You do me more of a favor than you shall ever know.”

Jane turned her back on her husband and addressed Lord Cornwallis as if the duke had already departed.

“M’lord,” she demanded boldly, “is your objection to Louisa, m’lord, based solely on the fear of her transmitting madness to your heirs?”

By this time she was filled with barely controlled indignation. The fact that the man who had fathered her
other
six children would strike out so desperately at her seventh, merely to mortally wound his wife, had ignited in Jane a pure flame of righteous anger.

“That is my objection, yes,” Cornwallis repeated with steely politeness. “I want healthy heirs to carry on my line.”

“And if I could
prove
that you had absolutely nothing to fear on that score, would you accept Louisa for your son… who loves her so deeply?”

“But—” Cornwallis said, puzzled, “as we’ve just seen, that is impossible.”

“Why, not at all,” she said in a low voice laced with bitterness. She was about to burn the last bridge of decency connecting Alex and her. “But let us be certain we completely understand each other. You swear you’d have no objection to the match, but for the tainted Gordon blood?”

“I don’t wish my son linked to a guttersnipe, Duchess,” Cornwallis retorted, “but my objection here rests on the issue of the Gordon Madness. Therefore, I see no reason to continue speaking together in this vein…”

Jane flashed her most brilliant smile at the marquess, and turned her back on her husband.

“Then, my dear Lord Cornwallis,” she said distinctly, her eyes flashing, “you have absolutely nothing to fear…
for there’s not a drop of Gordon blood in dear Louisa’s veins!
”

There was stunned silence in the pavilion. Outside, Jane could hear the orchestra playing Handel. Time seemed suspended. Alex raised a trembling hand and touched his forehead. His shoulders sagged. He looked like an old man.

“Are you telling me, Duchess, that your husband, here, the Duke of Gordon, did not father your daughter, Louisa?”

“To be sure, he did
not
, m’lord!” she answered with ferocious candor.

“Your Grace?” Cornwallis said, looking at Alex closely.

The duke laughed bitterly.

“Louisa is not my child, as anyone with eyes can see. She’s—”

“As you are well aware,” Jane interrupted quickly, “this sort of thing happens in the best of families… even among Royals. Louisa’s father is someone you know and respect highly, I believe, m’lord.”

Cornwallis raised an eyebrow at this, obviously intrigued to know of whom Jane spoke.

Jane took a deep breath. “Louisa’s father is Captain Thomas Fraser, son of Sir Thomas Fraser of Struy, though the sire was stripped of the title after the Forty-five. Captain Fraser served brilliantly under you in all your campaigns in the Colonies, I believe.”

A look of utter amazement passed over Cornwallis’ features. “That he did,” he replied, nodding. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Is Thomas Fraser still alive?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Jane answered with a catch in her voice. “He has emigrated to America and resides, I would wager, on a plantation called Antrim Hall in the American colony, Maryland.”

Cornwallis turned to Alex.

“Is this fact of Louisa’s parentage well known?” he asked.

The Duke of Gordon cast a glazed look on them both and shook his head in the negative.

“No one knows, m’lord,” Jane said urgently, “except the adult parties directly involved. Louisa doesn’t know the truth, and, for her own peace of mind, never should… though sometimes,” Jane said, half to herself, “I wonder if she doesn’t think something is…”

Cornwallis shifted his gaze from Jane to Alex and back again. Jane knew he was mulling over yet another momentous decision.

“My son is besotted with your daughter, m’lady. That is clearly obvious,” he said, thinking aloud. “She’s a charming lass, to be sure… and absolutely beautiful to behold…” Then the tall soldier, the one-time commanding general of legions of men, tossed his head back and laughed. “And I have to say—she certainly has
interesting bloodlines
! That’s important to me. I’ve seen too many families ruined by weaklings and idiots. My son is a bit mild-mannered for my tastes, though I’m extremely fond of him. The Cornwallis line could use a little red pepper!” The marquess squinted at Jane’s ample endowments as exhibited by her low cut gown. “Yes, Duchess, I think Lady Louisa
Gordon
,” he emphasized with irony, “will make my son an eminently suitable wife.”