Scandal at the Dower House (26 page)

When she sought Nicholas out to thank him she found him in the estate office writing letters and sending grooms riding off with them. He looked up and smiled at her, and her heart turned over with love for him.

‘I’ve just one more letter to write. I’ll come to the library when it’s done.’

She went and sat before a roaring fire, all her anxieties set at rest, and feeling more at peace than she had done since Walter’s death. The time for lies was over and she could relax. When Nicholas came in he pulled up a footstool and sat beside her, taking her hands in his and kissing them.

‘We’ll beat them,’ he said. ‘The tale Jeremy spun was a little confused. Tell me all about it.’

Hesitantly she began, telling him how Joanna, in deep distress, had come to her for help when Matthew deserted her, how they had spent the time in Lisbon until she was delivered, and how Joanna had met and fallen in love with Eduardo.

‘She said all along she did not wish to keep the baby, and once Maria was born she rejected her. I could not bear to give her away, so I decided to keep her. Joanna didn’t care,’ she added bitterly.

‘This so-called marriage,’ he said slowly. ‘Did Joanna tell you where it took place?’

‘Matthew took her to small church a few miles south of Bristol. They didn’t have time to go far. She was foolish to believe it was a legal ceremony when they had to use the church at night, and secretly, but my sister has always been a romantic little fool!’

He suddenly stood up.

‘My love, we must settle this as soon as possible. I will invite Sir Humphrey and your cousin here, the Reverend Eade as well, and we will examine the facts. Now forgive me, I have some more letters to write.’

* * * *

Catarina did not at all relish the thought of facing her cousin and the Rector again, and Sir Humphrey was no longer an indulgent elderly man who wished to marry her. He would be resentful, and she feared he might take this opportunity to try to humiliate her. She breathed deeply and told herself she had to endure whatever they said. Words could not damage her, but she was confident Nicholas would not permit them to take Maria away, and that was all that mattered.

The Reverend Eade called later that day, but Catarina did not see him. She had been in the nursery, helping Clarice unpack all the ancient toys that were stored there, which had been the playthings of earlier generations of Walter’s family.

Maria did not know which toy to look at first, and they ended up with the floor of the day nursery littered with all manner of things, dolls, chap books, balls, and even the furniture of a doll’s house.

Blodwen had packed some of Catarina’s new dresses, and when she changed for dinner she chose the most flattering, one in a soft green with short puffed sleeves and an overdress of silver gauze. It was, perhaps, too elaborate for a simple dinner at home, but it suited her to perfection, and she could wear with it a string of emeralds set in a filigree gold necklace. From the admiring looks both Nicholas and Jeremy gave her she was satisfied she looked better than they had ever seen her.

At dinner Nicholas announced he had arranged for the meeting to be held in two days’ time.

‘How will you convince them?’ Jeremy asked.

‘Don’t worry, they will be convinced,’ he said, but refused to say more. ‘Jeremy, what do you propose to do about the villagers?’

Jeremy frowned. ‘I will have to permit them to go on as they always have, until the stubborn ones see the benefits of what I am doing and decide they will agree to changes. But they will all have a hard time this winter, and I don’t know how much I will be able to help.’

‘I will supply whatever money you need, and help in finding food. But there is another matter which needs urgent attention. Do you wish to have the Eades remain as your neighbours? Would you not prefer to choose a man more congenial for your Rector?’

‘Yes, but how can I? I suppose Walter gave him the living?’ he added, turning to Catarina.

‘Yes, he did, on the recommendation of some old university friend, a tutor at Oxford.’

‘Where does he come from, do you know?’ Nicholas asked.

‘I believe his childhood home was near Norwich.’

‘Excellent. I have contacts there. I will make enquiries about possible livings, or even a position in the Cathedral hierarchy. I am sure he will prefer to go back there, especially when he understands he will not be invited to dine at Marshington Grange in future. You don’t wish for his company, do you?’ he asked Jeremy.

Jeremy laughed. ‘Nick, you are indeed a devil, after your namesake! I certainly do not wish to have to be polite to him, and I certainly don’t wish to listen to his tedious sermons.’

‘Then I suggest you begin to think whether any of your old cronies took orders. Or there is the curate at home, perhaps he is ready for a parish. But don’t make your choice too quickly. You’ll have to live with the man for years.’

After dinner Nicholas retired to the estate office with Jeremy, saying there were matters to be decided, as he must soon be going home to Brooke Court.

Catarina, feeling somewhat flat after the excitement of the past few days, and a little hurt Nicholas did not seem to wish to spend time with her, soon went to bed. What did he intend for her? Did he still want to marry her, now he knew about all the lies she had told him? What would happen when Matthew and he came face to face? Could Nicholas really convince them of the truth about the sham marriage? Was Maria safe?

* * * *

Catarina saw the Reverend and Mrs Eade arriving, and retreated to the drawing room while Jeremy’s butler showed them into the dining room, where Nicholas had decreed the meeting was to take place. As far as she knew Mrs Eade had not been invited, but it was typical of the woman to insist on coming.

Soon afterwards Sir Ivor and Matthew arrived, Matthew driving a new, yellow-painted curricle drawn by two fractious Welsh cobs. They were so fresh she knew her uncle must have stayed the night at some nearby inn. Then Sir Humphrey appeared, driving a very staid gig. With him was the village constable, looking, Catarina thought, decidedly uneasy. She felt sorry for the poor man, being asked to take action against her if Sir Ivor and Matthew could convince him they had a right to remove Maria from her care.

Nicholas, for reasons he did not explain, had sent the carriage to the village, and when it returned it drove straight round to the stables.

Jeremy then appeared, limping slightly and with his broken arm still in a splint.

‘What’s old Nick up to?’ he demanded. ‘I know my brother when he takes it into his head to play a lone hand, but I’d like to know what he expects of us. I don’t want to say anything out of turn.’

‘I don’t expect he’ll permit that, and we’ll soon know what is going to happen, no doubt,’ Catarina said, trying to calm him, but feeling anything but calm herself. ‘Just don’t talk unless it’s to answer your brother’s questions.’

Her stomach was churning with anxiety. Would Nicholas be able to convince Matthew he had no right to take Maria away? If he failed, she would be utterly devastated. She had come to love the child as much as though she were her own, and could not face the prospect of losing her. Nor did she dare contemplate the sort of life Maria would have if she were left at the mercy of Matthew and his father.

Nicholas appeared before her thoughts could get out of control. He was dressed with great formality, in buff pantaloons, a dark blue, perfectly fitting coat, a white waistcoat with white embroidery, and a cravat tied in what Catarina thought was the Osbaldson.

‘Are you ready?’ he asked, and Catarina, unable to speak, nodded and rose to her feet.

He smiled comfortingly, put his arm about her shoulders and hugged her then led her through the hall into the dining room opposite. He ushered her to a chair next to the one he took at the head of the table, and gestured to Jeremy to sit the other side of her. Was he surrounding her, protecting her, Catarina wondered a little hysterically. She looked round at the others, clustered at the other end of the table. Staines was standing just inside the doorway, so immobile she soon forgot he was there.

Matthew gave her a triumphant smile.

‘I think we’ll soon convince his lordship and the authorities, in the persons of Sir Humphrey and the constable, that I have a just case,’ he said.

Nicholas rapped on the table.

‘My lady,’ he said, turning to Catarina, ‘it is the child you brought home from Lisbon we are concerned about. Can you tell us about Maria’s birth, when, where, and to whom?’

Catarina took a deep breath, and when she spoke was thankful her voice did not tremble.

‘My sister Joanna gave birth on the fifteenth of November last year, in Lisbon. She had previously told me Matthew, our cousin, was the father.’

‘Thank you. And you adopted the child, brought her to England?’

Thank goodness he was not dwelling on Joanna’s rejection of the baby.

‘Yes. Joanna had met and was marrying a Brazilian who was about to return to Brazil.’

‘A very long journey for a young baby,’ he commented, and Catarina admired how he managed to suggest an acceptable reason for Maria’s being left behind.

‘So the child’s birth and parentage are established. Were her parents lawfully married?’

‘Of course we were,’ Matthew interrupted.

Nicholas looked at him, his eyebrows raised, and Catarina shivered. She had never seen him with so arrogant an expression on his face.

‘That is the important point, is it not? Where did the ceremony take place, and when?’

‘In March last year. Just after Catarina’s husband died. At the church of St John outside Bristol.’

‘At night, Joanna told Catarina.’

‘Joanna preferred it that way. She wanted to keep it a secret.’

No she didn’t, you did, you despicable toad, Catarina thought.

‘And it did not take place, I assume, by banns, since she was not married from the home where she was living. What sort of licence did you obtain?’

Matthew sighed impatiently. ‘What does all this rigmarole matter? I had a licence.’

Nicholas ignored the question.

‘From whom did you obtain it?’

‘The bishop, of course.’

‘And did you reside in the parish of St John before the marriage?’

‘Why should I have?’

‘Joanna did not, either. A common licence can be used only if one party has resided in the parish for four weeks. Also people under age need proof of the consent of parents or guardians. Joanna was only eighteen, a minor.’

‘She had my consent,’ Sir Ivor interrupted.

Catarina thought he was beginning to look worried. She glanced at the Eades and saw a look of puzzlement on the Rector’s face. Mrs Eade was tugging at his sleeve, but he paid her no attention.

‘Mr Norton, you claim your licence was a common one. But marriages celebrated with such must take place where one party has lived for four weeks, and can only be celebrated between the hours of eight in the morning and noon. Yours did not.’

‘Well, it must have been the other sort, then. I forget. Is this important? We were married.’

‘You both signed the parish register at the time I assume, together with your witnesses.’

‘Of course.’

Nicholas looked across at Staines, who slipped from the room. Then he turned to Catarina.

‘You have the letter your cousin sent Joanna, repudiating the marriage?’

Catarina took it from her reticule and handed it to him. He read it out slowly.

‘That was a joke,’ Matthew blustered.

‘Isn’t it time this farce came to an end?’ Sir Ivor demanded. ‘We are wasting time. My son and my niece were married.’

‘And he therefore is trying to control her fortune, now she is so far away and unable to dispute it.’ Nicholas turned round as the door opened. ‘Ah, gentlemen, please come in. Can I introduce the curate of St John’s parish, and the Bishop’s secretary? Do sit down, gentlemen.’

They took the seats facing Catarina and Jeremy. The curate placed a large book on the table in front of him. Nicholas smiled and opened it at a page where there was a marker.

‘Here we have the marriage register of St John’s parish. There is no entry of this supposed marriage between Mr Norton and Joanna. Perhaps you wish to verify that fact?’

‘They must have torn the page out!’ Matthew snarled.

‘The pages are numbered, Sir, and none are missing,’ the curate told him.

‘Then I have the name of the church incorrectly.’

Nicholas turned to the other newcomer.

‘Sir? What have you discovered?’

‘There is no mention of either Mr Matthew Norton or Miss Joanna Norton in the Bishop’s transcripts for that time.’

‘What the devil do you mean? What are these things?’

The Reverend Eade, who had been silent until now, spoke.

‘Each parish is obliged, every year, to send to the bishop a record of all entries in the parish registers. It seems clear to me that if there is neither a record in the register itself, nor in the transcripts, no marriage took place. I have been grievously misled, Mr Norton, Sir Ivor. My lady, pray accept our apologies for associating ourselves with these — I can only call them knaves. I will be preaching a sermon on the wickedness of trying to deceive for monetary gain. Come, my dear, I am leaving since there is nothing for us to do here.’

They departed, much to Catarina’s relief. She did not think she could have endured speaking to them.

Matthew was looking sick, and his father furious.

‘Why did you have to drag me into this imposture?’ Sir Ivor demanded. ‘I believed you, but you’re no son of mine to behave like this!’

He stormed out of the room and Matthew, throwing a glance of fury at Nicholas, who ignored him, followed.

Nicholas was thanking the curate and the bishop’s secretary, and asking them to stay for a nuncheon, but they both said they were happy to have been of assistance in preventing such a miscarriage of justice, but ought to be setting off back to Bristol as soon as possible. Staines took them out.

Sir Humphrey, who had remained silent throughout, coughed.

‘Well, Catarina, I am pleased it has all been satisfactorily settled. I hope to call on you in a day or so.’