The Disappearing Duchess (2 page)

‘Tell me their names, Mama.’

Mrs Seymour shook her head. ‘I know no more. I swear he told me nothing.’

‘Very well, give me the name of the workhouse.’

‘It will do little good after all this time.’

‘Tell me what I wish to know and I shall leave you in peace. Deny me and I shall continue to question and demand. I am no longer the frightened child I was when I was so cruelly abandoned by you.’

‘It was not my wish—but your shame had to be hidden.’

‘Why? Had you loved me as a mother should, you could have taken me away, perhaps abroad, and let me keep my babe. We might have found an honest living somehow.’

‘Why do you care about the child if you were raped, as you claim?’

‘How could you doubt me?’ Lucinda looked at her sadly. ‘The man who used me so cruelly was a monster and if my father had stood by me, he might have been punished—but Papa preferred to believe his friend’s lies. He, I hate—but my child is innocent. Mama, can you not see that I need to see my child? The knowledge that she lives is tearing at my heart. I shall never be at peace until I know how she is.’

‘What will you do if you find her?’

‘I am not certain—but I must know she is well and happy. Can you not see that I should never rest easy if I simply left her to her fate?’

‘I do not…’ Mrs Seymour’s eyes dropped in shame.

In the end she’d given her daughter all the details she had. Lucinda had left the house that same day.

It had taken her two weeks of travelling, often on foot, to find the workhouse and another week before she could persuade the woman in charge to tell her the names of the couple who had taken her daughter.

‘You understand that I told you nothing,’ she said and looked at the silver locket and ruby brooch lying in her hand. ‘Your father told us to have the brat adopted and Mrs Jackson had none of her own then.’

‘She has other children now?’

‘Aye, they come like that. She has four of them under the age of four and more than she can manage. She’ll likely be glad to get rid of Susan.’

‘You called my daughter Susan?’ The woman
nodded. ‘Thank you, madam. Now will you kindly tell me where to find my daughter?’

‘You’ll find the family at the sign of the Cock’s Spur.’

‘Mrs Jackson and her husband run a hostelry?’

‘Aye, you might call it that, though some round here would have other words—’tis a den of thieves if you ask me.’

‘Thank you for the information. I hope you have told me the truth. If not, I shall return—and then you will be very sorry for lying to me. My husband is a powerful man and he will punish you.’

‘You don’t look like the wife of a powerful man.’ The warden sniffed.

‘What I choose to wear is my business,’ Lucinda said proudly.

She had walked away, her heart beating frantically.

It had not taken long to discover the inn of which the warden had told her. She had ventured inside, hoping to find a reasonable woman with whom she might bargain for the return of her daughter. However, she had soon discovered the innkeeper’s wife to be a filthy slut who harangued her husband and her customers and screamed abuse at any provocation. She’d eyed Lucinda suspiciously and demanded to know what she wanted.

‘If you’re after summat, yer’ll get naught here,’ she said. ‘If yer want to service men, you’ll do it elsewhere. I run a clean house here and don’t harbour doxies.’

‘I was looking for a child. She was adopted from the workhouse five years ago.’

‘What do yer want her fer?’

‘She is my daughter and I want her back.’

‘Yer do, do yer?’ The woman glared at her. ‘I’ll sell her fer five hundred guineas if yer like.’

‘I have only a silver trinket box and a diamond brooch that was my godmother’s,’ Lucinda said. ‘The child is my daughter. She was stolen from me at birth and I have just discovered that you have her. For pity’s sake, let me take her. I will give you all I have.’

‘Clear orf. The girl will fetch good money in a year or two. I’ve had offers for her already and they were more than you’re offering. I know your sort. Yer think I’m green behind the ears. Men will pay a fortune for a wench like that—and I’ll sell her to the highest bidder when the time comes.’

‘No, you mustn’t. Please, you can’t,’ Lucinda cried in distress. She could not allow such a wicked thing to happen. ‘I’ll get money for you. She’s my daughter. I swear it on the Bible.’

‘The price just went up to one thousand guineas,’ the woman said, a gleam of avarice in her eyes. ‘You’ve got a week to find the money or she goes to the highest bidder.’

‘Let me see Susan, please.’

‘Yer can see ‘er—but no funny business. Try snatchin’ ‘er and I’ll call me husband and yer’ll be sorry.’

Lucinda promised she would not and waited while the woman went into what looked like a kitchen at the
rear. Her nails curled into the palms of her hands as she reappeared, dragging a reluctant child into the taproom. Lucinda’s heart plummeted as she saw how dirty and thin the little girl was. She wanted to weep for pity, but knew that she must show no emotion. Kneeling in front of the child, she tipped her chin with one finger and her heart turned over. She had seen those eyes before—a curious greenish-blue; she saw them every day when she looked at herself in a mirror. The child was hers. The warden had not lied to her.

Resisting the urge to snatch her in her arms and run, Lucinda smiled at the little girl, reached into her pocket and took out a small cake she’d brought with her. She offered it to the child, who looked suspicious.

‘It is a cake for you,’ she said. ‘Listen to me, Susan. One day soon I am going to fetch you. I am going to take you to live with me.’

‘Not unless I get me thousand guineas you ain’t.’ The woman shoved the little girl. ‘Back to your work.’

‘Please be kind to her,’ she said as the child bit the cake, her eyes opening in wonder as she tasted its sweetness. ‘I shall be back within the week.’

It had cost Lucinda so much pain to leave her daughter here. Her heart wrenched with pity as the child glanced back at her before disappearing into the kitchen.

‘What work does she do?’

‘Anyfin’ I tell ‘er,’ the woman answered. ‘Yer’ve got one week—and then she’s gone.’

‘I shall be back,’ Lucinda said and left before she wept.

She’d known even then that her trinkets would not fetch one-tenth of the woman’s demands for the child. Even had she sold the wedding gown she’d hidden, it would not have brought enough—though she believed it had cost many hundreds of guineas when Justin bought it for her.

Had she only brought her jewels with her she might have found the money easily enough. There was not enough time to return to Avonlea and fetch the jewels or even to ask Justin for a loan. Lucinda faced the facts. She could not raise such a huge sum and so she had only one choice. She must steal the child.

Susan had been stolen from her. She would steal her back.

First she had to make a plan. She had hired a cottage in the next village so that the innkeeper’s wife would not become suspicious. She bought other clothes and a wig to cover the flame red of her hair and she wore a torn and dirty shawl, rubbing dirt into her cheeks. In this way she had managed to visit the inn yard without being noticed by the landlady on two occasions. She had discovered that the child was given the chore of carrying out the slops first thing in the mornings, after the guests had gone down to break their fast.

* * *

And so today was the day. She locked up the cottage and left for the inn to claim her daughter as her own. At a quarter to the hour of nine she was in the yard watching,
sheltering behind a wagon that had come to deliver hay for the stables. When she saw the child carrying her heavy pail down to the midden, she ran towards her.

‘Drop that and come with me,’ she instructed her. ‘I am going to take you away and look after you, my darling. That wicked woman will not punish you again.’

‘Will yer give me a cake?’ The child looked at her anxiously. ‘Yes, my dearest child. I will give you a cake every day. Come with me now and I shall take care of you.’

The child stood the pail down, offered her hand and together they ran. They hadn’t stopped running until they reached the crossroads and saw the mail coach heading towards them. Lucinda knew that it stopped briefly at the crossing and she ran to it as a gentleman got down, looking up at the coachman.

‘Please take me to the next big town.’

‘We do not stop again until we reach Watford, ma’am.’

‘That will be perfect,’ Lucinda said and placed the last of her money into his hands. ‘The child will sit on my lap.’

‘You’ve given me threepence too much,’ he said and returned the coppers to her. ‘Hop in and make sure the child behaves.’

‘She will,’ Lucinda said and put an arm about her daughter’s thin shoulders. ‘We shall both be as quiet as mice.’

Climbing into the coach, she pulled the child onto her lap, holding her close.

‘It will be all right now,’ she whispered. ‘The nasty woman will not find us and I’ll look after you. I’m your mother, you see? You were stolen from me when you were just a babe. I’d named you Angela and you are my daughter. No one will hurt you again. I promise.’

She had brought some food for the journey and took a small sugared bun from her bundle, giving it to the child. Angela’s thin body felt warm against her as she ate contentedly and then fell asleep, her head resting against Lucinda’s breast.

It was then that Lucinda realised she had only accomplished a part of her plan. The next phase would be more difficult. She had to find somewhere for them to live—there was no going back to that hovel of a cottage—and some way of earning her living.

Then she would go to Justin and tell him why she’d run away.

Tears trickled down her cheeks. She loved her husband so much and she feared he would hate her for what she’d done. Until this moment, all her thoughts had been centred on rescuing her child and it was only now that she had begun to realise the enormity of her cruelty towards the man she’d married. Afraid to tell him her secret, she had run away, leaving a simple note to say she had something she must do and would return when she could. He must have wondered why she had
not confided her problem to him and he might not wish to see her.

For the first time Lucinda realised that in abandoning her husband so abruptly she might have lost her only chance of real happiness. She had been living in a nightmare, but now she had woken to the cold dawn of reality.

What was she going to do now?

* * *

‘Where was this found?’ Justin looked at the crumpled silk wedding gown, which was made of the finest materials available and had been a part of the many gifts he’d given his bride. ‘And why was it not discovered before this?’

‘It had been hidden behind some hay bales in a barn, your Grace,’ the man said, looking uncomfortable. ‘We looked in the barn for the young lady, sir. I swear we looked, but we did not think to move the hay because there was only the wall, or so we thought. The gown was found when the hay was used and someone saw a bit of silk sticking out.’

‘Yes, I understand,’ Justin said. ‘Very well. Thank you for bringing it to me.’ He took two guineas from his pocket, but the man shook his head.

‘I need no reward for bringing it to you, my lord. We’re all very sorry about what happened.’

‘Yes, thank you.’ Justin was short with the man, because he could not stand pity. His pride would not let him show his hurt to anyone. Lucinda had made a fool of him—and she’d done it deliberately. She must
have hidden the gown, because if she’d been kidnapped it would not have been left behind. Besides, in all this time there had been no demand for a ransom.

After his tenant had gone, he paced the room. His nerves were at breaking point because of the hell he had suffered since his wife disappeared. Where on earth had Lucinda gone and why had she left him? Why run away on her wedding day?

There must be a clue somewhere.

His mouth firming into a grim line, he turned, left the room and walked upstairs to the apartments that should have been hers. He would search the rooms himself. Something must have been overlooked.

The rooms were empty and very neat when he entered. He began opening drawers and taking things out. Silk lingerie, stockings, gloves, scarves and handkerchiefs were tossed on to the floor. Costly gowns were pulled from the armoire and thrown carelessly onto the bed. Each chest was searched, but nothing was found. He looked at the jewel box on the dressing chest and opened it. All the jewels he’d given Lucinda were there, but he remembered that the case had a secret drawer. He pressed the button and saw that her favourite ruby brooch and also a diamond pin that her godmother had left her were gone. Giving a snarl of frustration, he knocked the case to the ground.

‘Damn you, Lucinda. Damn you for leaving me to this hell on earth.’

Seeing the beautiful things scattered over the floor,
he felt some remorse for his temper and bent to retrieve a lovely pearl necklace from beneath the dressing table. Something white caught at the back took his eye. It was a piece of folded paper that had fallen behind the dressing table somehow and lodged halfway down.

He reached up to retrieve it and saw that it was a note addressed to him in Lucinda’s hand. She
had
written to him! He began to read eagerly.

Why had he not had the room searched properly? If this letter had been found, it might have saved him hours of heart searching and distress. His throat caught with emotion. Lucinda did not hate him. She had not fled because she feared to be his wife. In fact, though they’d never spoken deeply about their feelings, it seemed his beautiful young wife loved him! All the
nightmares that had haunted him since her disappearance had vanished, leaving just two questions.