The Enchantress (Book 1 of The Enchantress Saga) (48 page)

But although Analee often thought of Morella she never spoke of her. She knew she was well looked after and that her future was as good as any she could give her. She felt she owed it to the Falcon to start a new life with him and, apart from telling him that the baby was safe, she had told him no more and he never enquired.

Mrs Ardoine had been replaced by a new and younger housekeeper and with her Analee took care to see that the staff, even the meanest, were well housed with ample food, that no one was ill treated or subject to cruel whippings. Analee infused the large household with her own vibrant personality and it became a happy laughing place full of vigour and good cheer.

Analee found it hard on this particular day in July, with the sky outside a clear blue and the birds singing in the park, to concentrate on her work and was gazing out of the window when a voice cried.

‘My lady! My lady!’

Analee, still unused to her new title, looked about her as though to see who could be meant, when Nelly burst in without ceremony, her face alight.

‘Oh, ma’am, who do you think is
here
?’

Analee’s face was alight with excitement and she jumped up, relieved to leave the accounts, and seized Nelly’s hand. ‘Who, Nelly? Who?’

No one was more delighted than Nelly at the elevation of her beloved Analee to the peerage or at her own promotion as personal maid to a Marchioness, but she still maintained the informality of their earlier relationship, at least when they were alone together. In public Lord Falconer insisted that his wife be treated with all the deference due to her station and then Nelly never spoke out of turn, or betrayed their intimacy in any way.

‘Analee, it is Mary – Mary Delamain and her brother John Allonby.’

‘Mary and John here!’

‘Oh, Mary is so excited to see you; but she looks sad and drawn ... I think the business is to do with her husband.’

Analee took Nelly’s hand and made quickly for the door running along the corridor and down the stairs, brushing aside the servant who hastily tried to open the door into the main drawing room.

She opened her arms as soon as she saw Mary and the two women embraced, Mary with tears in her eyes.

‘Oh, Analee ... your ladyship ... I ...’

Analee put up a hand.

‘Analee,
Mary, no ladyship from you! I am Analee the gypsy and always will be ...’

Analee stepped back and gestured towards herself, her simple morning dress, her lack of adornment.  Mary threw back her head and laughed.

‘Analee, what does his lordship say about his wife’s bare feet?’

‘Oh,’ Analee clasped a hand to her mouth. ‘That was a mistake. I am allowed to do it, but only if no one is about. Nelly fetch me my stockings and shoes please.’

Nelly bobbed, stifling a giggle.

‘And Nelly is with you! Oh, Analee, I am so happy for you. I heard, we heard, about his lordship’s serious illness and his recovery...’

John Allonby had stood in the background and now came forward bowing stiffly.

‘Your ladyship, my felicitations on your husband’s recovery and your good fortune.  May you be very happy ...’

‘We are, Mr Allonby,’ Analee, who had never known this dour man well, took his hand and smiled briefly. ‘Now what brings you here? Not bad news?’

John nodded and Mary cast her eyes to the floor.

‘We are here to invoke the compassion of Lord Falconer, your husband, hoping that he will help a distant member of his family now in dire straits.’

‘His family?’ Analee’s gaze went from Mary to John.

‘Brent, my lady. Brent Delamain, related to his lordship’s cousin by marriage, is in mortal danger. He is to be sent to London from Edinburgh to stand trial, and it is certain he will be sentenced to death.  The record against him is black.  He served in the Prince’s elite corps of Life Guards and he killed many of his own countrymen in battle. His cousin Stewart Allonby has been spared the extreme penalty and is sentenced to deportation; but there is little hope for Brent.’

‘But how can my husband help? He has no influence at court.’ Analee looked distressed.

‘
The
Falcon, ma’am? The bravest of soldiers, newly gazetted general? Surely well favoured by the King?’

‘Or is it that he would not
want
to help?’ Mary moved over to Analee who impulsively grasped her hand.

‘Oh, Mary, worry not that Angus knows anything about Brent and myself. That is a secret and forever will be. No, it is simply that his lordship has no time for the rebels, I fear. He says they put the country to a lot of trouble and suffering. He remembers well the gypsy camp ...’

‘But that was not Brent!’

‘Of course it was not. He knows in his heart that there were many fine and upright men on the Jacobite side, though you would not think it to hear him talk. But my lord is,’ Analee inclined her head as though searching for the right word, ‘he is not an
easy
man. He is personally a kind man and a wonderful husband; but ... stubborn.’

‘Not the Falcon for nothing,’ John Allonby murmured. ‘He has strong views on loyalty.’

‘It is a matter of ideals, Analee.’

‘I know, Mary, but Angus, for right or wrong, believes the Jacobites to be traitors to the rightful King of England. I know he will do nothing.’ She shrugged. ‘However, we can try. I will ask him. Unfortunately he has still not recovered from his serious wound which nearly killed him, and lies abed until nearly dinner time. But you will stay with us and see him then.’

Mary shook her head.

‘We must go at once. There is no time to lose. If only to say goodbye ...’

Mary leaned her head on Analee’s breast and gave herself up to a torrent of weeping. ‘Oh, Analee, and to know that he does not even love me. That he thinks only ...’

‘Shhh.’ Analee patted her shoulder looking at John who nodded and moved towards the door just as Nelly entered with Analee’s shoes and hose.

‘My lady ...’

‘Take Mr Allonby into the garden, Nelly. He wishes to take some air.’

Left alone Analee took Mary to the sofa and sat beside her.

‘There, my dear, cry to your heart’s content. How unhappy I am that Brent has behaved to you as he has; it spoils my own happiness. But if he could see, if he could know how happy his lordship has made me!’ She put a hand on her stomach, ‘and we are to have a child, Mary, to solder our love. I am nearly five months gone.’

Analee saw the expression on Mary’s face and smiled.

‘Are you shocked little one? We have been married only two months I know. But his lordship and I were always meant for each other; there was never any question ...’

Mary looked at the gypsy, now no longer a gypsy girl despite what she said. Analee had in some subtle way changed; she had the air and regality of a lady. With her customary sorcery Analee had already achieved the part. Why there she was, a real marchioness with one of the great lords of the land for a husband. Yet it seemed perfectly natural for her. It was not only the way Analee looked – it was her bearing and the way she held herself; a dignity as though she had been somehow born to it.

‘If Brent lives, Analee, can you use your powers to free him from your spell?
Can
you?’

‘Mary I have told you I have no extraordinary powers. I am no
cohani,
no witch. But, yes, if Brent lives I will do what I can. Why ... here is my lord.’

The door opened and the Falcon came slowly in, his eyes searching.

‘Ah, Analee, they told me you were here. My dear ...’ his gaze fell upon Mary and he stopped.

‘My lord, Angus, this is Mary Delamain who was so kind to me when I was snowbound.’

The Marquess walked over to Mary and bowed over her hand. ‘You are very welcome, ma’am, and thank you for your hospitality to my wife. How long will you stop here?’

Analee got up and took her lord’s arm.

‘Angus, Mary is the wife of
Brent
Delamain your distant cousin by marriage.’

‘Ah,’ his lordship cried, understanding dawning. ‘That will be why she is here. I understand he is on the list for trial in London and almost certain to be condemned. His is one of the names of those thought most culpable.’

‘You knew it, my lord?’

‘Aye.  I heard it yesterday from Colonel Worth who stopped here on his way back to London.  He knew we were very distantly related.’

‘Oh Angus, cannot you do something for your cousin!’

His lordship thumped the floor with his stick.

‘No I cannot and pray do not ask me. You know how I feel about the rebels. There is nothing I can do anyway. His Majesty is determined to punish them and stamp them out by his example. I know it.’

The Falcon shook his head and moved to the window. Analee could see from his stormy gaze that he was angry; that brooding Falcon stare that had struck terror into the hearts of so many, friend and foe. But now it was never directed at her; the only expression she ever saw on the face of her husband was one of love and tenderness. She went over to him and leaned her head against his arm stroking his sleeve. The Marquess fidgeted with his stick and tried to move away.

‘Analee, pray do not. It is no use ...’

‘My lord, Angus, did you never have anything you felt very passionately about?’

‘Only you,’ he whispered so that Mary could not hear.

‘Very well. You defied society to marry me. But only supposing it had been against the law? Would you have done it then?’

‘You know it. I would have defied everyone and everything to have you as my wife.’

‘Then think how Brent Delamain and those like him felt. They are zealots. They are not criminals.’

Reluctantly Lord Falconer, who was still tantalized by the proximity of his wife even though he knew her so well, freed his arm.

‘My dear Analee ... even if I wanted to I can do nothing. I am powerless. There!’

‘Can we not contrive to
rescue
Brent before he is sent,’ Analee said quietly. ‘There must be a way. Even Lord Nithsdale escaped from the Tower of London itself after the ‘15 Rebellion. It is a famous tale. Can it not be done from Edinburgh Castle?’

‘No it cannot!’ his lordship thundered. ‘You want me to lose my title? Forfeit my commission in His Majesty’s regiment? We are undone, Analee, if we so much as lift a finger to help these traitors! I will not risk my life, my inheritance, the inheritance of our child, for something in which I do not believe.
You
I do believe in, but the Stuarts no!’

There was a silence only broken occasionally by the sound of Mary weeping. Analee gazed stormily at her husband.

‘When you are married, my lord, do you not take on obligations owed by your spouse?’

‘You have obligations to Brent Delamain?’ his lordship said incredulously.

In Analee’s mind there flashed the thought of a moonlit scene; a handsome blond god – a beautiful baby girl. She found she was trembling, but she tried to hide her emotion. Much as she knew Angus loved her he was not ready now to hear about Morella, if he ever would be which she somehow doubted. He was too jealous, too single-minded to countenance hearing about her relationship with Brent, to know about their child. It would not make him want to help Brent; he would probably volunteer to hang him with his own hands. Her lord was much too savage for magnanimity at this stage in their relationship, which was still so dependent on physical passion. No, she would not tell her husband the truth. Even Mary did not know the whole truth.

‘I have obligations only  to the family of Allonby. They were very kind to me and Nelly and offered us shelter when we needed it on two occasions. I would like to do a favour for Mary, more particularly than Brent. As you love me, sir, so does she love her husband and would have him by her side.’

‘But they would be exiles, outlaws ...’

‘No matter,’ Analee said firmly, ‘they would be alive and together. For
me,
my lord, won’t you help?’

For answer his lordship shook his head angrily and stumped out of the room.

Mary turned her ashen, tear-stained face to Analee who, she was surprised to see, was smiling.

‘I think he will do something,’ Lady Falconer said. ‘I know my lord.’

‘If my name is ever brought into this plan,’ his lordship said over dinner when the room was cleared of servants, ‘I and future generations of my family will curse the name of Delamain ... and Allonby,’ he added scowling fiercely. ‘I am doing this solely for my wife, whom I adore.  It is much against my better judgement. It is a token of my love for her; she has asked it and I will do it. I know she will not be ungrateful and will show me so in many ways; thus, my motives are not altogether without self-interest ...’ Lord Falconer paused and looked meaningfully at his wife who bent her head and suppressed a smile, her eyes shining. ‘We shall vigorously deny any connection with the plan to free Brent Delamain and say our name was used basely because of my relationship to the family. ‘Tis all I have to say. D’ye hear?’

John Allonby was gazing with open admiration at the man he had hated; the Falcon. Not only had a committed Hanoverian and a member of the government army to boot consented to help free his cousin, but the plan was so simple it was perfect.

‘You are a born strategist, my lord,’ John said respectfully.

‘Aye,’ his lordship replied modestly. ‘I have that reputation, which is why I am today a General in His Majesty’s regiment. You see then why my name must never become associated with this, even though you are put to the rack ...’

‘Never sir.  I swear,’ John got up and bowed to his host.

‘And you
may
be racked, Mr Allonby, or worse. You will be the one left behind in your cousin’s place. Maybe they will take your head instead of his.’

‘They are welcome to it, sir, if they so decide,’ John said slowly. ‘Do not think it has not occurred to me ...’

‘Oh no, John ...’ Mary, who had been so happy as the plan was revealed, looked aghast.

‘Yes, Mary, I have done no wrong that they know: I have not fought with the Prince; but ... I shall have contrived to help a traitor escape. However, my love, do not grieve if it is so. I shall die cheerful. I am a single man and you and Brent have all life and all the happiness in the world before you. I am half dead since Charlotte died, anyway. Furness Grange may be sequestrated and sold ... but you will be free, starting a new life, maybe overseas in the Indies or Africa.’