The Romany Heiress (7 page)

August 20, 1787

To alleviate the boredom of my life in the country,
I have let the gypsy’s camp on the corner of
Spelthorne Abbey. I took my maid and walked to
their camp today for something to do. I saw the
fortuneteller, a handsome, determined sort of
woman named Magda, who I judged to be in her
late twenties. She also acts as a healer for the caravan, and has an interesting knowledge of herbs.
Her knowledge of herbs was far better than her
fortunetelling ability, for she predicted that my
child would be a daughter.

August 21, 1787

I received devastating news from Spelthorne today.
Parliament has closed, and he is off to a friend’s
country house. He tells me to send word of his
child’s birth to this address. If it is a male heir he
will return home to celebrate. If not, he will return
home after grouse hunting, and we can try again. I
am devastated and angry. I had so hoped a child
would be the answer to our flagging marriage, but
now I despair of anything short of a son repairing
a marriage that was broken from the start. I see
now that he desired a traditional society marriage, despite the intensity of his courtship so
many years ago.

I cannot shake the gypsy’s fortune, and I doubt
my earlier belief that a child will be a son although no other option can be considered. I will
not doom a daughter of mine to the empty existence that has become my life as a countess.
Spelthorne would shun a daughter. She would be
ignored as I am.

August 30, 1787

Doctor Tallbridge assures me there is not much
longer to wait for the arrival of the child. Indeed, I
spent most of the day lying down and suffering
pains although the doctor noted there was no
progress towards being delivered. There was, however, blood, and I thought Doctor Tallbridge was
more concerned than he let on.

September 16, 1787

I have taken a turn for the worse. I cannot get out
of bed, and the bleeding continues. Doctor Tallbridge can do nothing until true labor begins. I
called earlier today for the gypsy, Magda, in the
hopes that she has knowledge of an herb that can
safely stimulate the birth of the child. She came
and listened to my belly and put her hands on it.
She said the baby must be born soon. The child is
in distress. She has herbs to give me although they
carry some risk of their own. But I am desperate
to birth this child and be done with pregnancy.

“Did you find those letters yet, Giles?” Tristan called,
setting down the book.

“Not yet. Keep reading.” Giles said in muffled tones
from behind the desk.

“It’s Alain’s turn. I have to say all this feminine writing about birthing makes me uneasy. I feel quite intrusive reading about it,” Tristan complained.

Alain gave a bark of laughter. “I didn’t think you
were squeamish about anything, Tristan. Alright, where
did we leave off? Oh yes, the herbs”

There was an extended silence. Giles stood up. “Alain,
you’re supposed to read out loud.”

Alain’s voice was soft and shocked when he spoke.
“I know. There’s nothing written again until September
24th.” Alain gulped hard. “I don’t know if I can read
this out loud.” He held the book out to Giles, his eyes
filled with a kind of horror. “Please, take it.”

Giles went to him and gingerly took the battered red
book. He settled into his chair, not missing the worried
glances that passed between Tristan and Alain. He
steeled himself as best he could. After all, he knew what
was most likely written in the next entry. Irma had told
him as much earlier. He knew what had to be there if
Irma had any support for her outrageous claim. Despite
his efforts to neutralize his reaction, Giles scanned the
first few lines and knew he could not read the entry out
loud either.

He read deliberately, taking in each word and imprinting it in his mind in the hopes that reading this
story would not be necessary again. Afterward, he
closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, seeking some sort of clarity but none came. The terrible
litany of it’s true, it’s true. Everything Irma said was
true ran mercilessly through his head. Oh God, what
was he going to do?

“It’s all true,” Giles said at last, breaking the uncomfortable silence that blanketed the room. “Everything
she said is right there in the diary.” It was a terrible
truth too-the lengths to which one woman had gone to
win the affections of a husband incapable of giving
them. The story served as a strong moral in regards to
allowing oneself to be swept away on the tides of passion. “It’s all there. There was a daughter sent to the
gypsies and replaced by a cottager’s illegitimate son.”

“Of course the diary collaborates her story,” Tristan
interjected swiftly. “She would not have shown it to you otherwise. That doesn’t prove the diary is authentic.
For all we know, she made the story up and hired someone to write it down. Truly, Giles, the story proves less
than you think. It would have made no sense for her to
show you a diary that didn’t collaborate her tale.”

Giles nodded, grateful for the devious twists and
turns of Tristan’s mind. Tristan’s thoughts did ease the
knot of fear residing in his chest. “It is difficult to believe someone would go to such lengths to undermine
another’s life,” Giles said.

“Believe it. When there’s money involved, people
will do almost anything,” Tristan said grimly. “After
seven years of espionage work for the crown, I believe
people are capable of anything, no matter how inhumane or how improbable.”

“There is still the consideration of the letters,” Alain
spoke up. “Did you find any handwriting samples?”

“Yes, they’re on the desk” Giles rose to get the pile
he left behind when Alain had asked him to read the
fateful diary entry. “I rather wish I hadn’t found them.”
He passed the packet to Alain who slipped the first one
out of its envelope and opened it.

Alain laid the letter next to a randomly selected diary
entry and grimaced. “I had hoped the handwriting
would be vastly different.”

Giles picked the letter up and scanned the contents.
“The writing style is the same as well, very succinct,
very direct and to the point. My mother was not one to
waste words.”

“More to the point,” Tristan drawled, long legs spread
out in front of him. “Was she actually capable of what
Irina claims?”

Giles met Alain’s eyes, a wealth of childhood memories passing in that single glance. Tristan had not met
them until they had gone to Eton but Giles and Alain
had grown up together on neighboring summer estates
in the Lake District. The threesome might have known
each other for over fifteen years, but Alain and Giles
had known each other over twenty.

“I forget, Tristan, that you did not know my parents.
In the years I knew my mother, I would have to say yes.
Her entire focus was my father. She alternated from being desperate for his favor and being furious at him for
withholding it. She craved his affection. I have long
thought it was his behavior toward her that drove her insane in the end” Another reason why love was so
bloody dangerous. Unrequited love had no recourse.

Giles tinkered with the lid of an expensive, inlaid trifle box that sat on a table next to his chair. “She had a
boating accident on the lake the summer before we met
at school” He neglected to say she’d gone out on the
lake during a late summer storm and had no business
trying to man the oars herself. But she’d been angry
with his father yet again over some imagined or real
slight. It had been hard to tell the difference in those
last days when her sanity had been in question.

Giles passed a hand over his mouth as if he feared
what might come out of it if he kept talking. “I think I’d
like to be alone” He said quietly.

“No.” Tristan said firmly, surprising Giles with the
force of his refusal. Tristan rose and began to pace. “If
we leave you alone, you will sit here and be maudlin.
You’re giving up far too easily, and that is exactly what
this woman hopes for. At best, she has found a chink in
your family armor-the estrangement between your
mother and father-and she has extrapolated it into a
fantastical fairy tale. You’re not even trying to fight”

“Tristan, you don’t understand. We have to be very
careful to avoid a scandal. This must be handled delicately,” Giles protested.

“Oh yes, we’ll be discreet,” Tristan said, stopping at
the window to stroke his chin and study the lightening
landscape. “We’ll call her down here as soon as it’s light.
We’ll tell her she can take us to court which of course
she can’t afford to do, and even if she could the system is
so backlogged it will take years to get a hearing. If we
stick to our position, she’ll have to back down. She
hasn’t the wherewithal to see us in court. Then, Giles,
you’ll write her a nice check and send her on her way”

“She won’t take money. Remember, I already tried
that?”

“She didn’t take it because she thought she had a
bigger fish to land. Once she realizes she cannot possibly win, she’ll be happy enough to take your check”

“What if she’s telling the truth?” Giles asked. “I
can’t send her away knowing that I’ve wronged her. My
God, do you realize the enormity of the truth? Of what
she’s been denied?”

Tristan rounded on Giles, anger evident in the depths of his brown eyes. “I do realize the enormity of this ! I
am trying to find a way to protect Spelthorne and all
you’ve worked for from a fortune hunter. What does
she know about running an estate? She will ruin your
entire life’s ambition within three years, if not sooner.
You can’t doom your tenants to that. They adore you”

Tristan lowered his voice, some of his frustration gone.
“I am trying to protect you as well. You are Spelthorne.
You’ve worked your whole life to be the earl, and I am
not going to step aside and let your damnable honor get
the best of you, not when you’re the best earl I’ve ever
met. I’ve yet to meet someone who cares for his land with
the devotion you show”

“Thank you,” Giles said quietly, overwhelmed by the
sentiments Tristan voiced. Tristan had never spoken to
him in such a manner before, and to know that one’s
friends cared so deeply for him nearly undid him.

“We don’t have to acknowledge her claim. We can
squelch it right now and have her gone by breakfast”
Tristan said again, his gaze returning to the window.

“I cannot live a life made out of a wrong done to another. There is enough truth in the diary, the handwriting, the birth certificate, to need further clarification. If
nothing else, further clarification will strengthen our
case and weaken hers” Giles stood his ground firmly.

“And if further probing reveals her claim to have
merit?” Tristan asked.

“Then we’ll make those decisions at that time. I hope
it will not come to that,” Giles said calmly. Now that the initial shock was over, he could begin planning the
next step and that made him feel immeasurably better.

He saw the tic in Tristan’s cheek jump in silent disapproval, but to his credit Tristan said nothing, merely
stared out the window with his arms crossed, his gaze
hard.

“What shall we do now?” Alain asked.

“We shall send for the vicar. He is up north outside
of York. It will take a while for him to be found and to
make the trip. In the meanwhile, Irina will be our guest.
We’ll pass her off as a distant relation. We’ll take her to
the horse fair with us so I can keep an eye on her until
the house party is over. I don’t want her running loose
in the house and raising eyebrows. It would be best to
introduce her quietly and upfront so no one thinks
we’re hiding anything.”

Alain nodded his support. “With that settled, I shall
catch a bit of sleep and see you in the main hall at ten for
the fair. Cecile is looking forward to the outing.” He
pressed a hand on Giles’s shoulder in support as he
walked past him to the door. “We’ll get through this, you
know, all of us together just like we’ve gotten through
everything else”

Giles smiled for the first time since finding Irina in
his bedroom. “I know. Thank you” It hadn’t been that
long ago they’d rallied to Alain’s support when he
thought he’d lost Cecile in the political turmoil of postNapoleon France. Nor had it been more than a handful
years when they’d held baited breaths around Tristan’s sickbed after he’d been shot by a rogue agent. The
wound had nearly proved fatal.

Alain cocked his head in Tristan’s direction. “He’ll
come around. He’s just more protective of our circle
than we realize.”

The door shut behind Alain, leaving Tristan with
Giles. “I’m sorry Chatham isn’t here,” Tristan said suddenly, referring to the long-absent fourth member of
their circle.

Giles tidied up the desk, shuffling papers he’d taken
out of the safe. Chatham’s desertion was still a great mystery even to him who was perhaps closest to Chatham.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he was in America. He’d been
talking about that when we were all together for AlainAlexander’s christening. But that seems ages ago,” he
said with a lightness he didn’t feel.

Tristan said nothing, only nodded. “I would offer to
send for him but I don’t know where to look. If I
thought anyone at Whitehall knew where he
was.. Tristan broke off and shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s alright. The three of us are enough. It’s probably
just as you said, nothing more than a poor attempt to
exploit a weak link in the family.” Giles forced a smile.
“I am off to freshen up so my guests don’t suspect I
spent the night poorly” He paused a moment, debating
how to say what he had to. “Tristan, I would like to ask
you not to tell Isabella. Not yet”

Tristan looked dubious. “She’s bound to ask what we
were doing all night. I can hardly tell her we were playing
cards. You know she will be discreet. Is there a reason to hide any of this from her? She’s stood your friend for
years just as the rest of us have.”