A Sister's Secret (47 page)

‘I’ve papers with details, the details drawn up by Erzburger and authenticated,’ said Cumberland.

‘Papers? Authenticated?’ said Kent, destined to be the father of Victoria. ‘Authenticating what, precisely?’

‘We’ve arrived at a point meriting the most serious consideration,’ said Cumberland, sound eye fixing Wales in mesmerizing fashion. ‘Lady Clarence Percival’s own family, the Howards, can trace their tree back to William of Orange, and Erzburger has done so.’

‘’Pon my pitiful soul,’ said Wales, ‘ye’ll be informing us next that Lady Clarence is the rightful Queen of England.’

Cumberland picked up a sheaf of papers from a table and took them to the window. Inside a flood of bright light, he leafed through the papers, his blind, cloudy eye blank, his seeing eye very searching.

‘The papers don’t seem to be among these,’ he said. ‘But ye have my word, they exist and the details exist. So I require from all of ye serious consideration of a situation which ain’t now unfavourable to a rejection of the proposed alliance.’

‘The papers,’ said York impatiently.

‘I fancy they’re in my study,’ said Cumberland. ‘In a moment or so, I’ll fetch them.’

‘God in heaven,’ said Clarence, wondering if his sardonic brother had a touch of the mental weakness that periodically afflicted their father, ‘ye’re expecting us to consider how ye might marry Percival’s American widow?’

‘And why not?’ said Cumberland, dark and lowering.

‘I ain’t considering a damned thing until ye’ve produced those papers, Ernest,’ said Kent mutinously.

‘I will,’ said Cumberland, ‘but first give me a few moments to suggest to ye how I might put my case to our tetchy Majesty, who ain’t always able to make an agreeable listener.’ He mused. He was at the window again. His brothers fidgeted, Wales in irritable fashion, but Cumberland began to describe how Lady Clarence
Percival compared advantageously with the German duchess. She was endowed with wealth, health and beauty, and with a lineage that could not be discounted.

‘Orange lineage,’ said Wales disdainfully. ‘It’s a dull thing, and originated in a medieval French farmyard.’

Cumberland removed his gaze from the window to turn a black scowl on his eldest brother, and Wales slumped and muttered. Cumberland was an Orange adherent, a powerful figure in the Order that inspired and dominated the lives of Ulstermen, who sternly kept at bay the popery of the Catholic Irish.

He continued to outline the pros and cons, but it was a pointless exercise if he really was expecting four men to arrive in the guise of building labourers. His every glance could draw only a blank. He grew darker; his eye glittered. He could not fetch papers, for there were no papers, not of the kind he had mentioned. There did not need to be under certain assumed circumstances. He had established the pretext of going to his study to fetch them, but by the time he returned the Irish bombs would have done their work. Irish bombs were always lethal.

The useless conference was brought to an abrupt end by the refusal of his brothers to prolong further a meeting that had no sense to it, and Cumberland was seen to be in a dark mood for the rest of the day. Erzburger had a problem concerning Mr Joseph Maguire. He might have thought the best way to deal with a man who may have laid a trap for His Highness was to hand him over to Irish papists as an informer.

Then there was the hireling who had Maguire under surveillance.

Whatever steps were decided on and by whom, the fact remained that a capable-looking man arrived at the lodgings of the hireling. Finding him not at home, he
crossed the street and went up to Maguire’s modest abode. His knock on the door was answered by a British Army sergeant, whose comrade, a corporal, stepped smartly out and cut off the visitor’s retreat. They took him into custody, but neither they nor any other representatives of His Majesty’s government secured a jot of information from him. He kept his mouth tightly shut throughout. He was sentenced to be transported, along with the lookout and the four papist conspirators. And Captain Burnside had the satisfaction of knowing the interests of the loyal Mr Maguire were well looked after. It did not, however, make him feel any better about the abrupt and uncompromising termination of what he considered was his precious relationship with the equally precious Lady Caroline.

‘So,’ said the Duke of Avonhurst later that day, ‘Cumberland endured a negative afternoon. With bad grace, I’ll warrant.’

‘We shall probably never know the extent of his implication. Even so, I fancy he ain’t enjoyed the best week of his life.’ Captain Burnside looked as if his own week had not been the happiest. Nor was His Grace in his best mood. The captain knew him for a perfectionist, a demanding one, but he was always fair. Something was gnawing at him now. ‘He discovered Lady Russell’s billet-doux was missing. I gathered from Betsy that his household staff were made to run the gauntlet of an abrasive interrogation. Some were dismissed on the spot, including Betsy. I’ve found lodgings for her until she gets another position.’

‘Have you formed an attachment for that wench?’ asked His Grace disparagingly. ‘Ain’t it time, sir, you gave thought to the honourable estate of marriage, and with
a lady of grace, a lady somewhat of an improvement on a flirtatious wench?’

‘I ain’t immune to the prospect,’ said Captain Burnside, ‘but as to Betsy, I simply ain’t too keen on seeing a girl like her thrown on to the streets. Her nature’s far too friendly.’

Avonhurst frowned. ‘Concerning Lady Caroline,’ he said, and Captain Burnside’s grimace did not escape him, ‘I have to tell you that she called on me this morning, and such were the circumstances that I was compelled to confess to her.’

‘Oh, my God,’ said the captain.

‘You need His help,’ said His Grace, ‘as I do myself.’

‘I must go and see her.’

‘I don’t advise it. She’ll have her servants horsewhip you, and she won’t receive you, nor give you a salve for your scourged back.’

‘I’ll risk the horsewhip,’ said the captain, set of face.

‘I has to inform you, sir, that Her Ladyship is not at home,’ said Thomas, standing squarely at the open door.

‘Do you mean she is out?’ asked Captain Burnside.

‘I mean, sir,’ said Thomas regretfully, for he liked the captain, ‘that she is not at home.’

‘She won’t see me, is that it?’

‘Her Ladyship is not at home,’ said Thomas.

‘I see. Then would you ask Miss Annabelle to receive me?’

‘Miss Annabelle Howard, sir, is not at home.’

‘Damn me, Thomas, do you want me to black your eye?’

‘No, sir. Not as it’ll do you any good. Miss Annabelle is at Lady Repton’s evening reception. Being it’s my duty, I’ll now close the door.’

‘Do so,’ said the captain, ‘then kindly carry a message to Lady Caroline, advising her that if her door stays closed to me I’ll break it down.’

‘Ah, has I heard you correct, sir?’ asked Thomas.

‘You have.’

‘Very good, sir,’ said Thomas, and closed the door. He carried the message upstairs to Helene, passing over the
fact that Lady Caroline was pecking at her supper in the dining room.

Helene, about to go down to join the servants at supper in their hall, received the message in startlement. ‘He is not serious, Thomas?’

‘Well,’ said Thomas, ‘I didn’t like the look in his eye, I tell you that.’

‘Oh, poor Captain Burnside,’ said Helene. ‘At the first blow on the door, Lady Caroline will have him arrested. She’ll send Sammy for the Bow Street Runners. I had better go down and talk to him.’

Captain Burnside looked at her as she opened the door. ‘I hope you bring reasonable news,’ he said.

‘Sir, I hope myself you will be reasonable and go away,’ said Helene.

‘Yours is a vain hope, Helene, for at the moment I ain’t a reasonable man.’

‘I regret that won’t help,’ said Helene. ‘Lady Caroline will not see you under any circumstances, whether you are reasonable or not. Nor am I sure if it would profit you if she did see you. She is making plans to return to America.’

‘Oh, ye gods,’ said Captain Burnside. ‘Well, tell her to unmake them.’

‘Captain Burnside,’ said Helene gently, ‘it will be more than my life is worth even to tell her I’ve been talking to you.’

‘Oh, the devil,’ he said, ‘is she so out of sorts?’

Helene looked quite sadly at him. She had hoped Her Ladyship would find enough integrity and character in Captain Burnside to marry him. ‘Sir, what have you done to her?’ she asked quietly. ‘She is more than out of sorts, far more. She is suffering. She endured her bad days with – oh, I should not say so, but Lord Clarence caused
her much unhappiness. She bore it all with pride. What have you done to her to make her say she wishes she were dead?’

‘Let me see her,’ said Captain Burnside.

‘I beg you won’t force yourself on her,’ said Helene. She hesitated, then whispered, ‘I am breaking a confidence, which I never have before, but tomorrow she is going to Great Wivenden, to spend her time there until she sails for America. I can speak no more with you now.’ And Helene closed the door.

Caroline saw him. She saw him from the window of her bedroom in the manor house. The August day was glorious, laying gold on the wheatfields and brightly defining his figure as he rode up the long sandy drive to the forecourt of the house. His demeanour seemed thoughtful, his back slightly bent, eyes downcast, and his horse was only ambling. It was a slow, deliberate ride to the great front doors of her country residence.

The freezing sensations returned to her body. She watched him, hating him, and she felt disgust that he should have come here, to the place she loved most. In such a place, he was an obscenity. She turned and pulled on the bell cord.

Helene came in. ‘Milady?’

‘That man is here.’

‘Your pardon?’ said Helene, although she guessed.

‘Captain Burnside. I am out, do you hear? I have gone to Brighton.’

‘He will ask—’

‘Do as I say. Tell him. Answer no questions.’ Caroline was pale, shadows around her eyes. Whenever she was able to sleep, it was only fitfully, and for the last few hours, exhaustedly. ‘Send him away.’

The front door bell sprang its peal.

Helene hurried down, intercepting Mr Frederick Jarvis, the head servant of the household. ‘I will answer it, Mr Jarvis, I know who it is,’ she said.

It was Helene whom Captain Burnside saw again when one of the double doors opened. He seemed calm but determined. He raised his beaver hat to her. ‘Good afternoon,’ he said. ‘I wish to see Lady Clarence Percival.’

‘I am so sorry,’ said Helene, making an effort to look him in the eye, ‘but Her Ladyship is in Brighton.’

‘No, she ain’t.’

‘Captain Burnside—’

‘It won’t do,’ he said. ‘Be so kind as to advise her that I’m here, and that I ain’t going to depart until I’ve seen her. Further advise her that if she don’t give me a chance to talk to her, she ain’t as sweet-natured as I thought she was. Nor is she fair.’

‘Oh, Captain Burnside,’ gasped Helene, ‘I can’t tell her that. She
is
sweet-natured, and fair …’

‘She ain’t. Not if she won’t allow me a hearing. Advise her so.’

‘Sir, I simply cannot. And she’s in Brighton.’

‘Oh, you insist, do you, Helene?’ Captain Burnside was grim. Helene quivered, certain he was in a mood to sweep her aside and force his way into the presence of Her Ladyship. ‘Very well. Where in Brighton?’

‘I really don’t know,’ said Helene, a little desperate.

‘Quite so. Why should you know? Why should anyone know? She ain’t in Brighton. She’s here.’

‘Captain Burnside, you must go about things in your own way, but I cannot let you in, and beg you won’t have me side with you against Her Ladyship, only tell you that I wish you well, which I truly do.’

‘Then at least acquaint Her Ladyship with the fact that
I ain’t going to depart until she sees me. Also tell her she ain’t going back to America except over my dead body.’

‘Oh,’ said Helene. The faintest smile came. ‘You love her.’

‘Of course I love her,’ said Captain Burnside. ‘Who couldn’t? But if it comes to putting her over my knees, damned if I won’t do it.’

‘Oh, dear Lord,’ gasped Helene, and hastily closed the door. Captain Burnside, his horse tethered, sat down on the step.

‘Your Ladyship?’ Helene was tentative.

‘Well?’ Caroline, at her window again, swung round, eyes glittering.

‘He—’

‘He hasn’t gone,’ said Caroline, ‘for I haven’t seen him ride away.’

‘I beg Your Ladyship’s forbearance, but he was so determined.’

‘Really?’ Lady Caroline was icy. ‘His determination does not match mine. Did you not tell him I was in Brighton?’

‘Indeed, yes, I did. Twice.’ Helene took the plunge. ‘I am afraid he did not believe me.’

‘That would be amusing if it weren’t so wretched. How dare a man like that give the lie to anyone?’

‘Milady, what has he done?’ asked Helene bravely.

‘What does that matter? It is enough for you to know him an utterly worthless creature. When Mr Forbes returns to his office, ask him to come and see me. If you are unable to persuade Captain Burnside to go away, I shall ask Mr Forbes to intercede.’

‘Your Ladyship,’ said Helene, brave again, ‘Captain Burnside asked me to advise you he won’t depart until you consent to see him.’

‘Oh, I declare myself ravaged and racked by his importunities!’ Caroline was fierce, tearing herself apart in her bitterness. ‘Let us discover just how importunate he will be when Mr Forbes and the gardeners have locked him in the stocks.’

‘Oh, Lady Caroline, no, you cannot!’ gasped Helene. ‘Not Captain Burnside.’

Caroline’s glittering eyes transfixed her. ‘Well,’ she breathed, ‘is this what it has come to? You, whom I trust more than any other, are making sheep’s eyes at Captain Burnside like an infatuated wench or a covetous trollop?’

‘Your Ladyship,’ said Helene quietly, ‘you know that is not true.’

Caroline shivered. ‘Oh, I am sorry, Helene. Forgive me. But I won’t see Captain Burnside, ever. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ said Helene. But her next words were forced from her because of Captain Burnside. ‘He said if you won’t give him the chance to talk to you, you – you aren’t as sweet-natured and as fair as he thought you were.’