Fenella J. Miller (11 page)

Chapter Ten

Cassie tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, she was determined Amanda should not have her happiness ruined until it was absolutely necessary. The little girl was so overjoyed at the thought of having a new mama. She prayed that Jonathan could give her the answer she needed in order that their union could go ahead as planned.

Two day dresses arrived the morning that Jonathan was expected home. Cassie was in her sitting room when the parcel was brought up to her by a footman. Ann and Amanda were sitting with her, having just returned from their morning constitutional.

Amanda was the only one excited by the smart box and layers of tissue. ‘Shall I lift a gown out for you, Mama? ‘

Cassie flinched, but she hadn’t the heart to reprimand the child for using that term prematurely. ‘Yes, darling, do so. You are more knowledgeable on the subject of new garments than either Miss Roberts or I.’

Inside were two beautiful gowns, plus all that was necessary to make a perfect ensemble.  These were sort of garments Cassie had always dreamed of owning. They might live in the middle of nowhere but Madame was an expert in her craft. In spite of her worry she was stirred as Amanda held up the first dress, made of a heavy woven cotton in palest gold. It had a high neck and was pleated over the bosom, and the whole finished with a dark gold sash. Cassie saw that the same dark gold ribbon edged the points of the long sleeves and was sewn around the hem. ‘I shall put this on immediately.’

Molly, hearing the excitement in the parlour had come through to see what all the fuss was about. ‘Oh, miss, what a lovely gown.’

 Cassie hurried into her bedchamber to change leaving the other two to rummage around in the box and remove the matching slippers, silk stockings (which were embroidered with little gold stars) and a gold cashmere shawl which would complete the outfit to perfection.

Amanda gathered the items up and ran to the bedroom door. She was about to burst in but remembered in time that she was supposed to knock. She waited until she was given leave to enter. ‘Here are your slippers, stockings and a lovely wrap in the softest of material.’

Cassie, who was standing in her undergarments, waved towards the bed. ‘Please put them on there, Amanda, and wait outside with Miss Roberts, I shall come in a moment to parade before you and receive your applause.’

When she appeared in her new finery she received the acclaim she expected. She twirled, sending the skirts spinning out in a cloud of gold around her feet. ‘Mama, you look like a princess. Papa will wonder who you are.’

Ann removed her charge to the schoolroom as soon as they heard the sound of carriage wheels crunching on the gravel at the front of the house. ‘I believe it’s your father coming home, we shall all meet again for afternoon tea. Come down to the drawing-room at four,’

Cassie prayed that this would take place as planned. If things went badly with Jonathan, then God knows where they would all be that afternoon. She couldn’t settle, but wandered around picking up and putting down the ornaments, one ear cocked for his arrival.

 She had decided to confront him in the privacy of her own rooms, she did not wish the ever vigilant servants to hear what was said between them.

 * * * *

 Fifteen minutes after his arrival Jonathan was in his chambers hastily changing from his travel stained garments. Although he’d travelled in a closed carriage, he’d had to get out and push when they had become stuck in a deep rut and he was mired to his knees. All the way home his heart had been rejoicing at his good fortune.

 He intended to tell his future wife the sad story of his first marriage, but not today, he didn’t want to spoil his homecoming. In the few days he’d been away he’d had time to reflect on the seven miserable years he had been married to Lydia. He had married her in good faith, captivated by her dark hair, beautiful green eyes, and lively personality. He had imagined himself neck over crop in love with her, and even when she seemed reluctant to accept his advances, he hadn’t taken no for an answer.

He had assumed it was maidenly modesty, and when her parents had assured him their daughter was delighted with his attentions he decided to make her an offer. When he had declared himself, she had accepted him prettily, and three months after they were betrothed they had been married.

From the beginning it had been a disaster, he had done his best to initiate her gently into the marriage bed, indeed had waited several days before consummating the union. But she had not enjoyed his lovemaking, turned away in tears each time, until he had ceased to visit, mystified by her attitude, and heartbroken that his marriage appeared to be over before it had begun. He started travelling away from home for weeks at a time, finding it too hard to be with the woman he loved and not be able to make love to her.

When his daughter had been born he had been overjoyed and he didn’t care that his lovely child looked like neither of them, she more than made up for the lack of affection he got from his wife. Lydia insisted on going to London for the season each year, sometimes he accompanied her for a few weeks, but found the constant bowing and scraping, the overheated rooms, the smell of over perfumed unwashed humanity, too much for his country soul.

He had a fine townhouse, was happy to leave his wife to enjoy herself for when she returned at the end of the season each year she was always more relaxed, happy, and for a while she would receive him in her bedroom, if not with willingness, then with some degree of enjoyment.

 When Amanda was six things changed. Lydia had come back early from her visit to town, her face pale, and had immediately made it plain that he would be welcome in her bedroom. By this time his love had drained away and he refused her offer. Unless she became his wife in every sense she could remain celibate as he did. Instead of accommodating her wishes he had gone away on business, not returning for several weeks.

His knuckles whitened as he remembered what he had discovered on his return. He had gone to his wife’s chambers, deciding to try one last time, for Amanda’s sake, at a reconciliation. He had entered unannounced, as was his right, and found her in a negligee, the windows were wide open blowing the flimsy material close about her naked body. Even to someone as untutored in such matters as he, he could see at once that she was with child.

He pushed the memories of that horrible day away to the back of his mind, to be resurrected at a more suitable time. Now he would visit his beloved Cassie, and shower her with the gifts he’d bought her. He hadn’t gone to Norwich on business at all, he’d gone to buy her a betrothal ring and some other jewellery appropriate to her station.

He turned to his valet. ‘Samuel, is Miss Forsythe downstairs or in her private apartment?

‘I believe that she’s in her rooms, sir.’

Jonathan gathered together his parcels and, his eyes alight with love, his mouth curving in a smile he headed for her chambers.

 * * * *

Cassie turned at the knock and bade him enter. He came in, the love on his face almost made her change her mind. He came forward arms outstretched expecting her to run into them. Somehow she held herself immobile, and instead of a kiss from her she held out the letter.

‘What is this, my dear? Is something wrong? You seem… well you don’t seem like yourself today.’

She couldn’t speak, unshed tears were clogging her throat, she pushed the paper into his hand and turned her back to stand, facing out across the park, she noticed it was beginning to sleet and the wind was moaning around the eaves.

She heard him opening the letter. There was complete silence and she knew he must be reading. Then she heard him fold the letter and waited for his comment.

‘Why have you given me this?’ His question was spoken softly, but she detected an edge of steel in his voice.

 She spun, her eyes huge. ‘Why do you think? I want you to explain what happened on the day your wife died. I cannot marry you until I know the truth.’

 His eyes narrowed and he drew himself to his full, formidable height. When he spoke his eyes were hard, his voice icy. ‘I thought better of you, Miss Forsythe. I have no intention of answering or explaining anything to you. You obviously do not trust me. Our liaison is at an end. I expect you to leave my home this afternoon.’ He said no more, but turned and strode out leaving her bereft.

Her knees buckled and she collapsed on to the window seat. Whatever she had expected to happen, it had not been this. He had been so cold, as if he hated her. Why hadn’t he answered, told her what she wished to know? She sat there stunned for a few moments, unable to assimilate the disaster she had caused. He had told her to leave his house, but where could she go? It was already almost noon and sleeting heavily – she only had two decent garments to her name, and little money to support herself.

She rang the bell and Molly appeared. ‘What’s wrong, miss, you look as if you seen a ghost.’

‘Molly, fetch Miss Roberts to me immediately, Miss Amanda must stay in the schoolroom.’

She paced the room, unable to think coherently. Should she go and beg for his forgiveness, ask him…. well what could she ask him? By giving him the letter she’d accused him of having a hand in his wife’s untimely death. What had possessed her to something so stupid?

All she had to do was ask him, not pass him the letter in that melodramatic fashion. She had only herself to blame for his reaction. Whether he was guilty no longer mattered. She had mishandled the situation and must live with the consequences.

Ann came to her and on hearing what had transpired shook her head. ‘My dear, I told you not to confront him. Don’t look so worried, I shall come with you. Nanny can take care of Miss Amanda, after all she has been doing so quite successfully these past few months. I shall get Mary to pack my things, you get Molly to pack yours. I’m certain Mr Anderson will allow you to use his carriage, he’s not a monster, just a man whose heart you’ve broken into pieces.’

Cassie sat like a person in a trance; she didn’t know what to say to Amanda, so decided to say nothing. Instead she wrote a note telling her how much she loved her , apologizing for having to leave, and hoping that one day she would understand and forgive her.

 Two hours after her disastrous interview she was climbing into his carriage still dirty from his recent return from Norwich. She saw tears in the housekeeper’s eyes as she left, and Tom, who was driving the coach, seemed incapable of speech. She was unaware of the worsening weather, as the coach trundled away the tears she’d managed to hold back began to flow.

They were scarcely at the end of the drive before she was sobbing uncontrollably against Ann’s shoulder. Molly sat opposite, clucking and tutting, but unable to offer her any solace. The weather was so bad Ann ordered Tom to go change direction and head for The Black Sheep, not to Ipswich.

‘We shall wait outside, Tom, if you could kindly go in and see if they have rooms for us, for tonight or until the weather improves and we can continue our journey?’

The man nodded, his face sombre. ‘I’ll be happy to do that, Miss Roberts. A right bad show this is, I don’t like to speak ill of the master, but what is he thinking, sending you out into the cold like this?’

Somehow Cassie managed to control her misery, dry her eyes and with the deep brim of her bonnet disguising her distress, she hurried into the inn and upstairs to the rooms they had been allocated. They were adequate, no more than that, but better than being out in the sleet with no roof over her head at all.

She retired immediately to bed, leaving Ann to organise matters, arrange for their meals to be sent up. Her pillow was sodden when eventually she fell asleep, not knowing where she would be the following week, or what she would live on. Sir John was still her guardian, she still had no access to her inheritance, she had only a few pounds in savings, and knew that Ann had little more. This would keep them going for a few weeks, but after that they would be destitute unless one or both of them found suitable employment.

 * * * *

Jonathan repaired to his study and grabbed the brandy decanter filling his crystal glass to the brim. He downed it in one gulp, filling it a second time. Only after several glasses did his hurt become bearable. Even in death, Lydia had reached out to ruin his life. Why hadn’t he had her room cleared out? He’d not left it as a memorial to her, merely that he’d chosen to ignore her very existence in the hope that his fury would abate.

At first he had been determined to discover who Robert was and kill him. But his daughter was inconsolable at her mother’s death, and by the time she had recovered so had he. The man, whoever he was, must know of Lydia’s death and be suffering torments of his own. How could this have happened? Just when he thought he had happiness in his grasp it was snatched away again so cruelly. He reached out for the decanter and finding it empty hurled it in a drunken fury into the fire. The resulting explosion of glass and alcohol brought the butler running to the study.

Foster burst in, not stopping to knock. ‘Can I be of assistance, sir?’

Jonathan stared at the shards of glass sticking into his boots and scattered over the fireplace and nodded. ‘I need another decanter of brandy, now. And send someone in to clear up this mess.’

He continued to drink until oblivion claimed him. He slept, slumped in his chair, and didn’t wake up until his valet came in late the following morning. He sat up, his head hurt like the very devil, how much had he drunk for God’s sake? Then he felt several sharp stabs on his legs and looked down in astonishment at the glass embedded in his Hessians.

What the hell had been going on here? He had no recollection of throwing the decanter, no recollection of anything apart from drinking more brandy than was good him. Samuel approached him warily, his usual smile absent.

‘Shall I remove those boots for you, sir, before you do yourself any more hurt?’ His valet’s voice was distant. What had he done to offend him?

He stretched out his legs and watched as his man knelt and carefully removed the splinters before pulling off his boots. He looked down with interest at his blood soaked stockings.