Lady Sabrina’s Secret (12 page)

‘I think she was ashamed of having allowed things to go so far, my lord. She knew that you and Sir James were proceeding with arrangements for the betrothal, and she still went on letting that happen even though she knew it was my brother she really loved.'

‘Richard Wexford isn't entirely without blame in all this, Mrs Marchant. He should have come to me and been open about it.'

Deborah nodded. ‘I do not deny it, sir, but in all fairness
I have to say that it would be very difficult indeed to tell you the truth when it was clear that you wished above all else to carry out your late father's wishes.'

‘Difficult, but not impossible.'

‘Perhaps Lady Sabrina preferred an elopement, which would at least have given her the protection of my brother's name. To be open about it all before the event would have exposed her to scandal, and I think that that is the one thing she fears above all else. She was terrified when my identity was revealed in the conservatory, for she thought her secret was about to be dragged into the open.'

He nodded. ‘You are probably right.'

‘I think, too, that her recent illness has been caused by her belief that Richard not only stole the necklace, but also that he was conducting a liaison with Lady Ann. Your sister is suffering from a broken heart, my lord.'

‘Broken hearts are the stuff of novels, Mrs Marchant.'

‘But they do exist, I promise you.'

He smiled at her. ‘Yes, I suppose they do,' he murmured.

She returned the smile. ‘I'm glad now that I've told you everything,' she said.

‘Contrary to your belief, madam, I am not an ogre, even though I may have appeared to have gone out of my way to give that impression of late. I love my sister very much, and her happiness means a great deal to me. If Richard Wexford is the man she really loves, then she will have my blessing to follow her heart, make no mistake of that. But first we must prove once and for all that he is innocent, and Uppingham is guilty.' He glanced at Lady Ann's house again. ‘I rather fancy that our cause will be best served by an immediate call upon that unfortunate lady. I have a
feeling
that she will help us if I can convince her that I can
protect her from Uppingham.'

‘If she is being blackmailed through whoever that girl is in the portrait, I cannot see that anything you say will persuade her to assist us.'

‘Uppingham isn't the only one capable of issuing threats, Mrs Marchant, for I can stir myself to considerable unpleasantness when the spirit moves me. You may or may not be aware that I am regarded as one of the most accurate shots in England, and I am quite prepared to call him out. He would not emerge the victor from such a dawn
meeting
, I assure you.'

She stared at him. ‘A duel?' she breathed.

‘If necessary, but I do not for a moment imagine it will come to that. I believe that Uppingham can be persuaded to do as we wish rather than run the risk of being
extinguished
at my hand. With a little cunning on our part, I think we can achieve not only your brother's exoneration from all blame, but also Lady Ann's protection from
blackmail
, and the continuing concealment of my sister's, er, secret misconduct.'

Deborah searched his face in the darkness. ‘Do you really believe we can achieve all that?'

‘Yes, Mrs Marchant, I do.' He paused for a moment. ‘Forgive me for saying this, but are you absolutely
confident
that there has never been anything between Lady Ann and your brother? I do not pretend to know Richard at all, indeed we've only spoken on a few occasions, but it isn't beyond the realms of possibility that he finds older women to his liking. Lady Ann is a very handsome woman, after all.'

‘If Richard was guilty in that respect, he would not have written a denial in his letter to me. In the letter he told of
his undying love for Lady Sabrina, and he refuted entirely all suggestion of a liaison with Lady Ann.'

‘And you believe him completely?'

‘Yes.'

‘Then that is sufficient for me.'

‘My lord, you hardly know me. I may be the most
dreadful
judge of character.'

He gave a low laugh. ‘My dear Mrs Marchant, after what passed between us a few minutes ago, I feel I know you exceptionally well.'

The darkness again hid her embarrassment. ‘My lord, after what passed between us a few minutes ago, you know only that I have a talent for subterfuge.'

‘Ah, yes. Subterfuge,' he murmured dryly, putting on his hat. ‘Well, whatever your talent is, Mrs Marchant, I can vouch for its effects. I don't know when I was last taken quite so much by surprise. I confess to more than a little disappointment that the coachman walked straight past, for who knows to what delights I might have been treated had he lingered awhile.'

‘You would probably have been deeply disappointed, my lord,' she replied, trying to appear composed when she was not.

‘We will never know now, will we?' he said. ‘Now then, shall we call upon Lady Ann?' Offering her his arm, he indicated that they should climb the steps and go to the front of the house. As he did so however, they both heard the sound of running footsteps on the gravel path in the garden, and a moment later a man's voice rang out urgently to the grooms and stableboys still playing dice in the coach house.

‘Let's be having you, my lads! Lady Ann's leaving for
Chippenham without delay and needs her traveling carriage right now! Get a move on, for she's in a great hurry!'

The duke's loud knocking brought Lady Ann's harassed butler at the double, but as he opened the door he was
startled
and dismayed to find himself brushed aside as the duke and Deborah entered the house uninvited. They found themselves in an entrance hall where chaos reigned as Lady Ann's hasty preparations to leave had all the servants hurrying about in confusion. Afootman was
dragging
a hastily packed trunk down the stairs, and two maids ran up past him with garments that had been freshly
laundered
that day.

After his initial shock at being treated so
unceremoniously
, the butler recovered his dignity. ‘May I inquire the meaning of this, sir, madam?' he enquired.

The duke tossed his hat and gloves down upon a table and turned to face him. ‘Please inform Lady Ann that the Duke of Gretton wishes to speak to her immediately.'

The butler gaped. The Duke of Gretton? ‘Your … Your Grace, I fear that Lady Ann cannot possibly receive visitors now, for not only is it exceedingly late, but she is also about to depart for Chippenham.'

‘Tell her that what I have to say to her is to her
advantage
.
We will wait in there.' Indicating the dining room, the duke turned and walked away, as if Lady Ann's
acquiescence
was a foregone conclusion. As Deborah followed him, the bothered butler decided to do as he was told, for it wasn't up to him to argue with dukes. With a resigned sigh he went up the stairs to tell his mistress.

In the dining room, which was now lit only by several candlesticks on the mantelshelf, Deborah and the duke went to study the portrait that Sir James had used earlier to force Lady Ann to obey him. The girl's painted face gazed sweetly down at them from the canvas, her dark brown eyes so lifelike that it seemed she might at any moment step down from the frame.

Deborah glanced at the duke. ‘Who do you think she is?'

‘Well, we know that her name is Christabel,' he murmured, ‘and if my guess is correct, I believe we will find that she is Lady Ann's daughter.'

Deborah's lips parted in surprise. ‘Her daughter? But Lady Ann has never married.'

‘My dear Mrs Marchant, since when has conception been dependent upon the presence of a marriage contract?'

‘Since never, sir, but I confess to being a little skeptical of the suggestion that someone like Lady Ann would have a child out of wedlock.'

‘But if she had, would it not be an excellent lever for a blackmailer?' he murmured. ‘Look at the portrait, Mrs Marchant, how can it be a likeness of anyone other than Lady Ann's child? The hair is the same, the eyes and the complexion match exactly, and yet the painting cannot be more than three or four years old at the most. I would lay odds that Christabel can call Lady Ann Appleby her mother.'

The door opened behind them, and Lady Ann herself came hesitantly in. She still looked quite distraught, although she had conquered her tears. Her eyes were
tear-stained
and puffy, and her straight black hair had been combed loose and then tied back with a simple green silk ribbon. She now wore a plain green velvet gown.

‘You wished to see me urgently, Your Grace?' she said to the duke, but then froze as she recognized Deborah, to whose real identity she had evidently now been alerted. With a faint gasp she backed away toward the door again, but in a moment the duke strode over to her and took her hand.

‘Please don't be afraid, Lady Ann, for we mean you no malice or harm, on the contrary in fact.'

‘I … I have nothing to say….'

‘We know that Uppingham is blackmailing you, Lady Ann, and we know that you have been compelled to tell lies about Mrs Marchant's brother, Richard Wexford. If you will but trust yourself to me, I think I can promise that we can defeat Uppingham, and that all will end well.'

Her lips trembled, and her hand crept anxiously to the lace at her throat as her eyes went from him to Deborah. ‘I'm afraid to say anything to you, sir,' she whispered. ‘I
dare
not say anything …'

‘Because he has threatened your daughter?'

Lady Ann's breath caught, and she snatched her hand away. ‘I don't have a daughter!' she cried.

‘Yes, you do, my lady, for that is her portrait,' said the duke, pointing.

Tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head. ‘No. No, she's isn't my daughter….'

Deborah went to her, taking her hand and drawing her
toward one of the chairs by the table. ‘Please sit down, Lady Ann, for the duke and I mean to stop Sir James from succeeding in any of this. Maybe we are wrong, and Christabel isn't your daughter, but whoever she is, she is important enough for you to be vulnerable because of her.'

Lady Ann sat down unwillingly, her tearful gaze moving toward the portrait. Deborah sat next to her, and the duke leaned back against the heavy table, but when he again asked her to confide in them, she still shook her head. ‘I have nothing to say to you.'

He was gently persuasive. ‘Lady Ann, I will protect you from Uppingham, you have my word upon that. You don't have to fear him.'

‘I don't fear him for myself, not anymore, but I do fear him because of Christabel. You are right, she is my
daughter
.' She hesitated, staring at the portrait, and then she sighed resignedly. ‘I will tell you what you want to know, for I suppose it makes no difference now. My mind is made up, and I know what I must do. It began three weeks ago, when Sir James suddenly called upon me very late one night. He and I weren't acquainted at all, and naturally I was puzzled to say the least, but it soon became clear that the call was not one of friendship. He told me that he had found out about Christabel, and that he would make me the subject of a public scandal unless I did what he wanted. You see, he incorrectly believed she'd been born out of wedlock, but nevertheless I have always been terrified that her existence would become known.'

Deborah looked curiously at her. ‘I don't understand. If Christabel is legitimate, why are you…?'

‘It is a long story, Mrs Marchant, and begins sixteen years ago when I was only sixteen myself. A small estate
adjoining 
my father's land in Hertfordshire was sold to a
gentleman
named George Arrowsmith, and from the first moment I saw him, I loved him with all my heart. He wasn't considered suitable however, for not only was he far below me in station, but he was also involved in a
boundary
dispute with my father over the ownership of some prime land that had been in the Appleby family for several centuries. My father loathed George, especially when against all the odds he won the dispute and my father had to part with the land. Fearful of losing me to George as well, my father despatched me to distant relatives in Scotland, but George followed me.' Lady Ann's eyes
shimmered
with tears. ‘We were married without anyone
knowing
, but we spent only one night together, for when he left me the next morning his horse bolted and threw him, and he was killed when his head struck a rock. I was
inconsolable
and frightened because I was suddenly alone. No one knew of my secret marriage, and I took refuge in
keeping
it a secret, for without George I lacked all courage. Then I discovered I was expecting his child, and I was forced to confide in one of my relatives. She agreed to help me, but only provided I gave up my child afterward, and no one was ever any the wiser. I agreed to her terms, and in due course I had Christabel. I couldn't bring myself to give her up entirely however, and so I made certain she was cared for properly, and I provided for her as best I could from my allowance. I saw her as often as I could, and she and I are now very close. My father never knew what had happened, and as the years have passed it has become more and more difficult to tell him. He never forgave George for
succeeding
in the law suit or for being upstart enough to attempt to court me, and when he learned of George's sudden
death from a riding accident, he expressed satisfaction that he was now rid of such an unwelcome neighbor. I am deeply ashamed of my weakness in shrinking from the facts of what I'd done, but in spite of everything I still love my father very much. He is very old and frail now, and the shock of discovering how greatly I deceived and
disappointed
him would probably put an end to him. I couldn't bear to have that on my conscience as well, and so I've continued to keep Christabel's existence a deep secret. That is why I was originally so vulnerable to blackmail. Now I am fearful too that Sir James is prepared to harm Christabel should I defy him.' Lady Ann bowed her head, her
shoulders
shaking as she began to cry.

Deborah put out a comforting hand. ‘Please don't cry, Lady Ann, for I understand your quandary.'

‘Do you?' Lady Ann took a deep steadying breath. ‘I am so ashamed of my actions, both in the past and again now. I denied my love for George, denied my marriage, and, above all, denied the existence of my beloved child. Now I have been craven enough to submit to a plot to dishonor and ruin your poor brother.' She rose unhappily to her feet. ‘Sir James made no secret of his reasons for doing it. He was in love with Lady Sabrina and found out that she was secretly seeing Mr Wexford. He intended to rid himself of such a formidable rival by incriminating him, and by allowing Lady Sabrina to also believe that a liaison of some sort had taken place. He wanted it to appear that Mr Wexford had seduced me in order to steal the necklace, and to my regret I agreed. Sir James also wanted us to pretend that we were still not acquainted because he felt it would strengthen our plot, for no one would imagine we had conspired together if it was believed we didn't know each
other. The whispers about my indiscretions with Mr Wexford were hard to tolerate, but I was prepared to do anything to protect the secret about my daughter.'

The duke studied her. ‘What happened to make you change your mind? Why did you suddenly go to the ball tonight and risk so much by doing so?'

She turned swiftly. ‘How did you know I went there? I was only at the rooms for a few minutes. I saw you and Lady Sabrina leaving, and then I managed to speak briefly to Sir James.'

Deborah looked at her. ‘I was there as well, Lady Ann. I was hiding behind the curtain right next to you because I didn't want to be seen by the duke, Lady Sabrina, or Sir James. I had to stay there when Sir James saw you, and I overheard everything you said. It was because of what I heard that I went to see the duke, and then we came here. We, er, were also eavesdropping a little earlier, when Sir James was in this room with you. We were outside the window.' She nodded toward the drawn curtains.

Lady Ann gave a brief, rather ironic laugh. ‘I had no idea, no idea at all,' she murmured, then she took a long breath. ‘You asked why I suddenly changed my mind. I will tell you. When Sir James learned today that you were Mr Wexford's sister, Mrs Marchant, he immediately sent a message to me so that I would be on my guard. But
discovering
who you were, and knowing that you'd come
anonymously
with Morag McNeil, who must have known your real identity, unnerved me completely. I knew that you and Morag must have had an ulterior motive for calling here, and that that could only mean you suspected me. I was afraid that I was about to be exposed, and since I already felt wretched with guilt, I suddenly couldn't stand it
anymore. I decided that I would leave Bath without further ado, go to Christabel, whose whereabouts I didn't then realize were known to Sir James, and then take her
somewhere
secret and safe. Once I had come to that decision, nothing would do but that I faced Sir James immediately. I didn't care that I ran a great risk by going to the Upper Rooms, for I was wound up to such a point that I really wasn't thinking clearly. I had one thing in my mind, one thing only, and that was to run away with my daughter. But, as you know, Mrs Marchant, when I told him what I'd decided to do, he made it clear that he knew exactly where to find my daughter. Somehow he had found out that she is in Chippenham. For the past year she has been at Miss Algernon's Academy for the Daughters of Gentlefolk, and she is there under her real name, Christabel Arrowsmith.'

Deborah's lips parted, and she remembered the wrought iron gates and cedar-lined drive leading to the redbrick mansion on the outskirts of the Wiltshire market town. She had driven right past the place where Sir James Uppingham's weapon of blackmail was to be found!

Lady Ann continued. ‘If you were outside the window a little earlier, you know what transpired when Sir James came here. I gave in again when he threatened to go to Chippenham, but when he had gone I decided that my only course was to run away before he knew it, and take Christabel with me. I knew that would mean the inevitable spread of my daughter's story, my illegitimate daughter as he believed, and that it would reach my father, but the time has come for me to put Christabel before all else. My father is old and has had a long and full life; Christabel's life is just beginning. I wish I could help you in whatever it is you have planned, but I am set upon going to Chippenham to
take my daughter away. She is going to be safe from him, and that is all that matters to me.'

As if to emphasize the finality of her words, her carriage was at that moment brought to the door. The stamping and snorting of the fresh horses became suddenly louder as the butler opened the front door for the first of the trunks to be carried out.

The duke went to the window and held the curtain aside to look out at the night. Beyond the river the lights of Bath twinkled in the darkness. Lowering the curtain once more, he turned back to face Lady Ann. ‘I have a suggestion to make, Lady Ann, but first I need to know whether you would still decline to help if you knew beyond all shadow of doubt that Christabel was safe.'