Scandal at the Dower House (13 page)

‘That wasn’t what Mr Trubshaw was telling them.’

‘He must have misunderstood Mr Brooke. From what he told me he means to leave the common for them to use, both for hay and grazing. He thought a fence to keep the animals from straying all over the village would please them. He would need an Act to take the land away from common use.’

‘He offended a good many people trying to force them to accept his new ideas. Country folk need time to absorb them and see the benefit, but there, young men are always in a hurry.’

‘Has there been much resentment?’

‘Folk are worried. The hay was poor, and it was so wet we couldn’t dry it properly,’ Mr Lewis told her. ‘There won’t be enough to feed all the animals during the winter. We’ll have to slaughter more than usual, and they won’t be full grown and have enough flesh for meat.’

‘Can’t they be sold at market?’

‘No. Everyone is suffering; no one has the spare hay to feed them up or keep them. Besides, the way the weather is, the rest of the harvest will be poor. It’s going to be a lean winter for everyone as well as the animals.’

‘I see. There was something else I wanted to ask you. Is Dan still around? Did he evade that manhunt and return?’

‘I think he did, though he’s not seen in the village now. But Trubshaw says he’s found more shelters built in the woods, and we don’t know of any other vagrants living rough.’

Catarina drove home wondering who to see next. Would the Reverend Eade be able to convince the villagers that Jeremy intended them no harm? Or ought she to talk to Mr Trubshaw and discover exactly what he had been telling people?

Nicholas was unsure whether to be sorry or pleased when he heard Catarina had gone back to Somerset. Meeting her would have been awkward and, as neither Jeremy nor Olivia knew of his offer, they would continue to see her and invite her to their parties. In particular, repenting of his brusqueness towards Olivia he had agreed to her holding a masquerade, instead of taking her to Vauxhall.

It was on the morning of the masquerade, when the entire house was in an uproar of preparations and he had retreated to his library, that a letter from Portugal was delivered to him.

Thomas had news for him. Nicholas was reluctant to open the letter. It could matter little to him now. Catarina’s refusal had been so decided he doubted whether she would ever again agree to listen to him, and he was at a loss to find a way of making her do so.

He wanted her more than ever, whatever the truth about Maria, he acknowledged to himself. Was this simply because she had refused him? He had been aware from an early age that he was a major prize on the marriage market. He had wealth, birth, looks, and the prospect, now realized, of a title. He had assumed, arrogantly, it seemed, that any girl he
honoured with an offer would gladly accept him. To be refused had been a shock to his self-esteem, as well as a more personal disappointment. No, that was too mild a term: he was
devastated
. From the first moment he had been able to think coherently after driving back home he had known he would never offer for anyone else. Other women might match the beauty and allure of Catarina, but he did not love them.

Eventually he opened the letter, which he had been turning over and over as he sat ruminating, wondering what he could have done differently to make Catarina accept him.

Thomas came straight to the point.

‘I have spoken to several members of the de Freitas family in Oporto,’ he wrote, ‘including Senhora Madalene de Freitas, who seems to be the leading member of the family. They all assure me that none of their relatives, however distant, has died recently, within the past year. Nor have any of the ladies been delivered of babies. It occurred to me that the child who is now in England might have been born to a girl who was not married, but from what I can discover, all the members of the family in Portugal were at some family celebration at the end of October, a wedding anniversary, I believe, and any late
pregnancy
would have been obvious and commented on. I was able to speak to one of the senior servants who was present on that occasion, some sort of major domo, whose wife is housekeeper at the quinta where the celebration took place, and they were both sure no lady present was on the verge of giving birth.’

Nicholas put down the letter and stared across the room. What did this mean? Catarina had told him the child had been born to a cousin who had died. According to Thomas no cousin had given birth at the right time, and none had died. So Catarina must have lied to him. Why? Either the baby was her own, after all, or belonged to some unknown woman and Catarina had adopted her. All his doubts came flooding back.

Supposing the baby was hers, had Walter been the father? Given that he and Catarina had been childless for eight
years, it seemed unlikely. Had she taken a lover? A sudden surge of jealousy made his hands shake. He made an effort to calm himself and think clearly. In some ways, tied to an elderly husband, it would not have been surprising had Catarina wanted romance with a younger man. How long might she have been involved with him? Had they been
careless
, allowing the pregnancy?

That led to even blacker thoughts. Walter had died from a fall and not been found for hours. Might he have survived if he had been found earlier? No one had essayed any thoughts on that. But how had the fall happened? Was it at all possible that Catarina or her lover had engineered an accident? But no lover apart from George Pearce had been noticed, and Nicholas, who had known him for years, felt that George was not serious about any woman.

His instincts made him reject the notion. He did not want to believe Catarina could have been a party to murder, but a niggling doubt remained. Who might her lover have been? Would he have been less scrupulous? Would they, at some time, marry? Was that the reason for her rejection of his offer? Who the devil could it be?

Suddenly Nicholas could bear his thoughts no longer. He tore Thomas’s letter into a hundred tiny pieces, rang for his valet and left the house. He would seek some congenial company at White’s, order wine and try to forget Catarina and his suspicions.

Catarina was aware of continued unrest in the village, as people speculated on what their new landlord would do next. They had treated with considerable reserve the fact they were allowed to graze their animals still, and openly asked for how long this concession might last. They treated it as a
concession
, and all assumed it would not continue.

The harvest was as bad as Mr Lewis had predicted. The cold and wet weather earlier in the year had damaged the crops,
and often what had survived was barely worth the harvesting. The villagers faced semi-starvation that winter, many of them blaming Jeremy. Especially they blamed him for not being there to listen to their complaints. Many of them approached Catarina.

‘We can’t be doin’ wi’ that Trubshaw,’ one of them said to her. ‘He don’t listen; all ’e can say is that Mr Brooke will be told, but ’e never comes back to us wi’ any replies. ’Tis my opinion ’e never tells Mr Brooke.’

‘He tells ’im, but the young feller don’t care. Enjoyin’ ’isself in Lunnon, or that there seaside place where the Prince teks all ’is wimmin.’

Catarina did what she could. She still had friends in Bath and some acquaintances in Bristol, and she begged them for promises of help in providing money, or finding food later in the year when conditions would be worse. She wrote to her family in Portugal, but was told that all Europe suffered in the same way, and they could not help. Rather ruefully she wondered whether supplies of olives would have been
acceptable
to the villagers in any case. She even wrote to Joanna, without knowing what her sister might be able to do, but she received no reply, just another ecstatic letter saying what fun it was to be living in Rio, and how much she enjoyed life as a married woman. Eduardo was apparently still infatuated with her, loading her with fabulous jewellery, the Brazilian and Portuguese aristocracy were delightful, so attentive, and she had absolutely no regrets at leaving England and Portugal behind her.

In that last sentence, Catarina read an unspoken reference to Maria. Joanna had never once enquired after her daughter, and this remark seemed to imply she had no regrets at
abandoning
her. She had always known Joanna was tougher than she was herself, but this showed her sister was hard and selfish.

Though keeping Joanna’s secret had involved Catarina in so
many lies and caused her to reject Nicholas, she delighted in the baby. Maria was an enchanting little girl. That was the one joyful outcome of the whole miserable business, and made life bearable.

Chapter Twelve

O
LIVIA ENJOYED HER
stay in Brighton, but confessed to Nicholas she would be glad when they returned to Brooke Court.

‘I want to see everyone again. Of course it has all been exciting, but I think I prefer living in the country most of the time.’

She had received two offers, both from unexceptional young men of good family and adequate income, but she confessed to her brother that she did not think she would like to live with either of them for the rest of her life, as they bored her.

One was concerned only with the fit of his coat and the correctness of his necktie, while attempting to set some new fashion by sporting violently patterned waistcoats and coloured pantaloons. Nicholas privately suspected he was aiming to replace the Beau, now Brummell had been forced to flee to Calais.

The other was a hearty young man dedicated to all forms of sport, who had confided in Nicholas that his family wished him to marry and provide an heir before he was killed in an accident on the hunting field, as they did not wish his very insignificant title to go to a detested cousin. Nicholas had taken a strong objection to having his sister used for such a purpose, and was thankful she did not favour the fellow.

She was still very young, and he hoped she would in time meet a man she could both respect and love. In late August he took her back to Brooke Court, but asked Lady Mortimer to stay with them for a longer time, as he himself needed to be elsewhere.

He did not enlarge on his plans apart from saying he meant to go to Paris for a few weeks. He was much too restless to stay at home. Jeremy was somewhere in the north, and had written that he would be visiting the lakes before returning to Marshington Grange. Trubshaw, he reported, wrote that all was well there, so Nicholas did not have to worry.

Nicholas reflected that he would have needed a strong reason to go back to Marshington, where he would be bound to meet Catarina. He was torn, his emotions in turmoil. He still desired her, but could not rid his mind of suspicions about the child. She must have lied to him when she said the baby belonged to a dead cousin. Thomas was reliable and had a knack of drawing information out of people. When he’d been in the army he had often been used as a scout. Since he spoke the language, he had been able to talk to the natives and discover more about the enemy’s movements than others who had been forced to rely on interpreters. His information would be
accurate
, and it was damning for Catarina.

He went to Paris and enjoyed a flirtation with a beautiful young Parisian, the wife of a French diplomat who was currently in Austria. When she intimated she would not object to something more than a flirtation, however, he discovered he had no appetite. The only woman he could envisage taking to bed was Catarina.

Was he to be celibate for the rest of his life, he wondered? Perhaps the repugnance he had felt on contemplating her
invitation
would lessen in time. He threw himself into all the entertainments Paris offered, visited the country château of an old friend and, when his conscience urged him to go home and make sure all was well there, he quietened it by telling himself
that any bad news would come to him quickly. He was not yet ready to face life in England without the prospect of having Catarina by his side.

It was Mrs Eade who told Catarina of the trouble in the village. To occupy herself and try to forget Nicholas she had joined the weekly sewing circle. Half-a-dozen women were sitting round the rectory dining-room table with a heap of clothes they were sorting to find material suitable for turning into smocks for the poorer children of the parish.

‘Mr Lewis had several hens stolen two nights ago and his old dog was killed. It is supposed to have been to prevent him giving the alarm.’

The women looked nervous.

‘How shocking!’

‘The poor man. He might have been killed in his bed.’

‘That’s not all. It seems as though during the night someone has been milking one of the cows on the common.’

‘That sounds like vagrants, someone living rough.’

‘Are any of us safe in our beds? They’ll be breaking into houses next, in search of food.’

‘Is Dan still living rough in the woods, does anyone know?’ Catarina asked.

‘I’m sure some of the younger men know, but they won’t admit it, not even to the rector, and he has spoken very firmly to them. He means to make it the subject of his next sermon.’

Briefly Catarina contemplated the vision of a dozen
repentant
young men rushing forward to confess knowledge of one of their former drinking cronies living wild in the woods, and suppressed a smile. If they were in church, which she doubted, they would hardly be moved by one of the Reverend Eade’s sermons. Though he very occasionally raised his voice, he was usually too academic for them, inclined to pepper his discourse with quotations from the classics, in Latin or Greek, and wander off into abstruse philosophical reflections. Now if
Mrs Eade were to deliver it, she would at least be listened to with attention, as she had a very forceful way of stating her opinions.

Her amused reflections were interrupted and she paid attention to Mrs Eade once more.

‘Mr Lewis is setting up a guard. One of his men will sit up every night. Remember his barn which was set alight earlier in the year? He doesn’t want that to happen again.’

‘But don’t we all need protecting?’

‘What is the constable doing about it?’

‘They should have men patrolling the village every night.’

Catarina stopped listening. She felt sorry for Dan, even though he had brought his misfortune on himself. If it were he stealing the hens it would be in desperation. She wondered whether he would come to her if she rode near the woods, like he had on a previous occasion. He trusted her, she thought, and she might be able to help him. What he needed was to get away from the area. Perhaps if she could give him some respectable clothes and some money he would be able to leave and find himself a job somewhere he was not known. He might even be able to sign on to a ship going to New South Wales and try to rejoin Annie.

In Paris Nicholas was getting restive. He was tired of the parties, and the people. When he was invited to the embassy to a reception for some visiting diplomats he almost sent his apologies, but at the last minute, suddenly impatient with the book he was trying to read, he decided he might as well be bored somewhere other than in his hotel suite.

The reception rooms at the embassy were crowded, but Nicholas knew many of the people there. Rather to his annoyance he found his Aunt Clara had been invited and, as soon as she saw him, she broke off her conversation with a timid-looking Frenchwoman and came straight across the room to him.

‘You still here, Nicholas? I thought when you called you were only going to be here for a couple of weeks. It would have been courteous to have let me know your movements.’

Nicholas ground his teeth together.

‘Aunt, I told you I was unsure how long I would stay.’

‘Still flirting with that French jade, are you? Be warned, Nephew, her husband’s reported to be excessively jealous, has fought two duels over her already and he’s reputed to be a crack shot.’

‘Did he kill his men?’ Nicholas asked, intrigued. His interest in the lady had waned weeks ago. When he rejected her advances she had made it clear she was no longer willing to tolerate his company. But he had not realized she was such a fatal attraction.

‘I expect so. I don’t pay much attention to these affairs. They are so vulgar. But I would hate to know a member of my own family had been killed by a jealous husband.’

She would not, he noted with some amusement, appear to regret his death, merely the manner of it.

Somewhat to his relief she saw another victim just entering the room and, with a parting recommendation to behave himself, almost as though he were still a schoolboy, she sped away. He looked round for more congenial company and saw two men he knew from his days in the army the previous year. It was only when he had approached the group and been made welcome, he saw Delphine Pearce was amongst them.

What did she know about his offer to Catarina? They had appeared to be good friends, and when Catarina had left him on that fateful day she had looked pale. Delphine would have been bound to ask her what was the matter, and in all
likelihood
Catarina would have told her. Women liked to have confidantes, he understood, and were likely to choose girls they had known at school. He knew Catarina had left Town a few days later, for Olivia had been so disappointed not to have her at her private masquerade. Had she left London, gone back
to the Dower House because of his proposal? In which case Delphine Pearce would almost certainly know at least the bare facts.

When the group split up Delphine remained, smiling at him. He moved across to speak to her.

‘Let us find somewhere more private,’ she said, before he could say anything, and turned to lead the way to a small alcove at the side of the room. She sat on one of the sophas and patted the seat beside her.

‘How is Catarina?’ he asked, unable to prevent himself.

‘I have only received one letter, but she says she is well, though there is a good deal of unrest in the village. The harvest was exceptionally poor and the villagers are facing a bad winter.’

‘My brother has not yet returned?’

‘He had not when she wrote. Why do you not go down there to see for yourself?’

Nicholas shook his head.

‘I don’t plan to go down there. Marshington Grange belongs to Jeremy now; it would be interference on my part.’

‘Then he should be looking after it himself. Ah, Senhor Gomez, how pleasant to meet you again. It seems such a long time since I was at your party. My lord, may I introduce Senhor Fernando Gomez, one of the Brazilian delegation currently visiting Europe. Senhor, the Earl of Rasen.’

Nicholas stood up and offered his hand to the Brazilian, a flamboyantly handsome man with dark, curling hair and
brilliant
green eyes. The other bowed, lifted Delphine’s hands to his lips, complimented her on her gown, then turned back to Nicholas.

‘I am honoured to meet you, my lord. I have heard your name on the lips of Joanna, my friend Eduardo’s wife. I
understand
she met you – now, where did she say? Not in Lisbon, I think, where she met Eduardo. It was something to do with her sister. I am hoping to meet the lady when I go to England.’

Delphine was smiling at him rather coquettishly, Nicholas thought sourly.

‘I was so sorry not to meet Eduardo Gonçalves myself,’ she said, ‘but unfortunately we left Lisbon in November, before he arrived. His romance with Joanna was rather a whirlwind one, I understand from Catarina, her sister.’

‘Catarina, yes. The pretty young widow. Joanna told me how sad it was that she was left with a young child.’

Nicholas stopped listening. He had not known Delphine had been in Lisbon, but from her words it appeared she had been there just before the time Catarina, if Maria were her child, would have given birth. Surely she must have known about it. Perhaps she did and was keeping her friend’s secret. Joanna seemed to have mentioned it in such a way that Senhor Gomez took it for granted Maria was her sister’s child.

Before he could demand information, Senhor Gomez was excusing himself to Nicholas, saying he had promised to
introduce
Delphine to another of his friends, and drew her away. Nicholas left the embassy soon afterwards and spent the rest of the night juggling with dates. He did not know enough. He knew roughly when Maria had been born, and when Catarina had returned home. He must speak to Delphine again.

Catarina was walking in the village near the rectory when she saw Mr Trubshaw driving a gig along the main street. He was lashing the pony into a gallop and apparently talking to himself, as his mouth was opening and shutting and he kept shaking his head. He drew to a clattering halt outside the small house belonging to the village constable, and without bothering to tie up the pony which was blowing so much it would hardly be likely to run away, he ran up to the door and pounded on it. A few minutes later both he and the constable were clambering into the gig. Mr Trubshaw turned it and set off back towards the Grange.

Wondering what had made the usually calm agent behave
so oddly, she strolled back to the Dower House. Blodwen came into her bedroom as she was removing her hat, and was clearly excited.

‘My lady, there’s been a robbery at the Grange. One of the footmen came down here, sent by Mr Trubshaw, he was, to ask if we’d had any trouble ourselves.’

‘You mean someone broke into the house?’

‘Yes, indeed, through one of the dining-room windows. None of the servants heard a thing; they only discovered it this morning when one of the gardeners saw the broken window. I suppose, with none of the family there, the dining room would not be in use.’

‘What did they steal? Do you know?’