Secret Heiress (18 page)

Cheadle turned away abruptly. He walked to the window and stood for some seconds staring out at the garden. Beneath the exquisite cut of his blue superfine, his shoulders were tense. Without turning, he said, ‘You
are
my daughter. I sent someone to question the lawyer who dealt with the business of your adoption. He tried to refuse me, but I offered sufficient inducement to help him change his mind. He is a scoundrel. Instead of giving you to an honest family, he left you in the church and took my money for his own use for years. I have threatened him with arrest and he has taken hasty retirement, though to expose him would cause a scandal I wish to avoid if possible.'

‘How wicked he must be!'

‘You are not surprised. You had suspected it…ah, you think I bribed and corrupted a man against his will. Let me put your mind at rest, Eliza. No force was used. He is of retiring age and the money I offered was not insignificant.'

‘I see…' She smiled a trifle ruefully. ‘It is hardly surprising that he refused to answer Lady Sarah's letter.'

‘I have found there are few that cannot be bought—but
I believe I met my match in you, Eliza.' A little smile entered his eyes. ‘I think you take after me rather than your mother.'

‘Yes, perhaps. I believe I have learned to stand up to whatever knocks life sends my way.'

The smile left his eyes. ‘Were you harshly treated? I am sorry that I did not set myself to discover your whereabouts before. I was angry and bitter—and then there seemed no point.'

‘Until I turned up and you feared I might ruin Marianne's chances.'

‘I dare say you will never forgive me for the things I said?'

‘On the contrary, sir. I do not see the merit in holding a grudge. My life was happy for the whole of my childhood. It became harder when Papa died and Mama took the move to the cottage so badly. She went into a decline from which nothing would rouse her—but I loved her and I took care of her until she died. I was then fortunate to catch the notice of Lady Sarah, who has been kindness itself to me.'

‘You have not told her who you are?'

‘I could not, for I had no proof. Besides, I did not wish to distress her.'

‘I shall return your ring to you,' Cheadle said. ‘It is locked in my safe and I did not think to bring it this morning. Would you like me to break the news to her?'

‘I think you have quite enough troubles at the moment,' Eliza replied with a smile. ‘I am glad that you have told me the truth, sir, but I am in no hurry to tell the rest of society. I would not harm Marianne or my mother for the world. When we are in the country I shall find the right moment to speak to my mother, and
if you would write a letter and confirm the truth if she asks it of you, that will suffice.'

‘How did you become so wise and so patient?' The marquis frowned at her. ‘I have no right to expect anything of you, but it would be easier if you did not announce it to the world at all—though of course I cannot stop you if you wish.'

‘I shall ask Lady Sarah her wishes on the matter. For myself, I do not mind if no one ever knows. To find my mother is such a wonderful thing—something I never expected would happen. To know that she cares for me even without knowing the truth is more than I could ever ask.'

‘You humble me, Eliza,' the marquis said and sounded so sincere that her throat caught. ‘I do not ask anything of you, but perhaps one day I may do something for you.'

‘I expect nothing, sir. Do not feel that you are obliged in any way. I have no claim on you.'

‘Do you not?' He laughed softly. ‘Perhaps you have more claim than you imagine.' He shook his head as her brows lifted. ‘I shall leave you now, but I may call when you are settled in the country.'

Eliza waited until he had gone, then went up the stairs to her mother's room. Oh, how good that felt, to know after all these years: to know she had always been loved and not simply abandoned.

Lady Sarah was sitting up against her pillows, sipping a cup of the bitter dark chocolate she took in the mornings.

‘Eliza, I was wondering where you were. Maisie told me you were not in your room when she brought you a tray earlier. Did you go out for a walk, dearest?'

‘I have always enjoyed walking early,' Eliza replied,
for she did not wish to lie. ‘I have something I ought to tell you in confidence, Lady Sarah. The marquis was here just now. Marianne has eloped with Mr Hastings—except that I do not think he will have taken her to Gretna Green. The marquis asked if I knew where they had gone. I suggested that Lord Seaton might have some idea where Mr Hastings might take her. They are, after all, very close friends.'

‘You think they have not gone to Gretna—do you suppose they have gone to France or somewhere else abroad?'

‘I was thinking Mr Hastings might have taken her to someone he trusts. I do not know the gentleman well, but he seemed honourable and honest. I believe he would not wish to harm Marianne or her reputation.'

‘Cheadle will be most upset. He has doted on that girl, spoiled her, I dare say.'

‘Yes, I imagine he has. She was all he had in the world. When she is married he will miss her.'

‘We must hope that she will marry.' Lady Sarah looked thoughtful. ‘I do hope a scandal will be avoided for Marianne's sake, if not her family's.'

‘I suggested that Lord Seaton might know where his friend would be likely to take the woman he loves.'

‘An excellent suggestion. We must be careful what we say. If anyone asks where she is, it may be best to say we think she has been unwell.'

‘I imagine the marquis will find some reason for his daughter's absence,' Eliza said. ‘Now, if there are any errands I may run for you, Lady Sarah, I shall be happy to do so.'

‘I think that perhaps you ought to return our books to the lending library. If left to the last moment, they are sometimes overlooked and incur a fine.'

‘Yes, perhaps I should,' Eliza agreed. ‘I shall start to pack my belongings this evening. If you would like me to assist your maid by packing some of the smaller items—' She was interrupted by a knock at the bedroom door.

‘Come in,' Lady Sarah called and her maid entered. ‘Yes, Maisie, what is it?'

‘Lord Manners has arrived. He told me he would not disturb you before noon, but wished you to know he has come to stay for a few days.'

‘Indeed?' Lady Sarah frowned. ‘How typical of Howard not to let me know in advance. Well, we shall not alter our plans for him, Eliza. He must just say what he has to say and leave. I imagine he has come to scold me for some reason.'

‘Surely not,' Eliza said as the maid went out. ‘Lord Manners must visit because he is fond of you.'

‘He is usually too busy enjoying himself in London.' Lady Sarah frowned. ‘Take the books and go out, Eliza. Speak to no one of what you know, and do not return until just before noon. I wish to speak to my son before you do.'

‘He will not upset you? Perhaps I should remain here in case you need me?'

‘No, my dearest. I shall hear what he has to say in private. You may come to the parlour when you return—but find some way of amusing yourself for the next few hours. I am sure you would like to try to see Kate before we leave?'

‘Yes, I should. If you are certain?'

‘Quite certain, my love. Off you go. My son is not my keeper, even if he thinks it.'

Eliza left her. She felt anxious as she went down stairs and out into the street. It was clear that Lady Sarah
thought her son had come to scold her, but surely he would not be deliberately unkind? He must know that his mother's health was fragile.

She had an uneasy feeling as she left the house, but then she put it away from her. Eliza had been told to stay away until nearly noon and she must do as she was bid.

D
aniel had managed to dress in breeches and a shirt when a porter came to his room and announced that a gentleman was downstairs and wishing to speak with him.

‘Who is it?' he said. His shoulder was painful, for it had been a struggle to dress alone. It was damned annoying that he had sent his valet to his uncle with a message; he could have done with some assistance. He had no idea how he would have managed if Eliza had not come to his rescue when he was in the fever—and that was a damned coil. If she had been seen leaving…

‘He gave his name as the Marquis of Cheadle, sir.'

‘Damn him,' Daniel muttered and rubbed at his shoulder. ‘Well, he may as well come up.'

If Cheadle had wanted to kill him he could have done it during their duel. Daniel closed his eyes for a moment. He had finished the medicine the doctor had given him and did not wish for more. His shoulder was painful, but it would ease, though the bandages probably needed
changing. He might ask for the physician to call once more.

A light tap at the door heralded the marquis's arrival. He entered on Daniel's invitation and stood looking at him in silence for a moment.

‘I am glad to see you out of bed, though perhaps you ought not to overdo things just yet.'

‘Forgive me if I do not get up.'

‘Please do not try. Your wound must be painful.'

‘It was merely a scratch. Whoever shot me was not a marksman.'

‘Have you any ideas as to why you were shot?'

Daniel considered for a moment in silence, then, ‘I have been thinking hard and the only possible explanation I can think of is that, as you know, I have recently been investigating my cousin's death.'

The marquis gave him a steely look. ‘I warned you to take care, Seaton. Kettleton and his cronies are a dangerous crew.'

‘I knew it, but I did not imagine anything was likely to happen in Bath. I doubt it was Kettleton himself. He has probably had someone watching me in the hope of catching me unawares.'

‘I am sure you are right. He is too cautious and would pay to have his dirty work done for him.'

‘A duel was the perfect moment, for I was expecting the shot from you, not someone behind me. Tell me, sir, what may I do for you? Do you wish for another chance to shoot me?'

Cheadle frowned. ‘I come here this morning to ask a favour of you, sir, not to quarrel with you. In confidence, I must tell you that my daughter Marianne has run away with Mr Hastings. I wondered if you knew where he lives—and where he might take her?'

‘The damned idiot!' Daniel exclaimed. ‘I told him to make a push for her, but I did not expect him to do something this rash. I apologise for Jack, sir. It is not like him.'

‘I rather think it was my daughter's idea, but I am entirely to blame. I had promised to hear him and then I changed my mind…'

‘Because of the duel? That was dashed awkward for him. He did not wish to anger you, but he could not refuse me.'

‘I should not have let it upset me, but I had other things on my mind,' Cheadle replied. ‘I have it on good authority that my daughter had to persuade Mr Hastings. Miss Bancroft seems to think they will not have gone to Gretna.'

‘I doubt Jack would want a hole-in-the-corner affair, sir.' Daniel rubbed at his shoulder. ‘His mother would never forgive him. She is a bit of a scold… He has always rather liked his godmother, for she understands him.' He nodded and then smiled. ‘Lady Runcton lives in Newmarket. I know for a fact that Jack has bought some horses, which he has sent to Newmarket. He plans to race a horse there shortly. I believe Jack would take her there. Jack is all for a peaceful life, sir. He may hope to placate Marianne
and
win you over to his cause. I think he will write to you from Newmarket.'

‘You think he took her to his godmother?' Cheadle stared at him, hope dawning in his eyes. ‘That would be perfectly appropriate if they were engaged…'

‘Just so, sir.' Daniel raised his brows. ‘With a little accommodation on your part no one need know anything untoward.'

‘I shall go to Newmarket at once, if you will furnish me with the lady's address.'

‘Yes, of course.' Daniel said. ‘If you would oblige me by bringing my writing slope?'

‘Thank you for your help. I appreciate your confidence in the matter of my daughter.'

Daniel frowned as the marquis went out. He hoped he had done right in giving Cheadle Lady Runcton's direction. If Jack and Cheadle could sort things out between them, Marianne's reputation might yet be saved. The reflection made him think of Eliza. He must hope that she had not been seen leaving his hotel at past nine in the morning. He had begun to remember things, though hazily and without certainty. He was sure that Eliza had done things for him that no unmarried woman should do for a man who was not a member of his family, and it hardened his resolve.

Had he been able, he would have paid Eliza a visit and then posted down to Newmarket himself. However, his shoulder was too painful and he must spend at least another day resting in his room. He reached for the bell to summon the porter. Another visit from the doctor who had tended him would not go amiss.

 

‘You will write to me?' Kate asked as she kissed Eliza's cheek. ‘And you promise to come to my ball and my wedding?'

‘Yes, of course. I would not miss it for the world,' Eliza said and hugged her. ‘I hope we shall always be friends, Kate.'

‘Yes, well, we shall,' Kate told her. ‘We leave first thing tomorrow and the wedding will be in one month. I shall send your invitation to Lady Sarah's home.'

‘We go home in three days.' Eliza smiled as she took her leave. ‘I am glad to have seen you again, dearest. As your father's estate is not so very far, we shall easily be
able to visit you. It is all very fortunate for you, Kate. You look so happy and I know that Mr Thatcher loves you very much.'

‘I am so lucky, but one day you will be too, Eliza. I have always thought Lord Seaton liked you very well.'

‘I think perhaps we can only ever be friends,' Eliza said and thought of the moment when she had opened her eyes and discovered him looking at her as she lay by his side. ‘I shall leave you now, but I will write soon.'

Eliza's thoughts were troubled as she walked home. Who could have shot Daniel if it was not the marquis? He had dismissed it lightly, but she found it concerning. If the rogue's shot had not gone wide, Daniel might have been killed.

She was wondering whether she dared to risk another visit to his room when she walked into the house and heard the sound of raised voices. One of them belonged to a man, the other to Lady Sarah.

‘Please do not insult my intelligence, Howard. Eliza is not what you seem to imagine.'

‘The gossipmongers have it that she is your bastard and that you intend to leave her your fortune. You must see that I have reason to be concerned?'

‘I really do not see why, Howard. Even if Eliza were my daughter, and should I leave my fortune to someone other than you, you have your father's estate.'

‘That is beside the point, Mama. You know very well that I am concerned for your reputation. Besides, it is deuced expensive to live in town. If you have money to spare, you should think of my wife and your grandchildren.'

‘I shall not be told where to leave my money, Howard. Your father controlled my money while he lived. You may not do the same.'

‘Mother…confound it. You know it isn't just about the money…'

Silence ensued and Eliza took the opportunity to enter the parlour. Her eyes went first to Lady Sarah, for she feared that the quarrel might have upset her. However, she seemed to be in control of her emotions and the situation. Looking next at the gentleman, she saw a large thickset man with dark hair and brown eyes. His mouth was drawn into a thin line and he was staring at her with obvious resentment.

‘Are you in need of anything, ma'am?' Eliza asked. ‘May I do anything for you?'

‘You may leave us alone,' the gentleman said rudely. ‘We were having a private conversation and you are not welcome, Miss Bancroft—or whatever your name is.'

‘You have it correctly, sir.' Eliza faced him calmly. She felt like a tigress protecting her young and would have flown at him with tooth and claw had she not known that would prove more upsetting for her mother. ‘I believe I am addressing Lord Manners? I am Lady Sarah's companion and it is my duty to look after her…which I shall certainly do until she dismisses me.'

‘Eliza dearest, I am glad you are back. Did you have a pleasant visit with Kate?'

‘Yes, thank you, ma'am. She has promised to write and insists that we attend her wedding, which I assured her we should.' She heard a mutter of exasperation from Lord Manners, but ignored it. ‘May I do anything for you?'

‘Nuncheon will be served in the small dining room. Give me your arm, Eliza. I am hungry. Will you be joining us, Howard?'

‘No, Mother. I have some business in town.' He glared at Eliza. ‘I should like to speak to you in private when
I return, Miss Bancroft. My mother may be satisfied to take you without a reference, but I shall require at least one.'

‘I am sure the Earl of Standish would be happy to supply a reference should it be needed,' Eliza said sweetly. ‘Ma'am, shall we have our nuncheon?'

She offered her arm to her mother, feeling the slight tremble of her hand as Lady Sarah leaned on her. Nodding coolly to Lord Manners, she passed him without another look.

In the dining parlour, Lady Sarah sat down in her favourite chair by the open window. She had clearly been more upset by the quarrel with her son than she was prepared to show.

‘I believe we have lemon sole with scallops in white wine sauce, minted peas and creamed potatoes today, Eliza. I shall try to eat a little, for it is a favourite dish. Would you serve it for me, please?'

‘Yes, of course,' Eliza said. It was their custom to serve themselves from the hot dishes under silver covers on the sideboard and she quite often attended Lady Sarah.

‘Thank you, my dear. You know just how I like things.'

Eliza smiled. She had understood from the start that Lady Sarah's appetite was not large and needed to be tempted. Small portions attractively arranged were more enticing to the invalid palate than huge meals.

‘I am so fortunate to have you,' Lady Sarah said as the plate was placed in front of her. ‘No wine for me, my dear. I should like a little barley water—but please have wine yourself.'

‘I would prefer barley water,' Eliza said as she poured the drink and then returned to the sideboard to
choose her own food. ‘Does Lord Manners intend to stay long?'

‘I do hope he will not stay more than the one night,' Lady Sarah replied. ‘He was always a noisy boisterous child. I did not have the heart to have him beaten, you see—though his tutor caned him on my husband's orders more than once. Perhaps if I had asserted my authority when he was younger…' A sigh escaped her. ‘We shall not speak of him, Eliza. Have you any shopping to do before we leave Bath?'

‘I think I have all I need, ma'am. Is there anything you need?'

‘Yes, there are one or two things,' Lady Sarah replied. ‘I ordered some shoes, which should be ready this afternoon, and there are one or two other small things I have remembered. I have left a list on my dressing table. You will need six guineas to purchase the shoes and you should take another four with you to pay for the other items. You know where my box is…' Lady Sarah took the key from her reticule and placed it on the table.

Eliza pocketed the key and promised she would go after nuncheon. They talked about Kate's wedding for the remainder of the meal, discussing the clothes they would need and what gift they should give the bride.

‘I think I shall give her silver,' Lady Sarah said. ‘I shall send it as a present from us both, Eliza. However, if you want to buy her a small present of your own, you may take your wage for next month.'

‘I shall not need to,' Eliza said. ‘Mrs Bancroft left me some beautiful lace. It had been handed down in my father's family. I have several pieces and I think I shall pick two that are rather fine and give Kate those. She can use them to trim a gown or whatever she wishes.'

‘That is a lovely idea.' Lady Sarah smiled at her. ‘If
you have finished your meal run along upstairs and fetch the list. I shall not bother to come with you, my love.'

Eliza did as she was told. She went into her mother's bedchamber and crossed to the dressing chest. Opening the top drawer, she took out the box containing Lady Sarah's money. She counted out ten guineas and locked the box before returning it to the drawer, sliding it in beside the leather jewellery box that she knew contained the things that her mother considered sentimental rather than valuable. Closing the drawer, she left the room and went downstairs to the parlour, where she returned the key to Lady Sarah.

‘I shall not be more than two hours,' Eliza said. ‘Is there anything I may fetch you before I leave?'

‘I have my netting box,' Lady Sarah replied. ‘I shall be perfectly content here until you return.'

Eliza nodded and left her to sit with her work, though she knew that her mother would probably spend most of her time looking out at the garden. Lady Sarah enjoyed watching the birds that came to drink and bathe in the little fountain just outside the parlour window.

It was a pleasant afternoon, and Eliza enjoyed the walk to the shoemaker's. She paid for Lady Sarah's order, then left the little shop, pausing to look in the window of a fashionable milliner before moving on to pick up the various items she was to purchase for her mother.

It was as she was on her way home that she happened to meet Miss Susanne Roberts. The young lady was walking with two friends and Eliza could not avoid them unless she crossed the road, which would have seemed rude.