The Danbury Scandals (19 page)

‘I wish I had
your faith,’ he said. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I have things to attend to.’

The silence he
left behind was unbearable. Maryanne hardly dared look at Adam for fear of
weakening. He uttered a sound that was very nearly a groan and began pacing the
room, head down, deep in thought. He could not understand why, knowing Maryanne
and professing to love her, Danbury had already condemned her publicly, unless
it was because he thought she knew more of the truth than she really did and
wanted to silence her. It was the first time the idea had occurred to him and
it put him in a cleft stick. Filled with helpless anger for the first time
since he had been forced to witness his father’s execution, he was unable to
decide what to do.

He turned when
he reached the window for the second time and came back to where she sat,
searching her face as if etching it on his memory. ‘Do you think you could
convince everyone of your innocence?’ he asked. ‘Do you think they would
believe you?’

‘It’s not just
my innocence, but yours too.’

‘Forget me, we
are talking of you,’ he said sharply. ‘You must lay the blame on me, tell them
you witnessed the killing and I forced you to come with me, to save myself. You
will be the little heroine and your reputation will be intact.’

‘I couldn’t do
that,’ she said quickly. ‘It is not true. You didn’t force me and I saw
nothing.’

‘It is the only
way you will get them to believe you,’ he insisted.

‘No,’ she said
flatly. ‘I must tell the truth.’

‘And if the
truth will not serve, what then? Mark Danbury has set his heart on seeing me
hang.’

‘One man alone
cannot condemn you,’ she asserted. ‘It takes a jury.’

‘But one woman
can,’ he said softly. ‘You are in this with me, my sweet Maryanne, right up to
your pretty little neck.’

‘You know I had
nothing to do with it.’

‘Then save
yourself.’

‘With perjury?’
She turned from him because she could not look into his face without wanting to
cry. He had not murdered James, not deliberately in cold blood, she was sure of
that, but had he killed him in the heat of passion? Had his hate and anger got
the better of him? His military training would have done the rest. She
remembered how he had reached for his weapon when she had surprised him in the
vestry. ‘We go back together or not at all.’

‘Then it is not
at all,’ he said, suddenly making up his mind. ‘If you will do nothing to save
yourself, why should I sacrifice myself trying to help you? You forget that
before all this happened I was on my way back to France.’ His voice was clipped
as if the words themselves were painful to him. ‘We will leave as soon as the
arrangements have been made.’

‘We? You mean
you and I?’

‘That is
exactly what I mean.’

‘But I can’t
come with you.’

‘Why not? Was
that not what you had in mind when you hid in my coach?’

‘That was
before...’

‘Before you
learned I was a murderer?’ His laughter was harsh.

‘No, I wasn’t
going to say that.’

‘There is no
alternative,’ he said flatly. ‘And you need not worry about your reputation; we
will be married just as soon as it can be arranged.’ The words were out before
he had considered how they might sound to her. It was certainly not the way he
had wanted to propose. He watched the look of horror cross her face and knew he
would never be able to mend that particular piece of clumsiness. But, if it
made her see the precariousness of her own position, so much the better.

‘I told you
before I would not marry you however compromised I had been,’ she retorted,
angry for the first time. ‘And I would have to be desperate indeed to accept
such a proposal.’

‘Then you will
come with me unwed, for I am determined to take you.’

‘Against my
will?’

‘If necessary.’

She blinked
away tears of self-pity; they were out of place. She had brought this on
herself and had only herself to blame. ‘Then I am in your hands.’ The words
were wrung from the depths of her despair. To want someone so badly and then to
find, when what you most desired was yours, that it was completely joyless was
the height of irony. ‘Do what you will.’

His grim
expression did not change; he seemed neither relieved nor sorry. ‘I’ll go and
fetch Jeannie,’ he said. ‘We will need her.’

Maryanne was
persuaded to go to the bedroom she had used earlier and try to rest, while the
men and Jeannie made what preparations were necessary. She could find no peace
and instead sat numbly on a chair by the window, staring out at the dark water
of the Thames. There were ships moored near by, frigates with sails furled,
merchantmen, laden and unladen, rocking on the swell. Two coal barges made
their way slowly upstream, and, away to her left, a ferryman was rowing his
passengers across to the other side where a sprawl of urban buildings covered
what had once been green fields. But wherever she looked, whatever her eyes
saw, she was confronted with an image of James.

He had not been
quite a second father, but certainly like a favourite uncle, and she mourned
him and condemned his murderer. Could it have been Adam? She remembered how
gentle Adam could be, how easy she was in his company, how he made her laugh,
how his soft brown eyes looked at her, how his kisses felt on her lips. He had
kindled in her a feeling of her own worth, when everyone else diminished it.
She desperately wanted to believe in his innocence, when all the evidence
pointed to his guilt. She found herself murmuring, ‘Why? Oh, why?’ and, finding
no answers, flung herself across the bed and sobbed herself into an uneasy
sleep. She did not hear the door open, nor the quiet footsteps crossing the
room to her bed.

Adam’s grim
expression softened at the sight of her. Her hair was spread about her face and
her cheeks were streaked with weeping. She held the pillow in her arms as if,
like a child, she derived comfort from it. He stooped and brushed her lips with
his, tasting their sweetness. ‘My love, I never wanted this for you,’ he
whispered. ‘I am sorry, more sorry than you will ever know.’

Half in sleep,
she became aware of his breath on her cheek as he stooped over her and felt the
back of his hand stroking her forehead very gently. ‘Time to wake up,’ he said,
turning to light a candle. ‘It wants only an hour to dawn.’ There was nothing
for it; she opened her eyes.

He had bathed
and changed into brown kerseymere pantaloons topped by a fawn-coloured
frockcoat, over an embroidered waistcoat buttoned high to a yellow silk cravat
flamboyantly tied and held by a diamond pin. A thigh-length pelisse was
fastened across one shoulder, military fashion. He smiled at her expression of
surprise. ‘Behold Sir Peter Adams!’

‘Another name?’
She wished she did not have to wake up and face the day. ‘Do you change your
name as frequently as your clothes?’

‘Very nearly,’
he said cheerfully, determined that their last few hours together would not be
miserable. He wanted to remember her with a smile on her face and laughter in
her eyes.

She looked at
her own crumpled dress; why had she not had the sense to take it off before
falling asleep? Beside him, she looked a dish-clout. ‘What about me? Have you
decided to leave me behind after all?’

‘No. Nothing
has changed. We are going for another little coach ride.’

‘Why won’t you
give yourself up? If you are innocent...’

‘If?’ He turned
to face her and the aggrieved look in his dark eyes turned her heart over; she
felt it thumping so hard that she was almost breathless.

‘Are you
innocent?’ she asked him.

‘Don’t you
know?’

‘Of course I
don’t know. How could I? You were in the library with James when I left the
house.’

‘I thought a
woman always trusted her intuition; what does your intuition tell you?’

‘You are
deliberately trying to confuse me.’

‘Because I ask
you to come to terms with your own feelings, to be honest with yourself? If you
trusted me, it would not matter what I had been accused of, nor what the
evidence was.’

‘Couldn’t we
stay here for a day or two just to see what happens?’ She was grasping at
straws.

‘That would
make Robert an accessory,’ Adam said. ‘He is too good a friend to implicate in
that way.’

‘You can’t go
on running away the rest of your life.’

‘I don’t intend
to.’ His tone was grim. ‘I will be back.’

‘Where are we
going?

He laughed.
‘Wait and see.’

‘You don’t
trust me, do you?’

‘I trust you
with my life,’ he said seriously, ‘every day we are together.’

‘Oh,’ she said
in a small voice.

He picked up
her hand to put the palm to his lips, making her shiver. ‘Now I want you to
dress as quickly as you can. Make yourself into Lady Adams.’

‘Lady Adams?’
Had he really meant it when he said he would marry her? But he would not try to
force her into making marriage vows, would he? What could he possibly gain by
that? The answer came to her with sudden clarity; as his wife she could not
give evidence against him. Did he feel that unsure of her?

He stood up,
smiling. ‘It would be best, don’t you think? A husband and wife will attract
less attention than a man-about-town with a woman who, beautiful as she is,
looks like a wanton.’

‘I look like a
wanton?’

‘Look like one
and are one,’ he said.

‘That’s not
true!’

‘No? Is it the
normal behaviour of a well-brought-up young lady to throw herself into the arms
of a strange man and then jump into a carriage in order to be carried off by
him?’

‘No, but
nothing is normal in this affair, is it?’

‘Affair? My
dear Maryanne, who said anything about an affair? Nothing is further from my
thoughts.’

‘No, I suppose
not, when it is your intention to force me into marriage so that I cannot give
evidence against you.’

‘Good God,
woman, what do you take me for?’ His bantering tone changed abruptly to one of
anger. He flung a heap of clothes on to the bed. ‘Put those on and come
downstairs. I’ll give you five minutes; if you are not down by then I’ll come
and dress you myself.’

The clothes
consisted of a flannel petticoat, a fine lawn underskirt and a high-waisted
blue taffeta gown with a frilled neck and tight sleeves. Afraid that he would
carry out his threat, Maryanne dressed hurriedly and, inside the allotted five
minutes, had joined him in the hall, where he threw a full-length burnous
around her shoulders and hurried her out to a waiting coach.

Beside it stood
Jeannie, dressed for travelling. ‘Is
Madame
Clavier coming too?’
Maryanne asked.

‘You cannot
travel without a chaperon.’ He spoke flatly as he lifted her bodily and put her
on to the seat, then turned to help Jeannie in beside her. ‘Watch her,’ he told
her. ‘She has a habit of running away.’ Then he shut the door and climbed up on
the driving seat beside the driver. As the wheels began to turn, a cock in a
nearby yard crowed in the dawn.

By the time it
was fully light, they were out in open countryside, but instead of whipping the
horses up Adam allowed them to go at little more than walking pace.

‘Why are we
going so slowly?’ Maryanne asked.

Jeannie smiled.
‘Getting anxious, are you?’

‘No. ‘

They fell into
silence again, until Maryanne could stand it no more. ‘How long have you known
the captain?’

‘Five years or
thereabouts.’

‘Before you met
your husband?’

‘No, later. I
met Michel after the Battle of Busaco.’ She paused to look at Maryanne, as if
wondering whether to tell her any more. ‘I’d been married before. It wasn’t
much of a marriage; we were both too young. We were poor and my parents’ farm
wasn’t big enough to support us all, so when the war started.
 
Joe enlisted.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘Did it
without telling me and then put my name in the ballot to go overseas. I was
lucky.’ She laughed. ‘Or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it.’

‘You became a
camp follower?’

‘Yes. We went
to the Peninsula. The women stayed in the camp when the troops went off to
fight, and we got on with our work and prayed; there was nothing else we could
do. After the battles the men came back on their own two feet, if they could,
or in carts if they’d been lucky enough to be picked up.’

‘And he didn’t
come back?’ Maryanne could easily feel for the other woman.

‘Not after Busaco.
I did what all the others in the same plight did, I went out to the
battleground to look for him. It was terrible, dead and dying everywhere,
French and Spanish and British all mixed up together.’ She shivered. ‘The smell
and the cries of the wounded made me feel sick, but I was determined to find
him.’