The Makeshift Marriage (34 page)

Nicholas was silent for a moment. “I confess that I
hadn’t
realized the extent of her labors here, but that cannot alter the fact that if I loved her once, I do not love her now.”

“Why?”

“You have many faults, Charles, but deafness to rumor is not one of them. Do you deny that you have heard whispers about my wife and Daniel Tregarron?”

The agent looked away. “No,” he said at last, “I do not deny that I have heard, but that is not to say I believe them.”

“I have evidence enough to know that they are lovers.”

“Evidence?”

“Her tale of her horse bolting and leaving her in Langford Woods where Tregarron
happened
to find her was merely to mask the fact that she went there solely to keep a meeting with him. One of my gamekeepers saw them lying in each other’s arms
—and they were not admiring the flora and fauna, I promise you! I need no further proof of her infidelity. I married her because I had fallen in love with her, but I know now that she has always regarded the match as purely one of convenience. There is no surer remedy for lovesickness, I do assure you, Charles.”

“Have you ever given her cause to believe the marriage was anything but a temporary affair as far as you were concerned? I believe the impression she has had all along was that it was at best a makeshift affair, which you would terminate when you saw fit, so that you could then marry the woman you really love
—Miss Townsend. By your own actions you could have
driven her to turn to Daniel Tregarron, who is a man of passion and whose desire for her I believe to have been aroused from the outset. When I first met her, Sir Nicholas, I would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that her heart was given to you and that she felt nothing beyond friendship for him.”

“Then it is obvious that her affections have undergone a considerable change, is it not? There is no mistaking her actions now and I find her sins quite unforgivable. She has committed adultery, not with a stranger, but with the man I once thought of as my best friend. I cannot and will not forgive, and that must be the end of this discussion. I do not wish you to mention the subject of my marriage again, Charles.”

The agent reluctantly inclined his head. “Very well, I will of course respect your wishes, but just one last thing I think I should tell you
—I believe it is her intention to soon leave King’s Cliff.”

Nicholas turned sharply away, his knuckles gleaming white as he clenched his glass. Bitter anger burned in his eyes. No doubt she was leaving with Daniel Tregarron…
.
God damn them both to hell! God
damn
them!

Slowly Charles Dodswell put down his own glass. “If there is no other business to discuss, I will take my leave of you.”

Nicholas turned back again. “No, Charles, there
is
something else I wish to speak of, something very important and nothing at all to do with what we have just finished speaking of. You may think me unhinged for what I am about to tell you, but I wish you to hear me out. Then I wish you to do what you can to find out if my surmise is correct. It will mean you leaving King’s Cliff for a while, but it must be done.”

“I am at your disposal, Sir Nicholas, as always I am.”

“I am very much afraid that it concerns what almost befell me in Venice at the hands of a certain Austrian gentleman…
.
”

* * *

While Nicholas was speaking, Laura was in the landau heading toward Langford. The carriage moved swiftly past Daniel’s house, but there was no thought in her head of visiting him, and the coachman tooled the team down the long hill towards the narrow bridge spanning the River Parrett.

It was a fine day and the hoods were down. Laura’s parasol fringe trembled in the warm breeze, and the ribbons of her Leghorn bonnet streamed behind her. She wore a chestnut spencer and a walking dress of sea-green merino, and she smiled as she thought of Kitty’s tearful delight on hearing the good news about her father.

The coachman’s whip cracked and the team gathered speed. Laura gripped the side of the landau in sudden fear as the carriage rattled and swayed over the narrow bridge, reminding her that once before this same coachman had almost caused the wheels to touch the parapet, which would have caused a terrible accident. In a blur she noticed the faces of some men sitting on the bank by the bridge, among them the Tibdale brothers. But then the carriage was safely over and pulling up the hill toward the church where she had been subjected to such cruel snubs by the Countess of Bawton and her followers.

Frank Roberts’s small cottage lay beyond the church. It was neatly whitewashed, its upper windows peeping out beneath a low thatch that had recently been repaired. A hedge surrounded the little front garden, rising to an arch above the gate, and from the gate a cinder path led to the porch, which was covered by a rambling rose of such splendor that she immediately guessed it had originally come from King’s Cliff.

She alighted and walked up the narrow path, noticing the neat vegetables growing on one side and on the other the glorious display of Frank Roberts’s brilliance
—his flower garden. It was a riot of summer colors, and the air was heady with the perfume of pinks and sweet peas, while the tall spikes of lupins added their own peculiar grace to a garden which seemed to have been planted haphazardly but was in fact carefully laid out to achieve the finest show imaginable. Laura could understand only too well why the services of such a talented gardener had been so earnestly sought after by the Countess of Bawton.

The door was opened by a plump woman in a plain blue gown and crisp white apron. Frank Roberts’s wife stared at her illustrious visitor, adjusting her clean mobcap before managing a belated curtsy. “M-my lady?”

“Who is it, Ann?” A man’s voice called from inside.

“It’s Lady Grenville, Frank.”

“What? Then show her in, show her in, you daftie
—!”

“P
—please come in, my lady.”

Laura smiled. “Thank you.”

She stepped into a low room that smelled faintly of paraffin, for Ann Roberts had only shortly before finished cleaning and polishing the little windows. Flowery curtains hung at those same windows, and the table in the center of the room was scrubbed so well that it was almost white. The floor was tiled in red and there were low beams on the ceiling, from which strings, of onions, dried fruit, and bunches of herbs were suspended.

Frank Roberts sat before the oven, his broken leg stretched out carefully on a three-legged stool, and as he made to get to his feet Laura hastily stopped him. “Please do not rise, Mr. Roberts, for there is no need.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Lady Grenville. I cannot offer you fine brandy or anything like it, but I can offer you some good elderberry wine.”

“Frank!” His wife felt uncomfortable, doubting very much whether a fine lady would enjoy such a country brew.

Laura smiled at her. “I would very much like to taste your wine, for I am sure it is delicious.”

“It is,” said Frank. “It certain sure is.”

Laura waited until the glasses had been carefully taken down from the corner cupboard where all the best china was carefully displayed, and when she had been given her wine, she told them why she had come.

“I will not delay a moment, Mr. Roberts; I have come to tell you that you have no need to worry anymore
—your post at King’s Cliff awaits your return.”

He closed his eyes with obvious relief, and his wife’s eyes filled with tears, which she dabbed with the corner of her apron.

“Lady Grenville,” he said at last, his voice shaking with emotion, “you don’t know how glad I am to hear those words.”

“Oh, I think I do know, Mr. Roberts.”

“And to think that you should take the trouble to come here yourself
—”

“I very much appreciated the tulips you gave me, Mr. Roberts, and does not one good turn deserve another?” A movement caught her eye and she glanced toward a chair in a corner to see Kitty’s little brother and sister peeping out at her, their eyes huge.

“Off with you now,” called their mother. “You’ve your tasks to do and shall not be idle!”

Giggling, they scrambled to their feet, their little boots pattering on the tiled floor as they ran out into the garden.

“They are lovely children, Mrs. Roberts,” said Laura. “You must be proud of your family.”

The countrywoman swelled with delight. “Oh, that I am, my lady. As proud as you’ll be when you have children.” She immediately flushed then, for she knew from Kitty that all was far from well between Sir Nicholas Grenville and his wife.

Frank took a long breath. “I’ll be more than delighted to get back on my feet and back at King’s Cliff, Lady Grenville. I had my doubts anyway about going to the countess. King’s Cliff is where I belong. Mind, I’d thought I would be working indirectly for King’s Cliff again soon anyway, when my leg’s healed.”

“Indirectly?”

“On the gangs when the marsh is drained. It’s to happen soon, isn’t it?”

“It is, but I hadn’t realized that word was out already. Mr. Dodswell has only just heard from Mr. McDonald.”

He smiled. “Lady Grenville, the folks in Langford knew the moment a letter was sent to Mr. McDonald in the first place
and
what it said in it. We’ve known that there’s to be work for nigh on five hundred and it’s news that has been greeted with great delight, I can tell you.”

“Except by them Tibdales,” said his wife.
“They
reckon on undoing all the work that’s done each day on King’s Cliff Moor once it starts. Got short shrift and all. Folks want work, not starvation.”

Her husband nodded sagely. “Reckon that the changes at King’s Cliff didn’t go down too well when they were first heard, but there’s more who know it was right than there are those like the Tibdales who disagree. King’s Cliff doing well can only be of benefit to the folks around here.” He raised his glass. “Will you drink a toast with me, Lady Grenville?”

She smiled. “Of course.”

“I say it as much for King’s Cliff as for my own small dwelling. Here’s to this old house; may the roof never fall in and those inside never fall out.”

Laura drank the wine, savoring its delicate and elusive flavor. In its way it was as fine as any grand vintage from the vineyards of France.

She left a little later, and as she went down the little path she noticed that there were some clouds in the sky now and the coachman had raised the landau’s hood. She waved once to Ann Roberts, who stood by her gate, her two small children clinging to her apron as they watched the grand carriage draw away, wheels crunching and harness jingling, the teams’ hooves striking sparks from the cobbled road.

Laura leaned her head back against the upholstery, gazing out at the passing buildings as the carriage moved down toward the bridge. How good it would be to spend the rest of her life in this part of England. If only Nicholas could love her as she loved him, then this would indeed by a heaven on earth…
.

The coachman urged the team on to the bridge, gathering speed once again as he did so, and there was a sudden grating noise, a splintering crack, and the carriage was jerked violently sideways. Beyond her own scream she heard the team whinnying in terror and the coachman’s frightened shouts. The world seemed to spin and everything went black.

She could hear water gurgling very close by. Slowly she opened her eyes and found herself looking at the river, passing barely a few feet away directly below her, the long weeds waving seductively in the current. A cold fear touched her, for she was pressed against the door on the landau, and only the fact that the coachman had so providentially raised the hoods had saved her from certain death.

The carriage trembled slightly and she could hear men’s voices nearby. Someone was by the other door, almost directly above her, and she stared up as the handle was moved and someone raised the door to
look in. She almost wept with relief to see Daniel looking down at her.

“Laura, are you all right?”

“I think so,” she replied shakily.

“You’ve been unconscious for almost a quarter of an hour, but I did not dare to climb in to you. Whatever you do, don’t move, for it will not take much to tip the carriage the final few feet into the river
—only the strength of about ten Langford men has held it safe until now.”

Trembling with fear, she nodded. “I won’t move.”

“They will be able to hold it for a little longer, long enough for me to reach down to you. I want you to take my hand and let me draw you up. Don’t struggle at all, just trust me.” He smiled at her.

“I’ve always trusted you, Daniel.”

Stretching in as far as he dared, he reached down to her, gripping her tightly around the wrist and pulling her steadily but surely toward him. She vaguely heard someone cheer as he lifted her out of the landau and then carried her to safety just as the men holding the vehicle could detain it no longer. With a shattering, splintering shudder, the landau slid into the river, striking the water with a great splash that scattered droplets over Laura as Daniel put his arms around her and held her close.

Men leaned over the bridge to watch as the river swamped the carriage, and the water, so clear a moment before, was now brown with mud stirred up from the bed.

Laura felt quite weak. “What happened, Daniel? Did the wheel strike the bridge?”

“I am afraid that that was but part of it.”

“Part?”

“The main cause of the accident was the team being frightened by the two Tibdale brothers. It was a deliberate action, and they knew you were in the carriage.”

She stared at him as the full import of what he was saying was borne in on her. She had come so close to death and it had not been an accident?

“It was witnessed, Laura, and you now have friends enough here for the culprits to be apprehended. The parish constable is even now taking them to be locked up. They will not escape justice this time as they have escaped so many times in the past.”