The Makeshift Marriage (36 page)

Sunday arrived, and the carriage came to the main steps to convey everyone to church. Laura stood in the vestibule drawing on her gloves and then picking up her ivory-covered prayerbook. Mrs. Townsend stood primly nearby, her hands clasped neatly before her and her eyes deliberately averted from all possibility of meeting Laura’s glance. Nicholas and Augustine had not come down, but already Laura could hear Augustine’s rippling laughter.

They descended the staircase together, Augustine leaning so close to him that it was as if she would be part of him. Her beauty was breathtaking, and Nicholas appeared to find her enchanting. She wore a striking pink pelisse that should have clashed most dreadfully with her red hair but somehow managed to look quite perfect. The tassels on her military-style hat trembled a little, and the military theme, so fashionable after Waterloo, was echoed by the epaulets on her shoulders and the hussar braiding on the bodice of her pelisse. But if she had chosen a martial theme in her clothing, there was nothing martial in her demeanor; she was feminine, adorable
—and adoring. Her hand rested lightly on Nicholas’s sleeve and her whole body seemed to curve against him. Laura turned away, feeling very drab in her demure lilac pelisse. She was a moth compared with this entrancing butterfly.

Augustine kept up a gay rattle of conversation as the carriage drew away from the house. Her arm was linked through Nicholas’s and they sat facing Laura and Mrs. Townsend. Laura said nothing; indeed she had no need, for Augustine had enough to say for all of them. Laura’s face was a mask to hide her innermost self during that short but dreadful journey, and only when the carriage crossed the bridge over the River Parrett did any emotion show briefly, an echo of that terrible fear…
.
But then the bridge was behind them and they were driving up the long hill toward Langford church, and another of Tobias Claverton’s interminable, flat sermons.

The carriage halted by the lych-gate and Nicholas handed the three ladies down. Laura was last and he held her hand firmly, making her look at him. “Have you nothing to say this morning?”

“I did not notice a suitable lull in the chatter.”

“There is no need to be sullen.”

She drew her hand away. “And there is no need for her to be quite so vulgarly obvious. It surprises me that you could find her to your taste
—but then I suppose you’ve revealed yourself to be most susceptible to flattery.”

His eyes were angry. “This mood ill becomes you, madam.”

“Oh, forgive me,” she said acidly. “I am so sorry that I do not find her as enthralling as you do.” She walked past him, pushing open the lych-gate and walking up the path. At the church porch she waited, however, for it would not have done to go in alone. As Nicholas and Augustine strolled slowly along the path, Mrs. Townsend following in their wake, Laura wondered if he would go so far as to enter the church with Augustine, leaving his wife to her own devices.

Augustine obviously wondered the same, and her eyes flashed angrily as he offered his arm to Laura. Slowly Laura slipped her hand over his sleeve, then he removed his hat, and they entered the cool mustiness of the church.

His appearance caused a stir in the congregation, for this was the first time that he had left King’s Cliff since his return from Venice. The savage changes at King’s Cliff were already fast becoming old news, and as few had suffered by them, most were only too prepared now to greet him with a polite nod of the head. There was curiosity too, of course, for everyone was still wondering about the rumors concerning Laura and Daniel Tregarron
—rumors that were being whispered even now, for Daniel was in the congregation. He turned as Nicholas and Laura approached their pew, and he inclined his head only at Laura, winning a smile from her. That small exchange was witnessed by everyone in the church, including Nicholas.

They took their places in their pew. Across the aisle James Grenville sat stiffly in his own place. He ignored Nicholas and Laura, but smiled and bowed his head to Augustine and her mother. Laura knelt to pray, shutting everything out and retreating into her own little shell. It was her only defense.

She remembered little of the service, except that Tobias Claverton surpassed himself, droning on and on about a particularly obscure text that interested no one but himself
—and, of course, his kinswoman, the Countess of Bawton. To everyone’s disappointment, the Duke of Gloucester had returned to London, so Langford church was never honored with the royal presence—for which fact Laura did not think it had suffered in any way!

The sunshine was bright and dazzling after the dim atmosphere of the church, and Tobias duly waited at the porch to greet his departing flock. He swiftly engaged Nicholas, and therefore Augustine and her mother as well, Laura deliberately strolled slowly on, not wishing to join them, and it was then that she saw Daniel again. He stood in the shade of one of the large yew trees, and he smiled at her. She hesitated only a moment, for she knew that her next action would anger Nicholas greatly, but somehow after his conduct with Augustine, she did not really care. She went to Daniel.

He held her eyes for a long moment before speaking. “I waited for you on Thursday.”

“I did not say that I would come.”

“No. But you considered, didn’t you?”

She lowered her eyes. “No.”

“I know a fib when I hear one,” he said softly. “You considered closely, and you almost came. I watched you in church
—you and he did not even exchange a glance, and yet he frequently leaned to whisper to Miss Townsend. He even sat closer to her than he did to you.”

“You tell me nothing I do not already know.”

“Maybe I don’t, but you seem to need prompting to face it for what it means as far as you are concerned. He wants her, Laura, and he could not make it more plain to the world if he tried.”

“Please don’t say any more.”

“I love you, Laura. I promised you that I would pursue you, and so I will. You defy him by speaking to me now, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will go on hoping that you come to me. I will go to Langford Woods each day at the same time from now until the day I leave for America, and one day you will be there too, I know that you will.”

She could see in his eyes all the love and warmth she so wished to see in Nicholas’s eyes.

“Oh, Laura,” he whispered, “if only you knew how I would like to take you in my arms now and kiss you and proclaim to them all that I love you.” He glanced beyond her then to where Nicholas stood watching. “I will leave you now, before your husband feels he has cause to upbraid you publicly. But remember, Laura, I will be there every day. Just come to me; let me give you all my love. Let my love wash away all the hurt he has caused you.” He smiled just once more before taking his leave of her
—a tall, elegant figure in mulberry coat and dark gray trousers.

Augustine watched, the satisfaction she felt showing only in the small curve on her lips. She no longer felt unsure of Nicholas as she had done before going to Taunton, for it was quite obvious that the distance between husband and wife was as great as before, if not greater. Since her return, Nicholas had been attentive, and he had virtually ignored Laura. He believed his wife committed adultery with Daniel Tregarron, and her present behavior did nothing to dispel that belief.

James Grenville emerged from the church, brushing so close that he almost touched Augustine’s skirts, and her smile faded into fear as she met his eyes. Suspicion stared at her from his pudgy face, and she was afraid. She felt his web around her, forcing her now where once she played a clever game of her own, treading the delicate path between cousin and cousin, determined to gain everything
she
wanted. James Grenville was not a man to toy with; he was dangerous and capable of great evil. She shuddered a little, a shiver of revulsion as she remembered lying in his arms, submitting to his kiss in that hostelry in Taunton.

The pleasantries with Tobias Claverton were over at last, and Nicholas handed the ladies into the carriage once more. Again Laura was last, and he detained her, his fingers tightening roughly over hers, hurting just a little. “I will see you when we return, madam!” he said icily. “Alone!”

She snatched her hand away and climbed into the carriage without his help.

* * *

She faced him in the library.

“You deliberately disobeyed me this time, madam!” he snapped.

“At least he is able to be civil to me.”

“And I’m expected to believe that that is
all
he is to you?”

She stared at him. “How dare you,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “How
dare
you say that to me!”

“I have the right to say anything I wish to you, madam, and in any way I see fit!”

She struck him then, her fingers stinging bitterly across his cheek. He seized her wrist in an iron
-
like grip and a sob caught in her throat as she twisted to be free of him, pressing close momentarily in her efforts so that her face was close to his, their lips almost touching.

Very slowly he released her.

Her cheeks were wet with tears as she turned to run from the room. He stood dejectedly where he was, the jealousy and anger that had urged him on evaporating suddenly, leaving him feeling nothing but emptiness. He was struggling against the inevitable, for in the end she would go to Daniel. In the churchyard her face had been hidden, but Daniel’s love for her had been written so very clearly on his.

* * *

That same unfortunate day Mr. McDonald and his assistants returned to King’s Cliff, bringing with them a train of heavy, lumbering wagons, which trundled through Langford and then along the lower road toward the Home Farm. They conveyed all manner of items, from spades to wood for shoring up the rhines, and their passage was greeted with great interest. Throughout the afternoon, more and more wagons arrived, regardless of the fact that it was the Sabbath, and toward nightfall great stacks of timber had appeared along the firm land edging the marsh. Word spread like wildfire throughout the neighborhood, for those who had not witnessed the convoys of wagons soon learned of what was happening when Mr. McDonald sent out his men to begin taking on the necessary five hundred laborers. When darkness fell, Langford and the surrounding area buzzed with excitement, and many families prepared for their menfolk to go out to King’s Cliff Moor the following morning.

Mr. McDonald intended to lodge at the Home Farm, but as Mr. Dodswell had still not returned from the secret business Nicholas had dispatched him to attend to, the Scot was only too pleased to accept when Nicholas invited him to dine at King’s Cliff that night.

Laura could hardly be expected to look forward to the occasion. She had remained in her room after her violent confrontation with Nicholas, weeping long and hard, and not even Kitty’s gentleness could soothe away the tears. At last, as darkness began to descend and the hour approached to dress for dinner, the weeping stopped, and she reluctantly allowed Kitty to dress her. This time she had to resort to a great deal of powder to hide her tear-stained eyes, but at least in candlelight it would not be quite so obvious. She dressed simply in her apricot lawn, choosing her favorite shawl and declining even to wear her black velvet ribbon at her throat. She was entirely unadorned, except for Nicholas’s ring on her finger. As she slowly descended the staircase, however, her only thought was a fervent hope that in the morning the letter carrier would bring word from Lady Mountfort.

The dinner endured, there was a further ordeal for Laura in the music room. Augustine sang beautifully; her voice was light and melodic and there was not even the vaguest hint of an uncertain note. Her long, pale fingers moved effortlessly over the keys of the piano and the jewels in her hair sparkled in the flickering candlelight. The rest of the room was indistinct, the dusky blue curtains lost their color in the darkness, and the furniture cast long, black shadows over the floor.

Nicholas leaned on the piano watching her as she sang. She wore a gown so very
décolleté
that on most women it would have looked shameless, but as always with Augustine, it simply looked breathtaking. He gave her his undivided attention and there might as well have been no one else in the room but the two of them.

Laura sat on a sofa, her fan folded in her hands, her eyes downcast. He had not said more than two or three words to her throughout the evening, ignoring her so pointedly that even Mr. McDonald was embarrassed. The engineer sat opposite to her now, fidgeting a great deal and now and then taking a surreptitious look at his watch. The candlelight picked out the red in his sandy hair, giving him a demonic look that did not go at all with his gentle character.

Mrs. Townsend watched her daughter proudly. What mother could not be proud of such a beauty? Such talent, and looks so glorious that a brilliant painter would have begged for the privilege of committing her loveliness to canvas. Mrs. Townsend’s eyes glowed. How could she ever have doubted the wisdom of her daughter’s conduct? She could not fail to achieve her ambition; she would have Nicholas Grenville, and through him the house s
he had craved all her life. And she would slip from the clutches of James Grenville, her character unblemished, her reputation untouched. Augustine was a true Townsend, unconquerable, and destined to achieve her heart’s desire.

The last trilling note of the song died away and Augustine sat back, smiling up at Nicholas as he applauded her. Mrs. Townsend rose to her feet, applauding rapturously, and Mr. McDonald murmured some halfhearted words of praise that passed unnoticed. Laura didn’t move a muscle, and Augustine threw her a scornful, triumphant glance.

Mr. McDonald got up. “I fear I must depart now, Sir Nicholas, for I must rise at dawn to commence work. Thank you for a most
—enjoyable—evening.” He stumbled over the word ‘enjoyable’, for that it certainly had not been.

“I trust you will join us again, sir,” said Nicholas, walking with him to the door.