The Selfless Sister (13 page)

With a heavy-hearted, resigned sigh, Lady Perry continued, ”Well, you can imagine the uproar as the hours went by
—the frantic searching of the woods, everyone beating the bushes, calling for Marianne over and over, searching for a bit of red and gold—you see, Marianne was wearing a red velvet dress that day, trimmed with gold. Finally darkness fell and with it, a chilling, biting cold.” She paused again and shuddered. “Poor Pernelia, by this time she was near-hysterical, frantic with concern. Her baby lost in the woods—dressed in such light clothing it was doubtful she could survive the night. “Lord Belington ordered the entire house searched, of course, every inch, as well as the grounds, but to no avail. It was then that dark suspicions started growing that Gregory was to blame. He had a bad reputation, did he not? All that debauchery in London, all those women. They would not know, as I did, that he had changed, that his wild ways were behind him. Rumors spread quickly that no one but Gregory could have taken little Marianne into the woods...done unspeakable things to her...murdered her and buried her body in a secret grave.

“Not a trace of Marianne was found. Early the next morning an ugly mob formed outside the mansion. Threats of a lynching filled the air. What had been a festive Christmas celebration had now turned frighteningly sinister. Out of fear for Gregory’s life, his parents smuggled him out of the house and off to France. His absence was supposed to be only temporary, of course, until Marianne was found and Gregory’s innocence could be proven. His parents didn’t know they would never see their oldest son again.” Lady Perry’s eyes filled with tears. She paused to dab at them with her lace handkerchief.

Lucinda had a question she was almost afraid to ask. “Felicia, I suppose I shouldn’t even think it, but do you suppose Gregory could possibly have been...?”

“Guilty of killing that little girl?” Lady Perry shook her head slowly, with great conviction. “Never. Gregory had his faults, but he was not a spoiler of little girls, and certainly not a murderer.”

“Then what do you suppose happened?”

With a world-weary shrug, Lady Perry answered, “Who knows? Perhaps Marianne really was kidnapped, by someone. But if I were to guess, I would say the poor child wandered into the woods, then lost her way. Her remains may be found some day, although by now the chances are nil. Pernelia searched for years. The poor woman wandered those woods day after day, year after year but never found a trace. Now age and infirmities have slowed her down.” Felicia’s expression changed to one of mute wretchedness. “Such a tragedy, compounded, of course, when Gregory killed himself.”

“Why did he?” Lucinda asked, “especially if he was innocent. Wouldn’t he have wanted to live to clear his name?”

“One would have thought so, but it was not to be. Six months after Gregory fled to Paris, word was sent the Belingtons that Gregory had put a pistol to his head and taken his life. I needn’t tell you the shock and devastation they felt, as did I.”

“But wasn’t that...?” Lucinda struggled to find the right words “...if he killed himself, wouldn’t that seem to indicate he was guilty?”

“I shall never know his reasons, but I suspect what weighted heavily upon his mind was the knowledge he could not return home.
Hatred ran high throughout the countryside. The most spiteful, venomous things were being said about him. There was talk of a hanging if he dared return. I can imagine how despondent he must have felt—away from home, accused of a heinous crime—so despondent he didn’t want to live.”

Lucinda’s heart went out to her friend. “We’ll say no more. I apologize for bringing the subject up.”

“No, it’s good to talk,” Lady Perry replied. “People wonder why I never married. I never had the least desire to, not after losing Gregory. He was the one love of my life. I knew the day I heard he was dead I would never love again.”

“It’s all so terribly sad,” said Lucinda. “Think of the lives that were affected by the events of that day. Little Marianne’s, of course, but you, also, and Gregory, as well as Lord and Lady Belington...”

“All the Belingtons,” emphasized Lady Perry. “Not just Gregory’s parents, but his entire family were shunned after the tragedy. That included Douglas, of course, and even Alex, who was only one year old when Marianne disappeared.”

“What finally happened to the Belingtons?”

“Their lives were ruined, I’m afraid. From then on, they lived a secluded life and never entertained again. I have heard that both, and especially His Lordship, became extremely bitter toward the end.” Lady Perry forced a smile. “But we shan’t dwell on it further, shall we?”

Lucinda instantly responded, “No! And I’m terribly sorry I have forced you to relive such sad memories.”

Lady Perry smiled benignly. “It’s quite all right. Never think for a moment that I haven’t had a full, happy life, despite losing Gregory. Each day I count my blessings.”

Truly? wondered Lucinda. Perhaps Felicia’s life had not been ruined, as were Lord and Lady Belington’s, but just the same, it was clear she
still lived in the shadow of that terrible day.

Chapter
10

Seated before the fireplace in Ravensbrook’s main salon, Alex Belington raised his eyebrows high when his brother unexpectedly appeared, his clothes wet and muddy. “Douglas, home so soon? Didn’t you just leave? Didn’t you bring your carriage? I cannot believe you would ride a horse all the way from London in this rain.”

“It’s been a month
since I was here.” Douglas, threw his greatcoat aside, strode to the fire and thrust his hands toward the flames. “Will you bring me a brandy, Carter,” he called to the butler. “That was a damnably miserable ride. Should have brought the carriage. Should have brought my valet, instead of—” He was going to say, “departing in haste like an idiot,” but thought better of it. He slung himself into an armchair and started to remove his boots.

Alex looked puzzled. “Only a month? Why are you back so soon? As I recall, you declared in no uncertain terms you would not return for at least six months, if then. Since everything’s running smoothly here...hmm.” A troubled expression filled his eyes. “You haven’t been privy to certain rumors, have you?”

Douglas, busy tugging at his left boot, looked up curiously. “What rumors?”

“Nothing. So why are you here? Don’t tell me you’ve finally become bored with the hedonistic delights of London.”

“Suffice to say, I wanted to come home. Must I explain my every action?”

Alex sniffed
. “You can do as you please as you always do.” He frowned in deep concentration. “Now let’s see, what would most likely bring my brother back to Ravensbrook? Could it be he’s finally decided to put his indolent ways behind him and assume his rightful duties?” Alex cast his brother a meaningful gaze. “As well he should.”

Busy with his boot, Douglas muttered, “Not likely.”

“Then it must be a woman.”

Douglas looked up frowning. “What makes you think that?”

“Because I know you. What else would bring you back in this foul weather to a house you loathe and detest? No, Douglas, you don’t fool me. I can even tell you which woman it is.”

“Can you now?” With a great show of casualness, Douglas settled into his chair, stretching his now bootless feet toward the fire.

“Miss Lucinda Linley.” At his brother’s look of surprise, Alex went on, “Who else? I remember your telling me of your conversation when you met in the woods that day. Whether you realize it or not, there was a certain sparkle in your eye. I noticed it particularly because for once you’d abandoned that usual blasé attitude of yours. Have you seen her since?”

“Once, in London.”

“Ah. So it’s obvious the beautiful Miss Linley has intrigued you even further. Tell me, have you fallen in love with her?”

“Certainly not.”

“What then?”

Douglas stared long into the fire. “I have come home,” he finally said, “to assure myself that I do not care a groat about the aforementioned Miss Linley.”

Alex’s reply was a loud, skeptical snort. “Do you really expect me to believe such nonsense?”

Douglas frowned, annoyed. “Believe it or not, as you see fit.”

“Where in London did you see her?”

“We bumped into each other at Hatchards, quite literally.”

“I suppose you fell all over yourself trying to impress her.”

“On the contrary, I made her angry. Quite unintentionally, of course.”

“So now you’ve returned to Ravensbrook to...to...?” Baffled, Alex asked, “To what? Assure yourself you don’t like her? If that’s the case, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

Silent, Douglas stared into the fire. He did not wish to talk further on the subject of Lucinda Linley, not even to his brother. Why admit his mind had been in a turmoil ever since he’d met the woman, especially since London? What an idiot he’d been, misleading her in Hatchards. What an idiot he was still
—returning to Ravensbrook like some demented fool. Worse, he could produce no semblance of a valid reason why he’d returned, other than the flimsy excuse that he wanted to assure himself he was not enamored of her. No wonder Alex was looking at him that way. He must set his brother straight. “I have no desire to involve myself with any woman—other than Rose, of course.”

“And she doesn’t count.”

“All women count, Alex,” Douglas replied, slightly annoyed. “But I’m sure you grasp my meaning. Rose is a Cyprian. She scoffs at romance, as do I. She would no doubt double up with laughter if I suddenly professed out of the blue that I truly, deeply loved her and wanted to marry her.” Douglas chuckled at the preposterous thought before he continued, “The truth is, I lead a comfortable life and don’t want it changed one iota. I have my lodgings in London. I have my books. There’s Rose, an occasional night at White’s, a trip to Scotland now and then for grouse. I am so content it’s uncanny. In fact, I often wonder, how is it I deserve such bliss? Why, then, would I have the least desire to disrupt my life for a bit of baggage who watches birds?”

Alex regarded him skeptically. “You don’t fool me, you’re as transparent as glass.” His mouth pulled into a sour smile. “Bad enough, one of us has gotten involved with a member of Edgerton’s family. I shudder to think what would happen if we both did.” Having issued his startling statement, Alex sat back and waited for his brother to react.

After a second, in which Alex’s words sank in, Douglas sat straight and asked, “And what, might I ask, are you talking about?”

“I have been meeting in secret with Alethea Linley,” Alex promptly replied. As astonishment spread on his brother’s face, he continued, “In the woods
—whenever we can meet—ah, Douglas, I have fallen madly in love with the darling girl.”

Caught off-guard, Douglas stared wordlessly before he finally managed a quiet, “What sheer folly, Alex. Good God, man, have you gone daft?”

Retaining his calm, as if he’d expected such a reaction, Alex replied, “I’ve not gone daft. I’m aware of the consequences. Belingtons don’t associate with Linleys–that’s all I’ve heard all my life. Well, they do.” He stood and declared, “Edgerton be damned, I shall marry the girl.”

Douglas rose to face him. “The deuce! I shall be dammed if you’ll marry a Linley.”

Alex glared at his brother, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. “I shall marry her! I must marry her!”

“Must?” asked Douglas, grasping the significance of the word immediately.

“Yes, must.” Much subdued, Alex sank back into his chair, his expression one of mute wretchedness. “It was there, in the deep woods...we...we...I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“Oh, my God.” Douglas felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. “Is she...?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. All I know is I shall marry Alethea if we have to run off to Gretna Green. We love each other. When we’re together, when we kiss, it’s like a fire igniting within me, it’s like—”

“You needn’t define passion to me, Alex.” Seeing his brother’s anguish, Douglas contained his anger. “Suffice to say, you will not, under any circumstances, do anything foolish. I need to think. I need
—”

“Think all you want, Douglas, but I warn you, I shall soon take Alethea for my bride, you
—Edgerton—the world—be damned!”

Ah, the passions of youth, Douglas thought as he took note of the bright determination gleaming in his brother’s eyes. Shocked though he was with Alex’s behavior, he felt a close affinity for what he had done. Softly he said, “Can we think on this a few days, Alex? Perhaps we can come up with a reasonable solution.”

“Very well,” Alex replied, clearly relieved Douglas had not, at the very least, cursed him and knocked him flat. “I shall wait, but bear in mind, only for a few days.”

* * *

It was getting close to dinnertime. Lucinda and Alethea sat in the main salon, both busy with their needlework. Lucinda’s mind was distracted. How she dreaded the approaching doomsday hour of eight o’clock! Every night, tension built within her as she contemplated how the family would soon gather in the dining room, heads down, eyes averted. Occasionally someone would make an attempt at a light topic of conversation, but however hard they strived to please Edgerton, it never worked. Every night, no matter what, he subjected his family to his criticism, haranguing, nastiness, and abuse.

How she wished she could be elsewhere, anywhere but here. In fact, she wished she’d never come here in the first place. But then, if she had not come to Ravensbrook, she would never have gotten to know the sweetness of her Aunt Pernelia, or the charming capriciousness of darling Alethea. She would have missed her chance to bird-watch in woods thicker, more beautiful, more filled with birds
—in fact, better in every way—than the woods at home. Then, too, she would not have had those lovely days in London with her new friend, Lady Perry. She had enjoyed herself tremendously, a visit marred only by that incident in Hatchards when she bumped into the insufferable Lord Belington. At least, she kept trying to convince herself he was insufferable. Even now, the memory was most troubling. She had been back at Southfield two weeks now, and for some reason still could not get the man off her mind. What she needed, she supposed, was some distraction, but now it seemed all she had to look forward to was Edgerton’s nightly tirades.

With a heavy sigh, Lucinda carelessly stabbed through the green velvet of her petit-point and pricked her finger. At her small cry of, “Oh!” Alethea gazed up from her own stitching and made a small moué.

“What’s wrong, Lucinda? You’ve been so quiet, ever since you returned from London.”

Lucinda quickly mulled over which of her problems she should disclose and which not. Naturally, she would not discuss Edgerton, who was, after all, Alethea’s father. As for Lord Belington, to discuss him would be to acknowledge his existence, which she did not wish to do.

But before Lucinda had a chance to form her answer, Alethea remarked, “Would you like to hear the latest
on-dit
?”

“Do tell,” Lucinda answered, not enthused. She had never cared for gossip.

“I heard through the servants that Lord Belington is back.”

Despite herself, Lucinda’s heart jumped at the sound of his name. She pretended indifference as she asked, “Is that so unusual?”

“He’s hardly ever home. Who can blame him when the whole countryside has shunned him most of his life?”

Lucinda bent over her embroidery, feigning a great interest in the evenness of her stitches. “I wonder why he came back then.”

“Perhaps he was encouraged by the friendly reception he received at Lady Perry’s ball. Other than that, who knows?. Alex does a fine job of managing the estate. He doesn’t need any help.” They fell silent, stitching on their embroidery until, involuntarily, Lucinda heaved another troubled sigh.

“You’re thinking about dinner, aren’t you?” remarked Alethea. “We’re accustomed to dining with Papa every night, but I can just imagine how difficult it must be for someone who’s not used to Papa’s ways.”

Alethea had opened the gates. Before Lucinda could stop them, her words blurted out. “How could you ever get accustomed to such treatment?” When she realized what she’d said, and how hurtful her words might be, she opened her mouth to apologize, but Alethea spoke first.

“We are accustomed to Papa’s harangues.” A look of sadness crossed her face. “Which, of course, does not make it any less painful. Oh, Lucinda, it’s truly awful!” Alethea looked as though she might burst into tears. “It isn’t so much for myself
—I’m used to Papa’s meanness—but I hate the way he treats Mama, and the way he treats Charles, ordering him about all the time and telling him what a terrible child he is in that cold, nasty way he has. He’s been even worse lately, and I fear it’s my fault. Since he found out about my talking to Alex, he’s been more dreadful than ever.”

“But at least he’ll allow you to go to London for the Season.”

“I suppose, but it isn’t me I’m worried about. I worry about Mama, even though...I hate to say it, but she’s almost a lost cause. You would be hard put to picture how she used to be—jolly, full of high spirits, singing about the house. But now she’s so subdued, like a little mouse, with nothing to say for herself. It’s almost as if she’s given up, he has so crushed her spirits.” She sighed, looking as if the fate of the world lay on her shoulders. “But mainly it’s Charles I’m worried about. I want to do something to help him, but I don’t know what.”

Lucinda could but nod in agreement. “I, too, am concerned,” she replied, glad she could at last openly discuss the matter that had weighed heavily on her mind ever since she’d arrived at Southfield. “Forgive me for being painfully honest, but from what I’ve observed, I fear Edgerton is ruining the child.”
And you, too, dear Alethea
, she thought but refrained from saying.

Alethea’s shoulders slumped. “He’s such a bright little boy, so affectionate and full of fun
—or he was. When he was smaller he never seemed to mind how strict Papa was, or his constant criticism. Lately though...well, you’ve seen for yourself how withdrawn he’s become. It’s never been like him to sulk and be so unfriendly.” She sighed. “If only Papa would ease up—not criticize so much and constantly belittle. It’s terrible, the things he says.”

“I know.” Lucinda’s impulse was not only to whole-heartedly agree, but to pour out her real feelings and tell Alethea she could hardly stand it when Edgerton, in his mean, cold, calculating way, ripped into nearly everyone every night, but most particularly Charles, sometimes driving the boy to tears. But what would be the use? Truly, there was nothing to be done.