The Unexpected Bride (7 page)

‘Nothing to do with you—!’ He broke off and handed the letter over mutely, afraid of the expression on Richard’s face.

Richard read aloud.

Richard crumpled the letter into a ball and hurled it from him. ‘This is outrageous, but it changes nothing
for you, Ffolliot!’ he said evenly. ‘Let me inform you that it becomes you neither as a man nor a brother to attempt to force your sister into marriage to clear your debts. And that would be my opinion whatever my own feelings towards her!’

‘This is terrible,’ said Mrs Ffolliot quietly. ‘If this gets out we are ruined more than just financially.’

‘Didn’t he write “Miss Ffolliot”?’ enquired Penelope suddenly.

‘What does that matter? Yes, he did!’ answered Richard irritably.

‘It matters a great deal. I am Phoebe’s elder by twenty minutes, therefore
I
am Miss Ffolliot. Moreover, Lord Darleston has met me twice, whether he knows it or not!’ said Penelope triumphantly. ‘I’ll marry him, and that will settle Geoffrey’s debt for once and for all!’

‘Penny, you can’t!’ gasped Phoebe in shock. ‘I won’t let you do this for me!’

‘Fiddle,’ said Penelope. ‘I liked the man, when I met him. After all, what can he do? He said “Miss Ffolliot”. If he’d said “Miss Phoebe” it would be different; we’d have to tell him. As it is he won’t know until it’s too late. Which will serve him right for being so arrogant about it! He’d take more care over buying a filly!’

Geoffrey, stunned at first, finally found his tongue. ‘You! What the devil do you think Darleston or any man would want with a blind wench?’

That broke the remnants of Richard’s self-control. He took two swift strides and floored Geoffrey with a savage blow, just as Sarah came in to discover what all the noise was about.

She took in the scene and said delightedly, ‘Oh, well done, Richard! That was a nice flush hit! You drew his cork beautifully!’

‘Sarah! You mustn’t use language like that!’ protested her mother.

‘Oh, but it was! Wasn’t it Penny?’ Sarah defended herself.

‘Well, it did
sound
like a nice flush hit,’ agreed Penelope. ‘But I’ll have to take your word that Geoffrey’s cork has been drawn! Thank you, Richard!’

Geoffrey struggled to his feet, clutching a handkerchief to his streaming nose, and Richard, taking him by the shoulders, thrust him into a chair, saying, ‘If you have any more comments like that, I suggest you keep them under your tongue or I’ll take a horse whip to you!’

‘Penny, no! You can’t marry a near stranger!’ said Mrs Ffolliot weakly.

‘Mama, it’s the only way. If all this gets out we are ruined. Think of Sarah, for heaven’s sake!’ pleaded Penelope.

‘Darling, I can’t let you do it!’

‘Mama, don’t be foolish. I’ll be all right. Darleston is a gentleman, isn’t he, Richard?’ asked Penelope.

‘I’ve always thought so, but I’m beginning to wonder!’ said Richard. ‘Mrs Ffolliot, you mustn’t let her do this. I’ll see Darleston, explain the situation. He won’t force the issue.’

‘No!’ exclaimed Mrs Ffolliot. ‘That would be intolerable.’

‘Besides, I’ll only do it on one condition!’ said Penelope suddenly.

They all turned to her in surprise. She continued quietly to her brother, who listened in something akin
to terror at the note of implacable determination in her voice. ‘You will have the lawyers draw up a trust which gives you access only to the income from the estate and whatever is left in the funds. You will be not be able to touch the capital or sell anything without the consent of Mama and Richard or Phoebe, Sarah and myself as we come of age. Furthermore, if you die without issue then the estate must revert to Sarah!’

‘Me? Why me?’ gasped Sarah.

‘Phoebe and Richard don’t need it and neither will I. Darleston is so wealthy he could buy the whole county, let alone one estate!’ said Penelope bluntly. ‘Well, Geoffrey, those are my terms. If you don’t like them find another way out! And don’t think for a moment that you can bully Phoebe into it!’

Geoffrey stared at her in disbelief. He was caught and he knew it. Penelope’s ultimatum was the only avenue of escape open to him.

‘Damn you! What choice do I have?’ he raged.

‘None that I can think of,’ she answered quietly. ‘Well, do you agree?’

‘Very well!’ He rushed from the room in fury, slamming the door behind him.

‘Mrs Ffolliot, you can’t let her do this!’ protested Richard. ‘The whole idea is repugnant! She barely knows him!’

‘What does that matter? Lots of marriages are arranged,’ argued Penelope. ‘And he doesn’t know me! I should have thought you’d be much sorrier for him!’

‘There is that, of course!’ admitted Richard dryly. ‘Nevertheless, this cannot be the only solution!’

‘Probably not, but it does seem the neatest,’ said Penelope. She turned to her mother, ‘Well, Mama?’

‘Penny, are you quite sure? The fourteenth of July is only a matter of weeks away.’

‘Yes, Mama, quite sure.’

G
eoffrey Ffolliot tipped the brandy bottle up over his empty glass. A mere trickle came out. He stared at it blearily, then hurled the bottle from him with a curse as his brandy-fogged mind absorbed the fact that he had finished the bottle. He sniffed self-pityingly. No one cared that he sat drinking alone in his bed-chamber! No one seemed to think that he deserved the slightest sympathy for getting so deeply into debt! And as for that little bitch Penelope! She had used the whole situation to make him sign that blasted deed consigning all control of his property over to the trustees! Damn her!

He groaned, remembering that it was her wedding day tomorrow. Had to give her away, didn’t he? God, he felt sick! Get her out of the house at least! Good thing! Hah! Perhaps Darleston would teach her a thing or two about the respect due to a fellow! Geoffrey gloated over the thought for a moment. Better if it were Jack Frobisher, of course. He’d have known how to deal with the wench! Break her in the same way he’d break a rebellious filly! But it wasn’t Jack; it was Darleston himself!

The memory of those scornful brown eyes boring into him at the Bellingham House ball made him shudder. Needed more brandy if he had to face both of them. Penny and Darleston together! Oh, God, where was the bottle. Finished it, hadn’t he? Better ring for another! No! Old Tinson wouldn’t bring one, most likely. Get it himself! Get two. Lots in the cellar! Go down now!

Geoffrey got to his feet very carefully and stood swaying for a moment. Then with unsteady steps he left the room. Fortunately he was so far gone that he completely forgot to take a candle. Otherwise he would have probably burned the entire house to the ground. As it was he made his stumbling way down to the kitchens, knocking over a number of chairs on the way.

He made it safely down the back stairs and into the kitchen. Now, where was the door to the cellar? Swaying giddily, he tried to get used to the darkness. Finally he thought he could find the door and walked very slowly and unsteadily towards it. His outstretched groping hand met the latch.

Ah! That was it! He pulled the door open. The blackness before him was absolute. Vaguely he thought about a light, but an odd thought of Penelope drifted into his mind. Didn’t need a light! If that stupid wench could manage, then so could he!

He took one step down into the yawning blackness. No! He would need a light. Have to find the brandy, down there! Penelope wouldn’t need to find the brandy but he did. Therefore, need a light!

It all seemed terribly logical. He swung around sharply, too sharply, and lost his footing. For a split second he teetered on the first step. His arms flailed
wildly, trying to find something to grab and save himself. His fingertips caught the door frame and for a moment he hung there. Then his tenuous hold slipped and with a despairing scream he fell backwards into the waiting dark.

Penelope awoke to birdsong outside her bed-chamber window. She sat up in bed to stretch. For the past weeks she had been waking very early. The days had been so busy that this was the only time she got to think without interruption. Change had come into their lives with a vengeance after so many tranquil years. Tonight only Sarah would sleep in the room the three of them had shared for so long. Phoebe had been married a week ago. This morning she herself would marry the Earl of Darleston.

The ceremony promised to be very different from Phoebe’s wedding, which, although rushed, had been a joyful occasion. Lord Darleston had waved aside the suggestion that he should meet his prospective bride again before the ceremony, though Mrs Ffolliot had insisted that he be given the opportunity to visit. If he had agreed Mrs Ffolliot would have told him everything, depending upon his generosity to accept Penelope openly instead of in the hole-and-corner fashion to which they were reduced. Phoebe therefore, was to remain very much in the background today, to avoid arousing suspicion. This would be helped by the fact that the Earl had requested his bride be prepared to leave almost immediately after the ceremony because of the distance to Darleston Court. This exclusion of her twin was, to Penelope, one of the worst aspects of the whole affair.

She was a country girl and had seen enough farm
animals to understand the mechanics of what marriage involved physically. According to Phoebe’s panegyric it was simply wonderful. Also, from the sound of it, a great deal of kissing was involved. That seemed odd to Penelope. The only occasion on which a man had attempted to kiss her she had not enjoyed at all, except for the dubious pleasure of slapping Mr Frobisher’s face and hearing his yells when Gelert bit him. Mama had told her only that in the marriage bed it was her duty to acquiesce to her husband and that in all probability she would enjoy it. Mrs Ffolliot had based this prophecy upon her own experience of marriage as well as her sneaking suspicion that Darleston was sufficiently experienced to know precisely what he was doing.

Geoffrey, of course, as her nearest male relative was to give the bride away. This, to Penelope, was not a pleasant thought. She felt far more like a sister to Richard Winton than to her own brother, who would have forced Phoebe into the marriage had he been able to get away with it.

Richard was such a contrast to Geoffrey. He was still shocked that Mrs Ffolliot was permitting the marriage to go ahead. Perhaps Penelope’s likeness to his own bride had increased his sensitivity to the situation, but he had bowed to Phoebe’s knowledge of her sister.

Phoebe had said thoughtfully, ‘Penny has hated being blind, or nearly so, because she feels a burden to us rather than because it inconveniences her. Now she feels that she is doing something to help us. Also it has voluntarily brought her out of her seclusion, which is probably better than us trying to winkle her out by stealth.’

Mrs Ffolliot had concurred with this opinion, when
Richard had protested on the grounds of Darleston’s approach to the whole business, saying, ‘Darleston has been betrayed by one woman and treated very badly by one member of the Ffolliot family, yet he said in his letter that he had formed an agreeable impression of ‘Miss Ffolliot’. Phoebe tells me that she barely spoke to him when he stood up with her, so I suspect any impression was made by his meetings with Penny. From that point of view we are not cheating him, and I have every confidence in Penny’s ability to handle him. Losing her sight has made her very sensitive to people’s moods and natures. She can tell more from a person’s voice in one brief encounter than I can in several.’

‘She will have her work cut out with Darleston, ma’am. He seems made of ice these days!’ ‘Richard had answered. ‘I wish you will reconsider! He may be furious!’

‘Penny described him as charming,’ was all Mrs Ffolliot had said.

Penelope, of course, knew nothing of these discussions, but she had an idea that at least initially his lordship was going to be very angry when he was told about the switch. Richard had wanted to do it, but Penelope had said firmly that since it would be her husband and her marriage she would prefer to break the news herself. As she lay in bed she wondered how she was going to raise the subject. Obviously the change of name had not meant anything to Darleston. Perhaps he had never known what ‘Miss Ffolliot’s’ Christian name was. Well, she would simply have to tell him the whole sordid story.

What really worried her was having to tell him that she was very nearly blind. Penelope hated being pitied.
The mere thought that he might pity her was galling. She would have to make it very clear that, with Gelert, she could be perfectly independent of his assistance once she knew her way about Darleston Court, which she understood to be huge.

She had got thus far in her ruminations when Sarah, who had been awake for a while but reluctant to disturb her, asked, ‘Penny, are you scared?’

The question forced Penelope to think carefully. Honesty forced her to admit that she was. ‘A little, Sarah. But don’t you dare tell the others!’

‘Why are you doing it, then?’

‘Being scared is not a reason not to do something,’ said Penelope.

‘Don’t be an idiot, Penny!’ said Sarah. ‘You don’t even know him. It’s hardly necessary to get married just to prove you aren’t scared!’

Penelope hesitated. ‘Sarah, we have tried not to talk about all this in front of you, but what Geoffrey did was very dreadful. He wrongly and publicly accused Lord Darleston of cheating and then cheated himself. The debt must be paid somehow. The scandal is already appalling. It could hurt Mama, Phoebe and you. I can stop all that by marrying Darleston.’

‘Will he be very cross with you when you tell him?’

‘I hope not, but if he is I dare say it will not be for long,’ said Penelope, with a convincing display of confidence that she was far from feeling. ‘Now, that’s enough questions for the bride! Isn’t it time to get up?’

‘Yes, my lady!’ answered Sarah, and was obliged to dodge a well-aimed pillow.

Tinson came downstairs especially early that morning, just as he had for Miss Phoebe’s wedding a week ear
lier. All the Ffolliot girls were close to his heart, but Miss Penelope was perhaps the dearest. He was quite determined that nothing and no one should be allowed to spoil her wedding day.

He was fully aware that Master Geoffrey had been drinking late the night before, and it had occurred to him that the boy would need sobering up before church. When Tinson reached the kitchen, prepared to make some very strong coffee, he found the housekeeper, Mrs Jenkins, and Mrs Ffolliot’s abigail, Susan, there before him.

As he entered Susan said, ‘Here’s Mr Tinson! He’ll remember!’

‘Remember what?’ asked Tinson.

‘The cellar door,’ replied Mrs Jenkins. ‘I’m sure it was shut before we went upstairs last night. But it’s open now, or have you been down already this morning?’

Tinson shook his head and looked at the open door. ‘No, Mrs Jenkins, I have not. And, yes, the cellar door was shut. I shut it myself.’

Susan nodded. ‘There now! That’s just what I said to Mrs Jenkins! “Depend upon it,” I said. “Mr Tinson shut it. I saw him with my own eyes!” I said.’

Tinson shrugged and said, ‘No doubt the master came and helped himself to another bottle of brandy later on. I’d better see what sort of a mess he’s made down there. Fetch me a light, please, Mrs Jenkins!’

She went into the scullery and returned with an oil lamp already lit. Tinson took it with a word of thanks and ventured through the door. He had only descended a few steps when the yellow glow of the lamp revealed Ffolliot’s body lying sprawled at the foot of the steps.

His gasp of horror brought Mrs Jenkins and Susan through the door behind him.

‘Oh, my goodness!’

‘Is he dead?’

Tinson didn’t bother to reply, except for a terse, ‘Stay here!’ but got down the steps as quickly as he could. He bent over his master and felt for the pulse in his throat. Slowly he straightened and looked up at the two women, shaking his head.

They stared at him as he came back up. The three of them went back into the kitchen, which was otherwise still empty.

‘What will the mistress say?’ asked Susan in shocked tones. ‘And it’s Miss Penny’s wedding day and all! Why, she mightn’t be able to get married today at all with this nasty business!’

Mrs Jenkins and Tinson exchanged a long glance. The rest of the staff would have informed any outsider that these two frequently disagreed. Despite this they were good friends and old allies, and there was one subject upon which they had but a single mind. Miss Penny was the finest, bravest lass you could wish for and they would have given their lives to spare her distress.

‘Shut the door, Mr Tinson,’ said Mrs Jenkins quietly. He nodded and did so.

Turning to Susan, he confirmed her sudden suspicion. ‘Nothing is going to spoil Miss Penny’s day! Say nothing to the mistress or to anyone! We’ll lock the cellar door and I’ll tell the mistress and Mr Winton
after
Miss Penny and her lord have left. I’ll let them think only I knew.’

Susan glared at him and replied, ‘Well, and it’s a good idea, barring the bit about you getting all the
credit for it! Shame on you, Mr Tinson! Mrs Jenkins and I aren’t scared to own up! Are we, ma’am?’

‘Not likely!’ came the staunch reply. ‘Silly old fool!’

As Lord Darleston was driven in his well-sprung chaise towards the church from the inn at which he had put up the night before, he wondered if he had taken leave of his senses. Certainly George Carstares, his groomsman, seemed to think so. He had protested vehemently when Darleston had first told him what he meant to do, the day Mrs Ffolliot’s polite letter accepting his offer had arrived.

‘For God’s sake Peter, this is sheer persecution. Why, the girl may be in love with someone else but feel obliged to marry you! What if you take one another in dislike? She may be a dead bore, or find you a dead bore.’

‘She’s not a dead bore,’ had said his lordship indignantly. ‘I admit I thought her a little dull the first time I met her, but I dare say she was minding her dance steps. On the other two occasions that I met her she was very lively and showed a good understanding. You were the one who advised me to marry the first eligible girl I could talk to rationally! Besides, I like her dog!’

George had spluttered in his indignation at being cited as an influence in Peter’s decision. ‘What a wonderful basis for proposing to a girl! If you can call it a proposal! I made a joke and you like her
dog?
It’s to be hoped the dog likes you, if it’s the size you say it is. It’s probably the one that mauled your cousin when he stayed with Ffolliot.’

Peter had remained silent. Not even to George could
he admit that he had still been as drunk as a wheelbarrow when he wrote to Geoffrey Ffolliot and that he had been completely and utterly dumbfounded when he received an acceptance of his offer.

Carstares had been rather silent this morning since they’d got up at the inn. He had done his best to dissuade his friend from what he thought must be a disastrous step but he could do no more on that head. Now he shrugged mentally and said, ‘Well, Peter, I suppose I should stop being such a prophet of doom. I hope it will all work out for you and I hope you know I’ve only spoken out because I care about you. All the same, I wish you would tell me why you are getting married like this.’