Three Little Secrets (11 page)

“I know nothing
to
tell you,” said Eliza earnestly. “But sometimes when a body goes poking about, they find things, ma’am. Just be sure…just be sure you are ready to find them. That’s all.”

Madeleine let her gaze fall to the folded letter. “It is not Florette’s fate which concerns me now,” she said quietly. “I need, Eliza, to find some papers. I am hoping I shall find them in Papa’s things.”

“Papers, ma’am?” Eliza snapped the wrinkles from Madeleine’s nightdress, and hung it in the wardrobe. “What sort of papers?”

Madeleine felt her cheeks grow warm. “A legal document to do with my annulment,” she quietly admitted. “The papers which ended my marriage to Mr. MacLachlan.”

“Oh,” said Eliza quietly. “I see.”

She busied herself by rifling through Madeleine’s wardrobe. From time to time, she would pull out a gown, study it, and put it back in again, but Madeleine got the feeling Eliza was not really looking at them. “Are you and Mr. Geoffrey still to take tea with Lady Treyhern?” she finally asked.

“Yes, and then we are to walk together in Hyde Park,” said Madeleine.

“Which dress will you be wanting, ma’am?”

“The dark blue silk, I daresay,” said Madeleine, rising from her desk.

She went to her small dressing table, and began to comb out her hair. Ordinarily, Eliza would have come at once to assist her, but this morning, strangely, she did not. Instead, she was rearranging Madeleine’s shoes in the bottom of the wardrobe. Madeleine gave an inward shrug, and went on to twist up her hair, vaguely wondering what had got into Eliza, whose mind was so decidedly elsewhere.

Five o’clock, Lady Treyhern explained, was the fashionable time to see and be seen in Hyde Park. At that anointed, all-important hour, anyone who was anyone in society would drive out in their high-perch phaetons, or stroll languidly about with their finest parasols, whilst looking deeply, desperately bored.

“But Geoff and I do not know anyone in Town,” explained Madeleine, as they stepped off the pavement at Oxford Street. “Perhaps you really
shall
be bored?”

Lady Treyhern laughed her light, tinkling laugh, and linked her arm through Madeleine’s. “You must remember to call me Helene, my dear,” she said. “And we go not to be seen, but to quietly watch young Geoffrey, and to have a pleasant chat, yes?”

Geoff was walking some paces ahead of them with Lady Ariane Rutledge’s hand lying lightly on his coat sleeve. Lady Ariane was a slight, almost fairylike creature, and seen thus together, one could almost imagine them a couple—until Geoff turned around, and the boyish innocence of his features belied his height. Nonetheless, the two had fashioned a friendship of sorts. They played at chess and cards together, and sometimes exchanged books. Lady Ariane was bored to tears in Town, Helene explained, and her three half siblings were still very young. A friend of Geoff’s age was a welcome distraction.

“She begged to be brought out this year,” Helene confided. “She will be seventeen in a few weeks’ time. But my husband would not hear of it. Not this year, he says, and quite probably not next year, either. Ariane thinks him utterly draconian.”

“No, your husband is very wise,” said Madeleine fervently. “You must not let her persuade him.”

Helene shot her a sidelong glance. “You think not?”

“Seventeen is much too young,” Madeleine answered. “Far better she should enjoy two more years of her family’s protection. She will have time to mature, and learn the ways of the world. She will be much less likely to…well, to do something foolish.”

Madeleine had not meant to speak with such vehemence, but Helene was looking at her rather pointedly. “You sound as if you speak from experience,” said her new friend. “But no! Do not tell me! I, too, was quite shockingly foolish at seventeen.”

“Not as foolish as I was,” said Madeleine quietly.

Again, Helene laughed, but the sound was faintly bittersweet. “Oh, my dear, I should sooner die than tell you what I did,” she murmured. “Suffice it to say that I fell in love, inappropriately so.”

“As did I,” Madeleine admitted.

Helene gave a Gallic shrug. “Ah, well, I was very fortunate in the end,” she said. “It all turned out the best for me. What of you, my dear? Did things…work out?”

Madeleine blushed, and shook her head. “They did not,” she confessed. “Indeed, they could hardly have ended worse. That is why, I think, that I sometimes…well, I sometimes blame myself for Geoffrey’s imaginings and melancholia.”

“Why, whatever can you mean?”

Madeleine looked away. “The months of my pregnancy were not happy ones for me,” she said softly. “I—I was not well. I felt very alone, and quite despondent. I believe that my—my grief must have somehow affected him. They say, you know, that such things can happen.”

“Nonsense!” said Helene briskly. “A child cannot be marked in the womb, my dear, by what one sees or feels, and I beg you will not continue to think so. You cannot help Geoffrey if you succumb to tarradiddles and old wives’ tales. You must believe only in the practical and the scientific.”

“You are so clear-thinking and so certain,” said Madeleine. “I wish I could be more so.”

Again, the casual shrug. “With age, my dear, comes wisdom,” she said. “And, regrettably, a variety of sagging body parts. I sometimes wonder if the trade is worth it.”

“You hardly look past thirty,” said Madeleine quite honestly.

“Well, let us speak no further of time’s ravages,” said Helene. “Let us talk instead of young Geoff. How does he go on?”

Madeleine had already told Helene of Geoff’s having locked himself in his room. Since that terrible afternoon, however, his disposition had been even and cheerful, and she told Helene so.

On the pavement ahead, Geoff and Lady Ariane had stopped to watch a man with a pet monkey. The monkey wore a red waistcoat, and was doing tricks in exchange for bits of fruit. Geoff was laughing, his expression carefree.

“He certainly gives every impression of being a happy, normal young man,” mused Helene. “I must tell you frankly, my dear, that in the time I have observed him, he has seemed a most sensible boy.”

“I daresay I should be glad to hear that,” said Madeleine.

“Indeed, you should,” said Helene.

For a time, they walked quietly beside one another. Madeleine did not know what else to say. She could not honestly disagree with her friend’s assessment.

Farther down the street, one could see the Cumberland Gate into Hyde Park. Lady Ariane and Geoff rushed on ahead. Helene, however, did not quicken her pace but slowed it, her brow lightly furrowed.

“I wish that there was something specific I could tell you that might help you deal with your son, Madeleine,” she finally went on. “But I do not think that my opinion of young Geoff will change.”

“You see nothing wrong with him, then?” Madeleine’s voice was hopeful.

“I do not,” said Helene. “He is bright, and he obviously has artistic leanings, but that does not make him fanciful. He is polite, and even a little grown-up for his age. Indeed, I do not think that your son suffers from anything remotely like a mental disease.”

“Do you not?”

“No,” said Helene slowly. “Which leaves only one rather odd possibility.”

Madeleine stopped walking altogether. “And that would be…?”

“That his fears are not unfounded,” said Helene, lifting her elegant shoulders. “What is it, my dear, that Hamlet says to Horatio about ‘things wondrous strange’?”

Madeleine searched her mind. “Why, he says that…that there are stranger things on heaven and earth—”

“—than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” Helene finished. “Yes, yes, that is the one. And perhaps, my dear—just
perhaps
—there is something here which we have not yet dreamt of?”

Madeleine looked at her dubiously. “I cannot imagine what.”

“Nor can I.” Helene’s gaze had turned inward now. “No, nor can I. But I am going to think on it, my dear. I am going to think on it very carefully indeed.”

Ken yourself, and your neighbor
will ne’er mistake ye.

M
errick’s meeting with Lord Treyhern dragged on for the better part of an hour. He had called upon the gentleman at his Mortimer Street town house promptly at five, but the earl had a great many questions, and a vast deal of information to share. Moreover, he was taking his time, Merrick realized, in assessing his prospective business partner’s character.

Treyhern owned a vast amount of property and had options on a great deal more, including twenty building lots near the village of Kensington which he was willing to let on ninety-nine-year ground leases. The earl seemed a meticulous and shrewd businessman. Almost as important was the fact that his home was comfortable but not ostentatious. When it came to the extravagant English aristocracy, Merrick had learned, opulent surroundings usually meant there was a teetering dun heap on some poor bastard’s desk.

“There is one other small matter which I should touch on before we get into more confidential matters,” said, Treyhern some thirty minutes into their conversation. “I like my business done a certain way.”

Merrick frowned. “A certain way?” he echoed. “What way would that be, Treyhern?”

The earl cleared his throat. “Let me be blunt,” he said in a steady voice. “I like things done honestly and aboveboard. I do not believe in riding roughshod over anyone, and I don’t bully people with my purse. You have a reputation, Mr. MacLachlan.”

“Aye, that I do,” answered Merrick. “But not for dishonesty or duplicity.”

Treyhern flashed a rueful smile. “You are right,” he agreed. “Those are accusations which have yet to be flung in your direction.”

“As to any bullying or intimidation, that, like beauty, is often in the eye of the beholder,” Merrick continued. “I’ve found the incompetent to be rather quick with their insults.”

Treyhern was toying with a mechanical pen on his desk. “You are a brilliant man, MacLachlan,” he said, his voice softer now. “And a cynical one, too, I think. I can’t help that—men usually turn cynical for a reason—just be careful you do not let it get the better of you.”

Merrick was beginning to wonder what the man was getting at. Surely he was not naive? “Wealth was never built on a charitable nature, Treyhern,” he returned. “I am a success because I have separated sentiment from common sense. I run a business, not an almshouse. But if at any time you find my methods do not suit you, speak it plain, and we’ll part ways.”

“Fair enough,” said the earl drawing a leather-bound ledger from his desk. “Let’s get down to the numbers then, and see how we get on.”

Merrick relaxed into his chair, and accepted the glass of brandy the earl offered. He respected the man for his bluntness, though he bristled at some of his words. But Treyhern, it seemed, had had his say and was ready to move ahead. In short order, his desk was covered with maps, plats, and accounting sheets which the two of them pored over.

They were both surprised when the clock struck six. Treyhern began to shuffle through the pile of papers. “I am afraid I have not been attending the clock,” he said a little fretfully. “We have not even discussed these options near the Dorset coast.”

Merrick straightened in his chair and set aside his empty brandy glass. “I should like to do so,” he answered. “If now is inconvenient, I can return tomorrow.”

“Ah, tomorrow I am promised to my wife!” said the earl, his expression sheepish. “It is her dear old nanny’s birthday, and we are bound for Hampstead for the day. Look—perhaps we might finish this over a bit of beef? Could you stay, MacLachlan? We needn’t change for dinner. It is just my wife, my daughter, and I.”

“I have the most delightful idea, Madeleine,” said Helene as the four of them made their way back up Mortimer Street. “Why do you and Geoff not stay to dinner? It is just Cam, Ariane, and I.”

“Oh, yes, please!” Lady Ariane Rutledge laid a plaintive hand on Madeleine’s arm. “We are so frightfully dull here, just the three of us.”

Madeleine exchanged glances with Geoff, whose eyes were alight. The gorgeous afternoon had passed, and the air was growing heavy with the evening’s damp. “Well, Geoff is but twelve,” she began.

Helene frowned. “Surely, my dear, he is not always relegated to the schoolroom?”

Madeleine felt her cheeks warm. “Not at all, lately,” she admitted. “Geoff’s tutor is in Norfolk spending a few weeks with his family. I am ashamed to say the two of us have been eating in the kitchen since taking our little cottage.”

“Excellent, then!” said Helene. “We are agreed. Mrs. Trinkle said Cook was putting on a huge joint this morning, so we shall have plenty. Ariane, be a dear and run up ahead to tell her we’ll be five for dinner.”

Looking very pleased with herself, Lady Ariane did as her stepmother bade and hastened her steps along. “When is your new house to be ready, Madeleine?” asked Helene, as the girl darted across the street. “It cannot be much longer now, can it?”

“I—I am not perfectly sure,” said Madeleine. The truth was, the house was probably ready for occupancy, but she was still undecided about what to do. She did love the house. She had invested a great many hopes and dreams in it. But to be so close to Merrick…ah, that she did not think she could survive.

By the time they reached the front steps, the first fat drops of rain were falling. Madeleine saw that a dark, handsome man with a hint of silver in his hair was waiting with the door thrown wide. It was the earl himself. His height and posture made him unmistakable. He greeted his wife with much affection, even going so far as to kiss her cheek once the door was closed.

“Good news, my love,” said Helene as they went up the stairs. “Lady Bessett and her son are to dine with us.”

Lord Treyhern waved his hand in the direction of the yellow parlor. “What a pleasant surprise,” he said. “I, too, have a dinner guest. Pray let me introduce you.”

“Oh, I do hope we have not intruded,” said Madeleine.

“Nonsense,” Treyhern replied.

Just then, they stepped into the parlor. A tall, lean man stood by the fireplace, one well-shod foot propped almost languidly on the brass fender. He lifted his eyes from his tumbler of brandy and pinned Madeleine with his ice-blue gaze, just as he had that fateful evening in Lady Forne’s ballroom.

It was like a physical blow to the stomach. Stunned, Madeleine almost tripped over the opulent Aubusson carpet, catching herself at the very last instant.

Treyhern seemed unaware of her discomfort. “Lady Bessett, may I present Mr. Merrick MacLachlan?”

Merrick set his drink aside, and bowed. “We are quite well acquainted,” he said in a low, almost suggestive voice. “Good evening, Madeleine.”

Madeleine could not find her voice. His glittering eyes had sucked the very air from her lungs.

Helene was clearly wondering if some sort of faux pas had been committed. “Why, you know one another!” she said with specious cheer. “How lovely.”

Only Geoff seemed to have his wits about him. “Mr. MacLachlan’s workers are building a house for Mamma,” he said. “I’m to have a new drawing table, and I will be able to see the river from my schoolroom.”

Their hosts instantly relaxed. “Oh, a house!” said the earl.

“Yes, of course,” said Helene. “Madeleine’s dream house. What a remarkable coincidence.”

“Is it indeed your dream house, Madeleine?” Merrick softly inquired. “I was not aware. I must endeavor to make it utterly perfect, then.”

Madeleine did not like the way his words and his eyes melted over her. And she did not like the sensation which went twisting through her body at the sight of him. Moreover, no one but Geoff had missed his use of her Christian name. “I…I like the house very well indeed,” she managed, opening her hands rather lamely. “And it is very close to the river.”

Merrick was smiling, but the smile did not reach his eyes. He surprised her by turning his attention to her son. “Hello, Geoff,” he said. “I have not seen you around in a while.”

“I—I have been busy,” he said, his gaze dropping to his shoes.

“Busy with your sketching, I daresay?”

A frisson of something like fear ran down Madeleine’s spine. Merrick had tilted his head to one side, as if attempting to see the boy’s eyes. What on earth was going on?

“Geoffrey,” she said, her voice too sharp. “You cannot be acquainted with Mr. MacLachlan. I mean…
are
you?”

Merrick stepped nearer. “I have seen him round the village,” he remarked. “And Geoff has been by the site to make a sketch or two.”

“Geoffrey!” said Madeleine, her heart in her throat. “You—why, you must not do such a thing. Indeed, I must forbid it.”

“You
forbid
it?” Merrick’s voice dropped an octave. “May I ask your reason?”

Madeleine felt her face heat. “It is not safe,” she answered. “And I cannot think you wish to have children round a work site where there are all manner of dangers and…and uncertainties.”

“Let me assuage your concerns, ma’am,” he answered. “Geoff keeps his distance. He is perfectly safe, I do assure you. Building projects tend to attract bright young lads, and if you forbid it, I fear it will be all the more interesting to him.”

Lord Treyhern cleared his throat. “A valid point,” he interjected. “Forbidden fruit, and all that, of course. Speaking of which, may I offer you a glass of wine, Lady Bessett?”

“Yes, we have madeira and French vermouth on the sideboard,” said Helene on a rush. “And Ariane, my love, will you ring for some lemonade?”

“To be sure, Mamma.” Lady Ariane darted toward the bellpull. “Mrs. Trinkle usually makes it quite sweet, Geoff. Have you any objection?”

Geoff shrugged both shoulders. “I don’t mind.”

Madeleine smiled apologetically at Helene. “And I should adore a glass of vermouth.”

Helene had gone to the sideboard to pour. Fleetingly, Madeleine debated simply snatching the decanter. Her nerves could have used it.

Merrick MacLachlan was still staring at her, his eyes hard and surprisingly dark now. He looked like a sleek black cat poised to pounce. Then, suddenly, something inside him seemed to relent. He rocked back onto his heels, his body relaxing. “MacGregor & Company will be finished in Walham Green early next year,” he remarked, his tone casual. “After that, Geoff, you will have to look elsewhere for your entertainments, I am afraid.”

It was on the tip of Madeleine’s tongue to rebuke him, but something in Merrick’s silvery blue eyes kept confounding her. She had forbidden Geoff the construction area, and she had meant it. Hadn’t she? Their quarrel had already distressed Helene and her husband.

She looked at Helene apologetically when her hostess pressed the glass of wine into her hand. “Thank you.”

“It is my favorite,” said Helene.

Just then, a maid came in with two glasses of lemonade. Ariane took one, and passed the second to Geoff, who was attending the gentlemen’s conversation with a rapt expression.

“Lord Treyhern has some property to let near Kensington,” Merrick said, turning to the boy. “If we can work out the rents, I was thinking I might build some houses. Not terraced buildings, mind. More like the ones in your elevation drawings.”

Treyhern was nodding. “It might be just the thing,” he remarked. “Not everyone wishes to live in Town, stacked cheek by jowl to one another. People want a bit of space—and Kensington is still little more than a bucolic village.”

Helene laughed. “Oh, not for long, my love!” she warned. “Here, may I refresh your brandies?”

“What sort of roofs, then?” asked the boy, as Helene took the gentlemen’s glasses. “I like mansards best.”

Helene turned around. “Do you indeed, Geoff?” she asked. “They are French, you know. Like me.”

“They are French,” her husband solemnly agreed. “And for that reason, they will never sell well in London, or anywhere this side of the Channel.”

“Ma foi,
how foolish!” Helene responded, withdrawing the stopper from the brandy decanter. “The English love French wine. French food. French fashions. Why may they not have our roofs?”

Merrick smiled. “Admittedly, my lady, it makes no sense,” he agreed. “But the stubborn English want their roofs gabled or hipped. They do not take such matters lightly.”

“You are Scotch, are you not?” said Helene, returning with Merrick’s glass.

“Through and through, ma’am.”

Helene gave a mischievous smile. “I think you poke a little fun at the English, no?”

He smiled back, and this time, it reached his eyes. “A little, perhaps.”

But Geoff asked another question of Merrick, something about foundations, and the gentlemen’s attention returned to the subject of building things. Ariane looked a bit put out. She had lost her playmate to dull, masculine pursuits. Helene shot Madeleine an apologetic look and struck up a conversation about a dress Ariane had admired in the park.

“I do think that shade of green would look lovely with your hair, my dear,” she said. “Perhaps the three of us might go shopping tomorrow?”

“I should love to,” said Madeleine, though she was barely attending the conversation.

She was still watching Geoff from the corner of one eye. She was surprised by his eager, almost confident manner tonight. His face had again taken on that enthralled look, and it greatly worried Madeleine. She had never approved of his passion for drawing things—well, technical things. His sketches of birds and plants were excellent, too, and she had encouraged him to confine his attentions to those more edifying subjects.

Soon they were summoned to dinner, which turned out to be a delicious but simple meal. The gentlemen continued to talk about land speculation and construction, and Geoff continued to watch, his eyes wide.

Merrick was clearly in his element. His eyes kept crinkling at the corners with laughter, and one could see he’d spent a great deal of time in the sun. She wondered when he had come to look so lean and so hardened. She wondered, too, how he’d got such a horrific scar—not the neat, straight slash of a rapier’s blade, but more like a hacking blow from a dockside brawl.

The scar did not, however, detract from his dark good looks, more was the pity. The boyish eagerness had long ago left his face, and in its place was a hard, blasé sort of worldliness. He was telling some sort of story now, the hand which held his empty wineglass gesticulating energetically. He seemed wholly unaware of her presence, or unconcerned by it, at the very least.