CHAPTER THREE

A Mere Slip of Paper

“. . . had she entertained mercenary views, she believed she might have obtained any price she had chosen to ask, for the correspondence . . .”

 

Langdale, Charles, Memoirs of Mrs. Fitzherbert

So.

The rumors were correct. A wedding had taken place. George IV had married a Catholic. The law declared that this action rendered him ineligible to occupy the throne. And yet he had already been declared the lawful king and he was said to be as busy planning his coronation as he was with his divorce from Caroline of Brunswick.

But here in this calm, fashionable parlor sat his other wife—a living woman, never divorced but never fully acknowledged.

If proof of their marriage was revealed, his eligibility to hold the throne could be challenged by Parliament or indeed by any or all his brothers. Or by the people themselves.

It felt like an opera or a fairy tale. But it was as real as the woman in front of her. Rosalind forbade her gaze to stray down to the miniature at Mrs. Fitzherbert’s throat. Part of her was already backing away, whispering, This is too much. There are too many consequences. This is beyond me.

If Adam was as stunned as Rosalind by this revelation and its implications, he was also able to set them aside more quickly.

“When did you discover the certificate missing?” he asked.

“This afternoon,” said Mrs. Fitzherbert. “I was out paying my morning calls. When I returned, I went to my room to change my dress. There I found my strongbox had been broken open and all my papers scattered about.”

“Was anything else missing?”

Mrs. Fitzherbert shook her head. “Not even the banknotes. I need it back, Miss Thorne, Mr. Harkness,” she said abruptly. “It must be returned quietly and without fuss. I know you make it your business to help ladies with deeply private troubles, and I will pay whatever it costs.”

“My man of business will be in touch about the details, should it be decided we can be of material assistance,” Rosalind told her. “May I ask, however . . . Have you sent word to . . . your husband?”

“No,” said Mrs. Fitzherbert flatly. “I have not spoken to him in a number of years. He has made it very”—her voice broke—“very plain that he does not wish to continue our alliance on a footing of domestic intimacy, and I have determined I do not wish to continue under any other circumstance.”

The combination of pain and dignity in Mrs. Fitzherbert’s declaration went straight to Rosalind’s heart.

“I understand this is difficult for you,” she said. “However, he would have far more resources at his command than any we can bring to bear upon this matter.”

Mrs. Fitzherbert shook her head. “My husband was never a strong or a discreet man, and in the years since our separation, he has become much degraded. If I tell him the marriage certificate has been stolen, it is very likely that he will panic, and in his panic, he will speak to the wrong person. If that happens, neither he nor I will be safe from what comes afterward.”

Because she was Catholic. Because King George had no legitimate heir. What he did have, however, was five brothers, none of whom were particularly fond of him. If one of the royal dukes chose to contest the succession, the effects would reverberate throughout the whole kingdom for a generation.

There were already calls for the king to abdicate because of the way he treated the queen. If his previous marriage were proved . . . the king’s enemies would come for him. The mob would come for him.

Rosalind knew her silence had stretched on for too long, but she could not seem to muster an answer.

Instead, it was Mrs. Fitzherbert who spoke. “You will now perhaps ask yourself why I did not destroy the paper, for the good of the king and the kingdom. Knowing me only from rumor, you wonder, perhaps, if I intended to profit from it in some way?”

Rosalind felt Adam stiffen ever so slightly at this imputation of her character. But she calmly absorbed the accusation and the anger behind it. It was plain that Mrs. Fitzherbert felt wounded and exhausted. She could not be blamed for her suspicions or a defensive tone.

“This could not come as a surprise,” Rosalind said. “We must consider all possibilities, including those which are unpleasant.”

Mrs. Fitzherbert wilted slightly. “I apologize. You see, if it was only myself who could be hurt by this, I would simply leave London and exile myself to the Continent. But I have two wards.” She gestured toward the portrait of the girls over the fireplace. “They are not the daughters of my body, but I love them as if they were. Mary Ann has been with me since she was a girl, and Minney since she was an infant. Now she’s ready to make her debut.”

As Mrs. Fitzherbert looked at the portrait, a host of expressions flickered across her features—pride, fear, determination, love, and fear again. “If I’m publicly libeled as a loose and immoral woman, my marriage certificate stands as the only proof of my fitness to be their guardian. Without it, I could lose them both.”

A father might participate in numerous dalliances without his rights as a parent being questioned. This was not the case for a mother, let alone a female guardian. It was an old contradiction, and as unfair now as it had ever been.

“I could stand the loss of them.” Mrs. Fitzherbert’s voice grew hoarse with emotion. “Barely. I think. But if I am imputed, their reputations would be torn to shreds by the press and those who hate me. Even by my husband, if he thought it might help him,” she added bitterly. “The girls will lose all chance at a good marriage or acceptance into society. That I will not stand for.”

Rosalind’s gaze flickered toward Adam. He gave the briefest possible nod. He believed what Mrs. Fitzherbert had told them, at least thus far.

And yet . . .

Rosalind regarded the woman in front of her for a long moment. Something about the situation gave her pause. Something she had glimpsed or remembered.

“You are aware that the certificate may have already been destroyed?” Rosalind asked.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Fitzherbert. “But it is also possible the thief feels there is a use for it. Perhaps they mean to sell it to the papers or to give it to some interested parties . . .”

“Such as the men arguing the case of the royal divorce in Parliament?” said Rosalind.

“Just so.” Mrs. Fitzherbert tried to suppress her shudder. “You can understand, Miss Thorne, why it is vital that we move quickly.”

“A last question, Mrs. Fitzherbert,” said Adam. “Do you have any men guarding your house? To deter curiosity seekers, perhaps?”

She frowned. “I do not, but it is a suggestion I will take seriously. Especially now.”

The house is being watched, Adam had said as they entered. He said nothing of it now, only got to his feet.

“I can recommend some good men, if you need the help,” he told Mrs. Fitzherbert. “For now, I would suggest that you show Miss Thorne the room the paper was taken from. In the meantime, I will go outside and see if I can find anything useful. I’ll start with your garden, if I may.”

“Yes, of course.” Mrs. Fitzherbert also rose and rang the bell to summon the footman who had showed them inside. “Faller will show you the way. Thank you, Mr. Harkness.”

Adam bowed. Rosalind caught his eye as he straightened.

Be careful, she thought toward him, and in his glance, she read his answer.

You also.