.
“Take this, Mrs Redmayne.” Amelia thrust the leather-bound journal with gold letters on the spine at her. “Open it between the pages I have marked with a ribbon.”
In response to her whirlwind arrival, the lack of preliminary courtesies and her brusque tone of voice, her mother’s eyes opened wide.
“Amelia, you seem overwrought. Please be seated.” Julia sank down onto the sofa and patted the empty space beside her. “A glass of wine?”
Amelia ignored both suggestions. She held out the journal again “Read what grandmother wrote. Tell me if it is true.”
Julia’s hands trembled. She reached up to take the book.
Only the clock ticking away the seconds broke the silence in the small parlour.
Her cheeks scarlet, Julia closed the journal. “I shall not mince words. They are true. Oh! Don’t look at me with disgust. Please allow me to explain.”
“No! I only needed you to confirm or deny the allegation.” She grabbed the journal from her mother’s lap. “I never want to see you again. Good day, to you, madam.”
Her face white, Julia stood. She clutched Amelia’s arm.
Amelia winced. “Let go of me.” Her mother’s strong, painful grip hurt.
“No, you shall hear what I must tell you.”
Amelia tried to pull her arm away. She gazed down at Julia’s hand as if it were a loathsome slug that left a slimy trail like the muck which had destroyed her peace of mind forever. It would be undignified to struggle. Outraged, she stood still.
“Amelia, the only important thing is this. I am your mother and I love you. The rest is irrelevant.”
“Not to me, madam.” Through the open window came the harsh sound of crows cawing in the sycamore tree in the garden. She shuddered. Neither the quarrelsome birds nor her fears before she confronted her mother could be silenced. She had hoped against hope some dreadful mistake occurred. Maybe her grandmother had penned false testimony. She had not. Rage consumed her.
She wrenched her arm away from her mother. “I never wish to see you again. Further communication will be through my attorney. There can be no question of you and the children remaining in London. For Edmund and Belinda’s sake, a house shall be rented for you far away from here. Provision will be made for you on condition you never again contact me.”
Heartsick, ignoring her mother’s sobs, Amelia returned to her carriage.
After she gave her attorney her instructions what would she do? She recalled the time when, dressed in mourning for her grandmother, she longed to re-enter society. At this moment, she wanted to flee from it. Where could she go? Did it matter?
An innocent victim of deception, the life she once knew had ended.
An image of Saunton’s face formed in her mind’s eyes. Pain ripped through her. Through his family she had learned to love, not only him but Charlotte and the children. Sobs rose in her throat but she did not give voice to them. All the tears in the world, her world which had lost its flavour, would not help. Only certain of one thing she swallowed.
In Syddon’s chambers, she issued concise orders for her will which she waited to sign, although Syddon protested she should not act in such haste.
Amelia arrived home shortly before luncheon would be served. For a minute or two Scamp’s ecstatic welcome drowned her voice. When she could make herself heard she addressed her butler.
“Yates, I shall not join my guests. Please inform them I am indisposed and have given orders not to be disturbed by anyone.”
“Perhaps you would prefer to eat in your apartment.”
She glanced at the old man who had known her since childhood and now served her faithfully. “No thank you.”
Amelia went upstairs to the first floor where Cassie sat looking down through the bannisters, her wriggling puppy clasped in her arms.
“Cassie? Why are you here?”
“I am waiting.”
“For what?”
The child danced up and down, at risk of dropping the puppy.
Amelia rescued the little creature. “Cassie?”
“So I can see the duke when he leaves. I like him. If Saunton and Mamma agree, he says when he and Charlotte are married I may stay with them whenever I want to.”
Certain she would never find a gentleman willing to marry her when she confessed to the truth about herself, tears swamped Amelia’s eyes.
“Cassie, you should not be here. Please go back to the nursery.”
The child she loved and had hoped that by a miracle might be her youngest sister-in-law took the puppy from her. Exhausted, Amelia slowly followed the child, who scampered up the next flight of stairs.
On the landing, she hurried to her dressing room where she handed her hat to Blythe.
Amelia looked at her reflection in the mirror to tidy her hair. A panic-stricken laugh escaped her. What did her appearance matter? She stared at the image of her chalk white face. Her wild eyes resembled those of a cornered animal.
“Blythe.”
“Yes, Miss.”
“I am unwell and not to be disturbed by anyone.”
“Should the doctor be sent for?”
“No! You may go.”
Someone knocked on the door and opened it before Blythe could.
Charlotte stepped forward. “Yates said you are sick so I came to see if I can do anything for you.”
“No, thank you, my dresser is taking care of me. My orders not to be disturbed by anyone have been disobeyed.”
“Oh, I am sorry, but I also came to share my good news. Midland asked me to marry him. Of course, I agreed. You cannot imagine how happy I am.” She held out her hand. “Look at my betrothal ring.”
“Congratulations. The ring is beautiful.” She hugged the girl who had become her friend. “I am so pleased for you and wish you and your duke every happiness,” she said managing to sound enthusiastic although jealousy of Charlotte’s obvious joy, one which she would never experience, tortured her.
“Thank you.” Charlotte scrutinised her. “You do look poorly. Does your head ache? Perhaps you need to lie down for a few hours. I shall leave you to rest.”
Her hands clenched so tightly that her nails dug painfully into the palms. Amelia shut her bedroom door. What would she do for the rest of her life bereft of a husband and children? Children she had never wanted to have until she met Saunton’s young sisters.
She lay on her bed heedless of her dirty half boots. After her grandmother died, grief stricken, she had lain in bed fully clothed. Grief imprisoned her again. This time it would not decrease. She did not have the will to recover. It would consume her.
Her eyes opened. With her last breath Grandmamma had begun, “There’s something very important I should have told you-” Had she intended to tell her the entire truth?
* * *
Saunton looked across the library at Blythe, whom he had summoned.
“Your mistress has been ill for three days. Why has a doctor not been summoned to attend her?” he asked, very worried about Amelia’s health.
Blythe twisted her hands together, a sign of the woman’s discomfort.
“Miss Carstairs doesn’t wish to consult a doctor, but I admit I’m very anxious about her.”
Last night, he lay awake fretting about Amelia, who usually enjoyed going out and about. When he asked Blythe if he could see her, she had said Amelia did not want to see anyone but offered no explanation. He presumed only severe illness would confine her to bed.
“May I return to Miss Carstairs, my lord?”
“Not yet; tell me why your mistress refuses to see the countess, Mrs Deane or anyone else. What is she suffering from? Has she the plague?” he asked sarcastically.
Blythe shifted from one foot to the other. “Miss Carstairs says she’s too tired to speak to anyone.”
“Says? Do you believe her?”
The dresser stared down at the floor. “I can’t say, my lord.”
“Cannot or will not?” He strode about the library, hands clenched behind his back. “I shall summon a doctor to attend to her.”
“My lord,” Amelia’s butler said and held out a silver salver.
Saunton took a card from it.
“Shall I tell Mr Syddon you are not at home, my lord?” Yates asked.
“No. Admit him.” Saunton glanced at Blythe. “You may go.”
“Yes, my lord, thank you, my lord.” Amelia’s dresser scuttled out of the library.
Why had Amelia taken to her bed? Perhaps she had a reason other than illness for her refusal to admit anyone to her apartment?
“Mr Syddon, my lord,” Yates announced, withdrew from the library and shut the door.
The attorney bowed low, his black coat, pantaloons and white linen faultless.
Saunton indicated a chair opposite the desk. “Please be seated.”
“Thank you.” Syddon sat. He leant forward a little, his eyes alert. “My visit is due to my unease about my client.”
“Miss Carstairs?” Saunton prompted him, his curiosity aroused.
“Yes.” Syddon surveyed the ranks of books on shelves. He seemed reluctant to continue but spoke again. “After I searched my conscience I decided to confide in you because you are the lady’s guardian. When Miss Carstairs visited my chambers three days ago, she seemed melancholy. Of course, she might still be mourning Mrs Bettismore’s demise but-” Syddon took a deep breath. “When Miss Carstairs gave me instructions for a new will, I wondered if anything has occurred to distress her. Despite my advice to give me time to draw it up, Miss Carstairs insisted on waiting to sign it.”
“What did Miss Carstairs change in her will?” he asked although the attorney should not tell him.
“My lord, you know better than to expect me to divulge confidential matters.”
“Very well. Thank you for calling on me, Syddon. A glass of wine?” Saunton suggested with the intention of finding out if the attorney knew why Amelia was so upset.
Colour tinged the man’s pale face. “No thank you, my lord. You are gracious, but I have an appointment for which I do not wish to be late. Please let me know if I may ever be of service to you.” Syddon bowed low and left him alone.
Enough! If something had overset Amelia he must comfort her. This time he would insist.
Saunton strode across the carpet, flung the door open and erupted onto the landing. He bounded up the stairs and along the corridor to Amelia’s apartment.
“Open the door, James,” he commanded a footman who stood in front of it.
“My lord, I’ve been ordered not to admit anyone.”
No-one would be allowed to prevent him from seeing Amelia. Saunton’s fists clenched. “If you don’t stand aside I shall remove you.”
James did not hesitate to step out of the way.
Without pausing to knock on the door and wait for permission to enter Amelia’s parlour, he opened it.
“My lord!” Blythe exclaimed.
“Where is your mistress?”
Her mouth agape, the dresser stared at him until she recovered her wits. “It’s not fitting for you to be here. Miss Carstairs isn’t receiving visitors. Besides, only ladies are allowed to come into her rooms.”
Saunton opened a door. He glanced into a dressing room – all femininity with its pastel colours and pretty ornaments. He opened another door. The curtains were closed. The only light in the dim bedroom came from the parlour. It sufficed to reveal Amelia’s dishevelled hair and still form in the stuffy bedchamber that smelt of stale perfume and needed fresh air.
Amelia turned her head on the pillow to look at the dresser. “Blythe, don’t ask me yet again if I want something to eat.”
The woman’s quickly stifled sob sounded from behind him. He shut the door and turned the key in the lock.
“Go away,” Amelia ordered.
Saunton drew the curtain, opened the shutters and opened the window a little.
Amelia shrieked. “How dare you disobey my orders.”
“I dare,” he answered calmly, although the sight of her in such a deplorable state shocked him.
“Saunton! I told Blythe I don’t wish to see anyone. Besides, you should not be here. It is improper.”
He approached the bed. “Propriety be damned,” he said softly.
Saunton gazed down into Amelia’s eyes which seemed larger than usual in her pale face. “Are you ill?”
“No, I am sick at heart.”
“Tell me why you are. I want to help you.” He gazed intently into her eyes. “I cannot bear to see you in such distress. Amelia, will you allow me to cherish you, to make you happy. I love you and believe you love me. Please agree to be my wife.”
He had intended to woo her gently so he instantly regretted his uncharacteristic impulsiveness.
Wide-eyed, she looked beyond him, her face expressionless. “I cannot.”
“Why? Surely you don’t suspect me of being a fortune hunter?”
“I know you are not.”
“Look at me and deny you love me,” he said desperate for her to say she did.
She shook her head.
Saunton sat on the edge of the bed. “Amelia, you look unwell. If you don’t confide in me I shall send for the doctor to examine you.”
“And I will refuse to speak to him. My lord, please leave.”
He raised her hand to his lips. “If you marry me I promise you will never regret it. I shall compensate you for your unhappy childhood.”
“If you knew the truth, you would not want to marry me.”
“Are you sure I don’t know it?”
She nodded vehemently. “My grandmother knew and, of course, my mother does.”
“About your father?”
Startled, Amelia sat up. “What do you know about him?”
“Your grandmother wrote a letter in which she asked me to marry you. She informed me you were born eleven months after your supposed father died. Mrs Bettismore feared you had inherited what she called your mother’s bad blood. She confessed she reared you too strictly with the best of intentions. Your grandmother wanted to prevent you becoming a wanton.” He clasped Amelia’s hand, pleased when she did not pull it away.”
Amelia fell back against the pillows. “A…and knowing the truth you still want to marry me?”
The last barricade around the walls of his heart crumbled. “Yes, my angel, for I don’t think I could bear to live without you.”
“I could never have agreed to marry any gentleman on false pretences, but I believed no honourable gentleman would want me for his wife after he knew the truth.”
Shaken by the misery expressed in her eyes, Saunton toyed with her fingers. “The details about your birth are not unique. There are respected ladies and gentlemen who are accepted by the ton although their parents were not married.”
“But they are…are blue blooded; none of them are an insignificant granddaughter of a woman in trade.”
He kissed her hand again, her skin silky against his lips. “My angel, you have inherited some of the bluest blood in the country from your real father.”
Her hand trembled in his. “My mother must have loved her husband if not she would not have married him.”
“I am sure she did, why else would she have eloped with him,” Saunton said choosing his words carefully.
“Then I cannot understand why she committed adultery.”
“Your mother endured a wretched marriage. Her husband believed your grandmother would settle a large amount of money on them after he eloped with your mother. When Mrs Bettismore refused he mistreated your mother. Later he abandoned her in Spain. Your father rescued her. A victim of an unhappy arranged marriage with a wife in England, he fell in love with your mother and she with him. He died in battle before he could carry out his intention to provide for you, his posthumous child, and your mother. To avoid embarrassment to his wife and legitimate children your mother refused to identify him until Mrs Bettismore threatened to cast her out on the street with only the clothes she stood up in.”
“Why did she stay in Spain after her husband left her? She could have returned to my grandmother.”
“I hope you have realised love is insatiable. She fell in love with your father. Their liaison was not a light-hearted one. Don’t judge your grandmother and parents too harshly.”
“I cannot forgive Grandmamma and Mamma’s lies.”
“Told to protect you. One day, I am sure you will be able to pardon them.”
“I shall try,” she said uncertainly. “Who is my father?”
He cupped her chin with a deliberately gentle hand and raised it until she looked at him. “The Marquess of Tallerton, a gallant soldier loved by the men who served under his campaign and appreciated by Wellington. A father to be proud of.”
Saunton leant forward to kiss her. “Now you know there are no obstacles, please say you will marry me.” The time while he waited for her to speak seemed the most painful and the longest in his life.
“Yes, I will marry you,” she agreed somewhere between tears and smiles.
“Sweetheart, please tell me why you have changed your mind.”
Amelia looked down, then peeped up at him as though she was shy. “For the best of reasons. I love you.”
“My angel, the best part of me, I love you too,” he whispered and kissed her until they broke apart, breathless and smiling.
“’Pon my word, madam, is this any way to treat a poor gentleman under your spell?”
Rosy-cheeked, Amelia laughed and nodded.
The End
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