Her father dusted his sheet of paper with fine sand and delicately
tapped it clean, then held it out. “Here, girl. Take this and hold your
tongue. Learn to keep out of men’s affairs.”
Chastity grabbed the paper, but threw it aside. “Men’s affairs? Men’s affairs have ruined me!”
“I’m pleased you at least realize the finality of that.”
“And you don’t care. You, my father, don’t
care
that I am unjustly vilified. How can you think you can serve England when you cannot serve your family?”
“My family exists to serve me,” he said, rising. He shoved her carelessly out of the way.
She grabbed Lindle’s sword from the floor, and despite the outcry,
lunged at her father. He deflected the blade with the pistol, but the
point slashed into his sleeve, gashing his arm. He snarled, and swung
the pistol viciously at her head. Chastity felt it brush her temple as
Cyn tackled her to the ground and safety.
“… in the noble house of Stuart we see fortitude and verity,
accompanied by victorious chastity, all virtues dedicated to the
greatest good of England.”
Everyone froze. Silence fell over the room as they all turned to
where Rothgar stood, reading from a document. A bloodstained, slightly
chewed document.
“No,” choked Walgrave.
Lindle giggled.
“You really should have read it before you burned it, shouldn’t you?” asked Rothgar mildly.
“No!” howled the earl. He raised his pistol and fired, but it was
already discharged, and merely clicked. He hurled it at Rothgar. It
missed.
“Kill him!” he raged at his two henchmen. Still on the floor, half
under Cyn, Chastity saw that at last the earl was mad, but would he
cause the deaths of all of them?
The two men had merely been goggle-eyed observers to all this mayhem. Now they looked at each other and did nothing.
“Kill him, or I’ll see you hang! I’ll ruin you. I’ll ruin your families…”
The men looked to Rothgar for help.
Rothgar smiled. “Now, my lord,” he said to the purple-faced earl,
“you dance to my tune rather than the Vernhams‘. Do you think you will
like it any better?”
“Never,” snarled Walgrave. He plunged a hand into the pocket of the
nearest man and pulled out a pistol. The man, clearly terrified by all
these goings-on, stood like a dummy and did nothing.
By the time Walgrave raised the gun to fire it, however, both Brand and Rothgar had firearms aimed at him.
“An interesting situation, isn’t it?” asked Rothgar, “You could kill
me, but you will surely die. Are you ready to meet your maker?”
Walgrave’s mouth twitched in a rictus of hate. “I’d rather die than
give you the victory, Rothgar. You’ve been a thorn in my flesh for too
long.”
“I’m pleased to be appreciated.”
“Give me that document, and no one need die.”
“No,” said Rothgar. “But I give you my word not to use it as long as
you live quietly at Walgrave Towers, take no further part in government
affairs, and do not concern yourself with your offspring anymore.”
“
What
?” cried Walgrave. “Dance to your piping for the rest of my life. Never, you fiend!” He waved his pistol around the room wildly.
Would he shoot Rothgar?
Brand?
Fort?
Herself?
With a cackle of insane amusement, Walgrave backed toward the door. “Don’t try to stop me!”
“You may leave,” said Rothgar calmly. “Just remember my conditions.
Unlike Vernham, I will lose nothing by making this paper public.”
“Public,” Walgrave crowed. “Yes, public…” He opened the door and ran cumbersomely into the hall.
Cyn leaped to his feet. “He’s mad. He’ll hurt someone.” He ran after him.
Chastity struggled up too, hampered by skirts and domino, and followed with all the others.
She heard Walgrave howling something about treason and Rothgar. He was trying to incriminate Rothgar…
She dashed into the marble hall to see her father waving his pistol
and ranting about traitors and fornicators like a mad preacher. Guests
cowered behind chairs and pedestals. Chastity saw Fort enter the far
side of the hall and move swiftly to control the earl.
It happened so quickly.
The earl’s demented eyes focused on someone in the gaming room. “You… !” he snarled. “You! The author of all my woes… !”
Fort whipped out a pistol. “Father, no!”
The earl aimed.
Fort shot him.
The earl’s arm jerked, and his own ball ricocheted harmlessly off a
marble pillar. He crumbled in an ungainly heap. Chastity had the
peculiar thought that he would hate to be seen in such an undignified
position.
She ran forward, but her father was quite dead. Shot through the
heart. She looked up and saw Princess Augusta sprawled inelegantly
unconscious in her chair, cards spilled from her hands. She had been
the target and had fainted from terror.
Chastity looked up at Fort, where he stood white and frozen, staring
at what he had done. Then Verity and Nathaniel were at his side.
Excited chatter, shot through with weeping, built all around them. Cyn pulled Chastity into his arms and away from the body.
Brand and Rothgar’s pistols had disappeared from view. Rothgar moved
smoothly to calm alarmed guests, but Chastity noted that he did nothing
to prevent people from gathering in the hall. Elf appeared and ran
forward to tend to the princess, untying Augusta’s mask and applying
smelling salts.
Word immediately spread as to who the mysterious lady was, exciting the gentry rather more than the corpse.
Rothgar passed by and quietly instructed Cyn to take Chastity away
from the center of the action. They accordingly moved back through the
crowd. What now? How many of those events had been part of the
clockmaker’s design? Surely even Rothgar would not have planned for a
son to shoot his father.
Would he?
She looked over, but Fort had disappeared from view.
“Cyn,” she said, “I must go to Fort. He must feel so terrible.”
But Cyn grasped her arm. “Not yet. Verity is with him.” He edged
them around the back of the crowd to a place where they could see and
hear what went on in the card room.
Augusta had regained her senses and was being tenderly assisted to a
chaise. Rothgar bowed solicitously over her, assuring himself of her
health.
The princess pressed a cool cloth to her head. “That man. Walgrave,”
she said in her German-accented English. “I have never liked him. He
was a bad influence on my darling Frederick.”
“I fear he went mad, your highness,” said Rothgar.
Augusta moved the cloth slightly, clearly coming to terms with the
situation. “He was shouting about treason. I think he accused you of
treason, my lord marquess.”
“Said you’d been a Jacobite in the ‘45,” said Lady Fanshaw. “Man was
crazed. You couldn’t have been out of the schoolroom in that year.”
“True,” said the princess. “And you are so loyal, you Mallorens.”
Chastity saw the flick of Augusta’s eyes toward Lord Bute, who had
tactfully moved away. It would not be desirable for the rather
conventional gentry to realize the mother of the king had come to this
affair without attendants other than the man reputed to be her lover.
“Completely loyal,” said Rothgar, pouring her some wine. “I cannot
tell you how distressed I am to have had this happen while you were a
guest in my house, your highness. We must find your lady-in-waiting.”
He looked around. “Where is Lady Trelyn?”
Nerissa Trelyn was a lady-in-waiting, but Chastity knew she hadn’t
come with Princess Augusta tonight. The suggestion, however, neatly
conveyed the impression of propriety. But how would Rothgar make the
Trelyns dance to his tune?
The princess relaxed and sipped her wine. “I’m sure this fiasco was
none of your fault, my lord. I wonder what turned the poor earl’s wits.”
“I fear he was consumed with remorse, your highness.”
“Remorse?”
“Yes, your highness. You see, at this affair he met the scoundrel
who brought about his daughter’s disgrace earlier in the year. He
discovered, since the man was in his cups, that his poor child was
innocent of all wrongdoing.”
“You speak of Chastity Ware?” asked Augusta in amazed disbelief.
“Indeed. It appears that Henry Vernham obtained the key to the
lady’s room and slipped into her bed. He knew from family gossip that
she is an extraordinarily heavy sleeper. He deliberately shamed Lady
Chastity in order to gain her hand, and her large dowry.”
“The scoundrel,” muttered someone in the crowd. “Horsewhip the wretch.”
“I fear,” said Rothgar, “that is impossible. The earl’s anguish was so great, he shot the man.”
There was a distinct murmur of approval.
The princess was a little skeptical. “It is a strange story, my lord.”
“Extremely strange,” agreed Rothgar, “but the earl insisted on recording one crucial aspect of the truth.”
The princess took the paper Rothgar gave her and read it.
“Extraordinary,” she remarked. “This does make it clear that poor Lady
Chastity was more virtuous than it appeared. Perhaps her name suits her
rather better than we had supposed.”
“And I would like to add my word,” came a voice. Nerissa Trelyn
walked forward. Chastity noted that though he faded away, Bryght
appeared to have been with her, and for once he looked amused.
Nerissa was composed, but she was as pale as her pristine gown. She
curtsied low to the princess. “I apologize for being from your side
when this dreadful event occurred, your highness.”
Augusta could play a part, too. She waved a hand. “I gave you
permission to absent yourself. But what word do you have to add, Lady
Trelyn? Were you not one of those who reported Lady Chastity’s shame?”
“Indeed, your highness,” said Nerissa demurely, “which makes it all
the more important that I now right the wrong. Lord Trelyn and I—” The
beauty directed her doe-like eyes at her doting husband, and he hurried
forward to stand at her side. “—we hesitated to support the story, for
we knew Lady Chastity a little and thought her to be virtuous. We felt
that at the worst she had been guilty of an indiscretion. It was only
when she appeared unrepentant that we were obliged to speak.”
“And now you know better?” asked Augusta.
“Indeed.” Nerissa was the picture of a beautiful, virtuous woman.
“After your highness so kindly permitted me to dance with my husband, I
was taken faint by the heat and perfumes in the ballroom.” She lowered
her head coyly. “Your highness will understand. I am in an interesting
condition…”
“Ah,” said Augusta. “Of course.”
Trelyn preened with pride.
“I went into the cool of the conservatory. While I was there, people
entered the small saloon off the conservatory, leaving me no way to
depart other than by going outside. I could not risk a chill. I heard
all that took place. Mr. Vernham confessed his wicked plot, and that he
did not… did not sully Lady Chastity. The earl was distraught to think
that he had so misjudged his daughter, as am I.”
Augusta was no fool, and Chastity could see that she smelled a rat
in all this, but she had nothing to gain by opposing it, and risked
scandal if her presence here with Lord Bute were revealed.
“A sad case,” she said. “I wonder what became of the unfortunate
girl. Perhaps she can be found and we can do something to restore her
good name. A respectable marriage would be in order.”
Rothgar’s eyes found Chastity. She stood frozen to the spot, hating
the thought of baring herself before this crowd, who were standing
around as if watching a play.
But Cyn’s hand firmly pushed her forward. Heart pounding, she walked
shakily over to Rothgar. “This is she, your highness. May I present
Lady Chastity Ware?”
It was the telling moment, for presentation to royalty was the
sine qua non
of respectability.
Augusta stared at Chastity for a long moment. Then she smiled, if a
little thinly, and held out her hand. Chastity sank into a deep curtsy
to kiss it.
“You appear to have been hard done to, my dear,” said the princess. “Do you swear now before witnesses that you are pure?”
Chastity rose, knowing her face had flamed. She prayed it be taken
for embarrassment and sought words of truth. “I vow before heaven that
I was a virgin when Henry Vernham sneaked into my bed, your highness,
and that I did not invite him there. Thanks to Divine Providence he did
not have opportunity to despoil me before I was rescued.” She turned to
Nerissa Trelyn. “You cannot know how grateful I was that you came at
that time, my lady. I do understand how hard it must have been to
believe me virtuous.”
Nerissa managed to squeeze real tears from her big eyes, and
embraced Chastity in a cloud of familiar rose perfume. “You poor dear
innocent!” She turned to Augusta and knelt theatrically. “Your
highness. We must do all in our power to correct this wrong, or my
conscience will never be at ease.”
“Of course we must,” said the princess, though with a jaundiced air.
She considered, then said, “This event has been a sad shock to my
nerves. I will rest here a few days. Lord Rothgar, if that is possible.”
“Rothgar Abbey will be honored, your highness.”
“And as Lady Trelyn is in a delicate condition, I will need
additional ladies-in-waiting. Perhaps Lady Chastity and Lady Elfled
will fill those posts pro-tem.”
Both ladies curtsied deeply. “It will be a great honor, your highness,” said Elf.
“Information about this revelation must be sent to the newssheets
which have delighted in spreading the scurrilous falsehoods.” Augusta
looked at Chastity and her eyes did seem to soften. “Lady Chastity, I’m
sure your experiences have been shocking, but a marriage would be wise,
especially one that would keep you away from London for some time.”
Chastity wished she knew her lines in this play. She curtsied again.
“I am willing to be guided by you, your highness.” She saw Augusta’s
brows rise and realized her rings were visible. Oh, Lord.