The Disappearing Duchess (15 page)

She felt as if she was suffocating. Leaving the house, she walked through the formal gardens and headed for the woods. It was a warm sunny morning, the birds singing their hearts out from the trees about her. She could smell the dry sweet smell of bracken and the undergrowth, which had turned brown in the dry spell. Entering a clearing, she saw a fallen tree and sat down on the trunk. What a foolish selfish girl she had been! She should have told Justin the truth long ago. He might have helped her. Now he must hate and despise her. She could not tell him of the blackmail letter and she could not hope to pay the money demanded of her.

Tears began to trickle down her cheeks. She bent her head, putting her hands to her face, her shoulders shaking as the sobs poured out of her. It was all such
a mess. She had behaved so badly and she could not expect Justin to love her or care for her again.

‘Lucinda! What has happened to make you so unhappy?’

Looking up, she saw the tall comforting figure of Lord Lanchester and stood up, wiping her face with the back of her hand. He produced a large white kerchief and gently mopped the tears from her cheeks.

‘Thank you,’ she said and gulped. ‘I am so very foolish and you must not think Justin is to blame, for he is not. It is all my doing—my grievous fault.’

‘I do not think you can have done anything so very bad, Lucinda.’

‘I fear you do not know. I have done such a dreadful thing. Justin will never forgive me.’

‘Can you tell me?’

She shook her head. ‘I wish that I could tell you, sir. I am in such distress—but I think this is something I must mend for myself.’ She handed him his kerchief and attempted to smile. ‘You must think me a watering pot, my lord.’

‘No such thing. I think you beautiful and brave. It is clear to me that you are deeply troubled. Do you wish me to speak to Justin on your behalf? I know that he has a hot head. Maybe I can make things easier for you.’

‘Please say nothing of me,’ she begged. ‘We have quarrelled—at least, there is a quarrel brewing. I must return and wait for him to come to me.’

‘I shall walk with you. If he offers you harm, tell him he will answer to me, Lucinda.’

The fierce note in his voice made her look at him sharply. ‘Justin has every right to his anger. If you knew what I had done, you might not wish to know me.’

He stopped, turned her and then reached for her hand, holding it between his large ones. ‘Nothing you could do would make me think less of you, Lucinda. I know that your heart is good and whatever you have done was because you thought it right.’

‘Yes, it was right for me—and for someone else,’ she said. ‘But Justin is my husband and he deserves better than I have served him. If he disowns me—may I come to Jane, just until I am settled?’

‘Is it so serious?’

She inclined her head. ‘I have not been unfaithful, yet I believe he has the right to send me away if he chooses.’

His hand held hers as she would have removed it from his clasp. ‘If Avonlea is so blind that he does not know what treasure he has in you, Lucinda, I shall welcome you to my home and do all I can to help you.’

Her eyes stung once more. ‘I would not ask for so much, perhaps a bed for a night—just until I can find accommodation for myself and…’ She hesitated, then, ‘Forgive me, it is too much to ask even of a friend like Jane.’

Before he could say more she broke into a run, leaving him staring after her.

* * *

Justin returned to the house just before tea. He had ridden off the worst of his mood, but his thoughts were no clearer than when he’d left the house earlier. Lucinda
had betrayed his trust by bringing her child into the house and she’d lied to him once more. It was that which hurt him so much. Her lack of trust in him again; it was hurtful and thoughtless. He could find no excuse for her behaviour. His mother would have found her actions outrageous, nay, scandalous, and his father would probably have disowned him for bringing such a woman to his house and thereby dishonouring the family name.

Justin was, he had discovered, more hurt than shocked. He had accepted her story of being raped and would have, had she told him at the time, done his best to see that her child was properly cared for. He knew that he should properly insist that she gave up the child completely, but it must cause any woman distress to be irrevocably parted from her child. As a concession he would allow her to visit the girl sometimes in secret.

Yet was it not too late to cover up the shocking scandal she had created? His servants must all be aware of the child in the house. He was not sure what excuse Lucinda had given for bringing her here—but he hoped she had been sensible. If they were careful, the whole matter might be swept under the carpet and forgotten.

He was glad that he had not flown into a rage. It would be best if the servants believed that he had sanctioned the child’s visit—for that was all it could be, of course. Justin had not yet decided what to do with Lucinda’s daughter, and until then it might be better to allow things to remain as they were. To march into the nursery and have the child dragged away screaming
would only make matters worse. No, he must discuss this in a civilised manner and make Lucinda understand that she could not keep her daughter here.

He would speak to her in private once the servants had brought in their tea. Surely, her own common sense must tell her that she could not continue in this way?

* * *

Lucinda knew that Justin had returned and gone straight up to his room. She debated whether to go after him and try to apologise, but decided that it would be best to wait until he was ready to speak to her.

She went to the parlour where they normally had tea when there were no guests and sat down, waiting for Justin to come. Her nerves were jangling and when the door opened she rose to her feet, feeling almost sick. Was she about to be cast out by an outraged husband?

‘Lady Mariah Fanshawe,’ the housekeeper announced as she entered the parlour. ‘Her ladyship has just arrived, your Grace. Shall I give her the green room as usual?’

For a moment Lucinda was speechless as the very elegant and beautiful woman swept into the room and moved towards her in a cloud of expensive and slightly overpowering perfume.

‘My dear Duchess,’ the woman gushed. ‘Forgive me for arriving uninvited and unannounced like this, but I was dying to meet you. I have but recently returned from Italy and I did not know of Avonlea’s marriage.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Lucinda nodded to the housekeeper.
‘The green room if Lady…Fanshawe normally has it when she visits. And serve the tea now, please.’

The woman looked at her and burst into laughter, a low seductive laughter that seemed to imply so many things.

‘You do not know who I am, of course. How naughty of Justin not to tell you about me, Lucinda! I may call you that, I hope? We grew up almost as sister and brother after my parents died—and I was desperately in love with him until I grew up and married my darling Winston.’

‘Is Winston with you?’ Lucinda said, beginning to recover from the shock.

‘Always, though not in the flesh. I have been a widow for the past fifteen months—which was why I decided to travel. One must wear black for such a long time and it simply does not suit me. I cannot weep and pretend that I am heartbroken. Winston was more like a father to me. He spoiled me shamelessly and gave me my own way—which was something Justin would not and the reason I turned him down and broke his heart by marrying a man twice my age.’

‘Please, won’t you sit down?’ Lucinda was both bewildered and fascinated by the whirlwind that had invaded her sitting room. ‘I was expecting Justin for tea. He does not know you are coming?’

‘I lived here for years when I was in the schoolroom.’ Lady Fanshawe tapped her fingers on the wooden arm of her elbow chair. She had taken the one Justin normally
used and seemed quite at home as she looked about the pretty room. ‘I am so pleased you have not changed this, Lucinda. I was afraid everything would be different—and I think of this as home, you know.’

‘I had no idea,’ Lucinda said. She glanced up as the door opened and Justin walked in, rising nervously to her feet. ‘Justin—we have a visitor. Mrs Mann will bring tea in a few moments.’

‘Mariah!’ Justin’s tone registered shock, as did his face. She had risen to her feet and moved towards him, opening her arms for his embrace. ‘I had no idea you had returned from Italy. You might have written to let us know you were coming.’

‘You always told me this is my home,’ she said in a scolding tone and placed a kiss on his mouth, her arms going about him, her fingers playing in his hair as she ruffled it. ‘Please do not tell me that things have changed. I am sure poor darling Lucinda will be glad of my company if you are always such a bear.’

‘Mariah, behave yourself,’ Justin said, but he was smiling at her with the ease of friendship. ‘Lucinda, I apologise for this mad scamp. She has no notions of propriety at all and never did.’

‘You see.’ Mariah turned to Lucinda in a haze of perfume and smiling charm. With her dark blond hair and greenish eyes, she was a sultry beauty, irresistible, because she refused to be resisted. ‘That is why I turned him down and married my darling Winston. He never scolded me once in the whole of our marriage.’

‘You bewitched the poor fellow,’ Justin accused and took a chair by the window where he could sit and look at them. ‘He hardly knew where he was before you had him marched to the altar.’

‘But he adored me and he was blissfully happy until the last hour of his life,’ Mariah said and smiled. ‘He would not wish me to mourn him, Justin. He was forever telling me that he did not know what he had done to deserve me.’

‘No, I dare say he did not. Poor fellow.’

Mariah pouted at him. ‘You are such a grouchy bear, Justin. I pity poor darling Lucinda. What a time she must have with you.’

‘Oh, I think my wife need not be pitied,’ Justin said and his gaze centred on Lucinda.

She blushed, but was saved from replying by the arrival of their tea. The next half an hour flew by as they ate tiny cakes and tarts and sipped a fine China tea. Mariah’s chatter filled any silences and Lucinda found her an easy guest. Indeed, she was so at ease that it might have been her home and Lucinda the guest.

‘Well, I shall go up and rest before dinner,’ Mariah said at the end of some thirty-odd minutes. ‘You can abuse me all you wish in my absence, Justin. No, Lucinda, you need not come with me. Mrs Mann will look after me.’

Lucinda rose to her feet. ‘I think I shall follow your example.’

Justin had risen as soon as Mariah did, but as Lucinda
moved to follow her he stepped forwards and caught hold of her wrist.

‘I was hoping for a moment of your time, my love.’

Lucinda gazed up at him, seeing the steel in his eyes. She stood where she was, feeling as if turned to stone, waiting for the axe to fall.

Justin waited until the door closed behind Mariah. ‘I am sorry Mariah descended on us with no warning. It was remiss of me not to tell you about her. We were close at one time and it is true that I might have married her had she not had the sense to refuse me.’

Lucinda stiffened, schooling her features to remain impassive. ‘You do not need to explain. Lady Fanshawe has already told me.’

‘Indeed, I wonder whether her version was the truth. No matter. We have more important things to concern us—the child I saw earlier. I think I know the truth, but please give me the explanation you have given my servants.’

‘Alice has told them she is my deceased cousin’s child.’

Justin’s mouth hardened. ‘At least you have some notion of decency. The likeness is not so marked that such a story would be immediately seen as false, though some may doubt it and the whispers may start if she continues to stay here.’

Lucinda’s cheeks had begun to burn. ‘Forgive me. I should not have allowed her to play in the nursery. I thought she would be warm and comfortable in the
attic, but it was too confining for her. She was with my old nanny in a cottage in the woods for a while, but she was ill all the time and so…’

Justin’s brow creased. ‘You brought her here and thought you could keep her presence a secret from me. Tell me, Lucinda, what have I done to deserve such treatment from you? Do you not think you owed me the courtesy to ask if you might bring the child here?’

His quiet tones of reproach took her breath. She hardly knew how to answer him. He was very much the Duke of Avonlea. Tall, handsome and reserved, his disapproval cut her to the heart.

‘You have done nothing, Justin. Of course you have not. I was…afraid to tell you at the start, because I knew…that you would not permit me to keep my child here.’

‘Was she the reason for your long walks?’

‘Yes…’ She caught her breath. ‘She cried when I was not with her. She had been ill treated, Justin. I swear to you, though, that I did not know that she was alive until the day of our wedding. The blackmail letter…’

‘Ah, yes, now I begin to understand. Pray, tell me what happened when you discovered you had a living daughter? You ran away in a panic and then what happened?’

‘At first my mother refused to tell me anything. My father gave my child away to the workhouse as soon as she was born, abandoned her to a terrible fate. She was given to a childless couple who afterwards had
children of their own—and she was made to work. I saw her carrying slops to the midden.’

‘How did you persuade these people to release the child?’

‘They did not…’ She hung her head, not daring to look at him. ‘Angela was thin and desperately unhappy. I watched for a few days and then—I stole her away and, after a while, I brought her here to a cottage in the woods. I thought you could not want me once you knew my secret. It was my intention to ask if you would give me a little money, because I had spent most of what I had. As you know, I have a tiny income of my own and I am prepared to work for what we need, but I needed a decent cottage where we could live until I could support her and a nanny. I should not have asked for much. I thought I might go somewhere and live in seclusion with her, but then—you were angry and refused to allow me to leave.’