Authors: Fenella J Miller
'What do you mean the place is uninhabited?'
Alex glared at his man of business, William Hill, who he'd sent to check on the
cottage.
'The place is
deserted, your grace, the shutters up and the stable empty. I reckon it's been
like that for a day or two.'
'Thank you, you may go.' The
man bowed and retreated.
Alexander wanted to hurl the nearest
object through the window. This was an unmitigated disaster. Why hadn't he had
the place checked immediately? He gripped the edge of his desk forcing his
anger back— never again would he let his temper rule his
behaviour
.
Isobel's disappearance was no more than he deserved. He had driven her way. He
sank into the nearest chair, dropping his head in his hands in despair.
He would not relinquish the
search until he was certain she was well and had sufficient funds to live
comfortably. He prayed the scandal never reached the outside world. With luck
no one, apart from the staff at Newcomb, would know she had gone. She rarely
joined him in London, and there were no close acquaintances to make enquiries.
Perhaps her disappearance could be
kept secret? He was certain the unfortunate chamber-maids, who had been obliged
to clear up the mess he'd made, would not risk their position by gossiping. He
would let it be known Isobel had gone to Norfolk to be with her ailing mother—
no one would dare question his word. His fingers clenched. What was he thinking
of? Let the scandal mongers say what they like—he'd willingly sacrifice his
good name if it would bring his wife back to his side.
But where would she go? He would not
mount a full-scale pursuit but send out a few discreet enquiries. They should
not be too difficult to find despite having had two days start. A gig
containing two large black dogs, along with a beautiful young woman and her
maid, would be noticed when they trotted through a village or town.
The thought of Isobel being tossed
about in that ancient vehicle filled him with remorse. He'd never drink to
excess again and would root out the bad influences in his life. From this
moment forward he would be a better man. Perhaps when he found her she might be
prepared to forgive him. He intended to spend the rest of his life making
amends, would never take her for granted again, if she ever consented to
return.
He'd never considered the notion of
bringing her back by force. If she wished to remain estranged, then so be it.
He would retire from society. Now the wretched war was over he could travel
abroad and leave his heartbreak behind. Ten years ago he'd been a different
man. This mausoleum had been a happy place filled with the laughter of his
little daughters and his beloved Eleanor. He'd taken due interest in his
tenants, paid attention to his friends and was not the arrogant, hedonistic
bastard he'd become.
Small wonder those
that used to be his intimates had, over the years, refused his invitations. To
fill his loneliness he'd surrounded himself with toadies, sycophants and people
not worthy of his attention. Into this hellhole he'd brought his innocent
bride, tainted her by association. Look what this degeneracy had led to?
Not bothering to ring for
attention, he strode to the door and roared down the corridor. 'Foster, have
Hill return immediately. I shall wait for him in my study.'
His butler must have been lurking in
the shadows for he stepped forward bowing obsequiously. 'You haven't taken
breakfast again this morning, your grace. Shall I have something sent to you?'
Alexander was about to refuse for
he'd had little appetite these past two days, but he needed his strength, he
could not afford to become unwell. 'As you wish— I want coffee served with it.'
His study was
the one place where he was comfortable. Eleanor and the children had never
entered here so it wasn't linked to their deaths. He'd no idea if Isobel had
investigated this room in his absence; he hoped she had, for then he would feel
closer to her.
The thought of what Isobel had
endured since their marriage almost unmanned him. He'd kept her like an inmate
of an asylum. Her wardens had been his too attentive staff. He had been so
immersed his own selfish affairs he'd never considered how unhappy she must be
with no friends or family to support her.
Hill arrived at the same time as his
breakfast and on impulse he invited his man of affairs to join him. They sat
and munched together and Alexander was surprised how hungry he was. 'I want you
to select three discreet and reliable men, have them ride out and make
enquiries as to the direction my wife has taken. They are not to make
themselves known, merely follow. When she's settled they can send word to me.'
'My lord, might
I suggest we send the men in pairs? That way one can come back with news whilst
the other
continue
his surveillance.'
'Good man,
arrange that if you will. I intend to wait two weeks and then close Newcomb,
take my staff and move permanently to Town. Make sure these men are aware of my
movements and that they don't report here when I’m gone.'
'Do you wish me to remain in your
absence, your grace? Or shall I accompany you to London?'
'Come with me,
set
yourself
up somewhere. God knows, there are enough
rooms in Grosvenor Square.' He reached into his desk and withdrew a wallet
filled with paper notes. He added a substantial bag of coins and the matter was
settled.
When the chambermaid had removed the
empty tray he stretched out on the day bed in front of the fire. He had not
slept since Isobel had run away, every time he closed his eyes he relived his
actions and woke sweating and ashamed. He no longer attempted to sleep in his
room but took catnaps in his study whenever his eyes refused to stay open.
As he was
drifting off to sleep he reviewed what he knew about Isobel's flight. He was
certain she had at least three hundred pounds in her possession. Each quarter
she had the full amount of her allowance and, as far as he was aware, had spent
none of it on frills and furbelows. The cost of maintaining her two servants
was negligible. Had she somehow anticipated that one day this moment could come
and she would need funds to make good her escape?
When
Foster had informed him Isobel was hoarding money in her closet he had been
horrified his staff believed he wished them to spy on her. He had told Foster
in no uncertain terms to mind his own business and make sure the staff did the
same. No further reports were given to him, but with hindsight he
realised
this surveillance had probably continued. Should
he ask his butler if he knew where Isobel intended to go? What was he thinking?
He would never discuss his wife with that dried up stick of a man.
He jackknifed— all desire for sleep
vanishing. There was one thing he
could
do which would prove to her how
much he'd changed. He would get his lawyers to ferret out his heir. There must
be one somewhere, his grandfather had had several younger brothers and one of
them must have managed to produce a male between them. He would groom this
gentleman,
teach him everything he would need to become the
next Duke of Rochester. Surely this would prove to Isobel he had accepted she
was unable to bear him children, and that he was happy to live his life without
setting up his nursery?
*
The two weeks passed with no news of Isobel.
She appeared to have vanished without trace. He could procrastinate no longer.
He'd had word from his lawyers that one, Richard Bentley
Esq
,
had been located and was on his way to meet him in Town.
Newcomb was
under
holland
covers, several diligences had already
departed with items of furniture that he could not live without, plus the
majority of his wardrobe. The exodus was like a military operation.
Transferring over hundred staff and their belongings, as well as his own, to
Grosvenor Square required careful planning and execution. He would be glad to
turn his back on this place. The building now held nothing but unhappy
memories, his first wife and daughters had died here and then Isobel had left
him.
He was resigned to the fact she
might never come back, that he would have to spend the rest of his life alone.
He would never divorce her. He had no wish for another wife. Isobel was
everything a man could want.
Lady Fulbright,
his ex-mistress, had cornered him at a card party the last time he'd been in
Town and made it blatantly obvious she was more than willing to resume their
relationship. He recalled the heartache his father had caused by his frequent
adulteries and firmly rebuffed her overture.
He shook his head. He would never be
so self-indulgent— stopping his drinking and gambling was only half the task.
To give in to the demands of the flesh would make him a lesser man. Indeed, he
was in every way a much reduced specimen. His years of overindulgence showed in
the flab on his once lean torso. If he attempted a round at Jackson's he would
be floored in seconds. That was something else he would pay attention to,
whether he ever persuaded Isobel to return or not, he would get himself back in
shape, be someone she could respect, even if she could never forgive.
One day his men
would discover her whereabouts. He would ride to her and she would see the
difference in him, would know he was a changed man, and maybe reconsider. He
closed his eyes and her image filled his head. The way she used to smile at
him, the way her eyes lit up when he entered the room, her delight when he
returned and the refreshing innocence with which she welcomed him into her bed
— how could he have been so stupid? She had offered him something precious and
like a fool he'd crushed her gift beneath his feet.
Chapter Eight
Isobel sat back, her forehead clammy, her head
spinning, and thanked God the retching was over. Mary removed the basin and
replaced it with a clean vessel. Isobel accepted a cool drink, rinsed her mouth
and spat the last of the noxious matter into the bowl. There was no doubt, she
had to accept the impossible—she was increasing.
'I shall have to
return to Newcomb, Mary, I don't wish to, but I am with child. I've suspected
so for some time but could scarcely believe it. I haven't had my courses since
we arrived and that must be more than eight weeks ago. Whatever my feelings for
the duke, I can't deny this child its birthright.'
Mary nodded.
'I've known for weeks, madam, but didn't like to say considering the
circumstances. I've been waiting for you to draw the same conclusion. You
needed time to recover from what happened without further anxiety. But Sam and
I have things
organised
. We can be ready to leave any
time you want.'
Sally Harris,
who had been turned off by her previous employers, had joined them a few days
after their arrival at Home Farm. The young woman now acted as her
abigail
. Isobel turned to her. 'Sally, I shall be returning
to Hertfordshire, to Newcomb, are you willing to accompany me?'
'I'd be
delighted, madam, if you're sure the likes of me will be allowed to serve you
at such a
grand
place.'
Isobel stood up,
smiling at the young woman she'd become quite fond of these past weeks. 'It
will be very different from living here, but I intend to have my own people around
me. You’ll be answerable to me and no one else.'
Sally curtsied.
'I'll get started packing your clothes, madam, if you don't require my
services'
'No, I wish to
speak to
Mrs
Watkins. I shall ring if I need you.'
The two basins
were removed to the dressing room leaving Mary alone with her. 'I'll not be
browbeaten by the staff this time; I intend my return to be on
my
terms.'
'You have our full support, and I'm
certain sure the others you've taken on here will be more
than
happy to come with us.'
'Bill has made an excellent footman,
so he shall be my butler. His experience, serving as a valet to a brigadier
during the war, has given him all the skills he needs for this post. His leg
injury has been no impediment to his efficiency so far.' Isobel considered the
other staff. The cook and kitchen maid, a mother and daughter had been made
homeless when the man of the house died. These two would be pleased to
accompany her. However the two women who came in to do the heavy work had
families of their own. They would wish to remain in Norfolk. She would leave
the maintenance of the house in their capable hands.
'Will you please
inform everyone, Mary? Betty and Ada will require sufficient funds to tide them
over until our return.'
'Yes, madam.'
Mary fiddled with an apron before continuing.
'Shall we call you by your title in future? Being plain
Mrs
Baverstock is all very well out here in the country, but at Newcomb things will
be different.'
Isobel was relieved her friend made
no comment about her intention to return. 'I have no choice, so I suppose it's
better to resume my title now and become used to hearing myself addressed by
it. I wish to leave the day after tomorrow; I'm sure the roads will have dried
by then.'