“Why must it be in the church?” she demanded. “If we have a license—”
“An ordinary license is only valid in the church where one of the parties has lived for, I believe, at least four weeks. You do not live here, obviously. I assume Lord Rutherford has resided here for the required length of time?” He peered down his nose at her.
“Yes, yes, of course,” she lied. It was obvious that the while the vicar might not be particular about verifying residency, he would insist on the ceremony being held in a church. “Very well, take the carriage and make arrangements in the village. But do hurry. My aunt earnestly wishes us to be married today.”
“Why is your aunt not here with us?” He removed a silver snuff box from his coat.
“A small illness prevents her from traveling. She will host a celebration when we return to London.” At least, Jeanne hoped she would. Her aunt would disapprove of a wedding ceremony performed while Lady Rutherford remained in such precarious health. But as Jeanne had reached the age of majority, her aunt’s approval was not necessary.
“Ah, I am grieved to hear it.” The minister took a pinch of snuff into each nostril, following with a series of deep snorts.
Jeanne rapped on the carriage window. “Open up now, please!”
She hurried through the entrance to the house, removing wraps and greeting Mr. Groves inattentively while pondering the problem of how to keep Edmund from escaping during the ride to the church. But she realized she needed to acquaint Mr. Groves with the situation.
“I come on a happy errand today, Mr. Groves. Lord Rutherford and I are to be married this morning.”
“Married?” The man looked so taken aback that he actually took a step backward. “Well that’s…do you think it…he will…he will need…” He pursed his lips. “This is most unusual, you understand. He will need approval from his committee, and I am not yet aware that the procedure has been formalized. As a matter of fact, he was trying to contact his solicitor concerning the matter only—”
“That has all been arranged.” Jeanne smiled. “The committee has approved the wedding, and a license has been obtained.” She was grateful that the document itself bore no evidence of the copious amounts of flattery, flirtation and funds needed to obtain it on such short notice.
Mr. Groves folded his hands and nodded. “Can I assume, then, that Lord Rutherford will be leaving us after the ceremony? Once the physicians have approved it, of course.”
“Well,” Jeanne twisted a loose strand of hair at the nape of her neck, “the committee has not yet actually approved the move. But such approval will be forthcoming, I have no doubt, when Ed-Lord Rutherford displays appropriate behavior.”
“Err, yes.” Mr. Groves looked down and straightened his waistcoat, shifting slightly from side to side as he did so. Then he looked up again. “This really is most unusual. Are you…? But then, it is not my position to—”
“No.” Jeanne smiled sweetly. “It is not. Would you be so good as to tell Lord Rutherford of my arrival and the splendid news about our wedding? I shall wait for him in the drawing room.”
Inside by herself, she sat down and took a deep breath. If Mr. Groves were to accompany them in the carriage to the church, or if he would permit two of those muscled men who always seemed to lurk in the corners to accompany them, then they could catch Edmund if he tried to jump out along the way. They would all remain with him from house to church, so he would have no opportunity to trick someone into letting him go free. This ceremony would probably be carried off.
But even afterward, Edmund could not be trusted, could he? He might yet escape and broadcast embarrassing stories of a forced marriage from the asylum. Or he might try to obtain an annulment or divorce.
Jeanne felt her hands shaking as she gripped the edge of her chair. This would never end. This nightmare of worry and deceit would never end. She would live every hour of every day wondering how Edmund was going to try to get away from her.
Her solitude was soon interrupted by the arrival of a tall, skinny young man accompanied by one of those heavy muscled men of the staff. The latter helped the former get settled at the writing desk before moving to a post outside the door.
Jeanne turned her attention to the fire several feet away, willing the warmth to soothe her frayed nerves and shaking fingers. She stood, walked closer to the fire, then turned so that she could see the young man at the desk.
He looked familiar.
She rubbed her hands, then spread them over the flames.
He was the young man who had attacked Edmund at the opera.
She looked back at him again, but it was difficult to tell from this distance, so she moved closer. And closer.
And suddenly, she thought of a means to make all her worries disappear.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lucia had been watching for Lord Rutherford from the moment their trap pulled to a stop in front of Shady View. For three days now, from the outside of the building, from the inside of every room, at the sound of every footfall, every door opening, she braced herself to turn away so she would not have to meet his gaze. And it was necessary to brace herself, because she wanted to see him despite the dishonor he had confessed.
He had sought her help. He did value her “cleverness and loyalty”. And perhaps his reasons for feigning insanity…
She actually stamped her foot to stop this unfruitful line of thought before it could go any further. She wanted desperately to recapture the anger that had so consumed her when she first learned of the deception. All that seemed to remain now, however, was an aching sense of loss.
She paced with restless abandon back and forth down the passage from the entrance, hoping that her exercise did not disturb the gentleman in the side parlor playing chess with a stuffed dog. The dog appeared to have captured the majority of pieces. Lucia tripped on a throw rug and staggered into the nearest chair, grasping it clumsily to steady herself.
And then Lord Rutherford appeared in the passage, dressed in a dark formal suit with a greatcoat draped over his arm and a hat tucked under it. Two heavyset employees of the house accompanied him. If he had observed her uncouth athletic display, he gave no sign, greeting her with an implacable cheery smile. He bowed. “Good morning, Miss Wright.” Then his forehead creased with concern. “Have you injured your hand?” He stepped closer.
She could no more turn away from him than she could fly to the ceiling by flapping her arms. She wanted to see him again. He was all she had thought of for three days and nights. If the woman to whom he was affianced was truly unprincipled, then he wasn’t really wrong in seeking to avoid attachment to her. Though the means by which he sought to end the engagement had been poorly chosen, she could forgive him that, for he truly had not understood the pain he had caused. “G-good morning, Lord Rutherford.”
“Your hand—may I see it?” He reached out to her with genuine concern.
“My hand?” She looked down at her fingers clasped together and realized that she had been rubbing a sore spot on the side of one hand where she hit the chair with greatest force. Immediately she dropped her hands to her sides. “It is nothing, my lord.” She wanted to remain formal, to keep her distance, to erase the familiarity that had grown between them during the time of their acquaintance. She would do nothing that might encourage him to take her hand.
But each of these resolves required more effort than she would have believed possible only a few minutes before. She suddenly realized the significance of the coat and hat. “D-do you leave today?”
“For a brief excursion, yes.” His smile radiated more warmth than any fire.
“Oh.” She could feel her cheeks flush. But she told herself that he was probably only being so attentive so that she would agree to help with his wretched plan. “I-I was not aware that Mr. Groves permitted excursions.”
“This is a special case, I believe. We, Miss Newman and myself, accompanied by various and sundry persons,” he glanced at the heavyset men, “are taking a trip to the village church to be married.”
A large chunk of stone settled in the bottom of Lucia’s chest. She simply stared at him for a moment.
If he bore any continued objection to the wedding plan that had so distressed him earlier, he evinced none of it. His face and voice radiated cheerful good humor.
“And-and then you shall return home,” she said finally. With
her
. Whoever she was. The unfortunate, damnably lucky lady.
“Oh, eventually I shall, if I am good. But not today, I believe.”
“Oh.” The weight in her chest lifted just enough to allow one more breath of air. “Then perhaps I will see you…sometime after.”
“Yes.” The aura of bright cheer faded from his face and voice, and it became obvious that his high spirits had been the result of a determined effort rather than a true sense of happiness. “I should like to see you again,” he added softly.
“Goodbye, Lord Rutherford.” Her voice sounded gravelly and choked, and she didn’t want to even imagine how she must look.
“Goodbye, Miss Wright.” He took her hand as if to shake farewell, then put it to his lips. “Thank you,” he murmured.
Why would he thank her? “What do you—”
“There you are, Edmund. I’ve been searching all over this house.” A tall, elegant young lady swept down the passage toward them, her face flushed and gray eyes glittering.
“As your humble and obedient servant, I wait here by the door, as I believe you ordered me to do.”
“Yes, well, perhaps you wait a little
too
close to the door.” She glanced at Lucia. “Saying goodbye to the servants, are you?”
“Jeanne, you may dispense with manners when speaking with me, but I will not permit such rude behavior to others. Apologize to Miss Wright.”
Lucia began to back away. “No, please don’t—”
“Oh, she is not one of the servants, then?”
“Jeanne.” Edmund’s voice took on a low, menacing tone that Lucia had never heard before.
“Do forgive me,” Jeanne extended her hand, “Miss Wright. That shade of
brown
really is rather becoming on you, you know.”
“Th-thank you,” Lucia stammered, uncertain how to reply to an insult when framed as a nominal compliment.
“There, see?” Jeanne smiled. “All is forgiven. Now I do hope you will excuse—”
“If all is forgiven, the credit goes entirely to Miss Wright for her display of mannered restraint,” Lord Rutherford interrupted. “I am not sure you can count on as much from
me
.”
“Restraint, like any other virtue, can be cultivated, Edmund dear.” Jeanne smiled with a hint of a glance at the heavyset men. “Now we really must keep our appointment with the vicar. You will excuse us, Miss Wright?”
“Of course,” Lucia murmured with the sensation that she was fading to smaller and smaller proportions into the shadows. “I wish you both the greatest happiness.” She turned and fled the room so that her wish for happiness would not be undermined with a show of tears.
* * * * *
Edmund stared past the golden gleam of Jeanne’s hair out the window of the carriage as they started to move. He and Jeanne had been permitted to ride alone in the Rutherford carriage, but Mr. Groves had placed an attendant with the coachman and he rode in a separate carriage following closely behind, leaving Edward no chance of escape even if he intended to make one.
Jeanne leaned forward to catch his gaze. “Can you not at least pretend to be happy or at least
willing
to participate in your own wedding?”
Edmund sighed. “I tried, Jeanne. I really tried to be cheerful for your sake. But the scene in the entry at Shady View made it difficult to maintain the illusion.”
“Was that woman your mistress? I saw you kiss her hand.”
“No, she is a young lady of my acquaintance. A friend. And a quick kiss of her gloved hand is hardly a gesture worth working yourself into a jealous rage over.”
“You have never done as much for me.”
“What? I am sure I’ve kissed your hand scores of times in the years we’ve been together.”
“But in all those years, you’ve never
looked
at me that way.”
Was his regard for Miss Wright so obvious to everyone? “What do you mean? You imagine—”
“That look of adoration, of longing, of sadness—”
“I said, you imagine what you want. I was saying goodbye to a friend whom I shall very likely never see again. Was I a bit sad? Perhaps. Is it worth an argument? No.” Edmund sat back as far as the padded seatback would allow.
“I still believe that woman was your mistress.”
“Do not be ridiculous, Jeanne. Miss Wright is obviously a lady of good character. Not likely to be any man’s mistress.” Which was a damned shame, because if she were, he might have a chance at some happiness in his marriage. Of course, if she were, she would not be herself, and then she would not be half so appealing.
He sighed again and turned his gaze back to the window as with each clop of horses’ hooves, the house faded further from view.
* * * * *
“Good morning, Geoffrey.” Lucia reached down to the settee to give her brother an unaccustomed hug, needing the closeness, the reassurance of family warmth.