An Unnatural Daughter: A Dark Regency Mystery (8 page)

CHAPTER 12

Least Said

Since he had told me that I was to be married, Father seemed to push me out of his way. When I tapped on his study door the following morning with a glass of water and some biscuits, he had waved me away with an impatient and fluttering hand. He insisted on eating dinner alone in there too, shooing me away once more as he mumbled about being terribly busy and having lots to arrange. I felt a crawling, curling feeling in my stomach, and my chest felt empty. It seemed as though in his mind, I had already left him.

For three days I barely saw him. I heard nothing of the wedding, I didn’t dare bring it up. It seemed wrong to try and break the silence Father so determinedly surrounded himself with. On the fourth day we received a note, delivered by a woman in black who hurried away without a word. Father snatched the note from my hand and squirreled himself away for a few hours. It wasn’t until the shadows had lengthened and the tallow candles had been lit that I was called in to the study. I can’t describe how it felt in there, other than that it seemed as though the wall of silence had dissolved into a heavy mist. Father looked puffy and damp, although he was perfectly dry.

‘Mr Raynor has written,’ he said, holding the note between his short, thick fingers and flicking it this way and that.

‘Oh,’ I said, as the silence suggested that I give an answer. ‘What did he say?’

Father scowled and huffed.

‘Arrangements, you know. Times, dates, places and whatnot. He wants us – ah, that is to say, you, to be prepared. He’s a very organised man, Mr Raynor. You’d do well to remember that. He likes things just so.’

‘Oh.’ The silence again, as Father stared glumly at his desk, where the note sat folded in front of him.

‘Yes. Well I suppose it’s a good thing in a way, because it means that there really isn’t a terribly large amount for us- that is, for me to do. It is usually the bride’s father, in these situations, I hear, so…’

Father looked flustered, and two pink spots appeared high on his cheeks. I noticed an empty glass at his elbow, and the dusty old bottle which had been kept in the back of the kitchen cupboard for as long as I could remember stood on the floor, and wasn’t so dusty any more.

‘There’s really nothing for you or I to do, Fleur, but wait, and obviously, you know, be there for the wedding.’

‘When is it to be, Father?’

‘What? Oh, you mean the wedding. Of course.’ Father cleared his throat and blinked a couple of times. ‘Thursday.’

‘So soon?’

‘Not soon enough, eh?’ He grinned, and it was unnerving. ‘Least said, soonest mended. Or, is that right? I can’t remember. I called you in here for – ah yes. Well, there is something we need to do, to prepare. Or that I need to do, to tell you about, so you are prepared, as Mr Raynor likes to be prepared. As I said. Didn’t I say that?’

I nodded, and rubbed at a patch of rough skin on my finger.

‘I did? Good. Well the thing of it is, Fleur, that this isn’t really something I wanted to have to speak to you about.’ Father tugged at his collar, although it was already loose. ‘If you had some sort of female – your mother would have been best, but unfortunately… but another woman would have been better than me.’

I watched Father with concern as he tugged at his collar again before reaching across to the glass, and dropping his arm on the desk when he saw that it was empty. He shook his head, then cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

‘When you’re married, there are things that are expected of you. By your husband. Erm, demands, if you like, that he will make on your time. For children. So you can have children. Do you know what I’m talking about?’

I gave a shrug and bit my lip. His discomfort was infectious.

‘Ah. At night, probably the night of your wedding, perhaps not, but at night he will come to your bed and ah- I won’t – that is to say, it would really be extraneous to go into any detail beyond the fact that you must be prepared for him to- ah, to expect you to be expecting him. If you understand me.’

I didn’t.

‘He’ll just- he might not be wearing clothes. You should be aware of that. He might. I don’t know.’ Father started to laugh, a desperate howl that quickly stopped when he saw that I wasn’t laughing too. ‘Ahem. Just… I should probably tell you that it’s all perfectly normal and nothing to be scared of. It won’t be very nice, but if you just, I don’t know, think of something else, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just don’t say anything. You don’t have to move, and it’ll be fine. You can close your eyes, if you like.’

He looked triumphant as he gave a decisive nod and began to reach for his empty glass again, scowling at it when he realised.

‘For children?’ I asked finally. ‘He’s going to come into my room and I shan’t enjoy it, but it’ll mean I will have children?’

‘Oh yes. I knew you’d pick it up. It’s perfectly normal. Nothing to worry about. Just, ah- just thought you should know. You’ll want children, of course.’

‘I hadn’t really-’

‘That wasn’t too bad, was it?’ Father laughed again and smoothed the note on his desk with unsteady hands. ‘Nothing to worry about. All sorted. Jolly good. You can go now.’

‘Well I-’

‘Yes, that’ll be all. See you tomorrow, Fleur.’

As I left, he reached for the glass again.

CHAPTER 13

Alice Who Looked at the Stars

We were quiet for the rest of the day. With Tristan gone and with us all stepping on eggshells to be quiet in the creaky old house so as not to wake Father, Edwina, Jane and I simply sat together and read or sewed in silence. As night fell and the house began to settle, I found myself straining my ears to hear any creaks made by Orlando. As I tried to concentrate on the darning I was helping Jane with, my eyes kept straying towards the hanging. It swayed softly in the heat caused by the low fire. Tired out by the trip to market, Edwina nodded and yawned over her book for a good half an hour before she admitted defeat and declared herself ready for bed.

As the shadows had lengthened and my stitches became harder to see, so grew my fear. Everything seemed worse at night. I felt myself begin to sweat, and felt my back knot as tension built in my neck. Nothing had got any better with the arrival of my father. I hated to think it, but couldn’t stop myself feeling that it would have been better if Gabriel had died. I was unnatural, that was the word that kept returning to me and burning through my mind. I killed my mother, I tried to kill Gabriel, and the way it was going now, I would end up causing the death of my father. So unnatural a daughter was I.

Sleep eluded me, for I would not let it claim me. In my room, so pretty in the light, I sat bolt upright in bed, my knees bent and hugged to my chest, staring into the dark.

I don’t know how long I sat there, but minutes seemed to stretch for hours and nothing happened, yet I could not bring myself to close my eyes. I was waiting, for what I did not know, but waiting nonetheless for some sort of resolve. Gabriel was tightening the net on me once again, and I feared I could not escape. To run now would mean leaving my father, as he was so frail still, he could not travel with me. That would bring Gabriel to Tristan and Edwina, and I did not wish for them to face his wrath. My only option seemed to be to wait, but I was oh, so tired of waiting.

In the silence as I stared at the unwavering shadows, I heard an almost imperceptible creak in the ceiling above me. Orlando. I rubbed my locket between my fingers again, as though that would give me strength and resolve, then left my bed, picking up my wrapper as I did so. Then I made my way towards the stairs.

My ankle was still a little tender, but I left the cane and chanced that I could make my way down quietly enough. There was the odd little creak, but I was proud when I made it to the bottom, and turned to see the rickety stairs I had, in effect, beaten.

‘I wondered if it would be you.’

I almost cried out in surprise. Orlando had appeared in the doorway to the sitting room, and stood leaning against the doorjamb, smiling at me.

‘You heard me?’ I whispered back.

‘You weren’t so quiet. But you did well,’ he continued at the sight of my irritation, ‘considering your injuries. You seem a lot better.’

I nodded, and he stood to one side or the door and bowed, gesturing me through.

‘And you assume I came to see you?’ I said with a wry smile, stopping and turning as I entered the room.

He stepped forward and stood scant inches away from me. I felt the need for my cane to lean on.

‘I assumed you didn’t make a habit of creeping around to meet men in the dark,’ he whispered, his words a soft hush in my ear. I could smell the heat of him again, and lost my nerve, turning again and taking a few steps away.

‘A fair point.’

‘Come,’ Orlando extended a hand to me and gestured towards the window. ‘Do you think you can climb through?’

‘I suppose, but why?’

He gave a smile.

‘Only that we can talk more freely away from the house, and I’ve found the window is by far the quietest exit.’ He leaned closer to me and breathed in my ear, ‘You needn’t fear for your virtue.’

He said it like he was daring me to refuse.

‘Well of course not,’ I snapped and, ignoring his outstretched hand, made for the window, wrapping my nightgown around my knees and climbing out over the sill. I seemed to be making a habit of leaving houses at night without shoes, but the ground was still dry and the grass felt pleasantly cool and soft beneath my feet. Orlando followed me through the window, pushing the frame closed as he did so.

Orlando took my arm and guided me down through the garden and into the trees beyond. I stepped carefully, trying to avoid the sharp branches and burrs.

‘No shoes?’ He spoke a little louder now we were out of earshot of the house.

‘I wasn’t intending to take a walk. Why do we need to go so far?’

‘I’ve got something to show you. Not far now. You’ll like it, I promise.’

I hesitated for a moment. I was so trusting of my Orlando, but there was no reason I should be. For the first time since I had met him, I felt a moment of doubt. That maybe he was leading me into a trap. He seemed to sense my hesitation and squeezed my arm.

‘I promise,’ he repeated, and perhaps I was a fool, but I trusted him.

A little further on we came to a clearing. Orlando bounded ahead of me and flopped down onto the grass. I stopped by the trees and watched him with interest.

‘What are we doing here?’

He shrugged.

‘Call it a conventional setting for an unconventional girl.’

I harrumphed and he patted the ground invitingly.

‘Come, sit.’

I gathered my skirt in my hand and stepped forwards, flopping down beside him.

‘Isn’t it nice here? Look up, Alice.’

And I did, craning my neck to see past the ring of trees around us and up and out to the sky. Clouds drifted across, marbling the darkness, hiding and revealing the winking stars.

‘It’s lovely,’ I breathed.

‘It’s better at sea.’ Orlando shifted so he was lying beside me.

‘Oh?’ I lay down beside him, making sure I was a good few feet away, for all the good that would do. I didn’t want him to see my face, so he wouldn’t know my interest had been piqued. ‘You’ve been to sea?’

‘I was in the navy.’

‘Ah.’ I wanted to ask if he was who I thought he might be, but at the same time I wanted the secret to hug to myself. I liked the feeling of getting one up on him.

‘You’ve probably met my mother.’ I could hear the smile in his voice. ‘I’m giving you this, you know. If I didn’t want you to know who I was, you’d not have any idea.’

‘You’re Mrs Hudson’s son, aren’t you?’ I propped myself up onto my elbows and looked across at him. ‘What was it – something beginning with D. Daniel?’

‘Damien. Damien Sebastian Hudson, if you’d like all the details.’

He looked supremely comfortable lying back in the grass with his arms crossed behind his head, and I found it slightly irritating.

‘Why are you telling me?’

‘Don’t you want to know?’ He smiled again, and I could see the shine of his teeth in the dim light.

‘That’s not really the point.’

‘I’m hoping you’ll be just as honest with me. What’s your name?’

I hesitated before I said, ‘Alice.’ We both knew, and I heard him sigh, but if there had ever been a chance I would tell him who I was before, there was none now.

‘As you wish,’ he said. ‘But I’ll find out some day. You can’t be so careful forever.’

‘Hmm. So does your mother know you’re here?’ I wanted to change the subject.

‘Oh yes. She saw me just before she met you. If I recall correctly, you were in the garden with Tristan, posing very fetchingly.’

I felt my cheeks burn in the cool night air.

‘It’s terribly uncomfortable to sit for him. I don’t like having people watching me so closely. It’s unnerving.’

‘Especially if you’ve something to hide, I’ll warrant. But I don’t mean to be a bear about that. I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.’

‘You’re terribly confident and sure of yourself.’ I leaned back on my elbows and looked at him, at his loose shirt glowing slightly in the dark.

‘I am, aren’t I?’ He propped himself up onto his elbow. ‘Does it annoy you?’

‘I find you more irritating by the second.’

‘And we’ve only spent a few stolen moments together – imagine if we met properly – how much you’d hate me by the end of that.’

I giggled, and the tension at my lies seemed to evaporate.

‘If your mother knows you’re here, why aren’t you staying with her?’ I pressed on, and he sank down onto his back.

‘I’m not going to tell you everything, you know. I think I’ve been good to you, really, gifting you with my name like that. It doesn’t do me any good for you to know. I’m trusting you.’

‘I didn’t ask you to.’

‘Well, you did, but not in any seriousness. But who knows, perhaps you’ll disappear tomorrow and I’ll never see you again. I’ll just remember you forever as the girl who wasn’t Alice, who looked at the stars with me. That would be rather nice, I think.’

‘I won’t be leaving tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll go. I don’t really want to. But Father-’ I trailed off, not knowing what I could and couldn’t say.

‘Ah, yes. I heard he woke up. You must be pleased.’

‘I am, I just – I wish he’d never come.’ It was out of me in a rush, and I hated myself for showing how unnatural I was to Orlando. Or Damien.

‘Ah. I take it he ties you to whatever it is you’re running from. That who or whatever put you in the state you were in when Tristan found you did the same to him?’

‘You make it sound so obvious. Everyone must know.’

‘It doesn’t take a genius to work it out. I’m certainly not a genius.’

‘I hate the idea of Edwina thinking badly of me,’ I said. ‘I hate that she is involved in my lies and that through it all she’s just so kind to me.’

‘And Tristan.’

‘Of course, him too. I don’t know what to do any more.’ I lay back in the grass and wished myself a world away, up among the stars. ‘I feel that I should have died that night Tristan found me. That it would be better for everyone if I had.’

‘That’s terribly morbid of you.’ He sounded flippant, but he reached across and held my hand.

‘I’m sorry I can’t tell you,’ I said quietly after a long pause.

‘Thank you,’ he squeezed my hand. ‘What are we both if not wrapped up in secrets and lies? It’s so easy to imagine we’re the only two people in the world when we’re out here. Just us, the trees and the stars. Nothing beyond that. No other people and no responsibilities. How wonderful that seems. Only now though. We’d miss them within the week.’

‘I suppose you’re right. I’d like to pretend now though.’

We lay in silence for a few minutes, still hand in hand and looking at the stars. All I could hear were the hush of the trees and his breathing. After a while I wondered if he was asleep, hoped he was, I suppose, which I think is why I started talking again. I hoped for no answer, yet wished for one at the same time.

‘I wonder – what do you think of duty?’

There was a long pause, and I dared think he hadn’t heard me.

‘That’s a loaded question. Can you be more specific?’

I took some time to arrange my thoughts before I answered.

‘In life we always have duties to the people who surround us, don’t we? I don’t know- that is to say - I find I am very naive in what is right and proper with regards to the… obligations and well, duty, which we owe to other people.’

‘Go on,’ he prompted thoughtfully.

‘Well you, for example. You have a duty towards your mother. You have to serve her as a son. Then there is the navy. You have, or you had a duty towards them. But what I want to know is how you know which duty is more important.’

Orlando – no, I must think of him now as Damien – sighed and squeezed my hand.

‘It may surprise you to know that I’ve thought about this. Oh yes, I’m not just some gadding mayfly. But forgive me, this is serious. I take it this is what’s been troubling you?’

I nodded, even though I knew he wouldn’t be able to see me in the darkness.

‘Well Alice, I’m afraid there’s no easy answer. My first duty as an Englishman should be to my country. My first duty as a son should be to my mother.’

‘What if you married?’ I asked in a whisper. ‘Would your wife be more important than your mother? As far as duty, that is?’

‘It’s really not that simple. There are the conventions, and I suppose in my case my duty is to my country before my mother. But part of my mother’s duty is to give me up to service of my country. Do you see what I mean?’

‘I suppose I do.’

‘But it’s not what you wanted to hear? Poor Alice.’ He stroked the back of my hand with his thumb. ‘It’s different with you being a woman, too. Society and tradition dictate you should always be most dutiful to the man who is most dominant in your life. Your father, then if he dies, a brother, or a husband usurps all, if I understand it.’

‘I see.’ It was as I had feared.

‘But there is something to be said, I think, for duty to oneself. Don’t you agree?’