Diamonds & Deceit (30 page)

Cooper hovered in the doorway of the drawing room. Tea had been served, and served again, and he could see guests beginning to glance at the clock with hungry expressions. He glanced to the breakfast room, where James and Thomas were shifting from foot to foot, glancing toward the door.

“Why aren’t they going in to breakfast?” he moaned under his breath.

“Cooper, what is the matter? Have you any idea why the breakfast is not being served?” The rector hovered by his elbow, anxiety sweating from him. “At this rate we shall be late for the service.”

“I am afraid, sir, I am as much in the dark as you are,” Cooper murmured back.

“I don’t see Lord Westlake anywhere. Or, for that matter, the bride and groom.”

The Duchess of Ellingborough sailed into the room. Cooper heard her ringing tones as she addressed the vicar. “It seems there is not to be a wedding after all. It seems quite unreasonable, after I have taken the trouble to come from London. Young girls these days hardly seem to know what they want.”

“No wedding!” The vicar looked scandalized. “It can’t be true. I must speak to the countess at once.”

Guests crowded around the duchess.

“My dear Lady Ellingborough, can this be correct, is the wedding really off?”

“What a terrible shame!”

“No wedding,” Cooper repeated in horror and disbelief. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.” He fled back to the servants’ quarters. His first thought was how Mrs. McRory would take the news. He nearly fell over Martha and Annie, who were right behind the baize door.

“Oh sir, is it true? Is Lady Ada really in London?” Annie gasped.

“You—er—you shouldn’t be eavesdropping,” Cooper tried but failed to maintain his dignity. “In London? What is she doing in London? Who said that?”

“Martha said Tobias said—” Annie began, then shut her mouth quickly as Mrs. McRory loomed behind them.

“Cooper? What is happening out there? Why are the guests not at breakfast? This is most disorderly. I have done my part and I expect you to do yours.”

“I don’t know why they’re not at breakfast,” Cooper said. “I have tried, Mrs. McRory, but there appears to be some delay.”

“Delay! Not in
my
household. You must make them go into breakfast.”

“H-how?” Cooper asked.

“Oh Mrs. McRory, they say there’s to be no wedding! What are we to do with all the cake?” Sarah burst out.

“No wedding?”
Mrs. McRory gave her a disbelieving glance, gathered her skirts in her hands and charged forward, through the baize doors. She looked this way and that, just as Cooper saw Georgiana and Sebastian hurrying past. Mrs. McRory sallied forth.

“My lady, a word, if you please.”

Cooper, Annie, and Martha watched with bated breath through the crack of the door. Mrs. McRory blocked Georgiana’s way, her arms folded.

“I must know, my lady: Is there to be a wedding, or isn’t there?” she asked with dangerous politeness.

Sebastian and Georgiana looked at each other.

“There…will…probably be a wedding…we think…as far as we know…at the moment,” Georgiana stammered.

Mrs. McRory turned several shades of purple and Cooper was almost sure small jets of steam burst from her ears. “Then I must say, I have no further desire to serve in this household, thank you very much, my lady.” She rose onto her tiptoes and shook her finger in Georgiana’s face. “A wedding is the kind of event that should definitely occur or definitely not occur—there is no such thing as being probably married, you think, as far as you know at the moment. There may be in France. But I am glad to say I know nothing of such disorderly matters. Good day, my lady. I wish you the greatest success with your search for a new housekeeper.”

“Mrs. McRory, you don’t mean to say you’re giving notice!” Sebastian exclaimed.

“I am indeed, sir.”

“Hooray!” exclaimed Cooper, then clapped a hand to his mouth. The door swung shut just as Mrs. McRory swiveled to glare at him. Martha and Annie stared at him in disbelief, then broke into giggles. Cooper flushed, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

Michael, seated in the armchair in Mrs. Cliffe’s sitting room, swayed as he tried to stay awake. The doctor had been in with Priya for a long time—Michael could not have said how long exactly—and Michael had been pacing back and forth until finally exhaustion had forced him to sit down. Now he drifted in and out of heavy, tangled dreams. At one point he opened his eyes to find that someone had brought him tea and toast—not that he had the stomach to touch it. He heard footsteps and whispering in the corridor, and once a maid peeked around the door at him. But it was hard to know what was real and what was a nightmare.

All the things he had seen in the last twenty-four hours came rushing back to him as soon as he closed his eyes. Emaciated children, dead-eyed women, Priya’s pale face and distended stomach as she lay like a corpse in that awful shack. He jerked awake at the sound of gunfire, but it was just a cart rattling by over the cobbles.

Mrs. Cliffe was in the room, standing by the window, her arms crossed as if to defend herself.

“How is she?” he managed to ask.

“I’ve heard nothing.” Her face was pale, and she had shadows under her eyes.

“You must prepare yourself,” she was saying, but then he slipped back into sleep, into the horrors of dream. Something had slipped through his fingers, something small and essential, like a key.

He woke with a start. “Where—!” he started to cry out, his voice slowed as if it were struggling through thick mud.

“Mr. Templeton?”

The doctor’s voice jerked him awake once again. Dazed, drunk with exhaustion, Michael sat up. The doctor was looking at him anxiously. Mrs. Cliffe was crying, her handkerchief pressed to her face.

“I am sorry,” the doctor was saying. His sleeves were rolled up, and he looked pale and drawn.

Michael shook his head. The man didn’t understand. He didn’t care that the baby was someone else’s. He only cared about looking after Priya.

“I want to see them.”

“Sir, I don’t advise it.” The doctor’s face was very pale. “I am so sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Michael, sitting forward. It seemed important to make the doctor understand that he wasn’t ashamed of Priya, but proud of her bravery. “I’m going to marry her, you see. Then I’ll adopt the child, and no one will care.”

They stared at him in silence.

“Michael,” said Mrs. Cliffe. She came up to him and put her hand on his shoulder, a soft, motherly touch. “My dear, do you know what has happened? Do you understand?”

Then Michael began to realize, and pushed Mrs. Cliffe blindly away, because he knew only one thing could have broken through her decorum and allowed her to treat him with such tenderness. If he pushed her away, it might not be true. He might not have to see the future before him blown up, leaving a gaping shell, a hole, devastation.

The doctor cleared his throat. “I am so sorry, sir. I am afraid they are dead—both dead.”

“I distinctly heard there was to be no wedding!” Lady Ellingborough announced, her voice carrying through from the drawing room all the way into Lord Westlake’s study over the excited chattering of the guests.

Lord Westlake looked around at his family. “We must make an announcement,” he said.

“But what on earth can we say?” The countess had gone quite white.

“The truth. There will be no wedding today.”

“But what about the creditors?”

Her husband shook his head and shrugged. “Ada cannot be forced to marry against her will—and I would not attempt to force her, not in these circumstances. We shall have to find some other way of holding back the storm.”

Rose followed her father out into the corridor. He spoke casually, but she knew that matters were serious.

“My dear friends,” Lord Westlake began, clearing his throat as he went into the drawing room. “You are so good to have come here today. But I have a sad announcement to make.…”

Rose could wait no longer. She stepped aside, into the shadows of the hall. Half hidden by a display of ferns and potted palms, she tore open the envelope and opened the folded slip of paper. She read the note hastily.

It was not from Ada, though it was addressed to her. It was from Ravi, addressed to Ada, and dated the previous month:

My dearest Ada,

I wonder with what feelings you will read this. I hope they have not changed. I still think of you as I ever did, only with more pain. Business will bring me to London this summer. It is a rush and I will find it difficult to get away. But I hoped we could meet. I won’t compromise you by asking you to reply to this. On the 21st August at noon I will be underneath the great clock at Paddington Station, where we parted from each other. If you can, be there too. If you cannot, I will understand. I will never forget you, but I will understand.

Yours forever,

Ravi

The twenty-first of August—today! Rose thought. Ada had told half the truth—she had gone to London. But, Rose realized, a smile breaking across her face, she had gone to meet Ravi. There was no doubt of it. Rose’s heart beat faster. She felt a surge of triumph on Ada’s behalf.

A strong hand caught Rose’s arm. She looked round, startled. It was Alexander.

“Rose—I must speak to you,” he began with desperate speed.

Rose was breathless with confusion. She automatically tried to struggle away, but he drew her to one side. “Please, it won’t take a moment. Where does this door go?” He pulled open the closest door and bundled her inside. Rose found herself overwhelmed with the smell of polish.

“The boot cupboard,” she said with a strangled laugh.

“Oh good lord.” He looked around at the tiny wood-paneled room, with Lord Westlake’s well-worn hunting boots lined up in rows. “I’d hoped for something more romantic. Well, this will have to do.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Rose, I’m sorry. I was an arrogant fool yesterday. I don’t know how you didn’t slap me.”

Rose couldn’t find words to reply. He has come back, was all she could think. He has come back.

“I—I brought you something,” he said, fumbling with the package he held. “Something better than a ring.” He held it awkwardly out to her. Rose took it. It was not heavy; she could feel a frame. She tore open the paper. Inside, she saw a canvas, a painting.

“Oh!” she exclaimed.

It was the sketch he had begun at Mont Pleasance. Now it was developed. She saw herself, but, more than the simple lines of her face and figure at the piano, she saw the whirls and tides and giddying swirls of music. He had caught the power of her imagination in color and movement, and as she looked at the canvas, she wasn’t sure that it wasn’t moving before her eyes, rocking like the sea swaying against the shore at Mont Pleasance, like the two of them dancing together that first night, when he had said,
Alexander Ross…I flatter myself you could get to like him.

He was speaking to her, his voice low and sincere. Rose pulled herself back from the spell of the painting.

“I want you to know that it isn’t true, that you are wrong. I don’t want to marry you to hurt my father. I want to marry you because you make me feel like that.” He pointed to the painting.

She gasped out a half laugh, half sob.

“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just say you’ll marry me.”

“I will, I will—but Alexander, this…this is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me.” She struggled to compose herself, but it was no good. Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks. Alexander moved in closer, and hesitantly cupped her face in his hands, brushing away her tears.

Alexander looked at the painting as if he hadn’t seen it before. “Yes,” he said, sounding surprised. “It is good, isn’t it?”

“Even better than the pieces at Mont Pleasance.” She looked at the painting again, and she was more sure than ever as she said, “It’s stronger. It has more purpose. It seems to know what it is, what it wants to be.”

“You’re right,” he said. He took her hand. “That’s because you inspire me. And Rose, I flatter myself that I inspire you too. See how we bring out the beauty in one another? We ought to be together—and that’s what I should have said yesterday, when I made such a mess of things. Rose, an artist needs light to paint by and you are my light. That’s what I should have said. Rose, will you marry me? Can you say yes with a smile this time? I don’t think it counts if you’re crying.”

“Yes,” she said, smiling at him through her happy tears. “Yes, I will.”

A second later, she was in his arms, his lips pressed to hers, and she relaxed into his embrace, as strong and gentle as the sea’s rocking waves. Rose, dizzy with happiness, rested her head on his shoulder. This is forever, she thought, and she knew she was smiling, happier than she had ever been in her life.

“Mont Pleasance needs you to make it my home,” he murmured into her ear. “We’ll make a music room, shall we? Just for you.”

“I can’t wait,” she murmured back. “With a view over the sea?”

“Yes, and I’ll teach you to swim. If you think the sea is beautiful from a distance, wait until you’re in it on a summer’s day!” His eyes gleamed, and he grinned at her.

Rose laughed. Then she started as she heard angry voices in the corridor.

“What was that?” Alexander said, startled. “I thought the guests had all left.”

“Yes. It sounded like…” She hesitated as footsteps raced past. “Michael. But I thought he was at Eton.…”

The next moment she heard a scream of fear echoing down the corridor. It was Georgiana’s voice.

Alexander darted past her to the door and opened it, shielding her with his body. Rose looked around him. The oak door to the library was open, and for a shocked moment he thought she could see Michael and Sebastian fighting. A second later, as she raced after Alexander toward them, she realized that they were not fighting; Sebastian was trying to restrain Michael. Michael’s real target stood cowering in the corner by the massive stone fireplace, his drink-reddened face blazing with fear and anger. Georgiana, looking pale against the oak paneling, pressed her hands to her mouth, while Lady Edith appeared to have slipped into a faint. The countess, her face white, had collapsed onto the sofa next to her.

“What has happened?” Rose exclaimed. She went to Georgiana at once, and put her arms around her.

“He killed her!” Michael roared again. He did not sound like himself; his voice was ragged and hoarse, and when Rose turned to him she was shocked by the shadows under his eyes. He struggled to pull himself loose from Sebastian’s grip.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” William blustered.

“She’s dead,” Georgiana said, sobbing, collapsing into Rose’s arms. “Priya’s dead—and so is the baby.”

“What!” Rose exclaimed in horror. She turned to Alexander, who looked as troubled and confused as she felt. “I don’t understand. What has happened?”

“It’s very simple.” Michael seemed to have gained some control over himself. He shook Sebastian off and stood, swaying slightly, his gaze fixed on William. “He took advantage of Priya, he got her with child, and in fear she ran away. Now they are both dead—and he is guilty.” He pointed at William.

“I don’t know what you are talking about!” William shouted back. “Lies, lies all of it. She probably had some lover in the village.”

“She told me it was you,” Michael replied.

“And you believe her?” William sneered. He stepped back hastily as Michael lunged toward him, hands out as if to throttle him. Sebastian and Alexander both hastily grabbed Michael’s arms. This time Alexander reached Michael first and held him back.

“Is this true?” Lord Westlake spoke for the first time. His voice was ominous. “William, do you deny it?”

“I do,” William said furiously.

Rose, not knowing what to think, looked from William to Michael and back. William could not meet her gaze.

“Because if it were true, no matter what the cost, I would disinherit you,” Lord Westlake said.

He spoke calmly, but Rose could see in his clenched fists that he was under great pressure. Frightened, she glanced at Alexander, but he was using all his strength to stop Michael from attacking William.

“It is true, it is!” Georgiana sobbed. “Priya would never lie!”

“All servants lie,” said William contemptuously.

“Watch your mouth, or I’ll let him kill you,” Alexander said quietly. His eyes glinted with fury. William backed away nervously, straight into the fire tongs, sending them clattering to the floor. He jumped and glanced at the door as if planning escape. Rose followed his gaze, and saw that Annie stood in the doorway. She held a tray of tea, and stood as if frozen with fear.

“Annie!” she exclaimed. “No one wants the tea now, thank you—please, please leave us.” She could not imagine the damage to the family if this scene was reported below stairs.

But Annie did not move. The teacups on the tray rattled as she trembled, but she took a step forward bravely. “If you please, my lady—my lords—” she began, her voice tiny as a scared mouse, “I think what Master Michael says is true.”

“Who the hell cares what you say?” William began furiously.

“Silence,” roared Lord Westlake. Rose jumped, and Annie whimpered. Lord Westlake strode forward.

“Annie, you have always given excellent service.
I
care about what you have to say,” he said to her quietly. “I want the truth, no matter how painful it is to hear.”

“P-p-p-” Annie sputtered, trembling. She licked her lips and began again. “Priya told me that Sir William was trying…trying to take liberties with her. She was afraid. She asked me what to do about it. I’m so s-s-s-sorry that I didn’t listen to her.” She began to cry, and all the teacups and the teapot on the tray she held echoed her rattling sobs as if in sympathy.

Rose swiftly crossed to her, took the tray away, and put her arms around the girl, soothing her. With her face turned away, Rose only heard what happened next.

Her father spoke in a dead silence, clearly directing his words to William. “I have endured your gambling, I have endured your reckless spending and your drinking because I believe that an estate of this age and distinction should remain in family hands and you, sadly, were my only heir. But this is the last straw. I would rather allow Somerton to go to strangers than have people say the Earls of Westlake were bad stewards.”

“You cannot take a housemaid’s word above mine!” William said furiously.

“I would trust a good servant above a bad master any day. That is what you do not realize, William, what you do not understand. We are
all
family here. We owe those who serve us protection, and if we fail in that duty we are not fit to be masters.”

“Damn it!” William exploded. “The girl was a tease, always—” He broke off, and without another word he ran for the door, pushing violently past Michael and Alexander as he went.

“Let him go!” Lord Westlake said as Sebastian moved to follow him. “I will write to my lawyer at once.”

“But,” said the countess, speaking for the first time, her face still white as paper, “what will you do about Ada? William’s debts still remain.” She put her head in her hands. “I will never be able to show my face in society again.”

“I do not know. I know only that Ada cannot marry a cad, and that I will not leave Somerton to a bad master.”

“I don’t quite understand,” said Alexander. “Excuse me, but are you saying the estate is bankrupt?”

The countess turned as if seeing him for the first time. There was silence. Rose knew that no one was willing to admit the family’s debts before a stranger. But he was not a stranger to her.

“It’s true, I’m afraid,” she said quietly. “Ada’s marriage was the one thing that could have saved it.”

“Oh nonsense. Don’t worry about money, sir,” Alexander said, addressing Lord Westlake. “I’ll sell a couple of Rubenses. We need the space anyway.”

Sebastian let out a strangled laugh. The others looked blankly at each other. Only the countess began to smile as if understanding.

“That is very kind of you, but I could not accept—” Lord Westlake began formally.