Fortune's Son (31 page)

Ranelagh Pleasure Gardens, Chelsea

Lady Messingham was awe-inspired upon entering the Rotunda, the jewel of Ranelagh Pleasure Gardens. Hundreds of crystal chandeliers blazed with thousands of lights amidst the melodic echoes of a full orchestra, the brilliance and charm of which brought to mind an enchanted castle. So nearly overwhelmed by its magnificence was she that she didn't at first remark the gentleman's approach.

“It has the same effect upon me whenever I come here,” said Mr. Pitt, offering his arm.

“It takes one's breath away.”

“You should see it in the evening, my lady. I'd love nothing more than to show you its splendor.”

“This is quite a public venue for our meeting,” she remarked to his chuckle.

“You fear tongues will wag? I confess I am guilty for designing it so. I will resort to almost any means to sway you in my favor, even gossip.”

“A shameless confession, Mr. Pitt! But it is after all only tea.”

A liveried footman escorted them to one of the private boxes far above the orchestra. She gazed down into the pit and closed her eyes to the melodious strains of strings, harpsichord, and oboe in a Handel concerto. “Heavenly.” She sighed and opened her eyes to find Pitt gazing at her. Discomfited, she looked away.

“You have something to tell me, sir?”

“Not so much to tell as to give to you, my dear lady.”

He was briefly interrupted by the arrival of the footman with an enormously laden tea tray. A miniature of the Rotunda evoked in sugar provided the backdrop for the sumptuous selection of fresh and sugared fruits, trifle, lemon-cheese tarts, sponge cake, walnut cake, chocolate roll, pound cake, tea cakes, jams, jellies, creams, and various cheeses. It was an array of gastronomic delicacies to tempt even the most fickle palate.

After pouring their tea and taking a delicate bite of sponge cake, she dabbed her mouth with the fine linen and prompted, “You said you wanted to give me something?”

“Ah, my heart,” he cried in mock dismay. “I confess to the selfish hope that I might have extended the fleeting pleasure of your company before tending to our business, but I would not prolong your unease to save my life.” He reached into the deep pockets of his coat and retrieved two scrolled documents.

“The first of these is a writ signed and sealed by the Lord High Chancellor. As you may guess, some manner of compromise was required. Without tiring you with tedious details, the Chancery has restored all rights and privileges according to his station.”

“Then the court decided in his favor?”

“Not quite, my lady. As I said,
compromise
was
required
. The courtesy title Viscount Uxeter is to be bestowed upon Philip Drake, thus restoring his privilege. The true title and entail, however, is to be conferred upon the minor child, Anna Sophia Drake, sole surviving issue of Edmund Drake. The child will become Countess of Hastings in her own right upon her twenty-first year. In the interim, she will be under her uncle's guardianship, who will also maintain control of her estate.” He handed her the document.

She gaped at it in astonishment. “You said his privilege is restored. You mean he is free?”

“He should be released by the morrow.”

“And the other document? What is that?”

“A judgment from the Court of Common Law that may be used to pursue a petition of divorce with the Ecclesiastical Court. As to the Act of Parliament, if the church grants the divorce
mensa
et
thoro
and you still wish to marry, I pledge my full support of the divorce
vinculo
matromonii
.”

“I can't believe you have done this for him.”

His earnest gaze arrested her. “No, my lady. I have done this
for
you.
” He took her hand. “Are you certain this is the path you desire?”

“You refer to our prior conversation?”

“I do.”

“But you know I don't love you. I've given my heart to another.”

“Love, my dear, is irrelevant in a political marriage. I seek an equal partner. Affection would grow in time.”

“And I need time to consider. But pray know this, Mr. Pitt—whatever my decision, I'll ever hold you in the very highest esteem.”

***

Lady Messingham entered the nave of Westminster Abbey with a deep curtsey before kissing the Bishop's ring. “My Lord Bishop, thank you for granting my audience.”

“'Tis a welcome distraction, my child,” he replied. “But we have met before, have we not?”

“It has been more than twenty years. I am astounded by your memory, your Excellency. My father, The Very Reverend Thomas Barnage, was the rural Dean of Wiltshire.”

“I knew him well, an excellent man and a credit to the cloth.”

“He always felt his calling was to shepherd his beloved Wiltshire flock.”

“Just as mine has been to restore this sacred House of God,” the bishop said.

Refusing promotion to the second-highest ecclesiastical position in the land, Bishop Wilcocks had instead followed his passion to restore the dilapidated Westminster Abbey. With over two decades spent on his labor of love, the western face of the thirteenth-century church was finally complete, its new towers and windows remarked upon as objects of consummate beauty.

“Are you familiar with our abbey?” he asked.

“No, Your Excellency,” she replied. “Although I have long admired its beauty, I confess I have never been inside its walls.”

“Then pray walk with me, child, and I will show her to you.”

“Her?”

“Of course. The word of God calls the church the bride of Christ, and if she is this bride, I have spent twenty years of my life on the bridal clothes!” He chuckled.

The frail octogenarian gallantly offered his arm, proudly describing the history and architecture of the breathtaking structure and singling out various
objets
d'art
along their stroll within the church walls.

“It has consumed me, the restoration of this place. It has been my heart's desire to see it completed before my death, but it now appears a never-ending travail.”

“I thought you were finished when the west towers were completed last year.”

“So thought I, but now several rafters in the cloister are in such a state of decay as to threaten a portion of the roof. Moreover, our funds are depleted. There is no more money without an appeal to Parliament, which could take months. But enough of my troubles.” The bishop sighed. “What moves you to seek out such an old clergyman?”

“I am in need of counsel,” she said.

“Go on,” he encouraged.

“I must beg your leave to speak plainly.”

He gave a paternal nod.

She lowered her gaze. “I am with child and the father belongs to another.”

“Adultery is a sin, my child.” He spoke without judgment, stating the cold fact.

“While I do not deny my sin, Your Excellency, it is not quite as you think. The man of whom I speak was never truly wed. That is, the marriage was performed in a highly irregular fashion. The bride was coerced by her guardian, and no license was procured.”

“But was it sanctioned by the church?”

“It was a Fleet wedding.”

“I see.” The bishop frowned. “Although the church does not sanction such unions, the Common Law does recognize them.”

“But there is more. The wife has now deserted her husband.”

“Mayhap I should ask if you understand the lengthy process, and
the
only
way
by which by this man would ever be free to marry you.”

“I do. A petition for divorce must be preceded by a civil suit for criminal conversation and a judgment awarded before any petition can be made to the Ecclesiastical Courts.”

“But these requests are seldom granted,” he said. The church is rightfully reluctant to sever what God hath joined, and even when granted it is little more than a legal separation. A private Act of Parliament is required to completely sever the marital bonds. Should you persist on this road, there is no guarantee of the outcome you wish. Have you sought God's guidance in the matter, child?”

“I have, and my time runs short.”

They had arrived at the brass gates opening to Henry VII's Lady Chapel at the far eastern end of the abbey. When they entered the chapel, Sukey was struck by the colorful banners and heraldic arms displayed along all of the walls.

“This chapel was built to honor the Virgin Mary, and the ceiling is a work of art in itself,” the bishop said with pride. “It is one of the loveliest known examples of a pendant fan vault ceiling. Do you love this man, the true father of your child?” he asked.

“Against my better judgment, I have loved him since the moment we met.”

“Love is not often the basis of marriage, although it is unquestionably the strongest,” he said. “I wed only once in my life, and it was indeed for love, but I lost my dear Jane twenty-six years ago. I could never think of loving another as I loved her, thus I gave the remainder of my heart to the abbey.”

“You did love her deeply,” she said in sympathy. A long moment of quiet ensued. “He has hurt me… deeply,” she said, “but I also could never pledge my heart to another.”

“Then, my dear, you must let that still, small voice be your guide.”

“If I am to go with my heart, Your Excellency, I must beg your support. I have need of your influence, and you have a roof in need of repair. Perhaps there we might help one another?”

“Sadly, my dear,
that
would require a great deal of money.”

She wondered which
that
he referred to—the influence or the roof. Nevertheless, she opened her cloak to finger the diamonds glittering about her throat. “What if I had in mind to make a gift to the abbey, a charitable donation, enough to fully replace the rafters?”

He regarded her for a long thoughtful moment before breaking into a conspiratorial smile. “Then, my dear,” he patted her hand, “if it is truly as you say, that the union was never solemnized by the church nor consummated in the marriage bed, mayhap this process in the Ecclesiastical Court could be expedited after all.”

She had waited in restless agitation all the day, one moment willing him to come to her, and the next fearing the very thing she wished. The last few hours she had tried to occupy herself with needlework, but had only managed to stain the cloth with drops of blood from every time she pricked her fingers.

When at last she glanced up from her embroidery, she thought she had conjured him, so startled was she to find his specter bracing the doorway. He was leaner than she'd ever seen him, his bones more prominent in his gaunt face, but his eyes were as dark and piercing as ever. She didn't know how long he'd stood there, watching her in stony silence.

He pushed himself from the door jamb and moved with slow purpose toward her. “Six months! Six months, Sukey,” he said at last, “and not a single word from you?” His voice was low and hoarse with emotion.

Her hands shook as she brought the thread to her mouth, cutting it with her teeth. “It was over between us. There was no point.” When she looked up into his afflicted stare, it required a herculean effort to regulate her breathing.

“You say it's over?” Three more strides and he was towering over her. “I don't believe you! Just as I don't believe you intend to marry Pitt.”

“Why would you think I entertained such a thing?” she asked. Refusing to meet his gaze, she slowly and deliberately placed the needle in her box and laid down her hoop. When she looked up again, he accosted her with an accusing look.

“You deny you've kept his company?”

“I don't deny anything, but it's not what you think,” she said quietly, willing herself to modulate her tone.

“I know you've been seen in his company. There's talk all over London. What the devil am I to think? But I won't have it, by God!” he thundered. “I won't let him have you!” His eyes were wild and his breathing ragged. He grasped her shoulders in a painful grip and jerked her to her feet.

When she thought he would haul her into an impassioned embrace, he froze. Philip's breath hitched and his fingers bit cruelly into her flesh. His expression grew blacker by the second as his burning stare traveled the length of her and back, finally coming to rest on her swollen belly.

What her voluminous skirts had concealed from him while she sat was suddenly and manifestly revealed.

The flame in his eyes went dead. He released her so abruptly she had to catch the chair arm to prevent falling.

When he looked to her again, his ardent display might never have happened, so blank was his expression. “I now understand.” His lips formed a bitter grimace. “Perhaps you should wed him, after all.”

Shoving away from the chair, Sukey faced him squarely, quivering with righteous indignation. “You think I've played you false, Philip? Well, think again! You… you… great ass!” She beat against his chest, forcing him backward across the room, as she fiercely, intrepidly berated his lack of faith.

“There is no denying you are with child!” he accused.

“Thus you think me some faithless jade?” she asked, smoldering with fury.

“How else do you explain this!” he cried. “It's been six months since we were together!”

“Indeed six months! So take a good look at me, Philip, and work the sums, for I'm big as a house!” With breasts heaving as much from emotional as physical exertion, she awaited his reaction.

He opened his mouth again and then closed it again. When full comprehension dawned, it left him stunned and gaping.

When his voice finally came, it was little more than a hoarse whisper. “My God, Sukey! You can't mean to say—”

“Indeed I do mean to say! I'm nearly nine months heavy with
your
child
.”

His face lost all trace of color. “How? How can it be possible after all these years?”

She was rewarded by a display of utter shock as myriad conflicting emotions washed over his face, each in turn matching those inside her—confusion, fear, joy, anguish, befuddlement, and finally longing.

“I can only count it a blessed whim of Providence,” she answered with a half smile. “Now, the question remains, what do
you
intend to do about it?” She regarded him intently, willing herself to remain calm and passive.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked with a look of desolation. “Didn't you think I had a right to know of this?”

“What good would it have done?” she asked, and looked away.

“It doesn't matter. I still had a right to know!”

“Perhaps that's true, but you were imprisoned and had enough on your shoulders without the added burden of worry. Thus, I chose to wait.”

“When did you plan to tell me?”

“Now.”

“But what if I had not been released?”

“Who do you think secured it?”

“You?” He was once more completely taken aback.

“With the aid of Mr. Pitt.”

“Pitt?” Philip scowled.

“Hence all the talk.”

“Once more—what is between you and Pitt, Sukey?”

“I needed help to free you, and he was there for me. He offered his aid and his friendship.”

“There was nothing more?”

“No. I have no feelings for William Pitt, though he would no doubt have me.”

“While you carry another man's bastard?” Philip was at first incredulous and then incensed.

“If I were to wed before this child's birth, there would be no bastardy, and any scandal would be very short-lived.”

“So you
did
think to wed him? Is that what you want?”

Her gaze slid away from him in an evasive answer. “Do you think I wish to raise your bastard alone?”

“Damn it all! Do you really think I would do that to you? Leave you alone and unprotected?”

“Didn't you do just that?”

“Good God, Sukey!” He threw his hands in the air. “You think I would have chosen to leave you like this?”

“I don't know, Philip, but I have more than just myself to think of now. I won't raise a fatherless child.”

“But what kind of father would I make? I have nothing to offer. I might be free again, but I am no better off than I was before.
I
have
nothing
, while he could offer you everything. Security, comfort, and eminent respectability.” He added the last with a mirthless laugh.

“Yes, Philip, he could.” She looked quickly away, but not before he caught the tremor of her lips.

He was upon her again in an instant, pulling her against him and searching her gaze. “Tell me, Sukey,” he rasped. “Tell me what you want!”

“How can you be such a fool!” she cried. “I want what I've always wanted. I want
you
. Even after all this, heaven help me, I still do. But even now, you don't ask me!”

He pulled at his hair with a groan. “But how can I ask you and a child to live hand to mouth? I have lost my title. I have a fortune in trust that I can neither access nor borrow against. I have no lands, no home, and I am heavily indebted. I am nothing!” he shouted in anguish and then took her face roughly in his hands. “Look at me, Sukey. What do you see?”

She regarded him for a long, searching moment. “What I've always seen. The man I love.”

“Do you think to live on air?”

“You still don't understand? None of the rest matters! Not the title, the trust, or the trappings! I'm going to have
your
child
!” Her eyes glistened and she finished in a whisper. “That's all I ever really wanted. I still have a home and my widow's jointure. It's sufficient.”

“And what kind of man would that make me?” he asked with a pained look. “One who lives off a woman's bounty?”

“Curse your damnable pride, Philip Drake! You will manage as you always have. You are strong, intelligent, capable, and
infinitely resourceful
. I could never doubt you. Why must you still doubt yourself?” she asked tenderly.

“Sukey, my dearest Sukey,” he murmured her name helplessly. “I'm so unworthy of you. I've made such a mess of my life and have so very many regrets. I sought what I thought would yield happiness, but instead found emptiness. Only
you
have been my consolation, my only salvation. You were my only hope all the while in the King's Bench, and when I thought I'd lost you, I thought I'd lost my very life.”

With this raw confession, he wrapped his arms around her trembling body, burying his face in her hair. Tears streamed down her face as he continued in a whisper.

“I told you years ago that you could be free of me whenever you choose, but I lied.
I
can
never
let
you
go.
I know I don't deserve you, Sukey, but God only knows how much I need you. How much I love you.”

He held her close for a long moment and then his fingers brushed her face and gently outlined her lips before meeting her in a tender kiss. He kissed along her jaw and her neck, his hands tracing her sides until moving up to cup and caress her swollen breasts with the most reverent touch.

His expression was awe-filled when he lowered his hands to her protruding belly. Slowly, gently, filled with fascination, he moved over her rounded form, exploring the contours of it, then dropping to his knees and locking her in a protective embrace. With a look of wonderment, he laid his cheek against her side. He closed his eyes, listening intently, his expression rapt with growing appreciation of the life inside her.

They held one another thus for long minutes before he looked up at her with glistening eyes and a convulsive swallow. When he spoke again his voice was hoarse with emotion, as if his words emanated from the very depths of his soul.

“You know I don't profess to be the best of men… but if you will take me… flawed as I am… I pledge my very life to cherish and protect you and this child, Sukey. Our child. You know I can't offer much more than that, but my heart and soul are yours. As they have always been. Only yours.”

These words, so long in coming, played at her heartstrings and stirred her passion to life, breaking over her like a wave, cracking and disintegrating her reserve.

“Yes, Philip. Yes. I will have you,” she cried and collapsed into his arms.

He held her to him, clutching her close, and when Philip kissed her again, it stole her breath away.

She was still amazed at the effect he had on her after twelve tumultuous years.