Lord Portman's Troublesome Wife (13 page)

‘It cannot be helped, Ben. We have to get her away from here.’

Mrs Chappell hurried out behind them. ‘Hey, what about my money? Five guineas is owed to me.’

Rosamund flung the purse at her and instructed Ben to drive on. He wheeled the gig round and they left the dreadful place behind them. She half-expected someone to give chase, but no one did, and once they were back on the road and crossing the heath, she set about talking to the little girl, trying to soothe her, telling her she was going to a nice new home where she would have a bath and clean clothes and a soft bed and a doctor would make her better.

Her quiet voice belied how she was feeling. Inside she was seething. Had no one checked on the welfare of the poor child? Had anyone taken the trouble to make sure the money meant for her keep was spent on her? Did no one care? Why had Mrs Rivers, who visited regularly, not seen what was happening and reported it to Lord Portman? Why had he never taken the trouble to visit her himself? Now he would have to take some notice of her. Not even he could ignore the child’s plight.

‘My lady.’ Ben’s voice held a note of alarm. ‘There’s trouble ahead.’

Rosamund looked up to see a coach stopped by the side of the road and a man on horseback pointing a gun at the occupant. Even from a distance she recognised the equipage. ‘It’s Lord Portman,’ she cried, as her imagination pictured his lordship lying across the seat, broken and bleeding. Her anger with him was forgotten. ‘Quick, Ben, we must go to him. He might be hurt.’

‘My lady, the man has a gun.’

‘Gun or no, we cannot stand by and do nothing. Whip up the horse. We might scare him off.’

Ben obeyed, making the little gig bounce about on the uneven road. Annabelle whimpered and Rosamund was occupied in trying to calm her and shield her from the worst of the bumping. The highwayman, still brandishing his gun, looked up and saw the gig bearing down on them. He appeared to say something, grabbed a bag from inside the coach and galloped away.

Ben, much relieved to see the back of him, drew up alongside the big coach, but before Rosamund could extricate herself from the burden of Annabelle and go
to her husband, Harry was out and striding over to her. She was the last person he had expected to see and the last one he wanted as a witness to the hold-up. ‘Madam, what are you doing here?’

She ignored his question. ‘Are you hurt, my lord? What did he take?’

‘Nothing but a few paltry guineas, and, no, I am not hurt.’ He put his hand on the side of the gig and saw the child in her lap. ‘Good God! What have you there?’

‘This, my lord, is your daughter.’

He looked from her to the child and back again. ‘Nonsense. She’s filthy and she stinks.’

‘So she is and so she does. Nevertheless, she is your daughter. She is ill and needs a doctor and I am taking her home to look after her, for clearly her foster mother has not been doing so.’ She pulled the filthy blanket from about the child’s face so that he could see her, while Ben stared straight ahead, trying to pretend he could not hear what was going on. ‘Mrs Chappell has six more children at home, all well fed on your guineas, my lord, whereas this poor mite is so hungry she has been eating unripe crab apples.’ That was only a guess, but it served to shock him to the core.

He took another look at the child. She was painfully thin; her fair hair was lank and her blue eyes were bright with fever. He could not believe, did not want to believe, that this disgusting object was the product of his loins, the tiny infant his wife had died to bring into the world. And yet…And yet, there was something about her that touched a chord. She reminded him of his young sister who had died of fever when she was six. He had only been eight at the time, but her illness
and death was something that had stayed in his memory. He reached out and touched the child’s cheek and in that moment he felt the first faint stirrings of fatherhood.

He hesitated to lift the child from Rosamund’s arms in case he frightened her. ‘Take her home,’ he said, abruptly. ‘I will follow.’ And with that he returned to his coach and climbed in.

Ben drove the gig past the stationary coach and set the horse to a trot.

Half an hour later they were turning in at the gates. ‘Pull up at the kitchen door,’ Rosamund said.

As soon as they stopped, he jumped down and took the child from her, while she scrambled down, just as the coach pulled up behind them. Harry was out before the wheels had stopped turning and took the child from the young coachman. ‘Go and fetch Dr Marshall, Ben,’ he said. ‘Tell him it is urgent.’ Rosamund opened the door for him and he marched into the kitchen where the kitchen staff gaped in astonishment. ‘A bath, hot water, clean clothes,’ he ordered. ‘Take them to…’

‘My dressing room,’ Rosamund said.

‘Her ladyship’s dressing room,’ he confirmed, and took his burden through to the front of the house and up the stairs, followed by Rosamund. She opened her door for him to precede her into the room. Janet came rushing forward. ‘My lady—’ She stopped to stare.

Harry looked about him. There was a sofa in the room and he put Annabelle on that. ‘Clean her up and put her to bed,’ he instructed Rosamund. ‘We will discuss this later.’ With a last look at the child, who had no strength even to cry, he left them to do what needed
to be done and went to his own room, where Jack helped him to change his clothes. Then he went downstairs to the library, shut himself in and began pacing back and forth.

His first reaction on seeing his wife with the child had been cold fury: fury that she was on the road at all, fury that she had meddled in his arrangements for his daughter, fury that she had gone to the farm and seen fit to abduct the child from her foster parents, even after he had said it was not a good idea. This changed to fury with Mrs Chappell for her neglect of the child and for not informing him she was ill and fury with Mrs Rivers for not realising and not reporting that she was being neglected. But none of that disguised the fact that above all he was angry with himself.

How could he have assumed that because he paid handsomely for Annabelle to be looked after, that was all he needed to do? What had Rosamund said?
What about her father’s love and attention? Do you visit her regularly? Do you have her here for visits?
And when he answered, coldly because he did not like being questioned, she had added,
I cannot help thinking that it is not the way your late wife would have wanted it.
Her barbs had hit home and they hit deep, more so since he had seen the child. The arrival of Rosamund Chalmers into his life and into his household had certainly caused a stir and shaken him out of his complacency.

He looked up as she came into the room. She had changed her clothes and tidied her hair and they faced each other in open hostility. ‘Madam, I require an explanation,’ he said, still angry.

‘I have given you one,’ she answered calmly. ‘I am
sure you do not need me to repeat it. I came to tell you the doctor is with Annabelle now. I assume you would wish to speak to him.’

He brushed past her and hurried up the stairs with Rosamund behind him. The doctor had just finished his examination and was closing his bag. Annabelle, who had been bathed and put into a clean nightgown that was several sizes too big for her, lay very still with her eyes closed and Harry thought for one dreadful moment she had died. His memory conjured up a picture of Beth lying so still and pale in death and he turned his face away.

‘A bad case of colic,’ Dr Marshall told him, before he could disgrace himself with tears. ‘Made worse because the child is so badly nourished. What she needs is a wholesome diet and plenty of rest.’

‘She shall have it. And a nurse.’

‘I will nurse her,’ Rosamund said, ashamed to see him turn away from the child. The poor little thing could not help being born, nor being ill. ‘I have already asked for a bed to be brought in here for her.’

‘There is no need—’ Harry began

‘Oh, indeed there is. The child needs a little loving attention; however good the servants are, they cannot give her that. It will be my pleasure to care for her and it will give us the opportunity to get to know each other.’ She reached out and put a hand on his arm. Why she did it she did not know, except that she wanted to take the anger out of him.

He looked at her hand with its long capable fingers and was torn between brushing it off and taking it in his own and lifting it to his lips. She had that effect on him. It was impossible to remain angry with her. He knew
then, that whatever else happened, he could never annul the marriage. Annabelle needed her even if he did not. He picked her hand off his sleeve and squeezed it gently in reassurance before letting it go. ‘Very well, my dear, if that is your wish.’

He accompanied the doctor down the stairs. ‘I can trust your discretion in this, Doctor?’

‘Of course.’

‘You know who the child is?’

‘I can guess. Was I not here when she was born? Poor Lady Portman, she so wanted the child to be a boy, to please you.’ He sighed. ‘Alas, we cannot always have what we want.’

‘No, but I would like to believe she thought she had given me a son.’

‘You are very fortunate in your new wife,’ the doctor went on. ‘She has shown herself compassionate and practical too. With her care, the little one will thrive.’

‘Yes. I had no idea what was happening. Mr and Mrs Chappell will pay dearly for their neglect.’

The doctor paused at the bottom of the stairs and turned towards him. ‘And you? Will you keep her here when she has recovered?’ It was the nearest he dare go to a criticism and Harry knew it.

‘Naturally I will.’

It was as he was seeing the doctor off the premises that Ash rode up. He was relaxed and smiling. He dismounted, took the portmanteau containing the old clothes and the coins off the back of his saddle and came towards Harry, smiling broadly. ‘Well, here I am,’ he said.

‘I had forgotten all about you,’ Harry said.

Ash looked taken aback. ‘Am I not welcome?’

‘Of course you are. Come in. I will have to leave you with Lady Portman. I am afraid I have to go out.’ He turned to see Rosamund coming down the stairs. She looked strained, but otherwise calm. ‘My dear,’ he said. ‘Sir Ashley has favoured us with a visit.’

She offered her hand to Ash, who took it and bowed low over it. ‘Your obedient, my lady.’

‘Will you arrange for him to be given a bedchamber?’ Harry told her. ‘He will wish to refresh himself and change after his journey. Jack will help him. I have to go out again, but I shall be back in time for dinner.’

‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

‘I am going to Feltham Farm. Those two must be punished.’

‘What can you accuse them of, except neglect?’ She did not need to add that they were not the only ones guilty of that; he knew it. ‘Let them be. They have lost the income you gave them and that will punish them. And you could put yourself in danger.’

‘Danger—what are you talking of, Madam?’

‘I do not know. It is just that I have a strange feeling about that place, as if there is evil there. As if I were being watched. Please do not go.’

Ash had been standing beside his horse’s head, the portmanteau in his hand, looking from one to the other. ‘Have I arrived at an inconvenient time?’ he asked.

‘No, no,’ Harry assured him. ‘We have had a little upset.’

‘Oh.’ He waited to be told about the highway robbery, anticipating his expression of surprise, but Harry seemed to have forgotten all about it.

‘My daughter has been taken ill.’

‘I am indeed sorry to hear that,’ Ash said. ‘Shall I take myself off and find an inn?’

‘No, we have much to discuss,’ Harry said. ‘Make yourself comfortable. I shall not be long. After I have been to the farm, I will report the highway robbery to the Watch, though what good it will do, I cannot think.’

‘You have been robbed?’ Ash queried, pretending innocence.

‘Yes. Lady Portman will tell you all about it. She was there. I will take your horse for you.’ He picked up the reins and led the stallion towards the stables.

Ash turned towards Rosamund. ‘Lady Portman, I am sorry to impose myself upon you, but Harry did ask me to call.’

‘You are welcome, Sir Ashley,’ she said, wishing him anywhere but where he was. With Annabelle to look after, and Harry in the mood he was in, a guest was the last thing she needed. ‘Come indoors and I will see about a room for you. You will forgive me for leaving you to be looked after by Mr Sylvester. I need to be with my stepdaughter.’

She sent for Jack Sylvester and when Ash went off with him, she returned to the sick room. She was so busy looking after Annabelle that it was some time before she realised there was something strange about Sir Ashley’s visit. Why had he ridden from town when Harry had plenty of room in his carriage? And she could swear that the portmanteau he carried was the one stolen from Harry. How had he come by it, unless he had either been the highwayman himself or had taken it from the robber? It would have been easier to believe the latter if she had not been quite so sure the horse he
rode was the one used in the hold-up. It was a noble animal with distinctly marked nose and socks. Surely Harry must have noticed that? Perhaps she ought to warn him that his friend was not all he purported to be.

H
arry returned in time for dinner as he had promised, but there was no opportunity for Rosamund to speak to him alone, and after the meal the two men retired to the library where she knew she would not be welcome. She took tea in the drawing room alone and then went to Mrs Rivers’s sitting room to talk to her about her visits to the farm.

‘Surely you knew there was something wrong?’ she asked her. ‘The child has been half-starved.’

‘I never knew that. I didn’t like going there. Mrs Chappell was only interested in the money and she insisted on it being in guineas, which surprised me because she hardly needed gold coin to do the shopping she did. She said she was getting Annabelle special food, which cost dear because the poor wee thing never seemed to thrive. I believed her at first, but later, when I came to question it, she became aggressive and told me to mind my own business. She said if his lordship doubted her capabilities he could come and see for himself. Of course he never did.’

‘You did tell him?’

‘I tried, but whenever I mentioned his daughter, he shut me out by talking about something else and as I am only the housekeeper, I could not argue with him. I am so glad you went today, my lady. The poor child will do well now she is here with you to look after her. You won’t send her back, will you?’

‘Certainly not. It is a dreadful place. I cannot imagine how she came to be there.’

‘Mrs Chappell was recommended by the wet nurse and, to tell the truth, it was not so bad in the beginning. The woman was clean and did her best. It is only in the last two years she’s let everything go to pot. I blame her husband, a real tyrant if there ever was one. He frightened me. I would not be surprised if he took most of the money from her.’

‘Has his lordship spoken to you today?’

‘No, my lady. Everyone has been too busy. And now he has Sir Ashley with him. No doubt he will send for me tomorrow. I am dreading it.’

‘Lord Portman is a fair man,’ Rosamund said. ‘If you tell him what you have told me, I am sure he will not blame you. Now I am going up to my room to sit with Annabelle. I am sure his lordship will not need me any more tonight.’

Harry was sprawled in an armchair, facing Ash. Both were nursing a glass of cognac. ‘I was never so taken aback as when I saw my wife with that child,’ Harry said. ‘And so plainly ill. It gave me a turn I can tell you. The robbery went clean out of my head until you arrived.’

‘But you have reported it?’

‘Yes. A description of the thief is being circulated. I have offered a reward for information as to his whereabouts.’

Ash chuckled. ‘Then no doubt you will be besieged by people knowing where he is to be found and claiming it.’

‘Perhaps. More to the point, will the news reach O’Keefe and his gang?’ He paused. ‘They may have set someone to watch me. I did suggest that Lord Portman might be an easy target.’

‘When I go back to town I will spread the word and no doubt it will reach the newspapers. Did you go to the foster parents?’

‘Yes, and it is as my wife said. The place was filthy. The woman was deferential, whining that it wasn’t her fault the child had not thrived. She had always been sickly. And when I asked her why she had not informed me of that, she said she had supposed Mrs Rivers would tell me and because I had not been near she assumed I did not want to know. Her husband came in then. He threatened me with violence.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘And as I went there as the macaroni, I had to stay in character and beat a hasty retreat, much as I would have liked to give him a facer.’

‘Her ladyship might be right,’ Ash said. ‘And nothing can be done. You put the child in their hands and they are no worse than hundreds of other foster parents. Just be thankful Lady Portman found her in time.’

Harry digested this without comment. He finished his brandy and refilled both glasses. ‘I have to go back to the Nag’s Head as soon as I can and hand over those guineas. I am hoping it will lead to my being taken to the farm where the coins are worked on.’

‘You could be putting yourself in danger, you know. Let me come with you.’

‘Certainly not. You are the enemy, the thieftaker, so be assiduous in that task. I will find some way of letting you know if I need you. Now I’m for my bed.’

They left the room and parted at the top of the stairs, but Harry did not immediately go to his bed, but went to Rosamund’s room. He smiled ruefully as he knocked and entered. The day’s events had given a whole new meaning to his relationship with his wife, though he could not quite put his finger on what it was.

A little bed had been put up in the adjoining dressing room and Rosamund was sitting on a stool beside it, watching over the child. Annabelle’s white gold hair had been washed and was spread over the pillow. One arm was flung out. He was shocked at how skinny it was. But the disturbing vision of Beth did not return as he dropped down on his knees beside Rosamund; he saw only the child. ‘How is she?’ he whispered.

‘The doctor gave her something to end the flux and send her to sleep. She is peaceful. When she wakes she will feel better and we can try to fatten her up a little.’

‘Poor little one,’ he murmured. ‘How I have wronged her. I wonder if she will ever forgive me?’

‘I am sure she will.’

He had been gazing at Annabelle, but now turned towards Rosamund and put his hand over hers on the coverlet. ‘And will you forgive me?’

The pressure of his hand was having a strange effect on her heart. It was beating so hard it was making her breathless. Was he going to talk about what had
happened on their wedding night, perhaps explain himself? She tried to sound calm. ‘What is there to forgive?’

‘My anger. I should not have taken it out on you. I was angry with myself.’ He gave a twisted smile. ‘I am like all my sex, I do not like having my faults pointed out to me. But you were right and I was wrong.’

She knew how much of an effort that admission had taken even if it was not what she had hoped for. ‘I am often too outspoken,’ she admitted.

‘I deserved it.’

In his present mellow mood she felt bold enough to continue. ‘What I do not understand is why you did not want to bring up your daughter yourself? She is such a pretty little thing. Is she like her mother?’

‘A little, but I did not see it then. Babies all look alike, don’t they?’

She gave a suppressed chuckle and looked at Annabelle as she stirred in her sleep, but she did not wake. ‘That is a typical masculine reply, but she is no longer a baby, my lord. I can see a little of you in her. The eyes and the mouth. I think that could be a stubborn little mouth.’

He turned to look at the sleeping child. ‘She reminds me of my sister.’

‘I did not know you had a sister, my lord.’ There was so much she did not know about this enigmatic man and it seemed today was a day for revelations.

‘She died when she was six. The same age as Annabelle is now. I was only eight at the time.’

‘An impressionable age.’

‘Yes. I did not understand how anyone could be so
alive one day and so cold and lifeless the next. It frightened me. It was the same when Beth died.’

She was slowly beginning to understand. He had loved his wife and had been unable to come to terms with her death. ‘But this little one is not dead, is she?’ she said, refusing to entertain the pang of jealousy that made itself felt.

‘No, thank God, but if you had not found her, she might have been.’

‘We will not talk of what might have been, my lord, but the future. You will not send her away again, will you?’

‘No, with you to watch over her, I would not dare.’ It was said with a touch of ironic humour, which made her smile.

‘I think I shall enjoy being a mother,’ she said.

They both fell silent, reminded of their bargain. No progress had been made in that direction at all. But perhaps now they had established some kind of rapport, the situation might change. She surprised herself with how much she wanted it to.

She slept fitfully that night, her ears attuned to any sound coming from the dressing room, ready to rush in if Annabelle needed her; consequently she woke later than usual and, dressing in a hurry, went into the next room to find Harry sitting on the stool, watching his sleeping daughter. ‘She looks so peaceful,’ he whispered, standing up. ‘We will not waken her.’

He took her elbow and guided her back into her bedroom, where Janet was busy. ‘See to the child,’ he told her. She scuttled into the dressing room.

‘I have to go back to town,’ he said after the maid had left. ‘I will be as quick as I can and should be back tomorrow. Can you manage?’

She tried not to let her disappointment show. Nothing had changed, after all. ‘Of course. What about Sir Ashley?’

‘He left on horseback half an hour ago. I shall take the coach.’

‘Oh.’ She paused, wondering whether to say what was in her mind. ‘Harry, do you trust Sir Ashley?’ she asked.

‘Entirely, my dear. Why do you ask?’

‘I noticed that the portmanteau he carried with him when he arrived yesterday was remarkably like the one the highwayman took from your carriage, and the horse was identical to the one he rides. Its markings are very distinctive.’

Harry silently cursed his oversight. Aloud he said. ‘I do not suppose Ash’s is the only horse marked like that. And portmanteaux of that design are manufactured in their hundreds. The idea that Ash is a highwayman is ridiculous. Anyway, why would he rob me? He has his own fortune.’

‘I am sorry, I did not mean to accuse him, I just thought…’ Her voice tailed away; she was not sure what she had thought. ‘I meant only to point out what I had noticed.’

‘Then I thank you, but you need have no fear. Sir Ashley is my friend. I would trust him with my life.’ He bent forwards and kissed her cheek. ‘I must go. I will be back tomorrow.’ He left her rubbing her cheek where his lips had touched it. Was this all there would
ever be, a few kind words, a touching of hands, a chaste kiss on the cheek, when she wanted so much more?

‘My wife is too observant for comfort, Ash,’ he said with a wry smile, that evening. They were dining at Portman House because they could talk there without being overheard. ‘She recognised your portmanteau and your horse yesterday and came to the conclusion that it was you who had robbed me. I had to explain that your horse is not unique and neither is the bag.’

‘Was she satisfied?’

‘She seemed to be.’

‘Had you thought of telling her the truth?’

‘Good God, no! That side of my life is a closed book to everyone but the Piccadilly Gentlemen. It is the only way I can work.’

‘Have you made contact with the gang? Did they swallow the story of the hold-up?’

‘I think so. O’Keefe said he witnessed it himself. He had followed you and was hiding in some bushes nearby, so I am very glad we worked that ruse.’

‘Then he must also have seen Lady Portman.’

‘Yes, and that worries me, but as long as he does not connect Lord Portman with Gus Housman, she should be safe enough. It is one reason, and a very compelling one, for not telling her what I am up to.’

‘I think I had better dispose of that stallion. It is a pity, he is a good mount, but if her ladyship recognised it, so might others.’

‘I am sorry for that,’ Harry said. ‘If it had not been for Rosamund…’

Ash laughed. ‘If it had not been for your dear lady
pointing out our mistakes we might never have thought of them and O’Keefe might have twigged what was happening. Now, at least we can take steps to limit the damage.’

It was still early when they finished their meal and by common consent they repaired to White’s for a game of cards and to listen to the gossip, most of which centred around who was and who was not going to receive an invitation to the Royal nuptials; where was the best place from which to view the coronation procession; and who had been held up and robbed on his lawful business about the capital. Harry made one or two mental notes for passing on at the meeting of the Piccadilly Gentleman the next day. Then, all being well, he could head back to Rosamund and Annabelle with a clear conscience.

White’s had a new proprietor since Mr Arthur had died the previous month. His name was Robert Mackreth. Harry had asked him to be on the lookout for clipped coins, telling him he was making enquiries at the behest of Sir John Fielding without mentioning the Society. People had heard of it, of course, but its purpose and exact membership could only be guessed. He and Ash were enjoying a class of Rhenish wine and settling down to a game of whist, when Mackreth bent to whisper in Harry’s ear, ‘My lord, I would have a private word with you.’

Harry excused himself and followed him from the room to a small room off the corridor used as an office. ‘My lord, you asked me to let you know if I ever received clipped guineas.’ He held out two coins. ‘I believe these are counterfeit.’

Harry took them, weighed them in his hand one at a time, then examined the milling. ‘Yes, these have been clipped. Do you know who gave them to you?’

‘No, the wine waiter took them, not realising they were not genuine, but I have made a list of everyone who was on the premises at the time.’ He went to a desk and produced a sheet of paper. ‘They are all bone-fide members and their guests.’

‘Thank you. I will study it later. They may all be innocent victims, but if you receive any more, make another list. If the same names crop up again, we shall be able to narrow down the suspects. I am sure I do not need to tell you that you should say nothing to anyone.’

‘You may rely on me.’

Harry reimbursed the man for the clipped coins and pocketed them along with the list, and returned to his game. Whoever was passing the coins was becoming bolder, or perhaps more desperate. He was sure it was not Job Smithall because he had no access to White’s. It was not beyond the bounds of possibility that some gentleman member, whose gambling debts were more than he was able to honour, had succumbed to temptation.

In no time Annabelle began to recover and the good food and care she received soon put a little flesh on her bones and roses in her cheeks. Her bed had been removed from Rosamund’s dressing room and she had been given a room of her own a little further down the corridor, and she was soon running about and exploring her surroundings, all of which enthralled her. Rosamund had bespoken clothes for her from a seamstress
whom Mrs Rivers knew and other items were obtained from shops in Hounslow and Isleworth.