Margaret Moore (29 page)

“I considered it the wisest course of action,
given that the king was determined. Should I assume you will be returning to Blythe Hall shortly? If so, I will write another letter and let you take it to her.”

Before Richard could answer, or even think of what he should do next, there came a very soft and tentative knock on the closed door.

“What is it?” Mr. Harding called out.

A subdued Dillsworth stuck his head inside the room. “I’m very sorry to disturb you, sir, but there’s a lady come who wishes to speak with you. It’s urgent, she says.”

“D
id this lady not give a name?” Mr. Harding inquired. “She says her name is Lady Dovercourt, sir.”

“Elissa is here?” Richard cried. He rushed to the door and shoved the startled clerk out of the way. “Elissa!”

Elissa let go of Will’s hand and jumped up from her place on the bench where she had been waiting. “Richard!”

“Papa!” Will cried, then clapped his hand over his mouth, his face flushing.

Elissa looked down at her son, surprised by his choice of words, then returned her gaze to her husband who, for the first time in their acquaintance, looked doubtful and unsure.

Mr. Harding, however, was not. He strode forward. “Lord and Lady Dovercourt, please avail yourself of my office. Dillsworth, Will, and I shall go for a walk.”

Elissa stopped staring at Richard, whose gaze finally wavered. “I beg your pardon?” she said.

“I said, Dillsworth, your son, and I shall leave you two alone for a little and take a walk. Come along, Will.
Dillsworth!”

Mr. Harding addressed the clerk with some emphasis, for the young man, his mouth agape, had apparently gone hard of hearing.

“Please, Will, go with Mr. Harding,” Elissa said softly.

Although she, too, was feeling far from confident, she was grateful for this sudden and unexpected opportunity. She needed to speak to Richard alone.

Mr. Harding went to take Will’s hand, but he moved away, looking uncertainly from his mother to his stepfather.

“I’m sorry!” he suddenly cried with an air of desperation.

“You’re sorry?” Elissa repeated, concentrating on her obviously distressed son. “Why should you be sorry?”

“For making Richard go away.” Tears filled Will’s eyes as he looked at Richard. “I promise I won’t touch another sword ever again as long as I live if you’ll come home.”

“Oh, Will,” Elissa cried, guilt-ridden that she had never considered what reason her son might imagine for Richard’s departure if she did not explain it.

“Will, my leaving had very little to do with
that,” Richard said softly, but with firm conviction as he went to the boy and knelt before him, putting his hands lightly on his shoulders. “Please believe me. You are not responsible for the, um, difficulties between your mother and me.”

“No, you’re not,” Elissa confirmed. “I am. It was my fault Richard went away.”

Richard rose and regarded her steadily. “It was my fault.”

Suddenly Mr. Harding cleared his throat. “We shall leave you two to mend your quarrel, shall we?”

To her surprise, Elissa saw what might have been a sparkle of amusement in the solicitor’s eyes as he came forward and took Will’s hand.

Will still seemed hesitant.

“It’s all right,” Elissa said softly. “We’ll be here when you get back.”

“Yes, we will,” Richard agreed. “Both of us.”

“I know a very fine pastry shop in the next street,” Mr. Harding remarked to no one in particular.

The lad looked somewhat mollified, and finally went with the others, leaving Richard and Elissa alone.

“Forgive—” she said at once.

“I’m sorry—” he began simultaneously. Then they both fell awkwardly silent.

Elissa smiled tremulously. “Let me speak first, please.”

Richard shook his head. “No, Elissa,” he said, taking her hand and leading her into Mr. Harding’s office. “I have been silent about some things too long, and it has caused us no end of trouble and pain. Hear me out, and then perhaps you will understand.”

“Very well,” she replied as she sat down, “as long as you first know this one thing. I trust you absolutely, Richard, and I know you would never hurt Will or me.”

“Oh, God, Elissa, I am glad to hear it!”

“Then I shall listen to anything you want to tell me, although perhaps I should also say that I may know more than you think.”

His brow furrowed. “About what?”

She flushed but did not look away. “About your parents. Alfred Sedgemore was very eager to tell me about them.”

“Ah, the accommodating Mr. Sedgemore!” he replied with a sneer.

“Who knows far more about my legal affairs than he should,” Elissa added. “I think if we suspect anyone of criminal activity, it should be—”

“That worm. I think so, too. Heartless Harding is being very coy with his information, yet I believe Sedgemore’s days of freedom are definitely numbered.”

“I am so sorry for accusing you, Richard! I should have listened to my heart, and trusted in you.”

“Given what you heard of me, I cannot
blame you.” He leaned against the desk. “I daresay Sedgemore painted a disgusting picture.”

“Yes.”

Richard shoved himself off the desk and walked around it, dragging his fingers over the scarred surface. “My parents
were
disgusting, and my home an unhappy one, Elissa. Indeed, it was miserable, but I didn’t know how miserable until I was older and came to understand that not all families were like mine. Not every son tread carefully lest he upset his mother or his father, or immerse himself in his studies to find sanctuary. Not every child lived with a nearly unbearable tension when his parents were in the same room, or flinched to hear them speak to one another in the meanest, cruelest, most vulgar terms when the servants were not within hearing. And when the servants were within hearing, did not have to marvel at the complete change in their manner toward each other.”

He glanced at Elissa. “I learned about hypocrisy at a very tender age, although I did not have a name for it.”

He sighed and sat in Mr. Harding’s chair. “Forgive me for what I am going to tell you next, for it is not fit for a lady’s ears, but I would have you know all, so that you might understand why I am the way I am.”

Elissa nodded, trying to listen without betraying either foreknowledge, shock, or dismay,
even as her grip tightened on the arms of her chair.

“So, now you know the loving atmosphere in which I existed,” he said, continuing to regard her with steady intensity. “But there was more, and worse, to discover.

“One night, when I was eight years old, I was awakened by a bad dream. I had many bad dreams, but this was worse than most, I assume, although I don’t remember what it was.

“At any rate, I wanted my mother.” His bitter laugh was terrible and sad to hear. “Why I wanted her when she either ignored or berated me during the day, I don’t know, but I suppose any mother is better than none when you are a frightened child.

“So I looked for her. Neither she nor my father were in their bedchambers. I heard some music and went to the window, where I saw light in the Banqueting House.

“I knew they often entertained their friends very late in that place, so I decided I would seek my mother there.”

He sighed again and passed a hand over his forehead. “I remember I felt as if I were on a great adventure, creeping outside in the summer’s night. I remember the dewy grass wetting my feet, and how the moon shone. I was a little frightened of the shadows, but I was filled with curiosity to learn what a grown-up party was like.”

He paused and looked away. “There were times I wished I had been stricken blind rather than see what I did when I looked through the window of the Banqueting House. I saw sweets and wine spilled on the table as if pigs had rooted there. I saw decor that wouldn’t be out of place in a sultan’s harem.”

His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “I saw naked bodies intertwined, couples and threesomes and more, like snakes writhing in a pit.

“And then I saw my mother with a man who was not my father, and my father with a woman I had never seen before.”

“Oh, Richard, how terrible for you!” she said softly, rising to go to him. She knelt beside him and gently put her arms around him.

He sat completely still, as if incapable of movement, until he sighed raggedly and looked at her. “I was literally sickened by what I had seen,” he confessed. “I stumbled back to the house, too shocked to comprehend the full import of what I had witnessed. The next day, they acted as they always had, as if they were like anybody else, and moral, upright gentlefolk. To know that at night, they could be so different—and then to suddenly understand the sly glances that passed between them and their guests.”

“Richard, I am so sorry,” Elissa whispered.

He regarded her with mournful eyes. “I think this was how they endured their loveless
marriage. Each was free to take lovers and to indulge in whatever carnal exercises they could devise.

“Unfortunately, after my mother died, my father acted with less care and subtlety, so when I heard he had seduced my uncle’s bride, I could well believe it.” He sighed again and raked his hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t put it past Sedgemore to claim I participated in such disgusting things.”

“He implied it,” she admitted.

“Damn him, I knew it,” he muttered, kneading his fist. “I was but a child!”

“I wondered… I feared that you were forced.”

His expression softened. “No, Elissa, no,” he replied gravely. “I saw, but nothing more. That was enough to make me lose all respect for my parents, but even they were not that base.”

“You said you were robbed of your childhood.”

“Not that way.”

He put his hand over hers. The mask of wry, worldly invincibility he had worn for so long started to crumple as hot tears burned his eyes. “It was enough to see…”

Elissa rose and pulled him into her comforting embrace.

“Shh, my love, shh,” she crooned as he finally wept for his lost childhood, comforted at
last as he had never been in his lonely, bitter life.

“Oh, Elissa,” he whispered as he tried to choke back the wretched sobs.

He looked into her sympathetic eyes. “I need you. You and Will are the best things that have ever happened to me. I would rather kill myself than hurt either of you. Please forgive me for doing anything to make you hate me.”

“Hate you?” she repeated wonderingly. “I don’t hate you. Oh, my darling,” she cried softly, regarding him with a gentle, loving smile. “Don’t you see? I was not upset because I hate you. I was upset because I had come to love you so much. Too much, I feared.”

A look of sudden comprehension came to his eyes. “Foz said you were afraid. I thought he meant that you were afraid of me.”

“I was afraid of what I felt for you, its power and strength. I was afraid my love for you made me weak.”

“Not you, my dearest. Never you. I would find it easier to believe a mountain would crumble to dust in a day than you would weaken.”

“Perhaps if the mountain came to love someone as I do you, it would—especially when the lover left. And what should I forgive you for? For keeping your parents’ shame a secret? I could not fault you for that. I have done the same. I didn’t want anyone to know about William Longbourne.”

“I already know about his … propensities. I recognized him from his portrait.” Richard’s lips twisted in a sardonic smile. “He was one of my mother’s many friends.”

Elissa’s eyes widened. “Then he was a decadent man long before I knew him,” she said wearily. “I wish there had been some outward sign of his inward corruption. Unfortunately, there was not, or if there was, we were all too naive to see it. He tricked everyone in Owston with his outward friendliness, but he really hated everyone and believed himself superior. In private, he could be terribly cruel.

“I don’t think he even loved his own child, except as a potential heir and proof of his virility. I regret I ever met him and curse myself for a fool for marrying him. The only thing I cherish about my first marriage is Will.”

Richard sighed. “Deception appears in many guises, and such people are, I fear, all too common.”

He gave her a little smile of commiseration. “I have met some very gifted actors in my time, but none as good as some of the actors I have encountered elsewhere.”

“I also discovered the shame of being a silly, vain young woman who fools herself into believing she loves an attractive, flattering, admiring man who talks of love and marriage.”

Richard took her hand in his. “You are not the first to learn this lesson, Elissa, and I daresay you won’t be the last.” His brow wrinkled.
“I cannot bear to think of anyone laying a hand on you.”

“He didn’t beat me, although he was often rough. His words could sting worse than a blow. And he was so hard to please! Especially in bed. Then, one night when he had chastised me as a stupid cow unworthy of him, he said he would have to teach me all about love. Not the kind that poets drone on about, but exciting, passionate desire that could be sated any number of ways, with any number of partners.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Of either sex.”

“Oh, Elissa,” Richard said softly and sympathetically.

He put his knuckle under her chin and gently raised her face so that she could not look away. “Elissa, you know that I am a man of the world. There is not much of the worst of human nature that I have not heard about.

“Did he force you?” he asked quietly, thinking of this proud, spirited woman humiliated and ashamed, yet all the while marveling that she could still be so strong.

“No. I told him I would never degrade myself in such a manner and I was disgusted that he would not only engage in that licentious debauchery, but that he would try to corrupt me, too. He did not laugh at that. He became angry and told me that he had married me because he wanted a son. He would make love with me for that purpose, and only that purpose,
from then on, and he would have his sport elsewhere.”

She sighed again and laid her head against Richard’s shoulder. “As time passed, I became grateful that he at least had enough decency to engage in his disgusting pursuits away from Owston.”