Spoiled (26 page)

 

Michael and Gabriel waited on Lord and Lady Ashbourne at the cottage the following morning. Contrary to his expectations, Michael had slept well after an appetizing dinner which he had shared with Lord and Lady Ilam. Eustacia had exerted herself to please, telling Michael some stories of the time when she had stayed with Lady Agatha at the vicarage. She had even managed to make him laugh with her spirited account of how on one occasion her ladyship had chased Mr Lusty out of the house with an umbrella. She had also told him about how her husband had thrown a punch at his father and she had got in the way so that Gabriel had knocked her to the ground senseless.

‘I told you I nearly hit him,' Gabriel reminded Michael.

‘But you forgave him,' Michael said to Stacia.

‘True love always forgives,' Lady Ilam replied, her gaze softening as she looked at her husband.

‘Does it?' Michael replied. That night he dreamed of Evangeline running towards him, her beautiful hair loose and streaming behind her. He woke up to a feeling of bitter disappointment. Yes, he still loved her. He could forgive her everything that she had said and done. But did she really love him? What was more, could she forgive him for his unkind words? He doubted it.

 

As Michael and Gabriel ascended the stairs, they could hear Lord and Lady Ashbourne arguing. ‘I am perfectly fit,' Lady Ashbourne was saying. ‘There is absolutely no reason why I should be lying in bed like this.'

‘The doctor has said that you should be in bed for a week and that is where you shall stay,' his lordship replied. ‘If it is any consolation, I have made myself just as much a prisoner as you.'

‘Having you with me is the only thing that makes this in any way tolerable,' his wife replied.

Gabriel smiled at Michael, then knocked at the door and they both went in, to see that Lord Ashbourne was just straightening from having placed a kiss upon his wife's lips. It seemed like such a private moment that Michael wanted to excuse himself.

It was Jessie who spoke first. ‘Come in, both of you,' she said. She smiled at Michael. It was an expression of extraordinary sweetness. ‘You too, Michael,' she said. Then she turned to her husband. ‘Now, Raff, it is high time that this was settled between you.'

‘Settled, my love?' the earl echoed.

‘Just because I have given birth recently does not mean that my brains have deserted me,' she replied, her tone just a little astringent.

‘We have reached an understanding,' said her husband. He turned to Michael. ‘Is that not so?'

‘Indeed,' Michael answered a little stiffly.

‘But how can you reach an
understanding
if Michael does not really
understand
?' she replied. ‘Raff, take off your shirt, if you please.' All three men stared at her.

‘Jez, my dear, I hardly think …' murmured the earl. As on the previous occasion, he was in his shirt sleeves.

‘Ashbourne!' said Jessie peremptorily. Then her tone softened as she said, ‘For me?'

Ashbourne sighed. ‘When she calls me “Ashbourne” I know I have to obey,' he said. Then to the astonishment of both the other men present, he took off his cravat and began to unfasten his shirt.

‘I will bid you farewell then,' said Michael.

‘And I,' added Gabriel.

‘Nonsense. You have only just arrived,' said Jessie firmly. ‘You will both remain here, or I will not answer for the consequences.' By this time, Ashbourne had unfastened his shirt and, after one brief, long-suffering glance at his wife, pulled it over his head. ‘Now turn your back,' Jessie told him. Slowly, Raff turned round.

Two years before, Michael had been called upon to attend a dying man who had once served at sea. In order to make his last hours more comfortable, his wife had enlisted Michael's help in changing his night shirt. Whilst performing this task, Michael had noticed the ridged scars criss-crossing the man's back. ‘Those are the marks of the lash,' his wife said. ‘Flogged within an inch of his life, he was.' To his horror, Michael now saw exactly the same kind of scars marring the contours of his father's back.

‘Tell them, Raff,' said Jessie.

He stood facing the window for what seemed like a long time, but what was probably only a minute or two. Finally, he turned to face them. Even his chest, though not marked nearly as badly, had not gone unscathed. ‘This was the price I paid for telling my father that I wanted to marry your mother,' he said to Michael. ‘My staying away from you was the price I paid to avoid your mother receiving the same treatment. May I put my shirt on again, my dear? I'm not accustomed to being as undressed as this in company.' There was a short pause as he put his appearance to rights. ‘As a matter of fact, it took me some little time to recover physically and it was several weeks before I returned to full health. By then, my father had made all the arrangements for Dora to be sent to a distant county and for her family to be housed elsewhere. Despite all my father's warnings, I did attempt secretly to find her, but to no avail.'

‘But this was infamous,' Michael whispered.

‘I do not expect you to forgive me,' said Ashbourne after another long silence. ‘All I ask is that you try to understand.'

Michael stared at his father. Snatches of memory rushed through his mind. Evangeline telling him she loved him and saying that she was sorry, whilst he turned coldly away; his mother whispering Raff's name as she breathed her last; Stacia saying that true love forgives.

None of them ever forgot what happened next. At one moment, Michael and Ashbourne were standing on opposite sides of the bed. At the next, Michael had moved hastily, almost clumsily, around to where his father was standing and caught hold of his hands. ‘Of course I forgive you,' he said, his voice full of emotion. ‘How could I do any other, especially when I know that my mother had done so?'

‘Dora forgave me?' Ashbourne's voice was a little unsteady.

‘The very last thing that she said was your name,' Michael replied softly.

Briefly, Ashbourne closed his eyes. When he opened them, his gaze sought out that of his wife. ‘Of course she did,' said Jessie, smiling at him. ‘If you love someone, then you forgive them.'

There was that phrase again. Suddenly, Michael knew that there was something that he must do. ‘My lord,' he said to Ashbourne, ‘if you will excuse me, I have an errand that will not wait.'

‘Take a horse from my stables,' said Ilam.

It was Michael's intention to do exactly that, but he had only just reached Illingham Hall when Evangeline herself came into view, mounted on her pretty mare and with her groom riding behind. At sight of him, she blushed furiously. He could feel that his own colour was also heightened. ‘Evangeline; Miss Granby. I was hoping that I might speak with you.'

‘Yes … Oh yes,' she stammered, flustered. ‘She wants to tell me to be gone, but is too polite to do so in public,' Michael thought to himself. She turned to her groom, who dismounted, and helped her down. She was about to walk towards Michael, when, with a little exclamation of annoyance, she turned back and took some papers from the bag attached to her saddle. As she did so, she stumbled slightly. Michael thought that she looked tired, as if she had been in the saddle for a long time.

‘Let us go into the church porch and talk there,' he suggested.

They walked in silence through the lych gate and up the path. Fortunately, there was no one else about. Once inside the porch, they sat down on one of the benches and turned to face one another, both speaking at once as Michael said, ‘Evangeline, I must tell you …' whilst at the same time, Evangeline said, ‘Michael, I—' Michael gestured for Evangeline to speak first.

She had been planning what she would say next time she met him; how she would tell him, in the most dignified way possible, that her letter to the bishop had never been sent, that any boasting about conquests was something that she had grown out of long before. Now,
in his presence, all of her carefully worded phrases went out of her head. She simply looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears not very far away and whispered his name. Then she was in his arms, and they were holding one another close, as if they would never let go. For a long moment they remained thus, arms around each other, her cheek against his shoulder, his resting against her hair.

Eventually, they moved a little apart. ‘Michael, you must let me explain,' she began.

‘Ssh,' he responded. ‘It doesn't matter. It's all over now.'

‘But Michael—'

‘I love you.' Then of course she could not say any more, for they were kissing, and their kisses were like a solemn vow of love one for the other.

‘Michael, I want you to know that my letter never went to the bishop,' she said, as soon as she was able. ‘After you had gone, I went upstairs and found it in the leaves of a book. The letter that Elsie said she had sent for me had been a note to a friend that I had even forgotten I'd written.'

‘But although you did not send a letter, someone else did.' He released her gently and stood up. ‘My career is still under a cloud and may even be over. Evangeline, I should not be kissing you; holding you.'

She rose to her feet as well. ‘But, Michael, you have said that you love me and you know that I love you.'

‘Tell me honestly, do you think that your father would look upon me as a good match for you? I am disgraced and as good as penniless; soon I may even be unfrocked. Even if I am not, my career has hardly been characterized by glittering success. It may be years before I get my preferment. How can I ask you to share that with me?'

‘It may not be as bad as you say,' she said, after a brief silence. During their embrace, her papers had become scattered on the bench and on the floor. ‘You are right in saying that a complaint still exists, but that is only from one person. After you left yesterday, and since early this morning, I have been around the parish asking people what they think of you. Eustacia has been speaking to her staff and Mama has spoken with ours, too. See here' – she fumbled amongst her papers until she had found the right one – ‘Mrs Gibbons, our housekeeper said “He was so kind and listened to me and let me well nigh talk his head off and never complained”. And old Charlotte, whose husband died, said “He sat by his bedside for hours and such a lovely prayer did he say”. And Mama has written a letter …' She fumbled over the pages.

‘Evangeline, my dear, no more,' Michael interrupted, taking up her notes to read for himself. ‘Have you really been riding all over the parish to collect these notes?' He looked at her tenderly, noting the dark smudges beneath her eyes. She looked exhausted. ‘When did you set off this morning?'

‘At first light,' she confessed. ‘I wanted to catch some of the farmers before they went out into the fields. But that's not important. What matters is that the bishop should see that people here really love you. It would be a wicked crime for you to leave here now and so I shall tell him.'

‘It's important to me,' he said. ‘You have done all that for me?'

‘There's nothing I wouldn't do for you,' she answered simply. After those words he had to kiss her once more. Now, the desire for her that roared through his veins was mingled with protectiveness, adoration and deep respect.

Eventually, she said, ‘Michael, I want you to know that I never boasted about being able to … to snare you. I may have done that sort of thing years ago, but—'

He did not allow her to finish what she was saying. ‘You are better than I, then,' he said after he had kissed her again, ‘for I have always seen you as a prize to be won; a prize that was beyond my reach.'

‘Not beyond your reach, but in your arms,' she murmured.

 

From various incidents that had occurred recently, the whole family had guessed the nature of Michael and Evangeline's feelings for one another. When the two of them turned up at the cottage looking as though there was an understanding between them, no one was particularly surprised.

Jessie was cradling the Honourable Miss Leonora Montgomery, who was awake but looking very contented, and she asked Evangeline whether she would like to hold her. Evangeline had very little experience of holding such a tiny child, but she sat next to Jessie, and took the baby carefully.

‘They'll be cooing for ages,' said Ilam. ‘Believe me, I know.'

‘Shall we…?' Michael began. ‘I mean, would you like to come downstairs for a glass of wine? Gabriel? My lord?'

‘Thank you,' said Ashbourne. ‘But don't call me that.'

‘I can't call you—' Michael began, as they descended the stairs.

‘I don't expect you to call me father, although you're free to do so if you wish. When Gabriel hated me, he used to call me Ashbourne. Now he calls me Raff. Or call me Raphael if you prefer.'

Michael did not answer, but made himself busy with pouring the wine. That done, he took a glass each to the other two men. ‘Gabriel; sir,' he said, as he handed them over.

‘“Sir” will do for now,' murmured Raff with a grin. ‘Now, Michael – or would you prefer it if I continued to call you Mr Buckleigh?'

Gabriel gave a crack of laughter. The others looked at him. ‘It's just the very entertaining notion of Michael calling you Raff whilst you call him Mr Buckleigh,' he explained. After they had all joined in the laughter, they felt much more at ease.

‘Michael, we must consider your situation,' said Ashbourne.

Michael straightened his shoulders. ‘When I was a boy, James Warrener told me that nobody owed me anything. I have always tried to live by that maxim. You owe me nothing and I have no wish to be beholden to you.'

Raff stared down into his wine for a long moment. Then he looked up at his first-born son. ‘The other day, before you left this cottage, you told me that you were going to walk away just as I did. Well, perhaps I didn't exactly do that, but I was not there to help you. The reason I was not there, was because
my
own father would not help
me
. I want to be a better father than he was. I don't ask to fight your battles for you; just to be allowed to stand alongside you. May I do that?'