Authors: Alicia Meadowes
Two weeks passed, and nothing was seen or heard from the earl since that gloomy afternoon when he had presented Marisa with
his stunning proposal.
During that time she was learning the use of
crutches, and it was Josefe, the guitarist, who assisted the countess up and down the stairs. Whatever its outcome, the earl’s
proposal had acted as a catalyst to stir Marisa out of her apathy.
She spent hours mulling over his offer to dissolve the marriage, alternately desiring and rejecting the idea. What of the
scandal? What kind of future would it mean for her? Did she really want to part from him?
But, oh, to be free and retire from the demands of the world. She would seek solitude and follow’her own private dictates
with no need to consider obligations to others ever again. She had done that for her father and her husband and it had proved
a disaster. Now she would satisfy only herself. The temptation was alluring.
The prospect of putting together a life of peace in the country with none to trouble her was more fantasy than reality. Deep
within, Marisa knew there was no escape into a cocoon of safety such as she was spinning in the secret recesses of her mind.
The daydreaming was a necessary interlude that fed the deeper springs of self, allowing nature to restore the wasted substance
of her body and the depleted reserves of her spirit. Even if she were to part from Straeford it would not be to withdraw from
life. She had too much love to give to truly desire isolation.
Besides, Edward Harding had impressed Marisa with a thought that had not occurred to her after Justin had offered her her
freedom. Did Marisa realize, the gentleman had said, what it must have cost the earl to make such an offer? All of Lord Straeford’s
goals had centered on the restoration of his family estate and its good name. Think what the scandal of divorce would cost
him, Justin’s friend reminded her. Not that the earl would. admit that he cared for the world’s opinion. Never.
And what of the heir that his lordship so ardently desired? If the Straefords were to part, she could be sure Justin would
never again pursue such a goal. His distrust of the female sex would be forever sealed.
Marisa tried to disregard this plea for her husband. It was just such reasoning as had ensnared her in the unhappy condition
in which she had so recently been bound.
“Do not speak to me of pity for his plight, sir. It serves only to force me down a path I had hoped was reaching an end.”
But even as she spoke these words she doubted her own conviction.
“If you’ll pardon so bold an interference on my part, my dear, I think it is time someone told you a little of the St. Clare
family history. Perhaps you should be made aware of the causes of Justin’s bitterness towards women.” Edward Harding looked
to Marisa and waited for her permission to go on.
She fidgeted with the blanket over her knees and held him off, not looking at him, listening to the clock in the hall chime
the hour. But at last she relented and gave him a nod of assent.
“I will not trouble you With a prolonged tale of woe. Merely I wish you to know that Justin’s was not a happy childhood. For
reasons I do not understand, Justin’s mother, Lady Marian, seemed unable to tolerate him as a lad. She preferred Robert to
a degree that was unpardonable.”
“Yes, I know. Lady Maxwell so informed me, but it hardly explains the misogyny of the man I married.”
“That is true, I agree. And I would not want you to think Justin minded his mother’s partiality toward Robert overmuch. I
shared my childhood with the St. Clare boys, and Justin ever loved his brother. If anything, he felt his mother’s preference
to be perfectly placed.”
“Now that I
do
find sad,” Marisa commented quietly.
“Of course, I must admit, Justin was compensated by his father’s love, and Justin idolized his father. He made his life a
model of that man’s virtues—duty to country and such. But a boy needs the gentling of his mother’s love as well, and that,
I’m afraid, Justin never had.”
“Lady Maxwell did not tell me the whole of it, and now that you have opened Pandora’s box,” Marisa claimed in final capitulation,
“you might as well tell me the whole story this time.”
Edward smiled ruefully at this unflattering comparison. “No, even I do not know the whole, but I shall endeavor to tell you
what I
do
know. However, it is much
more than I had planned to say.” He paused, watching Marisa’s reaction, and when she continued to listen expectantly, he picked
up the thread of the story he had begun.
“As you have heard, Justin left home at the age of seventeen and returned at the time of his brother’s death. There was a
terrible row between Justin and his mother over Ellis Huxley, the man Lady Marian married following the death of Justin’s
father. Huxley had wasted the estate, and.,. was instrumental in causing Robert’s death.”
“You mean Lady Marian’s second husband caused the death of her very own son?” Marisa questioned incredulously.
“Indeed I do.”
“Dear Lord, how terrible. But how do you know all this?”
“As for the dissipation of the Straeford estate—Robert had taken me into his confidence and shown me proof of Huxley’s chicanery.
There was no question that he squandered it in reckless speculation and gambling. And I was present at that terrible scene
when Huxley was killed and Lady Marian turned on Justin.”
“Dear God,” Marisa whispered, her eyes wide with wonder. “Lady Clarkson once intimated that there was a scandal, but it never
dawned on me it could be so monstrous.”
“Monstrous is a mild word for the infamy spawned by Huxley.”
“You must tell me all of it now,” she demanded.
Harding continued reluctantly. “Justin came back from India after receiving word from his grandmother that Robert was dead.
Robert had already written to Justin concerning his discovery of Huxley’s misappropriation of the family fortune, and Justin
suspected foul play where Robert’s death was concerned. He had no proof however, until Jem Cooper made an attempt on Justin’s
life.”
“Jem Cooper? Who is Jem Cooper? I’m getting terribly confused.”
“I’m not surprised—the whole affair was such a shocking tangle of villainy. Jem Cooper was a desperate
rogue hired by Huxley to murder Robert and make it look like an attack by thieves on Hounslow Heath. He would have gotten
away with it if he hadn’t attempted murder a second time—with Justin as the target.”
“This is beyond belief. I remember how Lady Maxwell reacted when I asked her about Robert’s death. Now I understand her reluctance
to speak. This is a dreadful story.”
“It’s only half of it, my dear. You see, Justin is a tough customer to tangle with, and in the outcome of that sorry episode,
Jem Cooper was begging for his
own
life before your husband was finished with him. Cooper spilled the whole shameful plot and agreed to aid Justin in a counter-plot
to entrap Huxley.”
“There’s not a man alive who can outsmart the earl.”
Marisa’s view of her husband’s invincibility brought a smile to Harding’s lips. “Be that as it may, Jem Cooper forced Huxley
to meet him at Straeford Park supposedly to demand more money. Justin and I, who were in hiding, witnessed the whole transaction.
Huxley was not so easily manipulated, however, and when he drew a pistol on Cooper there followed a struggle in which Huxley
was mortally wounded. Lady Marian heard the shot—it was well past midnight—and came flying into the library…” Here Harding
paused, as if reliving that fateful scene of disaster.
“You may as well finish it, sir. What happened then?” Marisa prodded.
“She was as a madwoman. Her unbound hair was streaming over her night dress, and taking in the situation, she flung herself
on top of Huxley’s body moaning with grief.”
“Ellis, oh my God, Ellis,” she cried. “What have you done? What have you done?”
“Mother, please,” Justin leaned down to lift Lady Marian from the dead man’s body, but she whirled on him and hissed, “Devil!
Don’t you dare touch me. You demon! You’ve killed him.”
“It was an accident, Mother. I didn’t wish him to die before he could explain to you the evil he has wrought.”
“Liar! Murdering liar! You’ve always hated him and
wished him dead. And now you have killed him in cold blood. First my precious son Robert, and now my beloved Ellis. Oh God,
I curse the day you were born. For the rest of my days I shall call for your black soul to rot in hell. Get out of my sight.
I never want to see your face again.”
“Justin was stricken, his face pale and grim, but he tried several times to tell her the truth about Huxley. She would hear
nothing but kept insisting that everything was his fault. Somehow she tangled Robert’s and Huxley’s deaths together and held
Justin responsible for all the family misfortunes. I think her mind must have snapped that night. She continued screaming
curses and imprecations until Justin could bear no more. He left for London that very night and tried to put together a life
for himself as the new Earl of Straeford. He even became engaged to be married. But his mother, who had been secluded at Straeford
Park, suddenly appeared in town on the night of the betrothal party, and having drunk too much, she got hold of Arabella Stanton,
and shocked the girl witless with lies about Justin.
“I can still recall the look on Justin’s face that night at the Stantons’. He knew what was coming but bore it with a kind
of hopeless dignity. I think it was then that he became fixed in his bitter attitude toward women.”
“I do not think I can bear to hear any more,” Marisa whispered, struggling to keep back the tears that choked her throat.
“We are almost at the end now. I may as well finish.”
Marisa nodded him on.
“Arabella was entertaining at the pianoforte when I noticed a change in the atmosphere of the drawing room. It was as if a
subtle tension laid hold of everyone. I looked up and beheld the former Lady Straeford standing in the doorway, and I knew
at once that Justin was in for some rough going. She was dressed in stark black unrelieved by any ornamentation—she always
said she hated the color—and her black hair, that lustrous dark mantle was gleaming on her shoulders. Her green eyes seemed
to smolder with a dark fire that turned them almost black.
She stood there imperiously surveying the room until every eye was on her, and Arabella had ceased playing. Then the ex-countess
walked over to Justin and sat beside him. Arabella, a pale little bird of a girl, resumed playing, but faltered several times
and soon left off to go to Justin’s side.”
“You must introduce me to your betrothed, my son,” Marian Huxley claimed in a deep contralto voice loud enough for those around
her to hear.
“Of course, madam. I shall be honored,” Justin replied impassively.
As soon as Arabella was presented to her, Justin’s mother set about accomplishing her wicked purpose for the night.
“And have you been a long-time acquaintance of this returned… prodigal, my dear?” she queried.
“No, my lady, it is but barely six weeks since we met at Lord Broadhurst’s.”
“The marquess?” Lady Marian arched her brow in feigned surprise as Arabella nodded meekly. “I did not know my son traveled
in such elect circles.”
Arabella looked confused and replied vaguely, “We are related on my mother’s side…”
“Ah,” Lady Marian nodded sagely, “money on both sides. How fortunate.”
Arabella’s eyes flew wide at the lady’s vulgar reference to her family fortune, and she turned a fiery red as she realized
that many nearby had overheard her future mother-in-law’s ill-chosen words.
“Arabella’s brother was in my regiment at Kim-balla,” Justin intervened, trying to head off the mischief his mother was brewing.
“It was through his good offices that I made Miss Stanton’s acquaintance,” he added drily.
His fiancee smiled tentatively, sensing the antagonism between mother and son.
“Again I say, how fortunate. And yet ‘tis not surprising when one sees how destiny holds you iri her favor.” She inclined
her head toward Justin. “To think, a mere soldier one day and earl the next.” An ugly sneer had crept into her voice.
“I have never seen Straeford Park,” Arabella interjected to no particular point.
“Oh, you must visit me and see for yourself to what purpose you can apply your ready fortune—my son may have the title, but
he is quite penniless, as you know.”
Miss Stanton could no longer doubt the lady’s ill-will. She looked from Justin to his mother, her face now pale and frightened.
“I don’t believe you are acquainted with Randolph Stanton, Mother. Allow me to mend that situation now.” Justin rose to his
feet, his face revealing nothing but polite courtesy.
“Tut, tut, my dear, I have not yet finished my little coze with your charming affianced. Not trying to prevent our getting
to know each other, are you?”
Justin shrugged indifferently, and seated himself once more. “As you wish, madam. I am, as ever, at your service.”
“Then be a good boy and take yourself off for a while, that we women may speak more openly to each other.”
Arabella cast an imploring look to Justin, who smiled encouragingly at her. “Perhaps you ladies might enjoy some refreshment.
A glass of ratafia, my dear?” he addressed himself to his future bride.
“Ratafia!” Lady Marian scoffed. “I should hope you might offer us something worth drinking. Is there no champagne to toast
this memorable occasion?”
“What say you, Arabella? Shall I fetch you champagne as my mother suggests?”
“Yes, please,” Miss Stanton whispered, wondering how she was ever to extricate herself from the clutches of this frightening
woman who loomed so suddenly on the bright horizon of her safe little world. “Only, do not be gone long, my lord.”
“I will be back within minutes,” Justin promised as if giving his mother fair warning. He was leaving the field open for her
to do her worst, but it was a temporary retreat.
“So sweet, dear Arabella. Young love is so urgent, is it not.”
Miss Stanton tested another smile on the lady in hopes of warding off the unpleasantness she felt was coming.