The Ghost Who Loved Me (2 page)

He dreaded going home, angry he got the shortest end of the stick in all of this, fuming over what was being bandied about the great hall tonight.

The recent gossip at court suggested Isabelle was King Henry’s favorite mistress for a time; the true reason the king wed her away so quickly. Henry wished to avoid the queen discovering his latest indiscretion.

James could see it was entirely plausible. Henry making Isabelle, a lady with little wealth or title, a duchess, may have been done to keep her silent of the matter.

He felt sorely used if that were the case.

Isabelle Gordon was the youngest of Katherine’s ladies and the most beautiful. If she caught Henry’s eye while serving the queen, it was no surprise or fault of hers. Henry would hardly care that Isabelle Gordon’s mother was Queen Katherine’s closest friend and avoid the girl out of respect.

When had that ever stopped him before?

The young woman James was forced to marry was vain and prideful, or more aptly put, a horrid shrew on even the best day when crossed. Isabelle obviously saw something more in it for herself while at court, her covetous eye on more than being a duchess. Henry no doubt encouraged her with gifts and promised much for her to surrender her virtue.

James was no fool.

Isabelle was married off for far more than her father’s alleged treason. Henry knew very well why Sir William might employ such a plot, if there was one at all. It was quite obvious it was to further his own daughter.

But even James had to question why Sir William would engage in such petty intrigue. He began to suspect the man was innocent of all and cruelly set upon by another.

Many a noble at court were trying to further their own ends these days. They watched the king declining in health and panicked, knowing the heir to the throne, a young boy king under the guidance of Edward Seymour his uncle, would yield them nothing in the way of royal favors.

They would have seen both Isabelle and her father as a threat if they discovered she was Henry’s mistress. The recent attempt to discredit the queen and have her tried for treason, initiating many arrests for heresy and the execution of Ann Askew was likely at the root of it.

His recollection of Sir William made him unable to believe the kind, scholarly man everyone ducked during evening meals to avoid his lengthy dissertations was a true follower of witchcraft. He was a bookish man, highly learned, and more interested in those pursuits.

The man’s mistress Mary Hopewell was a widowed matron who kept to herself. She was said to be devoted to God. Her only crime was having access to the children and sharing the man’s bed. She was assumed privy to his crimes. The woman denied all, sobbing and crying as she was dragged to the Tower of London for examination.

The palace servant named in the crime also swore of his innocence. He often served Sir William on occasion while the man stayed at Hampton Court. He was marched up the scaffold to lose his head alongside the others.

It now looked as if Isabelle sharing Henry’s bed could have made her and her father a threat to those seeking to further themselves in the eyes of the king. Even a royal mistress was a danger that none could easily ignore after Henry’s disastrous marriage to Anne Boleyn years ago.

Isabelle would never admit to the liaison. Sir William was now dead. Henry would never deign to acknowledge an inappropriate relationship. And that left him forced into a loveless marriage as a means to an end for his king.

While he loved and respected Henry Tudor, James began to feel resentment these last weeks. His hearing the rumors swirling about Isabelle and the king made him seethe inwardly.

He endured the pitying looks from others with an indifferent expression after he returned to court that summer after the year-long military campaign in the south.

Henry was notorious for casting his former mistresses off upon his nobles if only to cover his indiscretions or the unfortunate presence of a child born from the liaison. Though Henry was very fond of his current wife Katherine Parr, the man indulged in multiple affairs since their marriage.

Henry dearly wanted more sons and made few bones of it when into his cups. Others around him who listened to such loose talk took him literally. They foolishly thought he meant to put aside his marriage to Katherine Parr, fuelling the intrigue further.

They doubtless saw another wife in the king’s future, unable to see that he was far too ill to summon the energy to act upon such false bravado.

Queen Katherine must have felt panic when she came under suspicion by Thomas Cramner. She had to have known she was losing her husband’s affection to insist Lady Isabelle marry and leave her service.

She no doubt suspected something happening between them, and knowing Henry’s mind in all things, saw it as self preservation by removing such a temptation.

James more than sensed there was little physical attraction between the royal couple even if there was great affection. The queen was an attractive woman but hardly the type his king often enjoyed behind her back.

Even at his advancing age and steady decline in health, Henry Tudor enjoyed many beautiful young women at court. The gossip that he might have enjoyed Isabelle made James’s lips tighten in displeasure.

To be made a cuckold was hard to swallow, but James was now trapped in the situation. He and Isabelle must now make the best of it.

Perhaps this trip to Westerleigh would prove eventful?

He smiled bitterly to think he might actually try to woo his cold wife for once if only to beget an heir while he got to the bottom of Father Creaton’s wild tales.

James thought of his mistress.

She would not be pleased when he left court so suddenly. She was strangely quiet of late, regarding him sadly, unlike her usual gay manner, even after rousing lovemaking in his bedchamber.

James knew the cause of her current melancholy, felt the pain in her bright cerulean blue eyes each time they met his. She wore her feelings upon her dress sleeve of late, reminding him of all those who watched and whispered around them.

They were careful to keep their distance from one another. He would leave nothing to chance lest they were discovered, the reason why he left court. It was for her benefit he left for a time. To allow their relationship to cool a bit to avoid anything that could endanger her present position in the queen’s chamber. The lady knew there was no future for them from the start. James never promised her anything as some men might.

While he cared for her and thought of her often in quiet contemplation, he flatly refused to call it love, to linger on it and wish for more. She was beautiful, witty, and accomplished, a credit to any man to have as a wife. She would make a fine match one day when she left the queen’s service.

Her lack of chastity would never matter at any rate, as lovely as she was. Such was divested by him many weeks ago in a moment of madness under a full moon in the gardens outside Hampton Court. It was his weakness and not hers that kept him seeking her out.

They threw all caution to the winds and now it must end. He cursed the fates that made them meet after he was already bound to Lady Isabelle. He’d not see her suffer for his folly by prolonging the inevitable end of their attachment. If discretion were not a valuable discipline needed for court life for a lady, a rough-hewn exterior of the eventual husband was also a necessary prerequisite.

James knew to leave without saying farewell to the girl would say far more than he wished to inflict upon her tender heart, despite his sudden twinge of conscience. He had no wish to hurt her further.

She would marry soon. Her dead father was obviously favored by Henry Tudor if she was kept within the royal household all of these years. She would forget their brief time, he hoped, with a depressive frown to think of her marrying someone else.

It was the way of things in their world. Even things wanted so badly by one could not be had in this situation. The promise of any future happiness between them was lost unto him, to be bestowed onto another. Forget her he would, if only to make a go of his disastrous marriage.

James rose from the chair and retreated to his bedchamber to undress for bed. He dreaded the long journey to Westerleigh on the morrow with a heavy heart, ignoring the tightening in his chest and a feeling of angst that lingered and prevailed.

Whatever they might have had could not be. He rolled over in bed and punched his pillow while sleep continually eluded. He was the pragmatist in this for once. It was for the best for all, refusing to name his flagging spirits to be leaving.

Before James drifted off to sleep, the vision of her perfect ivory face lingered in his dreams, of bright cerulean blue eyes, a saucy mouth made for kissing, and of running his fingers through her rich sable hair that felt like the softest silk.

~ ~ ~

When James awoke before dawn, a bitter taste was felt in his mouth. He roused before first light to avoid running into any members of the king’s court before he left.

Soon his servant arrived with a tray of food. He dressed and ate quickly, wanting to flee this place, if only to run from her and all that could not be.

James found his six retainers waiting for him in the royal stables, all talking amongst themselves as they made ready to leave. The brawniest of them was named Sir Edmund Sheffield, a veritable mountain of a man in both size and strength.

Edmund and the others wore heavy chain mail, armed to the teeth; prepared for anything should they come under attack on the roadside. His pale eyes met his lord’s grimly as he saddled his horse. The other five were packing their own mounts when he approached.

“Do you expect trouble when we arrive to Westerleigh, Your Grace?” Edmund had a certain glint in his eyes as he put his helmet over his blond head, eyeing the long gleaming sword hanging from James’ hip. “You think you’ll need that with me here with you?” He chuckled in amusement, shaking his head.

“I expect trouble wherever I go, Edmund,” James said jokingly and brushed off his man-at-arms concerns on what they might find at his home. “Let us be off. I wish to be out of the city before first light.”

London, England

August 14, 1846

The Duchess of Westerleigh sat stiffly upon the padded bench outside her husband’s study. She was highly conscious of the servant’s curious eyes as they went about their duties. She was not a regular visitor at the Carlisle residence. She kept her own townhouse and servants in the city. The furor her unexpected arrival caused within the household was only natural to expect.

Though the couple lived apart and had for years, none could say the Duke and Duchess of Westerleigh were ever at odds. No tidbit of gossip trickled down below stairs for the servants to speculate over the odd living arrangement. The Westerleighs had been married for five years with no children.

Lady Elizabeth Surrey was the Earl of Camden’s only daughter, coming from one of the best families in Northern England, reared at her ancestral home, Camden Downs, just south of Yorkshire.

The Countess of Camden arranged the match against the wishes of her husband. They were in dire straits financially. A rich duke for their daughter was a prospect they shouldn’t ignore. Lady Camden learned through gossip the young heir to the dukedom of Westerleigh was seeking a wife.

It was not long before she wrote to the man’s mother, inviting both to Camden Downs. Lord Robert Surrey left the decision to his daughter, saying she would have the final say in it.

Though the pair of young people did not suit one another from the start, they wed in all of the pomp and splendor their stations demanded. After a brief honeymoon in Edinburgh, the split was forever made between them.

The lady returned to open a house in London.

His Lordship returned to Carlisle Place and his old haunts.

And never did the two come in close proximity until today.

Lady Westerleigh, still in her youth at twenty-three, was lovely and accomplished; a patron of the arts and her charitable works for the poor. A rising icon within society, the young woman was highly sought out by many.

Elizabeth had many friends and was charming and gay. Her infectious smile and laughter were hard not to be drawn to. She was a regular visitor of the royal family and at the top of every guest list amongst the nobility.

His Lordship, on the other hand, was an odd, unlikable fellow, small in stature and almost effeminate in nature. Edward was aloof and quiet, prone to pettiness and brooding. His vindictive nature was often felt by the servants, who tipped about on eggshells at times to avoid his displeasure.

His Lordship preferred to live in seclusion to pursue his own private haunts. He was content to stay out of his wife’s vast shadow cast within society, never demanding anything of her. It was very much accepted the pair went their separate ways from the moment they wed.

To see Her Ladyship here today was to question why she sat in the hall outside the study like a naughty schoolgirl. She arrived at nine sharp with only a footman in attendance.

Her refusal to sit in the main salon and take tea was duly noted by Mr. Phipps. The aged butler worried her presence below stairs with the other servants. Her refusal to stay for luncheon was another source of concern for Mrs. Eggers, the Carlisle’s loyal cook for many years.

The lady sat with her back ramrod straight. The only sign of her irritation was the downward turn of her full lips as the minutes ticked by. Her audience with her husband was late by over twenty minutes, a slight that none failed to ignore.

Why the duke made her wait for him was odd, considering he was alone in the study with no great matters to attend to. Many thought it rather deliberate on his part, to make her a spectacle for all those who passed by the door.

When the door finally opened and the duke gestured for her to join him, all breathed a sigh of relief and went back to their duties to wonder at what brought the lady there that morning.

~ ~ ~

Elizabeth removed her fine leather gloves and slapped them down on the desk in irritation. She eyed her husband coolly, flicking him a look of growing displeasure.

“Could not you have said what you wished to say in a note, Edward? Why have you summoned me here? Really, I have many calls to make today.”

Edward glared at her disparaging manner, sitting down behind the desk and gesturing to the chair before him. “It’s good to see you to, my dear. You look quite well. Do sit down, Elizabeth. We have certain matters to discuss.”

“What matters might they be?” Elizabeth sat down and frowned darkly below the brim of her elegant feathered hat, her dark blue eyes filled with suspicion. “What do you want?”

Edward’s thin lips turned downward. “You will kindly soften your tone with me, madam. Remember that I am still your husband, even if you choose to forget that much of the time.”

Elizabeth bristled but remained silent, sitting and smoothing her rose-colored velvet skirts. She took a few moments to see five years had aged her husband rather badly. At only thirty-three years of age, Edward Carlisle appeared far older than his years.

With his receding blond hair and deepening lines around his pale blue eyes, he appeared more than the decade he was older than her. His weak chin was barely disguised with the sparse goatee he sported in vain to try to conceal it. His thin lips were almost non-existent and were presently pursed with displeasure.

Edward stared at her thoughtfully during her inspection. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, my lady? Anything a ‘tall before we begin this interview?”

“I would say that pea green waistcoat you’re wearing doesn’t suit you overmuch,” Elizabeth remarked in a cutting tone, her blue eyes filled with mockery. “Did your companion Mr. Ives choose it for you? What horrid taste the man has in fashion. That color makes you look positively sallow even in the best of light, Edward.”

Edward’s face flushed red. “You will kindly make no mention of Ives and what he chooses for me, my lady. We are not here to condemn his lack of taste but yours.”

She stiffened in outrage. “This is ridiculous! I’ve done nothing at all to merit your displeasure. You merely see the chance to leap upon one minor bit of gossip and blow such out of proportion to berate me. Your pettiness is well known by me, my lord.”

“I don’t think a man seen leaving your rooms at Lady Grifford’s estate last month in the wee hours of the morn as mere gossip, Elizabeth,” her husband informed her tightly as he tossed her the note he withdrew from his desk drawer. “And I don’t take kindly to being blackmailed by a servant to keep such from being known.”

Elizabeth took the note with a trembling hand, her face paling. “This is a lie! It can all be explained!”

Edward snorted derisively. “Really? Do tell, my lady. I should very much like to know why Anthony Wakefield was caught leaving your room by a servant in Lady Grifford’s employ. You’ve been very discreet in your dealings with the man, but the pair of you was seen together and often, and now this tawdry blackmail demand arrives.”

“How much did it cost you this time, Edward?” Elizabeth shrugged away his words with a bitter smile. “A few pounds perhaps? We both know this sort of thing goes with the territory.”

“It was two hundred pounds!” Edward was content to see her flinch in dismay. “I refuse to continue to allow you to blacken my family name with your unseemly conduct with your lovers. We had an agreement, did we not? This is three times you’ve nearly brought us to ruin with your irresponsible dalliances.”

“I fell and sprained my ankle at a ball that first time. Lord Merton merely carried me up to my room and saw to my care until the doctor arrived. I hardly think that counts! This is absurd, Edward, even for you! The others were all lies!”

“It counts if Merton was in your bedchamber with no chaperone, as was the case there,” Edward snapped back harshly. “Your lack of discretion cost me a hundred pounds that time. Have you no care at all for your reputation, my lady? I’m adding up the cost of your foolishness Elizabeth. It grows at an alarming rate.”

“Nothing happened with Lord Merton! He is old enough to be my father!”

Edward smiled coldly. “Such can’t be said of Lord Canfield, now can it? You were seeing him for many weeks last year, and you dined with him without a chaperone or even a servant with you. It is a miracle that didn’t erupt into a scandal before I can cut it off at the pass.”

“Lord Canfield’s sister was present,” Elizabeth said coldly, her eyes flashing. “Weathers mother was ill and Annie’s sister had her baby. I saw no harm in it. We were properly chaperoned despite what you heard.”

“And now we come to Wakefield,” Edward mused. “You spent hours in his flat, Elizabeth, just weeks before this. Do you think I don’t keep abreast of your affairs?”

Elizabeth crumpled under his accusations. “I love him! I’ll not give him up with your threats! You have Mr. Ives for comfort! Who do I have? And do you even care if I’m happy?” She ignored the bitter tears that fell to her cheeks. “You only worry my activities will but shed light upon your own!”

“We had an understanding, Elizabeth,” her husband stated crossly. “Had you but kept your end of it, I’d not be doing this to you. I think it’s time we discussed you having my heir.”

Elizabeth scoffed angrily, flinging him a look of disgust. “I don’t recall ever agreeing to your loathsome understanding of how we would accomplish an heir, my lord! That was your own delusion thinking you could choose the father for me! I will choose for myself! I refuse to allow Simon Ives or any of your other men to touch me!”

Edward’s pale blue eyes narrowed. “I thought you would say as much, my lady. So I’ve taken measures to insure you are more accommodating of Simon. You are being sent to Westerleigh at once until we arrive in the spring. I think the many months in Wales will be good for you. Reflect upon our agreement. You swore to give me an heir when the time came with a man I approved of. I don’t recall including your precise specifications. You will lay with Simon and give me my heir. I care not how long it takes to accomplish it. This is the price for your family’s honor being preserved, Elizabeth, or do you wish for all your friends to know how your beloved papa made his fortune years ago?”

“You can prove nothing,” Elizabeth whispered harshly. “You’ve held this over me for years just to gain a wife who wouldn’t give you away. You’ve no more proof of my father being a thief than you do of me bedding Lord Merton or Lord Canfield! Go ahead and tell your tales! You only bring all down about your head!”

“I am still your husband, Elizabeth,” Edward snarled under his breath, a nasty light in his eyes. “I have already prepared your household to be moved to Westerleigh as soon as tomorrow. You will take none but your maid with you. Your foolish companion Miss Weathers was sacked just this morning for failing to curtail your indecent behavior. All of your servants have been given their notice and final wages. The house is to be sold in your absence. For what you cost me this time over Wakefield, you can consider it my due, my lady.”

“I will never give you what you want, Edward,” Elizabeth said coldly and stood, snatching up her gloves. “You can send me to hell! I will never lay with Simon Ives to give you a son! I should die first!”

Edward stood as well, his chest puffed up with anger, barely taller than her by a mere inch. “You will never be allowed to return to London until you do as I ask, my lady. This is just one small price to pay. Think on it during your journey to Westerleigh. I will see you in early April. Simon will accompany me. You have several months to reconsider your stance. The castle is a lonely place to call your home, Elizabeth. Did I mention it’s rumored to be haunted?” At her paling countenance, he laughed shortly. “Do as I ask, Elizabeth. We need never trouble ourselves with one another again. Isn’t that what you want? Or do you fear Wakefield’s affections won’t last?”

“Anthony loves me!” Elizabeth stepped backward, her eyes narrowed in disgust. “If I told him what you demand of me, he would kill you!”

“Come now, Wakefield can do no more than pander after your skirts like a lovesick puppy,” Edward stated coldly. “He has nothing to offer you, Elizabeth. Is he not the third son of a Viscount with a pittance of an inheritance? I would worry more for his future, my dear. I have heard some interesting things.”

Elizabeth’s fists bunched at her sides. “What things are those? You merely belittle him because he wasn’t born with a title. Anthony is more of a man than you could ever hope to be!”

Edward smiled tightly, the only indication her words struck home, his white-knuckled grip on the desk’s edge. “His mother found him an heiress from America, Elizabeth. He must marry well, don’t you agree? One word from me and he won’t be received in polite society. What would become of him then? I don’t see his family approving of your illicit relationship. What of the heiress when she learns of it? Don’t push me to see how difficult I can be to attain what I want.”

“How could you be so cruel?” Elizabeth stared at her husband, face paling. “Anthony has done nothing at all to you! And you lie! He is not engaged to be married! He would have told me so himself!”

Edward chuckled at her furious expression. “Ask him, my lady. He is to dine at Lady Merriman’s this evening in the company of the girl’s father who is visiting from Boston. He’s some wealthy banker. They are still negotiating the match. It is all very true. I made it my business to find out for your sake, though you don’t appear to appreciate it. Wakefield has deceived you most disgracefully. This man you claim to love merely uses you for a time until he finds a rich wife.”