The Reluctant Bride (20 page)

‘For months we cohabited. She cooked my food, tended to my needs as a good wife would. But I never loved her and I hated the burden of guilt she'd forced upon me. It was a blessed relief when I could finally tell Jessamine I was returning to England but that I was unable to take her with me for I had not the means to keep a woman. I insinuated she was beautiful, there were others who would gladly take her on, look after her. I insulted her. She was not like that. She had
married
the soldier I killed. She was not a common doxy.'

Emily placed her palms on his chest and tilted up her face. The sympathy of her expression made his heart clutch.

‘You were in an impossible position, Angus. You can't blame yourself for not feeling as she'd have wished you to feel.'

As he rested against the gate post, holding Emily lightly, his burden grew heavier. Her sympathy was ill-placed and soon she'd know it. ‘I was young and ignorant.' He glanced at his wife. She knew all about
that
. ‘With no sisters I could not comprehend the helplessness to which I was consigning her, so when Jessamine told me she was carrying my child—' He stopped at Emily's gasp. Was there any point in going on?
Could
he? He felt unutterably weary but he had not told her the worst of it, so when she filled the silence, her eyes dark with sympathy, saying, ‘So that's why she hanged herself—?' he shook his head.

‘She didn't hang herself.' Moistening dry lips, he said softly, ‘I killed the joy in her when I shot her husband but I killed all hope when I told her that having my child did not alter my resolve to leave her.'

Emily's voice was a whisper. ‘So that's why you married me? I was a desperate woman and finally you could offer me and my child a future? To atone for Jessamine?'

He toyed with his signet ring. It wasn't so simple. He did not deserve the forgiveness she seemed prepared to allow him. He forced himself to continue, to relive that fateful last conversation.

‘After I told Jessamine I was leaving her, she cooked my food as usual, sat down at the table, and then reminded me she was carrying my child. Would I still leave her?' Angus focused his gaze over Emily's shoulder. ‘The look in Jessamine's eye was a challenge to my honour and decency. I did not reply. I took my coat and hat and left to go to the officers' mess where I proceeded to drink a great deal.'

Emily waited.

‘When I returned she was still sitting at her place at the table. I thought she'd not moved.' He could picture it still; the tragedy in her luminous eyes which pierced his soul. ‘I hated her for putting me in such a position. For her misery which sucked the happiness out of me. She looked up as I came through the door and asked if I'd changed my mind.' Raising a hand to his brow, Angus remembered the flint in her eyes as she'd repeated her question.

He clenched his fists as he went on. ‘I said my resolve was unaltered but that I would find the funds to support her and the child. She didn't speak but I turned when I noticed that she reached into the pocket of her skirts. I saw her put something in her mouth. I was suspicious and asked her what she'd done.'

Carefully Angus levelled his eyes upon his wife's, anticipating the horror which reflected his own. But he could read nothing.

‘Jessamine told me she'd sold the pistol I used to shoot her husband in return for poison which one of the infantrymen kept in a vial around his neck in case he fell into enemy hands.' He closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring at his last memory of her. ‘She said that as
she
had fallen into enemy hands she needed a way out of her torment, too. Then the poison began to act. I did what I could but it was quick,' he muttered, ‘though not quick enough for what she suffered.'

Emily turned her footsteps back towards the house while Angus nodded farewell before riding in the opposite direction. She had said what she could but her words were not enough. It was true, she was deeply shocked, but greater was her dismay on Angus's behalf. He was still haunted; she could see that by his retelling of those terrible events.

Angus blamed himself for killing Jessamine's husband, for killing Jessamine's hopes and for Jessamine's death.

She tried to reason out what else he might be feeling.

Did he want to kill Emily's good opinion of him because last night, when she came to him, he could not accept the joy of finally seeing his own hopes of love realised?

Or had his memories of Jessamine rekindled disgust and suspicion that Emily might be trading on the only means at her disposal for his continued protection? That when she offered him her body she was doing so in base imitation of Jessamine and with no love in her heart?

There was no way of knowing.

Angus probably did not know it himself.

All Emily could do now was to prove that she loved her husband.

When she entered her room after her walk the first thing Emily saw were the letters – Jack's and hers – in their usual position. For months they'd sat neatly stacked in the corner of her escritoire, a testament to the lie on which she'd based what was supposedly the most wonderful thing in her life.

With a cry of rage she seized them, casting the bundle into the fireplace with all the force she could muster.

But the fire was not hot enough and the parchment did not catch. If ever she needed a reprieve, an opportunity to act upon second thoughts it was now, but she was resolved. She picked up the bundle of her letters to Jack, untied the ribbon, and letter by letter, began feeding them into the fire.

When the dinner gong went she was part way through dealing with her past and ready for luncheon and a new beginning.

Unfortunately over luncheon she encountered another impediment to carrying through her determination to prove to Angus that she loved him with a pure heart.

For over the mock turtle soup Angus told her that Major Woodhouse required his services for the culmination of the important mission on which he'd been engaged. He would leave the following morning.

Caroline's visit within an hour of Angus's departure was ostensibly to finalise details for Emily's much-delayed entry into society, but Emily was certain there was a good deal of curiosity regarding her marital relations, also.

A cool autumn breeze stirred up the leaves on the gravel walk as the two women walked, arm in arm, about the rose bushes and Emily told her sister-in-law that Angus was in Dover, awaiting this afternoon's packet.

‘Of course, he told me nothing that would compromise my safety,' Emily said, smiling despite the irony in her tone, ‘but he's told me enough to satisfy me.'

Caroline squeezed her arm and commented with a question in her tone, ‘You seem happier, Emily.'

Emily had obliquely intimated to Caroline that she and Angus had made their peace, yet despite the more gentle union that had resulted in the bedroom last night, a sense of disquiet lingered. Not that she'd admit that to Caroline. Instead she said with quiet force, ‘Angus has all the qualities of a fine soldier and has been a good husband.'

‘
Has
been?'

Emily smiled. ‘And no doubt will continue to be,' she amended for Caroline's benefit, wishing her sister-in-law was not quite so perspicacious when she asked, ‘But that still is not enough for you, Emily?'

‘Oh, I am perfectly satisfied.' Emily made sure there could be no doubting her sincerity. ‘Over the past couple of days you might say the scales have fallen from my eyes. I've been in ignorance about a great many things which have now been made clear.'

‘That is good.' The way Caroline said it made Emily wonder if her sister-in-law knew the truth about Jack before Emily did. ‘I hope that when Angus returns it will be for a long time. The two of you can then begin to forge a future filled with children and happiness, as Jonathan and I have done. Emily, what is it?'

Emily heard the nervousness in her own laugh. ‘I will not betray secrets but suffice to say that Angus is on his way to lodge where Jack used to stay. I worry about his safety for it is a dangerous mission.'

‘Napoleon has suffered important losses recently,' Caroline remarked. ‘It's thanks to heroes like your husband that we can look forward to the cessation of so many years of hostilities. And for hopefully soon ending the blockade that's pushed up prices and caused so much hardship.'

Emily nodded. She was in accord but her concerns were more personal. ‘Apparently the daughter of the house bears a great resemblance to me.'

Caroline raised an eyebrow. ‘You doubt Angus's constancy when he keeps company with another great beauty?'

Emily frowned, puzzling it out as she spoke. ‘I can't put my finger on it. It's not that I doubt Angus's constancy, yet I gather this young woman is part of the operation in which Angus is involved and in which Jack also took part.'

‘Angus told you all that?'

Emily's smile broadened. ‘I had to know if I were to understand certain matters … about the past. Yet all I really know about the future is that Angus is in Dover awaiting passage to France and that the next few days brings the culmination of some very dangerous operation. That alone fills me with dismay, but so does the knowledge that a certain incomparable and thoroughly deceitful Mademoiselle Delon is up to her neck in it, too.' She looked squarely at Caroline. ‘Jack had told me she was a child, but Angus says she's a beautiful young woman about a year or two younger than me. It's not Angus I mistrust … it's Mademoiselle Delon,' she said and was cross to receive a blithe laugh in return.

‘You don't understand,' Emily said, twisting the ends of her shawl. ‘This young woman – Madeleine, her name is – was Jack's …'

Burning, she turned her face away. She couldn't finish. How could she possibly admit such a thing to Caroline? Fortunately she was saved further embarrassment when Caroline gripped her elbow, saying with great wisdom and revealing clearly that she knew the truth long before Emily, ‘My poor Emily! What a disconcerting discovery to make at such a time.'

‘I've made a lot of disconcerting discoveries over the past few days.' Emily was not about to reveal them all, but she was glad of Caroline's understanding.

At the top of the hill by the rotunda they stopped to gaze at Wildwood, beautiful and gracious in the distance.

‘I have almost everything I could want.' Emily tried to sound satisfied and hoped Caroline wouldn't pounce on her for the wistfulness in her own voice.

‘Indeed you do,' Caroline said firmly. ‘A beautiful home and a husband who loves you.'

Emily clamped down on her trembling lip and whispered, ‘Perhaps, Caroline, but he doubts me. He doubts that I feel as I tell him I do. Because he saw them in black and white, I suppose. They were in a letter I wrote to my aunt. A draft I should have thrown away.
Many
drafts.' Miserably she looked at her feet. ‘In effect I decried everything Angus is: sober, serious, considered, saying I wanted someone like Jack who was spontaneous and carefree.' She searched Caroline's face. ‘Yet now I am quite changed. Jack betrayed me and I am in love with Angus's sober, serious, considered nature. I can't tell you what pleasure it brings me here'—she touched her heart—‘when he bestows upon me one of his unexpected, illuminating smiles, or when he laughs. It's like I've truly earned it and it thrills me, whereas Jack laughed at everything. He was never serious and … he never meant what he said.'

‘No doubt Angus's mind is occupied with what he must do. When he returns you can concentrate on building your future together.' Raising one eyebrow, she added, ‘Just as long as you don't doubt
Angus's
constancy with regard to this other woman.'

Emily shook her head.

‘I'm glad to hear it.' Caroline smiled. ‘Then short of buckling a sword and scabbard around your hips and chasing Angus to France, you'll have to be satisfied with the conventional approach.' She encompassed the flowing garden and distant house with a sweep of her arm. ‘Be patient, Emily, and accept what every woman must. This is our arena and this is where we must prove ourselves.'

Caroline's good sense made Emily feel infinitely better.

When her sister-in-law had departed in her carriage with an invitation to afternoon tea the following evening, Emily went indoors to change.

Disconsolately she mentally went through her wardrobe, wishing Angus would be at dinner so she had some reason to make an effort.

‘What shall I lay out for you, ma'am?' As if reading her thoughts, Sukey looked up from rearranging the items on Emily's dressing table.

Emily sighed. ‘The master isn't here so—'

She was surprised when Sukey cut in, saying, cheerily, ‘My auntie told me that when her husband was away fighting the war and her spirits were poorly she used to put on her grandest gown.' Sukey turned to Emily's wardrobe and started going through the options. ‘She said the funny thing was she never dressed fancy for him when he were home, only it just made her feel better.'

Emily laughed. ‘I suppose if it worked for your auntie, I could try it. Go on, Sukey, lay out my best gown and I'll pretend to have a house full of illustrious visitors to entertain in great style even though we're being country bumpkins tonight and dining before five.'

Sukey was a cheerful girl and delighted to be responsible for raising the mistress's spirits.

‘Oh, my goodness, won't I look grand for dining alone?' Emily laughed when she saw the low-necked blue silk gown her maid had laid out. ‘And the diamonds?' She picked up the necklace of glittering stones which Sukey had rushed to retrieve from their hiding place beneath a floorboard in Emily's dressing room.

‘The diamonds are the only jewels that will set off your gown, ma'am,' she declared firmly, helping Emily to dress.

Obediently Emily raised her arms and Sukey slipped the dark blue sheath of silk over her underdress of silver net. It slithered to just below the knee, beneath which the silver net fell in scallops to her ankles. These were bound with matching silver laces to set off her slippers.

‘Oh ma'am, you don't look half beautiful,' Sukey breathed. ‘I bet the master can't wait to come back. 'Ere, let me just attend to this curl.' She rearranged Emily's hair which was threaded through with a pearl-encrusted silver cord.

When she'd finished she stood back, shaking her head. ‘What a picture,' she declared, and Emily smiled at the reverence in her tone as the girl added, ‘If only the master were here.'

This was a sentiment Emily silently echoed when Major Woodhouse was announced.

‘At this hour?' she stared at Wallace as she put down her knife and fork having just finished her Dover sole.

‘Yes, ma'am.' His tone indicated that he shared her disapproval.

Then she remembered that Angus had recently visited the major for a briefing before travelling to France and her heart gave a little lurch. Perhaps Angus had charged him with a message for her before he left. Or perhaps Angus was returning and the major was giving her advance notice of the fact.

‘Thank you, Wallace, I'll see him in the drawing room.'

Quickly she attended to her appearance in the long mirror above the sideboard, not because she wished to impress Major Woodhouse but because he seemed always to find her wanting and the least she could do to ameliorate this, the better. At least he'd find no fault with her attire, considering the lengths to which she – or rather, Sukey – had gone to ensure she looked as fine as possible.

‘You look well this evening, Mrs McCartney.'

It was as close to a compliment as Emily was ever likely to receive from the major. She glanced down at the diamonds Angus had given her and managed to sound more enthusiastic at playing hostess to the major than she felt.

‘Thank you, Major. Would you care to take a seat and tell me what this is about? I trust Angus is well.' No point in dancing around the niceties. The major was a straight talking man who no doubt had as much desire to call upon Emily as she did in entertaining him.

When he did not immediately respond after settling himself into an elegant wing-back armchair, she repeated with a stab of real fear, ‘Angus
is
well, isn't he?'

Major Woodhouse gave what no doubt was supposed to pass for an apologetic smile. ‘Forgive me, Mrs McCartney, yes, he is well. I was simply surprised to see you were expecting guests.'

She supposed it natural that her grand rig-out would lead him to think such a thing. ‘I was dressing to lift my spirits since my husband is to be away for some time, Major.'

He quirked an eyebrow. ‘I'm sorry your spirits are so cast down by your husband's absence. I'm also glad you're not expecting anyone, Mrs McCartney.' Nevertheless, he looked sceptical, as if he expected some lover to be lurking in a cupboard. ‘What we need to discuss may take a while. First, though, my apologies for calling at such an unfashionable hour.'

Absently, she nodded, troubled by his tone.

When he asked with no warning, ‘What do you know about Madeleine Delon?' she drew in her breath quickly and clutched at the diamonds round her neck. The question was like an unexpected lancing.

‘Nothing, Major Woodhouse,' she whispered, which was, for the most part, true.

‘Come on, Mrs McCartney,' he prompted, almost cajoling, though there was a menacing gleam in his eye, she noted. ‘Clearly the name struck a chord and as we're talking about your husband's safety I'd hoped you'd be a little more forthcoming.'

‘My husband's safety!' she gasped.

She felt like slapping him when he chuckled. ‘I'm glad you are so concerned about your husband's safety. I'd suggest the more you tell me about what you know, the better the outcome will be for everyone, not least you, Mrs McCartney.'

Was she understanding him correctly? Was there a veiled threat here? An insinuation that she was lacking in her loyalties? To Angus?

‘Madeleine Delon,' he repeated. ‘Tell me what you know about her.'

With a shaking hand Emily pulled on the bell rope. ‘Wallace, please will you fetch the major a drink. Brandy? Yes, brandy, thank you. And a glass of Madeira for me.'

She needed to remind herself that she was hostess and that everything was going to be all right.

Only when she'd taken a sip of her wine did she answer the major's question. ‘I believe you are asking me to confirm what I suspect you've known for some time, Major. Madeleine Delon was my former fiancé's mistress. Do you wish to humiliate me further?'

‘I have no wish to humiliate you, Mrs McCartney.' Smiling, the major toyed with his drink. There was a calculated gleam in the boyish green eyes. The look of a child who is relishing the anticipation of revealing his brother's truancy or some other misdemeanour to a parent.

‘I am sorry for Jack Noble's disloyalty to you, but it is in fact his disloyalty to something far more important that concerns us. We hoped you might be able to help.'

‘Me?' Again she gasped and he leaned forward, his smile falsely reassuring.
Dear God, he honestly thought she had something to hide.

‘I'd appreciate it if you cast your mind back to conversations shared with Jack Noble or your husband pertaining to their work in France and Switzerland.'

Jack and Angus? Their work was secret. She was supposed to know nothing and certainly Angus had told her very little.

Emily looked squarely at Major Woodhouse. He had never liked her. No, that was not true. He had admired her like the rest when she had been Jack's intended. Since she'd incautiously criticised Angus he'd clearly lost all respect for her.

The sight of his impatient toe-tapping, signalling his impatience, riled her. He had no idea to what extent she'd been made a confidante and she'd rather keep him guessing. For once she held a modicum of power. He was testing her. Angus wasn't in danger.