A Scandalous Secret (22 page)

‘Very true!’ Dorinda cried, catching her intention and eagerly contributing her mite. ‘It is so sad. Either Gwendolyn must be unhappy without Lord Maples, or Mr Markham must be made a laughing-stock. After all, Mr Markham is a mere merchant. It is wonderful that he should attach a girl of such breeding at all. It will hardly happen a second time.’

Elizabeth bit her lip, while Dorinda was forced to cover her mouth with her hand in order to control her growing mirth.

‘I am sure Mr Markham has nothing to worry about,’ Elizabeth said, affecting indifference. ‘Even if Oswald returns her regard, no doubt Gwendolyn knows her duty too well to do anything rash.’

‘You doubt the viscount’s powers of persuasion?’ Alastair asked pointedly.

‘He has
great
address,’ Dorinda mused. ‘His conquests in London are legion, I believe.’

‘His abilities with the fair sex are grossly exaggerated.’ Elizabeth dismissed them with crushing contempt.

‘I think we had best say no more of this,’ Alastair asserted piously. ‘It is really not the thing to be prattling about our guest behind his back.’

‘How horrid of you, Alastair, to spoil our fun!’ Dorinda teased - perhaps the most honest remark she had yet made.

A moment later, Oswald made his entrance - the picture of polite disinterest. Throughout the remainder of the evening, he behaved perfectly normally. Yet there was a little smile at the corners of his mouth which he did not seem able to suppress. Elizabeth had no doubt that he had heard pretty much the whole of their vivacious performance.

Chapter 15

The following morning, Lord Maples made his way to Rosedale Manor before anyone else at Merrywood had risen, excepting only the servants. He returned as merry as a grig, whistling an air as he entered the hallway.

Dorinda was convinced that he had gone a-courting Gwendolyn. If she expected an elopement to ensue, however, she was disappointed. Oswald certainly visited the Thornwoods frequently, but no clandestine meetings were reported, and nothing untoward had been discerned in the behaviour of either party. Dorinda grew more nervous and fretful, and Elizabeth abandoned any hope she might have allowed herself to nurture in secret.

On Saturday, Sir Alastair and Lady Barrowe gave a card party at which Miss Thornwood was present. Lord Maples behaved with perfect propriety towards the young lady. He singled her out for conversation, but their low-toned remarks could not be overheard, as much as Dorinda tried. Yet her faith remained unshaken.

‘We are very near to a denouement,’ she declared to her sister, after a brief conversation with Miss Thornwood. ‘I begged Gwendolyn to be on her guard where Lord Maples is concerned, and she became quite flustered and muttered something which I
could not quite catch. It sounded like, “I do not know what is to be done, Lady Barrowe.” I heard no more, for we were interrupted by her mama.’

‘Or she may have said that “the beef at supper was overdone, Lady Barrow”.’ Elizabeth refused to be persuaded.

Now that she had already made known to everyone her intention of quitting the neighbourhood within a week, Elizabeth thought it best not to alter her plans. Besides, she had promised Dominick that she would be gone before he returned.

‘But you cannot give up now, Lizzy,’ Dorinda remonstrated.

‘We must all accept the inevitable, I fear, and not indulge in daydreams.’ Elizabeth looked down at her hands rather than contemplate the distress which she knew would be visible on her sister’s face. ‘You have made a valiant effort on my behalf, Dorrie, and have nothing for which to reproach yourself.’

* * * *

It was a tearful farewell to Merrywood. Elizabeth could never come back here with the same sense of peace and joy she had known heretofore. She must in future arrange her visits carefully, to coincide with Dominick’s absence.

As they prepared to enter the carriage, Selina began to cry. Dorinda was scarcely much better. Alastair gave her a look of sympathy and a bracing handshake, and even Oswald was less provoking than usual.

She was saying goodbye not only to her relatives, but also to the dreams of her youth. It would have been strange indeed had she not cast, as the poet said, ‘one longing, lingering look behind’.

Merrywood receded from sight. They were making rapid progress, but there were other vistas to stir painful memories in her breast. Lammerton Hall was soon past, then Wiltshire itself. She was particularly affected when they drove by The Lamb and Lion Inn at Upper Tredleigh. She should have given instructions to
her coachman beforehand, so he would take a different road.

She could not forget. Nor did she want to, she realized after some self-examination. She had known love - real love - however briefly. Her son was a living memorial to that fact. Such a love could never be entirely lost, never wasted. Even in the midst of her sorrow, her heart told her that her life was richer for having known and loved Dominick Markham.

It was two more days before the stark, forbidding silhouette of Dansmere Castle rose up before them. Elizabeth could smell the peculiar tang of the salt air as they neared the Dorset coast.

‘Now we are home, Mama,’ Nicky said with a sigh. But this was no joyous homecoming for either of them. It was a bitter exile from the man whose name they had not yet dared to mention.

* * * *

Dominick Markham made his way back from town at a sluggish pace. The one face he most wanted to behold would no longer be there. And his son, who now occupied a special niche in his heart, would be gone.

No matter how much he dawdled and delayed, however, he reached his destination in the end. The square, solid Norman tower of the old village church came into view above the cluster of thatched and slated roofs. He wished that he could just ride on and never draw rein until he came to Land’s End. There, he might board some nameless ship and sail away into a sea of forgetfulness. But no such mythic ocean existed, except in his blue-devilled brain.

When he entered Rosewood Manor that evening, Gwendolyn seemed more shy and reserved than was customary, but perfectly cordial nonetheless. She had not much to say concerning her bridal preparations, even urging her mama at one point not to plague him with descriptions of the proposed festivities.

He was then surprised by the arrival of another guest: Lord
Maples. Dominick had thought that, once Lady Dansmere left, Oswald would lose no time in following her. However, here he was, seemingly very well pleased with himself and his company.

The Thornwoods treated the viscount almost as one of the family. Oswald was so excessively agreeable that Dominick was at a loss to explain his sudden change of behaviour. He would have thought that the Thornwoods were just the sort of bumpkins whom Lord Maples would normally have considered beneath his touch.

The next day brought another surprise. Rising a little later than usual, Dominick was startled to be told that Miss Thornwood awaited him below stairs. Lord! Her feelings for him must be stronger than he had supposed, poor child, if she could not even wait until a decent hour of the day to see him. With some reluctance he got himself washed, dressed and looking reasonably presentable before going down to meet her.

When he entered the fashionably decorated apartment, he found her wringing her hands and muttering to herself. She looked at him as though she were facing her executioner.

‘Good morning, Gwendolyn, my dear,’ he offered, hoping that this conventional opening might restore her calm.

‘Mr Markham - sir—’ she began rather disjointedly. And then, to his consternation, she collapsed on to a nearby chair and wept copiously into a dainty linen handkerchief.

‘Whatever is the matter, my poor child?’ He would have put his arm around her, but she drew back so precipitately that she dropped the handkerchief and nearly fell off her chair.

‘You must not!’ She jumped to her feet. ‘Oh! It is so dreadful.’

He could do nothing but stare at her, more puzzled than ever, while she faced him with patent trepidation, crushing her reticule in her hands as she spoke.

‘What is the meaning of this, Miss Thornwood?’ he asked, more
severely than he had intended.

‘Mr Markham,’ - she gulped inelegantly - ‘I cannot marry you.’

For the first time in their acquaintance, he felt as if he truly wanted to kiss her. She had just uttered the most beautiful words he had ever heard.

‘You
cannot?’
He wondered whether he had heard her correctly.

‘My heart,’ she announced dramatically, ‘belongs to another.’

‘Another?’ he repeated, quite bemused. ‘To whom?’

‘Lord Maples.’

This simple pronouncement was almost enough to deprive him of his senses. Was it possible? Could it be true? Yet why would Gwendolyn enact such a scene if it were not so? If Oswald had been present at that moment, Dominick might well have kissed
him.
The man was a saint! How could he ever have disliked him?

‘And does Lord Maples return your regard?’ he asked, hope swelling within his breast.

‘Yes,’ she stated, with absolute confidence. ‘He has already asked me to wed him.’

Dominick readily and most generously overlooked the viscount’s distinctly odd conduct in asking a betrothed woman to be his wife: eccentric, perhaps, but not unpardonable. He only wished that Oswald had not been so tardy in pressing his suit.

‘I know that your heart is broken,’ Gwendolyn said, in piteous accents.

‘What?’

She looked at him suspiciously. ‘It
is
broken, is it not?’

‘Oh, undoubtedly,’ he hastened to reassure her, belatedly recognizing the part he was expected to play in this melodrama. The minx was having the time of her life! ‘My hopes are dashed. My peace is quite cut up.’

‘I know that I have behaved abominably,’ she said, with just the
appropriate shade of melancholy repentance. ‘Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?’

‘Do you truly believe that you will be happy with Lord Maples?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she answered. Then, with a naive pride which almost destroyed his serious demeanor, ‘I shall be a viscountess, you know.’

‘In that case, there is no more to be said,’ he replied. He tried to give the impression of a broken man bearing up under the intolerable weight of his sorrow. ‘You must follow the dictates of your heart, my dear. And I promise you that I will never reproach you, nor will I ever allow anyone else to do so in my presence. Who, after all, could impugn such beauty? Who could besmirch so noble a nature?’

This speech, which could well have buttered a year’s supply of bread, was received favourably by the lady. She would not allow the matter to be quite so easily settled, however. For a full quarter of an hour she continued to express her everlasting remorse for having ruined his life, imploring him not to contemplate any rash actions. After exhausting every possible commonplace expression appropriate to the occasion, she at last took herself off.

Dominick could barely contain himself. He somehow managed to suppress his true emotions until she had set off for Rosedale Manor. When she was safely out of sight of his last mock-mournful wave, he dashed back into the house, almost colliding with his aunt at the foot of the stairs.

‘Good gracious, Dominick!’ she exclaimed, clutching at the newel post for support. ‘What in the world has happened to you?’

‘The most wonderful thing in the world, Aunt!’ he cried. Lifting her quite off her feet, he spun her around in inexpressible joy. ‘I have been jilted!’

‘But Dominick—’ Aunt Winnie began.

‘I have no time to talk now,’ he said, mounting the stairs two at
a time. ‘I must be off at once.’

‘Where on earth are you going?’

To London, Aunt Winnie!’ He disappeared down the upstairs hall. To London!’

Chapter 16

Elizabeth was finding it even more difficult than she had imagined to free her mind from thoughts of Dominick. She had never been someone who was afraid of solitude; neither did she feel the modern necessity of continued distraction from chronic ennui. Reading and music were pleasures which she could enjoy alone, and she had often filled the quiet hours with the lofty thoughts or glorious harmonies of the past.

But now she was unusually restless and discontented. Nothing seemed to help. She was ever conscious of something missing, some portion of her life which remained unsatisfied.

Her son brought her joy, as always, but never did she see him without a hint of wistfulness. In his boyish face she could not help but trace the beloved features of his father. The mere fact of seeing her maid, Janet, with James, who had been married to her for four years now, was disturbing. It reminded Elizabeth that even humble servants might possess something of inestimable value which for her would remain unattainable.

She spent much of her time visiting the poor of the parish - particularly the foundling home which her own money had helped to build and which was one of her most cherished schemes. She had always loved children, and made sure that these ones were
well fed and clothed, received at least a rudimentary education, and were treated with the tenderness and care due to their innocence.

Nicky often accompanied her on her inspections, for she did not want him to be ignorant of the suffering of those less fortunate than themselves, nor of his duty towards them. Compassion was rare enough among members of the
haut ton.
Nicky, at least, should have a conscience.

Returning from one of these visits on a sunny afternoon, they were both surprised to see a handsome new curricle drawn up before the castle entrance. Nicky was so agog with curiosity that, as soon as they came to a halt, he would have leaped from the carriage, had she not restrained him.

She was conscious of a feeling of apprehension as they prepared to enter the house. At the door, they were met by Mortimer, the butler, who informed them that two gentlemen awaited them in the ante-room. Going towards this apartment, Nicky was a few steps ahead, and consequently it was he who proclaimed the identity of one of their visitors before Elizabeth had yet seen either.