Amberley Chronicles Boxset I: The Impostor Debutante My Last Marchioness the Sister Quest (Amberley Chronicles Boxsets Book 1) (32 page)

Chapter 27

Minerva’s return was greeted with joy by adults and children alike. The three nannies converged upon Mme Fourrier and little Monique and bore them away to the nursery, followed by the fascinated twins and Verena. The children were eager to inspect their tiny new playmate. Celia followed the nursery crowd, foreseeing that her fluent French might prove useful, and curious to learn more about the nurse’s long journey.

Charlotte, who had been in the orchard, embraced Minerva as soon as she reached her side. “How relieved I am to see you return safe and sound, with the child, too! Though I should not have allowed you to travel without me, because Jennifer has told us the most ridiculous story about rumours… she is taking a nap after lunch, you will see her presently.”

“Yes, I found out about that.” Minerva grimaced. “Now that I am back in the country, I find it difficult to care what a lot of jealous gossips might be saying about me – a tissue of lies, spun by the very people who pretended friendship and flattered me only weeks ago. Frankly, I do not care if I ever see any of them again.”

“You sound much calmer about it than Rook, when he first learned of this gossip.” Charlotte linked her arm with her sister-in-law’s and led her to her private sitting-room. “He left this morning, to try and undo the damage.”

“We met on the road, and had a short talk. I’m glad he is going home. His father is worried about him. The duke came to call on me, and seemed relieved to hear that the rumours were untrue. I confess I am not sorry he will never be my father-in-law.”

“You are quite determined on that?”

“Oh, yes,” Minerva said with a broad smile. Now that they were indoors, Minerva began to undo the knots of her travelling hat. “I want a man who offers me his whole devotion. Could you see Rook ever doing that?”

“Stranger things have happened, when a man supposedly immune to the finer feelings suddenly falls in love. That you knew each other since childhood made it unlikely to happen with you two.”

“Well, let’s not talk any more about this tedious subject. How soon do you expect Alphonse and James to return? If they went all the way to the Loire Valley, as I must suppose, then it may be days yet before we see them again.”

“Yes, and I wish now that I had cancelled or postponed the ball after all. Those commissions in town were not worth exposing you to additional gossip.”

“Remember that I would not have found Mme Fourrier and Alphonse’s child had I remained in Sussex. Only imagine – his staff could not understand her French, and threw the poor woman bodily from his apartments! She must have felt desperate, judging by her total exhaustion when I finally met her the day after. Her money had also run out.”

“What did she do, not knowing any English? I confess I would have been at
point non-plus
in such a situation, myself.”

“She is a very resourceful woman, admirable in her way. She went to the French Embassy and convinced one of the Ambassador’s staff to help her locate the Marquis.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened. “It’s a miracle they paid her any attention. Surely that is not what Embassies are there for. My impression of diplomats is very different. They exist in a rarefied sphere of politics and intrigue, and would consider it beneath their dignity to help any ordinary mortal.”

“The Chevalier I met is just like that, but Alphonse’s name and title caught his attention. A very smooth and intelligent young man.”

“I am sure Alphonse will express his gratitude in person as soon as he returns. He must still be tormented by anxiety for his child, even as we have her safe here in the nursery. I wish there was a way to let him know right away.”

“I wrote to him and James from London, but it seems unlikely the letter will catch up with them before they return.” Minerva placed her hat on an empty chair. It felt good to have its weight off her head. “I would not mind some tea and scones. We drove through without pausing for lunch, since I was anxious to deliver the child as soon as possible.”

Charlotte immediately rang the bell, and ordered tea as well as a tray of food.

Minerva pulled the hand-written lists out of her pocket, and handed them to Charlotte. “I have crossed off everything that was accomplished. The items you ordered will be arriving tonight on a cart, with a footman who can stay to help out during the ball, and take everything back afterwards. Bert is one of Amberley’s best men.”

“Good.” Charlotte ran her eyes down the list. “Here is a new line in your writing. ‘Correspondence’ – marked off, and another, ‘Letter for Sir Mortimer’?

“Ah yes, my thanks for the reminder. Mr. Beecham has news about Miss Conway’s father, who is making a nuisance of himself. He entrusted a letter to me.”

“You have been very busy indeed.”

“Yes, you might say that. But it is better to be busy than idle, I find.”

The food soon arrived. Between mouthfuls, Minerva gave Charlotte a blow-by-blow account of her short trip.

Some forty minutes into their talk, a soft knock on the door interrupted their conversation. It proved to be Celia. “Are you having a confidential coze? In that case, I can return later. But I learned some facts from Mme Fourrier that will interest you also, I think.”

“Please come and join us,” Charlotte invited. “Here, have some tea, though it is getting cold. I had better ring for more.”

“No, tepid will do on such a warm day.” Celia perched on the rim of an oversized armchair. She accepted a cup from Charlotte, without sugar, as she liked it.

“You had no trouble understanding the French nurse? Most of what she says is too fast for me,” Minerva said. “Did she tell you why she left in the first place?”

“Yes, though it seems hard to credit. Apparently there was a house party with many noble guests. One of them, a relative of the child through her late mother, repeatedly came to the nursery, by himself. Mme Fourrier took it into her head that he might intend to harm Monique.”

“Her own relative? Surely not,” Minerva protested.

“Remember that none of us knows anything about the man, or his possible motives,” Charlotte cautioned. “Relatives are not always well-intentioned.”

“Indeed,” Celia said. “I am inclined to believe her. Mme Fourrier does not strike me as at all fanciful, and is a shrewd judge of character. To her disgust the Marquise did not take her fears at all seriously, so when a letter from the master arrived, addressed to her personally, and with a bank draft, she took it as a sign of providence that she was to save the child by bringing her to her father.”

“She was taking a great deal upon herself, to leave without informing the Marquise,” Charlotte observed critically. “Alphonse will be furious.”

“She said she left a letter explaining where she was going, and why.”

“And she came all this way, by herself, with the infant? How did she manage on the English side of the Channel, without speaking our language?”

“The greater problem was that the draft proved insufficient to pay for the whole trip. This was only borne in on her when she was already well on the way, she claims. Fortunately Monique carried a gold cross around her neck, set with small but perfect rubies; a gift from a maternal aunt that the nurse had never liked. According to her, it was too heavy and sharp-edged for such a tiny baby, and the chain too long for safety. Despite her protests, the Marquise had ordered that the child was to wear it all the time, as the cross had been blessed by the bishop of Rouen and supposedly helped fend off ill health. To prevent its being stolen, Mme Fourrier took it off the child’s neck once they had left home.”

Minerva grinned. “The nurse did not believe in this wondrous Papist artifact?”

“I gather she did not, because she sold the jewel in Calais. She also took care to enquire from passengers coming in the opposite direction, what was the best and most economical way to go to London from Dover, how much to pay, and how much our strange English coins were worth. She even got one of them to write on a sheet of paper, what she required and where she wanted to go. Armed with this knowledge, she quickly found transport in Dover and came straight up to London, with one stop on the way.”

“She sounds frighteningly resourceful,” Charlotte observed, as she snagged and ate a cherry Minerva had overlooked in its bowl. “Yet she took a tremendous risk. If the child is as sickly as Alphonse has told us, and had died on the way, the nurse might well have ended up in prison or even on the gallows.”

“She may yet, if it is left to the old Marquise, from what she told me,” Celia said. “It is clear they did not get on. And the jewelled cross was not hers to sell.”

“Alphonse is not likely to make a great fuss about a bauble.” Charlotte tried to imagine his reaction to this series of events, and failed. “Once his first anger is past, we can prevail upon him to overlook the matter. He may look for another nurse, of course. I would in his place.”

“That would break Mme Fourrier’s heart,” Celia protested. “She is utterly devoted to the little girl.”

“And the child really survived all those days on the road without sickness?”

“I found that surprising, too,” Minerva said. “She is much smaller and thinner than the twins or even Verena were at that age, but when I looked after her for some hours I noticed that her little arms are not weak, and she does not seem stupid either.”

“Why would she be stupid, if her father is not?” Celia asked indignantly. “Mme Fourrier reports that no matter how much milk she drinks, and how much she eats, she never gets fatter, though she is slowly growing in size and strength. She was thin at birth, and she is smaller than other children, but there is nothing immediately life-threatening like a persistent cough or inability to keep her food down. She loves food. She is still suckling, but eating a variety of other things too, without fussing. And she is already learning to walk.”

“Roger did not do that until he was fifteen months old,” Charlotte said. “I am curious to see this child and her nurse for myself.”

As Charlotte and Celia left for the nursery, Minerva repaired to her own room to change out of her travelling clothes. She found the letter from Mr. Beecham in her pockets, and fell to dreaming for a minute or two, recalling every word he had said to her just before writing it. When he had handed the envelope to her later in the evening, he had not said anything more of significance, but she remembered the kiss he had pressed on her hand as he left, and the ardent look in his brown eyes.

Beecham had trusted her to deliver his letter. She had already delayed long enough. From their previous acquaintance, she knew Sir Mortimer was likely to be found in the library. As soon as she had changed she set out to hand the missive over to him.

Alas, on the way she ran into Jennifer. “Minerva! Poor child!” was not the way she preferred to be greeted, but she dutifully exchanged kisses with her oldest sibling and suffered herself to be lectured to, and commiserated with, a full five minutes before the urge to escape became overwhelming.

“I have an urgent errand,” she said, glad it was the truth. “We can talk more later tonight, Jenny. You look in fine fettle yourself.” She left quickly, before Jennifer asked after her errand. Her sister could be very persistent, and had exerted authority on her since her early childhood. The age difference of fifteen years meant that Jennifer had never been a companion, but always more like a young aunt. Minerva was determined to assert her equality as an adult before much longer, but right now she had other things to see to.

Chapter 28

When James returned home a little after lunchtime some four days later, the household was so busy preparing for the ball on the following day, that at first his arrival went almost unnoticed. He had ridden for the last part of the journey, and repaired straight to the stables, to hand his tired mount to the head groom with strict instructions on its care and bestowal. Although a mere hired animal, it had carried him faithfully and deserved a reward.

“The horses you left at Portsmouth, Sir, have come back safe and sound,” he was assured. So much had happened since then, that it took James a moment to recall what the stable master was talking about.

Making his way back over to the main building, James was greeted by the family’s four dogs, ecstatically barking and trying to jump up at him. With a firm command he managed to calm them down at least somewhat. The shaggy puppy, which had grown an inch in his absence, was still yipping in excitement.

The front door was wide open, and servants were carrying various bulky items of furniture in the direction of the lawn to the right side of the house. It was a favourite spot for family picnics, shaded by two stately oaks, and framed on three sides by profusely blooming rosebushes on wooden frames. But was it not a ball they had been planning? And was it this night, or the next one, as he had thought?

He finally ran his wife to earth in the kitchens, where she was consulting with her cook. To his relief, she looked calm and energetic. And her stomach – yes – was a tiny bit rounder than before.

When Charlotte saw him stand in the door she flew to him, and the hug they shared, under the broad grins of the kitchen staff, told him that he was home at last. Taking his wife by the hand, he quickly drew her towards their apartments on the first floor.

“Oh, James, how wonderful that you are back today! I was not looking forward to giving a ball with the host absent.” She looked him over critically. “You’ll want a bath, and a meal.”

“Everyone is so busy, and it is such a warm day, I shall just swim in the pond for a while.”

“As you like. The children will be so happy to see you! They have been asking after you every single day.”

“I missed them too,” James said in a low voice. “Especially since we were hunting for another child.”

“I already know you did not find the little girl.” Charlotte grinned mysteriously.

James looked at his wife in bemusement. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Because Minerva found her in London four days ago, and the nurse and child are in our nursery, right here,” she said with a happy little sigh. “They are both fine.”

“Here?” James felt staggered. “How? Why? Are you saying that our whole trip was unnecessary?”

“I suppose, but it hardly signifies, now that you are back. Alphonse will find a message from Minerva when he arrives in London, so we should see him back here soon enough.”

“I have some questions for the woman, but later will do. It was not an easy journey,” James said. “The constant worry was hard on Alphonse. He had to face some things he would rather have continued to ignore. But never mind him – I missed you, most of all.”

Arrived in their bedroom, James locked the door and ran his eyes over his wife’s lush body, then embraced her again. They kissed for a long, pleasurable time. Eventually he came up for air. “Are you still feeling all right, with the child growing inside you? No complications, strange cravings, or faintness?”

“Nothing that is not normal at this stage,” Charlotte assured him. “And nothing that we need think about at this particular moment.” She pulled the combs out and let her long blonde curls fall down her back.

James looked at her, and swallowed. “I missed you most in the night, in all those inns, but now that it’s daytime, and I can see every inch of you, that is even better.” A sudden doubt assailed him. “I better had jump in the pond before we go any further. I have been riding hard …”

“Don’t you dare leave me unsatisfied to go for a swim, after teasing me like this!” Charlotte linked her arms round his neck, showing that she would not tolerate any escape now. “You left me lonely too for all those nights. What do I care about some honest sweat – you can bathe later. Now, come here and show me exactly what we’ve both been missing.”

James followed her command without further hesitation. Her practical mind was one of the many things he admired about his amazing wife.

How wonderful to be back home, was his last thought before passion drove everything else out of his consciousness.

+++

Eventually they got around to talking. “What has happened here while I was gone? How could Minerva find Alphonse’s child?”

As succinctly as possible, Charlotte told him everything.

James was happy and relieved about little Monique’s safe arrival, but when he heard about the rumours circulating about Minerva’s and Rook’s courtship, his brows contracted in anger. “How is that even possible? She has been here with us, as respectably as anyone could wish. I wonder if somebody has intentionally spread this nonsense, to harm my sister. Many of the less popular debutantes and their Mamas were jealous of her success.”

“She is taking it with amazing equanimity, considering that Minerva is only nineteen. Jennifer, who is also here with her family, carries on a lot more about it. She feels the slight reflects on the whole family.”

“And the Conways are still beleaguered by that man?”

“Peter? So I hear from Celia. Beecham sent a letter through Minerva, urging them not to come to town, and not even to communicate by letter under their real names, until he has sorted matters out. You and I know how unpleasant an adversary Peter can be. What I find puzzling is that according to Minerva, Mrs. Conway had left a card at Amberley House. Why on earth would she want to call on your family?”

“If she is trying to escape from Peter, she might be looking for allies.” James frowned. “We had speculated that she has been coerced into this reconciliation. Though we both have reason to dislike her, when you look at it rightly, she is just another of Peter’s victims.”

“I know, but that does not make her any more sympathetic. One always feels more pity for sweet, meek, blameless victims.”

“Still, it might not be a bad idea to hear what she wants,” James said. “Perhaps Beecham can discreetly approach her via an intermediary.”

“At this rate we will soon be founding an association of former victims of Peter Conway,” Charlotte joked. “I would bet that there are several other eligible members, of whom we have not heard as yet.”

“I would not take your bet, sweetheart.” James stretched his limbs pleasurably. “Though I hate to get up, I had better go for that swim now. Before I leave, what are you planning out on the lawn? Were those chairs and tables they were carrying out?”

“Indeed. Since the weather is so unusually warm and dry, I decided to have an elegant dinner served outdoors. There will be lanterns in the oak trees, and fireworks at midnight. I want to achieve a romantic atmosphere that none of the guests can easily forget.”

“I am sure you will.” James kissed her on the nose. “I already feel romantic, just from listening to your description.”

“Minerva thought flying insects attracted by the light might disturb the dinner, but Celia has read about a method to keep them away. We have tried it yesterday, and it seems to work. The dancing will be indoors, in the ballroom, of course; there is no sufficiently smooth surface anywhere else. The dining room will serve as card room. I had best dress again, there are a hundred things I need to see to.”

“And I interrupted you at such a crucial time.”

“Don’t pretend that you regret it – I certainly don’t.”

“Before I do anything else,” James said, starting to put on his clothes, “I will look in on the children. And I confess I am curious to see Alphonse’s daughter, after chasing her all these days.”

“Ours, and Verena, will be ecstatic to have you back.”

“Knowing they were safe at home, with you, gave me inexpressible relief, when I saw Alphonse’s anguish,” James said. “I never want to be in such a position. Thank God we have each other, and the children, safe in our own home. I won’t take that for granted too easily in future.”

Charlotte smiled as she reached for her petticoats and stays.

“I had leisure to think a great deal on the way,” James said, “and I have made up my mind that I will let some other man have the seat in parliament. I only wanted it because I sometimes feel that George and men like Beecham are accomplishing more useful work in the world. But we can find something more useful than politics, if we put our minds to it.”

“I am glad … James, don’t you think that this work would suit Henry himself? He is already familiar with political circles. He had heard of Protheroe’s illness through his own channels, remember. And he frequently speaks in formal phrases, as though he were delivering a peroration – what would be more natural than for him to do so in parliament? From that dinner where he argued about foreign policy with Minerva, I gathered that his views are sensible and well-considered.”

James looked at her and began to laugh. “Why didn’t I think of that myself? It’s perfect, and I suspect he’ll agree readily enough. You aren’t concerned about
his
character and integrity?”

“He is not my husband, or the father of my children. Besides, the legal profession also involves many pragmatic decisions. I daresay that the change will not be so great for him, as it would have been for you.”

“Yes, Henry can look after himself. Come here, love. I want to kiss you again.”