Belgravia (34 page)

James Trenchard was on edge for the rest of the day, but it was not because he’d doubted Charles. The man was strong-headed, yes, he was certainly that, and probably stubborn and determined to get his own way. His mother had been the same in that. But dishonest? Never. He smiled. Thinking like this had brought the image of Sophia back again. He remembered her determination to be invited to the Duchess of Richmond’s ball, all those years ago. Nothing could have stopped her and nothing did. How beautiful she’d looked that night, how confident, how glowing, how in love.… He sighed as he sat at his desk. Of course Charles had had a father, too. Could Charles have taken after him? They may not have seen it while he was alive, but Edmund Bellasis must have been a snake to seduce an innocent young girl, pretending a marriage, inventing a priest. He must have been odious, and yet they were deceived by him. Was there a chance that Charles took after him? But he shook his head. No. That was not the Charles Pope he knew.

That evening, Anne found her husband very quiet. He sat at dinner in complete silence, playing with his food, listening to Oliver and Susan discuss the state of modern Manchester, contributing nothing. Actually, Oliver had a lot to say about the Capital of Cotton. He had been impressed by what he’d seen and he spoke animatedly.

“Your visit was a success, then?” said Anne.

“I think so.” His tone was suddenly more guarded and he glanced at his father.

Susan was contributing almost as little as James. She seemed thoroughly preoccupied this evening, although there was no very obvious reason why. She hardly touched her food or her wine. She was listening to Oliver, but more as an excuse not to have to talk herself than because of any real interest in what he was saying.

Later, as James stood in his dressing room, his arms outstretched while Miles, his valet, undid the cuffs on his shirt, his wife gently knocked on the door and came in.

“Would you excuse us, Miles,” she said as she crossed the room and sat on a buttoned chair in the corner, Agnes curled up snugly in her lap.

“Of course, madam,” replied Miles, bowing deeply.

Miles had a tendency to be obsequious. He had not been working long for the Trenchard family, having left the drafty castle of Lord Glenair in the Scottish Borders to move to the capital just over a year before. Despite being paid twice his previous salary, he still regarded his position in Eaton Square as a stopgap before he moved on to more refined surroundings. Still, he performed his duties efficiently.

“Would you like me to come back, sir?” he asked.

“No. That will be all. Good night,” replied James.

As soon as the valet had left, Anne wasted no time in asking her husband what was wrong. She stood to help him with his buttons, leaving the grumbling dog in possession of the seat. “You’ve barely said a word the whole evening. What’s happened?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“But I do. I want to know very much.”

James recounted his visit to Charles.

“What did he say?”

James shook his head. “He said there was some truth in the account, although not in every detail. Then he offered to return my investment with interest. I know what’s happened. Charles didn’t want to come between Oliver and me. I’m sure that was at the bottom of it.” He took up a brush from his dressing table and passed it over his scalp.

“He’s done nothing wrong. Of that I’m certain,” declared Anne. But she shared James’s desire to resolve things. Maybe it was time to tell Oliver. She didn’t quite trust Susan to keep a secret, in which she wronged her daughter-in-law, who had plenty of secrets of her own, but Anne thought it might be necessary to take the risk. As she considered it, on her way back to her bedroom, it occurred to her that she might, with profit, employ the services of an ally.

The footman’s voice rang out across the drawing room. “The Countess of Templemore.”

Caroline Brockenhurst looked up. “What?” she said, which was not the most welcoming sound, as Lady Templemore walked toward her. Caroline had of course been expecting Lady Templemore’s daughter, and she was annoyed and a little uncomfortable at the substitution. She wondered briefly if she could get a messenger to tell Maria not to come, but it didn’t seem a very realistic proposition. She stood to receive her unwanted guest. “How nice,” she said to bury her initial reaction. “They’ve just brought tea. Can I give you some?”

“Thank you,” said Corinne as she sat down on a pretty Louis Quinze chair. “I’d love a cup of tea, just as soon as you tell me what this means.” So saying, she removed the letter to Maria from her reticule and handed it to the Countess.

Lady Brockenhurst stared at it. Of course she knew what it was even before it was in her hands. “I’ve invited Maria for tea,” she said, without batting an eyelid. “She should be here at any moment.”

“To plan your visit to Bishopsgate. Or should I say
another
visit?”

“She is an excellent companion on a drive. You know that better than I. You have brought her up very well.” By now she had poured the tea and a cup was safe in Corinne Templemore’s hands.

“Whom do you visit in Bishopsgate?”

“Do we visit anyone in particular?” Lady Brockenhurst’s tone was very light.

Lady Templemore’s was not. “You tell me.”

“My dear, something is troubling you. I hope you will allow me to know what it is.”

At this, Corinne started to laugh. The change of mood was disconcerting, and Caroline found herself wondering if her guest might be ill. Corinne reached into her reticule and took out a piece of folded newsprint. “On the contrary,” she said. “I’m not in the least troubled. I have cause for celebration in which I hope you’ll join me. Did you see the
Times
this morning? Or the
Gazette
?”

“We don’t get the
Gazette
, and I didn’t read the
Times
. Why? What is it?”

She smoothed the paper out and handed it to Caroline. There it was. “The engagement is announced between John Bellasis, Esq., son of the Hon. and Rev. Stephen Bellasis and Mrs. Bellasis, and Lady Mary Grey, daughter of the Dowager Countess of Templemore and the late Earl of Templemore.” Caroline studied it hard. For a second, the sense of crushing disappointment almost took her breath away. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” Caroline looked up. Corinne was staring at her.

“Of course. Many congratulations. Has a date been set?”

“Not yet. But I hate long engagements.”

Before Caroline could say more, the footman was back with them. “Lady Maria Grey.”

The young woman walked into the room but stopped dead when she saw her mother. “I thought you were going to see Lady Stafford this afternoon.” She was very composed by the time she had spoken.

The mother looked back, quite as cool as the daughter. “As you can see, I changed my plans. I wanted to talk to Lady Brockenhurst about the announcement.”

Maria was silent.

“Congratulations,” said Lady Brockenhurst.

Still Maria said nothing.

Corinne was growing impatient. “Don’t sulk.”

“I’m not sulking. I’m not saying anything because I have nothing to say.”

Before the mother could add to this, the footman returned. “Mrs. Trenchard,” he said, and Anne walked into the room.

Caroline stood. “Good heavens. What an afternoon this is turning out to be.”

Anne was as taken aback as her hostess when she saw the other women in the room. “If I’d known you had people here, I’d have left you alone. They brought me straight up.”

“And I am delighted that they did.” Caroline was actually quite glad to see Anne, for once, as the tension between the mother and
daughter was increasingly uncomfortable. “May I present Mrs. Trenchard?” she said. “This is Lady Templemore.”

“I think we saw each other at the soirée here a while ago,” said Anne pleasantly.

“Did we? It may be so.” Lady Templemore was trying to work out how to leave and take her daughter with her before any more trips to Bishopsgate were arranged.

“Hello, Mrs. Trenchard,” said Maria, for the first time employing a friendly voice.

“Hello to you, my dear. I hope everything is well.” Anne took the girl’s hand in hers.

Lady Templemore found herself bridling at their familiarity. How could Maria know these people, do these things, without her knowledge? Was this woman here to arrange another visit to Bishopsgate, too? She felt as if she had let slip the traces of her daughter’s life. “We are celebrating the announcement of Lady Maria’s engagement.”

“Oh?” Anne was as surprised as she was sorry. She really had not believed this would ever happen.

“It was in the papers this morning,” said Corinne.

“I must have missed it. I shall look when I get home.” But Anne glanced at Maria, and nothing in the young woman’s face indicated that anything out of the ordinary had happened. She simply stared ahead, took a cup of tea from Lady Brockenhurst, and drank it.

“I’m going to leave you,” said Anne. “I’ll come back another time.”

“No, don’t.” Lady Templemore was standing. “We’re going now. We have a great deal to talk about. Maria?”

But the girl did not move. Instead she said calmly, “You go, Mama. I want the chance to catch up with Lady Brockenhurst’s news. She will be my aunt, you know.”

Caroline nodded. “That’s right, my dear. And you will be my niece. You go, Corinne, and we’ll send Maria back in the carriage later on. She will be quite safe with us.”

“I can stay,” said Lady Templemore.

“I wouldn’t hear of it. You have much more important things to do. William, please escort Lady Templemore down to her carriage.” She spoke like a tsar issuing a ukase, and it was clear she would brook no further argument. For a moment it looked as if Lady Templemore might put up a fight even so, but in the end she thought better of it and left. The footman had accompanied her and the other women were alone.

“I’m not going to marry him, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Maria spoke as if she were defending her position, but of course she was among friends.

“Am I allowed to say I’m glad?” Anne sat down again.

“And me,” added Caroline. “Although I dread the conversation with my brother and sister-in-law. John would have offered you a great position, but position isn’t everything, and if
I
say that, it must be true.” They laughed, Maria with relief as much as anything else.

Then she spoke. “How is he?” she asked, her cheeks flushing.

None of them needed to inquire as to whom they were discussing. “Very well, I think,” said Caroline. “At least, I haven’t seen him since I saw him with you. Mrs. Trenchard?”

“I haven’t seen him either.” She hesitated. Should she discuss her grandson in front of Maria, even if the girl was in love with him? That much was clearer than ever after the exchange she had just witnessed.

“Go on,” said Caroline. “It is vulgar to be mysterious.”

“No, it wouldn’t interest Lady Maria.”

The young woman protested at once. “Anything to do with Mr. Pope interests me a great deal.”

But before she could go further, the footman returned. “What is it, William?”

“The Countess of Templemore is outside in her carriage, m’lady. She is waiting for Lady Maria.”

“Thank you, William,” said Caroline. “Lady Maria will be down in a moment.” The man knew he’d been dismissed and he left. The three women looked at one another. “You’d better go, my dear. There’s no point in antagonizing her any more than we need to.”

“If you see him, give him my love.” Maria had clearly accepted that her mother would win this round. “And tell him not to believe what he reads in the papers.” In another moment, she had gone.

“Now, tell me,” said Caroline, settling back in her chair.

“Very well.” Anne nodded. “My son recently paid a visit to Manchester. I think he went for the sole purpose of finding something to Charles’s discredit. While he was there he met some men who’d been involved with Charles in business. They accused him of obtaining the mill in an underhand way, and of cheating Customs and Excise.”

“I don’t believe it,” said the Countess.

“Nor do I, and nor does Mr. Trenchard. But what disturbs my husband is that he believes Oliver’s motive for traveling north and delving into Charles’s history is because he is jealous of the attention James has paid our grandchild. Now Charles does not want to come between father and son.”

Caroline thought for a moment. “In other words, the deceit is getting out of hand and threatening the unity of your family. I think,” she said slowly, as if still ruminating over an idea, “I think I should like to acknowledge Charles.”

“What do you mean?” Anne’s heart was in her mouth.

“Let me speak. I know there is nothing to this nonsense, but your son is obviously determined to show Charles in the worst possible light. For some reason he has taken against him, and that will only get worse. Now Maria Grey will be harassed by her mama in an effort to force her up the aisle with my worthless nephew. All of this can be resolved if you will only allow us to give him a name and a position and publicly include him in our family. You know Henry Stephenson? The bastard son of a duke, but he married the daughter of an earl and they are to be seen everywhere. We already know that Maria will kick and scratch until she’s allowed to be with Charles. Lady Templemore will not be pleased, of course, but she will fight less furiously once she knows we are behind the match and her daughter will always be welcome in this house. My dear, please think. A good life is
waiting for Charles if you will allow me to give it to him. Let this business be the crisis that takes us to a resolution.”

It was quite a speech, and every fiber of Anne’s being was crying out against it, but as she listened, she was forced to acknowledge that there was logic in the Countess’s words. James would not agree, but what could her argument be here and now? “Do you intend to make some kind of announcement?”

Lady Brockenhurst almost laughed. “Certainly not. I shall simply let the news slip out. I shall privately acknowledge that Charles is Edmund’s son, and that will be that.” Caroline smiled, delighted with her decision. “Of course, we have a little time. I shall have to inform Lord Brockenhurst, and there is the question of how we break the news to Charles.…” She tapped her fingers together and walked toward the open door of the balcony.