Bought for Revenge (12 page)

Her eyes positively flashed at that, sparks of green fire flew at him. She tore herself from his grasp. ‘I will not be part of your petty revenge. I would rather
starve
than marry you!’

‘Then starve, madam.’ Angrily he thrust his hands into his gloves. ‘It is your choice, but you might wish to discuss it with your father.’ He walked to the chair to collect his hat and his riding crop. ‘The offer remains upon the table for the rest of the week. After that—’ He reached into his jacket and pulled out a package, which he tossed on to the side table. ‘Your gloves, Miss Havenham. I thought you should have them back. It might be some time before you can afford to buy another pair.’

A
nnabelle remained on her feet until the door closed behind him. Only then did she collapse on to a chair, trembling. How dare he,
how dare he
add this insult to the rest? She would not cry, this was beyond tears.

When the trembling ceased she went into the gardens, but even there it was impossible to think clearly. The heady perfume of the roses, the beautifully scythed lawns, every scent, every image combined to bring home to her just what she would lose in a few weeks’ time.

Unless I marry Lucas Blackstone
.

That was a price she would not pay, but even as she told herself so another voice told her she must at least consider it. Her decision would affect not only her life but her father’s, and everyone
at Oakenroyd. She could remain mistress here, her father’s comfort would be assured.

And the alternative?

She exhaled and looked up, staring at the cloudless blue sky. It was all very well for her to choose to live in penury, but could she expect her father to do so? His health was not good. What if he became ill? There would be doctors’ bills, medicines. Could she risk his health when all that was asked of her was that she marry Lucas Blackstone? The irony was that before the truth of his identity was known, before she had learned his outrageous plans for revenge, she would have been only too pleased to comply.

Belle went into the house to look for her father. She found him in his library, reading. He roused himself when she came in, greeting her with a kindly smile.

‘My love, have you come to tell me it is time for luncheon already?’

‘No, dear Papa, we have a while yet, but I wanted to talk to you.’

‘That sounds serious.’

‘It is. I presume there has been no further news from Mr Telford?’

‘No way out of our difficulties, if that is what you mean. But there is some good news. Telford tells me that Blackstone has written to assure him that he means to keep on all the staff at
Oakenroyd, if they wish to remain. Everything is to continue just as it is. So that will be a comfort, will it not? I was very much afraid that my improvident spending would mean they would all be turned off.’

She tried to smile. ‘That is indeed a relief, sir.’ She took a chair opposite him. ‘Papa, what if…’ She clasped her hands together. ‘What if there was a way we could keep Oakenroyd?’

He gave a wistful smile. ‘Ah, if only.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Papa, what if I were to marry Mr Blackstone?’

There, she had said it.

‘Marry Lucas Blackstone? What is this, my love?’

‘He came here this morning and—and made me an offer. He said if I married him then we could carry on living here, as before. Of course, when Morwood is finished he and I would move there, but you would be able to live on here, as you have always done.’ She stopped and waited for him to speak.

‘Do you
want
to marry him, Belle?’

She looked away. ‘No. No, not this way.’

‘Then you must not do so.’

‘But, Papa, have you thought where we shall go, how we shall live?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I have,’ he said, surprising her. ‘Sir John Rishworth has offered us
a house in Stanton. Croft Cottage. It is a small place, I believe, but big enough for us both and one servant, which is all We will be able to afford. And it is on the High Street, so we will be able to walk wherever we need to. We shall still be near our friends. And the vicar has promised to put some work my way. There are one or two boys locally who need help with their studies. What with that and the small annuity you have from your mother, I think we shall go on very well.’

‘Oh, Papa.’ She put her face in her hands. ‘That we should come to this.’

‘It is not so very bad, my love. If everything had been sold on the open market then it would not have covered what I owe. It could have been the debtors’ prison for me. Mr Blackstone is being very generous—’

‘Generous! How can you say that, when he is taking everything we have?’

‘He has done nothing illegal, my dear,’ he said gently. ‘And he thinks he has cause…’

‘If only we could prove to him that he is wrong.’

‘Mayhap he will realise that in time.’

She said slowly, ‘If I married him I would have funds, I could search for witnesses.’

‘Do you think he would let you do that?’

‘I—I don’t know. He wants to marry me as
part of his revenge against you.’ She moved from her chair and knelt at her father’s side. ‘Could you live with him, Papa, knowing how he thought of you?’

‘Could
you?’
he countered.

She nodded. ‘If I had to, if it meant you could keep the comforts you have known.’

‘You must not do that for me, Belle. You know I feel myself in part responsible for Maria’s death. If I had only been stronger—’ He sighed, his shoulders drooping. ‘My conscience tells me this retribution is not wholly undeserved—’

‘Papa, no! My dear sir, we have discussed this.’

‘I have lived with it on my conscience for five-and-twenty years, my love. Jonas was ranting that night. If I had stayed—’

‘You did what you thought right at the time, Papa.’

‘I did, God forgive me.’

‘And if I accept Mr Blackstone’s offer we can keep Oakenroyd—’

He raised his hand to stop her. ‘That is not a good reason for marriage, my love. Do you remember when you were a little girl, I bought a lark from a pedlar in Stanton? It had a very elegant cage, finely wrought from silver wire.’

‘Yes, I remember.’ She nodded. ‘You put the cage in the garden and opened the door. The lark
flew away and we never saw it again, although later I thought I heard it singing in the woods.’

‘Which is as it should be. We have no right to imprison any creature, no matter how beautiful the cage.’ He put his hand on her head. ‘That is what you would be if you married Lucas Blackstone merely to save Oakenroyd. A bird in a gilded cage. I would not wish that for you, Belle.’

Lucas ran up the stairs to his room at the Red Lion, calling for his man.

‘Are there any letters for me?’ he asked, stripping off his gloves.

‘No, sir. Was you expecting something?’

Lucas cursed silently. The week was up, he had expected to have a response from Annabelle Havenham by now. Devil take it, what was wrong with the chit? He was offering her a way out of all her difficulties. And it was not as if she was repelled by him. She had been keen enough for his embraces that night of the assembly!

‘Miss Scanlon and Mr Keighley was married this morning,’ said his valet, waiting to carry away his coat for a brushing. ‘The church bells was ringing all morning. I’m surprised you didn’t hear ’em at Morwood.’

Of course, Annabelle was a close friend of the Scanlons, she might still be celebrating with the family. Lucas looked at the clock. There were
some hours yet. She was making him sweat, but he had no doubt she would give in. After all, what choice did she have? He took a solitary dinner in his rooms, then busied himself with paperwork, determinedly keeping his mind off the ticking clock, but at midnight he was forced to face the truth.

She had refused him.

On the twenty-eighth of September, Annabelle entered Stanton church on her father’s arm, her head held high. Tomorrow was Michaelmas, so this was the last time they would occupy the closed box set aside for the owner of Oakenroyd. Her father patted her hand and supported her, dignified, as always. She kept her eyes fixed upon the parson throughout the service, but she was aware of the stares, the whispers. It was of course common knowledge now that her father was unable to pay his debts and had been obliged to sell up. Samuel had refused to let it be known that the crisis had been forced upon them by Lucas Blackstone. It would only cause difficulties, he said, if their friends had to choose between them and their new neighbour, and most could not afford to fall out with Lucas, who was now a major landowner in the area.

They could not afford to take anyone with them to Croft Cottage except Abel, her father’s
valet, who had begged to be allowed to accompany them and had offered to act as their general manservant. It had fallen to Annabelle to explain this to the staff at Oakenroyd and to tell them that the new owner was willing to employ them all. She advised them all to remain, since work was still scarce in the area. The hardest to convince had been Clegg, her groom. He had been shocked when she had told him they were giving up all the horses and it had taken some time to persuade him that they would not be able to afford such a luxury. He had been mutinous and at first determined to quit Oakenroyd, but Annabelle persuaded him to stay.

‘This has always been your home,’ she told him. ‘Mr Blackstone has assured us that he means to be a fair employer and I would have you give him as good service as you have always given us.’ It had cost her no small effort to say this, but it was her father’s wish that they should make an honourable and dignified exit. Clegg had shaken his head, and she had seen the glint of tears in his eyes as he addressed her.

‘I shall be that sorry to see you go, Miss Belle. I wish there was some way I could help you.’

It was then that she had given in to one small temptation.

‘There is something you could do, Clegg. You could take Apollo to market for me. Not here, out
of the area.’ She knew that everything should be left for Lucas, that he had bought the whole, but she could not bear to see her beloved horse in his hands. She would leave the money for him, instead. ‘Find a good home for him, Clegg, and if Mr Blackstone should enquire you may tell him that you were following my orders.’

Clegg had told her yesterday that he had sold the grey to a gentleman from Halifax who was looking for a hunter and with this she had to be satisfied. It was a small comfort, but it was something.

It was not until the service was over that she realised Lucas Blackstone was present. It was the first time she had seen him in church. He had not been present at Lizzie’s wedding to Mr Keighley, for which she had been profoundly grateful. Had he come now to gloat over their misfortune? She hoped not. She made her way out of the church, her hand resting lightly upon her father’s arm. The bright sunshine was encouraging the parishioners to congregate in the churchyard. Her father wanted to speak to Sir John Rishworth and they were on their way to join them when Mrs Kensley detained her. Reluctantly Annabelle let her father walk on ahead.

‘So tomorrow you quit Oakenroyd, Miss Havenham. How sad you must be.’

‘We must bear it as we can,’ replied Annabelle.

The widow moved a little closer, saying confidentially, ‘I had not thought Mr Havenham addicted to gambling, but—’

‘There is no addiction, Mrs Kensley.’

‘Oh? I understood it was debts he accrued at Harrogate last year…’

‘I am afraid your sources have misled you,’ replied Annabelle, keeping her temper in check. ‘It was the recent war and the bad harvests that have proved so disastrous.’

‘As they have for so many families,’ said a deep voice.

Belle looked up to find Lucas at her side.

‘Perhaps it would have been more appropriate if the sermon today had been on the subject of prodigality,’ tittered Mrs Kensley. ‘It behoves us all to live within our means, is that not so, Mr Blackstone?’

‘Indeed,’ he retorted. ‘As it behoves us to be charitable to those who fall upon hard times.’ He gave a little bow. ‘Good day to you, madam, we will detain you no longer.’

The widow’s eyes snapped angrily, but thus dismissed, she could only move away.

‘If you had married me you would have been spared this humiliation,’ he muttered when the widow was gone.

‘You would have replaced it with a worse one.’ She turned and walked on, but he stayed at her side.

‘Would it be so bad, to be my wife?’

‘Yes, while you believe my father to be a murderer.’

‘I
know
him to be one.’

She stopped. ‘You know nothing of the kind.’

‘How can you be sure? You were not even born.’

‘I know my father. Have you still not read his letter?’

‘No.’

‘His manservant vouches for him. He was at Oakenroyd when the fire was started.’

‘Servants can be bought.’

‘You are determined to believe him guilty. Excuse me—’

‘Belle!’ He caught her arm as she went to walk away. ‘I do not want this for you.’ He ground out the words, his jaw clenched. ‘I have not been able to get you out of my mind. Poverty will destroy you, but it is not too late. Marry me.’

She looked up and met his burning gaze steadily. ‘That would destroy me even more surely.’

Annabelle and her father moved into Croft Cottage the next day. It was indeed small, but
Annabelle cheerfully asserted that with a little work it would be very comfortable. The little room overlooking the street would make a cosy sitting room, and the small dining parlour beside it could also be used as a study for her father. They had brought very little from Oakenroyd, a few trunks of private possessions, but they were sanguine. After all there was no room for more.

The Rishworths were the first to visit them and Sir John made a point of taking Annabelle to one side and saying quietly, ‘I know, my dear, that you and your father will feel this change of circumstance keenly, but it does not alter the respect in which you are held in Stanton. I would like you to know that if ever you or your father feel in need of support or protection, you can call upon me.’

Annabelle was touched by his kindness and by that of the numerous friends who called upon them over the next few weeks, many bringing small gifts, useful things such as food or candles. The sort of items Annabelle would have included in the baskets she gave to the poor and needy at Oakenroyd. She thought wryly how much more difficult it was to receive charity than to give it.

She was kept busy with all the little tasks she had previously left to her servants. Abel proved himself very useful and between them they
shared all the household tasks, leaving her father free to sit in his study and receive callers, read from the few books he had brought with him and to tutor the occasional student sent to him by the vicar.