In the Shadow of Arabella (25 page)

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I did not mean to startle you, but Reeves said he saw you come this way.” He was dressed in riding clothes: a gray whipcord coat and close-fitting buckskin breeches. There was a light layer of dust on his top boots, the only evidence of his having just completed a forty-five-mile trip by curricle. Beyond him, Katherine could see this equipage and an unfamiliar team being led to the stables.

Taken by surprise, she said the first thing that came into her head. “Ned! I did not expect you.”

“How is this? Did you not send me a letter asking that I attend you here?”

“Yes, I did,” she answered haltingly, “but I was not certain . . . that you would come.” He did not answer her but instead bent down to retrieve the roses she had dropped. Katherine stooped quickly in an effort to forestall him. “Please, it is not necessary. I can collect them myself.” She reached about, hurriedly picking up the flowers, but she felt his eyes upon her and looked up to meet his gaze squarely. There was now less than a foot between them and for several seconds their eyes held. His gaze faltered first. Glancing down, he collected the last of the blooms and then stood.

Katherine rose as he did. His close, physical presence was affecting her profoundly. She had mourned the loss of the intimacy they had shared, and now she had an overwhelming urge to simply reach out and touch him. Knowing she dared not do even that, she turned and moved away.

He seemed completely in control and continued in a cool voice, “You wrote, I believe, that you have a matter of importance to discuss. Perhaps we could speak in the arbor, for although the day is not particularly warm, the sun is strong and I can see you have not brought your sunshade.”

Katherine turned to stare at him in astonishment. From where did he draw this abstracted air and cool composure? He had been brought into Hampshire against his will to meet with a woman he despised, yet had such command over himself that he pretended concern for her exposure to the sun! She would prefer that he shout at her again. At least those feelings were honest, and certainly preferable to this pretended solicitude.

It was, however, no part of her plan to argue with him, so she held her peace and walked with him to the shade of the arbor. There was a bench and he motioned her to it. He laid the roses he carried on the seat beside her and stood gazing down at her, a look of mild interest on his face.

Katherine drew a long breath and then raised her eyes to his. She had practiced this speech well and she continued without faltering. “When last we spoke, you asked me a question I did not fully answer. I should like to state plainly that the child I carry is yours. There has never been any question of that, regardless of what Sir Humphrey said or what you may believe. It is true I was once in love with Lord Parnaby and hoped to wed him, but we were not . . . we never . . . there is no possibility this child could be his.”

She watched his expression carefully throughout this speech and saw nothing that would give her hope. His face was set in rigid uncompromising lines, his eyes skeptical, cynical. “If you have brought me here to tell me this, Katherine, you have wasted your time.”

‘‘You are very hard,” she said, struggling to keep the tears from her eyes, finding it difficult to believe this was the same man who had held her—loved her—such a short time ago.

“What do you expect, madam?” he asked harshly. “You marry me off a list, choosing me as you would a ripe melon at market. You deceive me about your family, lie about your motives in traveling to Lincolnshire, rendezvous there with your lover, and then expect me to believe your child is mine? I am willing to concede it
could
be mine, for I remember well the nights we spent together . . . But more than that, I cannot believe.”

“Then I think it would be best for everyone if Serena and I were to leave Rudley Court.”

“Leave? And go where?”

“Anywhere. A small village, a cottage, preferably far away from here.”

“And what would you do in this cottage?”

“Live . . . with Serena . . . and my child.”

“And what exactly do you think people will have to say when the Countess of Rudley goes off with her sister to live in a little cottage in the middle of nowhere?”

“I do not care what they say. Why should it matter?”

“You may believe
I
care what they say,” he responded frostily. “Do you think I wish to broadcast to the world that my wife has been unfaithful? That she is to bear another man’s child?”

Coolly, in a carefully expressionless voice, she said, “I want you to divorce me, Ned. I know it is expensive, but I truly think it is the only answer.”

“Divorce you? Expensive? Do you think I would count the cost? Shall I divorce you on the grounds of adultery? The fact that this shame shall become public knowledge does not concern you? You would be shunned by everyone. Received nowhere. Serena’s chances of establishing herself would be destroyed.”

He turned and walked several paces away. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more controlled. “Divorce is not an option. There has never been a divorce in this family and there never will be. You will continue to live in this house as befits your station. You will continue to be my wife so long as one or the other of us lives.’’

“And you will continue to stay away,” she returned bitterly. “Will not people talk about that?”

“I will be here from time to time. But it is a large estate; we need not see much of each other.”

She bit her lip as tears suddenly welled up and spilled down her cheeks. “Oh, Ned, please let me go. This is your home, not mine. I cannot bear to stay where I am not wanted.”

There was a great deal of pain in her voice and he recognized with regret that during the weeks of his absence she had suffered much. He was discovering he had no wish to hurt her, for in some unfathomable way he felt her pain as keenly as his own.

“You have no choice, Katherine. Nor do I,” he said. “I think it would be best if I leave now. Such meetings between us serve no useful purpose.”

Another uneasy silence followed and finally Rudley spoke again. “Is there any other way I can serve you while I am here?”

Once more she was struck by his solicitude, which this time seemed sincere, but she replied in the negative.

“Then I must go,” he said. “Please convey my compliments to Miss Harrington, your sister, and my brother and tell them I was sorry to have missed them. Good-bye, Katherine.”

She managed a half-whispered good-bye before he turned and strode off in the direction of the stables. Katherine stayed where he had left her and twenty minutes later saw his curricle and team of chestnuts come from the stables and disappear from sight as they passed before the house and down the drive.

* * * *

Rudley’s drive back to London was accompanied by considerable confusion of mind. Since he believed Katherine had married him to screen her relationship with Parnaby, he was at a loss to understand why she would suggest that he divorce her. If she had married him for the wealth and security he could offer, why would she now be willing to trade it all for a humble, remote home that she would share with her sister and her child?

He could clearly remember Arabella’s comments concerning the disposition of her offspring. “I find the thought of bearing a child disgusting,” she had said. “I will get fat and ugly, and then there is the appalling pain of the labor itself. I only hope, my dear Edward, that after all my suffering I can manage at least to produce a boy. That would almost make the whole ordeal worthwhile. The very idea of another man’s child as heir to all you possess is diverting in the extreme.” He could have willingly strangled her that day, and he did achieve a small victory when she bore a girl and not the boy she had wished for.

The day Rudley had left Katherine he had equated her behavior with Arabella’s, and in that he now knew he had wronged her. It was obvious after their interview today that she had no intention of using her child as a weapon against him.

His chestnuts made good time to Woking, and he had them taken out there with instructions for them to be returned to Rudley Court the following day. He had a new team put to immediately and pushed on, eager to arrive in town before nightfall.

Two days afterRudley’s visit, in the morning, Oliver offered to take the children fishing at the lake.

“I am afraid I have not had much experience with fishing,” Charity said doubtfully.

“You need not worry about the worms,” Pamela said encouragingly. “Uncle Oliver will put them on for you. He does for me.”

“Girls!” Nicholas said with disgust.

“Worms?” Charity asked tentatively.

“Yes, Charity,” Katherine said. “Earthworms. They are used for bait. You cannot honestly expect a trout to sacrifice itself on an empty hook just to satisfy your sensibilities.”

“Must we go fishing?”

“Honest, Miss Charity,” Nicholas chimed in, “it is the greatest fun. You will like it; I know you will. I can show you how to keep the fish from wiggling while you take it from the hook.”

Oliver to this point had said nothing, and at that moment one of the footmen appeared bearing the fishing gear. Oliver took it from him and headed for the door. “You children go with Lady Rudley and Miss Serena and choose a good spot to fish. Miss Charity and I are going to go dig some worms.”

He was making every effort to maintain his composure, but the expression of profound horror on Charity’s face was too much for him. He and Katherine burst into laughter simultaneously.

“You may both laugh at me all you like,” Charity said. “You have succeeded between you in teaching me to be a better rider, but I promise you there is absolutely nothing either of you can say or do that will prevail upon me to
dig worms!
’’ With this bold pronouncement she moved off in the wake of the children to choose, as Oliver had put it, a good spot.

As Nicholas had predicted, Charity did enjoy the fishing and even managed to catch one fish big enough to eat. But Oliver noticed that what she enjoyed most was throwing the small fish back. Serena caught a huge trout and promptly apologized to Oliver for making his largest catch look so small.

Katherine glanced up at the sound of hoofbeats across the lake and was surprised to see two mounted, liveried grooms leading a third horse. They were advancing at a steady trot down the drive. She rose to her feet. “I think I had best go back to the house to see who has arrived.”

Oliver rose with her as Charity said, “You two go ahead. Serena and I will stay with the children.”

As the riders drew closer, Katherine recognized Lord Gilborough’s livery. Then to her astonishment she realized the horse being led was Lady Halfmile. Oliver greeted Lord Gilborough’s head groom warmly. “Hallo, Wanderman. It’s been a long time. What brings you to Rudley Court?”

“Good day to you, Lady Rudley, Mr. Seaton. Lord Gilborough has sent me to deliver this brood mare, Lady Halfmile.”

“Deliver her?” Katherine asked in surprise.

“So this is the famous Lady Halfmile?” Oliver eyed the mare appreciatively. “I have never seen her before, but I can see that Rudley did not exaggerate her charms.”

“No, sir, she be a fine mare. None better in my book.”

“What do you mean, you came to deliver her?” Katherine repeated her question.

“Why, just that, m’lady. Got the papers pertainin’ to her here in my pocket, to be given to Mr. Seaton or Mr. Kendall, and a note for you especial.”

“Do you mean to say Rudley has actually bought this horse?” Oliver asked.

“Yes, sir, day afore yesterday.”

“The day before yesterday!” Katherine exclaimed. Then remembering her manners, she continued, “Please, Wanderman, you and your companion must take your horses down to the stables and then come back to the house and see Mrs. Simpson. I am sure you could use some refreshment after your long ride. You may leave the mare with us.”

“Why, thank you kindly, m’lady. It’s a bit of a warm day. Best o’ luck to you with the mare.”

Oliver took the mare’s halter rope from Wanderman as the men rode away. “I can see you know more about this than you are saying.”

“I know only that Lord Gilborough has always refused to sell her and that once, in jest, I told Ned I would take her as a wedding present.”

“That is it then. He has bought her for you. He said nothing about her when he was here the other day?”

“Not a word. But he could not have bought her for me. Why should he, especially now?”

“Why don’t you read the note Wanderman mentioned? Perhaps it will shed some light.’’ Oliver shuffled through the papers the groom had handed him. There was among them a sealed note bearing Katherine’s name in his brother’s hand. He passed it to Katherine and she opened it quickly. It contained only a few lines.

Katherine,

I know you will probably consider this poor timing, but I must tell you that this mare has been yours since the day you asked for her. We were waiting only to wean the foal. Please accept her with my compliments.

Rudley

“You are right, Oliver, she is a wedding present. Look. From this it sounds as if he purchased her some time ago.” She handed the note back to him.

“I hate to disagree with you, Katherine, but here is the bill of sale. As you can see, it is dated only two days ago. He must have stopped at Gilborough’s the same day he visited here. Good God! Look what he gave for her. A handsome present, indeed.”

Katherine declined this invitation to see the price of her present but said, “Your brother is generous to a fault. You must admit she is a very practical gift, however.”

“True enough,” he agreed. “And she is much more than a gift; she is an excellent investment, for she will easily pay for herself with her produce if her offspring continue to win as they have in the past.”

“But none of this explains why Ned should buy her now,” Katherine insisted.

“No doubt he had a verbal agreement with Gilborough,” Oliver offered, “and the time came to put it in writing.”

“No matter how I try, I simply cannot comprehend him,” Katherine said.