Joan Wolf (17 page)

Laura frowned. “But I have always heard that a nursing mother should refrain from sexual relations. It is supposed to spoil the milk.”

Jane gave her a scornful look. “I heard that story too. All I can say is, it never spoiled
my
milk. Well, I mean you only have to look at my children to see how healthy they are. Good heavens, I can just imagine David’s face if I told him ...” She broke off and grinned. “I should have done it,” she said. “It would have been hilarious.”

Laura was staring at her in wonder. “Then you mean you never worried about it?”

“Of course not. I didn’t believe it in the first place, but even if I did, the children are just splendid and I love them dearly, but David comes first.”

Laura smiled radiantly. “Jane, you have just made me feel so much better.”

“Yes,” said Jane complacently, “it is always helpful to have an older friend to advise one.”

There was the sound of male voices in the hallway, and then their husbands came into the room. For the remainder of the evening they continued the discussion about their upcoming London visit. Laura said she wanted to meet a few fashionable people who had known Caroline; she thought perhaps she might get a hint of who her previous suitors had been before she married Mark. “The problem is,” she said ruefully, “I don’t know any fashionable people.”

“I don’t either,” said Jane. “But there is always Anne—my aunt. Or at least she is married to my uncle. It’s silly to think of Anne as an aunt; she’s only a few years older than I am.”

“That’s a good thought,” David said approvingly. “The Marquis will have to be in town for the coronation the same as we.”

“They’re in London now,” Jane said. “It’s the stupid Season.”

“And there is always Aunt Maria,” Mark said reluctantly. “She is in town now as well.”

“There,” said Jane triumphantly. “We should be able to scratch up a few fashionable parties for you, Laura.”

“Jane ...” Mark’s voice was quiet, but everyone looked at him instantly. “I am counting on you to stay close to Laura. Unfortunately, the way things are, she’s safer if I keep away from her.”

 He looked very tense about the nostrils.

“I promise you solemnly, Mark, she won’t stir a step without me.” Jane’s eyes glittered with a tigerish ferocity, and Mark’s face relaxed a little.

“I’m counting on you,” was all he said in reply, and a few minutes later the Wymondhams took their leave.

Chapter Twenty-two

The two couples arrived in London the first week in July. The only child to accompany them was Matthew; the others had all been left at Wymondham, with Robin feeling very grown-up and important to be going on a visit to his friends’ house.   The Wymondham house in London was, as Jane had promised, extremely beautiful. It made Laura homesick for her own beautiful home, and more than ever determined to get to the bottom of the mystery so they
could
return to Castle Dartmouth in safety.

Not long after they arrived, Jane sent a note around to the Marchioness of Rayleigh, her uncle’s wife, and the following morning the Marchioness called. Laura tactfully withdrew upstairs and it was over an hour later that a footman sought her out to ask if she would join Lady Wymondham in the gallery. As Laura walked into the long, beautifully paneled room, she saw that the Marchioness was still there.

“Anne, this is Laura Dartmouth, whom I have been telling you about,” Jane said. “Anne is Lady Rayleigh, my uncle’s wife,” she explained to Laura.

“How do you do, Lady Rayleigh,” Laura said with composure, and thought that the fair-haired, blue-eyed young woman most certainly did not look old enough to be Jane’s aunt.

The Marchioness smiled. “Jane has been telling me of your dilemma, Lady Dartmouth.”

Laura looked alarmed and cast a reproachful look in the direction of Jane’s black head. Jane met her eyes straightly. “The story of your accidents is all over London,” she said tersely.

“Oh, no!”

It was a cry of pure distress, and Lady Rayleigh answered in her gentle voice, “I’m afraid it is true, Lady Dartmouth. That is why I was so surprised when Jane told me you and Lord Dartmouth were here at Hawkhurst House.”

“But how did the rumors start?” Laura asked.

“Who knows how these stories get around?” Anne replied.

“What exactly is being said?” Laura was rigidly upright on her chair, her hands clasped tensely in her lap.

“That you have been the victim of several attempts on your life,” Anne replied bluntly. “Everyone recalls Lord Dartmouth’s first wife, as well, and comments upon how chancy being married to him appears to be. There is some speculation as to whether she
really
committed suicide.”

Laura went so white that Jane jumped up in alarm. Laura shook her head and forced a smile. I’m all right, really.” She turned to Anne. “It’s true enough that someone has tried to hurt me, but the real object of the attacks is my husband.”

“Yes,” said Anne, “so Jane has told me.”

“Do you believe her?” Laura asked directly.

Anne looked for a long minute at Laura’s face. “Yes,” she said. “I do.” She smiled a little. “And not precisely because I think Jane is such a good judge of character. She tends to approve of people solely on the basis of their horsemanship, which is not always the best test of true worth.”

Laura smiled in response. “I know. She disapproved of me fiercely because I wore a new riding habit and she thought I was a
poseur.”

 
Anne laughed, and Laura continued, “What has convinced you, then, Lady Rayleigh?”

“Jane says David likes Lord Dartmouth tremendously,” Anne replied promptly. “Unlike his wife,
he
is an excellent judge of character.”

Jane nodded complacently. “It’s true. David’s judgment is infallible.”

Anne smiled with affectionate amusement at her husband’s niece. “Of course, the final proof of Lord Dartmouth’s sterling character came when Jane told me that she liked Lord Dartmouth too, even though he was hopeless on a horse.”

“He is not hopeless,” Laura said indignantly. “And I’d like to see you try to sail a ship, Jane!”

“On a horse Mark is adequate,” Jane said flatly. “It’s true.
You
know that.”

 “I understand you yourself are more up to Jane’s standard,” Lady Rayleigh murmured.

“Laura rides splendidly,” Jane said with enthusiasm. “Mark could be a decent rider if he were interested, but he isn’t.”

“Not interested in horses, and yet Jane likes him.” Lady Rayleigh’s tone was incredulous. “He must be a marvel,” she said to Laura.

“He is.” Laura, to her own horror, sounded a little tearful. “He is a wonderful man, and some vicious person is trying to destroy him.”

“Well,” said Anne practically, “we shall just have to find out who it is. Jane says you think it might go back to Caroline.”

“Yes.”

Anne nodded. “I remember her. She was the Incomparable of her Season.” She looked at the two younger women to make certain she had their full attention.  “Now, this is what we’re going to do. I am holding a ball in three days’ time to which you will all come. In the meanwhile, I shall prepare a list of the men who were dangling after Caroline Gregory six years ago. I’ll invite as many of them as are still in town, and we’ll all make a point of speaking to them. Then we’ll compare our impressions and see if we’ve reached any conclusion.”

 Laura and Jane both thought Lady Rayleigh’s idea was excellent and engaged to appear at Rayleigh House in three days’ time, spouses in tow.

The three days before the ball were very busy. Jane and Laura went shopping. Both of them needed court gowns for the coronation, and both needed to augment their wardrobes to meet the demands of London. Mark went to the Admiralty and met with friends from the Royal Society. He came home from these encounters feeling more confident about his reception in London than he had dreamed possible. The rumors had reached the naval and the scientific communities, but the men of his world made it plain that they were sticking by him. He had felt, he confided to Laura, like hugging them.

His one assay into the fashionable world went better than he expected also. He went to Brooks’ with David, and though there was a bit of restraint and a great deal of unobtrusive curiosity, everyone he met was polite.

 “It was because of David,” Mark told Laura. “One could see them all thinking: Well, if
Wymondham
is sponsoring the fellow, he can’t be all that bad.”

Laura laughed. “Is David considered such a font of wisdom?”

“I think it’s more that everyone likes him so much. He got quite friendly with a number of fellows during the trial, he told me. Fellow sufferers and all that. The few chaps he introduced me to today were damn nice, in fact.”

“It’s strange to think that we’ve only known the Wymondhams for a few months,” Laura said musingly. ‘It seems as if we’ve been friends for ages. And Jane in particular doesn’t seem to make friends very quickly, yet she has been so tremendously good to me. Even Lady Rayleigh seemed surprised by her.”

Mark smiled at her tenderly. “I understand it perfectly,” he said. “In some ways, you know, you’re very like David. Which is probably why I like
him
so much.”

Laura looked startled. “Do you think so?”

“Yes,” he said, “I do. And now tell me—have you seen Dr. Danbury yet?”

Laura had never felt better in her life. “Do you know,” she said a little hesitantly, “I thought I would wait. I’m feeling much better.”

“Yes, I thought you seemed to be,” he agreed blandly. “However, I want you to see him anyway. After all, it’s why you came to London.”

She met his brown eyes and knew he was going to hold her to it. He knew she had used Danbury as an excuse, but he was going to call her bluff.

“All right,” she sighed in resignation. “I’ll make an appointment.”

“Good,” he replied, grinned at the expression on her face, and left the room saying, “That’ll teach you to tell tales to
me
.
”

* * * *

Two weeks before the coronation, the Marquis and Marchioness of Rayleigh held a great ball and the whole world came to it. Laura had spent more time on her appearance than she had ever done in her life. She wore a gossamer gown of pale lemon silk over a creamy satin slip. The dress was deeply décolleté, and around her neck she wore the Dartmouth diamonds. Her hair was dressed simply, a la Grecque, and on the shining brown crown of her head she wore the Dartmouth diamond tiara. Pregnancy agreed with her. Her skin bloomed, her breasts swelled full and firm in their yellow silk, her waist was still slender and supple.

Mark’s eyes widened when he saw her. “You look good enough to eat,” he said. “What a waste to spend the evening at a ball.”

She smiled serenely up at him. “We are going out to do battle.” She regarded his tall figure with approval. “You look splendid, darling.” She handed him her cloak. “Jane and David are waiting downstairs. Avanti.”

* * * *

Anne had done her homework well and had collected four men who at one time had been serious suitors of Caroline Gregory.

The Marquis thought she was mad. “Good God, Anne,” he said when she confided in him. “Worthington! Dullest chap I ever met. And the others are all of the first respectability. You’ve got bats in your belfry, my girl, if you think any of them are going about trying to kill Lady Dartmouth.”

“You would have said the same thing about Julian Wrexham, Edward,” Anne replied firmly.

As this comment was indisputably true, Lord Rayleigh ceased to argue. But his skepticism remained, and as the ball progressed, his wife had to confess she found herself sharing it. Caroline’s ex-suitors, those four at least who had remained unmarried, were all depressingly worthy.

 Jane and Laura came to the same lowering conviction. ‘There isn’t even a
hint
of thwarted passion among the lot of them,” Laura mournfully confided to Jane. They had both retired to a bedroom, ostensibly to fix their hair.

“There isn’t a hint of passion, period,” replied Jane, equally gloomy. “David says he never met such a set of dull dogs in his life. I’m afraid we’ve wasted an evening.”

“It hasn’t been wasted,” Laura replied. “Before we came to town, everyone was convinced Mark was a murderer; now they are not so sure.” She smiled at her friend. “It’s all
your
doing, Jane, yours and David’s.”

Jane looked back at Laura and answered soberly, “It is mainly your doing, Laura. No one who sees you and Mark together could possibly ever believe he was trying to kill you.”

And Jane was right. More than her friendship, more than the gracious sponsorship of the Rayleighs, more than the championship of the Admiralty Lords, it was the expression on his wife’s face when she looked at him that told the world Mark was innocent.

“Well, it’s obvious Lady Dartmouth don’t believe her husband’s trying to make away with her,” Lady Jersey said to Lady Morton as both countesses watched Laura and Mark together on the dance floor. They were waltzing, and Mark’s head was bent to listen to something his wife was saying. A look of faint amusement came over his face as he replied.       The music stopped but they remained linked together for another moment, light and dark brown heads tilted toward each other, absorbed in themselves. Then Laura glanced around and laughingly stepped back from her husband. He slipped a guiding hand under his wife’s arm and they walked together off the floor, both their faces suddenly a little grave. There was about them a sense of natural and inevitable togetherness which was oddly impressive.

“I don’t believe it’s true at all,” Lady Jersey said suddenly.

“I believe I must agree with you, Sally,” replied Lady Morton. “But whatever is going on that such rumors should arise?”

Chapter Twenty-three

Laura was feeling very discouraged the day after the Rayleigh ball, and she and Jane drove into town to visit Lady Maria, who was in residence at Cheney House in Berkeley Square. Lady Maria had been terribly upset by all the rumors, and the three ladies had a long and fruitless conversation trying to fathom out the villain. In consequence, Laura felt even more discouraged as they drove home.