Lady of Lincoln (21 page)

The message arrived as she and her father were getting up from the breakfast table. They had still not decided what to do about Patrick’s portrait.

‘What was that about, my dear?’ her father asked her.

‘Mrs Trimmer promised to tell me when Sir Gareth was going, that is all,’ she answered calmly. ‘I will go and sit with Grandpapa now. He seems to be improving every day. Did I tell you that he spoke a word or two the other day?’

She went upstairs, not realizing that after a few moments, her father had followed shortly behind her.

‘Why am I still so confused?’ she asked her grandfather. ‘I know about his wrong-doing. I could never ally myself to so base a man. Why, then, can I not feel peace of mind?’

‘Good man,’ her grandfather said, in as clear a tone as she had heard from him since his attack.

‘Grandfather?’ she exclaimed.

‘Good man,’ he said again.

‘Grandfather, you don’t know,’ she replied in frustrated tones.

‘Yes I do,’ he stated haltingly. ‘So do you.’ He paused. ‘Loves you. Good man.’

As Emily stared at the old man, it was if all the confusion suddenly dropped away from her, and at that moment she was filled with the peace of mind that she craved. Whatever she had heard that day at Ernest Fanshawe’s house, whatever Nathalie might have said, whatever Mrs Hughes might have intimated, she knew that Sir Gareth was noble and true, and she had let him go without allowing him to speak in his own defence, or telling him that his feelings were returned.

‘Oh Grandpapa!’ she exclaimed. ‘He’s gone, thinking I despise him. What shall I do? It’s too late.’

‘Not too late,’ he breathed. ‘Steep Hill.’

‘Steep Hill?’ she echoed, too dazed to think clearly.

‘He used to run down it as a boy,’ said her father. He had come in through the dressing-room and had heard a large part of the conversation. ‘So did I. Sir Gareth will ride the long way, by New Road.’

For a brief moment, Emily stared at her father, before swiftly kissing him, then bending to salute her grandfather on his
withered
cheek. Then she fairly flew down the stairs and across the Minster Yard, not even stopping to put on her bonnet. She would not be too late. She must not be!

As she was nearing the West Front, Mr Fanshawe came
rushing
towards her at almost the same breakneck speed. ‘Miss Whittaker!’ he exclaimed. ‘Matters are not as you think – about the baby, I mean.’

She only checked for an instant. ‘Mr Fanshawe, I cannot stop!’ she exclaimed. ‘I must not miss him!’ And she hurried on through the Exchequer Gate, and turning left, gathered up her skirts and prepared to run down one of the steepest city streets in England. 

A
fter visiting Fanshawe, Sir Gareth had only returned briefly to his sister’s house before making his farewells. Mrs Trimmer had been hoping against hope that Emily would send some word, or even come herself, and she only managed to conceal her disappointment with extreme difficulty. Telling herself that it was her duty to send her brother off with a
cheerful
countenance, however, she waved him goodbye, smiling, before going indoors to weep on her husband’s chest. ‘Oh Alan,’ she sobbed, ‘I did so hope that they would be happy!’

‘They might be yet, my love,’ her husband replied. ‘Do not give up hope. Who can tell what may occur?’

Although his quickest route would have been through the Minster Yard, Sir Gareth rode up Bailgate and through Newport Arch, then round to the right, in order to join the road that would take him gently to the bottom of the hill. So Emily would have none of him; well, in that case, he did not want to risk laying eyes on her. Who knew what he would end up saying or doing? Better to begin to put her out of his mind altogether. He could go back to London and take up with
someone
like Annis Hughes, who would not expect him to be anything other than what he was.

My God, no! He exclaimed to himself. Better to hide away on his estate and look after his acres and his tenants. It was
what he had intended to do anyway; it was just that he had not intended to do it alone.

By the time he had allowed these various cogitations to go round and round in his mind, he had reached the bottom of the hill and he paused at the point where the descending lane emerged onto New Road. He looked up towards the cathedral, remembering all that had taken place in and around it. Contrary to all logic, the soaring towers, the majesty of the place seemed to infect him with a most unexpected feeling of optimism.

‘Damn it!’ he exclaimed. ‘I won’t give up! She
must
listen to me!’

He was on the point of retracing his steps, when he became aware of a commotion going on in the lane above him, and looking up the street more carefully, he saw a female figure flying in his direction, her skirts gathered up almost to her knees. Those taking the route at a more decorous pace were obliged to get out of the way as she ran. Those standing about at the side of the road shouted encouragement.

As he recognized her, his heart seemed to miss a beat, and he dismounted hastily, for he could see that given the momentum that she had built up, she was only going to stop with extreme difficulty.

Hastily giving the reins of his horse to a passing lad, with the promise of a coin or two when he had leisure, he threw himself into Emily’s path and braced himself for the impact.

She hurtled into his arms, he staggered, held her, swung around in an effort to keep them both upright, then lost his footing and fell, landing on his back with Emily on top of him.

Emily, thoroughly out of breath, but determined to explain herself before she lost courage, gasped, ‘You mustn’t go! I don’t want you to go! I was wrong to believe it, even for a minute. You are good and honourable and … and I love you, Gareth.’ The crowd, some of whom had followed Emily’s progress from part way down the hill, although not as rapidly as she, broke
into a ragged cheer, with some of them making various suggestions as to what this strange couple might do now.

‘Give ’er a kiss, mister!’ was both the most repeatable and the most audible.

Sir Gareth, grinned, answered ‘I intend to,’ in tones that only Emily could hear, and pulling her head gently but firmly towards him, suited his action to his words, whilst the crowd cheered again. ‘My dearest,’ he said, when he had broken off this brief embrace, ‘I think perhaps we might get up now. We are attracting rather a lot of attention.’

Emily looked around, colouring as she heard comments such as, ‘It’s Canon Whittaker’s daughter!’ ‘Well I never!’ ‘Who would’ve thought she had it in her?’ The tone was admiring, rather than otherwise.

‘Who indeed?’ murmured Sir Gareth. ‘Emily, my dear …’

Hastily she got up, whereupon the baronet did the same, brushing himself down as well as he could, given that most of the dirt was on his back.

He turned around, and finding the boy who was holding his horse, tossed him a coin, the size and colour of which made the lad blink. Then he turned to Emily, smiling. ‘Come, my love,’ he said. ‘Let me take you home.’

They returned to the Minster Yard, retracing the route that Sir Gareth had taken just a short time previously, but with very different feelings. There was much to talk about, but this was neither the time nor the place. The baronet offered to put Emily up onto his horse, but she refused. She wanted to walk beside him, her hand tucked into his. For the most part, they walked in silence, exchanging smiles, and savouring this new joy of being together, knowing that the feelings of each were fully returned by the other.

‘The cathedral?’ Sir Gareth asked her, when at last their climb was finished, and he had entrusted his horse to a passing choirboy with the instruction to return it to Mr Trimmer’s stable.

She nodded. ‘You haven’t been up either of the western towers yet, have you?’ she said playfully.

‘No I haven’t, you baggage, but something tells me I’m going to climb one very soon,’ he replied. In truth, he was glad that she had made this suggestion for there were things that they had to say to one another that ought not to be heard by anyone else.

The western towers were not so high as the central tower, and it was an easier climb. As on a previous occasion, Emily went in front. ‘You will have gathered by now, my darling, that my real purpose in taking this position is to leer at your ankles and your shapely … ah. … outline,’ remarked Sir Gareth provocatively as they neared the end of their climb.

‘Gareth!’ Emily exclaimed; then found herself smiling at how lovely it felt to be calling him by his Christian name.

At last they stepped out into the air, and Emily turned to Sir Gareth saying, ‘There you are.’

‘Yes; and there
you
are,’ he answered, pulling her into his arms.

She gasped. They were both a little out of breath, and they stood, gazing into each other’s eyes while the sun shone down on them and the noises of the city seemed very distant. Then, at last, he lowered his head and kissed her, pulling her close against him and holding her as if he would never let her go. He had kissed her before; once fleetingly beneath the Lincoln imp, and once with an intention of punishing her. This time his kiss was firm but tender, and with a hint of passion, and Emily responded fervently.

‘Now tell me,’ he said at last. ‘The last time I saw you, you never wanted to see me again. Why did you believe so ill of me? Was it something that that she-devil Annis Hughes said to you?’

She shook her head. ‘No, not really; although later her words about your unreliability came back to haunt me. It was more to do with Nathalie Fanshawe. I believe … I assume …’ She
hesitated
.

‘Yes, I know her story. You may speak freely.’

Emily blushed. ‘She told me that the father of her baby was a fashionable man about town, with good taste.’

‘Well that cuts it down to several hundred,’ the baronet observed.

‘I know, but listen. She also said that he had been injured in a duel, and you arrived with a recent injury to your shoulder.’

‘Again, not a strong argument for my guilt. In fact, my injury was sustained in a riding accident. Go on.’

‘Lord Stuart said that you ran with a dangerous set.’

He laughed. ‘Anyone who indulges in any activity more
strenuous
than rising swiftly from a chair is accounted dangerous by Stuart,’ he answered. ‘He considers my way of life, which includes regular boxing, fencing and swimming to be positively ruinous. Go on.’

‘When I came to see Mr Fanshawe to tell him that I had found a wet nurse for the baby, I overheard you telling him that you and the baby have the same blood.’

‘And you immediately leaped to the conclusion that I must be the baby’s father.’

Emily hung her head. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered.

‘Well, it was an understandable assumption, given what you knew. What happened to make you think that you might be mistaken?’

‘Nothing happened really,’ she answered, ‘Apart from Grandpapa actually saying some words. One of the things that he said over and over again was that you were a good man. I
couldn’t
think how he could be so sure. Then I realized that he was trusting his own judgement, and I knew that I must do the same. I knew that I had to trust in your honour, and I do, Gareth.’

‘My darling,’ he murmured, feathering kisses across her brow and her cheek before covering her mouth with his own once more. ‘And supposing I said that I could never tell you what the connection was between Nathalie and myself; would you still trust me then?’ he asked her curiously, a hint of tension in his voice.

‘Grandpapa said “I know him; so do you”, I know you Gareth; that’s enough.’

‘A jewel amongst women,’ he remarked, his tone light, but an unmistakable look of sincerity on his face. ‘But I
will
tell you, because since you know so much, there is no reason why you should not know the rest.

‘Nathalie’s lover was my cousin. Sadly, he had been
thoroughly
spoiled by his mother, his father having died, and he expected everything that he wanted to fall into his lap and belong to him exclusively. I never really knew Nathalie, because he was possessive over her. I did keep in touch with him, however, because our mothers were sisters, and my mother felt very anxious about the ruinous path that his life was taking. By the way, I want you to meet my mother as soon as possible. I have a suspicion that she will adore you.’

‘Oh, why?’ Emily asked, momentarily diverted.

‘Because
I
adore you,’ he answered, kissing her. After a brief interval, which proved to be agreeable to both parties, he continued his story. ‘To resume, I was on hand when he issued a challenge to a duel, and much against my will, found myself involved as his second.’

‘Then I know the part that you played,’ Emily put in. ‘After the duel, you took Nathalie to Mr Fanshawe.’

‘I have never been sure that I did right on that occasion,’ he told her.

‘Oh, but you did,’ she assured him, ‘for they were most sincerely attached to one another. Is the baby’s real father still living?’

Sir Gareth shook his head. ‘After he had recovered from his injuries, he fled to Paris and perished there in a street brawl.’

‘Mr Fanshawe must have wanted to tell me about the baby,’ Emily exclaimed. ‘He tried to stop me in Minster Yard, only I could not wait to listen to him. I was in too much of a hurry to catch you.’

‘And so you ran all the way down Steep Hill.’

Emily nodded. ‘That was Grandpapa’s idea,’ she told him. ‘He used to run down it as a boy, Father said.’

‘Your father knew that you had come in pursuit of me?’ the baronet asked curiously.

‘We have reached a new understanding,’ Emily replied. ‘After you had gone, I blurted out about Patrick wanting to be a soldier, and that my heart was broken.’

‘So was mine, sweetheart,’ he told her. ‘Go on.’

‘I think that you had already guessed that I have
unintentionally
been playing something of a part, to try to make up to Father for the loss of Patrick. After I had let rip at him, he began to ask questions about Patrick and about me too. I think that he might want to hear what you have to say about my brother; I think that maybe this time he will be ready to hear the truth.’

After a moment’s silence, he said, ‘You were telling me about how you came to run down Steep Hill.’

‘I knew that that was the only chance I had of stopping you,’ she explained, ‘but when I started to run down, I suddenly
realized
that I did not know how I was going to stop. I have never been so frightened in all my life.’

‘As well that I was there to catch you, then,’ replied Sir Gareth, taking her hand and kissing it. After a moment or two, he went on, ‘I am glad that Nathalie and her husband were happy together. I shall continue to take an interest in the child. That will be much easier now, of course.’

‘Why is that?’ she asked him.

‘You will naturally want to keep in touch with your friend’s child. I, as your husband, will support you in this.’

‘As my husband,’ pondered Emily, her finger on her lips, a tiny frown crossing her brow, even though her heart was
beating
very fast. ‘It is strange, sir, but I do not remember a proposal of marriage.’

He pulled her into his arms, none too gently this time. ‘You baggage, are you flirting with me?’ he asked her.

‘Trying to,’ she replied demurely.

‘Well, you are getting better at it,’ he told her, before he kissed her again. ‘My sister has been parading a series of females in front of me for years; but never have I felt the remotest desire to link my life with any of them. Now, having met you, I know that my life will not be truly complete without you. I love you, Emily Whittaker. Will you marry me?’

‘Yes, Gareth, I will. I love you too.’ More kisses. She looked around. ‘I suppose that some people might say that it was improper to behave in this way up here.’

‘I cannot agree,’ her betrothed replied. ‘What better place to plight one’s troth? I assume that you will want to be married here?’

‘It is what I have always dreamed of, but I never ever thought that it would happen to me,’ she replied smiling. He was her hero after all.

They were married in Lincoln Cathedral just a few weeks later. Emily’s father played a part in the service, which was conducted by the dean. Her grandfather, although not well enough to attend, was able to sit by his bedroom window and watch as she walked to church with her father and then returned on her new husband’s arm.

It was generally agreed that never had there been a happier looking couple. Emily looked radiant in cream satin with tiny seed pearls stitched into flowers on the bodice of her gown. Sir Gareth, in white knee breeches and waistcoat and a dark-blue coat looked pleased and happy.