Lady Olivia's Undoing (12 page)

In the box lay a beautiful sapphire and
diamond bracelet.

Olivia brought her fingers to her lips. “Oh,
John. It’s beautiful.”

“I know it is not a betrothal ring, but
consider it an engagement present.” John kissed her once more and
then walked to the secret door and disappeared.

Olivia prayed for forgiveness, for strength,
but most of all for John, and Henry’s survival. She bargained with
God; that she would gladly give them both up upon their return – as
long as they came back alive.

And then she cried herself to sleep.

It was two days before Olivia climbed out of
bed.

Constance stood in the middle of her room. “I
chary having to say I told you so, but I told you something like
this would happen, did I not? Now what are you going to do?”

“Leave me, Constance, you have no idea how
I’m feeling.” Olivia wiped her eyes with a damp handkerchief. She
hated being awake. Crushing sadness and guilt consumed her. Olivia
looked at her cousin. “I want to die.”

Constance
tsk-tsked
. “Now you sound
like me. Well, you cannot die. Your engagement is the talk of
London, which means you must make an appearance.” Constance strode
to the chair in the corner and picked up Olivia’s wrinkled gown.
“Where is Jennings to not take care of this? She should be
ashamed.” Constance shook out the garment.

“I sent her away.” Olivia sniffed from her
bed. “I did not want her to see me in my state. It would frighten
her.” She had not even suffered as cruelly when Fitzhugh had
died.

“Well, do you know that Gillyford came to the
ball after you left? He heard about your engagement. Gillyford
claimed Uncle Marlborough had already approved your match with him.
He demanded satisfaction and challenged Henry to meet him at
dawn.”

Olivia sat up. “They fought a duel?”

Constance giggled as she hung the gown in the
armoire. “Damn fool Gilly fell asleep in the carriage on the way to
the meet. Henry had no desire to wake him, and Gilly’s man
forfeited. There was no use dying over a quarrel that was not his.
Your name is all over Town.” She walked to the dresser, picked up
several newssheets, and handed them to Olivia. The headlines read
–

Heartbreak in London – Most Eligible Bachelor
to Wed

Marquess off the Market

Duchess of Caymore and Marquess of Dunbury to
be Married

Olivia threw them over the side of the bed.
If it weren’t for John, she would be inordinately pleased. She
prayed he had not seen the papers before he left London.

“Well, what are you going to do? You cannot
be bereft and engaged at the same time.” Constance hovered by the
foot of the bed. “Besides you must call on Dunbury Manor. You must
explain this to the girls.”

Olivia threw herself backward on the bed. “I
sent a note round yesterday. Oh, what must they think of me?
Stealing Henry away from Catherine?”

“You have done no such thing. She left him.
As a matter of fact, the family is very pleased you will finally be
able to marry Henry.” Constance sat on the bed and patted Olivia’s
leg under the blanket. “You should have been allowed to marry him
all those years ago.”

“Yes, I should have.” Olivia sniffled. “I
love Henry. I have loved him my entire life. And now he is off to
blasted Spain! I cannot even enjoy my own engagement.” Olivia burst
into fresh tears, which turned into sobs when she thought of John.
Oh, what had she done?

“Constance, John asked me to marry him.”

“
What
?”

“Yes, the morning he departed. He gave me
this.” Olivia reached under the pillow and brought out a small
jewel case. She handed it to Constance.

Constance flipped the lid and gasped.
“Livvy.”

“Yes, I know. Now do you understand why I
have been abed for two days? I cannot imagine what is going to
happen when they find out I am engaged to both of them. Constance,
they are going to Spain. Together!” Olivia reached for the blanket
and wiped fresh tears.

“What are you going to do?” Constance
asked.

“I can hardly tell you. Wait for them to come
home and try and explain as best I can.”

“In the meantime, are you going to
acknowledge Henry’s engagement?”

“Not yet. I cannot make any decisions until I
speak with Catherine.”

“Catherine?” Constance asked. “Why ever
for?”

“Something does not add up. I saw Henry and
Catherine together last summer and they were inordinately happy.
Catherine left near the first of November. I wish to know what
happened in those months to drive her away.”

Constance shook her head. “You cannot think
he beat her.”

“No, Henry would never raise his hand to a
woman for all his years on the battlefield.” Olivia flung the
covers aside. She could not move forward with wedding plans until
she spoke with Catherine. Why would Catherine be so foolish to give
up the perfect man? Half of the women in London swooned when he
walked into a room. Unless Henry was not as perfect as Olivia
thought him to be. But that was not possible. She climbed off the
bed. “I will drive down to Tunbridge Wells to see her.”

Constance clucked. “Now? Olivia, the day
after tomorrow is Christmas. And then it is your ball.”

“What is forty miles of good roads? The
arrangements for the ball have been finalized for weeks, and if I
am traveling on Christmas Day, who will care?” Olivia opened the
armoire.

“I take it you have not received an
invitation from Penny?”

Olivia sighed, fighting tears. “No, I have
not. But I will be perfectly well on my own.”

“I cannot have you all alone for Christmas,”
Constance said. “Come be with us.”

“No. I must speak with Catherine before I say
anything about Henry. And I must do it before the ball. Ring for
Jennings, please. I must get ready.”

An hour later, Olivia waited for the
carriage. She sat at the long table in the yellow salon filtering
through unanswered mail and invitations. Her eye caught a peculiar
script. She snatched the letter and opened it. It was from the Earl
of Greenleigh.

Dear Lady Olivia,

I received your note, and have spoken to
Cantin about the little house on St. Anne’s Court. He is well
pleased to give up the remainder of the lease and assures me he
will forward the keys to you. I will speak with you in person
anon.

Fondly,

Greenleigh

Olivia tore through the tray of unopened
envelopes feeling for keys. She found it on the bottom.

“Manning,” she called. She rose from the
table and strode to the hall. “Manning.”

He appeared from the small dining room.

“Send the footman up to the attic to fetch my
trunks.”

“Are you going on a trip, Your Grace? Is the
ball not two days hence?”

“Yes, Mr. Manning, I am going away, but not
until
after
the ball. However, I like to be well
prepared.”

“Of course, Your Grace. To what room would
you like them delivered?”

“The sitting room next to my bedchamber.
Thank you, Mr. Manning.”

Olivia returned upstairs. She had already
begun taking small items from around the house, mementos Fitzhugh
had given her, their wedding silver, miniatures of her mother and
father, as well as two of Fitzhugh, and a larger portrait. The
other things she would leave behind for the legacy to continue.

The trunks were brought down from the attic
and Olivia rang for Jennings. When she arrived, Olivia said,
“Jennings, would you be a dear and begin packing my things.”

“Are we going on a trip to some tropical
clime, Your Grace?” Jennings asked hopefully. She had always wanted
to see the West Indies.

Olivia smiled. “No, dearest, not this time.
However, I would appreciate it if you would make haste with the
task.”

“Your Grace?” Jennings knit her eyebrows
together.

“Not now, Jennings, but I will explain later.
Please, dearest, could you just pack and make sure you have
everything
.”

“Of course, Your Grace. I shall pack in
corresponding seasons.”

One of Jennings’ most endearing traits. The
woman was a genius at organization. “Yes, that would be excellent,”
Olivia said.

Jennings nodded and walked toward the closet
where Olivia kept her surplus of gowns.

There. Jennings would make quick work of it
and perhaps they could bring the trunks tomorrow. She had no plans
for Christmas Eve.

When Olivia arrived at the little house, it
did not hold as much charm in the dead of winter as it had last
June, but soon it would feel cheery. Olivia stopped to pick a few
rose heads from the sleeping bushes lining the walkway. On the
porch, she inserted the key, and stepped into the house.

Dust motes hung like fairies in the air, and
sunlight cast long shadows across the wooden floor. The house was
larger than she remembered. A formal parlour off the front door
welcomed her. Draping covered the furniture, but Olivia recalled it
had been comfortable. The library was across the hall. The mahogany
staircase led up to a bright landing.

On the first floor, the dining room windows
overlooked a small terrace and an overgrown garden. Pruning would
be a welcome task to keep her mind off her troubles. She entered
the kitchen through a small serviceable butler’s pantry. The
over-sized kitchen had a delightful porch off the back door. A
small breakfast room lay behind another door on the other side of
the kitchen, which led back to the library.

Upstairs a large bedchamber overtook the
entire front of the house, with two smaller rooms in the back.
Thankfully, there was a water closet with a large tub. In the attic
were two large rooms for servants. She made mental notes of the
furnishings she would bring, and which servants she would take with
her from Caymore.

Returning downstairs, Olivia was satisfied
she would be able to live there in comfort. The house on St. Anne’s
Court would be her stepping-stone to the future. It might not be as
palatial as the Caymore mansion, but it was a charming roof over
her head for the time being. She stepped over the threshold and
locked the front door.

“Good morning,” a man’s voice called.

Olivia turned to the street. A tall man
stopped and raised his hat.

“Good morning,” Olivia said.

“Are you moving in?” the man asked.

“Yes, yes as a matter of fact I am.” Olivia
walked to her carriage. “Do you live here?” She pointed to the
house next door.

He pointed diagonally across the cul-de-sac.
“Dr. Oliver Black.” He held out his hand.

She certainly couldn’t introduce herself as
the Duchess of Caymore. What gossip would that bring? Olivia shook
his hand. “Mrs. John Quiggins,” she said, surprised how easily the
lie rolled off her tongue.

“Mrs. Quiggins. Lovely to make your
acquaintance. I’ll be sure to tell my wife, Fanny, you are residing
here now. She complained the gardens needed a woman’s touch.”

Olivia smiled. “Yes, I was just thinking the
same thing myself. Lovely to meet you Dr. Black.”

She climbed into the carriage, rejuvenated.
Even though her heart remained broken, and her moral compass guilt
ridden, she had never felt so alive. Soon Penny and Will would live
at Caymore. Soon Society would hear of another baby and the Caymore
title would be his. Soon she would have everything she had ever
longed for one way or the other.

Olivia reached Tunbridge Wells by two in the
afternoon, and remained hopeful Catherine would take the news about
Henry without hysteria.

Olivia had her driver raise the knocker on
the door – it looked as though the place was deserted, save the
candles in the upstairs windows.

The door opened and a small, bird-like woman
said, “May I help you?”

“I am Lady Olivia Leighton, Duchess of
Caymore here to see my cousin Catherine Gantry. I have heard from
her sister Mary, she is very ill.”

The woman looked down at her shoes. “Lady
Gantry is in no condition to see anyone.”

Olivia stepped over the threshold. “I did not
come all the way from London two days before Christmas for nothing.
Inform my cousin I am here and wish to see her immediately.”

The woman told the driver to bring the horses
around to the barn, and then she closed the door. She sighed and
walked down the hall into a small sitting room.

Olivia followed.

“If you would wait here, Your Grace, I shall
enquire if Lady Gantry is available.”

Olivia examined the curios and books that
lined the shelves near the fireplace. After what seemed like an
hour, the bird-like woman reappeared. “Lady Gantry is indisposed.
She is sorry to say she cannot see you, but if you would like to
reschedule, perhaps she will feel better within a month.”

“A
month
!” Olivia said. “I do not
think so. Where is she?” Olivia stormed from the room and bellowed
up the staircase. “Catherine, I need to speak with you on an urgent
matter immediately. If you do not wish to come down, then I will
come up.”

From the depths of the old house, came a
sharp, “No.”

Olivia charged up the stairs, the old woman
trailing helplessly behind. At the top, Olivia turned right, but
the woman turned left and raced down the hall.

“Oh, no you do not,” Olivia said and flew
after her.

The little woman stood in front of the last
door.

Olivia leaned behind her and turned the
handle. It didn’t open. “Catherine, open this door. Open this door
right this moment or I will have my coachman break it down.”

Olivia couldn’t fathom why Catherine was
being so reclusive. They were close relations and common friends.
Why wouldn’t Catherine see her? Especially as she had driven all
that way.