Sandra Heath (3 page)

Meanwhile, Charlotte had also glanced at Henrietta’s ring. The wedding at St. George’s, Hanover Square, would be a social highlight of the season. It was a shame the bridegroom was so unworthy! She fixed Henrietta with a gimlet gaze. “This seems as appropriate a time as any to say my piece. If you bow to your parents’ wishes and marry Sutherton, you’ll be throwing yourself away on one of England’s most cynical, heartless, and
impoverished
creatures. Impoverished by his own squandering nature, I might add. He is an incorrigible gambler, and there isn’t a gaming hell in London that hasn’t set duns on his trail! I’m mightily relieved he didn’t accompany you here, for to be sure he’d have tried to fleece most of my guests by now.”

Henrietta flushed. “Please don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth, Henrietta. He’s completely the wrong man for you, as I thought you well knew when you turned him down originally. Why you changed your mind and accepted him after all is quite beyond my understanding.”

Henrietta looked away. There were things her friend did not know, things
no one
knew. When George first approached her parents, they had been eager to see her married to such an ancient title, but because she shared Charlotte’s opinion of him, and because she had foolishly loved another at the time, she had defied them by refusing. Then George had saved her from humiliation and scandal on a scale of which she did not dare to think, and on learning of the parlous slate of his finances, she felt she owed it to him to change her mind regarding the match. She toyed with her fan. “Charlotte, I know George has faults, but then so do I.”

“You?
My dearest Henrietta, your only fault is that you are too trusting.”

“If you say much more, you and I shall fall out.”

An atmosphere had descended over the two young women on the sofa, but then Charlotte gave a quick smile. “Look, ignore my carping; it’s probably due entirely to my condition. Being this much with child makes one snappish.”

Henrietta raised an eyebrow. “The only person you are snappish with is Amabel.”

“Perhaps because I really can’t understand why you have suddenly taken up with her again after all these years. It’s been a long time
since school.” There was more than a hint of jealousy in Charlotte’s tone.

“Well, we’d encountered each other on several occasions over the years, but then about a month before I left to come here, she called upon me. We got on famously, and when she told me how she longed to be reconciled with you, well, I—I just asked her to join me.”

Charlotte’s strong feelings on the matter were written large on her face. “Longed to be reconciled? I would as soon trust Beelzebub as that sly
chienne.
She and I have loathed each other since our first meeting at school. In plain language, Amabel Lyons was a spiteful, conniving miss, and Amabel Renchester is now a spiteful, conniving widow!”

“Maybe she
was
a little, er, difficult at school, but she was an orphan, and very much ill at ease,” Henrietta reminded her.

“There are orphans and there are orphans, and Amabel had been taken in by a good, loving
émigré
family here in England, so didn’t want for anything, except manners and amiability. As for her unbelievable airs and graces
now
!
To hear her at dinner on Christmas Day was to think she must be the most ardent and noble-minded French royalist in all creation! All that talk of spending her early years at Versailles, and of having poor Queen Marie Antoinette as a godmother! Why have we never heard of it before? I vow there was not a single mention of it at school.”

Henrietta shifted uncomfortably. “If I’d known your antagonism toward her went so deep, I would never have brought her with me. But she pleaded and pleaded because she was so very anxious to make up, and you
had
said I could bring a guest, so I really thought all would be well.”

“If making up was indeed her real reason for coming here, I’ll eat every one of Russell’s hats!”

“Why do you
insist
on disliking her? People change, and the Amabel we knew at school is no more. I admit she was a little tedious on Christmas Day, but on the whole she is sweet-natured, witty, and excellent company. And don’t forget how much odium she had to endure because of her late husband’s treasonous activities in the Peninsula.” Henrietta lowered her eyes, for the treachery of Major Renchester had been a terrible scandal. A much decorated hero, it had been discovered that he’d been betraying secrets to the French. If he hadn’t been found dead in his bed, of shame and fear it was said, he would certainly have been shot for a traitor. Amabel had adored him, even to the extent of accompanying him to Spain. Her shock and distress on learning the truth had been immeasurable.

“Russell knew Major Renchester and still refuses to believe he was guilty as charged. As for Amabel’s claims to have been the shocked, grieving widow, I find it strange she discarded black within
days
of returning to London.”

“As she said on Christmas Day, she was devastated that he had secretly supported the French Republic. His treachery destroyed her love.”

“Hmm.” Charlotte’s lips twitched disbelievingly.

“Oh, come now, Charlotte, Amabel isn’t a monster! She could not have been more concerned and caring on the cliff this morning when I fell.”

“She probably pushed you in the first place.”

“‘Charlotte, you can’t say things like that!”

Charlotte became a little contrite. “I know, and I’m sorry. Forgive me. I concede that she
was
admirable this morning.”

“Yes, she was. That’s what she’s like now. Charlotte.”

A thousand and one nuances passed over Charlotte’s face, but then she shrugged. “You’re entitled to your opinion, but as far as I’m concerned, there will always be something nasty about her. A whiff of sulfur, if you like.”

A chill sensation passed over the eavesdropping ghosts.

Chapter Three

Henrietta was dismayed. “A whiff of sulfur? Oh, for heaven’s sake, Charlotte!”

Charlotte suddenly reacted vehemently. “Henrietta Courtenay, there are times when I could shake you! You are my dearest friend, but I have to say your judgment is hopeless! You cleave to the likes of Sutherton and Amabel Renchester, yet declare yourself full of loathing for poor Marcus, whose only crime is being a Fitzpaine!”

Now it was Henrietta’s turn to react hotly, and the wraiths sensed the lightning in her lavender eyes.
“Poor
Marcus?”

Charlotte pursed her lips. “My, my, it would seem even to mention the Marquess of Rothwell inflames your temper.”

“He treated me most basely, but then I suppose it’s what a Courtenay should expect of a Fitzpaine.”

Charlotte groaned. “Oh, spare me the endless feud. Far be it from me to ask, but can anyone actually recall what started it all?”

“The Fitzpaines behaved abominably toward us in the time of Queen Anne,” Henrietta replied.

“This is the same boring stock answer one hears from them, except that they, of course, insist it was the Courtenays who behaved abominably.”

“Well, the Fitzpaines would, wouldn’t they?”

Charlotte studied her. “What, exactly, did Marcus do that was so heinous? All you’ve ever said is that his conduct toward you was base. What happened?”

“I—I’d rather not say.” Henrietta colored agitatedly.

“Oh, Henrietta, surely after all this time you know you can trust me?”

Henrietta hesitated. She hadn’t revealed to a soul the extent of what happened, and it would be so good to unburden it just this once. Especially to Charlotte. “If—if I tell you, you must
promise
faithfully not to divulge a word to anyone, not even Russell.”

“I’m not given to spreading other people’s secrets, as you well know.”

Henrietta smiled apologetically. “Yes, I do know, it’s just that my personal conduct was so very remiss, that I could not bear it if anyone found out. It was last year, just after he’d returned from six years in the West Indies....”

“Seven,” Charlotte corrected.

“All right, seven. Suffice it that I didn’t know who he was, because when he left England, you and I were still at school in Bath. That aside, it was just after I had turned down George’s first proposal of marriage. My parents had been called away to my sick aunt, and I attended a masked ball at Devonshire House. I really shouldn’t have gone alone, but I’ve always loved masked balls, and the invitation had been accepted by my parents before my aunt fell ill. Anyway, Marcus singled me out, and was so gallant and attentive that I suppose I was flattered.” Henrietta paused, for there was much she still wasn’t saying. Her cheeks were very pink and shame shaded her eyes as she went on. “He pressed me to ride in Hyde Park the next day so we could meet again, and then to attend the theater in order to see him again. I was foolish enough to agree. I’m afraid I was so completely gulled that—that...”

“Yes?” Charlotte waited with bated breath.

Henrietta raised guilty eyes. “I allowed him to kiss me.”

“In the middle of Hyde park?” Charlotte’s eyes were like saucers, for few places in London were more open to the full gaze of society.

Henrietta blushed with mortification. “Yes,
and
in the passage behind the boxes at Drury Lane, during the second act of
Romeo and Juliet.”

“Oh, Henrietta! I can’t believe you conducted yourself so wantonly!” Charlotte was shocked.

“Hush, for this must remain a secret.” Henrietta gazed anxiously toward the crowded floor.

“No one can hear.” Charlotte assured her, then drew a long breath. “Henrietta, what on earth possessed you? I’ve never known you to break a single rule, and now you regale me with a positive catalog of sins!”

“Please don’t, for I can hardly believe it myself.”

“If you reached the point of a kiss, surely you had by then discovered his identity?”

“He said his name was Mark Paynson.”

Charlotte’s lips twisted. “Paynson, Fitzpaine. How clever.”

“Yes, wasn’t it? Anyway, I was so happy for those few days. Indeed I believed I had met my true love, but then I received a visit from George.”

Charlotte’s eyes cleared. “Ah, I might have guessed Sutherton’s cunning shadow would soon fall across things.”

“George’s motives were noble, Charlotte.”

“Hmm.”

“They were! He had come direct from White’s, where, according to the betting book, a great deal of money hung upon whether or not Marcus could seduce me! I was supposed to meet Marcus again that night at a concert in the Hanover Square Rooms, but instead I sent a footman to inform him I no longer wished to have anything to do with him. That was the last I heard, and I was so grateful to George, that I felt obliged to help him in turn by enabling him to settle his debts. There, now you have the reason why I’m going to become Lady Sutherton.”

For a long moment Charlotte was speechless, but at last she recovered. “Well, I’d never have expected such things of you, Henrietta! Clandestine meetings and stolen kisses? However, such a despicable wager doesn’t sound like the Marcus Fitzpaine I know.”

“Charlotte, he masqueraded as Mark Paynson!”

Charlotte put out a quick hand. “Even though he flew false colors, you may be sure his heart was genuine. The Marcus I know would soon have revealed the truth about himself, and if he were here at Mulborough right now, I’d confront him in the certain knowledge he’d confirm my faith in him. However, the fact that Sutherton
figures so prominently in the scheme of things makes me very suspicious. He’d been pursuing your fortune for some time, but you’d turned him down, so he had to resort to foul means. Mark my words. There was never a bet at White’s. Somehow dear George found out you were meeting Marcus, and his sole motive was to prevent you—and thus your fortune—from going to another.”

“Defend Marcus if you will, but I was humiliated at his hands, and I would have suffered a public shaming if his shabby wager had not been revealed. I tell you, Charlotte, this year I came to Mulborough in trepidation, because he might be here too. If you only
knew
how relieved I’ve been that he and his wretched schooner are in Scotland.”

“The
Avalon
is a sloop, the swiftest quarterdecked ship-sloop in England, to be absolutely accurate,” Charlotte said quietly, thinking of the sleek, magnificently ornamented vessel that made the Marquess of Rothwell the envy of Cowes.

“I wish it were a rotten pail with a hole in the bottom!” Henrietta snapped.

The conversation trailed into a long awkward silence, then Charlotte gave a sheepish smile. “We’re on the brink of a horrid quarrel, aren’t we?”

Henrietta met her eyes for a moment, and then smiled too. “Not if we speak of something less contentious.”

At that moment the lady and gentleman who’d been on the staircase passed by. They were perambulating the entire ballroom, and Rowley, whose yearnings never failed when it came to sugared almonds, whined again. This time the brief sound was lost to the lady amid the noise of the ball, but it carried clearly enough to Henrietta, who turned sharply. Her eyes widened and her unfinished glass of champagne slipped from her fingers as she saw two hazy, transparent figures standing behind her.

Jane and Kit were thunderstruck to realize they were visible to her. It was the first time in their hundred years that such a thing had happened. Jane was thoroughly shaken. “Oh, Kit, she can see us!” she cried.

Kit regained his wits. “Come, Jane!” he cried, snatching her hand with the intention of disappearing through the wall behind the sofa onto the cliff terrace outside. Jane just had time to hastily put Rowley down on the floor before she and Kit fled through the wall.

Yelping in alarm, the spaniel made for a nearby arched doorway. In his panic he dashed along the ballroom wall, about six feet up from the floor. Henrietta watched until he disappeared from view into the fifteenth-century cloisters, which allowed access to the terrace.

Charlotte, who had heard and seen nothing at all, sat anxiously forward. “Oh, Henrietta, your champagne has splashed your hem! Whatever is wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”