Author: Beverley Oakley
Category: Nonfiction
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Fanny had wondered the same thing. She also could see that Mrs Hodge was clearly tired of her responsibilities as Lizzy’s guardian and, no doubt, the combative air that must reign within the household. “I suppose Mrs Hodge wants to regain her life of comfort and independence as soon as she can. Lizzy is flighty and, I daresay, a trial to her. And, when Mr Dalgleish makes an effort, he is rather charming.”
“He’s dangerously charming.” Fenton smiled at his wife. “Oh well, I’m sure Lizzy and Dalgleish will work things out for themselves. No doubt Lizzy finds it thrilling and romantic to have two men fighting over her.” He stared across the water towards Quamby House. “Now, shall we turn back? Here, let me rug you up a little more warmly.”
Fanny closed her eyes and raised her face to the sky as Fenton arranged her shawl more closely about her.
She was glad tonight was the last night of the house party. While she enjoyed revelry and conversation, five days of it were trying.
“Warm enough?” Fenton put his arm more closely about her and held her close. An owl hooted somewhere high in the battlements, and when Fanny opened her eyes, the big full moon was almost dazzling; a great, waxy orb across whose surface the crenelated tower stood in sharp relief.
The mournful cry of a night jar made her shiver.
She was about to turn her footsteps for home when she saw movement up by the battlements.
“We should hurry, my love,” Fenton said as she hesitated. “We don’t want to vex your sister. You know how Antoinette likes you to join her to welcome the guests.
Fanny resisted as he put his hand on her elbow. She squinted, trying to make sense of the sight unfolding before her eyes.
“Come along, Fanny.”
“No, Fenton. Look. Do you see that?” Pointing, she took a step forwards. “I can’t make out what that is.”
Suddenly, it became clear. A woman, struggling with her skirts, was trying to climb up onto the battlements.
“Fenton!” Fanny gasped, gripping his forearm in alarm, and waving in the direction of this terrible sight. “Fenton! It’s a woman. Up there! Quickly! You must go to her! I think she’s going to jump!”
Fanny felt him leave her side while her gaze remained fixed on the woman. A tall, resolute figure, she balanced precariously on the very edge with a death’s leap to the cobbles below.
It was impossible to identify her, but as her hair blew about her face and her skirts whipped around her ankles, she remained impassive, like a statue—or a woman trying to summon the courage to do that most awful of actions and step into space to end her life.
Fanny didn’t know if she should call out, or if that would frighten the woman and precipitate what they were trying to prevent. She cast about for help and inspiration.
A quick calculation of the distance and difficulty Fenton would encounter in reaching the crumbling top storey of the castle was not encouraging. Fenton had a battle on his hands if he were to reach her in time to drag her back to safety, for the woman had settled herself into position and was now balanced precariously, dislodging some of the stonework as she raised her face to the sky.
Fanny decided she had to make a connection first. Picking up her skirts, she crossed the moss-covered, slippery courtyard towards the first flight of uneven slippery stairs. Her ankle turned, and she seized an overhanging tree branch to regain her balance, dislodging an owl that rose into the night sky with a flurry of wings and a mournful cry.
When she was close enough to be heard, she stood where she could be seen and called out, “Miss! Are you all right? Please…don’t jump!”
The woman moved slightly. It was a gesture that suggested a ratcheting up of determination, however she stopped when she heard Fanny’s voice.
Turning towards her, with her face half in shadow, she shook her head, mute, as if she knew not what she was doing.
Still, she made no attempt to climb back down to safety.
“We’re here to help you.” Fanny tried again, casting about for Fenton and realising with dismay that his attempts to reach the young woman had been thwarted. For, having chosen what appeared to be the most direct way, she could now see that part of the stairway had collapsed. She nodded to him, silently acknowledging his presence, and flicked a glance towards another fully intact staircase that approached from the west.
“Please stop, madam!” Fanny tried again, projecting her voice towards the woman. “Whatever has happened cannot be so terrible you’d want to do this.”
The woman brushed aside an errant strand of hair from her narrow, plain face and Fanny got her first proper glimpse of her, though she did not look at Fanny directly. “I have no choice.” Fanny struggled to hear her voice which drifted down to her in a thin thread of barely contained misery, as she went on, “There’s only shame for me on this earth.”
“But…there’s always the future. And that offers hope.” Fanny had never been at such a loss. Her words felt inadequate. The despair of the young woman seemed greater than any hope Fanny could offer her. “It’s Lady Conroy, isn’t it? Susan. Yes, of course. Mrs Hodge’s daughter. How could I not have known? It’s very dark but…you look so lovely in your gown of silver lutestring. Your mother…was saying only this evening how proud of you she was. Think how distraught she’d be.”
Fanny tried to think if Lady Conroy had children. If she could identify loved ones it might help.
“My mother would never have said such a thing.” The scorn in Susan’s tone was excoriating. “Proud?” Her voice grew in strength and volume. “She nearly died of shame when I almost ruined the family five years ago. All her efforts since then have been towards hushing that up. And now it’s about to be made public. My mother has never been proud of me.”
“Your husband, then. No, please think of how distraught your husband would be if you went ahead with this.” Fanny could see her words were having little effect. And Fenton was nowhere to be seen. Her mouth felt dry. If only she could reach Susan, herself.
“My husband?” Lady Conroy shifted as she threw up her hands, nearly missing her step but—Fanny was relieved to note—put a steadying palm onto the crumbling battlement so she could add, “Dear lord, he’d be over the moon with joy. Once he’d overcome the shame.”
“Shame? I’m sure you’re dwelling too much on what’s not important. Nothing is so important as to end your life over...” Fanny racked her brains over what might be so shameful and painful that this young woman would consider ending her life. And then she remembered that Sir Richard and Lady Conroy, who’d been married five years, were childless.
“Please, Lady Conroy, if it’s what I think it is—that you have no children—you must know that the husband is just as much to blame.”
Fanny could see confusion cross Lady Conroy’s face. Had she perhaps come to completely the wrong conclusion? She tried again. “Your childlessness could well be your husband’s fault. Not yours. Many fine marriages are childless.”
To Fanny’s shock and horror, Lady Conroy gave a bloodcurdling shriek of laughter. “My, but that is rich! Right now, my husband believes without a shadow of a doubt that I am to blame for our lack of children. But he’ll soon learn the truth. That I am indeed capable. He’ll soon learn of my shame.” She put her hands to her face and rocked perilously. “Unless Lizzy marries Harry Dalgleish, that is.”
Fanny felt the rough stone wall behind her as she stepped backwards in shock. What did Lizzy and Harry Dalgleish have to do with Lady Conroy and her woes? The woman had lost her mind. “I don’t know what you mean, Lady Conroy. Tell me! I can help you! Believe me, I have been where you are. I have suffered the greatest shame.” She needed to reassure her that a besmirched reputation could be survived. “You may even recall the scandal I endured for I married the year you did. And my reputation survived. Yours will, too! Tell me what it is you have done, and I’ll help you, Lady Conroy!” She summoned inspiration, then asked, “What do Lizzy and Mr Dalgleish have to do with this?”
She heard
Lady Conroy’s heavy breathing. Her struggle to speak once more, and then the hysterical note in her voice as she replied, “Everything and nothing! But tonight, I learned from my mother that unless Lizzy marries Mr Dalgleish, he’s going to tell the world about the child I had out of wedlock just months before I married Sir Richard.” She began to weep now, cupping her face with her hands as her distress manifested itself in distraught gulps. “My marriage is hard enough to bear as it is; do you imagine how intolerable it’s going to be after that becomes public?” The truth of this seemed to strengthen her resolve for suddenly she dropped her hands, straightened her shoulders, and put her palms against her skirts.
Alarm surged through Fanny, prompting her to say the first thing she now intuited was the most likely to stop Lady Conroy from stepping out into her last fatal drop.
“But it is all but assured that Lizzy and Mr Dalgleish will marry. Why, Lizzy is with him now, and I do believe he’s proposing this very moment.”
Lady Conroy shook her head. “Lizzy is in love with Mr McAlister. She shouldn’t marry where her heart is not engaged, but this afternoon I learned that my mother is forcing her. Just as she forced me to marry Sir Richard.” Her breath hitched before she went on, “Dear lord, I didn’t even know my child still lived until several hours ago when my mother told me…everything. It is too much. I can’t live with the knowledge that my crime will not only ensure that my own life is intolerable, but that Lizzy’s is too.” Lady Conroy sniffed, wiping her hand across her face before glaring across at Fanny.
Fanny darted a quick look behind her to check on Fenton’s progress. He’d had to circumnavigate the castle, half descending into the marshy moat in order to reach the staircase from the other side. Now, to her relief, she saw that he was on the bottom step of the worn stone steps that led to Lady Conroy.
“Please, Lady Conroy, just think…I’m sure...I’m sure Lizzy cares about you much too much, and you for her—”
Lady Conroy made what sounded like a snort of derision. “I don’t care particularly for Lizzy, and I know she’s always thought me a spineless creature. With good reason. But I know what love is, and I’d have died for it six years ago. Well, I’m dying for it now. For all that was ruined and lost. For my mother’s duplicity. She destroyed my life and now she’s destroying Lizzy’s. And she’s doing it through me.” She heaved in another breath. “I’m sorry, Lady Fenton. I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused, and the trouble I’m about to cause. But my life is no longer worth it. I just wish I could have helped Lizzy, though God knows I tried.”
“No!” screamed Fanny as Susan took a step out into the darkness. “Don’t do it!” She could see the silver spangles of Susan’s dress a blur as she reached out her hands in a futile attempt of doing what she was incapable of doing.
And then she heard another scream which she thought at first was Susan’s death cry as she made her fatal plunge. But when Fanny peered more closely into the gloom, she realised Fenton had reached the battlement in time—and was leaning over the edge. From his arm clung Lady Conroy, her hair wild about her shoulders, her gown swirling about her.
And although she hung perilously, she was gripping Fenton’s wrist with one hand, and the thick root of the tenacious ivy that hugged the edifice, with the other.
Chapter 23
Theo went through the motions of dressing, barely attending to anything.
The ball was due to start in two hours, and dinner was being served in the dining room.
He knew he couldn’t show his face where his battle scars would confirm his reputation with so many of the guests who’d avoided him, so he confined his restlessness to the Long Gallery. It was vast enough with sufficient screens and large statues offering sanctuary that he’d be unlikely to see anyone while he collected his thoughts.
The fire had gone out in his own bedchamber and the cold and gloom had become intolerable. He suspected the other guests were better attended to than he was. The initial welcome from Lady Quamby had been followed up by a distinct lack of enthusiasm, and he knew his presence was barely tolerated.
He shouldn’t have been surprised, of course. He had become used to it.
It would take a while for society to adjust to his new status as Amelia’s husband; the man who’d kidnapped yet another heiress on the way to her wedding.
“Theo!” At least there was someone who sounded pleased to see him. Smiling, he watched Amelia’s progress across the room. He was surprised she’d seen him in the dim light amidst the statues and sculptures.
“You’re dressed early,” he remarked. She looked prettier than he’d seen her in a white silk dress with a blue net overdress, her hair piled up in a fetching topknot that reminded him of Lizzy.
“I’m borrowing Miss Scott’s maid. Mrs Lemming is still not well. Which is a good thing.” She nibbled her fingernail, her thoughts obviously elsewhere just as Theo’s were—then suddenly cried out, “Theo! What happened to you?” adding, when he frowned in apparent confusion, “Your face! You’ve been fighting!” Her hand went to her breast and she stepped back.
“Why should you think that?” Theo glanced at his feet, weighing up what to say next when she added fiercely, “I know what fighting looks like! Good lord, you’re not one for fisticuffs; I know you well enough to be satisfied on that score. But—” She sucked in a breath. “You look exactly as you did after you returned from confronting Lord Leighton.” The blood drained visibly from her face as she whispered, “Pray, tell me what has happened. Don’t spare me the truth.”
Theo raked his fingers through his hair and glanced up to ensure they were still alone. “Gad, Amelia, I should not be telling you, but you know more of life than you should…” He scratched his ear. “Truth is, I stumbled upon Dalgleish trying to force himself upon Miss Scott—”
“No! Miss Scott?” She shook her head and said wonderingly, “Why, Mabel, her maid has been chattering to me for the past half an hour as she did my hair and she said nothing, though she’s been most forthcoming on many other scores.” She worried at her lower lip as if she might say something else, but Theo was too impatient to learn how Lizzy did. “Did she mention Miss Scott at all? By God, I wish I could say I did worse to Dalgleish than this.” Gingerly, he touched his swollen lip.
Amelia’s expression was a picture of concern. “Mabel said only that her mistress had retired to her chamber with a megrim—most unlike herself—until Mrs Hodge summoned her.”
“That woman,” Theo muttered, causing Amelia to raise her eyebrows but instead of remarking upon this, she added, “Mabel said she took some persuading to do Mrs Hodge’s bidding but she did, and for that reason she had come to attend to me early, and she hoped I didn’t mind.” Amelia stroked Theo’s lapel. “Poor Miss Scott. But now I’m worried for you. I hope there isn’t bad blood between you and Mr Dalgleish.”
“Why should that matter?” Theo asked, surprised. “You and I are running away tonight. We won’t see Dalgleish again.”
“But he’ll be the first to blacken your reputation when we return.”
“Return where, Amelia? To society?” He shook his head. “It won’t be safe to return for some time. You know what Leighton is likely to do. He’ll hunt me down; I have no doubt.”
Amelia made a small noise of protest. “Surely not, Theo! We’ll be safely married!”
Theo knew his smile was more grim than reassuring. “We will be married, but I’m not sure how safely. You know how vengeful he is. He’ll pursue me with his usual relentlessness, just as he did in the months after Catherine died. He only stopped when your uncle offered you in your sister’s stead.” Of course, he should be trying to soften the impact of his words, but he was weary. The blow to his head seemed to have affected him more than he’d realised.
“Theo, I…I’m so sorry.” She dropped her gaze. “I know you’ve suffered. I know how much you’ve suffered. It’s…why I hoped that what we are doing tonight might have been some atonement.”
�
��I all but killed your sister, Amelia!” Theo responded with energy. “If I hadn’t made the decisions I did, and left her alone at that inn, trying to elicit your uncle’s help because I knew how ill she was—yet not knowing she was on the verge of death…” He gulped in air, forcing himself to relive it all over again, “When I had no ready funds to convey her to where she’d get all the help she needed at the time. Do you know how much I reproach myself for that?”
“You didn’t know how utterly vile my uncle was, Theo. Or how much he was complicit in what happened to Catherine.” Amelia flung away from him and began to pace in the small area between a Byzantine sculpture and a Mongol statue in a suit of leather armour. “And you did what you could. You took her home to your household where she infected Jane. Your sister died.” Amelia wiped away a tear as she turned back to face Theo. “You lost your sister and your reputation because I begged you to go after Catherine and save her from Lord Leighton’s clutches. Do you know how heavily that sits on my shoulders?”
For a long moment they were silent, staring at each other. Finally, Theo managed a rueful smile as he put a hand on Amelia’s shoulder. He thought of Lizzy and her lively spirit all but crushed by Dalgleish. But at least he was confident she’d no longer marry the villain. There was comfort in knowing he’d helped ensure that no longer came to pass. But there was so much more for which he had to atone. “Guilt is a corrosive thing, Amelia,” he said. “Let’s try not to let it spoil our marriage. The coach-and-four will be waiting just inside the park gates. Can you meet me there at 9 p.m.?” Placing both hands on her shoulders, he kissed her brow. “That will be during the peak of the festivities during which little attention will be paid us, I trust.”
Chapter 24
Fanny felt strange and disoriented as she joined Fenton in the drawing room where her sister and Lord Quamby were already comfortably ensconced, drinking Madeira on a sofa near the fire.