An Unnatural Daughter: A Dark Regency Mystery (19 page)

She’d spoken with a twinkle in her eyes and a smile on her face, but the words had worked, and I had jumped from my seat, eager to assuage my feelings of guilt.

It must have been months since I’d last gone to town. I used to – when I lived with Patrick, when I had gone every Tuesday with a strict list and the small amount of money we could spare. I would go only to the shops we required, speaking to nobody I wasn’t forced to by necessity, never dallying.

With Edwina things were different. Arm in arm, we strolled down the road from which Peregrine had watched the house, as Edwina chattered about this and that and people we might see, and past deals she’d managed to wheedle and flirt out of some of the male shopkeepers. She couldn’t entirely distract me from noticing that we were retracing much of the route I had taken on the night I had first tried to kill Gabriel.

Only twenty minutes after we had set out, the town came into view. Once we had filtered through the cottages we came upon the main street, a wide dust road edged with shops. At the far end I could see a patch of grass, edged with trees and home to a large pond and many ducks.

I was surprised at how close we were to what seemed to me to be a metropolitan hub, although Edwina assured me that it was,

‘Quite shockingly small, although the haberdashers is decent, I daresay. But what I wouldn’t give for a larger butcher’s!’

All through my pain and indecision, my sin and my repentance, I had been so close to this town and had known little of its existence. Yet here it had been, its occupants continuing with their lives, neither knowing nor caring what had been happening to me, or going on in my mind.

It was a shock to me, lately so quiet, to be surrounded by so many people. My stomach seized with fear, and I longed for a looking glass, just so I could be sure there was nothing in my face that marked me out, and showed all these strangers what I had done. When we met acquaintances of Edwina’s, as we did every few minutes, she would breezily introduce me as the daughter of an old friend who was staying with her, before distracting them with enquiries about their own health and family.

It struck me anew that everyone was far more interested in themselves and their own news than anyone else’s. Of course it went without saying that they’d be most interested to find a murderer in their midst, but at a glance, I must have seemed uninteresting. I was just a girl. It was a heady sensation. I began to enjoy myself a little, surrounded by bustle, all those people with baskets over their arms, planning meals, wondering how far their money would go. They didn’t know what had happened to Gabriel, and they didn’t care. Perhaps they had gossiped about it for a day or two over dinner when they had first heard, but these normal people didn’t really care. Their lives had gone on.

Gabriel had died, and as will be the sad case for most of us, he was quickly forgotten. He would live on in the heart of his mother, the memories of those he had wronged and scared, and in my conscience, but for the most part, he was finished. His reign had ended, and nobody in the wider world really cared.

I didn’t have any money of my own, but I enjoyed shopping with Edwina, standing to one side as she bartered and chatted over her purchases. The haberdasher was the best place, and while Edwina ummed and aahed over the price of muslin, I allowed myself to be lost in a sea of silks, lace and, best of all, feathers dyed in a variety of improbable colours. I started to think of dresses I would like to wear, that I could ask Edwina to help me make up if I had a little money of my own. I allowed myself to think of the future as I hadn’t been able to; a possible future rather than any imagined fantasy where I married Tristan.

‘Mrs Hudson!’

I peeped out from between bolts of lavender and puce velvet, and spied Damien’s mother enthusiastically greeting a lady of a similarly small and rotund stature. I edged back slightly. She now knew, of course, who I was and what I had done, and while she had embraced me and sworn her undying affection at the time, I was a little nervous to meet her in the company of strangers. I was about to step away to take another look at those feathers when they began to chat.

‘I heard your son was in the area, Rebecca. How is he these days?’

‘Ah yes, he did come and visit not two days ago – he couldn’t stay, unfortunately – you know how he is – he must always be doing something.’

‘And is he still with the Navy?’

‘No, thank heavens. Now the war’s over he says there’s no more to be done. Which is a relief to me, as you can imagine.’

‘Oh yes, it must be a great relief. What is he doing instead?’

‘This and that – he says he’s considering Europe – keeps going on about America too.’

I could feel rather than see Mrs Hudson’s pursed lips, and my heart ached a little.

‘Is he not going to settle down and start a family – my daughter, you know-’

‘He is young yet,’ Mrs Hudson interrupted, and I was glad. ‘And if he must wander off like this, better he does it now than when he’s a wife at home.’

‘A wife could be a steadying influence,’ the friend persevered, and I disliked her intensely. ‘Then perhaps you’d have him home more often. We must introduce them next time he’s back – did he say he’d be visiting again soon?’

‘No, no, he didn’t say. But then he never does, does he? I doubt I’ll see him before Christmas, and probably not for at least a few months beyond that.’

Edwina called me then, and I was glad to leave, glad to stop eavesdropping and most of all, glad to stop irrationally disliking strange ladies who wanted Damien to marry their daughters. It would take a little longer to reconcile myself to not seeing Damien again for almost a year.

As time passed, I realised that much of what I had felt in the aftermath of Gabriel’s death had also been shock at discovering my parentage. My life had been a lie. I was the product of incest, a child of rape, an aberration. My only consolation was that my courses had returned. I had sagged against the wall, my rag clutched in my hand, staring in disbelief. I had felt sheer, pure, unadulterated joy for a long moment. I wasn’t carrying my father’s child.

On the same day, I was surprised to receive a letter from London, the address written in flowery hand I didn’t recognise. It was from a lawyer, informing me that I was a very rich woman. There would be no contest from Mrs Raynor. On the agreement that she would keep the house, and profit from all Gabriel’s business ventures, I would be awarded a lump sum of ten thousand pounds, then a further three thousand pounds every year until my death.

The letter troubled me. I could hardly bear to touch it. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want anything to do with it. Yet part of me, in that small place in my mind that had listened to Damien before he left, and that remembered vividly everything Gabriel had done, told me I deserved it. That I had earned it. So I folded the letter away, and tried to forget about it.

CHAPTER 25

In Sickness & In Health

It had taken a lot of time but I had almost overcome the weeds that had taken hold of the borders. I felt some form of closure, and it seemed to mark the end of the uncertainty in my life. Now the care of the garden revolved around general upkeep, and as autumn was on the way, there were leaves to pick up for composting, which kept me plenty busy. It was with leaves in my hair, mud on my apron and a rake in my hand that Tristan found me, one afternoon about two months after Gabriel’s death.

He had his sketchbook in his hand, and my heart sank. As the weather had dulled, he seemed to glow less, and on this soggy, overcast day when everything was dark with damp, he seemed very normal. The longer I had known him, the less his beauty seemed to dazzle me.

‘That looks like messy work,’ he said, hovering uncertainly a few metres away from me.

‘It is a little,’ I said with a smile, trying to imagine him engaged in such an activity. I found I couldn’t. ‘What are you doing?’

It came out sounding accusatory, and Tristan looked a little put out.

‘Oh, this and that. Painting, really.’

Thinking about it, I hadn’t seen Tristan out of his studio very much for several weeks.

‘Are you working on something new?’

‘No.’ Tristan looked flushed and a little embarrassed.

‘You’re still working on the nature picture? Why didn’t you say? Did you have all the drawings you needed? That is – if you’re still using me.’

‘Oh yes,’ Tristan nodded. ‘Well, that is, you didn’t seem like you’d really like to sit for me, over the past few weeks since – you know. So I decided to try and crack on.’

‘Ah.’ I felt awkward just standing there, so bent over and began raking again. ‘Has it turned out well?’

‘I think so. One hesitates to speak well of one’s own work, but yes, I’m pleased with it so far. Not finished of course.’

‘Ah. Are you-’ I gestured at the sketchbook he was holding. ‘Are you wanting me to sit for you?’

‘Erm, maybe. I don’t know if you want to. You hadn’t wanted to before, I thought. That was the impression I got, but I was glad you did it anyway. I can be a bit selfish I’m afraid, where work’s concerned. If it has to be done for the painting to be right, then it has to be done and that’s all there is to it, as far as I’m concerned. In general, anyway.’

‘But not recently?’

‘No.’ Tristan looked flushed, despite the cool afternoon air. ‘You weren’t very happy, were you? After it happened. But you seem much better now. At least, you seem as though you’re feeling better.’

‘Oh, I see what you mean. I wasn’t very happy, was I?’

‘But you’re feeling better now? Or starting to?’ He peered at me shyly, and I paused in my work, leaning on the rake and giving him my full attention. He seemed to care so much, I felt that I had to.

‘I think so. It’s time. Heals everything, don’t they say?’

He gave a slight smile, just a quirk of the lips. He looked very serious.

‘I never spoke to you – we’ve never mentioned it, about what happened that day. What you did.’

‘Well, I-’

‘I didn’t think you’d want to,’ he barrelled on. ‘You seemed to want to be alone all the time, which was fine, and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to talk about it. I wasn’t sure what you wanted to hear. I think you must have spoken to Damien. I saw him sitting with you.’

I took a slight exception to the tone of his voice as he mentioned Damien, but he kept talking and I had no choice but to listen, short of just dropping the rake and walking away. I started raking again and hoped he would take the hint.

‘But since he left you seem to have got better, at any rate. Time, as you say. So I think I should tell you now, just how marvellous I think it all was.’

‘Really? Marvellous?’

‘It felt like absolution for Cassie. You made it better. Not really better, but a bit better, at any rate. He’s not here anymore. He hasn’t won any more. And it’s all because of you. I should have done it myself, probably, but then Damien was going to and I never thought – but I mean, Gabriel put you through it, too. And not just you and Cassie, I suppose, but your mother as well, and it just seems like everything has come full circle.

‘I’m making a bit of a mull about this, aren’t I? It’s only that I wanted you to know that I think what you did was a good thing. And I’m proud of you. You’re strong, Fleur, and you haven’t been feeling that I think, but you really are. Stronger than Cassie, and stronger than me. And I admire you for it.’

I shifted uneasily.

‘The thing is, Tristan, that however you dress it up and whatever you think, I killed someone, and that’s horrible. I don’t want you to congratulate me. When I shot Gabriel, I did it without thinking. I had the gun in my hand then he was dead. I don’t even remember firing the shot.’

‘But I-’

‘When I arrived here, I was scared out of my wits and I pretended I’d lost my memory because I didn’t want to tell you what I’d done. I didn’t want anyone to know I’d killed Gabriel. It happened. It was an impulse I couldn’t remember even having. It was a part of me that I couldn’t understand and it scares me that I’m capable of doing that.’

‘He deserved it. You were protecting yourself.’

‘That’s not really the point, Tristan. I didn’t plan to do it and I didn’t want to do it. There’s an evil inside of me and I’m scared. You’ve never killed anyone, you don’t know what it feels like. Please don’t laud me because of it.’

Tristan looked abashed for a moment, but only a moment. 

‘You can’t stop me from thinking you’re wonderful, you know. I’ve thought it since you arrived.’

‘No, pl-’

‘It’s true. And you’re wrong you know. You are strong and you killed him because you knew, inside, without even realising that it was what needed to be done. Damien wouldn’t have got there in time, perhaps he wouldn’t even have done it, we just don’t know.

‘It wasn’t just you who wanted him dead and it wasn’t just the people in this house. Gabriel had enemies all over the place. His past is littered with people whose only complaints over his death are that it took so long coming and that they didn’t get the pleasure of doing it themselves.’

‘It doesn’t make me happy knowing that. I’m scared, Tristan, of what’s going to happen to me. When I die-’

‘You’ll be safe, I swear it. You killed him because you should have. You’re like an angel, Fleur. It’s like you were sent here to avenge us all. And I will protect you, from anything, even hell.’

He was like a boy, straining forward towards me with every word, emphatic and entirely convinced that he was right. His enthusiasm should have scared me, perhaps, but I couldn’t see him carrying through any of his promises. That he would protect me, long, slender, pale Tristan, seemed laughable. But then, who knew what we were all capable of.

‘You don’t know what you’re saying. I barely know what to think myself of everything that happened. It’s a struggle to come to terms with. Those days before, when we all sat down at the table and planned Gabriel’s death, it seems like a dream.’

‘He deserved it, you must believe it.’

‘I think I do. But I did it. And I’m scared of myself.’

That was the crux of it, I realised. I was an abomination in the eyes of the world. A child of incest. Hell beckoned me, surely, for my birth alone. As the offspring of an evil, corrupted heart with an evil, corrupted intent, could I stop myself from reacting when evil beckoned? I was little like my mother in looks, and it was my father I took after. I could see his face in my features now, the long nose, the high forehead and the dark, straight hair. Even my lips were his. I shuddered to myself there in the garden, as Tristan watched me, refusing to understand that he was wrong.

‘You’re cold,’ he said.

‘No, I’m just…’

‘Let me look after you,’ he said softly.

‘Tristan,’ I said imploringly, ‘if the last weeks have told us anything it’s that, when forced, I’m more than capable of looking after myself.’

‘I can make you happy, I swear it. You want to stay here anyway, don’t you? And you like me. I can tell you like me, at least a little.’

‘I do, I like you and Edwina. Of course I do.’

‘But you like me more, don’t you? I saw you looking at me sometimes, when we’ve sat together. I’m not unattractive. And you kissed me. You must remember. I can’t forget.’

‘It really isn’t a matter of-’

‘And I don’t care who your parents are. I mean, it isn’t ideal, but it wasn’t ideal when Cass and I were engaged, because she was my best friend’s sister.’

‘This is hardly the same.’

‘It doesn’t matter to me.’

He sounded so sincere and I think he truly believed what he was saying, but it was impossible.

‘But it ought to matter. If I had been the daughter or the wife of the man who killed Cassie that would be reason enough for us not to be together. But I am both. Don’t you see?’

‘None of that changes anything. I liked you before we knew what Gabriel had done. I’ve liked you more and more all the time, and it’s breaking my heart to see you so sad. I want to look after you. I wish you’d let me.’

He looked so sad, but not once had he reached out to me and I was glad. I put the rake between us, hiding behind it. The air around me seemed to bristle and my skin crawled. With every word he spoke I was aware more and more that I was unclean.

‘I like you so much, Tristan. But I can’t be with anybody. I can’t marry anybody, it wouldn’t be fair. I can never have children, because I can’t pass this on. There’s something living inside me, something unnatural. It just wouldn’t be fair.’

‘Fleur,’ his voice was cajoling, and my heart broke. My mind was working properly again now, and it was true. I could never have children. I wasn’t meant to exist.

‘I think I’m fully awake, Tristan, for the first time since it happened. I don’t deserve your feelings and I can’t accept them.’

‘I’d marry you,’ he said.

‘I can’t marry you. I’m sorry, Tristan.’

He shook his head and began to slowly walk away.

‘I’ll not give up,’ he said.