Anne O'Brien (27 page)

‘Yes.’

‘What does Joshua say?’

‘He denies it.’ Sarah blotted a stray tear with her satin glove. ‘But I would expect no other.’

‘Well. I suppose he would. In my experience, gentlemen do not enjoy having to admit to faults and failings.’ Thea thought for a long moment, eyes narrowed on the golden bubbles remaining in her glass. ‘In my opinion, there is only one thing to do. Ask the lady.’

‘I can’t do that!’

‘Well, I would if I found a portrait of an attractive woman in Nick’s attic at Aymestry and then found him kissing her.’

‘Well…put like that…’

‘Especially if, through marriage, they were my attics too…’

‘I suppose…’

‘Come along. There is nothing to be gained by dwelling on the unknown and the unknowable. We will find out what we can.’ Thea took her sister in hand, very much the diplomat’s daughter. Sir Hector Wooton-Devereux, she decided, would have been proud of her. ‘I will come with you. All we need is the opportunity to speak to your dark lady alone…’

The opportunity presented itself only a little later in the evening when groups of people began to make their way into the banqueting room, laid out for a light supper. For a brief moment the dark lady was seen to be alone, separated from her escort. Sarah with commendable courage and considerable outrage made her way across the ballroom in that direction. Theodora would have followed, but her path was blocked by a familiar figure.

‘Theodora—I know what she is about. In God’s name, stop her.’

Theodora looked up at the striking Faringdon face, trou
bled by a range of emotions she could not even guess at. She could not help but allow her heart to soften. The difficulties might be of his making, but she found herself prepared to give him far more sympathy than had her husband. Such was the Faringdon charm, she supposed, although there was little evidence of it at present in the stern expression.

‘I doubt that I can.’

‘It would be better for all.’

‘Are you sure of that?’

‘No. I am not sure of anything at this juncture.’

‘Well, I am. I don’t know what you told Sarah and I don’t know what the truth is, but at the moment she thinks the worst of you!’

‘I know it.’

‘Tell her the truth, Sher,’ urged Thea, deliberately picking up Nick’s affectionate family name. ‘It cannot be worse than Sarah believing what she does, and Sarah can deal with the truth. Better than lies and charades. We had too many of those in the Baxendale family to accept them with any degree of comfort.’ As she remembered her own attempts to hide her Baxendale connections from Nicholas. What a disaster that had been.

Theodora patted his hand and followed her sister to discover the truth.

Sarah had approached the dark lady and come to a halt beside her.

‘Madame. Forgive the intrusion, but I would beg a few words with you.’

‘Do I know you?’ The lady appeared surprised, but not unfriendly.

‘No, you do not. I am Sarah, wife of Lord Joshua Faringdon.’

‘Ah.’ The straight dark brows rose with some hauteur, but there was a distinct sparkle in the lady’s eyes.

‘So I think you know
of
me,’ Sarah prompted.

‘I do indeed…’ The lady inclined her head. ‘I am the Marquise de Villeroi.’

‘Yes… I mean….’
What do I say now? Are you my husband’s mistress?
Sarah discovered the dangers in Thea’s plan to confront the lady. But as she became aware of Thea’s presence beside her, she gathered all her courage and used the only possible opening. ‘I wish, my lady, to know why your portrait is in the attic of my home in London.’

The Marquise smiled. But with no hint of shame or discomfort, or even of surprise. ‘That seems a perfectly reasonable request to me,’ she remarked. ‘I think that we should find a private corner where we might sit—and I will try to explain what I can.’

So the little anteroom was witness that night to a second fraught conversation. The ladies drew the enclosing curtains against any who might be tempted to seek out the private space, and sat on the delicate gilded seats.

‘Well, my lady…’ the Marquise took up the initiative immediately as she spread her skirts and disposed her gloved hands in her lap, before embarrassment could set in ‘…I did not know until tonight that Joshua had remarried.’

‘Yes.’ Sarah was not inclined toward trivial conversation. ‘Some weeks ago. But I would know—what are you to him?’

‘Sarah—may I call you Sarah?’ The lady lifted her hands in what could have been seen as a plea. The hauteur had vanished. Instead there was a warmth here, a depth of understanding, and not a little melancholy. ‘I presume that you and Joshua are at odds over this. I am sorry for it, for the blame is partly mine. I think it will solve all your problems if I tell you my name. I am Marianne.’

Sarah’s lips parted on a soundless ‘Oh’. Theodora’s fan paused in mid-sweep. The two ladies who heard the admission looked at each other in obvious astonishment.

‘I was Joshua’s wife, as you will be aware,’ the Marquise de Villeroi continued, amusement now curving her lips at the stunned silence that resulted.

‘We thought you were dead. The whole family believes you to be dead,’ Thea exclaimed.

‘Not so.’

‘We thought,’ Sarah added, still trying to order her wayward thoughts and come to terms with this development, ‘that perhaps you had been murdered. There have been rumours to that possibility. Murdered by Joshua himself!’

‘Never that!’ The Marquise laughed. ‘Murdered by Joshua? It is a suggestion quite nonsensical, is it not?’

Thea and Sarah again exchanged glances. ‘The family was given to believe—by Lord Joshua himself—that you were struck down by some virulent disease and buried here in France.’ Sarah frowned at the lady who sat before her, in no fashion discomfited, clearly in perfect health.

‘No. As you see. Our marriage ended when a divorce was arranged. Discreetly and to our mutual agreement.’

‘But why? Why the secrecy?’

The Marquise leaned forward to touch Sarah’s hand with fingers heavy with jewels. ‘Forgive me, my dear. That is not my secret to tell. You must ask Joshua. I think that he will tell you now that he knows that we have met.’

‘But why could he not tell me before? Why should he deceive his family? You cannot imagine the difficulties caused by the rumour that he was a murderer!’

‘I think I can.’ The Marquise increased the pressure of her hand on Sarah’s in eloquent sympathy. ‘But as for why he would not… It was, I think, to protect me. He is a man given to gallantry. Or perhaps he was simply under orders to keep silent concerning sensitive matters. We all know what it is like to be held at the whim of those who hold the reins, do we not?’ She shrugged elegantly, a particularly French gesture. ‘But now it no longer matters.’

‘I still do not understand,’ Sarah replied, as much in the dark as ever.

‘It is a complicated affair, a tapestry with many tangled
strands.’ The Marquise rose to her feet. ‘Tell Joshua to tell you the truth. Tell him that the truth can no longer hurt me. That I am no longer engaged in the activities I was before. Tell him, if you will, that my brother is dead. He will understand.’

‘Very well.’ A pause, then Sarah felt compelled to ask, ‘Did you love him, my lady?’

Her reply was immediate. ‘Oh, yes. He is so very handsome and so utterly charming—I could not have chosen a better husband, even if I had been given that freedom.’ She shook her head as if regretting her somewhat strange admission. ‘But Joshua will also explain about that too. As for the rest—it is all in the past. I have been married to Charles—the Marquis de Villeroi—for more than a year now. There is nothing between Lord Joshua and myself to concern you.’

The solemn gravity of the Marquise’s assurance brought another image into Sarah’s mind. The dark intensity was, of course, all Beth.

The Marquise smiled a little as if she read her thoughts. ‘Tell me of Celestine. It is the one aspect of this sorry and involved tale that I regret.’

‘She is well.’

‘Is she happy? I had to let my daughter go, you see. I was not allowed to see her. It was not thought to be desirable.’ For the first time in the conversation the lady’s composure was no longer secure.

‘Yes. She is happy. And she has found a friend in my son.’

‘That is good. Will you care for her? Love her for me? I know that Joshua will, but she will also need a mother’s care.’

‘I already do love her. She is growing fast. She is a true Faringdon, but her eyes are yours. Now that I know, I see it clearly. I did not see it in the portrait.’

‘No.’ The tension in the lady’s manner relaxed a little. ‘I think it was not a good likeness!’

They moved towards the archway and Thea drew back the drapes, letting in the world once more.

‘Shall we meet again?’ Sarah asked.

‘I do not know.’ And the Marquise made no promises. ‘But I am glad that we have done so. It has drawn a closure to something that should never have happened. I did not deal well with Joshua.’ She turned quickly and, to Sarah’s amazement, lightly kissed her cheek. ‘It has been my pleasure to know you, Lady Faringdon.’

And then she was gone.

‘What will you do?’ Thea raised her hand to attract Nicholas’s attention as they made their way back into the ballroom.

‘Ask Joshua, of course! But not here.’ Sarah frowned at the crowds that still thronged the reception, even at this late hour. If Joshua was still present, she had no knowledge of it. ‘I shall go home. It seems that there is still much to be explained.’ She thought for a moment or two, before adding softly, ‘And we both have some apologies to make.’

Sarah waited in her bedchamber for Joshua’s return. She deliberately divested herself of neither jewels nor the elegant aigrette in her hair. If this was to be a confrontation with her husband—which it undoubtedly was—Sarah decided that she would need all her confidence and dignity. Which would not be gained from donning a loose wrapper or unpinning her ringlets, despite the fact that it was long after midnight.

What in heaven’s name was this morass of deception in which she had suddenly found herself? The disclosures of the evening had been shattering. Not only had her husband not murdered his first wife, she had discovered that Marianne was not even dead, that she was very much alive and obviously finding some amusement in the whole incident. Why had Joshua lied so completely and so effectively, and for so many years? What could possibly have been the motive? And one dreadful suspicion invaded her mind, to the exclusion of all else, spurred on by events in her own past. Above anything, she needed to know the truth about the status of her own marriage.

Sarah had no answers. She paced the room, kicking her fashionable skirts with their flounced demi-train at the end of each perambulation, arms folded across her breast as if to hold back the emotions that threatened to spill out and destroy her intention to face this threat with stern control. Her patience grew thinner as the clock ticked on into the morning hours and the candles burned low.

But eventually she heard him tread the stairs. Open and close the door to his room from the corridor.

She waited no longer. This conversation would be on her terms and at the time of her choosing. Such as now! She flung open the door to the dressing room, stalked though, to open the next without even the briefest and most perfunctory of knocks and enter his room

He did not look surprised to see her. He stood in the centre of the floor, arms at his side, his outer calm apparently intact as always, but in his eyes a shadow of defencelessness. But she refused to allow sympathy to cloud her judgement here. Besides, he knew exactly why she had come there and initiated the subject himself before she could summon the appropriate words.

‘You have seen her and spoken with her.’

‘Of course I have!’

‘And you need an explanation from me. Of course you do.’ Although he stood perfectly straight, shoulders firm, as if braced to ward off her angry words, he looked weary to the bone. His face was set, devoid of any expression that might give some hint of his thoughts, but the grooves beside his mouth were deep. He looked as if he would rather be anywhere than facing his wife with the weight of untruths and mistakes between them. And the weight of duty and commitment to a self-imposed goal that would still prevent him from laying it all before her.

‘I think I have the right to demand an explanation. As does the rest of your family.’

‘Does Thea know?’

‘Yes. She was with me. And before you ask, I have no doubt that she will have informed Nicholas by now of every last detail. You cannot continue with this charade, Joshua. Whatever the reason for it.’

Without giving an answer, he unfastened the fob watch and chain at his waist, to place them gently on his dressing table, his back carefully toward her. Every movement deliberately controlled. Then he raised his head to watch her through the reflection in the mirror.

‘Yes—you need to know. Marianne, as was very evident tonight, is not dead.’

‘Are you still married to her?’ Sarah worked hard to keep her voice even. ‘Is my own position in this marriage quite legal?’

‘What?’ Despite her brave efforts, he caught the wavering note of panic in Sarah’s voice and instantly swung round. ‘Of course it is. What could you possibly think?’ He saw the drowning despair in her eyes for a moment until she hid the emotion with her lashes. ‘Oh, Sarah. My dear girl. I had forgotten. I would never commit an act so outrageous against you. There is no need to fear that your marriage has no basis in law.’ His instinct was to close the distance between them and draw her into his arms, but there were still too many deceits and half-truths creating a barrier between them. He remained where he was, willing her to believe him. It mattered more than life itself that she did not hate him enough, distrust him enough, to turn her back and walk out of the room. Perhaps even out of his life.

Sarah closed her eyes for a long moment as nauseating memories rushed back with all the pain of the past. The anguish of a bigamous marriage had played a crucial part in her brother’s devious plans against the Faringdon family, after all. But she fought back the fears, clinging to the remnants of her composure. She ran her tongue over dry lips, forcing her mind and voice to remain calm. ‘No. Of course not. Marianne told
me that you had been divorced. What I do not understand is why you did not tell the truth? Why did you continue with this masquerade for all this time? What would it matter if it was known that a divorce had been arranged between you?’ The questions followed one after the other. ‘It makes no sense!’