Deception (Daughters of Mannerling 3) (12 page)

‘We have come to the conclusion,’ said Mr Devers heavily, ‘that Harry here has been more sinned against than sinning. I think he has had a lucky escape. There is quite obviously madness in the Beverley family.’

‘How dare you!’ said Lady Beverley, but her protest sounded weak.

‘I do not think we should bear the expense of a wedding which never took place,’ went on Mr Devers. ‘A wedding at which our son was so deeply hurt and shamed, too. So I am going to send you a bill for the expense, Lady Beverley.’

This, for Lady Beverley, was the final straw. She fainted dead away. Maids and footmen came running. The lady was restored to consciousness and then helped to her room.

‘I would be grateful,’ went on Mr Devers, ‘if you girls would take yourselves off and never set foot in this house again. As for you, Abigail Beverley, not only did you trick my poor son most shamefully but you were discovered in another man’s bed with your arms around his neck.’

And Lord Burfield found himself saying, as he looked at Abigail’s wretched face, ‘As to that, Miss Abigail and I will be married soon enough, and that should lay that particular scandal to rest.’

Everyone stared at him.

‘Yes, that is a very good idea,’ said Miss Trumble suddenly and decisively. ‘I shall go to see Lady Beverley immediately, Lord Burfield.’

He bowed and she hurried from the room.

‘I cannot . . .’ began Abigail, but he said, ‘Later, we will discuss this later. Go home and I will call on you. Go and pack, and my carriage will be waiting for you.’

Rachel, desperate to get out of the room, tugged at her twin’s arm.

When the sisters had packed and their luggage had been carried out to Lord Burfield’s carriage, a shaking Lady Beverley was then supported out to it by Miss Trumble. ‘I am coming back with you,’ said Miss Trumble. ‘Get in.’

It was a silent journey home, broken only by the muffled sobs of Lady Beverley.

When they arrived at Brookfield House, Barry came running out in the dawn light to meet them.

His face broke into a glad smile when he saw Miss Trumble, but the smile faded as he saw Rachel and her sisters descend from the carriage as well. ‘Rouse the maids, Barry,’ said Miss Trumble crisply. ‘You girls, get to bed immediately, except for you, Abigail. I shall see you in the parlour as soon as I have settled Lady Beverley.’

Abigail felt almost numb with shame and disgrace. Out there, like the dawning light, she knew the full enormity of what she had done was waiting to strike her with force. She sat down wearily in the parlour and removed her stylish bonnet, a dashing shako, put it on her lap and stared at it. It was a reminder of all her mother had spent on Rachel’s wardrobe so that she would be a bride worthy of Mannerling. Mannerling. The curse of the Beverleys.

She wanted to stay numb. The minute she started to ‘thaw,’ she knew she would begin to cry, to cry without stopping. How mature and confident she had felt only the day before. Now she felt young and childish and lost.

Barry came in and made up the fire. He turned to leave and looked as if he would like to say something, but at that moment the door opened and Miss Trumble came in. Barry nodded to her and left.

Miss Trumble sat down opposite Abigail and studied her gravely. ‘I am not going to berate you on your folly,’ she said. ‘I am here to talk sense to you about Lord Burfield. He is a fine man, a gentleman in the true sense of the word, and he is prepared to marry you.’

Abigail found her voice. ‘He cannot,’ she said. ‘He will always feel he has been coerced into marriage, and he will never forgive me.’

‘My child, you were already so deep in disgrace that he could easily have walked off and forgotten about you and no one would have blamed him. Why were you in his bed?’

‘I was running away from Harry. I ran into the first room. I was so frightened, I did not hesitate to see whether the room was occupied or not. I had regarded him as a friend. But I cannot marry him.’

‘Did anything happen between you and Harry? Are you still a virgin?’

‘Yes, I am still a virgin.’

‘Faith, I begin to feel sorry for the dreadful Harry.’

‘I cannot marry Lord Burfield,’ said Abigail again.

‘There is nothing else you can do. After the way you have behaved, no other man will ever want you. I do not know what will become of your poor sisters now. Go to bed and sleep as best you can. When Lord Burfield calls I suggest you accept prettily and be suitably grateful. I have spoken to Lady Beverley of this. If you turn Lord Burfield down you will be left here in Brookfield House with a very embittered mother.’

Abigail stared at her. Then the full impact of her monstrous behaviour finally struck her. She began to cry, her shoulders shaking, tears streaming down her face. She stood up to leave. Miss Trumble stood up as well and then moved forward and put her arms about the sobbing girl. She said nothing, merely held Abigail until the girl finally grew calmer. ‘Go, now,’ said Miss Trumble quietly, ‘I will be staying. Try to get some sleep. I will awake you when Lord Burfield arrives.’

Miss Trumble felt weary. She decided to have a few hours sleep herself. Her bags had been carried up to her old room. But before she retired, she decided to have a word with Barry. He had not gone back to bed but was out in the stable, talking to the horse, a habit he had when he was upset. ‘Oh, miss,’ he cried when he saw her. ‘What happened?’

Miss Trumble sat down on a bale of hay and looked up at him. ‘Rachel felt she could not go through with the wedding. By that time, the girls were back in the grip of Mannerling, and so Abigail took her place.’

‘Oh, fan me, ye winds!’

‘Quite. Abigail had some mad idea perhaps that she could get Harry to marry her properly, for she was wed under Rachel’s name, and all would be well. But her introduction to the marriage bed, fortunately for her only the introduction, scared her witless and she ran straight into Lord Burfield’s bed, where she was discovered wrapped around him.’

‘Ruin and damnation. This will be a household of spinsters, shunned by all.’

‘There is one bright spot on the horizon, Barry. Lord Burfield is to call this day to make a formal proposal of marriage to Abigail.’

Barry looked at her doubtfully. ‘A gentlemanly thing to do, but he will make a most reluctant bridegroom.’

‘I think not. I think he is much taken with Abigail. It was not his fault that she threw herself into his bed. He had no reason to do anything at all.’

‘But what will become of the others?’

‘We will see. Now I think I should get a little sleep.’

‘Are you home again, miss?’

Miss Trumble gave a wry little smile. ‘Yes, home again.’

Abigail awoke when Miss Trumble shook her by the shoulder. ‘Lord Burfield is called,’ said Miss Trumble. ‘Rouse yourself. Betty is here to help you dress. Choose one of Rachel’s prettiest gowns. You may as well adopt her trousseau.’

‘I cannot face him,’ said Abigail.

‘Don’t be silly. Up with you.’

Abigail climbed out of bed and allowed herself to be washed and dressed.

Her golden curls were brushed until they shone. In a gown of blue muslin with three flounces at the hem and with a white muslin pelisse over it, she was finally declared fit to descend and meet her suitor. ‘Your mama is resting,’ said Miss Trumble. ‘I will leave you alone with Lord Burfield for ten minutes.’

‘Oh, do not leave me,’ cried Abigail. ‘I do not want to be alone with him.’

‘Don’t be silly. This is not Harry Devers, this is a gentleman.’ She gave the reluctant Abigail a little push into the parlour and then left.

Lord Burfield looked down at Abigail, who stood before him, her head hanging.

She found her voice, which came out in a sort of rusty whisper. ‘I am so sorry. You need not do this.’

‘I am well aware of it. But it might serve very well. I want a wife and I am weary of looking for one; you need to restore your reputation. Please be seated and hear what I have to propose.’

Abigail sat down. There was a great black weight of misery in her stomach.

‘You and your family will travel to London, to my house in Park Street. My aunt, Mrs Brochard, will be in residence. We will be married quietly by special license. We will go about socially and you and your sisters will look beautiful, radiant, and confident. The scandal will have reached London before us, but you will receive many invitations from the curious. If I am right, sooner or later Harry Devers will disgrace himself in such a way as to restore your good name. At the moment, even I can find it in my heart to be sorry for him.’

‘You are being coerced into marriage,’ said Abigail.

‘Not I. As far as the intimacies of the marriage bed are concerned, that must be your choice. You must come to me. In the near future, we will get to know each other better.’

Abigail sat for a moment in silence. Then the full generosity of his offer struck her. They would all be in London, with places to see and theatres to visit instead of sitting, hiding in the country, scorned by all.

‘I accept,’ she said in a small voice.

‘I thought you might. Now let us get Miss Trumble in here, as your mother appears to be too indisposed to see me.’

He rang for the maid and sent her to fetch the governess. Miss Trumble listened to his plan. She felt quite light-headed with relief. It was far more than any of the Beverleys deserved.

‘Perhaps you will convey this intelligence to Lady Beverley,’ said Lord Burfield, rising and picking up his hat and gloves from a side-table. ‘I will send my travelling-carriage for you next Wednesday and a fourgon for the servants and your luggage.’

Miss Trumble curtsied low.

After he had left, she lectured Abigail on the extent of her good fortune and then went to order the carriage and Barry to take her to Hursley Park.

In all her relief, the normally shrewd Miss Trumble had not quite realized the full horror at Abigail’s behaviour that Lady Evans felt. Nor had she realized quite how much Lady Evans had dearly wanted to make a match between Prudence Makepeace and Lord Burfield. Miss Trumble told her old friend every- thing, including the plan to defer the intimacies of the marriage bed until such time as the couple came to know each other better.

Lady Evan’s lined and autocratic face stared wrathfully at Miss Trumble from under the shadow of one of her enormous starched caps. ‘I fail to see, Letitia,’ she said, ‘why a lady like you of breeding and intelligence should be acting as servant to a parcel of whores!’

‘That is going too far!’ cried Miss Trumble.

‘Whores,’ repeated Lady Evans firmly. ‘What else are they? To connive and plot and trick and deceive, and all for gain. Prudence Makepeace would have made him an excellent wife.’

‘Why?’ demanded Miss Trumble crossly. ‘She is sly and devious and worse – boring!’

‘She has modesty, breeding, and a fortune. Riches always marry riches in our world. I can only hope that Rupert does not consummate the marriage. It can then be annulled as soon as he realizes the enormous mistake he has made.’

Miss Trumble drew on her gloves. ‘They are good girls at heart. I promised little Lizzie that I would stay with them until she was married.’

‘That’s the youngest? The odd creature with
red
hair and
no
dowry to speak of? Dear heavens, Letitia, you will be with that wretched family until such time as you are carried out of Brookfield House in your coffin.’

‘I have great hopes of Lizzie,’ said Miss Trumble, rising to her feet.

‘Pah!’ said Lady Evans. ‘Pah and pooh to you, Letitia. You are as mad as the Beverleys!’

When Miss Trumble had left, Lady Evans went to her writing desk and began to pen a long letter to Mrs Makepeace, describing all the details about the forthcoming wedding between Lord Burfield and Abigail, ending with, ‘The only hope is that the wedding will be annulled as soon as he realizes his great mistake, for he does not plan to enter into proper marital relations at first.’

The letter was sanded and sealed and sent express and delivered to Mrs Makepeace by the post boy the following day. Prudence listened carefully as her mother read the letter aloud. She sat with her head bowed, shredding a fine cambric handkerchief between her fingers. It just wasn’t fair. How had she failed? For she could not blame Abigail for having coerced him into marriage and therefore spoiling her own, Prudence’s, chances. Lord Burfield had not declared himself during her visit to his home. In fact, during the latter part of her visit, he had seemed to go out of his way to avoid her.

But just suppose . . . just suppose, so ran her busy mind, that he realized his mistake quite soon and she would be there at the Season, there on hand to highlight the difference between her own fortune and ladylike behaviour and that of the dreadful Abigail Beverley. He would surely find out how society shunned this new fiancée of his. She did not voice any of her plans aloud. She meant to have Lord Burfield, and Abigail Beverley was not going to stand in her way.

‘Are you coming to London with us, Barry?’ asked Lizzie two days later. She was sitting in the tack room, watching Barry polishing the harness. Barry put down the cleaning-rag. ‘I do believe so, miss. We are all going with the exception of Josiah, the cook, and two of the maids, who will keep the house fired here. Never does in these wicked times to leave a house unattended.’

‘But who will look after the garden when we are away? It is most odd of Mama to take you as well when you are so badly needed here.’

‘The decision was Miss Trumble’s, your poor mama having withdrawn into herself, so to speak, and not caring about anything.’

‘And why does Miss Trumble want you in London?’

‘I reckon it’s because I told Miss Trumble I had never been there and it was a lifelong dream to see the place. Miss Trumble is a very kind lady.’

‘I am glad she is back with us,’ said Lizzie. ‘But London will be hard for us, Barry. Everyone will jeer and sneer, you know – there go the terrible Beverleys.’

‘Lord Burfield does seem a mighty strong and powerful man, miss, and I would reckon he knows what he is doing.’

There was a silence and then Lizzie said in a small voice, ‘What is the news from Mannerling?’