Her Grace in Disgrace (The Widows of Woburn Place) (22 page)

“Yes, I
believe we should all have a conversation. Miss Kennilworth.” Lady Warwick
stood in the doorway, her beautiful features marred by a frown. She cast an
enquiring look at Lord Saybrooke.

“Lady
Warwick,” Isobel managed in her distress, “may I introduce Viscount Saybrooke.”

Saybrooke
sketched a bow, and expressed his pleasure. Lady Warwick inclined her head and
said, “Please follow me; we can have tea in the family sitting room.”

Isobel
looked to Saybrooke, her eyes pleading. He spared her a mere glance laced with mistrust
and spoke to the Duchess. “Thank you, Your Grace, that is very kind of you.” The
three of them left the sleeping Lord Charles in Griffin’s competent care.
Isobel’s legs were unsteady as she walked out of the room feeling as if she
were headed to her own execution.

The once
familiar sitting room reminded Isobel of the small salon at Woburn Place,
though on a much grander scale. The Duchess of Warwick had been busy
redecorating. Once they had been seated Lady Warwick began. “Charles was found
in the Rookery. He had been beaten and robbed. Though the thieves took most of
his belongings, they left his calling card, which was how the Watch knew to
bring him here. They also found these.” She pulled out two very familiar pieces
of paper and handed them to Saybrooke. Isobel flinched.

After
examining the papers, Saybrooke regarded Isobel, hurt and anger warring in his
eyes. “What is this, Isobel?”

“It is
Reginald’s and Lady Warwick’s marriage lines,” blurted out Isobel, longing to
run away.

“I can see
that for myself, as well as a torn sheet from the registry where they were wed.
What I am asking is what does all this mean?”

Isobel let
out an aching sigh and mentally prepared herself to confess all. The Duchess
and Saybrooke said nothing more, but their eyes never left her face as they
waited for what she had to say.

“Charles
came to me yesterday.”
Was it only yesterday?
“He is in dun territory
and in his desperation he hatched this ridiculous scheme.”

“What
scheme, Isobel?” asked Saybrooke with his deadly mild voice.

The story
was soon told and did little to shed a very positive light on Lord Charles or
Isobel. Lady Warwick was painfully silent. Saybrooke looked as if he would be
sick.

“And you
agreed to this ill-conceived plot?” inquired Saybrooke.

“No!” cried
Isobel.

“So you
tried to stop him?” Saybrooke probed further.

“No,” said
Isobel in a beaten whisper.

“Did you
agree to marry him, Izzy?” Saybrooke’s wounded expression brought tears to
Isobel’s eyes.

“No,” Isobel
said hesitantly.

“But you did
not turn him down.” It was a statement.

“No.” Isobel
could not have felt more ashamed.

“I see.”

“Drew, you
heard Charles, he had given up the idea and I would not have gone through with
it, either. I was unable to sleep last night for tossing and turning. It was a
despicable scheme and I am sorry for it.” She looked entreatingly at Saybrooke
and then Lady Warwick.

“I am sorry,
too, Izzy. More sorry than I can say.” Lord Saybrooke’s expression fit his
words. Isobel wanted to rush to him. To hold him. But she knew she could not.
She would give anything to be able to wipe away that look of disappointment and
sadness, but she was powerless to do so. For she had put it there.

Saybrooke
spoke again. “I must take my leave. I apologize for deserting you Lady Warwick,
but I have promised my mother that I would escort her to a rout tonight, I
cannot remember where. It matters not. They are all the same.”

“I will walk
you out,” offered the Duchess of Warwick and he offered her his arm. Isobel
watched his rigid back for a brief second. “Drew!” she cried out to stop him,
not knowing what to say to make him stay.

Lord
Saybrooke turned his head and with a forced smile he said, “Goodbye, Miss
Kennilworth. I wish you well.” He strode out of the room.

Lady Warwick
stayed behind and spoke to Isobel. “I will be back in a little while. I would
give you some time to…rest. I wish to speak with you further, if that is
acceptable.” Isobel willed herself to nod and as soon as Lady Warwick had gone,
Isobel gave in to a fit of stormy tears. She was angry and embarrassed and
appalled at her own behavior. She felt deserted and hopeless and utterly
devastated. She wandered about the room and screamed and cried and struck out
at pillows and chairs and other defenseless objects. At last, her energy spent,
her cries softened and she lay down on one of the couches. Within moments she
had fallen fast asleep. She awoke to a gentle touch and a soft voice calling
her name.

“Miss
Kennilworth?” Lady Warwick’s face was inches from her own. She rubbed at her
eyes and abruptly sat up. “I must look a sight,” Isobel said self-consciously
smoothing her hair.

“Nonsense,  as
always you look lovely. And I have brought the English restorative, tea. Unless
you care for something stronger.” Lady Warwick was making an effort to be kind,
purposely keeping her tone light.

“Tea is
welcome. Thank you.” Isobel watched Lady Warwick pour the brew in silence.
Finally, she could not restrain herself from asking a question that had been
niggling at her. “How is it, Lady Warwick, that you speak such flawless
English?”

“Oh, but it
is not flawless. I still retain an accent. I doubt that I shall ever rid myself
of it.”

“But it is
charming! I hope you never even contemplate ridding yourself of it,” declared
Isobel quite truthfully.

Lady Warwick
smiled graciously. “It was Reginald’s doing. Almost every night we would
practice. He wanted me to feel at home in England and eventually take my place
as his duchess.” Seeing Isobel’s disapproving expression, Lady Warwick
continued. “He did not force me to do it; it was for my own well-being. I was
very nervous about fitting in and he made a game of it for me. I learned
English, all the while laughing.”

Isobel was
silent as she tried to imagine the Reginald she knew making a game of anything.
She failed and the silence stretched out as the two women sipped their tea. Finally
Lady Warwick spoke.

“I want to
tell you the full story of what happened. How this all came about. Will you
listen?” Isobel nodded and Lady Warwick began to speak. Isobel remained silent,
allowing Lady Warwick to relate her long and tragic tale.

“As
you know, Reginald was wounded at the battle of Talavera. His wound was not
grievous, but he had lost consciousness from a blow to the head. His living
body had been partially obscured by the corpse of one of his comrade in arms
for close to a day, most of that time he had thankfully, been unconscious. He had
regained consciousness near dawn and lay pinned beneath the dead soldier,
crying out in a feeble voice. My brother and I were searching for my fiancé who
had fought along with the British the day before. Instead, we found Reginald. We
managed to get him back to our home some miles away in the wagon we had
brought. My brother returned to search for my fiancé.

“That
night the fever came and I did my best to care for him. After two days, the
fever broke and his condition improved. A few days later, I learned of my
fiancé’s death. One week later, my brother went out on a guerilla raid and
never returned. I was devastated and fell into a decline. By that time Reginald
was well enough to become the caregiver and did his best to comfort me.

“Reginald
and I were thrown together by God or fate, whatever you care to believe, but
what began as mutual need gradually turned to love. All of my family was gone,
lost to the monster Napoleon. So, Reginald brought me with him when he returned
to his regiment and we were married soon after. His wound was not healing
properly, however, and he was sent home to England. He brought me with him,
anxious to introduce me to my new family, since mine was gone.

He
had warned me that his father would not be pleased initially, but nothing
prepared me for the vehement display of anger that Lord Warwick exhibited upon my
introduction to him. He had been in his cups, as I gather he often was, but
Reginald was so happy, so hopeful. My heart soared that day to see Reginald’s
pride as he introduced me. But his father was incensed that his son and heir
brought home a foreigner and a papist! His face suffused with rage as he looked
at me, but I stood my ground, though my heart was pounding and my legs barely
held me up. He came close to striking me; in fact I am convinced he would have,
but Reginald stepped in front of me and tried to reason with his father. That
horrid man called me so many hateful names; I cannot bear to repeat them. At
that time, I did not know the meaning of most of them. But for Reginald he
saved the worst. He threatened disinheritance, but Reginald explained to me
later that his father could not carry out the threat due to the entail. Knowing
the futility of the earlier threat, he declared that he would kill Reginald
with his own bare hands. They began to argue violently. I begged them to stop.
Reginald finally realized that nothing was being served by this continued
dispute and he told his father that he would not see him until he repented of
his numerous offenses to me. Reginald took me to Hidenwood, which was left him
by his mother’s uncle and we lived there happily for a solitary month. I love
Hidenwood. It is my favorite place on earth.” Lady Warwick’s dark troubled eyes
became wistful as she thought of this idyllic time with her husband. She paused
but a moment, then continued.

“Reginald
received a message from his father that he wished to see him. I begged to go
with him, for I truly feared for his life. He allowed me to go, for he did want
to leave me alone at Hidenwood. He bade me to stay at the Black Horse Inn in
Warwick while he went alone to Warwick Park. Reginald had assured me that his
father would repent and express his regrets. Nothing could be farther from the
truth. From what I learned later, he was well and truly drunk and meaner than a
badger. He informed his son that either Reginald get an annulment, or he would
have me killed. Can you imagine? Reginald was convinced that he would do it.
Much to my shock, Reginald admitted that his father had murdered before, once
by his own hands, a few others he had commissioned, but from all of them he
walked away with impunity. Though he had known this, he had never feared his
father. Until that day. Hearing his words, seeing his face, Reginald was certain
his father would not hesitate to carry out this heinous deed and that this was
no idle threat. Fruitlessly he tried to reason with him, to no avail. He
promised to have our marriage annulled in order to keep me safe.

“Lord
Warwick, of course, would not take our word, but demanded to see the legal
document. It took some time to achieve the annulment; all the while he had his
henchman keeping an eye on us at Hidenwood. But after five months of Reginald exerting
his influence and in the end resorting bribery, it was done. Reginald and I
traveled once again to Warwickshire. He showed his father the document and told
him he never wanted to see him again. His father laughed and said his whore was
safe, that he did not care what Reginald did with me now as long as he was
discreet. But he was not finished. He demanded that Reginald attend the coming
season of 1811 and find a wife. An English wife, he was quick to add and that he
would need to approve the match before Reginald made another disastrous
marriage. Reginald attempted to refuse, but his father warned him that he had
better reconsider, for he did not want anything to happen to his Spanish slut,
did he? Reginald told me he almost killed him then. I feel he would have been
justified, but he could not and I am proud that he did not, for he proved
himself to be nothing like his father.

“We
travelled back to Hidenwood. Reginald was full of remorse, apologizing over and
over again for putting me through such a dreadful ordeal. I told him not to
worry, that all would be well. I thought perhaps if we just stalled a bit, the
old man would die. He was obviously not well. How much longer could he live? I
assured him, however, that barring that, I would live with him in sin, if need
be, at least until the old horror was cold in his grave. We could marry then. He
grudgingly agreed, but was heavy at heart.

“A
month later I realized I was with child. Both Reginald and I were exultant and
in despair all at once. Reginald was determined that this child would not be a
bastard! He resolved then and there to marry me again. And so we did. Reginald obtained
a special license and we were married in Derbyshire in July of ’10 with no one
the wiser. Eight months of sheer happiness followed, culminating in the birth
of our son Reggie. Just a month after his birth, Reginald was forced to go to
London for the season. I need not relate to you all that occurred there, for
much of it you know better than I, for you were there. What you do not know is
that Miss Laura Downing and Reginald had become friends and had confided in
each other. With my knowledge, they were to become engaged and then concoct one
reason or another to delay the actual wedding. She was in love with another as
well, but they were not allowed to marry. Then Reginald wrote to me that Miss
Downing had been compromised and was forced to marry Lord Tyndale. Reginald did
not realize until later that this was your doing, that in order for you to be
able to trap him into marriage you needed to get Miss Downing out of the way. He
was very angry with you, Miss Kennilworth. I felt sorry for you.” Again Lady
Warwick paused, taking a short respite from her lengthy narrative. Isobel was
silent. A new wave of guilt and self-loathing surged within her and she could
barely breath, let alone speak. Lady Warwick saw Isobel’s discomfort and
continued to bring an end to the tale and to Isobel’s distress.