Mesalliance (33 page)

Then it
happened. The Vidame began to laugh gently and said, ‘Really, my
friend, you are so very
English
are you not? You leave your
ravishing bride to search for a snuff-box – no, no! Do not
interrupt. I am very sure you wouldn’t have married her if she was
not entirely exquisite. And this, doubtless, is why you haven’t
brought her with you.’

‘You think I
feared to have her fall victim to your fatal charm, Raoul?’
enquired Rockliffe lazily.

‘Naturally! But
I forgive you. It is very understandable. I even forgive you for
not visiting me in my miserable cell – for you are about to be
extremely sorry that you didn’t.’

‘Am I?’

‘But yes!’
D’Aurillac grinned wickedly. ‘For if you had, you might even now be
cradling in your hand the … what was it? … ah yes. The rare antique
ivory box you say you came here to find.’

Heavy lids
veiled the dark eyes and there was a long silence. Then his Grace
said softly, ‘Raoul … are you telling me you know where to find
Michel du Plessis?’

‘How could I
not? He is my tenant. But I have to say, my friend, that I can’t
imagine him leaving France – let alone travelling to London and
buying snuff-boxes of any age or rarity.’

‘Ah.’ Rockliffe
stared meditatively into his glass. ‘But life is full of surprises,
is it not?’

‘And
mysteries,’ nodded the Vidame with cheerful cynicism. ‘But tonight,
for you, I will break the habit of a lifetime and not ask awkward
questions – much though I would like to.’ He paused. And then,
‘Very well. You will find Michel du Plessis at a small farm just
outside Nevers – and I hope your business with him prospers. All I
ask in return is that, next time you come to Paris, you will bring
your lovely duchess.’

*

Early next
morning, Rockliffe set off alone on horseback along the valley of
the Loire and, two days later, reached the small town of Nevers
where he obtained directions to du Plessis’ farm. He could not help
wondering what – or, more particularly, who – he would find there.
It had not seemed politic to ask the Vidame about du Plessis’ wife.
Last night Raoul had been disposed towards discretion; today … who
knew?

The farmhouse
was a pretty place, well-kept and prosperous-looking. But it was
the tiny garden – still, despite the lateness of the season, a riot
of colour – that took Rockliffe’s eye for it struck him as somehow
untypical. Then the door opened … and all thought was temporarily
suspended.

There was no
doubting who she was. The line of brow and cheek and jaw – the wide
mouth and long, slender neck – even the grace of her step, were all
heart-stoppingly familiar. Caught unprepared, the Duke remained
where he was and simply stared. Then, mercifully, she came closer
and the differences became visible; the dark brown hair was lightly
frosted with silver … and her eyes, not aquamarine but blue, were
lucent with a serenity Adeline had never possessed.

She reached the
end of the path and looked up at him, the narrow brows expressing
faint surprise.

‘Can I help
you,
monsieur
? You are looking for my husband, perhaps?’

The voice was
different too, thank God. Rockliffe pulled himself together, smiled
and came collectedly from the saddle.

‘No,
madame
. I think … indeed, I am very sure … that it is you I
came to see.’

‘I?’ She looked
doubtfully at the elegance of his person. ‘But I don’t think -
’

‘No. We have
never met. And my name – which is Wynstanton – will probably mean
nothing to you.’ He paused briefly and switched from French to
English. ‘I am the Duke of Rockliffe,
madame
. And though I
have strong reasons for coming here to find you, I do not think
there is anything in them that need distress you.’

Some of the
colour left her face and she laid one hand on the gate, as if for
support. Then, still in French, she said stiffly, ‘I cannot imagine
what an English Duke might want with – with the wife of a French
farmer.’

‘Can you
not?’

She shook her
head emphatically. ‘No.’

His Grace
hesitated and then said gently, ‘There really
is
no cause
for alarm … Joanna.’

‘Oh God.’ Her
hand closed hard on the gate and this time she answered him in
English. ‘You know who I am. How? Why are you here?’

‘Primarily, I
suppose, to make your acquaintance.’

‘I don’t
understand why you should - ’ She stopped and drew a long, bracing
breath. ‘Very well. You’d better come inside and tell me what it is
you want.’

The parlour
into which she led him was as neat as a pin and comfortable.
Rockliffe took the seat she indicated and, coming directly to the
point, said simply, ‘You left a daughter behind you in England. She
is now my wife.’

Joanna sank
abruptly down on a cushioned settle.

‘
Adeline
?’ she said weakly. ‘You’ve married my Adeline?’

‘Just so.’

She stared at
the tall, suave and exceptionally good-looking man who claimed to
be her son-in-law and said helplessly, ‘But you … you said you were
a Duke.’

‘And so I am.’
A tiny gleam disturbed the gravity of his expression. ‘And ‘your
Adeline’ is now my duchess. You would be proud, I think, to see how
well it suits her.’

‘I’m sorry. I
can’t … it’s difficult to take in.’ Her hands twisted restlessly in
her lap and at length she said, ‘They told her I was dead.’

‘Yes.’

‘They told her
I was dead … and, even when I knew, I let it go on. It seemed
better that way. I couldn’t take her from Tom, you see – and it
wasn’t right to leave her handicapped for life by my disgrace.’ She
paused and looked him full in the face, her expression anguished.
‘It was never that I didn’t want her – but how can she ever
understand that? Now that she’s discovered the truth, she must hate
me.’

‘As yet,
madame
, she knows nothing.’

Her eyes
widened. ‘Then how did you find out?’

‘Let us say
that – thanks to a series of small coincidences – I guessed.’ He
smiled at her. ‘It is a facility that I have. And, having guessed,
Sir Roland was … persuaded … to confide in me.’

‘But you – you
haven’t told Adeline?’

‘No. It seemed
preferable to wait until I could offer a complete story … and there
is still, I regret to say, just one very delicate question I must
ask you.’

‘Of course.’
Her hands were at rest now but her tone was wry. ‘You want to know
if Adeline is Tom Kendrick’s child, do you not? But before I answer
it,
I
want to know if it matters.’

‘To me – not in
the slightest; to Adeline – quite a lot, I should imagine. And she
will ask, you see.’

Her shoulders
relaxed and she seemed to sigh.

‘Forgive me
asking … but do you love her?’

‘Yes. Very
much.’

‘And she? Does
she love you?’

‘I don’t know,’
Rockliffe replied truthfully. ‘Obviously, I’d like to think so but
– after almost five months of marriage – I still can’t be
sure.’

The blue eyes
dwelled on him thoughtfully and it was a long time before she
spoke. Then, with a smile of unexpected warmth, she said, ‘Adeline
is as legitimate as you are, your Grace. Had she not been Tom’s
child, I could never have left her.’

‘Thank you. I
had suspected as much.’

‘I’m glad to
hear it.’ She came smoothly to her feet. ‘I think it’s high time I
fetched some wine. And then, as you wish, you may tell me all about
it.’

His desire to
do exactly that surprised him and he gave way to it without
hesitation. Joanna cried a little when he described Adeline’s life
in the Franklin household; she shook her head over his account of
the night of the ball when he’d proposed; and she listened in
thoughtful silence when he spoke – somewhat less smoothly – of the
difficulties within his marriage.

At the end of
it all, she said angrily, ‘They have damaged her, haven’t they –
Miriam and Richard and the rest of them?’

‘I think so.
Yes.’

‘You say she’s
reserved and distant – that, at times, she retreats to a place
where even you can’t reach her. And that’s why. I could
kill
Miriam.’

‘I’m not too
fond of her myself,’ agreed Rockliffe.

‘She’s not your
sister.’

‘No. But I have
one almost equally unlikeable.’

A tiny laugh
escaped her at that. She said, ‘Aside from the obvious, I’m
beginning to feel that Adeline is very fortunate.’

‘I am delighted
that you think so.’ His smile, this time, was a trifle crooked. ‘I
shall be even more delighted when I can be sure Adeline thinks so,
too.’

Joanna thought
for a moment and then said slowly, ‘Forgive my asking … but have
you actually told her that you love her?’

‘Not in so many
words, no.’

‘Then perhaps
you should. I imagine they are words she has not heard for a very
long time – if ever.’

‘That thought
had occurred to me.’

‘Then why
haven’t you remedied it?’

‘Because I
couldn’t be certain she was ready to hear it.’ Rockliffe paused and
then, shrugging slightly, added, ‘And because I’ve never said those
words to any woman before. Nor even wanted to.’

Joanna
reflected that, if the little she had seen of him was any true
indication, it was difficult to understand how her daughter – or
indeed, any woman – could have lived with this man for five months
and not be totally
bouleversé.
But, as she rose to refill
his glass, she said merely, ‘This hasn’t been easy for you, has
it?’

‘Not
particularly. But I daresay it’s done me no harm to become a little
less sure of myself. And my feelings aren’t the issue here.’

‘Aren’t
they?’

‘No. My chief
concern at the moment is that something happened a few weeks ago to
undo everything I thought I’d achieved. And she won’t tell me what
it is.’

There was a
long silence and then Joanna said, ‘Is my brother Richard in
London?’

‘Yes. Why?’

‘Be wary of
him. He was a sly, sadistic child who enjoyed trapping birds and
drowning kittens. He’s weak – but flawed. And it wouldn’t surprise
me if he tried to do you – or Adeline – a mischief of some kind
just for the fun of it. I’m not saying that he
is
the cause
of your problem – merely that you shouldn’t discount him.’

‘That is
interesting advice. I’ll bear it in mind.’

The afternoon
sped by as they talked … and when Michel du Plessis came in with
the limp that had made him quit the army, Rockliffe saw that the
love for which Joanna Kendrick had left her husband and child still
glowed like a beacon.

‘You don’t
judge us,’ remarked Michel after a time.

‘No. That would
be impertinent. And what right have I?’ the Duke replied. And found
himself accepting an invitation to stay the night.

It was not
until the following morning when he was preparing to leave that
Joanna, from within Michel’s sheltering arm, voiced the question
that must have been in her mind all along.

‘When you go
back – will you tell her?’

‘Yes – though
perhaps not immediately. If I am to minimise the shock, I’ll need
to choose the moment carefully.’

‘Of course. But
when you
do
tell her … if she should feel disposed to come …
will you bring her here?’ she asked diffidently. ‘I should so very
much like to see her.’

Rockliffe took
her hand and, with a swift uncluttered smile, said, ‘I know. And
you may be sure that, if she wishes it, I shall bring her to you.
In the meantime, there is no need at all for any anxiety. I assure
you that I am to be trusted.’

‘Yes.’ Joanna
smiled back at him. ‘Yes. I know that you are.’

*

After an
absence of three weeks and having stopped off in Paris to collect
Mr Osborne, send both the Vidame d’Aurillac and Monsieur and Madame
du Plessis a dozen bottles of Sancerre wine and, finally, purchase
an extremely pretty aquamarine and diamond ring from a shop on the
Rue St Honoré, the Duke walked into his house at around eight in
the evening and asked for his wife.

‘Her Grace and
Lady Elinor,’ came the grandiloquent reply, ‘are dining with the
Marquis and Marchioness of Amberley in Hanover Square. A small
family party, as I understand it, your Grace.’

‘And I away?
How very uncivil of them,’ drawled Rockliffe. ‘They might have
waited. Do you not think they might have waited, Robert?’

Robert Symonds
was not deceived but it was beneath his dignity to smile.

‘Lord
Amberley,’ he announced, ‘has been in town for a week, your
Grace.’

‘Only a week? A
bagatelle, Robert. I am cut to the quick. And I do not think … I
really do not think that they can be allowed to perpetrate this
atrocity.’ Rockliffe paused and with laughter in his eyes,
contemplated his immaculate travelling-dress of sapphire
broadcloth. ‘The only question is – will they let me in or shall I
be turned ignominiously away?’

The faintest of
tremors afflicted Symonds’ expression. In all his time in the
Duke’s service, he had never known his noble employer go out
incorrectly attired.

‘Your Grace
could change?’ he ventured to suggest.

‘I could,’
agreed his Grace with reflective devilry. ‘But for a small family
party, I do not think I will. And it would be a shame, would it
not, to spoil the effect?’

In Hanover
Square, the Marquis of Amberley’s butler welcomed the latecomer
without so much as a blink and informed him that the company had
but now sat down to dine.

‘As well as her
Grace and Lady Elinor, it is only Lord Philip and Lady Isabel with
Mr Ingram and Lord Harry, your Grace. Not a large party. And my
lord Amberley will be delighted to see you, I’m sure.’