Shades of the Past (15 page)

"Oh, yes, the same Mrs. Cameron.  Lady Gwendolyn and she were good friends, despite the family's rivalry.  They'd visit back and forth when Mrs. Cameron and her husband were in residence at Eastnor Castle.  The Third Earl Somers was her brother-in-law, you know," Nanny confided the choice tidbit.

"No, I didn't know.  You say there was a rivalry?"

Nanny placed the photograph of the children she still held back with the others.  "Indeed, it was a cordial but serious competition between the Lords of Eastnor and Royal Sherringham.  Each strove to outdo the other, ever increasing and improving their estates.  That is the period Sherringham acquired so many new follies."

Nanny returned to the table and busily completed the settings, adding spoons and napkins.  As she worked, she picked up her tale.

"The rivalry began with the first Earl of Somers, who built Eastnor Castle, and Viscount Talbot Marrable, Lord Adrian's grandfather.  The competition continued with their sons.  Lord Lionel used to say Eastnor could never best Royal Sherringham, no matter how large it grew, for Sherringham possessed what Eastnor did not—authentic thirteenth-century remains.  Eastnor Castle was begun only recently, in the year 1812, I believe."

Vanessa better understood Lord Marrable's reaction when, the day of the funeral in the Grand Saloon, she'd witlessly remarked that some considered Sherringham a rival to Eastnor.  His clipped response should have alerted her she'd just made a huge blunder.  Eastnor was but a mock castle after all, though a castle it was architecturally.  Truly, she'd done no worse had she simply put her proverbial foot in her mouth and chewed most vigorously.

Reflecting back on that moment in the saloon, she smiled inwardly.  The pride of the Marrable lords in their ancestral home continued to flow strong in its current viscount.  His long absence from Sherringham had not lessened that in any way.

As Vanessa looked again to the photograph, she noted the soft expression in Lady Gwen's eyes as she gazed on the children.  Such a pity she never had children of her own.

A rap at the door signaled Mary Ethel's arrival with a pot of steaming water.  Nanny promptly allowed the maid in, then gave her full attention to warming the teapot and spooning in the appropriate measure of tea.  She scarcely took notice when Mary Ethel quietly withdrew.

While the beverage steeped, Vanessa continued to peruse the other photographs on the mantle, most showing the four Marrable children at various ages and at special times in their lives.  There were photographs of the brothers, grown to manhood, enjoying their "grand tour," and others of their sisters, gowned for their debuts.  Two additional photographs showed Majel and Cissy on their wedding days, each posed with their bridal parties.  Vanessa observed, even on that grand day, Majel's mouth appeared no more than a slit. 

Oddly, for all the plentiful pictures, tracing significant moments in the lives of the Marrables, two were noticeably missing. 

"Come, dear, the tea is ready," Nanny chimed.

"Lady Pendergast's and Lady Norland's wedding pictures are quite marvelous," Vanessa offered conversationally as she seated herself at the table.  "But tell me, are there no photographs of Viscount Marrable on the occasions of his marriages?" 

Vanessa hoped she did not sound overly curious about Lord Adrian and his late wives.  In all honesty, she did wonder about the ladies he'd chosen to make his viscountesses.  Were both marriages arranged, or was there something about each lady that had particularly attracted him and won his heart?  Were the women average in looks, or extraordinarily beautiful?

 "Photographs of Lord Adrian's weddings?  No, I don't keep any," Nanny replied matter-of-factly.  "Sugar?"

"What?  Oh, yes, one lump, thank you.  No, no cream." 

Vanessa assumed Nanny must have removed any such pictures after the viscountesses' deaths.

"Never did—keep any, that is."  Nanny chatted pleasantly as she poured hot tea into the cups, then set the teapot on its decorative trivet.  "I'm not one for gossip, mind you, but, truth to tell, I never cared much for either of them—Lady Clairissa or Lady Olivia." 

Vanessa choked on her tea.  Nanny, meanwhile, stirred her drink thoughtfully. 

"They were each quite different, you know.  Had Lord Adrian consulted me—not that he should have, mind you—but had he done so, I would have warned him away from both young women.  Likely, my advice would have gone unheeded.  Lord Adrian can be a stubborn, impassioned man, God bless him."  She sighed heavily and wagged her head.  "In the end, his wives, each in their own way, brought Lord Adrian bitter pain."

"Whatever do you mean?"  Vanessa lowered her cup to her saucer, stunned by Nanny's words.

Nanny stilled, a look of alarm rounding her eyes, that she might have spoken something she shouldn't have. 

"I shouldn't say.  I'm not one for gossip, you know.  It's most improper to bear tales of the dead.  Most improper, indeed."

Pinching her thumb and forefinger together, Nanny made a gesture as if buttoning her lips tight.  She then released another weighty sigh as if a deep fatigue was creeping over her.

Vanessa felt a mild disappointment.  She longed to make sense of Lord Adrian's comments of last evening, and to that end, learn something of his former wives, so she might better understand him.  As it was, Nanny preferred to dwell of other topics, in particular the four Marrables in their youths.  Vanessa gave into that course and asked Nanny how she first came to Sherringham. 

"The twins were born abroad, in a villa in the south of France.  Or was it Italy?" 

Nanny's brows drew together as she quested for the memory.  Failing to pinpoint it, she gave a little shrug and took a sip of tea. 

"Lucklessly for Lord and Lady Marrable, their nanny left their employ upon their return to Britain.  Or, perhaps it became necessary to dismiss her?  One does not inquire of such details, of course."

"Of course," Vanessa offered softly, not wishing to disrupt Nanny's flow of thoughts.

"The infants were positively beautiful.  Not at all alike, and each quite a separate handful, I can assure you."  Nanny chuckled as she thought back to those times.  "Lord Lionel assigned extra nursery maids, and Lady Gwendolyn, herself, helped, even changing diaper cloths at times.  She was never too proud to do so."

Nanny took several more sips of tea, then squinted into the distance, her thoughts piercing time.  "Of course, as the boys grew, Lady Majel and Lady Cissy arrived.  Those were happy, busy times.  The children thrived at Sherringham.  They were all so bright, and the boys, being twins, were particularly close." 

Nanny's brow dipped downward, as if a dark cloud drifted through her memories. 

"When the boys were small, they were inseparable, though not so much so as they grew older.  Of course, Master Adrian and Master Lawrence possessed such markedly differing temperaments even then.  The one sunny and charming, much more easygoing than his brother.  The other was more grave, and brooding, totally inflexible at times.  Then, there were flashes of a dark, hidden streak that would emerge from time to time.  At others, it seemed he carried a large block on his shoulder."

Vanessa could scarce follow the path of Nanny's thoughts, or to whom she referred.  "Sunny" and "charming" might easily describe Lawrence, and "grave" and "brooding," Lord Adrian, or at least one's first impressions of them nowadays.  It was far more difficult to guess which brother harbored a "dark" streak, and she was surprised Nanny confessed as much, not being "one for gossip."  But as Nanny's energies continued to visibly subside, her comments were becoming increasingly less guarded and somewhat rambling.

"Would you care to move to the chairs by the fireplace?" Vanessa suggested, mindful it was not her place to do so, but certain Nanny would be more comfortable in one of the plushy, winged-back chairs.  "The fire looks most warm and inviting.  If you'll allow me, I'll freshen your cup and bring it over."

"I didn't realize you were chilled, my dear.  Forgive me.  These great places always seem to have a draft, do they not?"

Vanessa found she couldn't agree more.  Once Nanny was installed by the fire with a restorative cup of tea, Vanessa joined her.  Nanny stared into the fire, watching the dance of the flames. 

"At times, I wonder if the Marrable line will continue through Lord Adrian,” she commented reflectively.  Her gaze shifted to Vanessa.  "Not that he doesn’t wish to have children.  He's most affectionate with them and would make a fine father—an exceptional one for an aristocrat."

Vanessa smiled.  "Yes, I believe so as well.  I've seen how he is with his nephew, Geoffrey." 

Lord Marrable did indeed require an heir if the family line was to carry on through him.  And, to that end, he required a wife who could bear him children.  

Vanessa felt a twinge of despondency, her deficiencies looming in sharp contrast to Lord Adrian's needs.  She could not be certain beyond doubt she was barren.  Still, despite Reginald's numerous absences, they'd been married sufficiently long to have conceived a child.  Dispiritingly, she'd never experienced even a moment's false hope she had.

Vanessa cleared her throat, banishing her gloomy thoughts.  "Lord Adrian is far from old.  Is it so unlikely he will remarry and produce an heir?"

"He may not wish to," Nanny volunteered cryptically.  A troubled look suddenly congested her eyes.  "Neither of his marriages were easy ones and both ended in shocking tragedy.  Lady Clairissa died in childbirth, God rest her.  Some may not consider that unusual or startling, but the circumstances . . .  Oh my, they were quite beyond the pale."

Nanny gulped down several mouths full of tea as if it were a potent drink, bracing her against some galling memory.

"Then, there was Lady Olivia."  Nanny shook her head.  "Tragic, tragic."

She set aside her cup and saucer on the little table beside her chair and folded her plump hands.  A mix of emotions filled her face as her eyes drew to Vanessa.

"After his first wife's death, Lord Adrian became a joyless soul.  Morose, in fact.  He seemed disinclined to remarry at first, but while in London, he met Olivia Chase.  She utterly bewitched him."

Nanny returned her gaze to the fire, sadness tingeing her expression. 

"Lord Adrian had been so wounded, he could not easily see what was obvious to others.  Perhaps, it was because Miss Chase was so different from his first wife.  Lady Clairissa had been a pale, fragile creature, as delicate in build as she was in disposition.  Oh, she enjoyed being viscountess and having a husband so handsome as Lord Adrian.  But, if I may say so, she apparently never accepted certain aspects of married life." 

Nanny leaned forward.  "What lies between a man and a woman," she divulged in a part-whisper then sat back again.  "Lady Clairissa's pregnancy came as quite a shock to her.  She deemed her state utterly appalling, and blamed Lord Adrian regularly for her 'sufferings.'  She did so even in front of the staff."

"How distressing for Lord Adrian."  Vanessa felt great sympathy for the man.  "And then she died in childbirth."

Again a look of pain pierced Nanny's eyes at the mention of Lady Clairissa's manner of death.

"As I was saying before, Miss Chase was dramatically different from Lord Adrian's first viscountess.  She was a fiery beauty, as fiery as her red hair, and with an immense appetite and passion for life.  She was not shy in the least and spoke her mind openly to all.  And yet, she seemed somehow disingenuous.  I once overheard Lady Cissy say as much.  The marriage seemed happy at first, but it soon became turbulent.  Leastwise, while at Sherringham, the couple quarreled openly and often.  Their last words to one another were spoken in argument.  Lord Marrable feels responsible for Lady Olivia's death too." 

Vanessa found this astonishing.  "But didn't she die in an accident?  How could he blame himself for that?"

"It was possible she left to pursue him.  Or that is one thought often expressed among Sherringham's staff."  Her look grew clouded.  "It doesn't explain everything, of course."

"Whatever do you mean?”  Vanessa inclined her head.  “What happened?"

Nanny released a soft sigh, resting her head back on the chair.  "I really know nothing of the accident firsthand.  I went to sleep early that evening, and it wasn't until the next morning I discovered the night had turned tragic."

Nanny continued, revealing, in a meandering and sometimes incoherent way, how Lady Olivia had arrived at Sherringham several days before the accident, without her husband.  On the fateful night, however, Lord Adrian evidently arrived after dark and left several hours later.  A violent argument had ensued between the viscount and viscountess, Nanny learned the next morning.  After Lord Adrian's departure, Lady Olivia left also, accompanied by her lady's maid. 

"I like to think the viscountess was pursuing Lord Adrian to mend matters between them.  But, oh dear—"  Nanny's hand flew to her mouth, covering it as tears sprang to her eyes.  "The axle on the carriage broke, just as Lady Olivia reached the sharp turn in the road—Devil's Hairpin.  The carriage plunged into the ravine and burst into flames from the lanterns.  Poor Master Lawrence, he was in residence, too, and tried to save her.  He bears a permanent scar on his palm from that effort.  Have you seen it?"

Vanessa realized immediately he'd always been careful to keep it from sight.  "No, I haven't."