You Only Love Twice (10 page)

He said quietly, “I can’t turn the nuns out. They’re hardworking, self-sacrificing ladies who will be an asset to our community.” He shrugged helplessly as he groped for words. “Besides, if I turn them out, they’ll simply find another house in the area, so they might as well remain at Hawkshill. It’s lying empty and I have no use for it.”

Bella rose and began to pull on her gloves. “There’s going to be gossip and it won’t be pleasant.” She gave him an acid smile. “The nuns may be an asset to our little community, but they don’t move in our circles. And neither will Jessica Hayward. She never did, and after the scandal she created, no respectable lady would dare open
her doors to her. Poor girl, I can almost feel sorry for her.”

The gentlemen had all risen politely to their feet. Lucas brushed a speck of lint from his sleeve. “The doors of this house will always be open to Jessica,” he said mildly. He looked at Bella with eyes that were wide and clear. “For one thing, my mother was always fond of Jess, and when she comes down from London, I know she’ll wish to see her again. And for another thing, I don’t believe Jess told her father those lies. I think William Hayward concocted that story by himself to get money out of me.”

Bella said stiffly, “This is the first time you’ve mentioned that theory, Lucas.”

“Is it? Let’s just say, now that I’ve had time to think about it, that theory sounds good to me.”

Rupert was frowning down at a loose button on his coat. “I’ve always liked Jessica,” he said, “yes and felt sorry for her too. She didn’t have much of a life with that father of hers.” He looked up and smiled at Bella. “I know when you’ve had time to think about it, dear, you’ll see that Lucas’s way is best.” He turned to Lucas. “Our doors will be open to Jessica as well.”

Lucas’s eyes flicked to Bella. Her smile didn’t give much away, but he sensed her inner struggle as she fought to master her fury. Finally, she said, “If Jessica has changed her ways, then of course, I’ll do my part to help her become accepted.” Then abruptly to Rupert, “Come along, dear. I promised Cook I’d go over menus with her this afternoon, and you know how the silly woman can’t do anything without direction.”

Lucas and Adrian stood on the drive watching Rupert’s carriage disappear from view.

Adrian said thoughtfully, “So you’re convinced Jessica has lost her memory?”

“I’m convinced,” replied Lucas.

When he did not elaborate, Adrian went on, “If you’re
looking to re-establish Jessica’s reputation, you’ll need the help of a suitable female.”

“Who, for instance?”

“What about the vicar’s wife? She’s a good sort.”

“I’ll bear that in mind. Why do you look so serious?”

“I’m thinking of Bella. She’ll make mincemeat of your Jess.”

“My
Jess?” said Lucas darkly.

Adrian let out a hoot of laughter and clapped Lucas on the shoulder. “Lucas, a blind man could read you, and I am not blind. A word of advice?”

“Stow it, Adrian.”

Another hoot of laughter. “Just make sure that history doesn’t repeat itself.”

On the drive home in the carriage, Bella kept up a flow of small talk, never once mentioning what was really on her mind. But that was only for the benefit of the coachmen, in case they should overhear and carry tales out of school. No one was going to say that Bella Haig’s nose was out of joint because Jessica Hayward had returned to the area. She’d been made a laughingstock once before. It wasn’t going to happen again.

As soon as they alighted from the carriage and the coachmen drove off to the stable block, she said, “I don’t know why we must spend every summer in this backwater when we could be in Brighton with the Prince Regent. He asked me particularly if we would be going there this year.”

Rupert’s voice was mild. “I’m as sorry as you, m’dear, but we really can’t disappoint our people. They expect us to be present at their Tenants’ Ball.”

“Why can’t they hold it in August?”

“They’ll be too busy with the harvest. Besides, it’s a tradition that’s been in my family for generations.”

Bella’s lips thinned. For the most part, Rupert was an indulgent husband, but on one thing he always stood firm.
When they came into Berkshire, they must reside in the house that had been in his family for over two centuries, the house where his grandfather had raised him. Tradition was something her husband prized.

It was nonsense, of course. Her late father’s house, which was far superior to this pile of moldering bricks, had been sold off. And now, for more than half the year, she was forced to endure rooms the size of closets, smoky chimneys, and plaster that fell from the ceilings in chunks whenever someone slammed a door.

They had the money to rebuild the place from cellars to rafters, but Rupert wouldn’t hear of it. The house in London, he always reminded her, was hers to do with as she wished. She couldn’t fault him there. No expense had been spared to turn the house in Grosvenor Square into her own private palace. And it wasn’t her money that had gone into it, either. Nothing had surprised her more, after her marriage, than to discover just how wealthy Rupert was. It was known, of course, that the Haigs had money, but the Spartan life he had shared with his grandfather in this dreary house had given no hint of how much. She didn’t know why people would choose to live like this when they could do whatever they wanted.

When they entered the Great Hall, her lips tightened even more. She hated the dingy place with its dark paneling and small windows. Other people lived in airy Palladian mansions that boasted Greek columns and white marble. There was no point in mentioning it to Rupert. He would only reply that this was a Tudor manor, that it was a house with character and that marble and Greek columns were highly overrated. What did he know about it? If they were good enough for the Prince Regent, they were good enough for her.

When Rupert mentioned that he was going to the conservatory to tend his roses, she asked him sweetly if he would mind coming to her parlor so that she could speak to him in private. She waited till he had closed the door.

“I could hardly believe my ears,” she cried, “when you said that our doors would be open to Jessica Hayward, and after all that she did to me!”

Rupert sat on the arm of a chair. “I was thinking of you,” he said. “How would it look if you cut the girl? People would say that you were still in love with Lucas or that you were jealous of Jessica.”

“I don’t care what people say,” she cried out.

“You don’t mean that. You care a great deal about what people think of you, and so do I.”

His calm tone inflamed her. “You are wrong! I don’t care!”

“Don’t you?” There was no smile now, no gentle manner. His features had set like granite. “Well, I do. I mean what I say, Bella. I won’t have our name dragged through the mud. I won’t have my wife act in a vulgar manner. I’m not asking you to make the girl your special friend, but you will act in a way that does credit to this family.”

She was more shaken than she cared to admit. He rarely used this tone of voice with her, and when he did, it reminded her of her father. Pushing the memory away, she lifted her chin. No one could speak to her like this. “Jessica Hayward did me a great wrong,” she said, “and I shall never forgive her for it.”

He got to his feet. “I’m not asking you to forgive her. But you will be civil to her. That’s all I ask.” At the door, he turned back and gave her one of his sweet smiles. “Did I tell you that I’ve developed a new strain of rose? I’m naming it ‘Arabella’ in your honor. It’s a true, vivid crimson and has as perfect a bloom as I’ve ever seen. Hardy, too. In fact, it reminds me of you.”

Anger shimmered through her. Did he think he could bribe her by naming a rose after her?

When she was alone, she sat down on a sofa and folded her hands. The white on her knuckles stood out starkly. A few hours ago she’d been in London; she was happy. Now look at her! She was as tense as a coiled spring.

Chalford always did that to her. In London, she was a different person, but here she sensed all the subtle signs that convinced her she could never be one of “them.” Her father had warned her that quality was what counted in this provincial society, and rank and beauty could take her only so far. Well, if she wasn’t a lady of quality, she didn’t know who was. She was a woman who took care of herself. She was always dressed in the height of fashion; she knew all the best people; her parties were the talk of the town. Yet in Lucas’s drawing room, she’d been made to feel that Jessica Hayward, a girl who should have forfeited everybody’s good opinion by her lurid past, was more highly thought of than she.

Even her own husband had betrayed her.

Just thinking about it made her boil. She was the one who had been wronged. Then why did no one stand up for her? She’d waited for Lucas for four years. She’d never expected it to be that long before he came home from the war. Four years during which time all her friends were marrying one by one. People were beginning to think of her as a spinster. But she’d loved Lucas. And as time wore on, it became more and more difficult to change her course. People would have said that she’d wasted the best years of her life waiting for him. They would have laughed at her. So, she persevered.

Then the scandal had blown up in her face. She’d been made to look ridiculous and that was something she never forgave.

Her father had been even more livid than she. He’d never wanted her to marry Lucas. Rupert had always been his first choice. Though Rupert would never inherit a title, his pedigree was impeccable. He had money. He was a war hero. So she, a woman who could have any man she wanted, had accepted his proposal.

And this was her reward?

She took several long breaths and forced herself to relax. She’d spoken in the heat of the moment when she’d
told Rupert she didn’t care what people said about her. She did care. She cared passionately. But she also cared passionately about punishing anyone who had slighted her. Lucas had paid his debt when he’d lost her to Rupert. But Jessica Hayward …

Jessica Hayward had always been a thorn in her side. She’d been a strange child; a little busybody if the truth were known. But she couldn’t tell anyone the truth because it showed her in a bad light. It was because of Jessica Hayward that her own father, Sir Henry, had given her, Bella Clifford, the most sought after girl in the county, the thrashing of her life.

He’d discovered that someone in the house had been stealing porcelain objects and silver trinkets, and he’d blamed one of the footmen when, in fact, she was the culprit. She’d been too terrified to say anything, and so the footman had been duly charged, convicted and transported to the colonies for the crime. Somehow Jessica Hayward had stumbled on the truth. She’d tattled to Sir Henry and the result was he’d thrashed his only daughter and had bankrupted the little jeweler in Chalford who had bought all the trinkets from her. And, to keep Jessica Hayward’s mouth shut, he’d paid off her father—with money that Hayward had immediately drunk and gambled away.

If Sir Henry had given his daughter a reasonable allowance in the first place, she wouldn’t have been forced to take things. It wasn’t as if she were stealing. After all, she’d inherit these things eventually. It was all a great to-do about nothing.

After that, she’d been very careful to stay away from Jessica Hayward. But she’d spread stories about the girl and had turned people against her. With Lucas away at the war, it was easy to do. There was no one there to protect her.

Then Lucas had come home … and Jessica Hayward
had turned the tables on her. No one did that to her and got away with it.

Calmer now, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Many minutes passed before the pout on her lips curled into a smile. She opened her eyes. She would do as her husband asked. She would open the doors of Haig House to Jessica Hayward, but she would do it with a vengeance.

CHAPTER
7

A
fter dinner, Joseph went off to his workshop in the barn while Jessica and the sisters cleared up the kitchen. When the dishes were dried and put away, the sisters sat at the table and spread out a rug they were in the process of making from long strips of old clothes. The nuns did most of the talking, and Jessica listened with half an ear as they reeled off the names of some of their neighbors who had offered to come out to Hawkshill and help repair the place.

But Jessica had other things on her mind, and after donning her shawl, she unobtrusively slipped outside. In the cobblestone yard, she paused for a moment, deliberately opening her senses to everything around her. The tang of mint and lemon came to her from the overgrown herb garden. When she turned her head, she caught the not-unpleasant scent of farm animals and newly mown grass. In the soft glow of twilight, the outbuildings didn’t look so rundown.

She slowly traversed the length of the yard to the barn,
desperately searching for something she could recognize. There was nothing. Everything about Hawkshill was as unfamiliar to her as it was to Joseph and the sisters. What was worse was that she had no recollection of her father, either, and if Lucas was to be believed, she was better off not knowing.

Impatient with the sudden sting in her eyes, she opened the barn door and went in. Joseph was at his bench, examining one of the wheels from the wagon. He looked up at her entrance and gave her a toothless grin. He’d been expecting her, and so had the mare. Tulip whinnied to attract Jessica’s attention.

“She wants her sugar,” said Joseph.

He was a big man, with muscular arms and shoulders and thick-knuckled hands. Jessica could easily discern the fighter he must have been in his prime. He never spoke of that life, but she’d heard that he’d given it up when he’d accidentally killed an opponent.

He set the wheel down. “Heard about your pa and it’s sorry I am, right sorry.”

It shouldn’t matter, Jessica told herself. It was foolish to grieve for a father she couldn’t remember. “That’s all right, Joseph,” she said. “It happened three years ago, and I don’t remember him.”

He wiped an arm over his brow. “I can’t remember my pa, either, and from what I knows, it’s a blessing. Light’s not so good. Better stop now.”