In the Shadow of Arabella Page 24

  “Rudley!” Parnaby exclaimed, trying to sound pleasantly surprised but unable to keep a hint of incredulity from his voice.

  Rudley greeted them both before addressing Parnaby. “I have been visiting with your mother and I was hoping to have a word with you. Perhaps you could accompany me to my carriage.”

  “Certainly.” After assuring his wife that he would join her for dinner, Parnaby left the house with the earl. As they walked down the drive toward the stables, Parnaby said, “I must say you are the last person I ever expected to see here.’’

  “Your mother said exactly the same thing.”

  “I cannot imagine what we could possibly have to discuss.”

  “Can you not? You saw Katherine when she was here in May.”

  “Yes. I saw her once. We met each other quite by accident here in the stable-yard. I escorted her back to Harrington Manor.’’

  Rudley said nothing but regarded Parnaby steadily with one eyebrow raised.

  “Very well,” Parnaby continued guiltily. “Obviously she told you I did more than escort her. But it was months ago. Ancient history, in fact. If you have come here with some belated intention of calling me out, you can forget it. I am a happily married man now, and I do not intend for my wife to become a widow.’’

  When Rudley persisted in stony silence, Parnaby demanded, “What? What else do you want to know?”

  “I want your version of what happened that day.”

  Parnaby sighed. “I was feeling sorry for myself. I thought I had made the world’s greatest mistake in my choice of bride. I kissed Katherine; she pushed me away. As it turns out, I was wrong. My marriage is working out well—quite well.”

  When he saw that Rudley was still frowning, he insisted, “It was only a kiss! Nothing worth shooting a man for. Besides, she made it perfectly clear she wanted nothing from me.”

  Rudley stopped walking abruptly, and his hand on Parnaby’s arm brought them face-to-face. “I have only one more question and I want an honest answer. Before I ask it, I give you my word that regardless of your answer, I will not call you out or take any other action that would endanger either your life or your happy marriage.”

  Parnaby looked at his companion as if he had taken leave of his senses. “What is the question?”

  “Have you at any time during your relationship with Katherine been intimate with her?”

  “What?” Parnaby nearly yelled at him. “Are you out of your mind? What kind of a cur do you take me for?’’

  Rudley’s voice was deadly calm as he said, “You have not answered the question.”

  “The answer is no. I loved Katherine. I would never have done anything to compromise her.”

  Henderson had been a groom at Rudley Court since he was fifteen—from the days when the previous earl was still alive. He had ridden beside the present Lord Rudley since the early days when he first mastered the skill of driving a four-in-hand. He had been with him through the years of his estrangement from his first wife and his service in the military. During that time he had often seen his employer quiet and thoughtful, using words sparingly. Never had he known him as reticent as on the return trip from Lincolnshire. For two days Rudley drove in complete silence. He left it to Henderson to deal with the changes of horses; he ordered a room or a meal with the fewest words possible.

  When they arrived at Rudley Court in the late afternoon, the earl handed the reins to his groom and then swung down from the carriage. “Thank you, Henderson. I am sorry I was such poor company this trip.”

  Startled by this outpouring of words after hours of silence, Henderson mumbled, “You need not apologize, m’lord.”

  As the curricle rolled away, Rudley paused for a moment to look up at the facade of the house. As each mile passed on the way home, he had become more and more aware of how impossible it would be to confront Katherine. He wanted to go anywhere but back to her, do anything but face her. But he had promised he would come back and he knew he could not add cowardice to the list of his transgressions against her.

  Inside the house he went quickly to his rooms and ordered a hot bath. Afterward he dressed carefully for dinner, but when the time came, he found he could not go down. He took off his coat and then untied his neckcloth and tossed it on the bed.

  In the salon downstairs Serena and Katherine were awaiting dinner when the door burst open and Oliver strode in.

  “When did you get back?” Katherine asked, moving to greet him with a kiss.

  “About an hour ago. Nick has already galloped upstairs to find Pam and no doubt eat a monstrous dinner. I cannot believe the amount of food he can stow away.’’

  As dinner was announced, Oliver asked, “Is Ned joining us?’’

  “He is not home. He had to go away on business.”

  “He may have been away, but he is home now. The lads were stabling his team when I arrived.”

  The three sat down to dinner, Oliver sharing news of the Harringtons and of his two-week visit with his betrothed. His wedding was just over two months away, and he complained of how hard it had been to leave Charity and how he wished the wedding was over so they could be together. Then, in the next breath, he was bemoaning the great amount of work necessary to set the dower house to rights and swearing he could not possibly have everything ready in time. When the ladies retired to the drawing room after dinner, he hurried off in search of Kendall to demand his always efficient assistance.

  Serena and Katherine were left feeling as if a small whirlwind had passed over them. “Your brother-in-law is clearly in a lovesick condition,” Serena commented.

  “I, for one, hope he never recovers,’’ Katherine said. “He has made Charity wonderfully happy.’’

  The sisters spent a quiet evening together and retired early, Katherine carefully following the doctor’s orders. She was in bed reading when there came a quiet knock on the door connecting her rooms to Rudley’s.

  She said, “Come,” and was surprised to see her husband partially dressed for dinner. She wondered briefly why he had not joined them. Then he moved into the light of her candles and the expression on his face drove all thought of his apparel from her mind. His face was tired and drawn, his expression grave.

  “Ned, what is wrong? Why did you not come down to dinner?”

  “I had to talk to you alone, so I waited for you to come up.”

  He walked to the open curtain and looked out to where a pale sliver of moon etched a path across the shadowy lake.

  “I owe you an apology,” he said. “God, how pitiful that sounds! I have behaved in an unforgivable fashion. I am an utter and complete fool.”

  Shocked to hear such words pouring with great pain from her husband, Katherine said, “Why? … What? … Please do not say such things. You are not a fool … You have not behaved—”

  “Katherine,” he interrupted, “I have just come from Lincolnshire. I spoke with Parnaby’s mother—his blind mother, the one you visited every day. I spoke with Parnaby himself. He told me about the kiss, that you pushed him away.”

  Some moments passed in silence while Katherine took in this shower of words. Finally she said quietly, “I should have told you about it myself.”

  “He told me you had never been lovers.”

  “I told you that, too.”

  “I did not believe you.”

  “No.”

  He sat despondently in the chair next to the bed, his hands folded between his knees, his voice thick with emotion. “That tiny, perfect child was mine.”

  There was a long pause before Katherine said quietly, “Nurse told me you saw the baby that morning.”

  “Yes. I did.”

  “Would you tell me about her?”

  “I had planned to when you were stronger. She was born at about four-thirty. I saw her for the first time shortly before six. She was incredibly small, but perfect. Bailey said from the beginning that she was too weak to survive, but she wiggled and squirmed and made tiny, almost inaudible noises. She
even had her eyes open whenever she was awake! I remember being amazed by that.

  “They would not allow me to sit alone with you in those early hours, so I stayed with her. Mostly she slept. That night, while I was riding down here, all I could think about was you and your well-being. Then, when Nurse asked me if I wanted to see the baby, I went in to her and I really did not know what to expect—how I would feel.

  “What I did feel is rather hard to explain. When I looked at her, I could suddenly see how much you must have loved her as you nurtured her with your own body, and in that moment I wanted to protect her for your sake, and I would have done anything in my power to keep her safe for you. But it was God’s will that she be with Him. I held her when she was christened. Sometime around nine o’clock they told me I could sit with you, and shortly afterward she died. The doctor said she did not suffer but only went to sleep and did not wake again.”

  Katherine listened without interruption. Tears sprang to her eyes almost as soon as he began speaking and occasionally one would overflow and fall onto her folded hands. She looked up as he handed her his handkerchief, and she steadied her voice to say, “You never told me what name she was given.”

  “I had her christened Rosalind. Rosalind Katherine Seaton.”

  Rudley had named the child after his own beloved mother! “But you did not believe she was yours,” she said.

  “When the rector asked what name, I said Rosalind Katherine, I did not even think about it. She was yours and you loved her. That was enough.”

  Katherine stared unblinking at her husband and in that moment a great deal of healing took place.

  “But I failed her,” he said. “I should have been here. I called you a liar. I accused you of infidelity. I read your diary, invaded your privacy. Oliver said you were depressed. That was my fault, too.”

  Katherine slid from the bed to kneel in front of him. She wrapped her hands around his clasped ones.

  “Ned, I may have been depressed; I certainly missed you. But I loved our baby, and I did everything as I should. I ate well, slept a great deal, obeyed the doctor to the letter. But she came early. It is not your fault; it is no one’s fault.”

  He looked up to meet her eyes. “For two entire days I have been asking myself why I could not simply believe you. Why did I think the worst of you, assume the worst had happened between you and Parnaby? It is almost as though I look for ways to make myself miserable—to do my best to destroy all that is good and true in my life.”

  “You told me once that your first wife was not honest with you, that she deceived you. I think perhaps it is difficult for you to trust.”

  “But you are nothing like Arabella,” he said. “She purposely lied to me—planned her deception.’’

  “I think you should tell me about her,” Katherine suggested. “Everything. All she did, all she said. If you will do that, then I promise to tell you all the awful things about Sir Humphrey that I have wanted to forget. Then perhaps we could start again, with no secrets.”

  “All right,” he agreed. “I will tell you—but not tonight.” He rose and, taking her hands, pulled her to her feet. “I think you should be in bed. It is cold and the doctor was very clear about the amount of rest you need. Sleep now. We will talk again in the morning.”

  He waited while she got into bed, then added several logs to the fire and carefully placed the firescreen before blowing out her candles. He said good night then and left.

  Katherine was disappointed. After the intimate conversation they had shared, she had hoped he might offer her a kiss on the cheek or at least take her hand in parting. It was clear from what he had said that he blamed himself not only for doubting her but for the death of the child as well. She knew that simply saying it was not so, would not take away the guilt he felt.

  The following morning Katherine had Gordon walk with her to the bench in the rose arbor. He settled her there comfortably, carefully tucked a rug over her lap, and promised to come and fetch her in twenty minutes.

  It was early February, but the day was fine. A bright winter sun had warmed the stone bench and the brick wall behind her. From this location behind the house she could not see the lake, but she had a wonderful view of the park and the forest to the south—mature trees stripped of their leaves by winter. She realized that in no time at all they would be green again with the promise of another spring. The sun on her face was warm, the fresh air exhilarating after weeks indoors.

  Katherine had enjoyed her outing for only a few minutes when she saw Rudley walking toward her across the lawn. She suddenly remembered the last time they had been there together, the day he said there would be no divorce. He had been so cold, so detached, but as he came to her now there was no indifference in his eyes and only concern in his voice when he spoke. “Gordon told me he brought you here. May I sit with you?”

  “Please do.”

  He sat down beside her, remaining silent for a few moments. When he spoke, he echoed her earlier thoughts. “I am reminded of the last time we met here. My behavior that day was abominable.”

  “Why do you say so? You behaved as you felt. There can be no fault in that.”

  “No, you are mistaken. I did not say what I felt. Far from it. I went away that day allowing you to think I hated you and … Katherine, I have never hated you. I do not believe I ever could.”

  He rose suddenly and, walking a few paces away, stood with his back to her. “I made a lofty speech on our wedding day about honoring marriage vows, then, hypocrite that I am, I deserted you at the first sign of trouble without even giving you an opportunity to explain.”

  “You had provocation.”

  He turned to face her. “Enough provocation to think the worst of you? Oliver did not! He thought you must have had some logical explanation for your behavior. But I would not even listen when it was offered me!”

  “You cannot compare your reaction with Oliver’s. I am not his wife; he was not the one who felt betrayed. When you asked me to marry you, Ned, I tried to explain that there were things about me that you did not know. I had no wish to deceive you or to misrepresent myself.

  “I was wrong not to tell you about Sir Humphrey. And I should have told you about meeting James when I went north. I had heard he was in France, otherwise I would never have gone near his house. But his mother is a dear friend and I so wanted to see her.”

  When she paused, he sat again and after a few moments offered, “After Arabella, I swore to myself that if I ever married again I would be so cautious, take my time, choose a wife with utmost care.

  “Then I met you, and wanted you, and ignored all that I had promised myself. I put my trust in you—and I was not disappointed. During those days following our drenching in the rain, I was as certain as any man could be that you loved me. But when I heard what your stepfather said, when I saw the list of names you kept to choose a husband, it all seemed so sordid.”

  Even as she reached out a hand to touch him, he rose once again from the bench. “Ned, I am so sorry. I never meant—”

  “No, Katherine,” he interrupted, turning to face her. “Do not apologize. It is my place to do that. For months I have regretted the words I spoke to you the day I left here. I failed to control my anger, and I refused to hear your explanations. I was wrong, and I am sorry.”

  “I did not mind your shouting at me,” Katherine insisted. “It was easier for me to accept than your cold indifference the day we spoke here.”

  “Indifference!” he exclaimed. His eyes softened, remembering. “When I saw you standing there, with the roses in your arms and about your feet, I could not believe how sweet it felt just to be close to you again—for despite everything … I loved you still … as I love you now.”

  She smiled up at him, a smile threatened by tears. She brushed them away and then laced her fingers in her lap, gripping them tightly together. “When I first met you,” she said, “I found you attractive, but I thought you were only being kind because of your friendship
with the Brents. Later, when you sought me out, I was flattered. In the midst of my upside-down world you seemed so steady, so secure and sure of yourself. Sir Humphrey had been getting progressively harder to live with. His gambling was out of control; his drinking started earlier each day. He was always begging me for money because he was spendthrift with his quarterly rents. When he announced that he intended to marry Serena to a toothless fifty-year-old man, I was forced to act. I resolved to marry. I wanted James, but he could not afford to marry me. I told him I would not wait, for as much as I cared for him, my first obligation was to Serena. When you asked me to marry you, the security you represented was the most tempting thing anyone had ever offered me.

  “With every day that passed after our engagement and after our marriage, I became more certain I had made the right decision. We got on so well together, and I was positive that I could be a good wife. I went north to strike a bargain with Sir Humphrey. I assigned my income to him in return for guardianship of Serena. Lord Harrington had the papers drawn up. It was all tidy and legal.”

  When he frowned, she said, “I should have told you about that, too. If you had known my real reason for going north, you might not have believed Sir Humphrey. Then, after you and I … after we became close … when I could have spoken, I found I no longer wished to. I was so happy—we were so happy—I did not want to spoil it. James and Sir Humphrey and everything to do with them did not seem important anymore. I wanted never to think of that unhappy time in my life ever again.”

  She paused, giving him time to respond. When he said nothing she continued. “When I first went to London, I was in love with James. When you asked me to marry you, I was still in love with him, but I knew he was lost to me. When he kissed me in Lincolnshire, I did not like it. Partly I felt such behavior was a betrayal of you, but even more than that I found that his kiss no longer excited me. In fact, it left me feeling nothing at all.