In the Shadow of Arabella Read online

  During the weeks preceding the wedding, Rudley was neither unaware nor unappreciative of his sister’s efforts on his behalf. “Katherine told me you called on her yesterday, Meg, to take her shopping.”

  “Yes, of course,” his sister replied. “I suggested Madame Boutou to make Katherine’s gowns. She will need to take on extra help to do so much so quickly, but the result, I assure you, will be unexceptionable.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” he agreed. “I am obliged to you for taking the time to advise her.”

  “My dear Ned, as much as I care for Sophia Brent, you cannot think I would allow her to help Katherine choose the fabric and pattern for a wedding gown! You know I do not entirely approve of this hasty marriage, but if you will be married now, then your bride must be dressed in the finest London can offer.”

  The wedding ceremony itself progressed without incident; Oliver supported his brother as groomsman while Charity attended Katherine. Katherine’s fear that someone would connect her with Sir Humphrey was never realized. She had been determined to tell Rudley about her stepfather, but the opportunity never presented itself. In the weeks preceding the wedding she seldom found herself alone with him, and when she did, she found she could not bring herself to mention Sir Humphrey.

  Just two days before the wedding Katherine had received a letter from Miss Westleigh at Serena’s school. She regretted that Serena had taken to her bed with a mild stomach complaint; regretfully, she would be unable to make the trip south. At first disappointed by this turn of events, Katherine decided that perhaps it was for the best. She would have found it difficult to explain to her sister why she had not discussed their stepfather with her future husband.

  As Lady Finley had promised, Katherine’s gown was stunning. Crepe over ivory satin, it was high at the neck with long, full sleeves and buttoned cuffs. The bodice and full skirt were lavishly trimmed with lace and seed pearls. A veil of fragile gauze fell from a tiara of diamonds and pearls set skillfully into Katherine’s elaborately braided hair.

  The earl, always a meticulous dresser, was more splendid than usual and those few who knew him best noticed a subtle light in his eyes that kindled when he first saw his bride and lasted throughout the day.

  “He has made an excellent choice, Meg,” Oliver said as he joined his sister in a glass of champagne. He watched Rudley and Katherine across the room where they stood speaking with Charity and Mr. Everett.

  “I hope you may be right, Oliver. If he would only take time to consider. I cannot help but remember the haste of his first marriage and the tragedy—”

  Oliver interrupted her. “Katherine is nothing like Arabella. She is a sensible woman, mature. She will make the best possible wife for Ned.”

  “Yes, perhaps, but does she love him? And, even more important, can she make him happy?”

  “Ned seems to think so. And you and I, dear sister, will pray he is right.”

  Several hours later, when the newly married couple had left their guests behind and begun their journey south, Katherine found herself alone with her thoughts for the first time in many days. Her schedule had been so busy, so crammed with preparation that she had simply allowed herself to be swept along. As the spring countryside on the outskirts of London rolled by her window, she took time to reflect on the enormity of what she had done.

  In the weeks before the wedding she had no doubts at all. It was only during the service, when she was making her vows, that the reality struck her. She had known Lord Parnaby for years, had thought for several of those years that she would be his wife. Now, in a few short weeks, she had tossed that dream to the wind and accepted Lord Rudley instead. A sickening doubt overcame her as she realized she had promised the remainder of her life to a man she had not known long—did not know well. She did not even know him well enough to know if he intended to keep the vows he had made to her. It was, after all, not uncommon for married men to have mistresses. Clearly, for many of them, their marriage vows were meaningless.

  “You are very quiet,” Rudley said, interrupting her thoughts. “Are you tired?”

  “No. I was thinking how unprepared I was for the ceremony. I had no idea how solemn … how profound it would be to take an oath before God … before all those people. It is almost frightening to think how permanent, how final it is.”

  “Are you feeling regret that you married me?”

  “No. Not regret, more like … more like fear.”

  “Fear of what?”

  “Of the things I do not know—the many things I do not know about you.”

  “Why must these be things to fear?’’

  “They need not be, of course,” she agreed. “No doubt I am being silly.”

  “Not in the least. Don’t you know I have the same insecurities you have? None of us can ever be certain that the decisions we make are the proper ones, that the road we choose is best. We do as well as we can and must be satisfied with that.”

  Emboldened by this confidence, Katherine asked, “Did you truly mean the vows you spoke to me today?” He drew breath to speak, but she continued quickly. “Do you feel that a marriage should be as the church decrees, a union of two, with mutual honor and respect … and faithfulness?’’

  “I meant—literally—every word I spoke to you today,” he affirmed. “I believe that the best, the truest marriage, is the one we vowed today to make.”

  “But your first marriage,” she said. “You intended it to last a lifetime.”

  “Yes, I did. And I was faithful to Arabella until she broke faith with me. She lied to me, deceived me, and in the process destroyed the love I had for her. A marriage must be held sacred by both partners, Katherine; one cannot do it alone.”

  Succumbing to a fatigue she had earlier denied, Katherine rested her head against Rudley’s shoulder. Weary from weeks of preparation and the wedding day itself, she soon slept and woke only when the coach slowed to make the turn onto the drive leading to Rudley Court.

  “Where are we, my lord?” she asked.

  “We have arrived at Rudley Court. It has grown dark, but there is nearly a full moon and you can see the lake.”

  Hearing the warmth in his voice, Katherine knew he was happy to be home and she was relieved. She had feared that the events that had driven him away had given him a permanent dislike of the place.

  She looked where he directed. The road skirted the side of a gently sloping hill; below them to the left was the lake. In the calm night air the smooth surface of the water reflected the moon in a silvery glow. She could see the outline of a bridge ahead, silhouetted against the gray sky.

  “The bridge spans the stream that feeds the lake,” Rudley said, “When my great-grandfather came into the title, he had the stream dammed to form the lake. He was an avid fisherman and knew no greater joy than having his own well-stocked fishing haven no more than a stone’s throw from the door.”

  The horses’ hooves clattered over the bridge, and the house soon appeared on the right, a large imposing façade. As the coach drew up, the great front doors were thrown open and yellow light streamed out onto the wide stone steps and spilled into the graveled drive.

  Not waiting for the footman, Rudley leaped down from the coach, offering Katherine his hand. She stepped down carefully, stiff from the long drive.

  “Welcome to Rudley Court, Katherine,” he said quietly. “May you always be happy here.”

  She smiled warmly at him. “I am sure I shall be, my lord.”

  “Come then,” he said. “My household will be eagerly waiting to meet their new mistress.”

  Indeed, there was a long line of his lordship’s retainers awaiting them in the hall. They were greeted first by his secretary, Mr. Kendall, then by his butler, his housekeeper, his daughter’s governess, his nephew’s nurse, and so on down to the lowliest kitchen maid who blushed as she curtsied to her new mistress.

  Unprepared for the size of Rudley’s household staff, Katherine was overcome by this welcome, but she hid her surpri
se well, greeting each of the servants in turn and accepting their congratulations and welcome.

  “I was expecting to see Lady Pamela and Master Nicholas,” Katherine said when she noticed the children were not present.

  Miss Shaw, Lady Pamela’s governess, stepped forward. “Excuse me, my lady, Master Nicholas is visiting with his mother’s family in Sussex, and Lady Pamela has a bad cold and has stayed in her room. She was most anxious to see you both tonight to welcome you home, but I explained to her that you would perhaps be fatigued after your journey.”

  Katherine turned to her husband. “I would like to meet Lady Pamela tonight.”

  “Very well,” he said, “we will look in on her as soon as we have changed.”

  Instructing his butler to have dinner served in one hour, Rudley gave Katherine his arm and together they ascended the massive oak staircase that rose from the center of the hall and divided into halves, one half serving each wing of the rambling Tudor building. They followed the branch to the right and walked some distance along the corridor.

  “The original building ended here,” Rudley said. “My grandfather added the part we are now entering. I have always loved this house. I hope you will find it comfortable.”

  He finally stopped at a door to the left of the passageway. “These are your rooms. The baggage coach preceded us by several hours, so most of your trunks should be unpacked by now. If you need anything you have only to ask the housekeeper, Mrs. Windom.”

  He opened the door and they entered the large bedchamber together. “These were once my mother’s apartments—and later Arabella’s,” he said. “Arabella had them done in blue, which she felt suited her complexion. I had them redone after her death, and you see them now much as they were in my mother’s time. You are, of course, free to change anything you like to suit yourself. If you see any pieces about the house that you admire, simply inform Reeves and he will have them carried here.”

  They had advanced to the middle of the room and Katherine looked about in admiration. Walls of pale yellow harmonized with window and bed hangings of deep gold. The furnishings were tasteful and elegant. Double doors stood wide to reveal an adjoining sitting room with vases and bowls of red and yellow flowers on every table. “This is a charming room,” she said, “and it pleases me just as it is. I begin to think your mother and I would have had a great deal in common.”

  When she turned to Rudley, she surprised a troubled frown on his face. Stepping close, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Katherine, you must know these rooms hold many memories for me—happy ones, and unhappy ones as well.”

  For the first time since she had known him, she heard apprehension in his voice and suddenly realized how vulnerable he could be, how easily hurt by those he trusted. Arabella had hurt him in that way, and Katherine knew it had to be difficult for him to be here again … remembering.

  Instinctively she reached out to lay her hand on his cheek. “Our future begins today,” she said. “The past cannot be forgotten, for it has already become a part of us. But if we keep it in perspective we will manage well enough.”

  He covered her hand with his own and, turning his head, gently kissed her fingers. “I am sure you are right. If you should want me, my apartments are through this door. I will collect you in thirty minutes. Will that be sufficient time?”

  She nodded and smiled as he disappeared through the connecting door. No sooner had the door closed than a young maid appeared with hot water, which she poured into Katherine’s basin. As soon as her task was accomplished, she curtsied and introduced herself. “My name is Bess, m’lady. If you should like to tell me which dress you wish for dinner, I shall fetch it for you.”

  “Thank you, Bess. There is a burgundy evening gown with black lace. Did you see it?”

  “Yes, m’lady, I did. I will find it straightaway.”

  After she washed, Katherine brushed and rearranged her hair, then changed her gown. She was ready when Rudley returned at the appointed time.

  They walked nearly to the end of the hall before he stopped at Pamela’s apartments. He knocked briefly, and when a quiet voice answered “Come in,” he opened the door and swung it wide for Katherine to precede him.

  The room was brightly decorated in rose and white. A large four-poster bed hung with dark rose silk stood against the far wall. In it, propped up against half a dozen pillows, was Katherine’s stepdaughter. At the sight of her father and his new wife, the child scrambled to the edge of the bed, slid onto the carpet in her bare feet, and dropped a creditable curtsy.

  “Katherine, allow me to introduce my daughter, Lady Pamela. Pamela, this is Lady Rudley.”

  “How do you do, my lady?” Pamela replied politely, then added shyly, “Welcome home, Papa.” She was clearly pleased to see them, but once she had finished her greeting an awkward silence fell. Since Rudley did not seem disposed to bridge the gap, Katherine stepped forward and smiled at her.

  “I am delighted to meet you, Lady Pamela, but please do climb back into bed before you take another chill.” Pamela glanced self-consciously at her toes and then did as she was bid. Katherine approached the bed. “Do you mind if I sit here?” Pamela shook her head mutely as Katherine helped to tuck in the comforter and then seated herself on the edge of the bed. “Your father and I are sorry to hear you are not feeling well.”

  She glanced up at the earl, who had advanced with her and stood at the bedside. “Since you could not come down to greet us,” he added, “we decided to come up to you.”

  “Miss Shaw would not let me come down, though I wanted to,” Pamela said. “It will be wonderful having you home to stay!”

  This one artless comment made it clear to Katherine that Pamela regretted her father’s absence from her life. Katherine could not conceive of such an arrangement. She had been only three years older than Pamela when her father died; she would remember the pain of his loss all her life. If Katherine, at Pamela’s age, had endured months of separation from her father, she would have been instantly into his arms for a hug and a kiss. Yet here were Rudley and his daughter, speaking to each other civilly like two acquaintances meeting casually on the street.

  Indeed, by his own admission, Rudley barely knew his daughter. Katherine suspected it was hard for him to separate the child from the mother, a woman who had been a source of great pain and disillusionment.

  Katherine saw at once that Pamela had inherited her father’s eyes: deep-set and dark blue. Her hair, however, was pale yellow and hung in thick curls nearly to her waist. She did not think Pamela would ever be the great beauty her mother was said to have been, but she had no doubt the attractive child would grow to be a handsome young lady. Katherine quit Pamela’s room with a promise to visit again on the morrow. Pamela, in her turn, promised to rest in order to speed her recovery.

  The earl and his new countess retraced their steps to the main house, descended the stairway, and turned toward the dining room. As they crossed the hall, the dark mahogany doors of a drawing room stood wide directly before them. Katherine could not resist stepping inside.

  “What a lovely room!” she exclaimed. The room was wainscoted and hung with pale blue figured paper. The far wall embraced a massive fireplace, finely wrought in stone. A cheerful fire burned in the grate, and despite its generous size the room was warm and inviting. Window hangings of dark blue velvet provided the dominant color, while the furnishings had obviously been chosen with a discriminating eye. Many were rare and beautiful.

  “This was my mother’s favorite room,” the earl remarked. “She chose the colors and fabrics used on most of the pieces here.” He walked toward the fireplace, drawing Katherine’s attention to the large full-length portrait that hung over the mantel. “This was my mother. She was Miss Rosalind Ashley before she married. This portrait was painted in the first year of her marriage. She and her family were our neighbors to the west. A distant cousin has inherited Weiring and lives there now.”

  “She was beautiful,” Katherin
e said simply.

  “There were many who thought so, even though her dark coloring is considered more fashionable now than at the time of her debut.”

  “I see now where you and your brother John inherited your dark hair.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “And Oliver and Meg are fair, like my father. There is a fine portrait of him hanging in the picture gallery. You must remind me to show it to you.”

  Katherine’s attention was drawn to a petit-point chair standing to one side of the fireplace. It seemed out of place in such an immaculate room, for it was worn and shabby, much in need of repair.

  Rudley read her thoughts. “You are thinking that chair could do with some refurbishing. My housekeeper will agree with you, but I will not permit it. The scene depicted there is this house and the lake in the foreground. Every stitch was placed with great skill and care by my mother, who was a notable needlewoman. It is a comfortable chair and often used, so it has become worn, but it is one of a kind and therefore irreplaceable. I think I was younger than Pamela when my mother finished it, which means it is older than you are, Katherine.”

  Katherine, no mean needlewoman herself, could see that endless hours had been expended on the elaborate design. It showed great attention to detail and perspective; she could easily understand why Rudley would not wish to part with it.

  “Well, I cannot speak for you, madam wife,” the earl said, “but I am nearly perished with hunger.”

  “I am so sorry,” she apologized. “I am keeping you from your dinner. But there is so much to see.”

  “And you shall see it all,” he promised. “But not tonight. We will have our dinner and then get some well-deserved sleep. This has been a tiring day for both of us, and I have no doubt you will want to be up with the sun to go riding.”