‘I thought ... that is, I am certain someone said.... Does not Mr Markham have a brother in the military?’
‘Indeed, Lady Dansmere.’ Dominick himself broke into her hopelessly muddled speech to answer her. ‘I
had
a brother in the Army. Tom was killed at Fuentes de Onoro.’
‘I -I am so terribly sorry, sir,’ Elizabeth said with real contrition, for she remembered vividly the affection in Dominick’s voice when he had spoken of young Tom. ‘I must have misunderstood, then.’
‘Many brave men were lost in the Peninsula,’ Oswald remarked sententiously. ‘I myself had a cousin who succumbed to a fever in Madrid. Or was it Seville?’
‘Indeed,’ was all Dominick’s response.
‘Your brother, I take it, was in a
line
regiment?’ Oswald asked.
‘He was.’
Elizabeth felt that she must escape from this room or go mad. ‘I beg you all to excuse me,’ she said, rising gracefully. ‘I promised Selina that I would look in on her at this hour and read to her.’
There was a chorus of polite regret, ended by Dominick, who asked, ‘How is Selina progressing, Lady Barrowe? I have not seen her these several days.’
‘She is better, poor darling - though still not her old self as yet,’ said the concerned mother. ‘She would love to see you, I am sure, if you wish it.’
‘I would like to see her, of course,’ Dominick said, looking decidedly uncomfortable. He knew, as did Elizabeth, what was coming next.
‘Then do go up with Elizabeth,’ Dorinda decreed happily. ‘It will do her the world of good to have two such visitors.’ Dominick inclined his head in acquiescence, while Elizabeth did what she could to avoid such a calamitous development.
‘Perhaps Nicky would like to accompany us’ she suggested desperately.
‘If the little girl is still poorly,’ Miss Trottson cut in, ‘you don’t want to be wearing her out with too many visitors at once.’
‘Very true, ma’am,’ Dorinda agreed.
‘Besides,’ the old woman went on, bestowing her smile on both Nicky and the viscount, ‘I was hoping to get acquainted with both of these fine gentlemen. I am so seldom in such company, you know.’
It was a deliberate move on Miss Trottson’s part, Elizabeth realized. The others were now constrained, by common courtesy, to remain behind. The old lady was certainly no fool!
* * * *
Elizabeth preceded Mr Markham from the room. She swept down the hall and up the staircase with such speed that he could scarcely keep pace with her. Indeed, he very nearly stepped on the edge of her demi-train as she began to ascend. They walked in breathless silence while the sound of chattering voices receded behind them. When they reached the door to Selina’s bedchamber, Elizabeth opened it at once, slipping quickly through the opening. To her consternation, she found the little girl fast asleep.
‘We had best not waken her,’ the gentleman behind her said in a loud whisper.
‘Quite.’ Elizabeth’s own whisper was more of a subdued snap. Her nerves were as taut as a kite-string in a full gale.
They exited the room with infinite care, and Elizabeth - most impolitely - left Mr Markham to close the door softly behind him. She hoped to escape to the hall below with no further mishap. The man, however, was too quick for her. She had made not more than a dozen hasty steps, when he was beside her. She felt a large hand close like iron around her upper arm.
‘Whither away so swiftly, dear lady?’ he asked mockingly.
She was forced to halt. She looked up at him, then away again. He wore the look of a satyr, and she was more than ever conscious of the fact that they were alone. Anything might happen. Why were servants never about when they were needed?
‘Kindly unhand me, sir!’ she demanded.
‘So that you can run away again? I think not.’ He smiled a smile which frightened her even more than his words. ‘You are very accomplished at running off, are you not? Is it only me from whom you are so eager to flee, or is this how you treat all men?’
‘Mr Markham—’
‘Surely there is no need for such formality,
Bess.’
Elizabeth winced. None but he had ever called her by that name, and she could not but recall when he had uttered it as if it were a prayer. Now it was almost a snarl, a menacing prelude to the attack which she was certain was about to commence.
‘What do you want from me?’ she asked. ‘You act as though you hate me, but I have done nothing to you—’
‘Nothing?
His grip on her arm tightened agonizingly. ‘I have a son, madam - a son I have never known. A son who bears another man’s name. Is that nothing to you?’
She bit her lip savagely to keep from crying out in pain. ‘I am sorry,’ she ventured at length, amazed at her own control. But subterfuge was obviously useless. ‘I never meant for anything to happen as it has, but there is nothing I can do about it now.’
‘Indeed, you have done more than enough, have you not?’ He paused. ‘No doubt you found it highly amusing to bed a total stranger - a common clerk.’
‘How dare you!’ Elizabeth turned to face him once more, outraged at his presumption. ‘You were just as much to blame as I.’
He pulled her against him with cruel force, his face inches from her own as he lashed out at her. ‘It was not I,’ he growled, ‘who was married, madam. It was not I who lied about my name, my life - everything!’
For a moment, she could only stare up at him wordlessly. Even in his wrath he was magnificent, his eyes ablaze, his broad shoulders straining against the excellent cut of his fashionable riding-coat. With a sense of shame, she knew that even now she would give anything to feel his lips against hers. She wanted to press herself closer to him, to feel the warmth of his body. She closed her eyes against this insane temptation, holding herself rigid.
‘I know that what I did was wrong,’ she admitted. ‘But I could not have guessed what the consequences would be.’
‘Of course not,’ he sneered. ‘Being such an innocent
virgin,
how could you?’
‘For God’s sake, Dominick - stop! I cannot undo the past.’
She heard his sharp intake of breath before he responded, ‘And I cannot forget the past.’
Nor forgive it,
she thought. And how could she blame him? Whatever his faults, he had been honest with her that night. It was she who had so successfully deceived him. And now, appropriately enough, it was she who was being punished for her rash actions. It was apparent that he either would not or could not be reasonable.
‘What is it that you want?’ she asked him again.
‘My son,’ he said, with brutal simplicity.
‘And do you expect me to give him to you for the asking, sir?’ She could not keep the sarcasm from her voice.
‘I expect no more from you than I would from any woman with the face of an angel and the soul of a common slut.’
She felt as if he had physically struck her. But though she flinched, she made no other sign of the pain this man could so easily inflict.
‘You had best take care, Mr Markham,’ she said. ‘Nicky is my son, too. Fate has placed him in your path, but I have the power to remove him permanently from your influence.’
‘And I, madam, have the power to destroy you with a few well-chosen words.’ His face was like granite. ‘If the truth were ever known—’
‘And how many people would believe your tale?’ She drew away from him, hardening her resolve and determining to wound him as deeply as he had wounded her. ‘Who would take the word of a mere merchant over that of the Countess of Dansmere?’
She saw him pale, but he did not waver. ‘Enough people,’ he said, between clenched teeth, ‘to create the kind of scandal which I am sure you would rather avoid.’
‘And have you considered what that would do to your son?’ she asked. ‘For myself, I care nothing. Your threats do not frighten me. But I am a mother - and I swear to God that I will see you dead before I allow you to hurt or humiliate Nicky.’
She saw his hands clench, and thought for a moment that he was about to assault her with his fists as he had already done with his words.
‘I could kill you,’ he said, ‘with pleasure.’ She did not doubt him, either.
‘Well,’ she said, more calmly than she felt, ‘you must decide which is greater: your hatred for me, or your love for your son.’
On these words she turned and walked away. She felt ill. She knew her arm must be bruised beneath the pale blue of her gown, and her legs nearly gave way under her as she began to move. But it seemed that he was as eager as she to end their discussion, and he accompanied her in silence. It was all that Elizabeth could do to compose her countenance sufficiently to face the company below.
‘How is Selina?’ Dorinda asked, as soon as they entered the room. ‘Was she pleased to see you?’
‘I’m afraid,’ Dominick answered, before Elizabeth could speak, ‘that Selina was asleep, and so we did not have the pleasure of her company.’
‘If my cousin was asleep, why did you take so long to return?’ Nicky asked, unconstrained by the politeness which kept the others from voicing the same question.
There was an awkward pause, and Elizabeth was aware of the curious stares and the fact that Dominick had reddened ever so slightly.
‘Mr Markham.’ she said, ‘was interested in the portraits on the upper landing - particularly the one of old Aunt Gertrude. It was said that she was a witch.’
‘Your family history is most entertaining,’ Dominick added quickly, and Elizabeth prayed that no one would ask him to elaborate.
The others seemed quite satisfied with their mendacity, however. Dominick and his aunt soon bade them farewell, after a promise from the former that he would join Nicky and Lord Maples for a fishing expedition the very next day. Elizabeth supposed that their guests had achieved the purpose of their visit and were now eager enough to leave. Her ordeal was over - for the moment.
* * * *
‘Well, one thing is for certain: the boy is your son,’ Miss Trottson said, as she and Dominick pulled away down the drive and headed for Lammerton Hall. ‘Lord! I’d have known it at a glance.’
‘I’m afraid I did not,’ Dominick apologized.
‘No. You saw only the mother.’ His aunt gave him a look that was half amusement and half curiosity. ‘I am not surprised. Your countess is a rare beauty.’
‘Yes.’
‘So, what did you talk about while you were alone together?’
His aunt’s sudden question caught him quite off guard, although he should have been expecting it. ‘Surely you can guess,’ he retorted.
‘I don’t suppose it had anything to do with old Aunt Gertrude, whoever she was. Although,’ she added reflectively, ‘it was a plausible enough explanation.’
‘Oh, yes,’ he said, with a harsh laugh. ‘The countess is an expert liar.’
‘Now, that is not my impression of her at all,’ Aunt Winnie said. ‘I would say that she lies very ill. But there’s something about her that makes it seem foolish - even rude - to doubt her.’
‘She is a heartless, deceitful jade!’
His aunt’s eyes narrowed. ‘What did you say to her up there?’ she demanded. ‘You’d best spill the soup now, Dominick.’
‘I told her that I knew Nicholas to be my son, and that I was prepared to publish that fact.’
‘Lord, what a nodcock you are, nephew! Even a child could have handled things better than that. I’m sure Nicky would.’ She very nearly glowered at him. It was plain to see she was not best pleased. ‘What did she say to that?’
Dominick repeated the gist of his conversation with Elizabeth, while his aunt clucked her tongue and shook her head disparagingly.
‘What a cork-brained thing to do, to put her back up like that,’ she commented. ‘You will be lucky if she even allows you to see Nicky again.’
‘What would you have had me do?’ he ground out. ‘Beg?’
‘You could at least have tried to bridle that confounded temper of yours - which I can see you didn’t,’ she shot back, in no way intimidated. ‘Remember, she is a lady, a countess - and the mother of your child.’
Dominick looked at her in some consternation. ‘You sound almost as if you like her!’ he accused.
‘Well, so I do,’ Aunt Winnie said placidly.
‘Aunt! How can you?’ he cried, and very nearly allowed his reins to drop at this unexpected perfidy.
‘I must admit she wasn’t at all what I expected,’ Miss Trottson informed him. ‘She is proud, naturally, but not at all arrogant. She has kind eyes, like her son, and the sweetest smile. She has a great deal more sense than most young women nowadays, although there’s a certain reserve in her manner. But that could have been because of her peculiar situation today, I don’t know. She adores her little boy, that much is plain.’ Pausing for breath, she summed up this character sketch by adding, ‘I’d say she was a very proper lady.’
‘Then how,’ Dominick enquired, ‘do you explain her behaviour at that inn, eight years ago?’
‘How do you explain
yours?’
Once again, Dominick was disconcerted by his aunt’s forthright questions. ‘I - well—’ he stammered. ‘That is hardly the issue, Aunt. But if you must have it, I was totally bewitched by the woman. My God, I was tail-over-top in love with her after five minutes in her presence!’
‘And did you never think,’ she asked gently, ‘that she might have felt the same about you?’
‘Well, naturally, when I thought she was just a maid, I assumed - that is, I hoped - that she felt as I did. But now ... oh, it is impossible.’
‘Why should it be?’
‘A countess,’ he explained, taking care to keep his eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead, ‘does
not
fall in love with a clerk.’
‘A clerk fell in love with a countess, didn’t he?’ she replied, with some asperity.
‘It is not the same thing at all,’ he said, refusing to be persuaded. ‘If she cared for me, why then did she run off without a word?’
Aunt Winifred snorted, indicating her irritation at the obtuseness of her nephew. ‘What else could she do, poor girl?’ she asked. ‘Think, man! No doubt she knew she’d done wrong. It was too late then to tell you the truth. And besides, she had a husband waiting for her somewhere. She went back to him - which is just what she
should
have done.’
Dominick’s mind was all chaos. Could his aunt possibly have the right of it? Had Bess - that is, Elizabeth - really cared for him after all? Could he have misjudged her? And, more importantly, what did she feel for him now? With sudden shame, he recalled the name he had flung at her in his anger, less than an hour before. He remembered, too, the look in her eyes. He had hurt her. He had intended to hurt her. But he had also wanted - very badly - to kiss her! That was what had put the devil in him. Only now he felt as if he had struck a helpless child. She certainly could feel nothing but hatred for him after today.