Betrayed (8 page)

“Branson Hamilton is not a fool, William. He
knows precisely what he is doing. At best, this is a ceasefire. I reckon he has
not given up anything.” She sighed and moved toward the door. “Shall we rejoin
the party?”

He caught her by the arm. “Not yet. We’ve not
had a moment alone since I brought you to
Petherham
.
I was hoping for an opportunity to speak to you. Did you tell your father?”

“I did. He does not accept it and asks me to
persuade Branson to change his mind. I feel I have no choice.”

“Of course you do,” he said earnestly. “You know
my feelings, Clara. Dearest, you could become my—”

“No, you must not say the words! You’re engaged
to Miss Delisle and therefore not free to offer me your hand. I could not be
happy with you at the expense of another’s unhappiness.”

“You are so good, so kind.” Strachan leaned
in, touching her cheek with his gloved hand. “I must regretfully agree with
you, though it does me good to hear we are of the same mind in this. I must
marry Miss Delisle, without question. I was hoping you would consent to be my
mistress and make me the happiest man in England.”

Clara was genuinely taken aback. For a full
minute she could not frame a response—at least, none that would come from a
lady’s lips. A dockworker’s curse threatened to spill forth.

“If I have given you any cause to misapprehend
my friendship, I am sorry—”

“Friendship! We have progressed beyond
friendship. I was given to think you would entertain a more enticing offer.”

“You thought wrong. Forgive me, Captain. I
have nothing more to say.”

The syllables were all there and easily
expressed but Strachan seemed not to hear.

“You spread your legs for Branson. He
intimated you would do the same for me. What was that all about—that you prefer
my company to his—if not to suggest you were willing to be my mistress?”

Clara gazed at him in cold wonder. “You
will have to ask Mr. Hamilton that question. I haven’t the faintest idea what
was going on his mind with that remark and I have no interest. I
will
tell you, however, that it is
taking every ounce of my patience to tolerate your company at the moment.” She
extricated herself from Strachan’s grip and pushed past him to the door.

“Clara!”

She whirled about furiously. “You have made
your degrading offer; I have declined; there is nothing more to say. The
mistake was yours, Strachan. I am not the girl you left six months ago and you
are too greedy to see the woman I have become.”

Clara returned to the
ballroom with a racing pulse, shattered nerves and on the brink of tears. For
all her brave words, she was sickened by Strachan’s lechery and instantly the
doubts began to creep in that he had recognized a corruption in her soul. Why
else would the captain entertain the notion she would agree to be his mistress?
The room swam. She felt all eyes were on her, judging her every look.

Rescue came in the form of a red serge jacket
worn by a handsome young man of twenty-one. Mrs. Brockville rushed forward to
make the introductions and Clara accepted his appeal for a dance. She placed
her hand in Corporal Jack Denby’s and he called her Mrs. Hamilton.
He
did not see a depraved harlot. Denby,
(as he begged her to call him) was a graceful dancer and knew all the same
people she did. Best of all, he was on post in the spring when Clara had her
collapse; he’d heard nothing of that scandal, but he was a wealth of gossip
when it came to the Royal Family. Before Clara knew it, the bell had rung for
the midnight supper. Denby would have led her into the dining room but Edgar
approached and claimed the honour. Her brother was right—she had given the
young corporal enough of her time. The purpose of which had been served, to
keep Strachan at bay and distract her from thinking of Branson.

By the time the evening was over, Clara had
settled in her mind what she must to do.

ARTHUR HAMILTON was away from home for most of the morning.
Clara did not get a chance to speak to him until after luncheon. She found him
in his library, deep in conference with Captain Strachan.

“William! What are you doing here?”

“Clara, that was exceedingly rude. Captain
Strachan has told me of your disagreement and he has come in peace.” Her father
smiled broadly. “We’ve been having a long chat about your cousin, Branson. You
are just in time. Join us.”

“Father, I was hoping to have a word with
you in private. I have something rather urgent to discuss regarding Branson
Hamilton. He has informed me he is willing to withdraw his threat but there are
conditions. Can we talk?”

“I shall save you the trouble,” her father
said. “Strachan has told me everything and he has a solution. The captain has
offered, rather generously I might add, to loan me the sum in question. Branson
Hamilton may say what he likes at the shareholders’ meeting; he will not have
proof of wrongdoing. What do you think of that?” Arthur beamed and puffed out
his chest. “We shall beat the devil at his own game! He shall look the fool,
not me.”

Clara looked from one man to the other.
“What are the conditions Captain Strachan has place on this loan?”

Arthur reddened to a ghastly purple colour.
“What difference does it make if it means keeping your father out of prison?
You’ve let me down once already; do you mean to tell me you intend to let me
down again? When my very life is at stake! This house, your mother’s health and
your brother’s future are at stake, and yet you would begrudge us this, and for
what—
propriety
? That ship has sailed,
my girl. Based on what Strachan has told me, you threw your virtue away as well
as our good name. And yet you come here expecting my love and my protection and
money when you have done nothing to warrant it!”

“What your father is trying to say is we
are disappointed in your fall. Branson Hamilton has had you. No man will touch
you now. I have agreed to keep your family from ruin and you are correct—there
is a condition. It is not unheard of for married gentlemen to make
accommodations for mistresses. Before you reject my offer, hear me out. The
Hamilton name is attached to this scandal. You will all be dragged down if I do
not step in but I will not do it for your father or your mother or Edgar. I
will do for you alone.”

Arthur broke in. “You ought to feel
flattered. It is a great deal of money Strachan will be putting up, my dear.
After the captain’s marriage to Miss Delisle, he will settle you in an
apartment with a liberal allowance. It is an extraordinary offer. You won’t get
one better. Forgive my blunt speech but to a gentleman, you are spoiled goods. I
advise you to accept Captain Strachan’s offer and be glad of it. It is the
least you can do for me.”

“See here, Hamilton. The girl has feelings
and we must do our best to honour them.” Strachan turned to Clara. “It is a rational
proposal. There is no harm in accepting it and perhaps much good.”

She had used those very words only a month
ago to convince herself to sleep with Branson. Her eyes narrowed as she
examined Strachan. “Do you love me, William?”

He shifted his weight and met her eyes
uneasily. “Of course I do.”

“Why do men feel the need to lie?” Clara
mused aloud. “You don’t love me. You only had to say so. It was a simple
question, requiring a simple answer.” She turned to Arthur. “What you ask will
not be possible but I’m glad we’ve had this talk. It has clarified matters
between us and I feel satisfied I have done everything in my power to help
you.”

“Not everything,” Arthur said sullenly.

“Nevertheless, I can offer another solution
to your problem that will not require the selling of my soul to Captain
Strachan. You only have to confess everything to Branson, ask his forgiveness
and seek to make amends. If you do this, I believe he will help you as he said
he would. At the very least, you will have made a good start at mending your
relationship.”

Arthur’s face widened to an astonished
smile. “Seek his forgiveness—I’ll see him in Hell first! What’ve I done to the
likes of Branson Reilly the warrants an apology?”

“He told me the reason for your quarrel.
Father, perhaps we should wait and discuss this in private.”

Her father’s eyes hardened to the paternal
blank stare he assumed when he desired to bring the discussion to a close. “No,
we will talk about it now while I have a witness present. You have the wrong
end of the stick, my dear. Branson has no complaint to bring against me. I have
given the miscreant every opportunity; I have shown him utmost courtesy. I
demand to hear this so-called grievance he has concocted against me.”

“The grievance has one name: Grace Leeds.
My cousin told me what you did to his fiancée. Branson waited for the opportune
moment to exact his revenge. You gave it to him when you were suspected of
embezzlement. You were vulnerable and he took advantage of it. I was vulnerable
and he took advantage of that too. He has been planning his revenge for a long
time.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.
Who is Grace Leeds?”

Arthur’s complexion had gone ash-grey. He
turned away, facing the light from the window and absently adjusted the vase on
its base.

Does
your father still have that vase he prizes so much?

The
vase was taken from Windemere Hall after his brother died. Grace Leeds told her
about it. An insignificant detail but surely not one she could’ve imagined?

In that moment, Clara remembered
everything. It was like the flare of a lamp before its wick was trimmed. What
had been a dim, watery memory became as clear and tangible as the vase.

“You do remember her. You—you
hurt
her. Branson told me you did and I
didn’t believe him.”

“You were wise,” Arthur said coolly. “He is
lying.”

She shook her head firmly. “No. No. He
would not lie about something so painful to his heart. Grace was his betrothed.
She was his guest at Windemere Hall seven years ago. Branson was very specific.”

“Can he prove this allegation?” Strachan
interjected. “Where is this girl he claims your father harmed?”

“She is dead. Branson says she died at her
own hand.”

Arthur struck a sombre pose. “Well, that is
unfortunate. But such is the case with many young women. This young lady obviously
had mental frailties as well as loose morals.”

“Loose morals?” Clara’s head snapped up. “Why
do you say that? I never said anything about her morality. Tell me the truth,
Father. It is important I know. It has always been important. I have suffered
keeping your secret since I was a girl. I beg of you, tell me what happened to
Grace Leeds.”

“How should I know?” Arthur bellowed. “I
had nothing to do with it.”

“You had nothing to do with
what
?” Clara’s voice pitched higher. “Do
not try to deceive me, Father! I was there! I saw what you did. I saw it all,
and I did nothing to help her. That poor girl ... I failed her. I kept my
silence to protect you and win your approval.”

Her hands were clasped in repentance, but
her father would not look at her. “I made the wrong choice then, but I shall
not make the same mistake twice.
 
Since
you will not, I will go to the constabulary and give my testimony. Grace will
have justice posthumously.”

Arthur caught her by the arm as she tried
to leave and wrenched her back. “Are you mad? You will not be believed. You
were a child at the time; it will be my word against yours and you have been
under the care of a doctor. Clara, I am thinking of you. Do not make a greater
spectacle of yourself than you already have. This must
stop!
Take back every word you just said. Every word of it was a
lie. Do you hear me?”

“It was not a lie.
I was there
. I came down to the lake to swim. Miss Leeds had
promised to watch me. She was so pretty and lively, I liked her for that alone,
but she also took special notice of me so I ran all the way.

“But when I got there, I couldn’t see her.
And then.” Clara fought for breath. “And then I heard something quite terrible
... a sound, like crying or moaning, a keening noise that came from the summer
house at the edge of the lake. I came closer, as close as I dared. My heart was
pounding so loudly, the sound of it reached my ears. I drew near and peered
inside. Behind the curtain ... it was flapping ... a thin white cloth blowing
in the summer breeze....”

Her voice faded away.

“I thought as much. You didn’t see a thing
that could incriminate me.”

“Oh, but I did,” she whispered. Clara
clasped her hands together and wept. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I saw you
on top of Grace. I saw her legs on either side of your buttocks and you were
holding her arms down. The keening sound I heard was Grace crying. You were
hurting her. She was only seventeen-years-old.”

Arthur’s mouth worked and he looked like he
was going to be sick.

“You have no idea what you saw. I gave
Grace Leeds a tumble. What of it? She was willing—oh
yes
! She seduced
me
,
asking me to show her the summer house, asking me questions with an arch look
in her eye that meant she wanted something more than a tour. You are too
innocent to understand the ways of men, Clara, but girls like Grace Leeds are
not. She knew what she was doing. She wasn’t crying. Those are the sounds a
woman makes when she is having an orgasm. To put it bluntly, Grace was enjoying
herself.”

Clara would not be put off. “You were
married to my mother. If what you say is true, then why did you take Grace to
bed?”

“I am not without my faults, Clara. I do
not keep a mistress out of respect for your mother but I have enjoyed the
consolation of an obliging woman on occasion.”

She whirled away, balling her hands into
fists. “How can you stand before me and lie so contentedly! Spinning one
falsehood after another! I found her dress floating in the lake, Father. If she
consented, how did her dress—her beautiful red silk dress—wind up in the lake?
You tore it from her body and threw it there so she could not escape you! Grace
was trapped at the summer house in a state of undress, alone and ashamed, while
you were at the Hall laughing over tea. Branson found her and confronted you
with the crime.”

“Ah, well now we are getting somewhere! If
I recall correctly, you were called as a witness and you denied seeing
anything. You admitted going to the lake but nothing was out of the ordinary.
Am I to believe you have recalled the event down to the last detail after seven
years, when you could not remember a jot of it one
hour
after the alleged attack? It beggars belief! Branson has been
feeding you his lies.”

“He has her under some kind of spell, sir,”
Strachan added. “I’ve noticed it too. She will say whatever he instructs her to
say.”

“William, stay out of this. It does not
concern you. Branson and Grace have suffered for my silence. That day, the day
it happened, when Branson was asking me to tell him what I saw—I took one look at
you, Arthur, and my tongue froze in my head. I could not speak. How could I
tell anyone what I saw you do? You were my father.”

“I am still your father, Clara.”

“No, you are not. Not any more. I am sorry
for that,” she choked.
 
“More than you
can appreciate because I do love you, but I’m going to give my account to the
police. Whether they believe me or not, I cannot have this on my conscience any
longer.”

Clara moved to the door.

“You will not be going to the police, my
dear,” Arthur said firmly.

His tone stopped her.

“You are obviously having another collapse
of the nerves. A mental breakdown. It is not surprising given the events of the
past two weeks. The strain has been too much for you.”

Arthur rang the bell for one of the footman
as Clara looked on, at first puzzled and then in horror. Her father scribbled a
message on notepaper and handed it to the boy. “Deliver this to my solicitor in
Baker Street informing him my daughter Clara has to be admitted to Gateshead Insane
Asylum as soon as possible. Tell him it is urgent. And then send for the wagon
from the hospital to collect her.”

Clara tried to snatch the envelope out of
the footman’s hands and when that effort failed, she flung herself bodily at
her father.

“You were g-g-glad she killed herself! You
were glad your m-m-mess was disposed of and you would never be found out! You
thought no one knew what you did—with your victim dead, you were free—but I
saw
. Your twelve-year-old daughter was a
witness.
I was there
. I saw what you
did and I am going to tell everyone!”

“You are hysterical. Watch what you are
doing there, you almost broke the vase.”

Clara picked up her father’s prized
possession and pitched it violently against the wall. It exploded into a
thousand tiny shards, smashed out of existence.

“Phillip! Frederick! Come instantly!” Arthur
screamed.