Betrayed Countess (Books We Love Historical Romance) (25 page)

Bettina stifled an angry whimper. She massaged her aching head and sat at the little table. “I was condemned by lies then. Now….”

Maddie came to hover over her in a rustle of stiff apron. “I try not to listen to gossip. God knows they’ve jawed plenty ’bout me in the past. But I feel you are a sister to me. Like I’m responsible, bein’ you was just a child when you come.” Her tone softened. “Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

Bettina sighed and stared up at the blackened rafters where herbs hung in baskets. She inhaled the piquant smells. “Last night … I thought I became a woman. This morning—”

“You slept with him, didn’t you.” It was an accusation, not a question. Maddie’s green eyes turned sad. She sunk into the chair opposite. “Lord save us, as Ann would say.”

“I was weak. I thought he loved me.” Bettina’s throat tightened, but she refused to cry again. She gripped the chair edges. “I should have been betrothed first, it is true. But it is done.”

“An’ what did he say this morn?”

“I thought he needed me, as I did him. But he put up excuses as to why he cannot seek a divorce.” Her voice rose in pitch. “I am a fool.”

“Nay, you just be a trustin’ young girl.” Maddie chewed her lower lip, a habit she had when nettled. “Worthless men, the whole lot of ’em. He don’t want no serving wench, aye?”

“I am more than … it does not matter. The terrible thing is, I think I still love him.” Her admission, for some bizarre reason, eased the tension knotting up inside. She tried to slam down the idea of her destroyed virtue. “But I will never trust him again.”

“Aye.” A brittle laugh escaped Maddie’s lips. “Didn’t nobody tell you, love don’t make sense? Comes out o’ nowhere and knocks you over when you ain’t looking.” She stood, smoothing her apron in deliberate strokes. “But, here’s my advice, don’t never let him take you to bed no more.”

Bettina remembered his kisses, the sweet sensations before it turned painful. That tantalizing unknown undid her. The iciness of their parting froze over that memory. “You do not have to worry about that. He will never take advantage of me again.” She made a decision. The idea of London loomed up once more before her—then so did Frederick’s sweet little face.

Maddie took two bowls from the cupboard, spooned in gruel and set one in front of Bettina. She then poured them tea from the chipped crockery teapot. Seated again, Maddie looked thoughtful. She turned to stare at Bettina. “I loved a married man once.”

“Oh?
Vraiment?
” Bettina always pictured Maddie as a force that needed no one. Glad for a shift in subject, she picked up a spoon and stirred the gruel, though her appetite was now gone.

“Aye, me. Hard to imagine, eh? Be a long time ago. I was sure he were gonna leave his wife. Wanted to believe everything he told me. The truth of it, even slept with him a few times.
But he soon tired o’ me and went back to her. I learnt a cruel lesson. Ruined me for any decent future.”

Bettina digested that painful revelation. She stirred milk into her tea. “I am sorry. But this should have been different. Everett’s wife is already gone. She left with his blessing. He told me the whole marriage was a
… a blunder.”

“If he spoke the truth.” Maddie thumped a knuckle on the marred table, rippling the liquid in both their cups. “Don’t let no man trifle with your feelings, child. Be brave, an’ walk away. Attend to one who’s been there.”

“I will. I will be strong.” Bettina forced a smile. She would walk away, or rather ride away, to London. Frederick would have to survive without her.

“Good. You can hide your sorrows by workin’ in the taproom this eve. Kerra be down with a queasy ailment my mint tea ain’t cured.”

Bettina took a sip of gruel and fought the bile that rose in her throat. Maybe Everett gave excuses about divorce because he knew his wife to be dead. Was she a bigger fool than she thought to have dismissed that rumor?

* * * *

Bettina didn’t relish her return to the manor, the place of her most dismal failure, but shook this off. She’d half expected the coach not to come for her, but it did, as if nothing had changed from four days previous. The Bronnmargh library, once a refuge from the inn, now looked somber and cold, a wooden box to suffocate her. Only Frederick’s expectant face lifted her sorrow.

“Uncle went to London again.” He plopped down on his stool. “More business, all the time. But Uncle acted so grumpy, it’s good he went. Even Mr. Slate thought so.”

“I am sure he had reasons to be grumpy.” Bettina hadn’t realized how cramped her muscles were at the idea of seeing Everett, until they relaxed at the relief that he was out of the area. He was probably in the arms of a London mistress, someone who required no commitment. Bettina chased away her lingering thoughts of him, her naive hopes that he’d have rushed down to the inn and retracted everything he’d said. She jerked open the desk drawer to retrieve a pack of cards. She was resolved to earn a few more weeks’ pay, let the child down gently, and travel to London to search for her mother.

“Your uncle spends a lot of his time traveling back and forth to London. I am surprised he does not move closer.” Bettina shuffled the cards for a game she’d devised using French nouns and verbs. “Sidwell cannot be very interesting for him, out here with little society.”

“His offices are in London, where Grandfather worked, too. But this is the family home.”

Bettina fingered her cards. “I suppose your Aunt Miriam enjoyed London.” She studied the child’s face. This was her first intrusion into his personal family business. But she felt so pushed from the center, she strived for a clearer peek within.

Frederick stared at his cards and pursed his mouth. “She liked Town better than here, my mother always said.”

“Did you like your Aunt Miriam?” Bettina couldn’t help herself. She wanted to know more about this woman whose life, or death, was an obstacle.

The boy screwed up his face. “I know it’s not polite, but … no.”

“Was she not a nice lady?” Bettina hated her urge to dig deeper. She moved the flimsy cards around. They were already dog-eared from use, made from brown wrapping paper she’d collected at the inn.

“My mother said….” He stared up at the ceiling, faint eyebrows knitted. “Aunt Miriam had too many airs, and wasn’t kind to her husband, Uncle Everett, I mean. Uncle grew up out here, and wanted to stay and help my grandparents. She didn’t.”

“Your uncle, he only keeps this place because it is the family home?” She understood that. She’d known French nobles who clung to their crumbling estates out of family honor.

“Grandfather is buried here, and people before that.” Frederick bid his cards.

Bettina shivered at the idea of another grave—the one in the cellar.

“I told you my great-great-great grandfather built Bronnmargh. He made his fortune in tin mining. There’s even a town south of here called Camborne.” The boy twisted his plump mouth. “
Depechez-vous
, Mademoiselle Bettina. You need to bid your hand.”

“It is important for you to know your heritage.” Bettina made a bid. She mused on her own history. Her father descended from an old respected French family. A heaviness weighed her down over losing him too soon.

“The inn where you work was part of this estate. Uncle said estates used to have their own inns for guests.” Frederick snatched up her cards. “I won that one.”

Bettina wanted to laugh at the inn’s connection to Bronnmargh, a connection she knew was snapped in half.

“You fancy Uncle Everett, don’t you, Mademoiselle?”

She sucked in her breath at his astute remark. Frederick’s blue eyes looked hopeful, and she blinked. “I believe your uncle has other lady friends.” She smiled to hide the pain of betrayal that churned again inside her.

“Oh, no, after Aunt Miriam left, I’ve never seen him with another lady.” The boy bent forward. “I think he fancies you, too.”

“I
… I do have something important to discuss with you.” Bettina ignored the nick of sadness and laid down her cards. The guilt of deserting this innocent child welled up in her. “I plan to travel to London myself, in about two weeks. I intend to find my mother, or other family members there.”

“But you’ll come back?” He kicked the table leg.

“I do not think so. I need to make my own life, elsewhere.” She reached out to clasp his hand.

“You have to return. Who will teach me French?” He snatched back his hand and crumpled up the cards.

Bettina thought of the boarding school he might be forced to go to. “I wish I did not have to leave you.”

“Everyone leaves!” The child stood, his eyes moist. “My mother, my father, now you.”

Surprised by his vehemence, Bettina jolted back in the chair. “I am sorry, I….”

He stomped from the room. Bettina understood his deep sense of loss. Everything had slipped through her fingers since the revolution. She stared at her porous fingers, then covered her face, the lump in her throat about to choke her.

Chapter Eighteen

“I won’t do it. Not her
… she’s so young. I’ve done enough bringing her here. They’ll have to solve this some other way. She probably doesn’t know a thing about it. She would be of no use to them.” Armand’s voice rasped in the next room. Bettina heard it clearly through the wall as he argued with Madame Hilaire. Armand rushed into her room and grasped her hand, pulling her up. He steered her to the top of a dark, bare set of stairs. They began to descend. He held a lantern, but Bettina couldn’t see more than two steps in front of her. Armand whispered for her to ‘uncover the truth’, but when she turned, he had disappeared. She felt trapped, staring into what must be Bronnmargh’s cellar. She took another step, but someone grabbed her by the arm and jerked her back.

“Mamsell, wake up. Why you be shivering so?” Kerra’s harsh whisper filled her ears as she shook her arm. “You have to help me.”

“What is the matter?” Bettina sat up with a gasp. Disoriented, she rubbed her face, the convoluted dream still swirling in her mind. “What time is it?”

“Before cockcrow
… hurry, get dressed.” Kerra hovered over her with a flickering candle. She looked haggard, her eyes red and moist.

“What is it? What has happened?” Bettina studied her through groggy eyes. In reluctance, she swept aside her blanket and plopped her feet on the cool floor.

“I done something wrong, I know … but it be too late.” Kerra sat beside her on the bed. “I'm breeding. Maybe two months. Kept trying to deny it, but I’m certain sure of it now.”

“Breeding?
Hélas
!” Bettina clasped her friend’s trembling hand, her stomach doing flips. She’d waited in fear for her own menses to start. “Oh, Kerra, does Charlie know?”

“Fie, I can’t tell him. He told me he didn't want no wife nor children till he got his little farm workin’, money saved. That’s why he don’t want marriage for a spell.”

“But he should know; this changes everything.” Bettina thought of her similar words to Everett and cringed. “He will marry you now, will he not?” She spoke with a confidence she didn’t feel. Men didn’t offer marriage when you thought they should.

“You don’t understand.” The candle flame wavered from Kerra’s gush of breath. “I don’t want to trap him into marrying me. Ain’t no good that way. I may be peasant poor to some people, but I want a man to marry me ’cause he loves me, not since he has to.”

“Yes, you are right, we all want that.” Bettina sighed and hugged an arm around Kerra’s bony shoulders. “But … tell me, how many times does it take to … become with child?”

“Uh
… I dunno. At least three or four times.” Kerra sniffed and wiped tears from her cheeks. “Will you help me?”

Bettina felt slightly relieved, but she had never seen Kerra this fragile. “What do you intend to do? How can I help?”

“First, Maddie must never know, she’d be so angry. There’s a doctor down near Padstow who’ll … take care of things for the right price. Lend me the money. I'll pay you back a little each month. I know you been saving your—”

“Take care of things? You are not thinking o
f…. It sounds too dangerous. In my religion, it is a terrible sin.” But Bettina had already sinned by having sex with Everett without the sanctity of marriage, and her piety had gone by the wayside long ago.

“It’s the only means out for me. I be careful from now on, till we do get married. I swear it. But that might be a year or two.” Kerra’s little face scrunched up. “Please help me with the money. An’ go to Padstow with me, now.”

Bettina dropped down and squeezed under her bed, reaching to the far corner where she had loosened the floorboard—ages ago, it seemed. Here she’d stashed her necklace, along with her savings. “How much will it cost?” she asked, drawing out the guinea Everett had left her when he went on a previous London visit. She gripped it, hating to part with her path to freedom.

“That should be enough.” Kerra took the coin, running a thumb over its surface. “Now please get dressed. We must go quick afore Maddie gets up and asks questions.”

Bettina pulled her nightgown off, then held it over the breasts Everett so recently kissed. Her resentment toward him faded with that memory, but only for a second. “How will we travel to Padstow? Is it not a couple of hours from here? I do not think you will be able to ride a horse after….” She hadn’t even known of such procedures until living at the inn.