Betrayed Countess (Books We Love Historical Romance) (45 page)

Maddie patted her shoulder. “But you be big news. Leaving here with the richest, most notorious citizen,” she winked at Everett, “and returning as a wife an’ expecting a child.”

Bettina’s pulse twitched. Deep inside, doubts niggled at her that they would never be free to marry. She was a fraud sitting here in this holy place.

The vicar presented the new couple. Everyone stood and clapped.

A man glowered at Bettina as he stepped into the aisle. “Now my sons will be sent over the channel to fight you frog-eaters.”

“She’s not involved in the war. So keep a civil tongue, sir.” Everett towered over the man, who ducked his head and shuffled out.

“I had fear they might blame me for the war.” Bettina clung to Everett’s arm as a few others sneered in her direction.

Grains of wheat for fertility were scattered before the couple as they left the church. Kerra’s little face beamed with joy, Charlie grinning shyly beside her.

“Hold tight to him, men don’t stay.” Ann pelted wheat onto Charlie’s hat. To Bettina’s surprise, she smiled—if more a snarl with her snaggled teeth—though it did nothing to improve her droopy face.

The guests walked among laughter and congratulations up the Fore Street to the inn.

It seemed most of the village crammed into Maddie’s taproom for the reception. Everett’s financial assistance provided a variety of food, wine, beer and flowers.

“Maybe next time I can be the bride, ’stead of the bridesmaid,” Dory said as

Kerra removed her marriage ring. Maddie handed Kerra a sliver of wedding cake, and she passed the morsel through the ring to Dory—this assuring luck to the recipient for future marriage possibilities.

Many of the men snickered. Dory whirled on them with cake crumbs on her lips. “It could come about, you slimy sots!” The blousy young woman looked respectable for once, in her second-hand mauve open-robe gown. Bettina still gave Maddie extra money on the sly to help Dory take care of her family.

Old Milt raised his tankard and sloshed ale down his arm. “To the two Cupid’s victims, the farm boy and brew wench. Have much mites to work here to help out your sister.” The old codger sidled over to Bettina with his malicious grin. He didn’t even look in Everett’s direction. “Glad to see you about again, girl. It’s been dull without ’ee.” His familiar cackle reverberated around the chamber.

“I might have even missed you, I am not certain.” Bettina grinned at the old man and raised her glass. The other guests raised tankards or wine glasses and toasted the bride and groom.

After darkness started to fall, Dory waved her arms to silence the crowd. “They’s just gone upstairs, everyone be ready?” The people gathered around, pushing Newlyn out in front.

Bettina watched as the group tramped up the stairs after the wedding couple. Many pulled off belts, or carried straps. “What are they doing?”

“It’s a Cornish custom to ‘flog’ a wedding couple to bed. This rough treatment is supposed to ensure them happiness and good luck.” Everett had an amused glint in his eyes. The footsteps trampled on the boards above, then they heard Kerra’s squeals.

“I’m more decent.” Maddie rushed past them. “I just throw a stocking at ’em, a more gentler version.” She padded up the stairs as Everett and Bettina laughed, kissing one another.

He took her hand and they walked out and boarded the curricle. “I’m sorry I’ve been away so much. It won’t get any better. I know you want the truth. Shipping is being interfered with because of the war. England’s attacking French merchant ships, so France will retaliate in kind on ours. The difficulty of importing cotton and exporting wool will wreak havoc with the manufactories all over England. It will affect my business.”

Bettina leaned into Everett’s warmth as they rattled up the hill toward Bronnmargh in the velvet twilight. “It is terrible, for everyone. We will cut back our spending, I am used to that. Perhaps more refugees will come to London now, even some of my relatives.” She said this out of habit, no longer believing she’d ever be reunited with her mother.

She fisted her left hand around the ring Everett had bought her in London—the unblessed ring that symbolized a deception, not a vow. If they could only marry, she’d rejoice in her own family here in England.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Christian toddled over the new fallen leaves in Bronnmargh’s south garden. Bettina followed as they walked among the aromatic plants in the crisp September air. The baby bent to finger a damp leaf and fell on his bottom. She laughed and scooped him up. He put his little hand to her mouth and she kissed it, his skin soft like a flower petal.

Her son’s large brown eyes searched hers. “Maman?” The breeze ruffled his dark hair.

“You are still new to walking,
mon petit
. At least it is not such a mess here as before.” Dead plants and shrubs had been ripped out. The gooseberry and blackberry bushes added the previous year flourished. They would make good jams and tarts.

Mrs. Camborne walked up to them. Her gaze turned skyward, scanning the branches overhead. “Sam planted these oak and ash trees, so many years ago. I’m glad they still prosper.” She removed her work gloves, her narrow face brightened with a smile. “How was your visit with Kerra this morning? How’s her brand new baby girl?”

“She is beautiful. They named her Hester, after Kerra and Maddie’s mother. But Charlie said they had to keep trying, because a man has to have sons. He was teasing, of course … I believe.” Bettina surveyed the other plants. “We need to grow as many vegetables as we can. Food will be scarce, Everett said. So much is shipped to feed the soldiers and sailors.”

“The war is hurting everyone. I hear your queen is in danger of losing her life.” Mrs. Camborne touched Bettina’s arm.

Frederick and Mrs. Pollard’s grandson, a stocky round boy named Cadan, ran up with two buckets full of seashells gathered from the cove. The pair dumped their load in a clatter onto the ground and began to crush them under their feet; these shells would be used to fill in the garden paths. A curlew made a pah-weet sound nearby.

“No one is safe in France.” Bettina walked with her baby away from the boisterous boys. “Everything I read in the papers is like a horror story. The massacres and beheadings. A person in charge one moment is sentenced to death the next. I can almost dismiss it as a nightmare, it is so bizarre.”

“I will pray for your family.” Mrs. Camborne followed, leaned in and kissed her grandson’s nose. The two women strolled with the baby toward the manor. “I’m delighted we’re injecting a fresh breath of life into this place. When I stopped in after Clare’s funeral, the neglect sickened me, though not enough to make me stay. I didn’t have the patience I’ve acquired in my maturing years. This pruning reminds me of an incident … before Sam died.” The woman sighed. “I insisted Miriam help me in the garden one day. I was wise to her by then, and wanted her to soil her lily-white hands. But all she did was complain about being stuck out here with no society. I’d had enough of her whining, called her worthless, and she came after me….”

Bettina stifled a laugh, but it sounded like a gasp.

“I hope this isn’t upsetting you, dear?”

“
Mais non
. Knowing how Everett felt about her, it does not.” Bettina shifted the baby to her other hip. It vindicated her to know that Everett’s mother had seen through Miriam’s façade.

“The worst was, we were yowling like cats and Mr. Slate ran out and tackled Miriam to the ground when she pulled at my hair. He suggested I remove myself elsewhere.” Mrs. Camborne seemed to fight a grin as her cheeks reddened.

Bettina laughed outright. She strained to picture the dour Mr. Slate wrestling with an enraged woman. She couldn’t deny she gleaned a certain satisfaction from that image.

“But now I’ve come back to find my son happily wed to you, and with a son of his own.” The woman flapped her gloves against her palm. “Life does have its pleasures.”

“We must be thankful for what we have.” Bettina buried her face in Christian’s warm neck and kissed his soft skin. She wondered if Mrs. Camborne would shun them if she discovered that she was Everett’s mistress, the baby a by-blow, to use a harsh word, according to the law.

* * * *

Frederick slapped his book shut on the kitchen table. He leaned back in the chair with a groan. “I’m tired of learning. I want to go and fight in the war. It’s been over a year, England needs all the help she can get.”

“You are only eleven. Do not ever say that.” Bettina stiffened in surprise. She rose and opened the kitchen window to let in the breeze. The scent of flowers drifted in, birds twittered in the nearby trees. Another spring, and still no marriage. She tried not to dwell on it. “I may not be the best tutor for your higher learning, but you need to make more effort.” She’d acquired several textbooks from Frederick’s retired old tutor. She’d struggled since after the
new year to teach the lad. “Perhaps you might be better in a school in Bodmin or Truro.”

“I told you I don’t want to go away to school. I never cared for that London school, except for the fencing. I want to do something exciting, adventurous.” He hopped up and paced across the flagstones. He’d grown tall and angular, his plump cheeks a memory of simpler times. His blond curls had darkened to a light brown.

“You have no idea how awful this war is. It only sounds like an adventure.” She’d forbidden Everett from allowing the boy to see any newspapers. The previous October, Marie Antoinette had been executed. Her haughty airs and reckless spending had condemned her. Further awful news made Bettina’s head swim. The Hébertists faction of the Jacobin Club put the Girondins on trial and had executed most of these previous revolutionary leaders. Philippe Egalité, the former Duc d’Orléans—a man her father had known, and who’d worked alongside the rebels—was beheaded in November.

“Cadan told me that England is calling for more arms and soldiers to fight the French. Is your family fighting the English?” He watched her with curiosity. “Were you sad when our navy won that skirmish in the Channel?”

“I do not think my family is involved.” Bettina doubted her relatives would help the rebels. But she’d found herself rooting for England, her homeland now a foreign place she didn’t care to know. “I heard Newlyn Tremayne was conscripted into the navy. Kerra is happy that the military spared Charlie. He is valuable in growing crops to be sold in the coastal towns to feed the navy.” She came back and fingered the book. “Please read your lesson one more time.”

“You can never have too much education, young man.” Everett walked in, rustling a newspaper. “I want you to attend Oxford, where I
studied.” He reached out to clasp his nephew’s shoulder, but the boy sidestepped the gesture. Bettina noticed how he shied away from being touched now. He rarely allowed a hug or a kiss from any of them. His obstinate, restless demeanor appeared part of his maturing.

“School is a waste of time when the whole world’s out there, with battles on the sea and the continent.” Frederick’s eyes flashed before he stalked off.

“Young man!” Everett started to follow, but Bettina stopped him.

“Let him go. He will be a young man, and far too soon.” Bettina embraced Everett, overjoyed to have him home. “How is your business, may I ask?”

He pulled back slowly, his eyes sad. “I won’t lie to you. We’re struggling to stay alive. Exporting to France was very profitable. Many companies have gone into bankruptcy; manufacturers, too. We’ll get little government help. The realm’s money is being poured into the troops sent to fight the French. We’ll have to tighten up here even more.”

“I have jarred preserves with your mother’s help.” She spoke of solutions to mask her own worry. “I will plant more vegetables.”

“The good news is,” he ran his fingers through her hair, “now it’s 1794, it has been seven years. I should be able to have my wife declared deceased. We should be able to marry at the end of the year.”

“
Grâce à dieu.
I am more than ready.” Bettina pressed her face into his chest. She’d had to stop breast-feeding Christian after her milk went dry. According to Kerra, that meant she could again become with child.

* * * *

The salty breeze off the ocean fluttered Bettina’s wide straw hat. The early summer sun heated the flesh on her arms. She hacked the hoe into the dirt and scraped a furrow in the dry earth. Mrs. Camborne dropped in seed for carrots, turnips, and beets.

“I never knew there were so many inventive ways to prepare vegetables.” The older woman straightened and massaged her back.

“With meat so expensive, we have no choice. It is good we can grow our own food. I want this crop for the late fall.” Bettina gripped the hoe handle in her calloused hands, her drab skirt swirling around her ankles.

“Why don’t you ask Peder to do this strenuous work?”

“I like the exercise.” Activity kept Bettina’s mind occupied. How much longer could they pay their hired gunman? They’d already let Mrs. Pollard retire with not as generous a pension as Everett would have preferred.

Frederick, a book tucked under his arm, walked by with Cadan, both chattering.