In the Shadow of Arabella (31 page)

He waited while she got into bed, then added several logs to the fire and carefully placed the firescreen before blowing out her candles. He said good night then and left.

Katherine was disappointed. After the intimate conversation they had shared, she had hoped he might offer her a kiss on the cheek or at least take her hand in parting. It was clear from what he had said that he blamed himself not only for doubting her but for the death of the child as well. She knew that simply saying it was not so, would not take away the guilt he felt.

* * * *

The following morning Katherine had Gordon walk with her to the bench in the rose arbor. He settled her there comfortably, carefully tucked a rug over her lap, and promised to come and fetch her in twenty minutes.

It was early February, but the day was fine. A bright winter sun had warmed the stone bench and the brick wall behind her. From this location behind the house she could not see the lake, but she had a wonderful view of the park and the forest to the south—mature trees stripped of their leaves by winter. She realized that in no time at all they would be green again with the promise of another spring. The sun on her face was warm, the fresh air exhilarating after weeks indoors.

Katherine had enjoyed her outing for only a few minutes when she saw Rudley walking toward her across the lawn. She suddenly remembered the last time they had been there together, the day he said there would be no divorce. He had been so cold, so detached, but as he came to her now there was no indifference in his eyes and only concern in his voice when he spoke. “Gordon told me he brought you here. May I sit with you?”

“Please do.”

He sat down beside her, remaining silent for a few moments. When he spoke, he echoed her earlier thoughts. “I am reminded of the last time we met here. My behavior that day was abominable.”

“Why do you say so? You behaved as you felt. There can be no fault in that.”

“No, you are mistaken. I did not say what I felt. Far from it. I went away that day allowing you to think I hated you and . . . Katherine, I have never hated you. I do not believe I ever could.”

He rose suddenly and, walking a few paces away, stood with his back to her. “I made a lofty speech on our wedding day about honoring marriage vows, then, hypocrite that I am, I deserted you at the first sign of trouble without even giving you an opportunity to explain.”

“You had provocation.”

He turned to face her. “Enough provocation to think the worst of you? Oliver did not! He thought you must have had some logical explanation for your behavior. But I would not even listen when it was offered me!”

“You cannot compare your reaction with Oliver’s. I am not his wife; he was not the one who felt betrayed. When you asked me to marry you, Ned, I tried to explain that there were things about me that you did not know. I had no wish to deceive you or to misrepresent myself.

“I was wrong not to tell you about Sir Humphrey. And I should have told you about meeting James when I went north. I had heard he was in France, otherwise I would never have gone near his house. But his mother is a dear friend and I so wanted to see her.”

When she paused, he sat again and after a few moments offered, “After Arabella, I swore to myself that if I ever married again I would be so cautious, take my time, choose a wife with utmost care.

“Then I met you, and wanted you, and ignored all that I had promised myself. I put my trust in you—and I was not disappointed. During those days following our drenching in the rain, I was as certain as any man could be that you loved me. But when I heard what your stepfather said, when I saw the list of names you kept to choose a husband, it all seemed so sordid.”

Even as she reached out a hand to touch him, he rose once again from the bench. “Ned, I am so sorry. I never meant—”

“No, Katherine,” he interrupted, turning to face her. “Do not apologize. It is my place to do that. For months I have regretted the words I spoke to you the day I left here. I failed to control my anger, and I refused to hear your explanations. I was wrong, and I am sorry.”

“I did not mind your shouting at me,” Katherine insisted. “It was easier for me to accept than your cold indifference the day we spoke here.”

“Indifference!” he exclaimed. His eyes softened, remembering. “When I saw you standing there, with the roses in your arms and about your feet, I could not believe how sweet it felt just to be close to you again—for despite everything . . . I loved you still . . . as I love you now.”

She smiled up at him, a smile threatened by tears. She brushed them away and then laced her fingers in her lap, gripping them tightly together. “When I first met you,” she said, “I found you attractive, but I thought you were only being kind because of your friendship with the Brents. Later, when you sought me out, I was flattered. In the midst of my upside-down world you seemed so steady, so secure and sure of yourself. Sir Humphrey had been getting progressively harder to live with. His gambling was out of control; his drinking started earlier each day. He was always begging me for money because he was spendthrift with his quarterly rents. When he announced that he intended to marry Serena to a toothless fifty-year-old man, I was forced to act. I resolved to marry. I wanted James, but he could not afford to marry me. I told him I would not wait, for as much as I cared for him, my first obligation was to Serena. When you asked me to marry you, the security you represented was the most tempting thing anyone had ever offered me.

“With every day that passed after our engagement and after our marriage, I became more certain I had made the right decision. We got on so well together, and I was positive that I could be a good wife. I went north to strike a bargain with Sir Humphrey. I assigned my income to him in return for guardianship of Serena. Lord Harrington had the papers drawn up. It was all tidy and legal.”

When he frowned, she said, “I should have told you about that, too. If you had known my real reason for going north, you might not have believed Sir Humphrey. Then, after you and I . . . after we became close . . . when I could have spoken, I found I no longer wished to. I was so happy—
we
were so happy—I did not want to spoil it. James and Sir Humphrey and everything to do with them did not seem important anymore. I wanted never to think of that unhappy time in my life ever again.”

She paused, giving him time to respond. When he said nothing she continued. “When I first went to London, I was in love with James. When you asked me to marry you, I was still in love with him, but I knew he was lost to me. When he kissed me in Lincolnshire, I did not like it. Partly I felt such behavior was a betrayal of you, but even more than that I found that his kiss no longer excited me. In fact, it left me feeling nothing at all.

“On my way home I was so eager to get here; I had missed you so. My trip had gone splendidly. Serena was free of Sir Humphrey’s power, and I owed it all to you. You had made it all possible. I know now that I loved you even then, but I did not realize it until the day you left. When you became so angry and accused me of such awful things, I did not blame you in the slightest. I was only angry with myself—for not being honest, for not telling you everything, for keeping secrets and in the process losing your trust.”

“Katherine, those hours you were unconscious, I prayed I had not stayed away too long, that I had not destroyed the tender feelings you once had for me.’’

“I do not think it is possible for you to destroy the love I have for you,” she said simply.

These were the words he had hoped to hear, but even as she spoke them he was finding it difficult to believe he had heard her aright. He stared at her for some moments in silence and then held out both hands to her. When she put her own in them, he drew her to her feet and took her into his arms, slowly and gently, as if she were one of the fragile blossoms that would grow there in abundance when the summer came. He did not kiss her but only held her close against his heart, for he knew beyond any doubt that if their love had survived these past months, it would be equal to or stronger than anything the future could hold.

When Katherine descended the stairway to the great hall in the late afternoon, she found Rudley in conversation with his brother. After Oliver had greeted Katherine then disappeared toward the estate office, Rudley said, “It is a beautiful day. Shall we walk?”

As she took the arm he offered, she said, “We can walk along the stream to the little footbridge in the woods—” She stopped and turned to Rudley, for at her mention of the bridge he had halted abruptly. “Once before you refused to take me there, Ned. What is it about the bridge? Why will you not go there?”

“Phantoms again, Katherine,” he replied. “Shadows of Arabella—very unpleasant ones.”

“I think now is the time for you to tell me about Arabella. In what way did she deceive you, and why did your marriage end?”

They moved back into the blue drawing room and he led her to a sofa and seated himself beside her before he continued. “It was on that bridge, a little over a month into my marriage to Arabella, that she told me she was pregnant with another man’s child.”

“Oh, no!” Katherine could not keep from exclaiming as she laid her hand on his sleeve.

“She went on to say—and very flattering it was to my ego, let me tell you—that she was already in her fourth month and had married me only to protect her reputation. Perhaps I should have exposed her then. A public scandal might have been easier for me than the years of lying and pretense. But I did not know that then, and I had been raised to believe that scandal was to be avoided above all things, whatever the cost. She knew that, of course, so she had little fear of being cast off by me. When I asked her why she accepted
me
instead of marrying the child’s father, she explained, with typical brutality, that I held a higher rank than the father and was considerably wealthier.

“Parts of this story you know. From that day forward our marriage was a marriage in name only. We were never reconciled. When the child arrived, people either thought it premature or believed that Arabella and I had engaged in some premarital familiarity. No one, to my knowledge, ever doubted my paternity.

“So perhaps now you can understand why Sir Humphrey’s accusations came as such a shock to me. I could not credit that such a thing could happen to me twice! In my confused state I compared your behavior to Arabella’s. I was not willing to await explanations. Like a wounded animal, I wanted only to run and hide, and feel sorry for myself, and allow myself to hate you as I had hated her.”

When he paused, she interjected a question she had been anxious to ask. “What became of the child? And if your marriage was over, how did Pamela come to be conceived?”

“Pamela was the child Arabella carried. I have raised her as my own, though admittedly I have done a poor job of it.”

“But I do not understand,” Katherine insisted. “Pamela
is
your child.”

“Legally, yes, but Arabella was already three months pregnant at the time we married.”

“
Were
you intimate with Arabella before you married?”

“Katherine! What questions you ask. Certainly not!”

“Then the baby must have been premature, or there has to be some other explanation, for there can be no doubt Pamela is
your
child.”

“Katherine, what are you trying to say?”

“I am saying there can be no question that you are Pamela’s
true
father. You have only to look at her. Have you never
looked
at her? She is without question a Seaton. She has the same deep-set eyes, and the same color, too, the same sweep of the brow, the same lines in the chin. She is so like you, I cannot believe you would ever doubt she is yours. It is true that she is fair like Oliver, your sister Margaret, and your father, but—”

She stopped speaking as a strange look came over her husband’s face. He went rigid, the color quickly draining from his cheeks. He looked directly at her but did not seem to see her. It was as if he were looking through her into something beyond.

Then, suddenly, he startled her by speaking. “My God! My own brother!’’ The tone of his voice made her blood run cold. He leaped to his feet and, seeming to forget Katherine and not bothering to excuse himself, stormed from the room. Confused and frightened, she followed him.

Rudley quickly crossed the hall to the estate office, where he found Kendall and Oliver at work on plans for the dower house. “Kendall, leave us,” he said sharply.

Kendall needed only one glance at his employer’s face to obey without comment. As he left the room, Katherine entered it and quietly closed the door, setting her back against it. She was most likely not welcome, but she was determined to stay.

Rudley crossed the room to where Oliver had been sitting behind a small desk. Rudley’s words to Kendall and his expression had brought Oliver to his feet. “Ned, what is wrong?” he asked.

The question Rudley shot at him was not one he had expected. “Are you Pamela’s father?” Rudley’s voice was frigid and heavy with undisguised fury. Oliver had spent the last decade wondering when, if ever, the light would finally dawn. He saw no reason to make a denial now that it obviously had. His eyes met Rudley’s unwaveringly as he answered.

“Yes.”

Oliver’s lips had barely formed the word when the earl’s fist shot out and caught him a powerful blow on the chin that sent him sprawling backward over the chair behind the desk and crashing into the wall beyond.

“Ned!” Katherine’s anguished cry from behind made Rudley spin around.

“Leave us,” he commanded her. “You have no business here.” Clearly expecting to be immediately obeyed, he wasted no more time on her but turned again to Oliver, who was beginning to rise from the floor. Rudley moved around the desk and assisted his brother by grasping the front of his coat and hauling him roughly to his feet.

Oliver raised no hand to defend himself. “I will not fight you, Ned. It will accomplish nothing.”

If Rudley had considered hitting him again, he now changed his mind. Still grasping the cloth of Oliver’s coat, he contented himself by using all his strength to slam his brother against the wall.