The Pretenders (28 page)

I felt my knees buckle. “Dead?”

“Yes. Come along into the morning room with me, Deb, and I’ll tell you about it.”

He put his arm around my shoulders and led me away from the eyes of all of the people in the drawing room. When we reached the morning room, he made me sit down in an embroidered cabriolet chair, and he sat in the matching chair facing me.

I searched his face with strained eyes. “Did I kill him when I hit him over the head?”

He reached out and took my hand. “No. He drowned, Deb.”

“Drowned?” I repeated, not understanding. ”But the tide had left the cave, Reeve.”

He said gently, “When Harry got to Robert he found him lying facedown in the stream of water that was emptying out of the cave. He was unconscious from the blow you had given him, you see, and so he couldn’t move.”

I remembered how I had turned my own face when I had fallen in the stream. It had not been deep, but if one had lain in it facedown…

I stared at Reeve, appalled. “Oh my God, Reeve. I didn’t even think of that! I was just so frightened … all I wanted to do was to get away as fast as I could. I never even thought that Robert’s face was in the water!”

“Of course you didn’t,” he replied. “After the ordeal you had been through, no one expects that you would have thought of it“

“I killed him,” I said blankly. “Oh God, and it wasn’t even in self-defense. When I hit him with the rock; that was self-defense. But I could have turned his head before I ran away. I could have done that!”

“You couldn’t even see him, Deb,” Reeve said. “How could you know that his face was in the water?”

I pulled my hand away from his.

“I could have felt for him.”

He shook his head decisively. “No, you couldn’t. Suppose he had come around and gone for you again? You had no choice but to do as you did—which was get out of there as quickly as you possibly could.”

I said doubtfully, “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right You’ll see that when you think it through.”

I shuddered, and said, “Robert may have been a horrible man, but it’s not pleasant to know that you’ve killed someone, Reeve.”

“Believe me, Deb, I know that …,” he returned.

We looked at each other.

I got up and went over to stand next to his chair. I put my arms around him and held his head against my breast.

“Yes,” I said. “I see.”

“It doesn’t matter where the fault ultimately lies,” he said bleakly. “There is always that feeling of guilt.”

I held him tighter and repeated our talisman. “We have each other.”

He turned toward me, put his arms around my waist and burrowed his face between my breasts. “Thank God,” he said simply. “Thank God.”

Lord Bradford came home at eleven. He had been in Fair Haven, where they had brought Robert’s body after they had removed it from the cave.

“He’ll come home tomorrow,” he said as he drank a glass of port in front of the drawing-room fire that had been lit against a surprisingly chilly summer night. ”I want to bury him from Wakefield.”

We all made indistinguishable murmurs of sympathy.

“What a tragedy that Robert could not make it to the back of the cave, like Deborah.” Mrs. Norton said.

Lord Bradford looked utterly exhausted. “Apparently he left it until too late,” he said. “The tide caught him in the middle of the cave, before he could get all the way through to safety.”

I was grateful that Lord Bradford had come up with a story other than the truth to account for Robert’s demise. I didn’t even care if he had done it to save Robert’s good name. All I cared about was that my part in Robert’s untimely end was not going to be made public knowledge.

“The water was very rough,” I murmured. “The sound of the waves roaring through the cavern was utterly terrifying.”

Everyone was silent as they contemplated the picture of Robert caught in this maelstrom.

I stared into my teacup and decided that, no matter how unpleasant it was to realize that one has killed another human being, I was not sorry that Robert was dead. Alive, he would always be a threat to Reeve and to our future together.

He had been an evil man. I was sorry I had been the instrument of his demise, but I was not sorry that he was gone.

This honest acknowledgment of the situation made me feel a little better.

I looked up from my teacup, and my eyes fell on my mother. She was gazing at Lord Bradford with such a mixture of pain and longing on her face that it took my breath away.

She loves him
, I thought.
She really does love him
.

This thought did not bring the stab of jealousy that it had always brought in the past. For it was jealousy that I had felt about Mama and Lord Bradford. Both Bernard and Reeve had seen it, if I had not.

How selfish of me to want to keep Mama only for myself
, I thought.
I have Reeve now. She should have someone of her own, too
.

But John Woodly and what he had done to her stood like a malevolent monolith between Mama and love.

There had to be a way out, I thought. It simply was not right that the rest of her life should be ruined because of one act that had not been her fault.

I drank my tea, and thought, and did not hear a word of the discussion that went on around me pertaining to Robert’s funeral.

At last, Mrs. Norton rose to her feet. “Time for bed, Mary Ann,” she said to her daughter.

“Mama,” I said, “may I see you and Bernard for a few moments alone?”

My mother’s blue eyes darkened. “Why … I suppose so, darling.” She looked at Lord Bradford. “If it is all right with you, Bernard?”

He looked so tired. “Of course, Deborah,” he said with implacable courtesy. “Shall we go into the library?”

He had a footman light the library lamps, and then he gestured Mama and me to the settee that was placed in front of the fireplace.

“I hope you don’t mind if I stand,” he said with a wry smile. “I’m afraid that if I sit down, I might fall asleep.”

Before I could bring up the subject that had been the impetus for this meeting, I had to say something else first.

“I am very sorry about Robert, Bernard,” I said quietly. “I did not mean it to happen. If I had known that his face was in the water, I would have turned it.”

“I believe you, Deborah,” he replied. He rubbed his hands across his eyes, as if he might be rubbing away tears. Next to me, I saw Mama’s hands clench in her lap.

Bernard went on steadily, “But I am glad that you did not realize it. It grieves me more than you will ever know that I must say this, but we are all better off with Robert dead.”

He was right, and Mama and I knew it.

I folded my own hands in my lap and regarded them with steady concentration. I didn’t quite have the courage to look at either of them as I confessed to my eavesdropping.

“I imagine that Reeve has told you what happened between Robert and me in the cave,” I said.

“Yes,” Bernard replied tersely.

“Did he also tell you why I was out on Charles Island in the first place?”

“No.” His voice took on a little more life. “And I, for one, would like to know the answer to that question, Deborah. Your disappearance terrified your mother. It was very wrong of you to have done that to her.”

I drew a deep breath, closed my fingers tightly around each other, and said, “I overheard a conversation I was not supposed to hear, and it upset me a great deal. That is why I ran away. I needed time to think before I could face Mama again.”

The silence in the room was thick with tension. I could hear the clock on the wall ticking the seconds away. Finally Mama said in a constricted voice, “What conversation, Deborah?”

Still I stared at my hands. “I was standing on the terrace outside the morning room when you and Bernard were talking over breakfast, Mama. At first I didn’t realize that the conversation was private, and by the time I did, I couldn’t move without letting you know that I was there and had overheard.”

“
Oh my God
.” Mama’s voice was agonized.

“What a horrible, horrible man,” I said. My voice had begun to shake. “I agree with Bernard. I would like to shoot him.”

Lord Bradford stood like a statue before the fireplace and didn’t say anything.

“How… how much did you hear?” Mama quavered.

“I heard it all,” I returned. “That is why I was so upset, you see. That is why I ran away.”

Mama was wringing her hands. “Oh God, Deborah. I would have given my soul to keep that information from you. I never,
never
wanted you to know …”

I turned to her abruptly and flung my arms around her. “I’m all right, Mama. I talked to Reeve about the whole thing, and he helped me. I’m all right. It’s you I’m worried about. It’s you whose whole life has been blighted by that awful man.”

I could feel her fragile frame quivering under my touch. I held her close, her feathery blond curls against my cheek, and finally I turned to look at Lord Bradford.

“You were right when you said that I was jealous of you,” I said. ”But I’m not anymore. I think you would be a wonderful husband to my mother.”

“I can’t …” Mama choked. ”I’m afraid …”

I kept looking at Lord Bradford, and he looked steadily back.

“Reeve and I will leave for Ambersley right after the funeral,” I said. “A few days after that, I would appreciate it if you would escort Mama home to join us.” I added very deliberately, “And if it should take you several days to reach Ambersley from here, Reeve and I will certainly never notice.”

Bernard’s gray eyes widened slightly. At last, I had succeeded in surprising him.

I said to him softly, “If I were a betting woman, I would wager a great deal that you can succeed in making Mama forget all about John Woodly.”

Mama pulled herself out of my arms. “What are you saying, Deborah?”

I looked into the eyes that were so like mine. “I’m saying, Mama, that you won’t marry Bernard because you’re afraid you can’t be a normal wife to him. But what if you discovered that you
could
be a normal wife. Would you marry him then?”

She looked shocked.

“Deborah! Are you suggesting … I …?”

“Yes,” I said. “I am.”

“I have always thought you were a splendid young woman,” Bernard said to me approvingly. The fatigue had miraculously left his face.

Mama began to sputter.

“Go along to Reeve, Deborah,” Lord Bradford said to me with a smile, “and leave your mother to me.”

I smiled back at him and left the room to go upstairs to the bedroom I shared with my husband.

THE FAMILY CAME TO AMBERSLEY FOR THE
christening of my daughter. Mama and Bernard had come early, so that Mama could be with me for the baby’s birth. Sally arrived after Helen was born, as my conservative mother did not think it was proper for a young girl to be in the house at such a delicate time. Richard and Charlotte arrived the day before with their infant son. Richard was to be Helen’s godfather, and Sally was to be her godmother. Lastly, Harry came up from London, where he was still attending the Royal College of Physicians.

Of course, Reeve had dozens of other relatives, but a christening was a private affair, and we had invited only those people to whom we were closest.

It goes without saying that I had been enormously grateful for the presence of my mother during my baby’s birth. She had been a great source of strength and comfort to me. I had also been grateful for the presence of Bernard. If he had not been there to restrain Reeve during the six hours it had taken me to deliver Helen, I truly believe that my distraught husband would have charged into our bedroom and demanded to see me.

“Thank you, Bernard,” I told him gratefully when he visited me and Helen several hours after the birth. The last thing I had needed during that very trying time was a wild-eyed husband, convinced I was on the verge of extinction. In childbed, Mama’s calm and steady support had been far more welcome.

At first I had been a little fearful that Reeve would be disappointed that his firstborn child was a girl.

In fact, he had been absolutely delighted. One look into Helen’s large, blue-gray eyes, and he had fallen utterly and completely in love.

“Her eyes are going to be blue, like yours.” he had said.

In fact, I rather thought that her eyes were going to turn dark, like his, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to get in the way of his obvious enchantment.

“Perhaps our next one will be a boy.” I said.

“Perhaps,” he said carelessly. ”Look at her hands, Deb. They’re so tiny yet so perfect. And her skin!”

“I think Reeve is secretly delighted that he doesn’t have to share you with another male,” Bernard said to me with a laugh.

I myself thought that it might be more complicated than that. Reeve had named the baby after his mother, and I thought that in some obscure way the existence of Helen Maria Elizabeth Ann was a way for him finally to reconnect positively with the parent he had so tragically lost.

It was a crisp, clear October morning the day I stood in the great front doorway of Ambersley and watched the christening party getting into the carriages that would take them to the church. Sally was carefully carrying the baby, her face aglow with tenderness. Helen was wearing the dress and cap which generations of Lambeths had been christened in. She looked adorable, and I had fed her just before they left, so I hoped that she would not cry.

I was relegated to waiting at home until they returned.

“Rest, Deb,” Reeve commanded me before they left. ”I don’t want you to exhaust yourself with all this entertaining.”

He had been hovering over me like a mother tiger with one cub all during the last few months of my pregnancy, and he had not been much better since the baby was born. It was sweet of him, but it was starting to get on my nerves.

“I am perfectly fine, Reeve,” I said impatiently. ”The doctor said that I am a strong and healthy young woman, and there is no reason for me to pamper myself.”

He frowned.

“Go along.” I gave him a push. ”They’re waiting for you.”

As soon as they had left, I went down the back stairs to the kitchen to make certain that everything was in train for the luncheon that would be served when the christening party returned from the church.

My arrival in the kitchen caused scarcely a stir. This had not been the case when I first stopped in after Reeve and I had come to Ambersley to live. Then I had met with icy disapproval from my servants. It was quite obvious that in their view of the world, the lady of the manor did not just stop into the kitchen for a snack and a chat.

I had persevered, however. Ambersley might be as large as a palace, but it was still my house, and I was determined to feel at home in all of it.

My resolution had paid off, and now my staff and I were perfectly comfortable with each other.

It hadn’t hurt that I had had a brand-new stove installed for the cook, and last winter had bought warm wool blankets for the beds of all the servants.

Unlike the aristocratic Lambeths who had inhabited the house before me, I knew what it felt like to be cold.

“Would you care to sample the soup, my lady?” the cook asked me.

I shook my head. “I’d love to, Mrs. Wilson, but I’d better not.”

I had shed most of the extra weight I’d gained with the baby, but I still had a little more to go. Once I could get out on horseback again, I knew the weight would melt away, but at the moment I did not think it was a good idea to indulge myself too freely with treats.

The elderly woman who was our cook gave me a reproachful look. “Ye can certainly afford a wee sip, my lady. Ye’re naught but skin and bones.”

I looked at Mrs. Wilson’s comfortably upholstered body and thought that she was hardly the judge I would choose for such a matter as my proper weight.

I smiled at her. “I know it is delicious, and I promise to eat my fill at luncheon.”

“Ye need not worry, my lady,” she said placidly. ”I’ll serve ’em a grand meal, that I will.”

“I wasn’t worried at all,” I reassured her. And I wasn’t. Mrs. Wilson was a wonderful cook.

After I left the kitchen I went along to the red drawing room, which opened off the black-and-white-marble hall in the front of the house. This was the room that we were using today for the christening parry. Reeve’s father had had Ambersley’s drawing room and dining room redone by Robert Adam, and the result in the drawing room was nothing short of sumptuous. The walls were hung with red Spitalfields silk, the brilliant carpet and much of the red-silk-upholstered furniture had been designed by Adam himself, and the ceiling was gaily patterned with octagons which enclosed colored circles. An immense gilt-framed mirror hung over the white-marble fireplace, and the rest of the walls were hung with equally immense portraits of Reeve’s ancestors.

This was not one of the rooms that Reeve and I used on a daily basis, but it was certainly a grand place to have a party. Actually, I was looking forward to doing a bit more socializing than I had been able to of late. Reeve had gone up to London a number of times to attend Parliament, but I had not been in London since our engagement had been announced. This was because at first we had had an obligatory period of mourning for Robert, and then, of course, I had been carrying Helen.

Sally was to make her postponed come out this spring, under Mama’s aegis, and Reeve and I were going to spend the Season in London as well. I was looking forward to it, and even Reeve said that perhaps it would not be so bad as long as I was there.

When the christening party finally returned from the church, I brought the baby upstairs to her cradle, which would be in my dressing room while I was still nursing her, fed her again, and then returned to the drawing room, where the others were drinking champagne.

“Helen was an angel in church.” my husband informed me.

Sally was indignant. “Reeve! She screamed until she was red in the face when Mr. Liskey poured the water on her forehead.”

“She stopped screaming as soon as I took her from you.” Reeve pointed out smugly.

I looked at him and thought that we had better have another child soon or this one was going to be spoiled beyond saving.

Mama said, “It is good luck when a baby cries like that.”

Did I mention that my mother was proving to be as doting a grandmother as Reeve was a father?

My eyes inadvertently met Bernard’s, and we shared a smile.

Richard said to me, “Wouldn’t it be jolly if my Dickon and your Helen should marry one day?”

“I would like that very much,” I said.

Charlotte laughed. “Richard! The children aren’t out of their cradles yet. Besides, parental matchmaking is no longer acceptable. This isn’t the Middle Ages, you know. It’s the Nineteenth Century.”

Richard was unperturbed. “I didn’t say I would insist that they marry, Charlotte. I just said that it would be jolly.”

I might mention here that Richard’s affairs were making a continuous and steady recovery from the depredations of Uncle John, who had continued to be a missing person.

We all hoped very much that he stayed that way.

At this point, Harry said, “I have an announcement to make.”

Conversation died, and we all turned to look at him expectantly. “Mary Ann Norton and I are going to be married,” he said with a grin.

“Harry!” I shrieked. ”How wonderful!”

His grin broadened. “Yes, it is, rather. We settled it between us a few weeks ago.” His eyes went to Reeve, who was sitting on the red-silk chair placed next to his. “I didn’t write because I wanted to tell you the news myself.”

Reeve clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, old fellow. She’s a grand girl.”

Harry sobered. “She is. I was afraid that her parents might object to her marrying a mere physician, but they have been very reasonable.”

I thought cynically that the fact that the “mere physician” would also be the next Lord Bradford probably had something to do with the Nortons’ “reasonableness.”

“Will you remain in London to practice?” Richard asked.

“No,” Harry said. “I shall be returning to Sussex. There are more than enough physicians in London and not nearly enough in the country.”

Reeve got to his feet and raised his champagne glass. “A toast to Harry and Mary Ann,” he said. “May they be as happy as Deb and I”—he bowed to me— “And Richard and Charlotte”—he bowed to Charlotte— “and Bernard and Elizabeth”—he bowed gracefully to Mama.

“Hear, hear,” we all said, and raised our glasses to drink the toast.

As if on cue, my butler appeared in the doorway. “Luncheon is served, my lady,” he announced.

We all filed into the drawing room, still congratulating Harry.

All of our guests were remaining overnight, and Reeve took the men shooting in the afternoon, while the women and I walked through the Ambersley gardens. Even though the summer was over, the huge gardens were still enormously impressive, with their statuary, and their many ponds and fountains, and their huge variety of plantings.

It wasn’t until later in the evening, as I was sitting at the dinner table talking to Bernard, that fatigue suddenly struck me like a blow. I thought I managed to conceal it, but when the ladies left the table to retire to one of the small drawing rooms for tea, Mama said to me in a firm voice, “Deborah, it is time that you sought your bed. I will pour the tea for you.”

I did not argue.

I went upstairs, let Susan help me undress, and then fed Helen, who was fussing.

My baby
, I thought, my lips pressed tenderly against the silky golden fuzz of her hair.
How much I love you
.

I was asleep moments after I curled up in the big velvet-hung four-poster that I shared with Reeve.

Four hours later, I awoke automatically. It amazed me how quickly my body had synchronized itself to the baby’s feeding schedule.

Reeve was not in the bed beside me, and I assumed that he was still downstairs, playing billiards or some such thing with the men.

There was a night candle burning in the dressing room when I went next door. The candle was hardly necessary, however, as the light from a full harvest moon was pouring in through the window, illuminating the room with a pale white glow.

I thought I had closed the drapes earlier, and I looked toward the window in surprise.

Reeve was standing there with the baby in his arms. The moonlight glinted off the darkness of his hair and made his eyes look almost black against his moon-bleached skin. He was gazing at Helen with an expression on his face that brought tears to my eyes and a prickly feeling to the back of my throat.

It was such a private moment that I hesitated and would have retreated back into the bedroom if he had not looked up and seen me.