The Secret Duke (6 page)

She kissed the last bundle of Lady Raddall’s letters, sending thanks to the dear lady, and put them with her other packed belongings.

“There,” she said, rising to close and lock the trunk.

A glance at the clock showed that over half an hour had passed, and Bella was suddenly terrified that her brother and sister might have managed to talk Mr. Clatterford out of his plan. She put her hat on top of her plain cap and jabbed in a long pin, grabbed her thin cloak and darned gloves, and rushed back to the little drawing room.

She found Mr. Clatterford alone, enjoying tea and scones. He beamed at her. “Ready? Excellent.” He rose, patting butter from his lips with a napkin. “Sir Augustus and your sister had business elsewhere, but I think we can dispense with the farewells, eh?”

“Happily,” Bella said, still catching her breath. She had to ask. “It is true?”

“Your money? Yes, my dear.”

Heart thumping, Bella asked, “How much?”

“The estate is still being settled, but the total is in the range of fifteen thousand pounds. Your family were so overcome by that, they had to stagger away to recover.”

Bella wanted to laugh, but she didn’t think she dared even smile until she was outside. Until she was off the Carscourt estate, in fact.

When the door opened, she spun in alarm, and then closed her eyes in relief. “Here’s Henry with your clothes, Mr. Clatterford. Do let us go!”

Mr. Clatterford reswathed himself. When they left, Henry winked at Bella. She did smile a little then, and whispered, “Thank you. If you or Jane suffers for this, you must contact Mr. Clatterford in Tunbridge Wells. We will help.”

They hurried downstairs and out. Henry and the groom got Bella’s trunk into the boot, and Bella climbed inside.

She was wound tight now, dreadfully afraid that Augustus would think of some way to stop this. She didn’t know why he was so ferociously set on continuing the oppression begun by their father, but he was. Lucinda would simply be having a fit.

Mr. Clatterford climbed into the carriage. Bella watched the door for Augustus. The solicitor took the opposite seat, the one with the back to the horses.

“Oh, no, sir,” Bella said, rising to exchange. “Let me . . .”

“Age before beauty?” he said. “If you don’t object, may I sit beside you, Miss Isabella? I confess, I do not care to ride with my back to the horses, but I see no reason either of us should.”

They both settled, and the carriage moved off.

Bella watched the front door as long as she could. It remained firmly shut, and irrationally that started to worry her. She’d rather see Augustus shaking his fist at her than not know where he was, what he was doing.

Finally she could see the door no more. She looked forward, trying to believe. “I don’t know how to thank you, Mr. Clatterford.”

He patted her hand. “No need, no need. I apologize for not being here on your birthday, as Lady Raddall wished, but we had extensive rains that made the roads very difficult, and I didn’t think it wise.”

“It’s a long journey, sir.”

“Not too long when the roads are dry, but the weather is unseasonable. I detect that Carscourt has not replenished the hot bricks in here. We’ll see to that once we’ve traveled a few miles.”

Bella was used to being chilly, but warm bricks would be delightful. A warm cloak would be even more so. She’d had one once. Perhaps she would again?

Pretty clothes and pretty shoes, assemblies and balls. Even attentive swains . . . It was as if four years were sliding away.

Carscourt didn’t have gates, but the extent of the estate was marked by pillars. Bella watched them pass. The first mark of freedom, but they were still in an area full of Augustus’s tenants.

Soon they were rolling down the street of the village of Cars Green. Only yesterday, a trip here would have felt like liberty, but now Bella felt still within prison. To be dragged back now would break her, she knew. She glanced at Mr. Clatterford, wondering if he could be part of some elaborate trick. . . .

A shout made her stiffen in terror.

The carriage stopped. She should have known escape was impossible.

 

 

 

 

T
he groom opened the door. “There’s a woman here wants to speak to you, miss.”

Bella looked out, heart still hammering, trying to place the fat village woman. She wore a scarf around her head and was clutching a bundle.

“It’s Mistress Gussage, Miss Bella,” she said. “Peg Oaks as was! I was a schoolroom maid when you was young, and then I married Gussage, the assistant game-keeper.”

Bella remembered her, but was still bewildered. Was the bundle a gift?

“Yes, of course. What can I do for you, Mistress Gussage?”

The seamed face contorted in something between a smile and a grimace, and then the woman blurted, “Can I come with you, Miss Bella? It’s not right you going off with a man on your own. Not after . . .” She definitely grimaced then. “Not that I ever thought . . . And I’ve no one now Bill’s gone, see. Never had any chicks, marrying late as I did. And I’d like to see a bit of the world.”

Bella was nonplussed, and looked to Mr. Clatterford for guidance.

“If the woman’s suitable, it’s an excellent idea,” he said. “We certainly wouldn’t want to give even crumbs for scandal.”

Bella could imagine it: Augustus in some way turning her departure into wickedness and using it against her. She remembered Peg Oaks as a kind, cheerful, and energetic worker.

“Come in, then, Mistress Gussage. We’ll sort out your baggage later. And thank you.”

The woman beamed, climbed the steps, and squeezed through the doorway to collapse on the opposite seat. “As for baggage, I’m stout, but not this stout, miss.” She was still catching her breath. “I’m carrying most of my clothes on my body.”

Mr. Clatterford commanded the coach to go on, and it did, picking up speed, thank heavens.

“Are you quite sure, Mistress Gussage?” Bella asked.

“Call me Peg, miss, and yes, I’m sure. I’m no fine lady and I’ve never been five miles from Cars Green, but I may have some simple skills that’ll help you.”

“But how did you know I was leaving?”

“It’s all around the village by now, miss. Babs, the scullery maid, ran down with the news. As soon as I heard, I thought as it wasn’t right, you going off alone with a strange man.” She gave Clatterford a look.

He smiled at her. “Very right, ma’am, and you are very welcome. But we are going far from here. The journey to Tunbridge Wells will take two days.”

Peg Gussage looked like someone who’d marched thoughtlessly into a lion’s den, but she said, “Quite sure, sir. I have little to fill my days now, and I meant it when I said I’d like to see a bit of the world before I die.”

“Very well. And if you do decide to return home at some point, of course I or Miss Barstowe will arrange that for you. For now, if you are to be Miss Barstowe’s maid companion, we must consider your wages and perquisites.”

His suggestions left Peg slack-jawed, but she nodded vigorously.

Bella realized she was smiling, a true smile at last. She was deeply thankful Peg was with them, but she especially relished being able to make someone so happy with a quite modest amount of money.

She didn’t have much experience of money. At seventeen she’d had her pin money, but all her bills for gowns and such had gone directly to her father. Since then, she’d had no money at all. However, she was sure that anyone could live comfortably on the interest of fifteen thousand pounds.

They did stop at an inn for hot bricks, and then again to change horses, but they spoke little. Bella had questions, but she’d been raised not to speak of money and such matters in front of the servants. For now she was content simply to travel farther and farther from Carscourt.

Eventually, however, thoughts of her future became insistent.

Did she want to go to Tunbridge Wells?

Once, the answer would have been yes, for her great-grandmother would have been there, but now, she wasn’t sure. It was a fashionable watering place, and that frightened her. Bella Barstowe might have been freed from prison, but she was still trapped by her reputation. She could be shunned.

When she’d persisted in her refusal to marry Squire Thoroughgood, her father had ceased to keep her scandal secret. No one had believed her protestations of innocence, and she couldn’t truly blame them, for her story was very thin.

She’d had to admit that she’d made a tryst with a man, a man merely passing through the area whom she’d met once at an assembly. It had been foolish, but she’d been foolish at seventeen and so confident of her safety.

She hadn’t gone off in a carriage with him willingly, however. She’d been carried off by force to a low sort of tavern, where she’d been kept locked in a room for two days. “Simon Naiscourt”—she suspected the name was false—and his older accomplice, who had seemed to be in charge, had told her she was being held for ransom. They’d promised that no harm would come to her, but that if she tried to scream or shout, they’d bind and gag her.

She’d been afraid, but certain her father would pay the ransom and she’d soon be free. Her father would be furious and probably confine her to the house for weeks for the tryst, but he was frequently furious at her for what he called her flighty, foolish ways. Sitting in the dismal, dirty room she had thought he might be right.

The reason no one had believed her account was that her father had never seen a ransom demand. Instead he’d received a letter from Simon explaining that he and Bella were in love and were running away to Scotland to marry.

She’d never been able to make sense of that. Her captors had been so impatient, so frustrated at the lack of response. But her father had shown her Simon’s letter.

She’d not known about the letter until her return, however, so when her captors had tired of waiting and forced her south with them, she’d been able to think only that her father had decided to punish her by letting her reap the consequences of her folly for a while. It had been hard to believe—he was strict and stern, but she’d never have thought him capable of such callousness—but the only alternative was that he’d abandoned her entirely, and that was inconceivable. She’d continued to expect rescue at every moment.

In the end, she’d had to rescue herself.

With the help of Captain Rose.

There was a person she hadn’t allowed herself to think about for years. For some ridiculous reason, in the early months of her imprisonment she’d imagined him rushing to her rescue. Idiocy. If he had rushed to Carscourt it would have been to demand her arrest for horse stealing.

She’d soon ceased dreaming all foolish dreams, and now was not a time to return to them. She needed a home, but there’d be no more balls and assemblies for disgraced Bella Barstowe.

 

When they stopped for the night, she and Peg Gussage shared one room, Peg all afluster. “My, my, I’ve never stayed at an inn before, Miss Bella. What a fine bed! And here’s another beneath it for me. My, my,” she repeated as she rolled it out.

Bella had been used to sharing her bed with her personal maid when she had one, but was glad of the truckle. She was grateful to have Peg Gussage as companion, but wasn’t quite ready to share a bed with her.

She deliberately asked for supper to be served in their room, because she also wasn’t ready to discuss her future with Mr. Clatterford. As they ate soup, she asked, “Do you mind where we live, Peg?”

“Me, ma’am? No. Anywhere’s new to me. This is delicious soup. So rich.”

Bella smiled. There was something to be said for a companion so pleased with everything. A lot to be said.

“Mr. Clatterford expects me to go to Tunbridge Wells, where my great-grandmother lived. It’s also where he has his business. But I want somewhere quieter.”

Peg spread butter thickly onto fresh bread. “Why, miss?”

“I didn’t run off with that man, Peg, but no one in the neighborhood believes me, and it’s not surprising. Silly Bella Barstowe ran off with a charming rascal and was discarded once her virtue was gone. She then multiplied her shame by refusing a decent marriage.”

“Squire Thoroughgood,” Peg muttered in disgust. “Thoroughly bad, in the opinion of most!”

“So I gather, but most people seem to think that any marriage is better than none for a ruined woman, and once I made it clear my refusal was absolute, my father allowed the story to spread around the area. From there, it could have gone anywhere by letter.”

“But four years ago, miss. It’ll all be forgotten.”

“I wish I could believe that.” Bella remembered her cooling soup and drank some. “It could be particularly remembered in Tunbridge Wells, however, because of my connection to Lady Raddall. She may even have spoken of it to friends. In outrage, I’m sure, but will people remember that, or just remember the shame?”

Peg pulled a face. “Happen you’re right, miss, but then what about your older sister? The one as married.”

“Athena?” Bella considered it, but only for a moment.

Athena lived near Maidstone, and it was to her she’d fled from Dover. Athena might want to take her in, for she had a sense of duty, but her husband saw Bella Barstowe as a destructive influence on his young daughters. Even if Athena persuaded him they should offer her shelter, she would be seen as a sinner and expected to be grateful and penitent all her days.

She couldn’t speak of such matters to a servant, so she simply said, “No, it wouldn’t do.” She finished her soup, trying to find some possibility.

It seemed a bold notion, but she wanted independence. Years of imprisonment made the slightest hint of confinement unbearable, but was freedom possible for a young lady of twenty-one?

Could she seem older, and even a different person, free of scandal?