Читать книгу Regency Affairs Part 2: Books 7-12 Of 12 - Ann Lethbridge - Страница 21

Much later when they lay entwined in each other’s arms, Kit smoothed her hair from her forehead. It amazed him that he once thought Harriet had no passion within her. His desire for her had grown rather than diminished. ‘You are definitely an expert rider, now.’

‘No longer in need of lessons? I think I have learnt lots about being wicked.’ She stretched her arms above her head. ‘It has been absolutely delicious.’

His heart gave an unexpected pang. Lessons in wickedness? Was that all she considered this? He knew they had agreed that it would be a summer’s affair, but he had discovered that he wanted it to continue into the autumn and beyond.

The thought shocked him. ‘No more lessons. The pupil has outshone the master.’

‘I shall take it as a compliment.’ She moved her arm and Kit heard a faint tear. She wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh, dear. More sewing.’

‘I fear our exertions have ruined your dress.’

She pulled away slightly. ‘It will mend and if Mrs Hampstead questions it, I will say that I acquired it riding. It is not less than the truth.’

A cold stab of fear went through Kit. ‘Has she questioned you before?’

‘No harm will come from today, I promise,’ she said, pulling her sleeve a bit and rearranging the material so the tear didn’t show as easily. ‘Mrs Hampstead will not enquire too closely. She never does. Discretion rules all. We are safe.’

Safety. He rolled over onto his back, moving away from her. His body protested at the sudden space. He wanted to linger and relax in her arms. He wanted her to go away with him, but she had refused and it still hurt. Staying here was the worst of all possible worlds.

‘There is always a chance of a slip. What then?’ He forced his voice to be cold. ‘A forced marriage? You know my feelings about marriage.’

‘There won’t be.’ Her cheeks stained bright red. ‘I’ve been careful.’

‘Soon autumn will be here. It will be too cold for such things.’

‘Are you really planning on travelling to the Continent so soon, then?’ she asked quickly. ‘I thought you might like to see Northumberland in the autumn. Stay a bit longer and stretch the summer out. Summer can sometimes last.’

He sighed and put his hands behind his head, staring up into the clear blue sky, rather than looking at her. Staying here with Harriet had its merits, but all it would do was to prolong the inevitable and increase the likelihood of discovery. Misery for all if he allowed it to continue.

‘After Rupert gives his lecture, I have to go to London. It can no longer be avoided. I do have business interests that I have to look after. I’ve neglected them for far too long. Like you, I have responsibilities and people depending on me to make the right choices.’

The words caused his insides to twist. Normally when the time came for a parting, he looked forward to it. This time, he hated it. It was better now, though, while they remained friends. Rules were made to be kept.

Hattie smoothed her skirt down and hugged her knees to her chest. The silence grew deafening. He willed her to ask to come with him and give him some sign that she wanted to be with him.

‘So soon?’ she whispered. ‘His lecture is tomorrow. Everyone is sure to want to fête him afterwards. He will be the toast of the Tyne for weeks to come. Surely you can stay to see your protégé shine?’

He stood absolutely still with a soft breeze blowing in his hair. Behind him, the swifts circled on the wind, getting ready to depart from Northumberland to go on their long journey back to Africa. Summer was drawing to a close as much as he might wish it to be otherwise. He’d ignored it for far too long.

‘I have stayed longer than I intended.’ His words sounded harsh, even to his own ears. ‘I’d planned to ask you to come to London with me, but you are busy. You have made that abundantly clear today.’

Hattie bit her lip. ‘But you will be back. The Lodge needs lots of work. Someone will have to supervise.’

He concentrated on doing up the buttons of his trousers and shrugging into his jacket. She wasn’t even willing to make the smallest concession. It was the right thing to end it swiftly. He had lingered far too long as it was. He did have another life, even if it was less than appealing at the moment. ‘Some day. It will depend on how my business goes, but we must stay in contact, Hattie.’

She picked a piece of grass from her skirt. ‘You always call me Harriet.’

‘Hattie, Harriet, does it really matter?’ Kit slapped his hand against his forehead. She was splitting hairs. He’d offered to take her away and she’d refused. What did she expect?

‘Yes, it does. It did.’ Her chin was tilted upwards, not giving an inch. ‘I will look forward to your return then, Sir Christopher.’

‘As you wish, Mrs Wilkinson.’ Kit mounted his horse and did not look back. It was always best in these circumstances not to. However, he could not stop a hollow opening up inside him.

Hattie made it to her drawing room without crying. The ride back, alone, was one that she wanted to forget. Each time Strawberry’s hooves pounded the ground, she wanted to ask how long—how long had he planned this? He knew what her answer had to be.

‘Hattie, what happened to your dress?’ Stephanie’s voice pierced through her misery. ‘You look like you have gone through a hedge backwards. Hopefully no one saw you like that! People will talk, you know and it will reflect on the family. Everyone knows you are my sister.’

Hattie fumbled with the sleeve. Talk about bad luck. Why did Stephanie have to choose today to come over? And to be in such a terrible mood! Why didn’t Mrs Hampstead warn her when she came through the kitchen? ‘I tore it riding.’

‘Riding? You tore it riding?’ Stephanie came over and inspected the sleeve with a frown. ‘It is the first time I have heard of riding causing such a thing.’

‘I moved my arm far too quickly. The thread wasn’t very stout.’ Hattie shifted uneasily as Stephanie’s gaze grew more piercing. ‘It is the truth, Stephanie.’

‘And with whom were you riding?’

‘Sir Christopher,’ Hattie said without thinking. ‘We had a laugh about my ineptness.’

‘Since when have you been riding with Sir Christopher?’ Stephanie’s voice rose an octave.

‘We met accidentally.’ Hattie kept her voice even. There was no need to panic. She’d had a slight slip of the tongue. It was not as if she’d actually confessed to the affair.

‘I see … and how many times have you two met accidentally in recent weeks?’

‘I fail to see why that is a concern of yours.’

‘Often, I would wager. I can see it in your face.’ Stephanie collapsed down on the damask sofa and buried her face in her hands. ‘You are worse than Livvy, Hattie. Clandestine. You know what a man Sir Christopher is on about. How do you think you will force a marriage if you meet secretly?’

‘Is there some trouble, Stephanie?’ Hattie decided to ignore the remark about forcing a marriage. ‘Surely it is not against the law to go out riding. One must be civil to those one encounters.’

‘There is civility and then there is civility. Pray tell me that you have remained sensible in all things and that you have safeguarded your reputation.’

A cold sweat pricked at the back of Hattie’s neck. She knows. But why now when everything had ended? A sudden more horrific thought struck her. Had they been spotted? Was that why Kit had provoked the fight? ‘Something is bothering you, Stephanie. You might as well come out and say it. What am I supposed to have done?’

‘I heard you had gone to the Yarridge sale with Sir Christopher, but chose to overlook it.’

‘To buy Strawberry. I explained about that.’ Hattie leant forwards. ‘Sir Christopher is an acknowledged expert in horse flesh. He wanted to thank me for assisting him during the fair. Mrs Hampstead and Harvey the groom were in attendance.’

‘Hmmm, and now you just happen to be meeting him … accidentally.’ Stephanie held out her hand. ‘Think about what you are doing, the potential for scandal.’

‘You are creating a difficulty where there is none. In any case, Sir Christopher will be departing for London soon. No more meetings.’ Just saying the words out loud threatened to bring tears. Hattie blinked rapidly. ‘You are worrying unnecessarily.’

Stephanie shook her head. ‘You have been reckless, Hattie. I can see it in your eyes, your mouth and, yes, in your ripped jacket. Sir Christopher is an entirely different proposition to Charles Wilkinson.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You have had clandestine meetings with him. Goodness knows what some farmhand or milk maid might have seen or who they might tell.’ Stephanie’s face became serious. ‘You must not do anything that jeopardises Livvy’s chances. We don’t want a scandal.’

‘There will be no scandal,’ Hattie said tonelessly. Her entire body felt numb. Stephanie wasn’t concerned about her or her reputation, but merely what it might to do to Livvy’s prospects. She hadn’t even asked Hattie how she was. Stephanie had to have seen that Hattie was upset. Instead she went on and on quizzing her about unimportant things.

Stephanie’s gaze narrowed. ‘You say this with a great deal of certainty.’

‘Sir Christopher is returning to London. Directly after Mr Hook’s lecture.’

‘Will you continue to ride out once he is gone? Or will you start behaving normally?’

‘I enjoy riding whether I encounter Sir Christopher or not. I had not really considered the proposition.’ Hattie forced her voice to stay even. ‘You are worse than a dog with a bone, Stephanie. What are you trying to tell me?’

‘All I can say, Hattie, is that you are being selfish and extremely short-sighted.’ Stephanie rose from the sofa in a huff. ‘I need you now more than ever, Hattie. Stop being selfish. Livvy keeps making excuses about going to the circulating library. I can’t have my eldest turning into a bluestocking. You will speak to her for me, won’t you? She will never get a man that way.’

Hattie balled her fists. Stephanie wasn’t really interested in her or her affair with Kit. She was simply inconvenienced. ‘There is nothing wrong with the circulating library. I presume she takes Portia. Reading is a perfectly respectable occupation.’

‘There is no need to be like that. They never meet anyone of import. Portia would tell me if they did.’ Stephanie put her nose in the air. ‘If Sir Christopher is departing, then it is all I have to say on the matter. I look forward to having the old Hattie back. You used to be so helpful, Hattie. What happened?’

‘And what if I like the new Harriet?’ ‘That is your choice, obviously.’ Stephanie sniffed. ‘But don’t come crying to me when you lose everything.’

Mrs Reynaud’s face was a beacon of welcome as Hattie entered Pearl Cottage, carrying a basket of various jams, jellies and tinctures, the next morning. Moth immediately jumped out of the basket and ran over to Mrs Reynaud to demand a biscuit.

‘I feared you had forgotten about me, Mrs Wilkinson.’ Mrs Reynaud handed Moth her treat. ‘Moth has been very bad not to insist on you coming here. And here I’d thought you and I had an arrangement, young Moth. Biscuits in return for your mistress’s company.’

Moth gave a sharp bark.

‘Your maid said that you have been under the weather.’ Hattie kept the basket in front of her. All the way here she’d debated—did she confess to Mrs Reynaud about her relationship with Kit and ask her advice or not? Mrs Reynaud was the one person in the village who had experience with such things.

‘Not so ill that I can’t receive one of my favourite people. A slight chill, nothing more. My health is less robust than I might wish. The damp of this cottage does me no good. But going out is hard. I worry about people and the lecture series. How goes it this year? Still surviving, I take it.’

Hattie felt a tug of regret. Until Kit had told her this morning about his plans to leave, she’d been so wrapped up in him that she had quite forgotten her usual routine. Stephanie was right. Her behaviour was causing comment. No more. ‘I’ve been busy. I’ve a new horse, the most lovely chestnut—Strawberry. Riding is a new passion of mine. I hadn’t realised how enjoyable it was. The freedom it gives.’

She stopped, aware that her cheeks flamed.

‘A gift from Sir Christopher, or so the gossip has it. A thank you for nursing him,’ Mrs Reynaud said with a faint frown. ‘His father always did have a good eye for horse flesh.’

‘I bought her on favourable terms with Sir Christopher’s assistance. He rescued a little stable boy.’

Mrs Reynaud waved an impatient hand. ‘You meet him on this horse of yours? Don’t lie to me, Mrs Wilkinson.’

‘I’ve discovered that I enjoy the experience far more than I thought I would.’ Hattie put down the basket. She clasped her hands together to stop them from trembling. She’d thought it over last night. She had to know more about Kit. Every time they had discussed about his childhood, he’d neatly turned the conversation away. She had to know what had gone wrong yesterday. ‘You said you knew something of Sir Christopher’s childhood. I understand it was very unhappy.’

‘A bit.’ Mrs Reynaud’s eyes turned wary and her hand trembled as she lifted the coffee cup to her lips. ‘Is it important?’

‘It was something he said, or rather didn’t say. It has been nagging at me.’ Hattie drew a deep breath. She had come this far. Other than Kit, Mrs Reynaud was the only person who might know. ‘I wondered what happened to his mother.’

‘You ought to ask Sir Christopher.’

Hattie leant forwards. ‘But you know.’

Mrs Reynaud gave a sad smile. ‘Yes, my dear, I know.’

‘Is it breaking a confidence?’

‘I doubt that. There was a criminal conversation trial which was splashed all over the papers. It became the talk of England, Europe and, I believe, America. The cartoonists had a field day with the baronet spying on his wife and her lover in the bath.’

Hattie’s heart clenched. Poor Kit. No wonder he didn’t want to speak of it. She could vaguely remember her mother discussing it in hushed tones when a friend of hers had run away. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Now you do.’

‘Unfortunately Kit’s mother was less than discreet, that is what you are saying.’ Hattie’s heart constricted. It had to be awful to have one’s parents involved in such a thing and it was never the man whose name was dragged through the mud, but the woman’s. And Kit had been left with his father, the man who saw no use for toys. ‘What a dreadful mess. The father always gets custody in those cases and Kit’s father was horrible.’

‘You call him Kit now, do you?’ Mrs Reynaud gave a warm laugh. ‘Behold the woman who will never have a flirtation, who is one of the walking dead because her husband died. Who disapproved of such things intensely.’ Her gaze became piercing. ‘I trust it remains only a flirtation. Sir Christopher has a certain reputation.’

‘We are friends.’ Hattie waved a vague hand before leaning forwards. She’d reached the crux of the matter and only Mrs Reynaud could assist. ‘He helped me when I bought my new horse, but I am interested in his mother. Do you know what became of her? Is she dead?’

‘Yes, his mother was silly and naïve. She sought romance in the wrong set of arms.’ Mrs Reynaud’s mouth twisted. ‘A hopeless romantic who didn’t realise what she had lost until too late. Pray do not concern yourself with a piece of flotsam like her.’

Hattie stared at Mrs Reynaud, remembering the stories she had told and the way she had described herself. Hattie narrowed her gaze, comparing. Her stomach tightened with excitement. It made sense now. She’d wondered that she had not seen it before. Mrs Reynaud’s eyes were the exact same myriad shades of grey as Kit’s. Then there was the shape of their jaws. ‘You’re Kit’s mother, the scandalous woman.’

‘I have no idea what you are talking about, my dear.’ Mrs Reynaud raised her teacup, hiding her expression. ‘Did I ever tell you about the sheikh and me? It is a wonderful story. It is sure to entertain you immensely.’

Hattie crossed the floor and knelt at Mrs Reynaud’s feet and gathered Mrs Reynaud’s hand between hers. ‘I should like to think we are friends, Mrs Reynaud. Why didn’t you tell me that Sir Christopher Foxton was your son when he first arrived here?’

Mrs Reynaud’s body vibrated with emotion. A long drawn-out sigh emerged from her throat as she bowed her head. ‘Does it really matter? I gave up the right to be anyone’s mother years ago. All I did was to try to play matchmaker. You are the sort of woman he should have as a bride, rather than the women he has squired throughout the years. You are beautiful and intelligent, the sort of woman I always hoped he’d marry. I may not have seen him, but I have retained an interest.’

‘I shall take that for a yes.’ Hattie refused to think about Mrs Reynaud’s attempt at matchmaking. Her stomach churned. She’d nearly confided about her affair to Kit’s mother. ‘He has your eyes and your jaw. I suspect your sense of humour as well.’

‘I know about the eyes and jaw, but will have to take your word for the humour. I haven’t spoken to Christopher for years.’ Mrs Reynaud’s cheeks flushed pink.

‘And the other men? Did you really lead a scandalous life?’

Mrs Reynaud lifted her head defiantly. ‘I had to survive after Christopher’s father ruined me. Thanks to my marriage settlement, my late husband was able to lay claim to my inheritance and use it how he pleased. He refused to divorce me in the end and kept me on pin money. The criminal conversation was proved, but my lover only had to pay a meagre fivepence for destroying my reputation. He and I parted.’ Mrs Reynaud spread her gnarled hands. ‘I made sure my late husband knew about each and every one of my new lovers. It served my purposes to have him suffer.’

‘Your late husband. Kit’s father.’ The words tasted like ash.

‘Yes.’ The word was barely audible. ‘When I left, I thought it would be only for a few weeks before I could get Christopher to join me. Christopher’s father had shown no interest in the boy. But I lived in a fool’s paradise. The courts look ill on fallen women who leave their husbands.’

‘But he’s been dead for years. Why haven’t you been in touch with Kit? He must long for his mother. He is your son. I know if my mother was alive, I’d want to see her.’

Mrs Reynaud touched her pockmarked face. ‘You know what I look like. I fell ill just before Christopher’s father died. Divine retribution. I changed my name by deed poll as soon as I could. I didn’t want to shame him.’

‘You’re his mother.’

‘I am the woman who left him. He was only four. At first I tried to justify it. He had his nurse. He had stability and John, my brother-in-law, promised to look after him as much as he could. John desired me once, you see. The brothers were like that—rivals.’ She held up her hands and turned her face away. ‘When John gave me this cottage, I agreed I would never contact Christopher. My late husband spent my inheritance. I had nothing. I had no choice.’

Hattie clenched her fists. Mrs Reynaud had had a choice. She had simply chosen not to take it. ‘Go on.’

‘The agreement was I would let him contact me. I have stuck by the agreement. John used to share his letters with me. He’d bring them over and read them. The highlight of my existence, those letters. I used to write to him. I have packets of letters which were never sent, just waiting for the day when he did contact me.’

‘Does he know you are here?’

‘John promised to leave him a letter. Once, a long time ago, I begged John for a chance to see Kit. He brought him to the Stagshaw fair. I made wild plans. John suggested we run away together and raise him. In the end I lacked the courage as I loved John like a brother, not a lover. It wouldn’t be fair to him. I bought Christopher a jumping-jack and had John give it to him. Shortly afterwards, I left for the Continent.’

‘Your former husband and brother-in-law are dead,’ Hattie whispered. She didn’t dare tell Susan Reynaud about the jumping-jack and what it had meant to Kit. She also knew the longing she had seen in his face when he spoke about his mother. She and Kit might have ended, but she cared about him. He needed to know that his mother wanted him. He needed to read those letters that his mother had saved for him. The question was how to do it. She couldn’t just show up at his house and demand.

‘But I’m alive and I gave my word.’ Mrs Reynaud shook her head. ‘Some mistakes you never recover from, my dear. I learnt that the hard way. I would like to see him just once. Not to speak to, necessarily, but to see. There is nothing I could say to him which would explain why I did what I did. Could you help me?’

Hattie hated the way her stomach trembled. Kit was leaving. He might never be returning. It might be the only chance for Kit to learn the truth—that his mother did care about him. She hated to think about might-have-beens. She knew she’d regret it if she didn’t do it. She wasn’t going to think about giving him a reason to stay. They were finished. The summer was over.

‘Kit’s ward, Rupert Hook, is giving a lecture tomorrow,’ she said, coming to a sudden decision. ‘You could attend. You are one of the patrons of the lecture series. You can at least see what he looks like. You don’t have to greet Kit, but you could see him.’

Mrs Reynaud’s hands trembled and she set down her teacup. Her grey eyes swam. ‘Yes, of course. No one would think it amiss. I just want to see what he looks like, to see if there is anything of me in him. I’m so frightened that …’

‘You can sit next to me,’ Hattie said.

‘You are a good woman, Hattie Wilkinson.’

‘I can’t understand why you did what you did, Mrs Reynaud, but I do know you can only change the future. Take the first step.’

‘It tore the life out of me to leave him, but my marriage was intolerable. I don’t expect you to understand. I made some bad choices in my life and I have paid for them, but the one I never regretted was having Kit.’ Mrs Reynaud straightened her back. ‘You are right, my dear. It is time I faced my demons. I will take your suggestion and go to the lecture. You have given me strength.’

The Corbridge Village Hall was full to bursting for Rupert’s lecture. Kit regarded the various personages—the great and the good going in to hear Rupert. He had handled things badly with Hattie. The break had been too abrupt, too final. Normally he was far more civilised about such things.

Rather than going to the front and taking his seat, he waited at the back to escort Hattie to hers. He’d make one last attempt and then they’d be through.

An elderly pockmarked lady half-stumbled on the step leading to the hall. Kit put out a hand and caught her before she tumbled completely. ‘The steps up can be tricky,’ he said. She gave him an odd look. ‘Yes, they can.’ ‘You must take better care on them.’ The woman gave a small smile. ‘I will.’ ‘Mrs Reynaud—’ Hattie stopped. The colour drained from her face.

Kit froze. He stared at Mrs Reynaud and knew. She was his mother. His stomach plummeted. He moved away from the woman, from his mother. This was most definitely not where he wanted to meet her and not in front of a crowd of people.

From Hattie’s reaction, he knew that she knew the truth as well. Somehow Hattie was aware of who his mother was. For how long? Had she engineered this meeting?

Deep-seated anger filled him. He disliked being manipulated. If his mother wanted to meet him, she knew where he was. He had hardly kept his whereabouts secret, but she had. He struggled to control his temper. It was wrong of Hattie to do this, particularly after their quarrel. She had set him up. It seemed everyone in the entire lecture hall had turned to look at him and his mother. It was worse than a nightmare. His first impulse was to run away, but he rejected that idea. All that would show was cowardice. He was no coward.

Whatever happened, he refused to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing his emotions. Politeness and graciousness. Nothing to show that he was hurt beyond measure by both of their behaviours. He swallowed hard and regained control of his emotions. He knew what he had to do. Hattie with her superior expression would be held to account for her behaviour.

‘I wish both of you the joy of the evening. You must forgive me, but I have a lecture to attend. I made a promise to my ward. Mrs Wilkinson, Mrs Reynaud, your servant.’

Hattie’s hand flew to her mouth as she watched Kit stalk off. He had cut her and Mrs Reynaud with absolute aplomb.

She heard several shocked gasps and knew the encounter had not gone unremarked.

She had made a grave error. She had never considered Mrs Reynaud would actually encounter Kit face to face, as it were, in the lobby before everyone. The final look he gave her before he turned away had damned her for all eternity, but he seemed in control, greeting any number of people with perfect politeness as if the meeting meant nothing to him.

She went over to where Mrs Reynaud stood, clutching her reticule to her chest with a distressed look on her face. ‘This is all my fault.’

‘He knows?’ Mrs Reynaud choked out.

‘Yes, I believe he does … now.’ She put an arm about Mrs Reynaud’s shoulders. ‘It will have been a shock for him and for you. If there is anything I can do for you … just ask.’

‘I should go. It was wrong of me to come. I should have waited for him to contact me as John suggested. He looked so like his father then. It quite unnerved me.’ She moved out of Hattie’s embrace. ‘You must allow me to depart, Mrs Wilkinson.’

‘What, and miss this lecture? You can sit next to me and we shall hear this lecture. See, Livvy is signalling to us.’

Mrs Reynaud fumbled in her reticule and withdrew a battered lady jumping-jack. ‘No, I won’t enjoy it. Give Kit this jumping-jack from me. It is up to him then. You may tell him where to find me. Please do this for me, Mrs Wilkinson.’

Hattie closed her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to have a confrontation with Kit, but how could she refuse? She had to do something to make amends … to both of them.