An Improper Companion Page 14

  My eyes appeared to look at each of them, but in reality I saw nothing. I withdrew, forcing my steps to the slowest pace they were capable of. I continued down the hall and through the kitchens, my head erect, greeting those I passed but not pausing. I calmly walked out of the castle and toward my favorite copse of trees. Halfway there I broke and ran into their sheltering midst, sobbing as I ran. Over and over the words chased through my head, “My father ... my father...”

  I reached out to steady myself against a tree, almost blind with tears. I leaned against it, my head tilted back. “My father ... my father...”

  I still could not fully accept what I had heard. All my life, until a month before, I had believed my father dead. And my mother. Was it possible my mother...? I forced myself not to consider the thought. My father. A month ago I had learned he had not died but deserted me ... his illegitimate daughter. I was never to see him or know his name. And now ... now I had met him. He was a man I did not like and did not want to know. Why, why had he come? I no longer needed him, and I could not bear his boasting to the world of my shameful birth. How could my mother have loved such a man? Or was she, as Mrs. Gilwen had implied, a lightskirt who cared only for the gifts a man might bring? I felt bewildered. None of my assumptions had been true, it seemed, and I knew not where to begin again. I felt dizzy and leaned harder against the tree, my head aching.

  After some time, I moved to a rock at the water’s edge and sat. I was exhausted, drained of my fury and tears. I must think, I told myself, and determine what was to be done. There was no one I might turn to Mary? Even if she did not reject me now, she was well meaning but not very wise. Leslie? The name was bitter in my mouth. My husband! He had known and not told me. Nor had he stopped my father from speaking. Well he should suffer for it! He had been so concerned that none guess the cause of our marriage. Well, here was far greater shame for him to face! Why had he let my father come? What, dear God, could I do? Run away? Where could I go? Who would receive me after this?

  Over and over the thoughts went round my head. Looking in the water, a tear-swollen face stared back at me, and I bathed it in the cool water. This calmed me some, and my thoughts became more coherent, then turned wild again as the hopelessness of my position bore relentlessly in on me. At times I paced under the trees, and at times I stood and stared at the water. I considered the possibility of refusing to see Lord Pellen during the rest of his visit, and I considered speaking with him long enough to ask him to leave. But these emotions also passed, and finally I was left standing, staring at the water, with a quiet resignation. Soon, I would return to the castle and face what must be faced.

  I stood thus for some time, how long I cannot say. Then from behind me came a voice, “Don’t, Heather!”

  I turned to see Leslie only a few feet away. As my brain strove to digest the knowledge he came and pulled me roughly toward him. I stumbled and fell against his chest and his arms immediately encircled me. After a moment, the shock wore away, however, and I tore myself free. An arm’s length away, I stared up at him. His face was distorted by an emotion I did not know. I saw him anxiously glance past me to the water, then at my face. And I understood. I moved away from the stream, careful not to approach any closer to him. In a voice tinged with contempt, I said, “You need not fear. I have no intention of killing myself.” His tense shoulders relaxed and I continued, “Whatever else you may believe me to be, I am not such a coward.”

  “Oh? You ran from your guests and left the castle.”

  I looked down. “I believe I had a good cause to leave. Nor did I run.”

  His voice, when it came was heavy with anger and sarcasm. “Well, Heather, if you are quite finished with your childish games, shall we return to the castle? You need not fear, the Bentworths have left.”

  “Childish games!” I exclaimed in disbelief.

  “Yes, children’s games,” he retorted. “Running out of the castle and hiding in the woods. Philip and Peter are also out searching for you. There would be others except that I did not wish this latest foolishness bandied about, among the servants.”

  “They have enough other cause to gossip,” I laughed bitterly.

  Leslie ignored me. “Why didn’t you answer when I called your name?”

  “I didn’t hear you,” I said sulkily.

  “Not hear me!” he exclaimed. “I did not realise my voice was so softly pitched. Come, madam, admit you did not wish to hear me.”

  The injustice of this accusation angered me further. “Had I heard you, sir,” I said between clenched teeth, “I should have answered.”

  He stared at me for a moment, then said quietly, “Shall we go in? Your father wishes to speak with you.”

  “How dare you invite him here?” I demanded. “I don’t wish to speak with him!”

  Leslie’s voice was sharp. “You forget yourself. This is still my castle and I invite whom I wish. As for speaking with Lord Pellen, you have no choice. If you will not come willingly, I shall carry you. It will be a most undignified experience for you.”

  Aghast, I stepped back and turned to run. A hand closed harshly about one wrist and the other arm around my waist. From over my shoulder, as my heart pounded, came his voice. “Well? Which is it to be?”

  I forced my head up. “I’ll come.”

  After a moment, apparently satisfied, Leslie released my waist but not my wrist. He did not speak as he dragged me out of the copse and I could not understand what was happening. Even of Leslie I would not have expected such Turkish treatment. “Can we not walk slower?” I gasped.

  “We have kept your father waiting long enough!” he tossed back at me.

  “You knew!” I accused bitterly.

  “Yes, I knew,” he said grimly.

  The effort to keep pace with Leslie reduced me to silence. Only when we reached the castle did he slow. “Smile,” he warned.

  Mrs. Morgan met us at the door. “If Master Philip or Peter return,” he told her softly, “tell them Lady Kinwell is found.”

  She nodded, and pretending an amiability neither of us felt, Leslie and I proceeded to the library. Lord Pellen was seated at the desk, waiting. He stood as we entered and Leslie, not content with dragging me here, thrust me into a chair. Pellen waited for Leslie to shut the library door, then shook his head at me. “My dear child, I am disappointed. I thought you were made of sterner stuff. Nevertheless, your behaviour was not a disaster. Mrs. Bentworth quite naturally assumed you were a well-bred young lady who disdained to reply to her insult.”

  Though stunned, I now found my tongue. “Indeed? How fortunate. Yet I wonder how she reacted to your reply. I am very sorry, father, but somehow I could not bear to stay and hear you confirm her suspicions. Was it necessary to tell her I was your by-blow? But then what should I have expected of a man who deserted me at birth, spending barely enough to keep me at school and allow me two dresses a year? And who should cease even this meagre aid upon my eighteenth birthday!”

  “That will be quite enough!” Pellen’s voice rang out. “You speak from ignorance. First, as I told Mrs. Bentworth, you are not illegitimate. Your mother, Elizabeth Wade, and I eloped and though underage, were married nineteen years ago. If you care to see them, I have the marriage lines.” I nodded and he passed a paper over to me, and I saw the names and the fact of their marriage stated there. At last I looked at my father questioningly. “That’s better,” he said. “Elizabeth’s father opposed the match and he disowned her. My parents were more incensed and physically dragged me home. Elizabeth was the daughter of a clergyman. I, the future earl, betrothed to a wealthy heiress from an eminent family. My parents tried to annul the marriage, but Elizabeth was pregnant. I was kept locked at home until you were born, while my parents hushed up the elopement and, unknown to me, did not break my engagement. Elizabeth died giving birth to you, Heather. That much I know to be true. But I was also told you had died. Within a year I allowed myself to be married to the heiress, who had no notion this was my second
marriage. Secretly my mother arranged for your care and education, determined no one should ever know of your existence. She was afraid it would destroy my marriage. I did not learn of you until Sir Leslie came to inform me he intended to marry you.”

  I sat in shock, finally managing to say, “But Mrs. Gilwen said I was illegitimate.”

  Leslie answered. “She thought you were. Lord Pellen’s mother claimed to be your guardian but swore Mrs. Gilwen to secrecy. She scented a scandal.”

  “You must not judge my mother too harshly,” Pellen said, “She felt she was doing the best for me and doing her duty by you. When Mrs. Gilwen offered to give you a position at the school, my mother felt it would be suitable.”

  “Suitable!” I exclaimed. “An unpaid teacher?”

  “She did not realise this was the sort of position meant,” he said soothingly.

  “And now?” I asked.

  “Now? Now I shall recognise you, of course,” he replied. “After this morning the entire countryside will soon know you are my daughter by a prior marriage, one which lasted a regrettably short time. In London, an announcement has been placed to the effect that Sir Leslie Kinwell and Lady Heather, daughter of the Earl of Pellen, have been married.”

  “Don’t you think someone will wonder why I have never been seen at your house with you?” I demanded sarcastically.

  He sighed. “You are being difficult, Heather. The answer is really quite simple. I was away when my wife, Elizabeth, gave birth. Due to some confusion, I was told both Elizabeth and the baby had died. I have just recently been united with my long-lost daughter whom I discovered because she has been given (due to a clerical error) the name Heather Wade. Such a touching and romantic story.”

  “And who had been caring for me?”

  “A childless woman, who believed you to have been abandoned, anonymously provided the money for you to be sent to school. Alas, you have never known the name of your benefactress. Nor, despite my efforts, have I been able to discover it.” He smiled. “Later this Season I shall introduce to society my charming daughter who is now Lady Kinwell. You will be veritably inundated with respectability and will be able to claim your rightful place in the ton.”

  He was very pleased with himself and I was forced to admit the tale was clever, the ruse might work. Ruse? It was essentially the truth. I was respectable. And yet I disliked the idea of even this amount of deception. “And if I do not choose to play out the farce?” I asked.

  Leslie moved to stand beside Lord Pellen. “You have no choice, Heather,” my husband replied. “I do not intend to let you set foot in London until you have agreed. Remember, my position is at stake also.” My eyes narrowed and he hastened to add, “But you will gain—or lose—the most. It is to your advantage to secure an unsullied reputation so easily.”

  “Very well,” I said at last, “I see I have no alternative. And upon reflection, I am grateful, Lord Pellen. You could easily have continued to ignore my existence.”

  Leslie smiled oddly and Pellen coughed. “Yes, well ... er ... never mind that.” He hesitated. “I think it best if you call me Father.” I nodded and he grew bolder. “I must say, Heather, I am quite pleased with you. When Sir Leslie told me you existed, I had no notion what to expect. After all, I’d never seen you, had I? Oh, of course I knew you’d been sent to excellent schools; still such training is no guarantee. But I am definitely pleased. You recall that last night I seemed to be quite rude? No doubt you felt I was extremely impertinent? Well, of course you were right. You see, I was testing you. I wished to see how composed you would remain. You have dignity, my dear, you have dignity. I was disappointed this morning when you fled the room, but even then it might have been worse. A little experience and you shall deal quite well in society. You must be presented at court, naturally, and I shall undertake to arrange that myself. My wife, Lady Phyllis, will coach you.”

  “Are you sure she will wish to?” I asked skeptically.

  Lord Pellen seemed surprised at the question. “Of course. Phyllis is a sensible woman. She will see the importance of it. And she knows protocol as well as I.”

  For the next several minutes, Leslie and my father discussed how best to manage the affair. When should I arrive in London? Whom should I see? Decisions on matters such as these were made. As they talked I tried to think over what I had been said. I still could not quite believe all I had heard. Then I found myself wondering, “What did you tell Mrs. Bentworth?”

  Pellen looked up, startled. “Eh? Oh, why, I told her our touching story. She was quite embarrassed and most apologetic for her ... rudeness. I was, at first, stiffly cool, then allowed myself to be coaxed into amiability. I believe it is safe to wager that by week’s end everyone will have heard the tale. You may expect a great many bride-visits, my dear. As for Mrs. Bentworth, I am sure you will see her again, suitably respectful the next time.” At the sight of my face, he added, “Yes, I know. I detest the woman myself. But you must learn to be polite to such people. Handled properly, they often prove to be quite useful.”

  I nodded since he seemed to expect it, but I was not happy. Leslie and my father began to talk again. I was startled to hear the words, “... marriage settlement, Sir Leslie. It ought to be arranged before I leave here.”

  “Marriage settlement?” I asked stupidly.

  “Of course. I must settle something on you,” Lord Robert explained. “It would seem odd otherwise.”

  “I do not want your money,” I heard myself say.

  “My dear child, that is for your husband to decide. Now, Sir Leslie...”

  I swallowed, foolishly hurt and angry that Leslie had not refused. I felt ill and very small and I found myself wondering why my mother had married this man. Or had he been different then? Gentler, kinder perhaps? Why had my mother’s father opposed the match? Why had Lord Pellen allowed himself to be dragged home? Well, perhaps he hadn’t a choice. But why marry the other girl, less than a year after my mother’s death? If my mother had not died, what then should my father’s family have done? Had I not been born Robert’s parents might well have contrived an annulment. What of my mother then? My mother. Did she believe herself simply deserted? Or did she know or guess that her husband had been removed against his will? Lord Pellen’s voice scattered my melancholy thoughts. “Well, Heather, have you any questions?”

  “What did she look like?”

  “Who?”

  “My mother!” There was impatience in my voice. Whom else could I have meant?

  “Oh. Very much like you, I believe. The same sort of hair and eyes. A somewhat softer chin and mouth. She was a bit more feminine and delicate perhaps,” he answered with a shrug.

  More submissive? I wondered silently. “Did you love her?” I asked aloud.

  “Love her? I must have thought I did or I should not have eloped with her against the wishes of our families,” my father said.

  “And Phyllis? Did you love her?” I persisted.

  “No, of course not. What an absurd notion.”

  I could not hide my shock. “Absurd? Why?”

  Lord Pellen sighed, but his patience was unshakeable. “My dear child, I can see that someone unwisely has allowed you to read novels. You must realise that love is a very poor foundation for marriage. Consider Elizabeth and myself. We only had two weeks together before we were found, and yet we succeeded in making each other extremely unhappy. Of necessity, we had differing opinions on many subjects and this distressed us. We each felt the need to convert the other. And naturally it was impossible. We could not, moreover, bear to be apart even for the very shortest period of time. That may do during a short honeymoon, but believe me, very soon one tires of such restrictions and wants more freedom. Then, of course, one has jealousy. It is simply impossible to avoid and is a great strain on one’s emotions. One is constantly seeking reassurance of the other’s love. My dear, the best sort of marriage is one without this nonsense of love. Easier on everyone.

  “Consider my marriage wit
h Phyllis. We liked each other, in a general sort of way. But none of this ‘love.’ We were of the same social background and had common interests and common friends. This was the most important factor, not emotions. Well, we dealt very well with each other. Since we were not in love, we felt no zeal to change each other’s opinions. Nor did we feel the need to hold each other accountable for our movements. Since we had always been friends, we provided a suitable companionship for each other. Without the annoying problem of one or the other taking offence over some silly little matter. And since Phyl was never in love with me, she was not in the least disturbed when I found it necessary to supplement our marital activities with ... er ... companionship elsewhere. The only demand she made was that I should be discreet. That’s reasonable enough, ain’t it?”

  “Quite!” I murmured sarcastically.

  He glanced at me sharply, but as I continued to watch him demurely, he continued, “We’ve similar wants, Phyl and I, and she’s very reasonable about helping me get them. Consider, for example, the matter of your existence. Had we been in love, Phyl might well have kicked up a fuss. She might even have refused to receive you. But this way she can be quite sensible. I can trust her to confirm anything I say. And if Phyl confirms my story, no one else will dare question it. They’d be insulting Phyl if they did, you see. Had I known then what I know now, I’d never have run off with Elizabeth. Silly thing to do. The best marriages have nothing to do with love. Only causes problems, my dear. Why, consider you and Leslie. No love there when you married, was there? But you’re dealing quite well with each other, I’d say.”

  “Would you?” I asked with raised eyebrows.

  “Would you rather be ruined?” Lord Pellen demanded. “I’d wager not. You’ve a good social position, respectability, money, and in a few years, children. What else could you want?”

  “There will be no children,” I said as I met his gaze full on.

  “No children? Why the devil not? You’ve given yourself no time to discover that,” Pellen replied in astonishment.