To Marry a Marquis Page 13

  Rosamund shook her head, too miserable to speak again.

  'Then I shall leave you now. Pray do not wait dinner for me: Lord Whitworth wishes to talk privately with me. I shall dine with him.'

  Rosamund did not move until he had gone out of the room. She listened to his footsteps retreating and only when they had died away did she go to her room, telling Meggie that she had the headache and did not wish to be disturbed.

  Spending the day and night alone did nothing to restore Rosamund's spirits, but neither did it weaken her resolve to leave the marquis. She made her way to the breakfast table the following morning prepared for arguments, and was disappointed when Lord Ullenwood greeted her with civil politeness. She sat down and allowed the footman to pour her a cup of scalding coffee, aware of a numbness within. She told herself such gloom was foolish: she had never been on terms of intimacy with her husband, so why should his polite, distant demeanour seem so painful now? She realised with a little start of surprise that it was the absence of hope that was so depressing.

  'What say you to a day in the country, my dear?'

  Rosamund looked up, surprised.

  The marquis continued, 'I would like to visit Chateau Ullenwood while we are here.'

  'But your agent and the lawyers have confirmed there is no possibility of you being able to claim it,' said Rosamund carefully. 'Are you sure it is wise to go back, will it not make you feel the loss even more, if you see it again?'

  'Perhaps, but it may also help me to lay old ghosts. I would also like to find our old steward, if he lives. I would like him to know we have not forgotten him. So what do you say, Ros? It is not more than a couple of hours' drive from Paris, and after Bonaparte's outburst yesterday I think it would be best to keep out of the way for a few days.'

  'He lost his temper?' she said, diverted. 'Oh, how I wish I had been there!'

  He laughed. 'I thought you were determined to have nothing to do with this regime?'

  'I am, of course, but I am still curious. Will you tell me what happened?'

  'Very well, if you wish it. There was the usual crowd, the Russian and Spanish Ambassadors, officials and toadies, and at the centre, the First Consul himself, preening and accepting the fulsome compliments that he expects. Then Whitworth came in and Boney went striding up to him and accused him of being bent on war. He ranted for some time, told the assembly that we do not keep our word.' The marquis scowled. 'By God, Ros, at that point, I wanted to smash my fist into the little monster's face, but Whitworth took it all calmly.'

  'He is our Ambassador, it is his duty to do so, my lord.'

  'Aye, so it is, but I do not know how he refrained from drawing his sword when Boney was shouting and waving his stick at him, like a madman. Finally, he stormed out, shouting that it is up to the English – the English! – to respect treaties. A fine display of hypocrisy from a man who has used the Peace only for his own ends.'

  In the silence that followed, Rosamund watched her husband as he frowned at his cup, caught up in his own thoughts. At length, however, he glanced up, the dark look disappeared and he smiled at her. 'So, my dear, I am minded to drive out of Paris, to see if the air is any cleaner away from the city. What do you say?'

  Rosamund wondered if the invitation was an olive branch. She nodded.

  'I will come with you my lord, and gladly. Only give me a few minutes to change my dress.'

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Bright sunshine accompanied Lord and Lady Ullenwood as they drove out of Paris and followed the road towards Chartres.

  'Does Wilson know the way, sir?' asked Rosamund as they bowled along.

  'I have given him directions. I am informed the house and lands have been split up and sold off. Chateau Ullenwood will have a new name.'

  The journey was accomplished without mishap, and when they stopped to change horses the innkeeper was very desirous that the English milor' and his lady should step inside to take refreshment.

  'Meggie had remarked upon it, and I have to agree I am surprised that everyone we meet is so friendly and obliging,' murmured Rosamund as they drove away from the inn, their host smiling and bowing until they were out of sight.

  'And so they are: only too willing to take our money.'

  'You are too cynical, my lord.'

  'And you are too trusting, my lady.'

  She smiled, but refused to argue the matter and settled down instead to enjoy the drive. Just south of Rambouillet they turned off the main road on to a dirt track that went on for so long the marquis called upon the coachman to stop in order that he could ask directions from an old woman driving geese in the opposite direction. Soon they were on their way again.

  'This looks promising,' muttered the marquis when the road began to skirt a high stone wall. 'Yes. Here we are.'

  Rosamund saw a pair of stone gateposts ahead of them, each topped with a large stone bird, wings spread, and an enormous, out of proportion beak.

  'Are they meant to be rooks?' she asked, lips quivering with laughter.

  'Of course. Madam, it is uncivil of you to mock my heritage.'

  'I am sorry. Perhaps French rooks are different.'

  He laughed.

  'No, you are right. They are dreadfully done.'

  The gates were thrown wide, but as the coach turned into the drive it could be seen that they had not been moved for some time, for they were overgrown with grass and brambles. The coachman slowed his team and did his best to avoid the worst of the large holes. Rosamund had no desire to laugh now, and a quick glance at her companion showed that his face was unusually grim. The house, when it came into view, made her gasp.

  It had once been a fine country mansion, three storeys high and fronted by a wide stone terrace, but one half of the house had been gutted by fire and stood blackened and forlorn, while the other half was in a poor state of repair, with tiles missing from the high roof, shutters hanging off the windows and the wide, shallow steps leading to the house overgrown with weeds. The coach drew up, and the marquis jumped out. He surveyed the house, making no move to help Rosamund to alight. She climbed down and came to stand beside him. Unable to think of anything to say, she tucked her hand in his arm as a token of her support. He put his hand up to cover her fingers.

  'I thought your grandfather's house was in a poor state of repair, but it was nothing compared to this. By God, I think they are using the burned-out section as a cattle shed.'

  A burly man in culottes and a leather jerkin appeared around the side of the house and stopped at the sight of them, resting his fists on his hips.

  'And who might you be?'

  His French was rough, but Rosamund had no difficulty in understanding him, nor his threatening posture. Elliot answered him in his own tongue.

  'I was looking for a family that used to reside here. Name of Volages.'

  The man spat on the ground.

  'They left, years ago, when this place was returned to the people. It's mine now.'

  His tone implied that he did not welcome visitors.

  'Do you have any idea where I might find Monsieur Volages?' asked the marquis.

  The man spat again. Elliot reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin.

  'Perhaps this will help you remember.'

  He tossed the coin towards the man who caught it deftly, looked at it, and nodded.

  'Aye. He has a house in Maintenon.'

  'Thank you. We will try there.'

  A cow ambled out from the blackened arch where massive double doors had once opened on to a grand hallway. Elliot's mouth tightened with disgust and he turned to hand Rosamund back into the coach. He barked an order at his coachman and jumped in beside her as they set off back along the rutted drive.

  'Is it far to Maintenon, sir? My lord?'

  'What? Oh.' He shrugged. 'No. Not far.'

  He sank into the corner of the carriage, gazing out of the window.

  'It must be very distressing to see your property so degraded,' she observed. 'It was a very
fine house.'

  'Aye, it was. I should be thankful it is a farm now. It would be insupportable to see one of the little tyrant's sycophants in residence. We will go to Maintenon and find Volages. He was a loyal servant, I would see that he has sufficient money. Then we will go back to Paris, pack up and leave for England. I have had enough of this country.'

  They reached the town without mishap, but it took a little time to track down Monsieur Volages, who was living with his married daughter. When he realised who had come to see him he fell on his knees before the marquis, overcome by the occasion.

  'Ah, milor' we live in dark times!' he cried. 'For many years we kept the chateau in good repair for you, living quietly, trying not to attract attention. I was hopeful that I would be able to hold it for you until we were at peace again, but alas it was not to be. Three years ago, the soldiers came, milor', we were turned out. It broke my wife's heart: we came here to live with Suzanne, but my wife, she never recovered. She took such pride in the chateau.'

  'I am sure you did all you could, Sebastian.' The marquis spoke quietly, taking the old man by the arm and raising him up.

  Rosamund moved away, allowing Lord Ullenwood and his former servant to talk privately. That the old man was very affected by his former master's visit was plain, and nothing would do for him but that milor' and his lady should come inside and meet his daughter, and they should all take a glass of wine together. Consequently, the sun was setting by the time Lord and Lady Ullenwood left Maintenon. The marquis conferred quickly with John Wilson and as they drove out of the town he explained to Rosamund that they would have to put up at an inn for the night.

  'With no moon it would be foolish to attempt the journey back to Paris. John remembers that we passed a respectable-looking hostelry on the way here, the Coq d'Or. Yes, there it is. I trust you will not be too disappointed.'

  'No, my lord, I am thankful that we do not travel further tonight. The journey has tired me more than I expected.'

  Rosamund allowed him to hand her down into the yard, where the red-cheeked landlord, with much bowing, begged them to enter his humble property. Rooms were prepared, a chambermaid appointed to wait upon milady and a substantial supper laid out for them. Rosamund was very tired, but she tried to eat a little, if only to keep her husband company.

  Lord Ullenwood appeared distracted and she guessed he was thinking of the ruined Chateau Ullenwood and the people who had lived on the estates, all driven from the land. She ached to take his arm and share his sorrow, but she did not have the right. Her hesitant questions were met with short, curt answers. The marquis could not, or would not confide in her. Disappointed, Rosamund bade him goodnight and retired to her lonely bed.

  A sunny morning did much to restore Rosamund's spirits and she went down to the private parlour set aside for them, determined to be cheerful. She found her husband breaking his fast with a large plate of ham and long, crisp bread rolls that he was washing down with hot coffee and boiled milk.

  'Good morning my lord, I trust you slept well? My bed did not look at all promising, but was surprisingly comfortable. In fact, I think I should have overslept this morning if it had not been for the gooseherd bringing her flock past my window at the crack of dawn.'

  'You heard that too?' He came around the table to hold her chair for her. 'Country ways, my dear. At Leverhill my father always deplored the proximity of the Home Farm to the Hall. If you lived there you would soon grow accustomed to the noise.'

  'I am sure I should.' She suppressed an urge to say that since they had agreed to end their marriage, there would be no opportunity for her to visit Wiltshire. The thought gave her no pleasure. 'How soon will we be able to leave Paris and return to England?'

  'When we get back today I will begin preparations for our journey. Poor Ros, are you so eager to quit France?'

  'On the contrary my lord. I have not yet had the opportunity to buy the dashy dress that Arabella so desires.'

  'Ah.' He nodded. 'An important matter, I see. Well, I do not wish to delay our departure from Paris, but we shall be back in the capital soon after noon today. If John can find you fresh horses and you are not too tired, you may sally forth to find a gown for my cousin.'

  'Do you think I can complete the operation in a few short hours?' she asked him, her eyes wide. 'Bella will expect me to agonise over the decision for at least a week.'

  He met her eyes with a smile in his own.

  'From all I have learned about you, Ros, I do not think you will do that.'

  'Oh, is that not how all females are expected to behave?

  'Not you. I think you are a woman of quite superior sense.'

  Rosamund's cheeks grew warm.

  'Y-you do?' she stammered.

  'Yes. In fact…'

  Rosamund held her breath, hopeful anticipation growing in her breast, but whatever words the marquis had been about to utter were lost. There were sounds of raised voices outside the door, and the next moment Rosamund's maid burst into the room.

  'Oh madam, thank heaven we have found you!'

  Startled, Rosamund jumped up.

  'Meggie! Heaven and earth, what is wrong?'

  Instead of answering the maid threw herself into her mistress's arms and sobbed loudly.

  'Thankfully Davis is here also,' remarked the marquis. 'Perhaps he will enlighten us.'

  The valet gave a slight bow. He was pale but appeared perfectly composed. He dismissed the curious servant and shut the door carefully.

  'Come and warm yourself by the fire, man,' Lord Ullenwood ordered him. 'You must have been travelling half the night to be here so early.'

  'Yes sir. We were up before dawn.'

  Rosamund resumed her seat and drew Meggie down on to a chair beside her.

  'Then pray tell us what has prompted such action,' she said.

  Davis nodded.

  'Of course, ma'am. Last evening, Lord Whitworth himself called at the house. Upon learning that you had not yet returned he asked to speak to me. He said he had come to advise that you should pack up and leave the city immediately.'

  'Indeed,' said the marquis. 'Did he give a reason?'

  'Aye, sir, eventually,' replied the valet, with a ghost of a smile. 'I doubt he considered it necessary for me to know why he should be advising you thus, but I explained to him that you had gone out of Paris, and as I did not expect you to return until the morning I would pack up and follow you out of the city. When he heard that, Lord Whitworth decided to, er, open the budget. Thank you my lord.' Davis paused as the marquis handed him cup of coffee, and he drank a little before continuing. 'The Ambassador says someone has laid information against you, my lord. It is alleged that you arrived here carrying messages harmful to France. Orders have been issued to arrest you and my lady.'

  'Oh good heavens!' murmured Rosamund, her hand going to her cheek.

  'Aye ma'am, we was that afraid, I can tell you,' added Meggie, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. 'We began to pack up immediately, ready to leave the city before the soldiers came.'

  'We left as soon as it was light, my lord,' explained Davis. 'I told the hired postilions that Lord Whitworth had brought word from Lady Padiham in England, ordering your immediate return. I hoped it would allay their suspicions.'

  'A good thought, Davis. Well done.'

  The valet drew a folded sheet from his pocket.

  'Lord Whitworth also instructed me to give this to you.'

  The marquis opened the paper and perused it in silence.

  'You have read this?' he said, directing a searching look at Davis.

  'No, my lord.'

  'Good.'

  Lord Ullenwood carried the paper to the fire and pushed it between the logs. Almost immediately the flames leapt around it. Rosamund watched him, frowning.

  'Is it bad news, my lord?' she said.

  'It is better that no one but myself knows what was written in that note.' He returned. 'You could be accused of spying.'

  Three pairs of eyes were fixed o
n him, but he did not elaborate.

  'Come,' he said, 'we must make haste to be away.'

  Davis held up his hand.

  'One more thing, my lord. The Ambassador said the northern ports are being watched. And we cannot turn off the postilions: if they return to Paris they could give evidence of our direction.'

  'True. We had best go south and west to the coast. Come,' he held his hand out to Rosamund. 'We must make haste to depart now. Davis, pray make it known here that we have been summoned back to England. It will account for our haste.'

  It was a tense hour before they left the inn. Rosamund feared that at any moment the shout would go up, and they would be detained, but at last their carriage rolled out onto the road with Davis and Meggie following behind in the baggage coach.

  Rosamund stole a glance at the marquis, who was staring out of the window, a slight frown on his brow.

  'Who do you think laid information against us, my lord?'

  'I cannot be sure, but I think it might be Barbara Lythmore.'

  'I think that too,' she replied. 'If you will permit me to speak plainly, I think she wanted you for herself.'

  The marquis shrugged.

  'Since we are speaking plainly, then let me apologise to you, my dear. It was remiss of me not to settle with her before I married you.'

  'It would have been courteous to inform her of the event,' agreed Rosamund.

  'I know. It was arrogant of me not to do so, but I thought she understood our situation: I made it very plain that I would never marry her.'

  'Perhaps she hoped to change your mind.'

  'She told me she did not want marriage.'

  'Of course she said that: it was what you wanted to hear.' Rosamund retorted. 'Really, men can be so blind at times. I have no doubt she expected her reluctance to excite your interest.'

  'Is that why you held me off, to increase my desire?' he asked her.

  Her chin went up.

  'You have never desired me,' she flashed. 'Ours was a marriage of convenience. Your words, my lord, if you recall.'