Married: The Virgin Widow (15 page)

“Lord and Lady Kingsfold.” He made a slight bow to each of them. “To what does Bramberley owe the honour of your visit?”

His cold expression told Laura he considered their call anything but an honour.

“We came to speak with you about your niece,” said Ford. “In particular, her acquaintance with Mr Julian Northmore.”

“There is nothing to discuss on that subject.” Lord Henry’s bushy grey brows drew together. “Have you not made enough trouble introducing that young scoundrel into a respectable neighbourhood?”

Ford’s jaw tightened. “Mr Northmore’s behaviour is no worse than many others of his age and income. Would you call him a scoundrel if he had a title to excuse his indiscretions?”

“I bow to your superior knowledge of debauchery, Kingsfold,” Lord Henry growled. “I would call any man a scoundrel who trifles with the affections of a respectable girl and encourages her to flout the wishes of her family.”

Though Ford kept a calm demeanour, Laura knew him well enough to sense his temper rising. She did not want to see an irreparable breach between Hawkesbourne and Bramberley. Casting him a look that begged him to hold his tongue for a moment, she appealed to Lord Henry as a fond uncle.

“Are you certain Mr Northmore means to trifle with Lady Daphne’s affections? What if his intentions are honourable? Surely your family would not wish to stand in the way of two young people who love one another?”

“Love?” Lord Henry spoke the word as if it were a bad jest. “How can you give such a name to this shallow infatuation? Once it has spent itself, what have they to look forward to but a lifetime of recrimination and regret?”

Laura flinched from Lord Henry’s bitter words. It did not make her think of Daphne Dearing and Julian Northmore, but rather of her and Ford. Was the combustible passion between them doomed to soon burn itself out, leaving only bitter ashes?

“Perhaps if you would permit them to become better acquainted,” Laura tried to reason with him, “they might develop deeper feelings for one another. Your niece is much like my youngest sister in temperament. If she is thwarted, I fear she might do something rash. I know you want what is best for her, but if you truly care about her happiness—”

“I will thank you not to lecture me on my responsibilities to my niece!” Lord Henry’s craggy features took on an expression Laura had not seen since the last time Cyrus struck her.

“Well, someone needs to!” Ford took a protective
step between Laura and Lord Henry. “My wife is only interested in the young lady’s welfare.”

“Your wife is the last woman from whom I would expect a lecture on the desirability of a love match.” Lord Henry’s scathing tone made Laura feel as if her skin were crawling with vermin. “She first secured her comfort by wedding a man for whom she obviously cared nothing. When his death threatened that comfort, she immediately betrothed herself to the new master of the estate, despite her evident distaste.”

Laura had long known her neighbours’ harsh opinion of her. But to have it hurled in her face, in Ford’s presence, was a sickening humiliation. Especially since there was some truth in it. She
had
married Cyrus and accepted Ford’s proposal for material considerations rather than love.

Immediately Ford rose to her defence. “My wife’s reasons for marrying my cousin are no concern of yours, Lord Henry. Perhaps it is
because
circumstances forced her to wed him that she is anxious your niece is permitted to follow her heart. As for our marriage, she did not pursue me. I persuaded her. If anyone offers an opinion on the subject in future, I trust you will enlighten their uncharitable ignorance.”

He offered Laura his arm. “Come, my dear. We have outstayed our welcome, such as it was. If her family are determined to place their superiority above Lady Daphne’s happiness, there is little we can do to assist her.”

“Go, by all means!” Lord Henry thundered.

Ford shut the door hard, then ushered Laura toward the gig, his arm around her shoulder. “I don’t care who
his ancestors were. He is no gentleman to insult a lady so. If he were a few years younger, I’d call him out.”

Though touched by Ford’s indignant defence, Laura could not calm her churning stomach. Just as they reached the gig, the soft rustle of footsteps made her turn to see Lady Artemis hurrying toward them. Her faded olive-green dress and the shadows under her eyes made her look paler than ever.

“Lord and Lady Kingsfold, please forgive Uncle Henry’s outburst. I know he can be difficult to reason with at times. You must understand, we Dearings have always preferred to keep family matters private.”

Ford helped Laura into the gig. “Then perhaps
you
should speak to him on your sister’s behalf.”

The lady’s fine, dark brows drew together. “You mistake me, sir. Though I regret my uncle’s ill-chosen words, I do not disagree with him regarding my sister and that Northmore man. I wish you had never invited him to Hawkesbourne.”

Behind those proud words, Laura sensed the lady’s sincere concern for her impulsive little sister. Would she feel any different if Susannah imagined herself in love with a man who appeared entirely unsuitable?

“I am sorry you feel that way, Lady Artemis.” Ford climbed into the gig beside Laura. “In that case, I fear nothing remains to be said. Good day to you.”

He jogged the reins and guided the horse in a wide circle to drive back out through the gatehouse. The sun seemed brighter and the air fresher once they were away from the perpetual November of that gloomy old mansion.

“Do you think Lord Henry has a point?” Laura ventured once the tightness in her throat had eased.

“What point might that be?” A dark scowl still gripped Ford’s chiselled features. “That I am an expert in debauchery or that we invited young Northmore to Hawkesbourne with the express purpose of disgracing the Dearings?”

“That we should not meddle in their affairs. I am sorry I urged you to it. I think that I would feel the same as they do if Lady Artemis called at Hawkesbourne to tell me I have not looked after Mama properly or that I should not have let Belinda marry Sidney.”

Ford shook his head. “You might resent the intrusion, but you would hear her out at least. And you would not reject her criticism out of hand. If, after considering what she had to say, you recognised some merit in her suggestions, you would act upon them.”

“You have a far better opinion of me than I have of myself.” His tribute to her character touched Laura more than any praise of her looks. They would fade with time, as would his admiration of them. The other would last. “What makes you so certain I would behave in such an exemplary manner?”

“Because I have observed you in just such a situation. Remember when I first returned to Hawkesbourne and made all sorts of changes to your mother’s care?”

Laura squirmed. “As I recall, I raged at you and said you had no right to meddle. But you gave me no choice.”

“All the more reason your later change of heart was so gracious.” Ford’s scowl softened. “For all my good intentions, I
did
overstep my bounds. I should have consulted you first. I know it is far too late in coming, but I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

She forgive him? Laura sensed how difficult that was
for him to ask. “Of course! But as I told you then, you were right about Mama. I should not have berated you and questioned your motives. I was afraid you’d become just like Cyrus, making arbitrary decisions to control and frustrate me out of spite.”

Ford’s hands tightened on the reins.

Immediately Laura repented her hurtful comparison. “Forgive me! I did not mean that the way it sounded. I was wrong. You are nothing like Cyrus.”

Ford stared at the road ahead as if driving required his complete concentration. “I have discovered I am far too much like my cousin. My actions with regard to your mother were kindly meant. Others were not. I assumed you must have led Cyrus around by the nose the way Helena did to my father. As a consequence, I was determined to prove I would be master in my own house.”

“You thought I…?” How could Ford have believed such things of her, so entirely contrary to the truth, when he’d once claimed to love her?

What had she believed of him, though? That he’d callously abandoned her. That his arduous exile to distant shores had been a carefree adventure. Those had been no nearer the truth than his assumptions about her.

She swallowed her reproaches. “Do not forget, even before you learned the truth about my marriage to Cyrus, you heeded my objections and changed your ways. Today you defended me to Lord Henry. That meant more to me than you can ever know.”

“Were the rest of the neighbours like that?” Ford jerked his head in the direction of Bramberley. “All but calling you a fortune hunter to your face?”

His indignation on her behalf eased the sickening humiliation
of Lord Henry’s attack. “This is the first time I have heard it put into words. But I knew such things were being whispered behind my back. Cyrus did nothing to dispel the gossip. Your tenants and servants were less quick to judge me. Among our neighbours of
quality
, only Lady Daphne and Sidney Crawford showed my family any friendship. Lady Artemis was never uncivil, but I do not think she makes friends easily outside her family circle.”

“What you have had to bear all this time!” Pity and indignation mingled in Ford’s voice. “If it were in my power to alter the past, I would change yours.”

They were now within sight of Hawkesbourne. Laura gazed toward it, struggling to put some of her feelings into words. “We cannot alter the past and we cannot forget it, when we still bear the scars.”

“What
can
we do, then?” Ford glanced toward her.

The mask behind which he often hid his true feelings had slipped. Or perhaps he’d deliberately lowered it. Not that it mattered, for what she glimpsed was too confused for her to fathom. Heavy, dark clouds of regret whipped by a tempest of anger and pierced by searing bolts of fear. Was there also a faint, fragile rainbow of hope?

“Perhaps what we are doing now,” said Laura. “Trying to see the past through each other’s eyes. Owning the mistakes we have made instead of defending our own actions so fiercely. Being willing to share the blame for what happened, rather than holding the other responsible.”

With so many unhealed wounds, none of that could be accomplished quickly or easily. They would both have to want it very much and she was not certain Ford did.

Before he could answer, they drove into the stable yard of Hawkesbourne.

Susannah came racing to meet them, as was her habit. Parted from Belinda and forbidden to visit Lady Daphne, she had been at loose ends of late. Laura resolved to pay more attention to her sister.

But as Susannah drew closer, Laura could tell something far worse than tedium ailed her. Her pretty features were crumpled, making her look many years younger, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Ford must have noticed too, for he reined the horses in hard.

Jumping out of the gig, Laura ran to her sister. “Sukie, what’s wrong? Not Binny and Sidney, is it?”

Susannah shook her head violently and choked out an explanation between sobs. “It’s…Mama. I went to…sit with her after her…nap. But she wouldn’t wake up. She’s gone…D-dead!”

“That can’t be.” As ill as Mama had been for so long, Laura found herself unprepared to grasp her sister’s fateful news. “She’s been so much better lately. Has anyone gone to fetch the doctor?”

Susannah shook her head again. “I just f-found her. Not ten minutes ago.”

“I’ll go,” called Ford, snapping the reins of the gig against the horse’s rumps. “Perhaps it is not too late.”

Hard as Laura found it to accept the news and much as she longed to seize the scrap of hope Ford offered, deep down she knew there was no need for him to rush after medical help.

After several minutes working over Mrs Penrose, feeling for a pulse and holding a small mirror beneath her nose to check for breath, the doctor looked up at Ford, Laura and Susannah, who clustered at the foot of the bed. “She’s gone, I’m afraid. I am certain it would not have mattered if I’d been at her bedside the instant she expired. There was nothing to be done. If it is any comfort, I can assure you she passed away quite peacefully. Her features are in perfect repose.”

Though Ford had witnessed death many times and had not truly believed there was any hope, the finality of it struck him harder than he expected. The same appeared true of Susannah, who had been weeping softly since the doctor arrived, but now burst into fresh sobs. While Laura tried to comfort her sister, Ford thanked the doctor for his assistance.

“We must send for Binny,” said Laura once the doctor had departed and Susannah grown calmer. “Poor dear, to get such news on her honeymoon.”

She had not shed a tear, though grief ached in her calm, dry eyes. Ford wished he could console her, but he doubted it was within his power. Still, there were practical services he could render.

“I will go to Brighton at once.”

“Would you? That would ease my mind a great deal.” Laura’s look of gratitude almost unmanned Ford, unworthy as he felt of it at that moment.

His face must have betrayed some of that feeling, for when he strode from the room, Laura left her sister to hurry after him.

“Ford?” She caught him by the hand. “What is wrong? I know…Mama, but there is something more, isn’t there?”

She had just lost her mother, yet she was concerned for
his
feelings? Did she not blame him as he blamed himself?

“This is my fault.” Her quiet sympathy wrenched the words out of him. “Perhaps if I’d left well enough alone instead of taxing her strength with outings and such.”

Laura tightened her grip on his hand. “Put that thought from your mind at once. If you had not helped Mama get stronger, she never would have been able to attend our ball or Binny’s wedding. These past months were her happiest in many years, and that was thanks to you.”

Bobbing up on her toes, she pressed her lips to his in a gesture of tender affection and reliance. With a jolt, Ford realised it was the first time she had initiated a kiss between them.

That kiss warmed his lips and heartened his spirit all the way to Brighton. Somehow it sustained him when he had to break the news of her mother’s death to Belinda.

“Oh, dear,” she whispered, clinging to her husband’s
hand. “I knew something awful must have happened the moment I saw you, Ford. Poor Mama! Attending our wedding must have been too much for her. I should not have been so selfish—”

“Nonsense.” Ford knelt before her. “She enjoyed every minute of your wedding and did not appear any the worse for it. You must not reproach yourself.”

“P-perhaps not on that account.” Tears glided down Belinda’s cheeks. “But we should not have come away to Brighton. I might have been with her at…the end.”

Ford shook his head. “We were only five miles away and Susannah was there in the house. Yet neither she nor Laura was present when your mother died. I believe that was what she wanted—to slip away quietly.”

With a glance, he appealed to his brother-in-law for assistance.

Sidney seemed to understand. “Lord Kingsfold is right, dearest. Even if we’d been at Lyndhurst, or visiting at Hawkesbourne, it would have changed nothing. Besides, your mother would never have allowed us to miss our wedding tour on her account.”

Sniffling, Belinda looked from her husband to Ford with a soft, sad smile. “When the two of you join forces, you are very persuasive.”

Her words warmed Ford’s heart. In recent happy days, he had begun to feel like part of the family. But it was in times of trouble that the bonds of kindred strengthened and new ones might be forged.

“That’s the spirit.” He rose to his feet again. “Remember, your sisters need you. They both depend on you more than you may realise. Your mother would have wanted the three of you to look after each other.”

He addressed himself to Sidney. “My carriage is waiting with fresh horses to take you to Hawkesbourne. I will stay long enough to collect your belongings and take care of any matters that might delay your departure.”

Sidney helped his wife up from her seat, then offered his hand to Ford. “Thank you for all you have done, Lord Kingsfold. We are much obliged to you.”

Ford shook his head even as he took the younger man’s hand. “There is no obligation between family. And since we
are
family now, perhaps we could dispense with formalities if you are willing…Sidney.”

“Indeed I am, Ford.”

The Crawfords departed at once.

Ford followed a few hours later, so it was long past midnight by the time he reached Hawkesbourne. He went at once to Mrs Penrose’s chamber, assuming Laura and her sisters must be sitting up with the body. Instead he found Pryce performing that service. By tradition, the blinds were drawn, the mirrors covered with black crape and the clock stopped.

“Pryce, what are you doing here? Where are the ladies?”

“Gone to bed, sir, at Mr Crawford’s insistence.” Pryce scrambled up from his chair as if he had been caught doing something mildly scandalous. “I offered to sit up in their stead. The Crawfords elected to stay the night. I put them in the blue room.”

Ford nodded his approval of the arrangements. “Very sensible to allow the ladies their rest. I shall invite the Crawfords to remain at Hawkesbourne until after the
funeral. My wife and her sisters need to be together at a time like this.”

He glanced toward the tiny, lifeless form of his mother-in-law, properly laid out with her hands crossed over her breast. She looked as patient and serene in death as she had in life.

“Mrs Penrose was a fine lady and the most affectionate of mothers,” he mused aloud. “Her going will leave an empty place in this house.”

And in his heart. From the moment he’d returned to Hawkesbourne, Laura’s mother had made him feel sincerely welcome. She had been overjoyed by his betrothal to her daughter, unshakeably certain that his love for Laura had endured the devastation of the past. Had that belief been wishful
naïveté
or insightful wisdom?

“So it will, my lord,” replied the butler in a hoarse murmur, his head bowed.

The flickering candlelight glinted on a teardrop that clung to Pryce’s craggy cheek. Was there more to his feelings for Mrs Penrose than the devotion of servant to mistress? Not for the first time in recent days, Ford reflected upon the strange, ungovernable force that was love.

Not wishing to trespass on the privacy of Pryce’s grief any longer, Ford thanked him for putting the house in mourning and for volunteering to keep the first night’s vigil. On the way to his own room, he paused by Laura’s door, listening for any sign that she might be awake. But all was as silent as if she were dead, too.

That thought chilled Ford to the quick.

He longed to steal in and assure himself that all was
well with her. But he could not bear to disturb her much-needed sleep or, worse yet, risk giving her a fright. So, reluctantly, he continued on to his bedchamber.

Upon entering, he heard something stirring in his bed. His weary mind harked back to the time in India when he’d found a scorpion on his pillow. But when he raised his candle, its light flickered upon a tousle of long golden hair. Recalling what disagreeable associations this room held for Laura, he was moved to find her here awaiting his return.

He snuffed the candle and shed his clothes quietly in the darkness. Then he slid between the sheets with furtive movements, anxious not to wake her.

But no sooner had he settled himself than Laura edged toward him, warm and soft in the darkness. “I thought you might not return home until morning.”

“Would you rather I had waited?”

“Of course not!” She burrowed even closer to him, seeking the sanctuary of his arms. “I have been longing for you.”

Laura’s need for him penetrated dangerously deep into Ford’s heart, but he did not care. He gathered her into his embrace and held her tenderly as she began to weep. Pressing his lips into her hair, he crooned comforting endearments. Not even in the rapturous throes of passion or the lazy bliss after lovemaking had he felt so close and indispensable to her.

Gradually her sobs eased and she grew calm again. At last she confided in a husky murmur, “I hadn’t shed a tear until now. I couldn’t, even when Sukie and Binny were weeping their eyes out. I cannot tell you how much better I feel for letting my feelings out at last.”

Ford’s throat grew tight. He did not dare attempt to speak.

Laura spared him the necessity. “You asked me once about my father’s death and I refused to tell you. Since then I have wanted to, but I could not while my mother lived.”

He’d sensed she was hiding something and it had fuelled his wariness even when he began to wish he could trust her. Why had he never considered she might have an innocent reason for keeping her secret?

“Now that Mama is gone,” Laura continued, “I am free to tell you and I cannot keep it to myself a moment longer. I am not proud of what I did, but I felt I had no other choice at the time. I hope you will not judge me too harshly.”

Was that another reason she’d kept this secret from him, because she feared he would condemn her? Yet now she could trust him with the truth. Ford tried to reassure her by brushing a soft kiss upon her brow. He could not think of any words that would be adequate to the task.

Laura took a deep breath and her body tensed, as if she were preparing to plunge into cold, dangerous waters. “I must go back a bit first, so you will understand and not think badly of poor Papa. You see, a few years after Susannah was born, my mother suffered a stillbirth and was very ill afterward. The doctors warned Papa that any attempt to bear another child would surely kill her.”

Laura paused to swallow several times. “That left only we three girls, who could not inherit his small estate. That was why he took up the practice of architecture, to earn extra money for our dowries.”

“I remember,” said Ford. “We first met when your
father was designing that garden temple and Cyrus invited your family to visit Hawkesbourne. I counted it a brilliant stroke of luck that I was here at the time.”

He’d been trying to dun his cousin for money to pay off his gambling debts, Ford recalled to his shame. Laura Penrose had seemed to embody every wholesome virtue he craved. She’d made him want to mend his profligate ways and do something useful with his life.

“A brilliant stroke of luck?” Laura sighed. “I know you’ve had reason to think otherwise many times since then. I hope what I have to tell you will not make this one of them.”

Though he yearned to assure her that was impossible, Ford could not. Would the secret she was about to reveal destroy the fragile happiness they’d begun to reclaim? Perhaps he should silence her with a kiss and remain in blissful ignorance. Not for the first time, he reminded himself that what he didn’t know
could
harm him.

Perhaps Laura sensed his feelings, for when she spoke again she sounded more troubled than before. “Though he worked hard, Papa did not have a head for business. Cyrus advised him that an architect could make more money by providing workmen and materials to construct the buildings he designed. Since that required capital, which Papa did not have, Cyrus helped him find an investor.”

Had his cousin been trying to insinuate himself with Laura even then? Ford wondered. After everything Cyrus had done for her family, it was no wonder she had turned to him for help. “The last time I saw your father, his business prospects were looking up. He had a commission for some nabob’s country house.”

“The client was in a great hurry,” replied Laura in a tremulous whisper. “So Papa purchased stone and marble and fine wood. He engaged labourers. But when it came time to sign the contracts, the man changed his mind. Papa’s investor heard of it and demanded his money back. My family knew nothing of all this at the time, though Mama was worried that my father did not seem himself and spent all hours at his office.”

Ford had some inkling of the pressure Mr Penrose must have been under. He had experienced the anxiety of creditors clambering for money he did not have. How much worse must it have been with vast sums at stake and the future of a beloved family threatened?

“One evening Papa did not come home for dinner so Mama sent me to fetch him. I f-found him in his office…hanging from a beam. Sometimes, in my nightmares, I can still see his face.”

The instant he heard the word
hanging
, the bottom seemed to drop out of Ford’s stomach. Until then, he’d expected Laura to tell him of the fire Belinda claimed had killed their father. Bad as that would have been, the truth was a thousand times worse for the family Mr Penrose had left behind.

“My poor darling!” He held Laura tighter, offering comfort that was seven years too late in coming. “I would give anything to have spared you that sight.”

“There’s more.”

More than finding her father dead by his own hand?

“I couldn’t let him be found like that. I couldn’t! Do you know what becomes of suicides? It would have killed my mother to see Papa buried by a crossroads with a stake through his heart, as if he were some
wicked monster rather than a good man driven to despair. The disgrace would have ruined my family. And how would we have begun to pay his debts with all Papa’s possessions forfeit to the Crown?”

It was a wonder the shock and strain had not driven Laura mad. “What did you do?”

“I knew I must go home before Mama sent someone after
me
. I don’t know how I kept from breaking down. I suppose part of me refused to believe what was happening. I decided to say Papa had to work late again. After the others went to bed, I planned to steal out of the house and go find you. I was too dazed to think how I would get all the way from Newington to Piccadilly on my own, at night, with no money. I only knew I must try. I had this absurd belief you would be able to make everything all right.”