An unsuitable alliance, p.29
An Unsuitable Alliance, page 29
Two hours later dawn was breaking and the letters of recommendation Tristan had written on James’s behalf were on their way to the docks. Tristan trusted they’d reach his former friend before the packet departed. Now all that remained was for him to acquaint Mrs Henley with matters. He’d hoped for a few hours to digest all that had happened, but as he was leaving his study he was confronted by Adelaide’s mother in the passage, a shawl over her nightgown, her small eyes assessing him beneath her night cap.
‘Where is Adelaide?’
He might have said she’d gone to bed, but Mrs Henley seemed to sense something was wrong. ‘With James,’ he replied. He was in no mood to pander to anyone right now. ‘She’s gone with James to France. I shall make arrangements as to how we proceed once I hear back from them. A great deal has happened tonight.’
‘It would seem,’ she said dryly. She watched him rearrange some papers on his desk while he tried to ignore her. In the lengthening silence, she muttered, ‘Clearly then, you know everything.’ She took a few steps forward and rested her bony frame against the back of the sofa as she regarded him.
He straightened as he prepared to hear what she might have to contribute. She looked much smaller in her night attire, her little black eyes blazing with self-righteousness from her wizened face, her voice a nasal whine.
‘I might have known it would come to this.’ Mrs Henley sniffed. ‘Adelaide was destined to throw her life away, a slave to her wanton impulses. Her mother was an actress, you know.’
Tristan jerked his head up at her words, delivered almost conversationally. Mrs Henley had wrapped her shawl tightly around her and her mouth was a thin line of disapproval. ‘My husband’s whore, though you’re the only one to know it aside from me. You might as well since it explains a great deal.’
Anger welled up inside him as his mind churned with what this might have meant for Adelaide. ‘What does it explain, exactly, Mrs Henley?’ he asked crisply.
‘Her behaviour. Adelaide was always seeking the limelight from the time she came to us as a babe. I did my best to curb her attention-seeking but she was impossible. Tainted by her mother’s blood.’
She brushed past him to seek the warmth of the small fire still glowing in his study, as if she intended to regale him with a litany of Adelaide’s misdemeanours. Tristan followed reluctantly, though part of him wanted to learn more of the wife he did not expect to see again.
Perhaps, instead of dwelling on the pain in his chest and the shock of learning their entire marriage had been a sham, it would be a tonic to turn his attention to his mother-in- law.
‘Clarabelle Mountjoy was Adelaide’s mother’s name and I’d have scratched her eyes out had I got the chance, so for once, Tristan, I believe our feelings are in accord.’
He stared at her. No, their feelings were not in accord, even now, for vengeance would not make him feel better.
He’d often wondered how Adelaide, so vibrant, so beautiful, could have been related to joyless, prune-faced Mrs Henley. If he hadn’t been so astonished he’d probably rejoice. ‘You took in your husband’s child, Mrs Henley?’ he clarified.
She nodded. ‘Mr Henley was about to take up his posting in Vienna when our only child died.’ The first suggestion of real sorrow crossed her features. ‘I knew my husband had a mistress but did not know the child existed until he brought Adelaide home the night we were due to set sail for the Continent. He told me the mother had been killed in an accident and his child had no one. That we would bring it up and pass it off as our own dead Adelaide.’
The hissing fire and the rumble of carriage wheels from the road outside were the only sounds to break the expectant silence.
‘You cannot have embraced such an idea, Mrs Henley.
She shook her head. ‘I loathed the child, but my husband was insistent. Adelaide went away to school as soon as she was old enough. Her father doted on her when she was home, and indulged her wicked excesses, but when Mr Henley died, I was determined to ensure Adelaide’s soul would not go to the devil.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘I was not in the least successful for the moment her schooldays were behind her and she came to live with me she met James.’
Tristan’s mind worked quickly to assimilate this new information. He thought of everything he’d learned tonight about Adelaide and James. So many shocking revelations. Had he been blind to what was right before him? Mrs Henley claimed Adelaide had wished to be an actress yet Mrs Henley was clearly well versed in maintaining a life-long charade, herself. He decided to challenge her. Adelaide was gone and, though it would be too late, it would be some comfort to learn Mrs Henley’s version of the truth.
‘You concocted the lie that Adelaide had been attacked by French soldiers. You needed to give me a reason for why she was so withdrawn when I first met her.’
‘And to excuse her impurity,’ Mrs Henley added. ‘I knew she was damned after what she’d done, but I needed to hide from you the truth of her wickedness. I hoped you would offer her some kind of future. You were clearly not immune to her charms.’ Mrs Henley’s lip curled. ‘But Adelaide was too steeped in sin to make the most of the opportunity you offered her. It was inevitable you’d one day have discovered her true nature, Tristan.’
He rose suddenly. Like a wave breaking he remembered what Adelaide had said about Mrs Henley’s methods for calming her. ‘You insisted Adelaide take laudanum to quell what you saw as dangerous impulses, didn’t you? It was more than medicinal.’
She shrugged as if what she’d done were of no account. ‘You’d have been disgusted if you’d known the passions that corrupted that girl’s wicked nature. I did everything I could to prevent Adelaide revealing what she really was. So I monitored her moods through varying amounts of laudanum. For a long time it worked.’
His brain did some rapid calculations as he dwelled on what she’d left unsaid. ‘But when it stopped working you had to come up with some other method to … control her.’
Mrs Henley smiled. ‘Do you mean the letter?’
He tensed. ‘What letter?’
‘The one I sent to Adelaide just after the political dinner you hosted? Her smile broadened and she chuckled, as if proud. “I know your secret. Stay away.” That frightened her terribly. She wanted nothing to do with anyone and locked herself up in her room for days.’
Tristan recalled those few days, remembering what James and Donegal had said tonight about the threatening letter. Yet again Tristan had seen Adelaide’s withdrawal as symptoms of a weak mind. He’d thought plenty of rest and lack of excitement were the answer at the time.
If he’d only known the truth.
Yet how would he have felt had he known of Adelaide’s past affair? Of her intimacy with James? He ran his hands through his hair, wincing.
Adelaide’s affair had ended before she’d met him. And Tristan had to acknowledge he’d been so in love with her he’d have forgiven her anything just to have her promise to be his bride.
The truth might not have been palatable but if he’d got past that point he’d have also learned the truth of her vibrant nature with time. He’d have managed Adelaide and their marriage so differently. Managed? That’s what Mrs Henley had done.
He cut off the thought.
‘I had not known about the letter, Mrs Henley, though James mentioned it tonight. He was being blackmailed and thought the letter you wrote was from the man blackmailing him: Phineas Donegal. He and Donegal fought over the allegation and Donegal died from his wounds a short while ago.’
She’d hear about it in the news-sheets sooner or later. He breathed deeply then began the litany of events in a toneless voice. ‘I have just come from Donegal’s bedside. Adelaide and Beatrice witnessed the fight after James accused Donegal of writing that letter. The letter you wrote, Mrs Henley. When we carried him to the inn and waited for the doctor, that’s when I learned everything. Everything you’ve spent years trying to hide regarding Adelaide’s affair with James. So I have sent Adelaide away with James, knowing now how much she’d loved him while she’d been coerced to wed me. They’re waiting for the next boat to France. James had no choice but to leave the country, otherwise he would face trial for murder here in England. I couldn’t see that happen when he’d just saved my life.’
Mrs Henley no satisfaction, for after all, that put her in a tenuous position. ‘You know Adelaide does not love James?’
‘That may change when she realises his child, Charlotte, is in fact the child she bore him and which you spirited away, Mrs Henley.’
She sniffed. ‘Adelaide could hardly have claimed Charlotte. But you’re wrong if you think she’ll stay with James when she loves you. I tried to temper Adelaide’s growing feelings for you. I was afraid you would be disgusted by her … enthusiasm.’ She shrugged. ‘Of course, she’s ruined now, and she cannot stain the good name you are only just making as a politician. She’ll just have to make her own way, as I daresay you’ll expect me to make mine. I trust I won’t be left completely destitute.’
‘You were well provided by your late husband.’ He spoke dryly though his thoughts had returned to Adelaide. What was she doing now? How would she manage? Did she really love him? Yet how could she when she had deliberately slept with James; not only her past lover and the father of her child, but her husband’s best friend? Could she have done anything more calculated to extirpate any charitable feeling Tristan might have for her?
A blinding flash of cognisance tore through him. Mrs Henley was already turning but he cut her off at the door. ‘It wasn’t Adelaide who ordered the medications at Mendelssohn’s Apothecary, was it? Laudanum, mostly, but you gave her something different the night she went to Lady Belton’s ball a month ago – didn’t you?’
He recalled the list Kitty had given him. There’d been some latin name at the bottom which meant nothing to him. He waited tensely. Perhaps it was some hallucinogen Mrs Henley had supposed might temper Adelaide’s waywardness but which in fact had exacerbated it. James had said something about Adelaide believing herself in a dream.
He held his breath, waiting. Tristan could forgive her if she’d not been responsible for her actions. And if she did not in fact love James, she would come home to him. To Tristan.
Mrs Henley creased her brow as she recalled. ‘I was at my wits’ end. Adelaide didn’t always drink the soothing concoctions I sent up for her. On the night of the ball she was extremely agitated. She wanted to go out and I was determined she must remain calmly in her bed, especially as you were unable to escort her to the ball. The doctor was unhelpful so I consulted the apothecary. Mr Mendelssohn gave me a different powder to put in Adelaide’s milk that he said would be pleasing to the palate and offer a sedative effect.’
Tristan’s scalp prickled as he waited for the answer he prayed would exonerate Adelaide. For if she had not been responsible for her actions—
‘Adelaide refused to drink it.’ Mrs Henley clicked her tongue. ‘Milly brought back the milk, untouched, saying Adelaide refused to take whatever calming concoction I had decided she needed. I knew, then, that I had lost an important means of curbing her excesses.’ She fixed him with a gimlet eye. ‘And I was right.’
Disappointment knifed him. ‘Please make arrangements to leave in the morning, Mrs Henley.’ He didn’t trust himself to say more.
She looked outraged as she snapped the ends of her paisley shawl. ‘You blame me for Adelaide’s lapse after everything I have done to limit the damage her unstable nature might cause?’
‘Not for Adelaide’s lapse.’ He shook his head, a dull, fearful sensation burning him within. He waved his hand in dismissal as he added, ‘For creating the demons that have plagued her since she left Milan.’
Chapter 31
She had no option but to do as her husband requested.
Leave him.
Leave him to accompany James, though to what purpose, Adelaide did not know.
As the carriage jolted over cobbled streets, then through the ruts of rain-gouged dirt roads, Adelaide remembered her many clandestine meetings with James. They’d ignited her senses and sparked life into her. As a thoughtless seventeen- year-old she could not see past her own gratuitous pleasure, never questioning the pain she’d cause Hortense or the fact that her behaviour would send her to hell.
Her mother had told her so many times she was destined for hell that the threat had lost its ability to cow her.
All that had mattered was James. He was like a drug and Adelaide would have sacrificed anything to have been with him.
How differently she felt now. Tristan had sent her away with James and she felt her life was ending.
A boat would be leaving on the morning’s tide. If Adelaide travelled on it, her fate would be sealed. The whole world would know she’d run away with her husband’s best friend. She could never recover from the scandal.
But could she recover from her broken heart?
‘You shouldn’t have come, Beatrice.’ James sounded surly and ungrateful as he faced them across the small space, the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses’ hooves and the rattle of harness punctuating the tense atmosphere. ‘It’s four o’clock in the morning. You’ll be ruined if we don’t get you home before dawn.’
Beatrice squared her chin. ‘Do you think I’d allow others to seal my fate when I’ve danced at Vauxhall later than this? If I return home what is to become of me, James?’
She seemed to be gaining a little spirit. Adelaide admired her. But what did Beatrice know of the world and did she know enough of the sordid truth to make a considered decision?
James threw up his hands and turned to her angrily. ‘I’ve killed a man, Beatrice. I cannot marry you.’
She did not flinch. ‘Well, I’m not leaving until we’ve had this conversation. Are you running away with Adelaide, then? Because you’ve always loved her? Well, I knew that from the start. I just thought that as you couldn’t be with her you might, over time, form some real affection for me. Just as Adelaide has for Tristan.’
The frightened whinny of a horse pounding towards them spurred Adelaide into a more robust response.
‘Yes, James, Beatrice is right. I love Tristan. I am here in this carriage with you only because Tristan requested it.’ She raised an eyebrow at the single blood stain on his shirt point. ‘Apparently he had grave fears for your health and wellbeing so entrusted me as your nurse. Nonsense, of course! The real reason is that he expects I will succumb to your persuasive charm yet again.’ Before James could reply she turned to Beatrice. ‘As I told you, Beatrice, when the men were upstairs earlier, I love my husband.’
‘Tristan lives by high ideals, Addy.’ James looked hesitantly at Beatrice before he continued with a pointed look at Adelaide’s belly. ‘You cannot go back to him and he will not take you … knowing you carry another man’s child in your womb.’
‘No!’
The pain of Beatrice’s cry lanced Adelaide with guilt, exacerbated by the blazing hatred in the young girl’s eyes. ‘Surely not—’ Beatrice stopped as she battled for breath. ‘You did not tell me everything when the men were upstairs. And all this time you pretended you were my friend.’
Adelaide forced herself to hold her look. It was the least she could do. ‘It was a terrible mistake.’ She wished her voice were stronger. ‘If I could change everything that’s happened since I fell in love with my husband, I would. Instead, I continued the terrible charade my mother imposed upon me which she used to explain my childish love affair with James.’ She placed her hands over her belly, saying firmly, ‘Nevertheless, it is just as likely that it is Tristan’s child.’
James leaned forwards to grip Adelaide’s wrists. ‘Tristan has not fathered a child in two marriages. The coincidence is too great. You are carrying my child, Addy. I know it, you know it and now Tristan knows it. You’d be living yet another lie if you ignored the truth of it.’
Adelaide snatched her hands away. ‘For the first time I’m actually grateful to Kitty Carew since I can confirm that she’s borne Tristan a child.’ She turned to Beatrice. ‘Yes, my husband’s mistress before he met me. A pity I wasn’t allowed similar licence before my marriage. The fact, though, James, is that you cannot use this as a weapon to entice me to go to France with you. Not that I would go in any case. I am merely here to discharge my husband’s wish that I see you safely out of the country. I shall be glad to see you go! And then I shall take Beatrice home, if that’s what she wishes.’
Beatrice drew in a shuddering breath. ‘I shall do whatever James wishes.’
They travelled the rest of the journey in unhappy silence, arriving at the inn to be met by the publican who’d been informed of their arrival by a horseman Tristan had dispatched earlier, together with letters.
Adelaide was nearly crippled by another surge of longing for her husband. How competent he was. He’d thought of everything.
But he would not take her back. She knew that.
In the small private parlour, as they waited for the dawn to break and the tide to turn so that the next packet to France could return, James paced restlessly in front of the fire.
The two women could not sit, either. Adelaide leaned against the back of the sofa and Beatrice stared out of the window.
‘You cannot stay here all night, Beatrice,’ James muttered. ‘I can’t ruin you, too.’
‘You won’t ruin me if you take me with you. There’s nothing for me if I remain in London. I won’t get a respectable offer, now. Adelaide’s told you she’s not accompanying you to France. If she can learn to love Tristan for his quiet calm and strength, you might do the same.’
Though she spoke in a measured, level tone, Adelaide saw the hope in the young girl’s eyes and her heart clutched.
If only she had hope.
The pain was getting harder, not easier, to bear. It was pointless to stay when she’d made up her mind. James had his letters of recommendation from Tristan and a boat to board. He had Beatrice and that, really, was the only reason she was delaying her departure. Perhaps there was some chance of happiness for Beatrice, once the pain of all that had happened had somehow been diluted by time.
