Beloved Virago
Author
Anne Ashley
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15.7K
Chapters
16
Chapter 1
January 1815
Despite the vast improvements to many of the roads, the majority of those who could well afford to journey about the land remained unwilling to suffer the discomforts of winter travel unless the trip was totally unavoidable. Consequently Miss Katherine O’Malley had found no difficulty in attaining rooms for herself and her maid the previous afternoon, when a strengthening wind and the threat of snow had persuaded her to veer on the side of caution and seek refuge in a superior posting-house. Fortunately at some point during the night the wind, having changed direction, had eased considerably, and Katherine had woken to discover a landscape prettily laced with only the finest covering of snow and bathed in watery winter sunshine.
After glancing out of the window to view the highly encouraging sight of a carriage bowling along the road, Katherine returned her attention to her companion in time to see a freshly baked roll, liberally covered with jam, being consumed with relish, and succumbed to an imp of pure mischief.
‘Most people might be forgiven for supposing that the substantial amount of strawberry preserve with which you manage to coat your bread would succeed in sweetening your disposition, Bridie. But I have known you far too long, and therefore do not hold out much hope.’
The instant she had swallowed the last mouthful, Bridie showed no reluctance in responding in kind. ‘And to be sure ’tis a mystery to me how anyone with a tongue sharper than a barber’s razor could have the brass-faced nerve to criticise an easygoing soul like myself.’
Reaching for her coffee cup, Katherine silently acknowledged the truth of what her lifelong companion and self-appointed protector had said. Ashamed though she was over this undeniable flaw in her character, the fact of the matter was that she had never been afraid to speak her mind, not even as a child.
Regardless of the fact that in recent years she had attempted to control her occasionally ungovernable temper, she was still sadly inclined on occasions to wound with a cutting barb, and remained impatient of folly. This did not mean, she sincerely hoped, that she had become so intolerant, so self-willed, that she wasn’t prepared to listen to the views of others. At least, she amended silently, she would always try to take account of the feelings of that plump and loving female who had taken care of her with such touching devotion for a score of years and more.
‘We should be with your aunt and uncle by early afternoon, providing we suffer no further mishap.’ Bridie tutted. ‘But I’ll say it again, Miss Katherine, ’tis plain daft to be gadding about the country at this time of year.’
A tender smile went some way to dimming the teasing gleam in Katherine’s strikingly coloured blue-green eyes. ‘You know full well why I was determined to make the trip.’ She paused to sample the contents of her cup. ‘You didn’t truly expect me to forgo the pleasure of celebrating my cousin’s engagement, and enjoying the company for a week or so of the only family I have left in the world, simply because of the few discomforts I must be prepared to suffer in travelling at this season of the year?’
‘I know you well enough, Miss Kate, to be certain sure that when your mind is set on something there’s no reasoning with you, and that you had every intention of attending the party. Though why in the world your cousin couldn’t have arranged to become betrothed in the spring, like any sensible girl, when the weather is warmer and law-abiding souls can journey about the land without fear of becoming stranded, I’ll never know!’
‘It wasn’t through choice, as you’re very well aware,’ Katherine reminded her. ‘Caroline’s future husband is a soldier. Captain Charlesworth wouldn’t be able to obtain leave at the drop of a hat. He still has duties to perform, even though the war with France is now, hopefully, at an end.’
‘To be sure, that’s true enough,’ Bridie acknowledged, before transferring her gaze to the clock in the corner of the private parlour, and rising to her feet. ‘And I suppose we ought to be thinking of making a move, if you wish to arrive in plenty of time to have a wee rest before the party. The weather’s fine at the moment, but there’s no saying it’ll remain so. I’ll away now to check our overnight bags have been returned to the carriage, and arrange for the post-boys to have the vehicle waiting at the door.’
After nodding assent, Katherine remained for the time it took to put on her bonnet and collect her reticule and gloves from a side table, and then followed her Irish maid’s example by going out into the coffee-room, where she discovered only the landlord lurking in the shadows.
Eager to recommence the journey, she wasted no time in settling her bill, and then made her way towards the front entrance, slipping her purse safely back inside her reticule as she did so. Consequently she didn’t observe the tall gentleman, swathed in a voluminous grey cloak, entering the inn, and promptly collided with what felt like a solid wall of bone and muscle. Air left her lungs in a rush, and it was only the two long-fingered hands which immediately clasped her upper arms which saved her from reeling from the impact.
‘I’m so very sorry, ma’am. I trust you are unhurt?’
The deep voice clearly betrayed concern, and Katherine didn’t hesitate to assure him, the instant she had regained her breath, that she had suffered no real harm. ‘And it was as much my fault as yours, sir,’ she added, graciously accepting her share of the blame, ‘for I wasn’t attending where I was going.’
The continued clasp of strong hands was oddly reassuring, and strangely reminiscent of a certain someone’s touch in the dim and distant past. Katherine raised her head, only to find the breath leaving her body in a faint gasp for a second time as she gazed at the swarthy, wholly masculine features looming above.
For a moment it was as much as she could do to stare into thickly lashed, dark eyes, as she tried ineffectually to capture an elusive memory. She saw them widen fractionally, clearly revealing a hint of appreciation in their warm brown depths, as they calmly began to scan every contour of her face. Although not precisely unaccustomed to receiving admiring glances from members of the opposite sex, she was forced silently to own that there was something both faintly disturbing and remarkably engaging about the directness of this tall gentleman’s unwavering gaze.
He seemed reluctant to release her, but after a further unsettling moment he allowed his hands to fall to his sides. ‘Are you certain you are all right, ma’am? Perhaps I should summon the landlady. You are a little pale, if I may say so.’
‘I am perfectly well,’ she assured him swiftly, if not quite truthfully. ‘But I thank you for your concern, sir.’
Bemused by the peculiar sensations this enigmatic stranger had somehow managed to evoke, Katherine successfully slipped past him and out into the crisp morning air. Fortunately he made no attempt to detain her further, but she could almost feel those attractive, almond-shaped eyes boring into her back as she hurried across the forecourt to the waiting carriage.
‘Why, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost!’ Bridie remarked the instant her young mistress had scrambled into the post-chaise and had begun to make herself comfortable on the seat opposite.
‘I feel as if I’ve just seen one,’ she didn’t hesitate to admit. ‘Did you happen to notice that tall gentleman who entered the inn a few minutes ago?’
‘Can’t say as I noticed a soul, miss. Why, was it someone you know?’
Katherine frowned in an effort to remember, for there was something there still lurking in the dim recesses of her memory which she just could not capture. ‘He seemed oddly familiar, yes. But for the life of me I cannot imagine where I’ve seen his face before—certainly not in Bath, I feel sure.’
‘And was it a handsome one?’ Bridie couldn’t resist asking, thereby earning herself an impatient glance.
‘I wouldn’t have described it so, no. He was attractive, certainly, but not what I would call handsome.’ Katherine paused to straighten the skirt of her dark blue carriage dress. ‘Not that it would have made a ha’p’orth of difference to me if he had been a perfect Adonis.’
‘No, I know it wouldn’t!’ Bridie retorted, with the speed of a striking snake. ‘And we both know why, don’t we?’
Katherine elected not to answer, and turned her head to stare resolutely out of the window, a clear indication that she considered the conversation at an end. Unfortunately the action didn’t prevent her from thinking about her maid’s prompt rejoinder.
She didn’t suppose for a moment that Bridie had intended to be heartlessly cruel. It was not in the woman’s nature. In fact, the opposite was true. Bridie, loving and unfailingly loyal, had always been there to offer comfort and encouragement. Which was possibly just as well, Katherine reflected, for she sometimes felt she would never have survived the many heartaches she had suffered in recent years without the constant support of that occasionally infuriating and frequently overprotective Irish woman.
It was from Bridie, who had been there to witness the event, that Katherine had learned that she had been born during what had been one of the worst storms to hit Ireland in living memory. While the high wind had been battering the country, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake, Charlotte O’Malley had been giving birth to a daughter, a protracted and agonising ordeal that had almost brought about her own death and had resulted in her not being able to have any more children.
Oh, yes, she had indeed been a scourge to those close to her since the day of her birth, Katherine reflected dismally. Although blissfully unaware of the fact during her idyllic childhood, she had been forced to accept in recent years, after the series of tragic events which had struck her life, that she did indeed bring ill fortune to those for whom she cared most deeply. Only one person seemed immune to the lethal Katherine O’Malley curse.
She couldn’t prevent a tiny sigh escaping as she instinctively cast a glance at the plump, middle-aged female seated in the opposite corner of the carriage. It would be foolish to hope that any prospective husband might be similarly protected, and Katherine certainly had no intention of burdening her conscience further by encouraging the advances of some poor unsuspecting male. It was perhaps fortunate, therefore, that her silent resolve never to marry had not been tested thus far.
During the six years she had lived in Bath, she had been introduced to numerous very personable gentlemen, and yet not one had ever succeeded in arousing in her more than a faint interest. Not once had she ever experienced the pull of mutual attraction… At least, she silently amended, never until today.
She couldn’t deny that she had felt oddly drawn to that tall gentleman back at the inn. His touch had been strangely reminiscent of her father’s—gentle, yet wholly protective. It was perhaps just as well that their paths were unlikely ever to cross again, for she very much feared that the enigmatic stranger might be just the type of man who would test her resolve to remain a spinster to its limits.
By early afternoon, when the hired carriage had pulled up outside her aunt and uncle’s charming house in Hampshire, Katherine had succeeded in thrusting the brief encounter with the disturbing stranger from her mind. After being admitted to the house by Meldrew, the very correct manservant, and discovering that both her aunt and cousin were at home, Katherine removed her outdoor garments and, leaving Bridie to take charge of the unpacking, went directly into the comfortable parlour where she discovered the two female members of the Wentworth family happily engaged in their favourite occupation.
Mrs Lavinia Wentworth, raising her head at the opening of the door, betrayed her delight by a warm smile. Setting aside her sewing, she was on her feet in an instant, her arms outstretched in welcome. ‘How lovely to see you, my dear!’ she announced, after placing a kiss on the face which so closely resembled her dear, departed sister’s.
After returning the embrace with equal warmth, Katherine turned to the only other occupant of the room, who betrayed no less delight at her arrival. ‘You look blooming, my dear Caro. Captain Charlesworth is a lucky man! I trust everything is in readiness for the party tonight?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Caroline assured her. ‘Mama and I have been busy all week finalising the arrangements. We are expecting around a hundred guests. And I’m so very glad that you are to be among them. When you failed to arrive yesterday, both Mama and I began to fear that you had changed your mind, and didn’t choose to risk making the journey, after all.’
Eyes glinting with unholy amusement, Katherine sat beside her pretty cousin on the sofa. ‘My, my! What a feeble creature you must think me! I might be almost three years your senior, Caroline, but I’m not in my dotage quite yet. No, it was merely that a threat of snow yesterday afternoon forced me to take shelter at a posting-house. That, and a desperate need to silence the dragon-lady’s continual carping.’
Knowing precisely to whom her niece had referred, Mrs Wentworth could not forbear a smile. Although Katherine had grown into the image of her lovely mother, she had inherited her wonderful dark auburn hair and blue-green eyes, made more striking by dusky brows and lashes, from her Irish father. She certainly favoured her sire in temperament too, for she possessed a fine Irish temper and could be quite outspoken on occasions. ‘Bridie has only your best interests at heart, Katherine,’ she remarked. ‘And I must confess that it has relieved my mind during these past years knowing that she has always been there to care for you.’
Katherine chose not to comment, for although she valued Bridie highly, there had been occasions, most especially in recent months, when she had found her loyal Irish maid’s continual cosseting increasingly irritating. So, instead, she changed the subject by enquiring into the whereabouts of Caroline’s elder brother. ‘Is Peter not here at present?’
‘No, he’s back at university, although he did spend Christmas with the family,’ Caroline enlightened her. ‘To be frank, I believe he was relieved to be going. I do not think he quite relished the prospect of having to aid Papa in entertaining the dowagers this evening.’
Katherine cast a glance brimful of wicked amusement in her aunt’s direction. ‘And does my esteemed uncle look forward to such an onerous duty, I cannot help asking myself?’ she remarked, knowing full well that Henry Wentworth, although a most agreeable, warm-hearted gentleman, was not disposed to socialising to any very great extent.
Reaching for the tambour frame once again, Mrs Wentworth could only admire her niece’s perspicacity. ‘I think it would be more truthful to say that he is resigned to the task expected of him, Katherine. Unless I much mistake the matter, when he rode out a little earlier it was for the sole purpose of calling on a neighbour of ours, Sir Giles Osborne, in order to enlist the baronet’s aid.’
His wife’s suspicions were uncannily accurate, for Henry Wentworth had set out for Osborne House, and was at that moment enjoying a glass of burgundy in the company of his friend.
‘I have already assured you that I shall not fail to attend,’ Sir Giles answered in response to the heartfelt request. ‘My sister would never let me hear the end of it if we didn’t put in an appearance. We shall arrive promptly at eight, and you may rely upon my unfailing support.’
‘You’re a good friend, Osborne.’ Mr Wentworth tugged at his cravat, as though it had suddenly grown uncomfortably tight. ‘Don’t mind admitting that I’m not relishing the prospect of entertaining a pack of fiendish harridans.’
Sir Giles, a master at concealing both thoughts and emotions, permitted himself a thin smile. ‘The Dowager Lady Charlesworth is certainly a formidable matron. It is something of an enigma how she and that apathetic late husband of hers ever managed to produce two such well-balanced, engaging sons. I know you and Lavinia must be delighted with the match. Richard is an agreeable young man and a credit to his regiment.’
Unlike his sister, who enjoyed nothing better than a comfortable coze, Sir Giles only ever indulged in small talk when it was to his benefit to do so. Today, however, he was prepared to exert himself a little more than usual in an attempt to prevent his amiable neighbour from brooding unnecessarily over the ordeal ahead of him.
‘I have every faith in that charming wife of yours to be sure that everything will run smoothly this evening.’ There was no response, though Mr Wentworth, looking moderately more relaxed, did lean back in the chair and stretch his feet out towards the blazing fire. ‘I seem to remember my sister remarking that almost everyone who received an invitation has accepted. And the weather appears to be favouring you thus far.’
‘Yes, thank the Lord! At least we haven’t had snow, except…’ The worried frown returned. ‘My wife’s niece didn’t arrive yesterday as expected. Which makes me wonder whether the rest of the country is so fortunate, and bad weather might be heading our way.’
‘Had she far to travel?’ Sir Giles enquired, striving to maintain a polite show of concern, even though his interest in the unknown female was zero.
‘From Bath. My daughter will be very disappointed if she doesn’t arrive. Caroline simply adores her. My wife does too, come to that! Lavinia has been trying to persuade Katherine to make her home with us for the past twelve months, but without success. Still…’ he shrugged ‘…the girl seems happy enough to remain in the house left to her by her great-aunt. And it isn’t as if she’s a chit straight out of the schoolroom. She’ll attain the age of three-and-twenty later this year. And she doesn’t reside alone. There’s a companion living in the house, and an Irish maid who is devoted to her.’
‘Evidently her parents are dead,’ Sir Giles remarked, successfully stifling a yawn.
Henry Wentworth confirmed this with a solemn nod of his head. ‘Yes, it was all very sad. It so happens that her father was approached by the government to take a cargo of horses out to Portugal in readiness for the arrival of the British expeditionary force in the summer of ’08. There was no better man at breeding or handling horses than Liam O’Malley. The craft he was on met up, as previously arranged, with two other vessels that had left England, also carrying urgently needed supplies. They were attacked by the French just off the Bay of Biscay.’
His expression changed, and he suddenly appeared more angry than sad. ‘Damn it! Where was the British Navy? Where was that promised protection, that’s what I’d like to know? Some damned mix-up at the Admiralty was what we were told! Apparently they had received information stating that the cargo vessels wouldn’t be setting sail for another ten days.’
Only for a moment did a speculative gleam flicker in the baronet’s steely-grey eyes as he digested these disturbing facts. ‘Yes, that does seem strange.’
‘Deuced odd!’ Mr Wentworth agreed. ‘My wife’s poor sister never recovered from the shock of losing her husband. She died a few weeks later after contracting a simple chill which went to her chest, and my father-in-law, Colonel Fairchild, went over to Ireland and brought Katherine back to live with him.’ Again he shook his head. ‘Poor little mite was just beginning to recover from her parents’ deaths when the Colonel suffered a fatal heart attack.’
‘Indeed, your niece is to be pitied,’ Sir Giles acknowledged, whilst momentarily wondering why the name Fairchild should seem vaguely familiar.
‘She was in Bath at the time. The old Colonel considered the girl was in dire need of a little polish, as you might say, and packed her off to live with his spinster sister so that she might attend a seminary. The house in Bath now belongs to Katherine, and she’s comfortably circumstanced. I can vouch for that, as I’m one of her trustees. Although she cannot touch so much as a penny piece of the money she attained from the sale of her father’s sizeable property in Ireland, and the money her grandfather left her in his will, until she attains the age of five-and-twenty, her great-aunt, Augusta Fairchild, ensured that she will live very agreeably until then.’
Once again Sir Giles found his interest in this unknown young woman swiftly waning, and experienced a modicum of relief when his butler unexpectedly entered to announce the arrival of another visitor. He was on his feet in a trice, surprising his neighbour somewhat by betraying a degree of delight when a tall gentleman, his muscular figure swathed in a voluminous grey cloak, came striding purposefully into the book-lined room.
‘Ross, my dear boy! This is an unexpected pleasure!’
The new arrival betrayed no similar joy as he shook the baronet’s proffered hand, although Mr Wentworth noticed a less hard set to Major Daniel Ross’s well-shaped mouth when the visitor was introduced to him.
‘Just a flying visit, Osborne,’ the Major announced. ‘I’ve a letter here from Cranford, which I undertook to deliver personally as I was making a trip to the capital in order to attend a reunion dinner with some fellow officers and spend some time with a particular friend, and therefore wouldn’t be inconvenienced too greatly by the slight detour.’
‘Thank you, my dear boy,’ Sir Giles responded, as he relieved the Major of the sealed missive and consigned it to the safety of his jacket pocket.
‘Cranford? Would that be the Honourable Charles Cranford, a member of Parliament?’ Mr Wentworth asked, thereby regaining his neighbour’s attention.
‘Why, yes,’ Sir Giles confirmed. ‘Are you acquainted with him?’
‘Not personally, no. But I dealt with my late father-in-law’s estate after he died, and unless I much mistake the matter it was none other than Charles Cranford who purchased the Colonel’s house in Dorset.’
‘Ah, yes! You may possibly be right, Wentworth. And that is perhaps why the name Fairchild seemed vaguely familiar to me,’ Sir Giles confessed, before casting an enquiring glance in the Major’s direction. ‘Young Daniel, here, should be able to enlighten us. Also he ought to be able to set your mind at rest over the state of the roads in the west.’
Although betraying mild surprise, the Major didn’t hesitate to assure Mr Wentworth that, although there had indeed been a light covering of snow overnight, all the main routes were passable. ‘I set out before dawn, and had no trouble whatsoever in reaching Andover, where I ate a late breakfast. And to answer your first query—yes, Charles Cranford did purchase the late Colonel Fairchild’s property. My home is situated close by. I knew the Colonel very well.’
‘Good Lord! It is a small world, indeed!’ Mr Wentworth exclaimed. ‘You must be acquainted with my wife Lavinia, the Colonel’s younger daughter. Although,’ he added, as he saw dark brows draw together above the Major’s faintly aquiline nose, ‘I expect you were a mere boy when we married and she moved away from the county.’
‘I remember that the Colonel had two daughters, sir. But as you remarked, it is a long time since last I set eyes upon either of them.’
‘Well, sir, I’m certain my wife would enjoy seeing you again. She retains fond memories of that part of the country. In fact,’ he added, as a thought suddenly occurred to him, ‘we’re holding a party this evening. Why not come along? You’d be most welcome. I know Lavinia would enjoy nothing better than chatting over old times.’
‘First, let us see if we cannot persuade him to remain long enough to enjoy a glass of wine,’ Sir Giles intervened, sensing that Major Ross was on the point of declining Mr Wentworth’s kind invitation.
Quickly finishing off the contents of his own glass, and refusing a second, Mr Wentworth cast a brief glance at the mantel-clock, which clearly informed him that it was time he was heading homewards. ‘And I must be on my way. Hope to see you at the party tonight, Major.’
‘He genuinely means it, Ross,’ Sir Giles assured him, the instant his neighbour had departed. A ghost of a smile once again flickered about his thin lips. ‘Not that I suppose for a moment that I could influence your decision one way or the other, but you’re most welcome to put up here for the night. It would grant us the opportunity to reminisce pleasurably over old times.’
The Major’s dark eyes were brightened by a decidedly cynical gleam, as he accepted the glass of burgundy, and lowered his tall frame into the chair recently vacated by his host’s neighbour. ‘You will forgive me for saying so, Osborne, but I cannot recall that our dealings were ever precisely enjoyable.’
‘You are thinking of that delectable French filly, Justine Baron, I do not doubt.’ Sir Giles settled himself in the chair on the opposite side of the hearth, and gazed meditatively down at his glass. ‘Undeniably that must rate as my greatest failure. I came so close to catching him then.’
‘Are you certain that she would have kept to her part of the bargain?’ the Major asked, sounding decidedly sceptical, and after a moment the baronet nodded his head.
‘I could of course have attained the information I wanted by—er—other means. But in Justine’s case I chose to be merciful. She did not become a spy through choice, but because she was forced into it, although she was well paid by her country for her services. There was only one thing Justine loved above money…and that was her sister. We kept to our part of the bargain, and I’m certain in my own mind she would have kept to hers by revealing that British traitor’s name, if the devil hadn’t discovered where I’d hidden her. I knew even then it had to be one of two people. That belief has not changed. Nor my resolve to unmask the rogue.’
The look in the Major’s eyes contained neither sympathy nor encouragement. ‘The war is over.’
‘It might be for you, Ross,’ Sir Giles countered, reaching into his pocket for the letter his companion had kindly taken the trouble to deliver. ‘But there are still a few of us remaining who are determined to see justice done.’
He took a moment to apprise himself of the contents of the missive before returning it to the safety of his pocket. ‘Cranford writes to inform me that he is organising a party at his home at the beginning of April, and has, it seems, been successful in persuading several—er—interesting people to attend. Will you be among the guests?’
‘Possibly,’ the Major answered, clearly unwilling to commit himself.
‘By the by, I had heard that you’d sold your commission,’ Sir Giles remarked with an abrupt change of subject. ‘What will you find to do with yourself now your career in the army is at an end?’
‘Look after the property I’ve neglected for far too long.’
‘Ah! So those old, festering wounds have finally healed, have they? I’m glad to hear that you are ready to settle down.’
Daniel stared intently into the baronet’s shrewd eyes. ‘My God!’ he muttered, experiencing a mixture of anger and grudging respect. ‘Not much ever escapes you, does it, Osborne?’
Just a hint of smug satisfaction crept into Sir Giles’s expression. ‘I have endeavoured over the years to ensure that not much ever does. And since you are to attend a reunion dinner you must have brought suitable evening attire.’
‘Only my dress uniform,’ Daniel disclosed.
‘Excellent! Then there’s no reason why you shouldn’t attend the party tonight.’
