Chapter 31

‘I had no idea that your brother was married,' Georgiana said blankly, as she struggled to undo her damp pelisse with stiff, cold fingers that did not want to obey her. ‘Nobody has ever so much as mentioned the fact, or named his wife, his widow, in conversation.'

Her husband came to help her, and once done drew her close to the fire that burned in the grate, and urged her to sit. ‘I do not suppose we have. Ash had been married for a little less than a year when he died,' he said in expressionless tones. ‘He was wounded in a skirmish before Toulouse, and came home to recuperate; he met Isabella Richmond in Harrogate, fell deeply in love with her, and they married quickly. They were very happy together in the short time they had. They lived at the Castle while he recovered from his injury – they had their own apartments – but of course when Bonaparte escaped from Elba, my brother was obliged to return to service. I asked him not to go, said he had done his duty and more already, begged him to think of Isabella too, but he would not listen to me. He'd always been damnably stubborn; we all are. Isabella found she could not endure to be parted from him, and of course in the peculiar circumstances of last year there was no need for it; her parents travelled out to Belgium to be with her. And thank God they did. They were in Brussels at the time of Waterloo.'

Georgie thought she might have an inkling of what Gabriel was trying to tell her. ‘She saw…?'

‘After the battle, poor Ash lay on the field alone and in agony for a night – it pains me greatly to think of it, and his wife's anxiety at that time can only be imagined – but when he was at last found and identified he was brought to her lodgings, very gravely wounded, and died in her arms a short while later. There was no chance that he could have survived such an injury. My cousin was taken there too, and she and her mother did their best – I imagine it was chiefly her mother, poor lady, for Isabella was in a state of collapse by then, I am told – to nurse him, but he too died a few weeks later.

‘I travelled out to Belgium as soon as I realised that my cousin John had signed up upon some foolish patriotic impulse. He was no kind of soldier, he was just an impulsive boy. I was there for his death, though not in time to see my brother alive again. It was… a difficult period for all of us.'

She reached out instinctively to him, and he took her cold hand in his. ‘I am afraid there is more, and when I have told you all perhaps you will understand why I have waited until now to marry. The Richmonds brought Isabella back to Yorkshire at last, with my assistance. They thought it best they take her home to Harrogate – the Castle was full of painful recollections, and my presence was in no sense a help.'

‘Do you resemble your brother so much?'

‘I did not think so, in all truth, but we were close enough in age, he was just two years younger, and certainly the similarity was enough to cause her distress, as you saw for yourself today. I suppose it is that, and also perhaps the fact that a worthless fellow like me is still alive – is married, now – while poor Ash is dead and in his grave. But in any case, after a few weeks had gone by Mrs Richmond wrote to me and told me that Isabella was with child. Said she was with child, perhaps I should say, for that is how her mother put it.

‘I think you must be able to divine the confusion of my feelings. We were all happy for her, and hoped that the news would give her reason to live, and time to rebuild her shattered life and look to the future once more. And for our part… Not just the possibility of an heir when we had thought that chance entirely gone – that was a great deal in itself – but that something of my brother should survive. To see a child of his growing up and taking his place as my heir… Of course I was uneasy, we all were: Isabella had been very ill, and to think that everything should rest on such a fragile hope. It was almost a form of torture as the months passed, I found…' He trailed off, and passed his hand over his face.

‘She lost the child?'

‘I am not sure there ever really was a child. Her mother certainly believes that there was not. She began to suspect as much as time passed, and around Christmastime at last she felt obliged to speak to Isabella on the subject, despite her natural reluctance to do so. Mrs Richmond meant well, and I do not see what else she could have done in the circumstances. She felt that her daughter could not be allowed to live in delusion indefinitely, that it was unhealthy to allow it to continue. The result of her intervention, though, was that Isabella collapsed entirely, and for a long time her reason and even her life were despaired of. She has been under the care of a medical gentleman here in York for several months; they make a speciality of such afflictions here, using the most modern and humane methods. I would have gone to visit her, as would Blanche, but it was thought best by her physician that we did not do so, as it might give her pain. She has been better lately, we were told, and evidently now has been discharged from medical supervision. I cannot think that her parents brought her by the house against her will, for they have always been most careful of her wellbeing. I can only imagine that she must have expressed a wish to visit us, or just to see the place where she stayed with Ash on her honeymoon. Perhaps they thought it progress, and were glad of it.' He smiled bleakly. ‘It did not look like progress to me; did it to you?'

‘No,' she said quietly.

‘I am sorry,' he said at last, ‘that you were subjected to such an encounter on your wedding day. I wish I could have spared you that.'

‘It's not your fault,' she answered with conviction. ‘Poor lady, her poor family. It was just an unfortunate coincidence that they should be passing at that moment among all others. How could you predict it?'

‘I wrote to them,' he said. ‘I did so as soon as we arrived here. I thought they should know I was to be married, rather than hear it from strangers, when if things had turned out otherwise their daughter might have been Duchess of Northriding one day. I owed them that. It has always preyed on my mind: the fact that news of my marriage could not be kept from her for ever, and would undoubtedly cause her distress. It is one reason among many that I delayed seeking a bride till now. Perhaps you can understand why I did not have the heart for any of it for a long time, though I knew in the end I must do so. It was not by any means an easy letter to write to her parents, though I knew that they at least would understand my situation. But I directed the letter to their home in Harrogate; I did not know they were here.'

‘How could you?'

‘I suppose you're right. But I should have told you of Isabella's existence before. The shock to you would not then have been so great.'

‘I do not suppose the whole tragic tale is something you enjoy recalling.'

‘It is not.' He smiled a little more naturally this time. ‘Thank you for listening and uttering no reproaches. Enough of such sadness, on this day of all days. What would you like to do now, my dear? I am entirely at your disposal.'

She rose, and he rose with her. ‘I think we should go to bed,' she said.