Chapter 39

39

Lady Wyverne was rendered mute by this announcement, and Rafe was not slow to press home his advantage. He said, ‘My brother is perfectly well aware of how you comported yourself towards me when I was a boy in this house. Mr Barnaby may not be, but I am quite happy to tell him everything if you utter another syllable. And I am sure that he knows enough of your past history that he will not credit anything you have said in your malice to smear this young lady’s good name.’

Mr Barnaby, who plainly knew which side his bread was buttered, murmured, ‘Certainly not, my lord!’

‘Good name?’ began Lady Wyverne.

‘If you say another word, madam, I will have the footmen seize you and throw you out by main force, and your baggage after you. It’s possible they might enjoy it,’ added Rafe thoughtfully. ‘And I know I would.’

‘You wouldn’t dare!’ Rosanna seethed.

‘Oh, I assure you I would.’

Lady Wyverne took his measure with a glance, and, having taken it, gathered up the shreds of her dignity, and marched out of the room, slamming the door sharply behind her.

Rafe said, ‘I’m sorry, Sophie, that you should have had to endure such a scene. Mademoiselle de Montfaucon,’ he told the lawyer with enormous assurance, ‘is a young relative of my grandmother’s, who most kindly agreed to come to keep her company quite recently. And she swiftly became much more than that, to my grandmother and most of all to me. It can hardly be a surprise that Lady Wyverne should have taken an instant dislike to her, through no fault of her own, and lost no opportunity to abuse her. But she will do so no longer.’

‘Quite, quite,’ said Mr Barnaby. ‘Most unfortunate, but I am delighted to be able to congratulate you, mademoiselle, my lord. Happier times, we may look forward to happier times, I am quite sure of it.’

Lord Charles set down his congealed sausage and his fork, which he had been clutching all this while, and stepped forward to congratulate his brother, and to kiss Sophie enthusiastically and meatily on the cheek. If he noticed that the name she now went by was not the one she’d been introduced to him under not half an hour since – and it was possible that he did not, since as he’d admitted he was neither awake upon all suits nor proficient in the French language – he showed no sign of it. ‘Dashed glad to hear the news!’ he said. ‘Couldn’t be happier for you both! Quite understand why you didn’t mention it before, with the old b— with m’father having just given up the ghost.’

Sophie had no option but to accept these congratulations with becoming modesty. She’d lost her temper with Lady Wyverne, and had been lucky, she must admit, that Rafe had stepped in before they had really fallen to pulling caps. She couldn’t blame him for what he had said, nor complain that he had been high-handed – it was hard to imagine what else he could have contrived to extricate them from the situation. She was a relative of the Dowager’s, albeit a very distant one, and it was quite credible that, seeing Rafe’s growing attraction to her, Rosanna might have been possessed with jealousy. Mr Barnaby was commendably discreet and respectable in appearance, but must know much more than he showed upon his lined face, given that he’d apparently worked for the late Marquess for some years. If indeed he was currently still labouring under the misapprehension that Rosanna had once been Rafe’s mistress, no doubt Rafe would disabuse him firmly of the notion once they were alone again. And as for the spurious engagement, she supposed it could quietly be forgotten, once this crisis had passed. It must be.

And so she smiled, and said all that was proper, and presently found herself being taken up to the Dowager’s chamber, at Lord Charles’s insistence. ‘I’m sure she’d like an opportunity to discuss the good news,’ he said confidingly. Sophie admitted with perfect truth that they had not yet found an opportunity to share it with her. ‘Well then, all the better! I’ll go bail she’ll be delighted to hear it – it’s not right that she should be the last to know – and to be frank, I’m a little frightened of her, and would welcome the company.’

‘Why, Lord Charles?’ asked Sophie as they ascended the main staircase together. ‘She’s always been most kind to me.’

‘It’s the French,’ he confided. ‘Don’t like to keep reminding her I don’t speak it very well. Talks away in it nineteen to the dozen, at the drop of a hat. Know I ought to understand it, but don’t. Dashed awkward.’

‘She does speak English, doesn’t she? I was told she didn’t when I first came here, but that isn’t true. I’m sure I’ve heard her speaking to the footmen.’

‘She can , but she don’t care to. Thinks French is better, or some such stuff. It might be, I suppose – not the man to say. But if she does drift off into it, you can always pull her back, or give me a hint if there’s something that I should particularly have taken notice of.’ Sophie agreed that she could easily do that, and they proceeded on in charity with each other. ‘Another thing!’ said Lord Charles with an air of having been struck with a delightful and novel thought. ‘Now you’re marrying Rafe, I don’t have to try to get my tongue around your surname. Wouldn’t care to attempt it, sounds completely different every time I hear it – just shows you how useless I am at the dashed language. But that’s all fine and dandy – I can call you Sophie, and you can call me Charles. Quite the done thing now you’re going to be m’sister.’

Sophie agreed rather hollowly that this was so, and by this time they had reached the Dowager’s chamber door. They were commanded to enter, and found the old lady sitting en déshabille , taking a light breakfast with Marchand waiting solicitously on her. Sophie could hardly doubt that Delphine had already heard tell of much that had passed downstairs; the abigail’s skills were close on supernatural in that regard. The old lady greeted her grandson with amused affection, slipping into French almost immediately and causing an expression of panic to appear upon his amiable features. He endured it for a while and then took advantage of the little disruption caused by Marchand’s departure to interrupt the Gallic flow and say, ‘Sophie – Miss – can’t quite recall the name – has some happy news for you, ma’am. I’m sure Rafe would have come and told you himself, but he’s tied up with that lawyer fellow and his papers, poor old boy.’

‘Indeed?’ said the Dowager, patting the satin sofa beside her and inviting Sophie to sit. ‘I could perhaps guess what it is, but I shall not. What do you have to tell me, my dear child?’ This was spoken in English, and Lord Charles looked quite delighted at the success of his stratagem.

Sophie, to her consternation, found herself blushing. ‘Rafe – Lord Wyverne – has done the honour of asking me, that is he has…’

Lord Charles came to her rescue. ‘Dashed unpleasant scene downstairs, ma’am, Lady Wyverne was not herself, said some things… Anyone might be overset by hearing them. Was myself! But Rafe explained it all. Natural, I suppose, that she should not quite like to see herself displaced.’ He seemed to realise that this statement might have unfortunate implications in the circumstances, and ploughed on heroically, ‘Not that she was, of course. Not a bit of it. No. But yes! The long and the short of it is that Rafe and Miss, Miss Sophie are to be married! Isn’t that the most capital tidings you ever heard, ma’am?’

‘It certainly is,’ said Delphine, smiling patiently. ‘Although I must say I am not in the least surprised.’

‘Ah, but you’re a clever one,’ said her grandson in honest admiration. ‘Just like Rafe, come to think of it.’

‘Perhaps, my dear boy, you might like to leave us two women alone to discuss the good tidings. In French,’ the Dowager added, with a wicked twinkle, and Lord Charles was gone from the room as swiftly as was consistent with good manners.

‘That foolish boy,’ his fond grandmother said, in her native language, as the door closed behind him. ‘Thank heaven his sister has his share of brains and more. A pretty young woman, or a plain one for that matter, cannot afford to be half as stupid as a young man of rank can. The world will not make allowances for her. She may pretend to be, of course – that is a quite different matter.’

‘I hope you don’t think I have manipulated Rafe into offering for me,’ said Sophie desperately. ‘Because honestly, I haven’t. I’d have been gone from here yesterday if his father hadn’t died so suddenly. I have not the least wish to marry him. I was astonished when he made that public declaration – but after what Lady Wyverne had said, I quite see that he had no choice. He was thinking only of my reputation. I was grateful, but the truth is I have none.’

‘My dear girl!’ the Dowager said. ‘Of course I was not referring to you. You have your own resources – and I am very glad that you do, or you would have perished along with the rest of your family. But I beg you, do not lie to me.’

‘What do you mean, ma’am?’

‘You said you have not the least wish to marry my grandson. But that’s not true, is it?’

‘No,’ said Sophie sadly at last. ‘No. Of course it isn’t. I’m sorry. I should have said, I have not the least intention of marrying him. That would have been more accurate.’

‘That’s better. But will you tell me why?’

‘It must surely be obvious.’

‘Not to me. Indulge an old woman, if you please.’

‘Lady Wyverne accused me of being Rafe’s mistress.’

‘Oh, dear,’ said Delphine, preserving her calm. ‘Did his brother notice? It can sometimes be hard to tell.’

‘I think so, and Mr Barnaby was there too. I expect the servants heard, from the hall. She was very loud. But Rafe spun a convincing tale of her jealousy, said I was your relative, and they seemed to accept it.’

‘That was very well done of him,’ replied the Dowager in tones of satisfaction.

‘But I am his mistress! And I had a lover before that,’ Sophie said, determined to be understood.

‘I have had several,’ answered Delphine. ‘My husband had many more – well, he was older, and he began it, otherwise I expect I might not have done. Or I might, perhaps. It is far too late to say.’

‘It’s not the same!’

‘No, it is not, my dear, because you love him, don’t you? And he loves you. This is exactly what I hoped would happen when I first recognised you.’ She sounded excessively pleased with herself.

Sophie hiccupped, something between a laugh and a sob. ‘It can’t possibly be exactly what you hoped would happen! Lord Wyverne is dead, the jewels gone!’

The Dowager waved one thin hand, in the manner of one who says, Mere details. ‘Tell me this,’ she said. ‘When that dreadful creature so accused you – and I cannot imagine how she had the gall – did Rafe merely say, “No, she is my affianced bride, madam! How dare you so defame her?” It seems most unlike him. He has a temper, you know, though he keeps it well in check. Think how stern he was at first when he disapproved of you.’

‘He didn’t,’ confessed Sophie. ‘He told her to pack her bags, and said that if she uttered another word he’d have the footmen throw her down the steps, and her luggage after her. He was most imperious, and she seemed alarmed. She left the room very swiftly, at any rate.’

Delphine clapped in delight. ‘That’s better than I could have hoped! We shall be comfortable here at last, and I can stop pretending I can’t leave this room unless I am forced into it. And it is all thanks to you!’

Sophie shook her head. ‘I can’t see that. After all the scandal and uproar that Lord and Lady Wyverne provoked, I am quite sure Rafe will want to live a respectable life. He hated being the subject of gossip, I do know that. And I am not respectable. I know you are sorry for what happened, and want to make amends to me, but I assure there is no need to go to such extreme lengths as to marry your grandson to a common criminal.’

‘Nonsense!’ the old lady said robustly. She appeared to be revitalised by what she had just heard, and her eyes were bright with certainty. ‘There is so much wrong in what you say, child, I barely know where to begin. First of all, what Rafe objected to was being unfairly accused of being his stepmother’s lover. If it had in fact been true, he’d have faced it down. It’s the injustice he minded, quite apart from the fact that he loathes her. What shame, to be known throughout the world as the sort of man who would make love to his father’s wife! But he’s not by nature averse to a little scandal, not if he has earned it – no Wyverne is. Do you know how the title came about?’

‘I’ve seen a portrait of the first Marquess in the gallery. Rafe showed me.’

‘Then you can hardly have failed to notice his strong resemblance to King CharlesII,’ said the Dowager drily.

‘I understand what you are trying to say, and I am grateful for it, but it’s not the same,’ Sophie insisted. ‘These are different times.’

‘Let us be plain. My son married his mistress, and she was an actress of low birth and had previously sold herself, to others as well as to him,’ Delphine said bluntly. ‘That’s not what I objected to, in truth. I understand that poor women must live, and all she had was her beauty to trade. I presume she married him for his money and status, and that also I did not mind. Most ladies in society do the same and nobody judges them for it. No. I objected to the fact that, whether through weakness or her own vicious nature, she egged him on to be his worst self. Look at the way they treated Rafe when he was a boy. That was truly unforgivable.

‘But you , Sophie, you bring out the best in Rafe. I understand why he has been so cautious since he grew to manhood, for my sake, for the sake of all the people here and most recently for the sake of Charles and Amelia. So many burdens he has had to carry. But being so careful for so long has damaged him – it is not his proper nature. Left to himself, with no hostages to fortune, he would have damned his father to hell and walked away from here and never come back. And you have given him back that pride in himself. Because of you, he stood up to his father at last, after the jewels had gone, and just now he stood up to Rosanna. This is his best self, not his worst. His true, deep nature. And you have brought this out in him. Do you understand me?’

‘It’s what I want to believe,’ said Sophie distressfully. ‘It would be so easy and seductive to credit it. But I can’t think that I should, for his sake.’

‘My dear child, you know that he loves you. I refuse to believe that he has not made that very plain. It was certainly plain to me, though he has said not a word of it. He is a man grown, he knows his own mind, and he loves you. Though he is a Wyverne, he is constant, he will not change. Can you doubt it?’

‘Perhaps he does love me. But he shouldn’t.’

‘Oh, shouldn’t,’ said the Dowager with a shrug. ‘What he should not do, loving a woman like you, is marry some simpering debutante who wants the title as much as Rosanna did, but is “respectable” so all the world forgives it. And that is what he will come to, make no mistake, if you refuse him. He must marry eventually. You surely cannot think that his fool of a brother is fit to inherit here, or ever will be.’

‘Poor Lord Charles,’ said Sophie with a twisted smile.

‘Poor Rafe, if you do not have him.’

‘There will be a great scandal if I do. I don’t want that for him.’

‘I don’t see why. The Marquess of Wyverne marries Clemence de Montfaucon. What could be more suitable?’

‘I’m not that girl any more. I can’t be her again, it’s too late. I’m a thief. I’ve stabbed people, and not cared if they died of it.’ She said desperately, ‘There’s a picture of me downstairs, half-naked, as Danae with her shower of gold.’

‘Oh, how diverting!’ said the Dowager rather wistfully. It wasn’t entirely clear to Sophie if she was referring to posing nude, or stabbing people, or perhaps both.

‘The artist was my lover!’

‘An artist! Was he good to you? I only ask because I have observed that they can often be somewhat self-absorbed.’

‘Oh, you are quite incorrigible, ma’am! Yes, he was, for a while. But then as he grew more prosperous he wanted me to be respectable, to forget what I had been. And I can’t. I just can’t.’

‘Very well.’ Delphine leaned forward to emphasise her point. ‘Talk to Rafe. See if that’s what he wants of you. I am almost sure it isn’t. He is a nobleman, not a city clerk or an artist with patrons he must please.

‘My dear, do not mistake me, we live in the world as it is. I agree that times are changing, and it seems clear that once the poor King and his wastrel sons are dead they will change faster. It may well be that it will be expedient to conceal your past, to deny – if anyone should ever have the temerity to raise the matter – that you are the girl in the shocking pictures. But you can do that. You can do it with aplomb, as the Marchioness of Wyverne. I presume you don’t want to live in a back slum and pick pockets for a living until you are too old to continue? Is that what you mean to do, if in the end you refuse my grandson and walk away from him? I must tell you in all seriousness that I think that would be perverse.’

‘No,’ Sophie confessed. ‘There’s no virtue in poverty for its own sake. It’s dirty and dangerous and unpleasant. If I had money and security, I could use my position to help girls who suffer every day as I once did. But you are too persuasive, ma’am, and I should not listen to you. The plain fact is, I care for Rafe too much to want to ruin him, and I would ruin him, I know. And as for my future,’ she said with a flash of spirit, ‘I must tell you that I am a very good pickpocket!’

‘And I am sure you will be an excellent marchioness,’ said the Dowager tranquilly. ‘I only wish you would get on and do it quickly. I would like to see a great-grandchild or two before I die.’

Sophie had to laugh, despite her distress. ‘You are quite shameless, madame la marquise, do you know?’

‘Naturally I am aware of it. One does not reach my age without knowing such things. I will stop at nothing to see my grandson happy. I would even lie – but on this occasion there was no need. It is a very simple matter, it seems to me. Talk to him,’ she said. ‘That’s all I ask. Talk, and listen.’