The woman shrugged. ‘Testimony, he said, and that was all. The truth, in a sworn and notarised document – that I had every reason to believe Edward sterile, from my own knowledge and experience. He did not ask me to tell any lies, he emphasised. There was no need. And the document need never be made public – I didn’t believe that, by the way, not for a second. He made my skin crawl.’
He made Viola’s skin crawl, too. ‘I believe I could put a name to him.’
‘I too. And that name is Armstrong. Your new husband’s older brother – Edward’s heir, before you had your sons and forced him from his place. He looked like an Armstrong to me; he had a strong look of his dissolute father, whom I knew years ago and never liked or trusted.’
‘Tarquin, his name is. Edward warned me against him on his deathbed. Said he would do anything to gain the dukedom he had expected for so long, and which I snatched from him. Did he give you any sort of ultimatum?’
‘Yes. He told me he would come again to see me very soon. He seemed to enjoy the idea that I would be dreading his return, never knowing when it might happen. He has not been back yet, but I cannot doubt that he will, one day or another. And so I wanted to warn you – but I was not confident that a letter from me would even be read by you, or that you would believe it if you read it. You might so easily think that I was just a woman who has fallen from high rank in society to low, and wanted to make mischief. I thought it would be best if I could see you face to face and explain.’
‘What do you mean to do, Madame Lesmire?’
‘If he had offered me money, I would have thrown it back in his face. I don’t need bribes; I am not so desperate. But I will write his paper – speaking merely of my own experience with Edward, and stating the undeniable fact of my children’s birth. I don’t have much choice, as I hope you can see. I don’t trust him an inch, of course I don’t, but I cannot jeopardise my family’s situation. We are not wealthy people – not now. Philippe lost most of what he had when we fled France in 1792, in fear of our lives, and we were obliged to struggle to make a place for ourselves in a country that is not over-friendly to the French. It has not been easy, and my husband made it harder by his weaknesses. I cannot throw away what acceptance we have for the sake of principles.’
‘And he is not asking you to lie, after all.’
‘No. But I am sorry.’
‘Don’t be – you owe me nothing. We only met an hour ago. Indeed, I must thank you for your warning.’ Viola discovered that she liked this woman – both her discretion and her directness. How odd, when they had something bizarre in common that might have been supposed to make them deeply awkward with each other, rather than comfortable.
‘What will you do with the information I have given you, though? I meant to prepare you, and I have, but what can you do?’
‘I have absolutely no idea.’
34
Viola hadn’t felt like lingering in York buying bed linens and crockery after what Julia Lesmire had told her, and was soon on her way back to Ventris Castle – a journey of many hours even in the best of circumstances, since some of the roads were bad and the changes of horses numerous and time-consuming. She was uneasy as she sat idle in the carriage, and disposed to blame herself for carelessness. She had been lulled into a sense of false security lately, as though she and Richard and the boys were an ordinary family with an ordinary expectation of being happy together if no immediate ill health or mischance threatened their tranquillity. But it wasn’t true – there was always a shadow hanging over them, the shadow of Tarquin Armstrong and his malice, the shadow of the past, and she had been foolish to allow herself to forget it. She told herself that falling prey to agitation would not help matters, but she was undeniably not in the calmest frame of mind when at last her chaise jolted across the uneven cobbles into the courtyard.
It was dark by now, since it was late autumn and even the sunny days were short, but there was moonlight, and she could not repress the feeling that the old building looked eerie in it, and somehow ominous, the empty windows gaping in a sinister fashion.Bad things have happened here in the dark, she thought with a shudder. It was a ridiculous fancy, and she shook it off as the huge door to the great hall opened and her sons came tumbling out to greet her, talking – at full volume and both at once – of all that they had been doing with Richard in her absence. He stood behind them, bathed in the warm light from inside, smiling a little – an undeniably reassuring presence, despite everything. She’d tell him, as soon as they were alone.
She had expected him to show some perturbation when he heard of his half-brother’s recent presence in York, but he did not, to her surprise and irritation. When she accused him of not treating the matter seriously enough, he responded coolly, ‘We knew his intentions towards you and the boys were not kindly – how could they be? This news is merely confirmation of that fact and nothing more.’
‘I do not know how you can take it so lightly!’ she said with some heat. They were in bed and both naked, the long, tattered velvet curtains at the mullioned windows closed against the evening chill, a fire of sea coal glowing in the imposing stone fireplace. There was little furniture in the room beside the big four-poster bed, and nothing that gave evidence of modern times; it would be easy enough to fall prey to Gothic fancies in such a setting.
‘I don’t take it lightly, Viola, I promise. But I think you overestimate what it is in Tarquin’s power to do. As you said yourself, this woman can have no knowledge of your particular circumstances, and in fact claims none. She can only speak of her own situation, and the facts as they stood thirty years ago. That is not evidence in law of anything.’
‘Of course it is not. But Madame Lesmire said?—’
‘Madamewhat?’ His voice was suddenly sharp, a crack of raw emotion in the quiet room.
Her heart beat fast at the sound, the little hairs on her arms standing on end in some kind of primitive warning. ‘Madame Lesmire. Julia Lesmire. Did I not tell you her current surname? Her husband was a French émigré, she said – a refugee from the Terror.’ She was talking too much, too fast and high, as she often did when she was discomposed. Why had the woman’s name affected him so? He could not possibly have heard it before.
‘Ah,’ he breathed, a wealth of meaning she could not hope to interpret in the single exhalation. And then, very low, ‘I can never escape it, can I? Not even in bed with my wife, where I should be untroubled, if I can be untroubled anywhere.’
‘You know her?’
‘I’ve never met her. I am sure she cannot have claimed to have met me. If she did, she lied.’ His voice was like a whip-lash.
‘She did not say she had, unless she saw you when you were just an infant and she was married to Edward. What can she be to you, Richard?’
‘Nothing. Less than nothing.’ After a moment, he said bleakly, ‘There is no point trying to conceal from you the fact that I knew her husband. But if she has ever heard of me from him, it would have been by another name, an alias I always used, and so she would not have made the connection. He might easily have known my true identity, indeed I expect he did, but I very much doubt he would have shared it with her. What a hellish coincidence.’
‘I think she said, or implied, that he was a respectable tradesman in York, a living he took up after losing his position in society as a result of the revolution in France.’ When Richard did not reply to this, she said heavily, ‘Is that all he was? Or was he even that?’
‘Would you believe me if I said so – that he sold me a pair of riding boots when last I was in the north, or some such tale?’
He had not reacted as he had because the man had engaged him in some casual transaction of business, she was sure. ‘ShouldI believe you?’
He laughed mirthlessly. ‘It was not boots, at any event. He was a wine merchant, in fact, a very good one. I’d known him casually for years. He had all manner of connections across the Continent – Spain and Portugal, as well as France, with which country, of course, we do not legally trade at present. But if you wanted a fine French wine or brandy, even in these unsettled times, he would engage to obtain it for you, personally. He offered an excellent service to his customers. Nothing was too much trouble for Lesmire.’
