“But you didn’t think it worth mentioning at the hearing?”
“Not really, no. If your marriage is to be annulled, that is for an ecclesiastical court to decide. Besides, I was not sure you would wish it aired in public. And...”
Sir John’s eyes glinted. “And you didn’t wish to reveal it for personal reasons.”
“I cannot deny it hindered me for a time, yes.”
Sir John crossed his arms. “Then why tell me now?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do. And I wouldn’t want Miss Rogers to ... regret any decision she might make, without knowing all the facts.”
Sir John met and held his gaze, expression alight with understanding.
Marianna lifted her chin. “I have done nothing illegal. It was all my father’s doing.”
James shook his head. “I disagree. I think you are guilty of the very charges you tried to lay at Miss Rogers’s door. And worse. For you entered a second marriage contract, knowing you were already legally bound to another man. That is bigamy as well as fraud.” James’s ears pricked up at the sound of stealthy footsteps approaching the room.
“Do you not concur, Mr. Fontaine?”
Anthony Fontaine paused on the threshold and leaned against the doorframe. “Indeed, I do.”
Sir John stepped forward. “How dare you enter my house?”
Fontaine’s eyes flashed. “How dare you marry my wife?”
Sir John threw up his hands. “Can this day get any worse?” He shot Marianna a contemptuous look before turning back to Fontaine. “I had no idea she was married to you, if that is indeed true. While apparently you have known all along and never bothered to protest before—before our engagement or wedding. Why start now?”
“Revenge, I suppose.” Fontaine casually crossed his arms. “I thought to myself, what is good for the goose must be good for the gander. But when Marianna heard I was wooing an heiress, she quickly squashed that relationship by sending an anonymous letter to the girl, letting her know I was already married. The girl cried off, taking her money with her.” He shook his head. “And after I’d been so understanding about Marianna and her knight.”
“Understanding?” Marianna sneered. “You were the first to agree when Papa proposed the scheme. I would never have gone along with it, had you not persuaded me to do so. How I longed for you to throw Papa’s plan back in his face and tell him no one could have me, save you. I would have defied him, had you stood by me. But you never could say no to money.”
Fontaine shrugged and gave them a self-satisfied smile. “I can’t deny it. It’s part of my charm, apparently.”
James shook his head in disgust. Anthony Fontaine had initially been reluctant to accompany him to Devonshire, but finding the threatening letter he’d sent to Sir John in the solicitor’s possession had convinced him. Now, James Lowden looked from the smirking dandy to the vain adulteress and thought they made a well-matched pair. For the first time, he felt true sympathy for his client. And he was glad he’d uncovered the truth at last....
James had waited in the dim parlor of the Red Lion, with its smoky fire and men in low conversation all around him. Right on schedule, the coachman, Tim Banks, appeared. James bought the man a pint and the two found a quiet corner.
Banks took a long drink, then began. “I was there, see, the night Mr. Spencer realized his daughter had up and left his house. He guessed straightaway which way the wind blew, and lost no time in calling for his coach and fastest horses. It was me at the reins, and the groom, Joe, alongside. We heard the old man swearing and shouting orders and had little doubt what had happened—his daughter, the spoiled Marianna, had gone off and eloped with Mr. Fontaine, against her father’s express orders to stop seeing him and marry the man he had chosen for her.”
“Sir John.”
“Right. So with Mr. Spencer and his spinster aunt in tow, we went charging out of the city on a direct course for Scotland. We drove day and night, only stopping to change horses. Joe and I took turns driving while the other tried to get a bit of sleep without being tossed to the ground.”
“When we finally crossed the border and reached Gretna Green, we stopped at the blacksmith’s shop. Mr. Spencer, his aunt beside him, asked where they might find a man who performedmarriages. I was supposed to wait with the coach, but I left Joe with the horses and went to listen at the blacksmith’s door. I was curious. After all, had I not just ridden at breakneck speed and barely slept for days to do whatever it was Mr. Spencer was determined to see done?”
The coachman took another drink of his ale. “The parson was called for and soon arrived. At least he called himself a parson, but didn’t look like no parson I’d ever seen. You know in Scotland, any man can set himself up as a minister of weddings. No banns required, no license. Only two witnesses. Had himself a tidy little business from the looks of things. Even kept a room in a nearby inn they called ‘the nuptial chamber’ where couples might consummate their marriage quick-like afterward, to deter an angry father who might otherwise try to undo the marriage. Mr. Spencer asked the man if he kept any record of the marriages he performed, or sent any notice to the registrar. The man said he kept a book for his own records, but did not feel bound to notify the parish, since so many of the couples he wed lived elsewhere. He did say he provided any couple who wanted one—and had a shilling to pay—with a certificate of their marriage.”
The coachman slowly shook his head.
“Then I heard Mr. Spencer tell the supposed parson a tale of woe as I’ve never heard! Why, I barely recognized my master’s voice, so grieved was he. Would he not spare the reputation, nay the life, of his one and only daughter? She and the young man had realized the folly of their ways, he declared. And, filled with remorse, the repentant children had not even consummated the marriage after they’d said their vows. Could the good man not find it in his heart to rub out that entry in his records ... a spill of ink would do the trick, and no one would be the wiser. Might a donation to his ‘ministry’ be unwelcome?
“I was nearly sick to hear him. Especially since we had not even found Marianna yet. And even if Mr. Spencer succeededin having the record blotted out, there was no erasing the fact that the couple had been alone together—first in a post-chaise, then at an inn—for two or three days and nights.” Again, Banks shook his head. “The parson agreed out of thevastgoodness of his heart—and Mr. Spencer’s purse.
“Afterward we went to the inn. When we arrived, Mr. Spencer bade me come in with him, blunderbuss in hand, in case Mr. Fontaine raised a violent objection. We found the happy couple upstairs, lodging under an assumed name. The picture of connubial bliss, I might add. How Mr. Spencer shouted. Marianna shouted back, waving the marriage certificate in her father’s face. He grabbed it from her, crumpled it, and flung it out the window. Then he thought the better of it and sent me to collect it so he could dispose of it more permanent-like. I ran down and collected the crumpled thing. When I returned, Mr. Spencer told me to toss it into the fire. Then he told me to wait outside. I left, hearing his voice change from shouting to cajoling to wheedling, though I did not hear the details of what he said.”
Banks paused, looking up at the hop-strewn beams above them as he reviewed the memory in his mind. “An hour later, Marianna emerged from the inn, pale, packed, and dressed, and climbed inside the coach with her aunt and father. Mr. Fontaine watched her leave from the inn doorway, oddly calm about the whole affair. Which made me suppose Mr. Spencer had promised him a great deal of money to forget the thing ever happened. Later I heard he paid his aunt a handsome sum to spread the tale that she’d escorted Marianna on some sightseeing trip, to cover for her absence.”
The coachman cringed. “He gave Joe and me money too. Bonuses for the long trip and for our discretion in keeping to ourselves the ‘unfortunate events’ of the previous few days ’til the grave. Joe, I know, has done so, for he has a wife and five children to support and couldn’t afford to lose his place.”
