Henrietta shook her head vehemently but did not speak. Taking a deep breath, her mother ploughed on. ‘I have to confess I’ve found the man nigh on impossible to read, but still, your father and I were very much under the impression he returned your feelings. That’s the only reason we did not act. Were we wrong?’ She guided Henrietta to the large chair by the fire and knelt at her feet, a sudden thought occurring. ‘You are not with child, are you, dearest?’
Henrietta looked at her mother incredulously through her tears. ‘No,’ she managed, dashing at her eyes. The question had the desired effect, however, and her crying dwindled to sniffing as she accepted her mother’s kerchief to mop up her face. After another five minutes, she gave a sad chuckle. ‘No, I am not with child,’ she repeated with a sigh. ‘In fact, chance would have been a fine thing.’
Taken aback at her daughter’s directness, Faith rocked back on her heels. In truth, she had no answer to that. In fairness, it was almost heartening to know Henrietta was a chip off the old block…
‘You look like a fish, Mama,’ Henri observed drily and seconds later, both women unexpectedly dissolved into giggles, breaking the barrier that had somehow come between them.
In between sniffs, Henrietta finally confessed everything to her mother. ‘While we were still in the chateau, Raphael admitted that he loves me, Mama,’ she admitted finally, ‘and though I’ve heard nothing from him since we returned, I don’t believe he was playing me false.’
‘He has had much to deal with,’ Faith commented gently.
Henrietta nodded. ‘I know. And I also know that I sound like a whingeing child. But I’m not, Mama. I’m fully aware of just how difficult it will be for him to extract himself from the world he’s been in for so long...’ She stopped and gave a despairing shrug before adding, ‘I’m just so afraid that as long as we’re apart, he’ll forget why he wanted to leave it.’
With a sigh, Faith climbed to her feet and went to ring for some tea. ‘The wedding is in two weeks time,’ she declared, sitting in the chair opposite. ‘He will be there. You can write to him in the meantime, but – and I hate to say this, sweetheart, but I feel I must – I believe youbothneed some time apart to think. Your relationship has had no chance to develop normally…’ She paused and gave a small laugh. ‘In truth, it was exactly the same for your father and me. We had some time without each other after the danger had passed, and I…’ She stopped again as the door opened to admit Mrs Bellamy carrying a tray of tea and biscuits.
Sensing there was more to her mother’s speech than just ‘wait,’ Henrietta watched impatiently as the housekeeper poured the tea. Fortunately, Faith waited only until the door was closed before continuing.
‘As I said, the wedding is two weeks away, and Raphael Augustin will be there,’ Faith continued minutes later. ‘I have said you need time to think, and I truly believe that. Buttoo muchtime will be worse. If your feelings are still as strong when you see him at the wedding, don’t wait, Henri. Go ahead and damn well seduce him.’ It was Henrietta’s turn to stare at her mother in open-mouthed surprise. ‘And, whatever you do,don’tlet him convince himself that he’s not good for you…’
‘Ah cannae deny ah’ll be glad tae get back tae Caerlaverock,’ Dougal mused. ‘But ah reckon the weddin’ be a braw way tae finish ma trip off.’ They were sitting in the vicarage parlour enjoying a rather nice bottle of best French brandy – a parting gift from the Montclair cellars. Or rather, Dougal was enjoying it – the Reverend had managed barely more than a glass.
‘You don’t have to wait until the deuced wedding,’ the clergyman muttered as he watched the Scot help himself to yet another tipple.
‘Ah wouldnae miss it fer the world,’ Dougal grinned, sitting back down with a sigh. ‘Ah be grateful tae ye, Augustus, fer showin’ me true that some Sassenachs be more than lyin’, thievin’, heathens.’
‘Think nothing of it,’ the Reverend commented sourly. He looked up at a sudden crash coming from upstairs, wondering what Agnes had smashed now.
She hadn’t spoken to him since discovering he’d gone to France without her, and Dougal’s comment about her mere presence setting back Anglo-French relationships thirty years certainly hadn’t helped the matter. So now she wasn’t speaking to either of them.
Which simply proved to the Reverend that the Almighty always provided a silver lining along with every problem – since he’d only have to speak to Dougal between now and the wedding.
He just hoped Agnes wouldn’t break his entire collection of snuffboxes in the meantime.
Twenty-Two
‘Ah cannae believe the King himself be here,’ Finn breathed in awe as he watched his majesty take his place near the front of the church. ‘Who be that cove wi’ him?’
‘I think that’s the King’s Gentleman Usher - Lord Castleford,’ Percy answered.
‘What be one o’ them?’ the boy asked, peering at the ramrod back sitting close to the King.
‘He serves in the Royal household,’ Lizzy explained and ‘looks after the King.’
‘But he be aLord,’ Finn retorted, giving his mother a puzzled look. ‘Ah niver kenned a Lord tae be lookin efter the King, even if hebethe King.’
‘It’s a very privileged position,’ his father explained. ‘Lord Castleton is a very fortunate man.’
‘Ah dinnae think he be fortunate tae be wiping the King’s arse,’ Finn scoffed.
‘Finn!’ Lizzy admonished the boy in a heated whisper. ‘That’s quite enough. No more speaking.’
Raphael wasn’t sure whether it was the presence of the King that had resulted in Northwood’s church being filled to bursting, or the fact that word of the young Marquis de Montclair’s return had got out much more rapidly than they’d imagined. Either way, the number of guests far outstripped the church’s capacity, and a goodly number of them certainly hadn’t been invited – including his majesty.
Rafe gritted his teeth. The whole affair was rapidly becoming an operational nightmare, prompting the Viscount to growl that even if the Queen of bloody Sheba arrived wanting to attend the wedding breakfast, she was to be turned away. It was family only – except for the King, of course.
The King’s agent looked round the beautiful old church. Originally built in Norman times, it had been in almost continual use by the Atwood family, and despite the crush, it still held a hushed peace in its very stones. Reverend Shackleford was already up in the pulpit, getting ready to conduct his granddaughter’s wedding, and Rafe’s chest tightened as he inevitably wondered whether the old priest would officiate at Henrietta’s too.
Would it be with him?
