“Ah, poor Diane,” Kitty said. “I hope she flew free in happiness for a while.” She turned to the second sheet.
We chose not to inform her husband that he was free to marry again. My husband had already informed Lord Dauntry that if he sought to divorce Diane, we would present her letters in court as evidence of her ill treatment. It would not have blocked a divorce, but it would have exposed him and his mother to the eyes of the world. In retaliation, he refused us all contact with Diane’s children.
“The dowager’s work,” Kitty said.
“Read on.”
If the viscount had known of my daughter’s death, he would have married again and we wished to prevent that. An unchristian attitude, I admit, but he deserved to suffer.
“He did,” Braydon said. “For allowing his mother’s actions.”
“She’s a hard woman to oppose.”
“One only needs a spine.”
However, your letter alerted us to the fact that there is a new Viscount Dauntry of only the remotest connection to Diane’s persecutors, who perhaps should know the facts. Sir Allenby still wished to ignore your request for information, but I felt itright that the truth be recorded now that it can do no harm. My poor daughter lived less than a year after leaving her husband. She died on board a ship to America on the eighth of August, 1808.
Lady Allenby had simply signed her name at the end.
“How sad,” Kitty said, refolding the letter. “I’d hoped for better.”
“So much unhappiness sprung from one woman.”
“But the dowager might not have been so ruinous if her husband and children had lived.”
“Wounds do not excuse viciousness.”
“At least now we know, and the events are all in the past. Can we hope for a simpler future?”
“I think we can.”
His tone alerted her. “What?”
“Heaven has smiled on me after all, and on you, I hope. Will you weep tears if you are not Viscountess Dauntry?”
“Of course not, but how?”
“If Diane truly did die in 1808, my predecessor’s marriage to Dorothy could be legal.”
Kitty stared at him. “Not bigamy at all?”
“As long as he married in proper form, using his real name, and it seems he did. It will depend upon the date. Dorothy mentioned the king being unwell at the time but not known to be mad, so before the Regency in 1811, and probably before 1810.”
“Your memory again. But I can add something. She mentioned Alfred talking to her father about the Battle of Talavera. When they first met.”
“Did she, by gad! My brilliant darling. That nails it. Talavera was July 1809, after Diane’s death.”
“We’re free?”
“As good as.” He was actually grinning. “It will haveto go before the courts and the College of Heralds, but I see no reason that little Johnie shouldn’t be accepted in due course as the sixth Viscount Dauntry, replacing me.”
“Oh, but should we inflict that on him?”
He chuckled. “Such horror over a title. In fact, we have no choice. If the truth ever comes out—and why shouldn’t it?—the situation would be more complicated than it is now. I judge Dorothy to be strong enough to withstand the shock, especially with our help, and the lad is promising. I’ll stand patron to John, Lord Dauntry, and arrange for his schooling.”
“Away from the Abbey.”
“Precisely.”
