“No, not yet. It is not about the murder.”
Izzy made a strangled noise in her throat. “Justtellme!”
“Amongst his papers was a letter from Winchester, suggesting that Nicholson had not been ordained there. Your father has made enquiries, and it appears that Nicholson was never ordained as a clergyman at all.”
Izzy laughed. “The old rogue! I always thought there was something not right about him. So he has been sitting pretty all these years, has he, married to Aunt Alice, his feet well and truly under the table, and acting as our chaplain when he was not even a clergyman?”
“Do you understand what that means, Izzy? He was not entitled to conduct marriages.”
“Nonsense! He married us, as I am sure you will remember. Ithinkyou were there at the time.”
“Yes, he married us, but he was not qualified to do so. It means our marriage isinvalid, Izzy. That is the law. A marriage can only be valid if it is conducted by an ordained clergyman. Weare not married, and the girls are illegitimate. Now you must not panic about this, because we can set most of it right. We can go to town and get a special licence so the marriage, at least, will be on a proper footing. The girls… there is nothing to be done about that, but—”
“Ian, I know you have very little humour, but is this your idea of a jest?”
“I only wish it were. But if we—”
She was breathing heavily now, almost quivering as emotions boiled up in her. “That man has been chaplain at Corland Castle forever — since long before I was born.Of coursehe is ordained! How can he be chaplain otherwise?”
“I cannot say how it came about. It was your grandfather who engaged him. He must have taken Nicholson’s word for it that he was ordained.”
“And no one checked?Younever checked before we were married by some… somecharlatan!”Her voice was rising now, and her pacing had diminished to angry twitches from side to side. “How could youdothis to me? How could you expose me to the ridicule of the world? I shall never, ever be able to hold my head up in society again. To be…unmarriedand yet the mother of two children — it is… Ian Farramont, you were supposed to shelter me from the world and keep me safe, and you haveruinedme! You have taken everything from me — my very position in society is gone! I am no one!”
“Temporarily,” he said, placatingly. “You will be Lady Farramont again in just a few days, as soon as we can get a special licence.”
“But I amnotLady Farramont!” she wailed. “How can you humiliate me like this? I amnothingwithout my title. At least I still have my birth title. I am still Lady Isabel Atherton.”
“No,” he said firmly, for she had to be made to understand the enormity of the disaster. “No, because Nicholson marriedyour parents, too. They are not married, either, and all their children are illegitimate.Youare illegitimate.”
Izzy screamed. With one delicate hand, she swept everything within reach from Ian’s desk, so that they fell to the floor in a great clatter of books, the standish, the wooden boxes holding paper and the metal stand used to melt sealing wax. Then she screamed again. The terrestrial globe was next, kicked across the room by a daintily booted foot. The silver salver on the sideboard was hurled at the window, but fortunately fell short, then she toppled a small table heaped in books.
Ian waited patiently, ready to step in only if Izzy seemed likely to hurl herself through a window. He had learnt very early in their marriage to keep out of her way when these storms overtook her, as well as the wisdom of locking away decanters and wine glasses, and moving anything to which one was attached out of reach.
Eventually, she collapsed like a burst balloon, sinking to her knees on the floor. Then she lifted her head and howled in impotent rage.
2: Corland Castle
Izzy retreated to the safety of her own apartments. The carriage was sent away, and Ian had sent off a note to the Cotterills, although what he had said she neither knew nor cared. Indisposition, perhaps, or a family crisis. He had gone haring off to town to get a special licence, leaving her on her own. How dared he go away? Howdaredhe, and even expected her to go with him! Go to town after this? She would never be able to show her face in town again.
She paced about her sitting room like the lion she had seen once in the menagerie at the Tower of London. Up and down, back and forth it had gone, twitching its tail as it went. If Izzy had had a tail, she would have twitched it, too. How dared Ian inflict this humiliation on her? She had trusted him, and he had failed her utterly. And her father, too. The two men in her life who should have looked after her, and now she was in this hideous position whiletheywere unscathed. Papa was still Lord Rennington and Ian was still Lord Farramont, but she was nothing! Her daughters — her sweet, innocent girls— were nothing, too. And for all Ian insisted there would be no difference in their lives, everything would go on just as it had and they would have the full dowries he had set aside for them, that was nonsense. Izzy knew perfectly well the difference between legitimate daughters and illegitimate. Nogoodfamily would contract an alliance with them. Their whole lives were ruined.
Inside her, rage still simmered, never quite boiling over, but not subsiding either. Brandon lurked in the dressing room, asking periodically if Izzy wanted anything, but what she wanted was not anything that Brandon could supply. Not a tisane, or a lavender-soaked handkerchief for her forehead. Nor a different gown, or a bowl of soup, or a fast, hard ride on Nightstar — all of these things Brandon could arrange. But for this nightmare to go away, for her to be Lady Farramont again, and her daughters the Honourable Miss Farramont and the Honourable Miss Aurelia Farramont, no, Brandon could not do that.
How was it possible that her life could come crashing down so abruptly and spectacularly? Surely it was not possible. It must be some kind of mistake. Papa had got muddled again or had not been attending properly and had taken a wrong idea. It couldnotbe so awful as it appeared… could it?
Mama would know. Mama was the sensible one of the family. She would write to Mama, and explain how impossible it all was, and Mama would laugh and tell her not to worry, all would be well.
She sat down at her escritoire and began to write.
***
JULY
Ian’s journey to London was, he supposed, no worse than usual. He travelled the route regularly enough to be afamiliar figure at all the coaching inns where he changed horses or stayed overnight, so he was always attended to swiftly and efficiently. Nor were the roads especially bad. Yet he was in such a fever of impatience that he could not bear even the trivial delays which beset them, when they were obliged by the narrowness of a bridge to wait their turn, or the toll-gate keeper was slow to respond.
Then he spent two infuriating days, trying to convince the obtuse personages at Doctor’s Commons of his need for a special licence. Another day was lost to the Sabbath. It was only when he lost his temper completely and stormed into Lambeth Palace, insisting on seeing the Archbishop of Canterbury personally, that he made any progress. The Archbishop had already received word from his counterpart in York, and knew the situation. The special licence was issued within the hour.
Another two days brought him back to Stonywell, where Henry came out to greet his return.
