HisSophia? Well! If only it could be so, but although he was happy enough to oblige Juliet in most things, that was a step too far. But so tempting…his Sophia.How glorious that would be! When she was with her sisters, she was just one of a chattering mass of womanhood, but by herself, she was a peaceful and most agreeable companion. Unlike most of her sex, she was easy for him to talk to. That day when she had shown him around Staineybank, for instance, and listened with seeming interest toall his ramblings. Or the visit to the orangery at Marshfields, when she had filled him with ideas. Yes, she would make an excellent wife for him, and—
“Is it nearly finished, sir?” Sophia said, rousing him from these pleasant thoughts.
“Um… I believe so. What do you think? Have I captured your likenesses well enough?”
They praised his efforts with satisfactory enthusiasm, and it was Sophia who said, “You are so clever, Mr Payne. You have captured us to the life.”
He persuaded them to sign their names, each to her own likeness, and he was pleased to see that his guesses were correct. They whisked his sketchbook away to show it around the room, and he was left to himself for a while. He had been so engrossed that he had not noticed the other gentlemen returning, but now the room was noisily full, the card tables set out and all the places filled. The duke was smiling now, and the duchess was in good spirits, her companions keeping her well entertained.
After a while, one of the card tables broke up as Miss Hester Merrington and Mrs Hastings went off to check on the mother and infant, and ensure that Richard was not plaguing them too badly, and the Miss Merringtons got up a round game with Mr Godley and Mr Hammond. Mrs Merrington brought Simon’s sketch book back to him.
“What a talent you have, Mr Payne,” she said. “This is a charming composition. Would you consent to a framing, so that it might be hung on the wall for everyone to admire?”
“If you think it worthy of such treatment, ma’am, then I should be honoured.”
“You have not signed it yourself. Does not the artist always sign his work?”
“That squiggle in the corner is my sign — an ‘S’ and a ‘P’ combined.”
“Ah, I see it now. How ingenious! I thought that was just a part of Sophia’s necklace. Excellent! I shall ask Cousin Hester to recommend a framer, or perhaps Mr Hammond will know.” Almost without a pause, she went on, “Is Lady Juliet unwell?”
“Not that I know of,” he said, startled.
“Good. I wondered, you see, when she did not appear for dinner, but I am relieved to hear that all is well.”
She bustled away to join her daughters, leaving him puzzled. Juliet not at dinner? Now that he thought about it, there had been two empty chairs at the table. The new father was one of the absentees, dining with his wife, but had Juliet been the other? He could not recall seeing her at all that evening. After their altercation earlier that day, when she had talked about taking in lodgers, there had been no sign of her and that was most unlike her. In particular, she never missed a meal! What on earth had become of her?
He slipped out of the room and up the stairs to her room. When he knocked, a thread of a voice bade him enter. He found Juliet curled up on her bed, still in her day dress, her face white and wan.
“My dear, whatever is the matter? Are you ill?”
“No,” she whispered. “Not ill… I have received a blow, that is all. I shall make a recover before long.”
“What has happened? What can I do?”
“Nothing. There is nothing anyone can do.” She sat up abruptly. “The most dreadful thing, Simon. There, read that.”
She pushed an open book towards him.
“‘The English Peerage’?What are you—? Oh, it is Papa’s entry.‘James William Payne, Earl of Edlesborough, Viscount Kendle, Baron Landrick. Born… succeeded his father…’.Is there a point to this?”
“Read on.”
“Very well.‘Married Cecilia, eldest daughter of Sir Henry Rushbury of Shrewsbury, by whom he had issue Andrew, Viscount Kendle, Luke and Juliet.All your dates of birth are there. Well?”
“Read on.”
“Oh.‘…which marriage was dissolved by act of Parliament.’Good God! But… but shedied… so we thought. Dissolved! Great heavens! And you never suspected?”
“That my mother was divorced? No, I never suspectedthat!”she said, with such bitterness in her voice that he was shocked. “Aunt Tabitha always said that she died in childbed, and naturally I never enquired further. Why would I? It would not have occurred to me that she mightlieto me. And then, we never moved in the sort of circles where anyone would have known otherwise. I wonder if that was why I was sent away, so that I would not know the shame of my mother’s wickedness.”
“If so, it would have been the first time Papa ever did anything for the benefit of anyone but himself,” Simon said tartly. “More likely he simply wanted to remove any reminder of her. He could not get rid of the boys — his heirs, after all — but he could send his daughter away.”
“And then several years later, when the scandal had abated, he married again and had you and all the others. Oh, I forgot — that was why I was looking in the Peerage, to find out if we have any previously unsuspected brothers and sisters.”
“We do!” he said, looking down at the book again, surprised. “Mark and Ruth, aged twelve and six respectively, and two others who died as infants, not even named.”
“There might even be more,” she said. “The book is several years out of date.”
