“Ah,” was all she said, but she made no move to leave, lapsing into silence again.
For some reason, Lance was reluctant to leave the matter there, with so much unsaid, unexplained. “He has had a difficult life, I think,” he said slowly.
“You think? You do not know?”
“I have never asked, but I am sure there has been some great tragedy in his life which affects him still.”
“It is a fortunate person indeed who suffers no tragedy in this uncertain life,” she said with unusual seriousness. “Those of us who are less fortunate must accept it and… and learn to live with it, however painful.”
“I beg your pardon! I did not mean— My words were careless. I would not for the world remind you of your grief.”
Her face softened. “I do not need words to remind me of my loss. My grief is with me every moment of every day. I even dream of him sometimes, and that is the cruellest cut, Mr Chamberlain, because then I wake happy, with the memory of my child heavy in my arms, only to discover that it is not true and he is still gone from me.”
Impulsively he reached down to squeeze her hand. “I am so very sorry, Lily. Was there nothing could be done to save him? The physicians had no cure?”
“He did not die of illness,” she said sorrowfully. “Perhaps that would have been easier to bear, for we are all vulnerable to fevers and infections, are we not? Yet he never had a day’s illness in all his life. Such a strong, healthy boy! So full of life and energy and curiosity! So full of energy that one day he escaped from his two nurses and ran away from them. And somehow he fell into the river and drowned.”
“Oh, dear God!” Lance cried, horrified. “Poor little boy! And yet a river is such a fascinating place to a child. I fell in a few times myself.”
“Exactly so. One cannot blame him for what is no more than the natural inquisitiveness of a child, and had he not tricked his nurses and escaped their watch, they would have got him out and no harm done. It was the gamekeeper, Ben Lovell, who saw his little body face down in the water and dived straight in to rescue him, yelling for help the whole time. He set up such a cry as everyone in the house could hear. But it was too late. There was nothing could be done to save my poor darling.”
“Did not the duke want to—? But forgive me, such questions are too personal. I have no business to pry.”
“Try again, you mean? Get me with child again? He decided against it. Our only agreement was for one son, or if the first should be a daughter, then one more child, and the duke is a man of honour, Lance. He holds to that agreement, and hands the torch to his cousin to continue the line. He has had three wives covering more than half a century, and if he has no living sons, then clearly God does not mean him to have an heir of his blood.”
“But he still has your charming company to brighten his old age,” Lance said quietly.
She smiled. “That was not part of our agreement. When Richard was born, the duke asked me if I wished to live apart from him, for he knows how this house depresses my spirits. Not the duke himself, who has never been less than a perfect gentleman towards me, but this house! I hate it so much. But I stayed for my son, and then, when he was taken from me and I thought to leave at last, the Merrington sisters arrived and brought friendship and joy to my life. My own sisters came and stayed with me a great deal, but they were as overwhelmed by Staineybank as I was. But the Merringtons are not cowed by thesize or scale of the place, or the army of servants, or the duke’s rank. I am happy here as long as they are here. I hope they never leave.”
“Then I hope it too, for your sake, duchess,” he said, lifting her hand to his lips. “We none of us know what the future will bring, but whatever yours has in store for you, I wish it may be very happy.”
***
Georgie was dreading the return to Staineybank. Jamie had dashed off a quick letter to the duke to inform him of the marriage, but they had decided not to stay on in Oxford, so there was a likelihood they would arrive home before the letter.
“Do you think they’ll be upset that we got married?” she said miserably, as the carriage edged its way out of Oxford in the pouring rain.
“The duke will not be upset or surprised, since I have already talked to him on the subject of matrimony, and as for the rest of the household — what does it matter? We did what we had to do, Georgie. My father… hmm, he might be surprised, but he knows I am not one to spill the secrets of the heart easily. I am rather reticent, after all.”
She chuckled. “Reticent? You’re shy, Jamie Hammond. No, no, don’t deny it. A man who won’t undress in front of his lawfully wedded wife is definitely shy.”
He blushed furiously, and snatched off his spectacles, pulling out a handkerchief to polish them. “Well… a little, perhaps, while all this husband and wife business is new to me. I have never shared a bedroom in my life before, but I dare say I shall grow accustomed to it by and by.”
Georgie chuckled again. “I’m sure you will, and I don’t think you’re finding marriage to be a horrid experience.”
He grinned. “Notveryhorrid, no. In fact, given enough time, I might even grow to like it a little.”
They both laughed, then she leaned up and kissed him on the nose. “I like it, too, rather a lot, actually.”
These moments of companionship were not quite enough to dispel all her fears, and by the time the carriage splashed up the Staineybank drive, for it was still raining, she was almost too terrified to move.
“Courage!” Jamie said, correctly interpreting her expression. “What is the worst they can do to us, after all?”
“Throw us out!” she whispered.
He shook his head gently. “The duke will not mind, and he is the only one with the power to throw us out. As for the others — why on earth should they care?”
She took a deep breath. “You’re right, of course. They might be surprised, but they’ll soon get used to the idea.”
