Page 12 of The Marquess’s Forbidden Bride

‘We are eager to hear as much as you wish to impart,’ Lady Englemere said.

Still restless, Charles wished he might pace the room, but that would be both impolite and distracting. Choosing a chair a little apart from the company where he could observe his aunt and also, covertly, Miss Wellingford, he sat, willing himself to calm.

How would Miss Wellingford view him once she’d heard the tale? Would she relegate him to the ranks of the ‘titled men’ she disdained? Hopefully, having known him as a mere lieutenant, his new status wouldn’t alter the friendship developing between them. He felt strongly attracted to her, and though neither of them presently contemplated matrimony, he wanted to continue pursuing the acquaintance.

‘I’ll begin at the beginning, then,’ Miss Carlbrooke said. ‘Charles’s mother and I were the daughters of a country gentleman of modest means and a Season in London was far beyond our reach. As we had no interest in wedding any of the local boys and there were four younger siblings at home, at eighteen, I took a position as companion to Lady Ellington, a widow of ample fortune and a year later, Laura, Charles’s mother, hired herself out as governess to the Marquess of Richland’s daughters. Richland had two sons, John, the heir, and Julian, both at university. During summer holidays that first year, Laura and Julian spent much time together and fell in love—that was the summer of 1788. After Julian returned to university, they secretly corresponded. When he returned in the summer of 1789 and Julian’s mother discovered the affaire, Laura was dismissed. But Julian, who truly loved her, refused to give her up. Breaking with the family, after obtaining a position as secretary to a nobleman in Lincolnshire, he tracked Laura to our parents’ home and married her in our parish church that fall. They lived in modest lodgings in the hamlet of Collingville near his employer’s estate, having no contact with Julian’s family. Then in the summer of 1790, Julian’s father sent word that John had been killed in a carriage accident and begged Julian, now his heir, to return home. Not wanting to complicate an already difficult family situation, Laura insisted on remaining in Collingville while her husband returned to Stratton Hall, agreeing to join Julian once everything was sorted out. They wrote often, Julian believing as he took up the heir’s responsibilities that his family’s opposition to their marriage was gradually softening…until in late January of 1791, her letters stopped. I, too, was worried when I didn’t hear from her for more than a month. The weather being dreadful that winter, there was no way I could leave Lady Ellington’s estate in Northumberland to check on her.’

His aunt paused, her eyes in the far distance. A moment later, she continued, ‘I was already worried when I received a distraught note from Julian. As soon as the roads were passable, he returned to Collingville—only to discover that in late January, Laura had set out for Stratton Hall. The livery company from which she’d hired a post-chaise informed Julian there had been an accident, regretfully revealing that the young traveller and all who accompanied her had been killed. He rode immediately to the village where the accident occurred, desperately hoping the livery owner was mistaken.’

‘Management of the inn where Laura was brought had been turned over to a new owner, who hadn’t been present at the time of the accident. Having heard only second-hand about the tragedy, there was little he could tell Julian. He then called at the local church, where the curate showed him to a grave at the churchyard—the grave of an unknown gentlewoman—and confirmed that the woman buried there had died after a coach accident. Forced to accept the truth, near mad with grief and pain, he returned to Stratton Hall, where he wrote to inform me of her death.’

‘But why was he not told that she’d borne a child?’ Lady Englemere asked.

Miss Carlbrooke shook her head. ‘The new manager of the inn knew only that the lady had died there. At the time Julian visited the village, the priest who had attended Laura and arranged for the Marsdens to take her newborn child was away on leave, caring for his ailing parents. To protect the reputation of the poor dead lady, he had never revealed to his curate or anyone else that she’d borne a child. The innkeeper at the time of her death, fearing the news would create an unwelcome scandal at almost the moment he intended to sell his business, was only too happy to remain silent. Discovering her secret after being asked to attend Laura, Mrs Marsden sent the maid to bed and remained alone to attend her. Thus, only the innkeeper, the vicar and the Marsdens knew of the child’s existence.’

‘A series of mischances indeed!’ Lord Englemere marvelled.

‘I’m sure Laura would have written to inform us of her travel plans; I can only imagine that, in the dreadful weather, the letters went astray. I can understand that she wanted to wait and inform Julian about the child face-to-face. In any event, unaware that he had a son, Julian returned to Stratton Hall. Though I believe he mourned my sister for the rest of his life, knowing his duty as heir, he agreed to an arranged marriage with Margaret Beallaugh in 1793. She produced a daughter, Anne, in 1794 and then in 1796, a son, George, whom everyone believed was the heir. When Julian’s father died in 1802, he became Marquess of Richland. And when Julian passed six years ago, his son George became the new marquess. As he was only fourteen, the estate duties were assumed by his trustees, who continue to handle them, as George is at university and will not come of age until next year.’

‘How did the truth become known, then?’ Miss Wellingford burst out.

‘Another happenstance. Lady Ellington passed away last year, leaving me a small competence. After settling her affairs, I made a pilgrimage to my sister’s grave. Julian, in his grief, had left the grave unmarked, as he’d found it, but I wished to have a proper tombstone erected. The new curate referred me to the priest, long since returned to his duties. When I produced evidence of my sister’s and my own identity, he was quite obviously troubled. Finally, after much reflection, he revealed that she’d borne a child. He was quite reluctant at first to provide me any more information—the babe, if he’d survived, would by now be a man grown and had been raised as the son of the family that adopted him. He wasn’t sure it was wise to disrupt the life of the boy or his adoptive parents. Until I explained just who Charles was. Knowing it was the duty of the rightful heir to claim the title, he wrote out for me a document testifying to the child’s birth. After obtaining a copy of the parish entry recording Laura and Julian’s marriage, I travelled to see John and Amy Marsden, who confirmed all the vicar had related to me about Charles’s birth. Both happy for him and apprehensive about what the change would mean, his adoptive parents agreed to say nothing until I sorted out the legalities. Late last year, I turned over all the documents to the Committee for Privileges, which judged them valid and pronounced Charles, as the first legitimate son of the late Marquess, to be the rightful heir to the title. Not wishing to upset everyone prematurely, I waited until Charles returned safely with his regiment from the war. But now, he is safely home. And he is the rightful marquess.’

Silence reigned for some moments after his aunt concluded her tale.

‘On the one hand,’ Charles said, too tense to allow the silence to continue, ‘I can’t but be glad to discover family, a blood family, about whom I’d never known and always wondered. On the other hand, I could almost wish the legal documents to disappear. I’m not so sure I want to be Marquess of Richland. I much prefer being simple Charles Marsden, soldier and adopted son of a gentleman, heir to Harding Glen.’ He sighed. ‘I suppose there’s no chance of that now.’

Lord Englemere shook his head. ‘You could refuse to take up the title, but that would not change the fact that it is legally yours. The second son—George, is it?—would not be allowed to use it, and with your legal claim established, your stepbrother’s trustees could no longer administer the estate. You could decline to shoulder the responsibility for managing the inheritance, but such neglect would injure both the estate and all those who work it and depend upon its income. Property must be tended. But as you expected one day to administer a property—albeit a smaller one—you are not totally unprepared for the role.’

‘Not completely,’ Charles agreed. He gave them a rueful smile. ‘Though I doubt I’m going to be welcomed with open arms by the heir I’m displacing—or his family.’

Miss Carlbrooke sniffed. ‘If that family had accepted Laura as your father’s wife from the first, instead of deeming her not worthy to wed the son of a marquess, all this could have been avoided. She and Julian would have been married from Stratton Hall, resided there; you would have been born there. Julian would never have needed to marry again. And perhaps, cared for by a loving husband, my sister might not have died alone, tended only by st-strangers,’ she finished, her voice breaking.

Before anyone could offer soothing words, recovering her composure, his aunt said, ‘But there is nothing for it now. The old marquess and his wife who disdained Laura are gone. Yes, the news will come as a shock to Julian’s second wife and her son. I’m sure they will consult the family solicitors to explore if they might disqualify Charles’s claim. But in the end, unfair as it might seem to them, they will have to accept it.’

‘Hopefully you will come to an amicable reconciliation,’ Lady Englemere said. ‘Once your right to the title is known, Lieutenant, all of Society will acknowledge you. Lady Richland and her son would be foolish to attempt to disparage you, at least publicly, regardless of their feelings, for though others might be sympathetic about Lord George’s sudden change of status, no one would support them against the rightful marquess.’

‘The estate is said to be a wealthy one. I’m sure Charles will make a handsome provision for the displaced family,’ his aunt said.

‘Though her son is no longer heir, the current Lady Richland is the late marquess’s legal widow,’ Lord Englemere said. ‘There will almost certainly have been provisions made for her in the marriage settlements. It will likely only be the son—and there was a daughter, too, you said?—for whom new arrangements will have to be made.’

‘The daughter, Lady Anne, is now married to Lord Routham, so she is unlikely to require any assistance,’ Miss Carlbrooke said.

Charles shook his head. ‘It seems fantastical to be discussing the title, the estates and provisions. Of course, I don’t wish the current Stratton family to suffer for my existence. None of them still living ever wished harm to me—or my mother.’

His aunt, apparently still angry about her sister’s rejection, said stiffly, ‘I’m sure you will do what is fair.’

Charles looked at her with affection. ‘I appreciate all the effort you have gone to on my behalf, Aunt Carlbrooke. I will not let that hard work come to nothing, whatever…unpleasantness may result. Much as I might like to, I’ll not refuse the title or ignore its responsibilities. I can’t change or rectify what my mother suffered, but I can make it right. Vindicate her. And I will. Whatever the cost.’

Lord Englemere shook his head. ‘An astounding tale! So the Stratton family is not yet aware of the changes?’

‘Not yet,’ his aunt said. ‘I thought it only right to inform Charles first before approaching the Strattons. I have an appointment with the marchioness tomorrow. I, too, doubt she will take very well the news that her son’s position has been usurped by a child about whose existence she knew nothing, but true and legal is true and legal. And selfishly, I cannot rest until I see Laura’s son restored to the position that is rightfully his, whatever the feelings of the family that rejected her.’

‘A…delicate situation indeed,’ Englemere said ruefully.

‘You’ve been kind enough to offer Charles your aid,’ his aunt continued. ‘I hope you will support him in this change. He will be just as much in need of allies.’

‘I’ll certainly support what is right,’ Englemere said.