Page 19
Charlotte’s quiet voice cut through his reverie. ‘So my mother was loved by my father?’
Lord Rokeby looked at her and a fleeting softness suffused his features. ‘I believe so, Miss Blythe.’
‘That means a great deal to me. Thank you.’ She smiled. ‘Do you know where she is now? I hope to find her too.’
He shifted in his chair and Achille raised his head from the footstool at the Earl’s feet. ‘Your birth was unexpected and there was quite a stir in the servants’ quarters. As your presence could no longer be kept a secret, the butler thought it his duty to tell my fierce papa. I’m afraid the old Earl decreed that the infant should be left on the Vicarage doorstep and that Charles should be immediately despatched to the army. He purchased a commission for his son and heir in the 15th King’s Regiment. Your mother was dismissed and placed in another noble house in London, and my brother went to war.’
‘So in one fell swoop you lost your brother, and Charlotte lost her mother and father.’ Leonora shivered.
‘Indeed. But with a family like mine, the individuals are not important; it is the family, its name, history and land that matter. And no one is allowed to risk that, even such a favourite son as Charles.’
‘So, after eighteen years of silence and ignorance as to my parentage, why tell me now?’ Charlotte had recovered her poise and forgotten her shyness, so great was her desire to know.
‘I followed my brother into the regiment as soon as I could.’ His face darkened with the memory. ‘Then five years ago, mortally injured in the field of battle, Charles imparted to me his most urgent wishes. I had to find you and tell you the truth.’ He was watching Charlotte’s face closely. ‘He had intended to do so when you were grown but of course never returned. I was then captured and only now have the opportunity to relay his instructions.’ He got to his feet. ‘Before I continue, come and see your father’s portrait.’
Leonora and Charlotte followed him to the picture gallery they had passed as they entered the house. Walking into the long room washed with light from two great Elizabethan windows, they were presented with the grandeur of oak-panelled walls hung with ancestral portraits. Pale faces loomed out of dark interiors, stiff complex ruffs giving way as they moved through the centuries to waterfalls of snowy lace for the men and sumptuous silk and creamy bosoms for the women. The sunlight filtered through in bands, dust motes dancing in the air, and the atmosphere was heavy with history and the past lives of those who had gone before, a great continuum of Rokebys watching their progress down the room.
They stopped in front of a life-size portrait hung over the grand fireplace. Leonora and Charlotte gazed up into the proud face of Charles Rokeby in full Light Dragoons uniform, mounted on his black charger. They could not suppress a gasp of surprise and wonder. The young man was indeed handsome, a certain swagger in his inky eyes, his dark hair mostly covered by an impressive Tarleton cap of black silk and fur, chained in silver with a snowy white plume of feathers. His dolman was blue and also braided in silver, his fur-lined pelisse slung over his left shoulder. He looked magnificent, as the artist intended, a young man astride not just his war horse but the world he inhabited, a misty vision of Rokeby Abbey, its ruins and parkland behind him.
Leonora looked from the portrait to the new Earl and said, ‘It’s clear he’s your brother.’
A swift grimace crossed his face. ‘I’m glad you think so, Miss Appleby, even after the depredations of war.’
Lord Rokeby then led the way to the library where he gestured to the chairs on the other side of the desk while he withdrew some papers from the central drawer. Leonora was not immune to the attractions of the room. It smelt of leather, dust and woodsmoke. The walls were lined in dark oak shelves interrupted with regular reeded piers surmounted by carved heads of horses. Serried ranks of leather spines added their fascination. So many worlds, so many lives contained within their pages, within this room. She felt a flutter of excitement. How she longed to explore its treasures, but Lord Rokeby’s voice returned her to the momentous matter in hand.
‘Miss Blythe, I am pleased to welcome you to the Rokeby family; in fact, as my niece – as novel a thought for me as it must be for you.’
He sat down and passed a document across to her. ‘Charles’s dying wish was that you should be introduced to our grandmother, the Countess of Bucklebury, who has a house in Brook Street in Mayfair. He wanted you to have a Season in Town, sponsored by her. He was her favourite and she is keen to meet you.’
Charlotte was overwhelmed with the thought of being presented to London Society. Nothing had been further from her mind and she felt utterly ill-equipped for such an ordeal. She stuttered, ‘Sir, I am so unprepared. I never dreamed of such a future.’
Lord Rokeby looked at her closely. ‘Can you dance, and engage in light inconsequential conversation? It would help if you can play the piano-forte passably and sing a little.’
Leonora was less shocked than Charlotte by this suggestion. Once she knew of her friend’s noble parentage, she had expected that she would be launched on Society in some way as befitted her family’s rank. She leant forward and said, ‘Miss Blythe is a fine musician and can both play and sing. I have been teaching her these last five years.’
His dark gaze settled on Leonora’s face. ‘Then I am confident she will be most proficient in the drawing room arts.’
‘I have had dancing lessons too. Mama Mildmay has been scrupulous in her care of me.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. My brother assured me he left instructions with his banker, Drummonds, to send the Reverend a yearly sum for your upkeep. Drummonds are noted for their discretion in such matters.’ He then pushed the piece of paper across the desk towards Charlotte. ‘I would like you to read this and if you agree, I will ask the local attorney to attend. This too is your father’s wish that you should have a dowry of ten thousand pounds.’
Charlotte gasped. She had never even heard talk of such a fortune before and for it to be attached to her on the occasion of her marriage astonished and alarmed her. ‘But my lord, that is beyond imagination!’ Her hands had flown to her cheeks which were rosy with the emotion of the afternoon.
‘It’s a generous portion, but not too generous for the daughter of an Earl with a significant estate.’
‘But I am not his legitimate daughter.’
‘No, but I am proud to belong to a family which historically has treated its irregular progeny as if they were legitimate.’
Leonora knew that Charlotte was overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation and so felt she herself should point out certain practical considerations. ‘Lord Rokeby, Miss Blythe will need some new clothes if she is to attend the parties next Season.’
His lordship smiled at her intervention. ‘I had thought of this, Miss Appleby. My mother’s modiste in Windsor is still operating her business. Mrs Marmery will know just what is needed. Just mention me to her and she will know I will honour all the bills.’
In a breathless voice, Charlotte asked, ‘When would your grandmama wish me to arrive?’
‘Lady Bucklebury has suggested ten days after Epiphany. I have a letter from her for you.’ He rifled through the papers on his desk and pulled out a folded and sealed missive, addressed in an elaborate hand. ‘She can be fierce but she is not a stickler for convention. She had an unconstrained youth when social mores were less prescriptive than today. I think she’s amused by the thought she has a great-granddaughter whose existence was a mystery to her. You’re also her connection with her lost favourite, your father.’
Both young women looked at each other, unsettled in different ways by the unfolding realisation of just how much Charlotte’s life was changing. Excitement and alarm were the salient emotions in Charlotte’s breast and in Leonora’s heart was a confusion of feeling. On the surface was joy for her young friend, knowing her father at last and being embraced by a family of such significance to open undreamed-of possibilities. But under the bubbling excitement was a sense of loss, of the easy balance of her friendship with the girl she had known since babyhood.
