Chapter Thirty-Two
B rilliance was nearly vibrating with excitement, unable to keep from pacing the drawing room and watching out the front window as the big hand of the mantel clock drew closer to one. To her great dismay, even when the small hand was at half past, Vincent still had not shown.
An hour later, she wrote a hurried message and sent it by footman directly to his home. Oddly, the response came from his butler.
My Lady,
Seeing how you shall soon be the Viscount Hewitt’s wife, I do not think I am speaking out of turn when I inform you that his lordship has been taken by the constable at noon today to Scotland Yard, Whitehall Place .
Her heart began to race as she finished reading.
Lord Hewitt has been charged with assault upon the person of Mr. Castern.
Regards,
Mr. Chamber
Butler to the Viscount Hewitt
Sweet Mary! “Mother,” she called out, rushing from the room.
Lady Diamond was upstairs in her private salon, awaiting the arrival of Lord Hewitt with increasing impatience. However, after Brilliance explained the awful circumstances that had unfolded outside Vincent’s home leading to the violence, her mother surprised her.
“I think your father should accompany you to give a statement. Men with their notions of honor and duty, especially a nobleman of your father’s stature, can often solve such things better than an irate woman. Therefore, let us find Diamond and see if he is free to go to the jail.”
All-over agitated, Brilliance paced whilst her mother sent out notes by their footman until her father was located. Geoffrey Diamond came striding through the door with all due concern and confidence. After sweeping up his wife for a passionate kiss, he let her speak.
She explained any details which she’d left out of her note.
“Yes,” he said. “I am sure I can get him released.”
Brilliance’s mother appeared serene. “Dearest husband, has there ever been a situation that you could not handle to your satisfaction?”
He grinned. “I managed to marry you when all were against us. Everything after that has been easy.”
They kissed again, and Brilliance cleared her throat.
Both of them turned to her with dreamy gazes . How she adored her happy, loving parents, but it was not the moment for kissing!
“Please, Father, make haste.”
The earl nodded. “Let us retrieve that fiancé of yours.”
“Bring him home for dinner,” Lady Diamond said.
Vincent could not believe the ignominious state of being held at Scotland Yard. Nor could he comprehend that Ambrose would do something so fiendish. Surely stealing his fiancée and his compositions was enough, but pressing charges against him seemed beyond the pale.
And then he heard footsteps.
“Come this way, my lord,” said the sergeant who had first led him, almost apologetically, to the holding cell.
Vincent followed the man to the front of London’s central police station. If he weren’t the one being charged, he would have found it interesting to see inside Scotland Yard.
The sergeant ushered him through a doorway, and there she was. His angel! What’s more, Brilliance didn’t appear distraught at his incarceration. Perhaps that was because beside her was the Earl Diamond. And next to him was the constable who had arrested him, seemingly now chums with his lordship.
“All a misunderstanding,” Lord Diamond was saying.
Vincent heard no more because Brilliance had launched herself into his arms. Looking over her head at her father’s piercing gaze, he tried to push her away, but she kept stepping close again — all wriggling, good smelling warmth and curves which were pressing against him until he wrapped his arms around her back.
He patted it as tepidly as possible before once again trying to push her away.
“Your father,” he muttered.
“What about him?” Brilliance asked, lifting her cheek from his chest.
“Bri dear, your betrothed is trying to keep you from making a public display of affection. I would agree if we weren’t in this closed room hidden away from prying eyes and among friends.” Lord Diamond clapped the constable on the shoulder.
“Indeed,” the mustached policeman said. “Indeed, we are.”
Regardless, Brilliance did, at last, give him space to breathe. “We have freed you. And I have excellent news.”
“Isn’t that excellent news?” Vincent asked.
“Yes, it is!” She clapped her hands. “Yet this is even better. I have recovered much of your music written and dated. It is proof, don’t you see? Unequivocal proof — that’s the word you used, Father, isn’t it?” she asked, glancing at Lord Diamond, before looking at Vincent again. “That you wrote the music.”
Vincent shook his head, not understanding, thinking only of all the sheets he tore or burned in his rage.
“Your mother had saved them all!” Brilliance gestured to two leather satchels on the desk in the corner. He recognized them as once belonging to his father. And then it dawned on him their import.
“How could I have forgotten?” he asked. “I must be the dullest dolt in England. You cannot possibly marry me.”
Her lovely face clouded over. But he smiled at her.
“I am speaking in jest, I assure you.”
“He is,” said her father, “or I would shoot him.”
Vincent startled, but this time Brilliance was the one smiling.
“My father is joking.”
“Am I?” asked the earl.
Even Brilliance turned uncertainly toward her father.
The constable watched with rounded eyes before coughing. “Well, Lord Hewitt may leave. And we shall expect Mr. Castern to drop all charges by the morning.”
“Very good,” said Lord Diamond.
“But the music?” Vincent asked.
“We brought it along to explain the seriousness of Mr. Castern’s offense and explain why you had justifiable cause,” Brilliance explained.
“Is theft and plagiarism justifiable cause for a punch in the nose?” Vincent asked the sergeant.
“In this case” — and he looked again at the earl — “yes, it is, especially combined with Mr. Castern’s slanderous insults toward Lord Diamond’s daughter.”
In a few minutes, with the satchels tucked under Vincent’s arm, he was a free man.
“My father is a generous patron of the police and has been for years,” Brilliance told him. “He supports their widows and orphans, too.”
That made more sense than justifiable cause for assaulting someone over insults, but he kept those thoughts to himself.
“I am very grateful,” Vincent told them both, “but I still need to make Castern drop all charges.”
Lord Diamond halted in front of his carriage and folded his arms. “That shouldn’t be too difficult now that you have tangible evidence the music he plays is yours. I have no doubt the two of you will wrap this up in time to come back for dinner. My countess is expecting you.”
And then he sauntered down the street like he owned it, leaving them to take the carriage.
“Your father is quite a character.”
“He is perfect,” Brilliance said, staring after him.
Vincent leaned inside the carriage and set the satchels on the seat, noticing her quiet maid in one corner. Then he assisted his fiancée before he climbed in and settled on the luxuriously soft seat opposite. Vincent thought his own conveyance was comfortable, but the Diamonds’ town coach was a step above. However, they weren’t moving.
The two females looked at one another.
“Shall I?” Brilliance asked. “There is a speaking tube, you see.” She pulled the springy contraption from where it passed through the front of the carriage and up under the driver’s box. She offered the open end to him.
Taking it from her and leaning forward, Vincent spoke into it, feeling half a fool. “Driver, please take us to 15 Montagu Place, the home of Mr. Ambrose Castern.”
The carriage began with a lurch and moved into London’s constant traffic, crawling along steadily toward the north side of Montagu Square, a genteel neighborhood but not anywhere he imagined Lady Brilliance had ever gone before.
“You are amazing,” he told his future bride.
“Your butler told me what happened, but it was Father who rescued you.”
“I am speaking of how you have rescued my music.”
Brilliance’s pretty cheeks turned pink. “My mother and I paid a visit to your mother yesterday, and I was going to surprise you when you came to tea at one.”
“Of all that happened to me today, the worst was disappointing you and your mother by my absence.”
“Thus, she invited you to dine with us this evening.”
Vincent nodded. “I shall enjoy it if we manage to make Ambrose see reason.”
“I have no doubt we will do so.”
Within half an hour , they arrived at Mr. and Mrs. Castern’s home.
“Do you think he will see us?” Brilliance asked.
“That is a good question,” Vincent said. “Perhaps we should have brought your father, but I think you are just as formidable.”
“Me?” Brilliance had never thought of herself in that way, but then, she had never before been compelled to such a challenge. Because she loved Vincent Hewitt more than she had thought possible to love anyone, she would attempt any task, no matter how arduous.
“Yes, you.” He alighted and then turned back to reach for her hand.
“I suppose Belinda should accompany me.”
“Indubitably.”
Privately, Brilliance thought her perfect reputation was a lost cause, yet she wished to avoid any further improprieties, at least in front of the Casterns.
With Brilliance and Belinda behind him and one of the satchels of music once again tucked under his arm, Vincent lifted and released the door knocker.
“Ridiculous!” he muttered.
Brilliance peered around her future husband as he used the knocker twice more, with increasing vigor. Vincent was taking out his frustrations upon a brass fixture shaped like a musical symbol.
“A treble clef! Such foolishness,” he added, about to lift it for the fourth time when the door swung inward.
A young man in the garb of a butler tried to look imposing while staring up at Vincent.
“Tell Mr. Castern that the Viscount Hewitt and Lady Brilliance are here to see him.”
Brilliance smiled against his right suit coat shoulder. She had never heard him introduce himself thusly before. The title certainly worked its usual magic, as the young head of staff backed up a step.
“Please come in, my lord, and the ladies, too. I will tell him you are here. If you wish, you may wait in the drawing room.”
And he gestured toward an open door across the foyer. Then he bowed shallowly and disappeared along the passageway.
“I counted three errors that an experienced butler would never make,” Vincent said.
“Agreed,” Brilliance responded. Even Belinda broke her usual silence. “As if I could be a lady.”
They strolled into the drawing room, which was chilly with no fire as yet in the hearth.
“A lazy gentleman has untrained staff,” Vincent remarked.
Brilliance busied herself surveying the room. It was nicely furnished and decorated. Mrs. Castern had good taste for color and artwork, it seemed. Before she could look more closely at a painting hanging over a credenza, Mr. Castern entered the room, trailed by his butler.
“I cannot credit my eyes that you people are in my home, uninvited.”
Brilliance turned to the odd sound of his voice and gasped at seeing the puffy purplish half-moons under each of his eyes, swelling them practically shut. No wonder he couldn’t credit them. He could hardly see out of his eyes. Moreover, upon his face was a bandage wrapped over his nose and around to the back of his head.
“You never could take a punch,” was all Vincent said, which didn’t seem to Brilliance like a good start to the discussion. “Anyway, your damn poor excuse for a butler gave us entry.”
“Do you see my face? I had to soak my nose in ice water and must wear this compression bandage for God knows how long. Why are you out of jail?”
Brilliance silently watched, wondering what Vincent would say. Her betrothed grinned.
“Because my future father-in-law is an earl.”
“That’s outrageous,” Mr. Castern said, although it came out thickly and mispronounced.
“There was another reason,” Vincent added. He drew the bundle out from under his arm. “And this is only half of it.”
“What is that ?” Mr. Castern asked.
“This is justifiable cause. More precisely, it is my music, written down and dated.”
Due to Mr. Castern’s bandaged-covered cheeks, Brilliance could not tell if he paled at the words, but he managed to slightly widen his swollen eyelids.
“I thought ...” He trailed off, and then, in a desperate move, he darted forward and tried to grab the satchel.
Vincent held it high over his head.
“You thought that your treacherous wife had ferreted out all my written work and given it to you. You are mistaken. I have another pile in the carriage. All dated, all in my hand.”
Brilliance thought she had never seen a sadder man. Ambrose Castern slumped down onto the sofa.
“Then I am ruined.”
“Indeed,” Vincent said.
At that moment, Mrs. Castern entered the house through the foyer and found the group in her drawing room.
“What is going on here? How dare you show your face after what you did!”
“I, for one, am sorry your husband looks like Mr. Punchinello,” Brilliance said, “but we now have written proof that Lord Hewitt composed all the music.”
Mrs. Castern dropped her parcels to the floor. Inside one of them, something made a tinkling sound, and Brilliance knew a piece of glass or maybe crystal had shattered. She felt sorry for the pair. Perhaps Vincent did, too, for he lowered the satchel he had continued to hold high in triumph.
The mood grew worse when tears began to fall — and it was from Mr. Castern’s squidgy eyes.
“Stop that,” snapped Mrs. Castern without sympathy. “Do not give them the satisfaction.”
“All I ever wanted to do was play music for people,” Mr. Castern said, letting the tears run into his bandages. “I don’t know how it became so twisted and complicated.”
Then he raised his head and looked directly at his wife. “Yes, I do. It is your fault.”
Mrs. Castern glanced sideways at Vincent and Brilliance, a nervous expression on her pretty face. Then she straightened her shoulders and addressed her husband.
“That’s not fair. You wanted the recognition and distinction that comes from being a famous pianist and composer as much as I did.”
Brilliance was surprised. “But the fame is not yours,” she pointed out.
Mrs. Castern wheeled around. “We women have little we can do to make our mark upon the world except cling to a man’s coat and hope for a few crumbs of recognition.”
Again, Brilliance felt no kinship with this woman’s opinion. “What have you received recognition for exactly beyond sitting in the theater?”
Her expression darkened. “I inspire him to —”
“To not compose music, apparently,” Vincent interjected.
“Are you going to blame me, as well?” she asked. “Is there no one sympathetic to my plight?”
Brilliance could not help the burst of disgusted exasperation that came out as a bark of laughter.
“Your plight! If I understand correctly, you broke faith with Lord Hewitt and ended your engagement — for which I am eternally grateful! — to make a life with Mr. Castern solely for the purpose of this recognition you treasure so much. What about your husband’s heart? Surely, you love him and would continue to do so even if he broke all ten of his fingers and could never play again. Wouldn’t you?”
Mr. Castern gave a startled look at his hands before clutching them together in his lap as if protecting them. Then he, too, watched his wife, awaiting her answer.
Mrs. Castern hesitated, which broke Brilliance’s heart on Mr. Castern’s behalf. Yet after a moment, the woman’s expression softened. She took a seat beside her husband and put her hand over his.
“I would,” she said firmly. “Of course I would.”
Brilliance felt tears prick her eyes as she looked toward Vincent. His gaze found hers, and she thought they must be thinking similar thoughts of love and devotion. He gave her a small smile.
“What happens now?” Mr. Castern asked into the silence.