Chapter 11 #2
The blue eyes pinned him again, the shock of that long-ago day burning in them.
“The baby… there was a baby, a boy, so very tiny, and he died, and there was so much blood. Samuel wrapped Godmama in blankets and carried her away, and Louisa took me, and we all came to Bluebelle Lodge. Then Nicholas’s mama came to live with us and he was born, and Godmama promised that I would live here until I grew up and got married and went to my own home. ” She paused for a long moment.
“Your godmama lived here?” he prompted.
Coralie waved a hand dismissively. “She would go away to see to things at Risley Manor, but not overnight, and she never went up to town, though my papa—Lord Chilcombe as was—went away often.”
Her long pause begged the question about whether Archie had come to visit her. He chose to not ask it, waiting.
“I saw him sometimes when he was out riding with his friends. It was better he stayed away.”
There was old wisdom in this child.
“It wasn’t spoken of here, but I heard things in the village. I have… had… a friend.”
“A girl named Mirabelle?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I saw her speaking to your godmother at the assembly, asking how you are.”
“Godmama won’t tell me. She doesn’t want me to feel sad.
” Coralie shook her head and met his gaze.
“But you asked when her worrying started? It started the day that man turned over his phaeton in the lane. Godmama had a message summoning her to Risley Manor and she left quite suddenly. And when she came back later, she was flushed, and angry, and agitated too. It wasn’t like her, and when I went to see what was wrong.
I found her in her study kneeling before the fireplace, burning papers. ”
Coralie looked away, visibly more troubled by the more recent memory, than by the one from her early childhood.
A cold chill went through him and a memory flashed. Sir Morris had supposedly been carrying the new will.
“She told me to get out and close the door behind me. She’d never before sent me away like that. And she was crying.”
I am not a murderer, Blythe had said.
But she was surely a thief. That had been the new will she was burning. How had she obtained it from Sir Morris? Was it before or after his death?
Anger flared in him but he was careful to hide it from the girl. It wasn’t Coralie’s fault. Blythe had lied to the girl as well—lies of omission, Coralie had called them, but lies nevertheless.
She hadn’t trusted Graeme with the truth.
“After Lord Chilcombe died, she had to go away,” Coralie said. “It was because of Lord Vernon. Do you know him, my lord?”
“I have met him.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Is he your friend?”
“Emphatically, no.”
She nodded and let out a long breath. “He had taken up residence at Wickworth Hall. He called every day, sometimes twice a day, and he lurked in the fields all around, and… she was afraid.” Coralie shuddered. “She would never say it, but I knew it. He wanted her to be his mistress.”
The girl’s frankness shocked him.
“I should not know about such things, I know, but one can’t help but overhear gossip.”
“Did he ever bother you or Nicholas?”
“He was never allowed into the house—we were in mourning. Louisa and Samuel barred him from entry. Nicholas and I knew to make ourselves scarce when he came around.” Her brows drew together. “And I remembered him, you see. He is not a good man. He was there the night the baby died.”
“Did he bother you or Nicholas when you went into the village? Or perhaps at church?”
“After Lord Chilcombe died, Louisa did all our shopping. And we stopped going to church years before that when the vicar asked us to stay away.”
The vicar had asked them to stay away? No wonder Blythe had stiffened when they’d discussed the vicar the night before.
No wonder she guarded her secrets so carefully.
“So Lord Vernon had no particular interest in you or in Nicholas?”
She gave him an assessing look. “He is Nicholas’s father, isn’t he?
There is a strong resemblance. The village gossips whisper that he’s Lord Vernon’s bastard by Godmama, but I know that’s not true because I saw him being born.
” Color rose in her cheeks. “I wasn’t supposed to, but I heard all the screaming and sneaked into the birthing room. ”
He remembered stumbling across a woman giving birth on the outskirts of an army camp years earlier.
“A terrifying experience,” he said.
Coralie turned a curious gaze on him and her lips quirked.
“It wasn’t so long after Godmama lost her child, and not as scary, because no one had been trying to hurt Nicholas’s mother. And when Nicholas came out… well, Godmama feared it would put me off marriage, but…”
She stopped, apparently realizing she’d stumbled into unacceptable territory, and the blush crept up her cheeks again.
She would lead all the young bucks a merry chase if he could give her a season.
“And here we are.” Blythe appeared in the doorway, her hand firmly clutching that of a slight little boy in a dusty coat and trousers.
A tousle of curly hair, so dark it was almost black, covered one eye, but Graeme could see that the one visible eye was the same golden hazel as Lord Vernon’s and Diddenton’s. Like the eyes of a venomous snake ready to strike.
But this was a little boy, and the only emotion Graeme saw in his eyes was fear.
He rose and went to greet the child, going down on his haunches and extending his hand.
“How do you do, Nicholas,” he said. “I’m Lord Chilcombe. Coralie and I were just about to call for tea and biscuits. Do you suppose your cook has any available for us?”
The lad leaned into Blythe’s skirts and said nothing.
“We have a fresh sponge cake and elderberry jelly,” Mrs. Stockwell said. “Will that do, my lord?”
He looked at Nicholas. “What do you think?”
The boy nodded shyly.
A few moments later, Blythe watched as Coralie and Nicholas followed Louisa out of the parlor.
A firm hand clasped her own, and Graeme led her to the sofa.
“We must talk.” He settled down next to her, a hand’s width apart. “Before they return.”
His closeness set her nerves to rattling.
“Coralie told me that Nicholas is afraid. He told her this morning that two different men have tried to take him. That’s why he hid. He thought I was coming to take him away.”
“What?” Heart pounding, she tried to stand. He took her arm and stayed her.
“I didn’t know, Graeme. They ought to have told me. Louisa—”
“Didn’t know either. Nor Coralie, until this morning.”
She buried her face in her hands, then thought better of succumbing to emotion. She needed to be stronger than that.
“Lord Vernon has never tried to claim Nicholas. Despite the rumors, which he certainly must have heard.” She shuddered, her thoughts trailing off, her anger rising.
Lord Vernon had found a new way to torture her.
“Or it might be Diddenton’s doing,” Graeme said.
Diddenton, who wanted to take her home and only source of income from her. Would he go after a child nobody else wanted?
She turned her gaze on Graeme and found him watching her. She felt a squeeze and saw that his hand had found hers again.
What would be the price of his help?
“I’d best plan on staying here,” she said. “I’ll look after him. The Stockwells, and Cook, and Joseph will help me.”
“I’ll help you, Blythe. I mean to protect him and Coralie.”
And me. Will you protect me?
She gritted her teeth and fought her weakness. She’d find a way to protect herself and the children.
He leaned closer, stirring the air with the citrusy scent of his shaving soap.
“I propose that we take them to London. I’ll hire more servants and others to guard you and the children.
The Chilcombe House garden can’t compare to a country estate, but we can take them on outings to the park and to see some of the sights. ”
“They’ll be safer here.” Even as she said the words, she remembered her own departure from Bluebelle Lodge escaping Lord Vernon’s attentions.
“Will they?” Graeme asked. “And will you stay here and guard them while I deal with the Pregorative Court of Canterbury and the resolution of this will? Not, I suppose, that your presence is needed there, but I know the outcome is important to…”
There was another squeeze on her hand.
“To both of us.”
Oh, oh, oh. She blinked back a surge of emotion. Graeme was offering comfort, partnership, perhaps friendship. Or hope.
She closed her eyes and tried to think. If he knew the truth, he would shun her. They weren’t partners. They’d never be friends. The will stood between them—both wills, the old one and the new one. And Lunetta Casale. Even now, Will was in London looking for the woman.
There was no way to know when any of it would be resolved, or in what manner, and she needed to be in London, not in the country fending off gossips and trespassers.
Coralie would love to visit the lending library, and Nicholas would adore seeing the animals at the Tower. If he could stay healthy… and perhaps…
“Lady Loughton gave me the name of a London physician I should like to have examine Nicholas. I haven’t yet been able to arrange for—”
“We can see to that. Has Nicholas been ill?”
“He suffers quite frequently from fevers and lung congestion.”
“We’ll send for the physician when we arrive in town. And we can begin to think about plans for Coralie’s future.”
We. Nicholas would see a doctor, and bright, beautiful Coralie might have a future—it seemed she would have to trust this new Lord Chilcombe.
She nodded.
“Very well. I propose that we leave early tomorrow morning before anyone has a chance to report it to the residents of Wickworth Hall.”
“Another hurried departure,” Blythe said. “I shall have to send word to my maid to pack my things. And what of Hermione? We shall have quite the squeeze in the traveling chaise.”
“Leave that to me.” He sandwiched her hand between both of his, and she felt herself plummeting into the comfort of his touch and his promises after so many years fending for herself.
A loud knocking brought her to her feet, alarm coursing through her. Bluebelle Lodge did not have regular callers, except for… “We can ignore that caller. Louisa won’t hear the knocking in the kitchen, and the maid has gone back to tidying the upstairs bedrooms.”
Graeme quirked a grin. “Allow me to play butler and send away any disagreeable visitors.”
That grin took her back years, reminding her of the boy he’d once been, and her heart filled with gratitude.
He left, and a few minutes later, returned with Mr. Jarrow.
Graeme had broken his promise to send away a disagreeable visitor. She hid her dismay and managed a courteous greeting.