Chapter Nine #2
“We discovered some of the secrets, though, when Allan, Baldwin and I were shut up here the first time,” Cornelius explained. “That was when the marquess married his third wife, Isaac’s and Jerome’s mother. He thought we—and Allan in particular—were too friendly with his bride.”
“Too handsome and too close to her own age for him to compete, I imagine,” was Thomasina’s dry comment.
“It was all in his own mind,” said Allan.
Irene had made a confidant of him because she feared her husband and was miserable.
Allan, who was the same age as his stepmother, felt sorry for the timid lady, and had tried to be kind.
It had got him and his full brothers imprisoned in the tower and then exiled to a remote estate in the north of England.
Mrs. Blackmore nodded. “We see in others a reflection of ourselves, my nanny used to say.” She went on to ask, “What happened to his third wife? In fact, tell me about all three wives.”
“My mother died when I was five, and the twins were three,” said Allan. “I have a vague memory of a pretty, sweet-smelling lady with soft skin and a gentle voice.”
“I don’t remember her at all,” Baldwin offered.
Cornelius agreed, adding, “As to how she died, she had a fall on the stairs at the marquess’s country seat.
Ever since I found that out, I have wondered whether the marquess killed her, but no one has ever suggested that in my hearing, and it is more than thirty years ago, so it is unlikely we shall ever know. ”
“She was the only child of an earl,” said Allan. “The Earl of Arlesley. He died without an heir not long after Cornelius was born. She inherited everything that wasn’t entailed, and the title became extinct.”
“The marquess married his second wife shortly after our mother’s funeral,” Allan said. “The lady was kind enough to the three of us, even after her own sons began to arrive. If she was at home with us in the country, we were all taken to see her most evenings, while she was dressing for dinner.”
Given how quickly the marquess married his second wife, Mel wondered if the evil man had murdered his first wife to make room. Yes, and perhaps his father-in-law as well, but—as Cornelius had pointed out—more than thirty years had passed. They would probably never know.
“Our second mother always smelt wonderful, and she asked each of us to say what had been the best thing about our day.” Cornelius’s voice was soft with memory.
“My mother gave birth to a son every two years,” said Donald.
“I was six when she died of childbirth fever not long after the twins were born. I remember her, but only just. As Allan said, we saw her every evening when she was at home, but if one of the babies cried, we were all sent back to the nursery, even if we had not had our turn to talk to Mama.”
“Isaac and I don’t remember our mother at all,” said Jerome. “Don, you knew her the best.”
“Yes, I was ten when she arrived. At first, I was inclined to resent her, because the marquess said he had to send Allan away, since our new mother was only a little bit older, and Allan might bother her. I didn’t understand it, then.
I only knew that I missed him, for Allan was both father and mother to us, and I missed Baldwin and Cornelius, too, for they were sent away with him. ”
“But she won you over,” Allan commented.
“You were heartbroken after she died. You all were.” The marquess had sent for his three eldest sons after his third wife died, leaving two sons, one just turned three and one eleven months younger.
They had arrived back at the marquess’s country estate to find the nursery party in deep mourning.
His five sons by his second wife had had her as their mother for only four years, but she had spent more time with them during those years than any other person had done in their lives.
Of course, the servants hired to care for the children were with them for every hour of the day, but their tenure tended to be short. Allan could not think of a single nanny or nursemaid who’d lasted in the marquess’s employ for more than six months.
That would be, in part, because servants were also victims of the marquess’s volatile temper and his lusts, and in part because they were neither well paid nor well housed.
The marquess persisted in thinking that working for him was reward enough.
Given that they mostly went on to better positions on the strength of their time in a marquess’s house, he had no problem replacing one hapless skivvy with another.
“How did the third marchioness meet her end?” asked Mrs. Blackmore.
“According to gossip at the time,” said Allan, with a glance at Isaac and Jerome, “she died in a carriage accident while running away with a lover.”
“It’s a lie. She would not have run away without her sons,” Donald insisted.
Mrs. Blackmore continued asking questions and making notes in her little book. Allan didn’t see how any of this sordid and miserable history would help.
Baldwin said so.
“It will help us to find his enemies,” said Mrs. Blackmore, calmly. “It may take time, though, to marshal the resources to stand against him. In the meantime, you need a solution before Lord Kemble, Lord Baldwin, and Lord Ernest are forced into an unwanted marriage.”
“We shall refuse all the way to the altar,” said Allan, firmly. “Even if the three prospective brides are harpies-in-training, I’ll not bring them into the mess that is our family.”
“A pity you don’t have time to find wives of your own choosing,” said Thomasina. “Cornelius cannot be forced to marry by any power under Heaven.”
“True,” said Baldwin, thoughtfully. “If I were already wed, I could laugh in the marquess’s face.”
“What gives your father power over you?” asked Mrs. Blackmore. “Money, is it not? And Jerome’s age?”
Cornelius spoke up again. “And Isaac’s, initially.
And the marquess’s willingness to interfere when we try to strike out on our own.
Mrs. Blackmore, we have all tried to find work that would make us independent of the marquess, but he has stopped us at every turn.
Then, when we were imprisoned and found a way out, we had to be careful.
We couldn’t risk coming to the marquess’s attention.
Then Ernest told us about the Golden Adonis.
What the marquess does not know about, he cannot stop. ”
“I heard about it from a friend at one of the events his lordship commanded me to attend,” Ernest offered.
“We have been able to save a small nest egg,” Allan said. “Enough to get Jerome and Isaac out of the country for a while, and to give each of us money to start us somewhere new. The problem is that his lordship won’t accept our escape.”
Thomasina emitted a huff of contempt. “What can he do?” she demanded. “You are all of age. He cannot demand you return home.”
“What he has done before,” Mrs. Blackmore explained. “He can make it impossible for them to find employment. Bribery, threats, coercion. Whatever is required to convince an employer to let them go. He will assume that, when they are hungry enough, they will come home.”
“Cornelius is coming to France with me to be a vintner,” said Thomasina, firmly. “It is a family business in another country, and the marquess can do nothing about it.”
“Except discourage your customers,” Baldwin grumbled.
Thomasina glared. “Let him dare, and he shall see what Frenchwomen are made of.”
“Best to stop him before things go that far,” said Mrs. Blackmore.
But in years of thinking about it, his sons had not been able to discover a way to stop him.
Allan summarized the situation as it currently stood.
“If he can find us, he will make sure our lives are ruined, and the lives of those we care about. So, we shall split our savings and scatter and run, change our identities, hide ourselves away. Some of us will make it.”
“Jerome must go,” said Mrs. Blackmore. “I quite agree. But what if the rest of you stay? Make targets of yourselves? And put watchers on your father to catch him in illegal acts? For you can be certain he is arrogant enough, entitled enough, to do whatever he pleases, thinking no one will hold him to account. With reason, for nasty things happen to those who stand in his way. Let him try to bully you in full view of Society and, if he is overconfident enough, the law. If it works, you might all be able to live in the open and in peace.”
There was silence for a moment, as Allan and his brothers and sister-in-law absorbed what she had said.
Baldwin was the first to speak.
“By Jove’s purple stockings, Mrs. Blackmore. That might actually work.”