Chapter 15 #2
Mrs Pellham appeared to collect her thoughts.
‘Aye, he did, and she him, though they weren’t always the best behaved!
’ She chuckled, her eyes shining. ‘Truth be told, they were a right couple of mischief-makers at times, and I should know, they were my flesh and blood! Some used to ask if I were jealous of their bond, but they were like one person, see, and it didn’t surprise me that they departed together in the end, too…
’ Mrs Pellham trailed off thoughtfully before drawing a deep breath.
‘Eliza probably told you they grew up living with my mother, but they visited me whenever they could. Then Eliza came more when her brother left for France, to tell me all the news… I do so miss her voice,’ she added, her voice lowering.
‘Though I still keep them both nearby, even now they’re gone. ’
She stood up again as Josephine watched, mesmerised, but this time she crossed to her dusty mantlepiece and felt along, before gently lifting down an old, cracked vase.
Then she returned to her seat and withdrew a thick bundle of yellowed envelopes tied with a frayed scarlet ribbon.
Mrs Pellham pressed the bundle to her lips before untying it and offering a letter to Josephine.
‘I wonder if you might read me a little, my dear … while you’re here?’ she asked, her pale eyes misting.
Josephine stared, dumbfounded, at the thick bundle of old letters resting in her lap.
They were in matching yellow envelopes and addressed in the same flowing hand, with foreign, military-looking postal stamps.
She couldn’t have hoped for as much. If Pellham’s letters to his own sister didn’t offer an insight into the truth, she wasn’t sure anything could.
‘It would be my sincere pleasure,’ she whispered, taking the letter and waiting as Mrs Pellham settled back in her chair.
She opened it nervously and spread the single sheet out on her skirt before clearing her throat.
‘My dearest Eliza,’ she read by a stream of light through a small, latticed window.
‘I trust this letter finds you, Mother and Grandmother in good health. I am well and finding life in the regiment to my liking. The rations are fair, the quarters are decent, and the weather has been kind for the most part. I haven’t spent much time with the other men, there isn’t the opportunity between shifts, and I like to keep to myself.
In truth, I have not felt entirely comfortable, for you know I did not enlist alone and a meeting is inevitable.
‘I do hope, however, dear sister, that when this letter finds you, the rumours surrounding my departure will have subsided. It pains me to know you must have endured so much in my absence and I entreat you to bear it with Pellham fortitude, until such time that I can return and do so for you.
‘Your affectionate brother, George.’
Josephine paused when she reached the end and stared at the careful lettering.
It was the first time she’d seen Pellham’s name in his own hand, and somehow it made him so much more real.
She could tell there was much he wasn’t saying explicitly, that only Eliza would have understood his full meaning, but it was clear that the bond between them was significant.
‘Yes, they were very close, my dear,’ Mrs Pellham confirmed as though she could read Josephine’s thoughts. ‘And even though there was all that business with young Huntingly, it never divided them, even at the end. He always swore he’d protect her in life and death, and he did.’
Josephine looked up, startled by Mrs Pellham’s direct mention of Lord Huntingly.
‘Business with young Huntingly?’ she repeated softly.
‘Aye, Eliza must have told you, even if you didn’t hear of it at Ebcott – it were all over the county at the time! But I don’t care what they said, George wasn’t the type to go hurting anyone. He were a caring boy, brought up with respect, and when it happened, well, it changed him.’
‘I understand,’ Josephine assured her, somehow knowing her testimony was more than the words of a loving mother, that she was speaking the truth.
She drew a deep breath, her mind whirling with a very different George Pellham from the one she’d expected to encounter, together with a succession of new questions that cast all her previous assumptions into shade.
Yet, she was certain his thick bundle of letters would somehow contain the answers.
‘Did you ever discover the truth?’ she ventured, wondering how his mother seemed aware of her every thought.
Mrs Pellham slowly turned her head towards Josephine.
‘It were a bad business,’ she replied in a low voice, ‘and the only people who knew the truth were themselves. I thought they might have time, all of them, to work it out and find a resolution, but after Lord Huntingly’s accident there was the duel—’ she paused to shudder ‘—and … Italy.’
‘Please don’t upset yourself,’ Josephine intervened swiftly. ‘It really is none of my—’
‘He didn’t do anything dishonourable!’ Mrs Pellham interrupted fiercely, catching hold of Josephine’s wrist. ‘He weren’t the type, I’m telling you!’
‘I believe you,’ Josephine whispered. ‘Whatever happened to Lord Huntingly, George was innocent.’
At this reassurance, his mother relaxed her hold.
‘Yes, you know it, I can tell. They were good children and always tried to take care of me. Even old Lord Huntingly could see that. But when he passed—’ she drew a deep, wracking breath ‘—it changed everything. No one believed it was an accident … and there was such talk in the village. Eliza tried to stem it, but then they only turned against her… It were all a terrible time, Miss Fairfax, and that’s no lie. ’
‘Pray, do not upset yourself, Mrs Pellham,’ Josephine entreated again. ‘I should not have asked such a question, it was thoughtless of me.’
‘No, my dear, I am grateful, for you have brought George’s voice back, and now I can sleep. The letters are all I have left, you see?’
‘I am more than happy I’ve helped,’ Josephine whispered as Mrs Pellham drew a breath. ‘Would you like me to replace the letters in the vase for you? It’s no trouble.’
‘Please, take them with you, my dear,’ Mrs Pellham muttered, lifting her head wearily. ‘I am not long for this world, and I worry they will fall into the wrong hands. Take them because you cared. Take them because of your friendship with Eliza.’
She smiled and pressed the bundle into Josephine’s hands, her expression so hopeful that Josephine couldn’t refuse her, despite her burning conscience.
‘I will treasure them, I promise,’ she replied in a hollow voice, rising to take her leave.
‘Don’t treasure them, read them, my dear,’ Mrs Pellham said softly, ‘and discern the truth for yourself, for that is why you’re here, isn’t it? And when you are done, perhaps you can do the one thing I couldn’t?’
Josephine waited, unable to say anything.
‘Burn them.’
Josephine hurried back to Ebcott, feeling as though she’d fallen between the pages of one of her gothic novels.
She’d set out looking for answers, but had hardly dared hope for a living relative, let alone a mother with a tragic story.
She traced the outline of the letters concealed within her reticule, and felt the oddest shiver run through her.
Mrs Pellham had guessed her real purpose, yet it hadn’t stopped her gifting the letters.
Had she sensed her need for the truth? And now it could be truly within reach, which was tantalising, and yet she was conscious of a stir of fear too.
If Pellham wasn’t the wicked character she’d assumed, then where did that leave Lord Huntingly?
Had the second meeting in Italy been as the General suggested?
Or was there something she didn’t know about Eliza?
Her mind darkened as it conjured all the mysterious ways a wild twin might complicate a close friendship.
Could Lord Huntingly have been close to her himself?
It would certainly explain his dark and melancholy turn of mind…
She hurried back along the woodland trail lost in thought, wondering if the answer had been under her nose all along.
She’d so wanted to believe in Huntingly’s innocence that she’d convinced herself it was simply a case of proving Pellham’s guilt.
But if Pellham was as honourable as his mother claimed, Huntingly couldn’t be innocent too.
She closed her eyes briefly, wondering if Phoebe had dispatched a search party for her yet, just as a shrill whistle permeated the air. Startled, she glanced down the trail, certain it wasn’t Willams, which was when she saw him, coming from the direction of Ebcott itself.
Josephine caught her breath, unable to believe her ill luck. ‘My lord?’ she questioned stiffly, as he drew near on the dappled forest path.
‘Miss Fairfax.’ Lord Huntingly frowned heavily. ‘I came to enquire after your safe return, only to find you had not yet returned.’
Josephine stared at his chestnut eyes, flaring with suspicion, together with his long, tousled hair that somehow suited the woodland setting so well.
He looked a respectable country gentleman in his walking cape, fitted coat, cream breeches and Hessian boots, yet all Josephine could see was someone whose scars told only part of the truth, that there was so much he kept hidden, even from a grieving mother.
‘I had business elsewhere, as I mentioned,’ she replied coolly, feeling the weight of the letters even more now.
‘In the village?’ he challenged.
‘Yes,’ she returned, holding her ground. ‘And what of it? I used to go to school here, so why shouldn’t I walk into the village, if I choose?’
‘Who did you see?’ he demanded, striding up before her, his glinting eyes searching hers.
‘I’m sure that is none of your business, sir,’ she snapped.
‘Don’t tell me it is none of my damned business, when we are to be wed,’ he hissed.
‘Really? And is that a promise or a threat?’ she retorted furiously, as he caught her around the waist and pulled her so tightly against him that she was forced to catch her breath.
‘You can make it whatever you wish it to be,’ he ground out savagely, before crushing his lips to hers.
For a moment, Josephine was too startled to do anything except absorb the heat of his fierce kiss, to return it with a mad fervour, and then acknowledge the cold seep of reality. Summoning all her strength, she thrust him away with a growl unlike any she’d heard from her own throat before.
‘How dare you!’ she accused furiously, gathering her skirts. ‘You are in every way insufferable!’
Then she stalked away, cursing every wild and unapologetic nobleman who’d ever insulted a girl, and made her burn for more.