Chapter 27
The young aide moved as though he were a soldier behind enemy lines.
Violet walked calmly, a step behind him, but he moved in crabbed clusters of hurried steps, punctuated with furtive glances.
The hallways through which he led her were either open to the air, the ceiling consumed by fire and with only blackened spars remaining of the joists that had once held up a roof, or were intact but blackened by fire and smoke.
The smell of char was acrid and ever-present.
Presently, he opened a door and ushered Violet into a room untouched by the blaze.
The walls were paneled in dark wood and the ceiling was molded stone, giving an impression of great age and majesty.
The room was cluttered with bookcases and chairs, as though furniture from elsewhere had been deposited there, either in haste to find a home for it or to provide facilities to those making use of the room.
There were half a dozen people there, talking quietly, studying papers spread onto an assortment of tables.
Violet breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Lillian seated by a window.
She approached, taking a seat opposite and receiving a smile of welcome.
“Violet, I thought you would be alone. I gathered that peers were being called in from all over London for the debate.”
“Was it Godstone that told you that?” Violet asked.
“Indeed. Despite his hubris, he was very informative, I must say. I know a lot more about how our Parliament works now than I did.”
“I was surprised to find that you had gone off with him, Lilly. He is practically a complete stranger to us.”
“You dined with him,” Lillian pointed out.
“That is different. I am well known within London society. My reputation is impeccable. You are young and inexperienced. It would be too easy for your reputation to be tarnished.”
Lillian looked skeptical. “Do you believe that Lord Godstone is not a man of honor? That he cannot be trusted?”
“No, merely that his motives are not clear. I do not think he sets out to take advantage of either of us. I did not get that impression from him. But I do not know why I have come across him twice, apparently by accident.”
Lillian frowned. “Do you suggest that he is deliberately…following you. Or us. For what purpose? That seems quite bizarre behavior does it not?”
Violet looked around and then lowered her voice. She and Lillian had already been whispering, as was everyone in the room. Now, she wanted to be sure of not being overheard.
“I do not know. But he is a political opponent of Alexander. And Uncle George has allied himself with him. Perhaps he seeks to cement that alliance by currying favor with us?”
Lillian looked out of the window, biting her lip.
Violet thought that she looked as though there was something she wanted to say but did not know how.
She put her hands in her lap and joined Lillian in gazing out of the window, knowing that her cousin would not be rushed into saying what was on her mind.
Presently, Lillian nodded to herself and turned back to Violet, looking resolute.
“Violet. I had thought that perhaps his Lordship had another purpose. At first, I thought he must be pursuing you…romantically that is. Particularly when he seemed so surprised when you intimated that you and Alexander were courting. Then, I bumped into him as I was on my way back to Alexander’s house. And I thought again.”
Violet realized what Lillian was driving at. She sat back in her chair, pondering this new revelation.
She is suggesting that Ambrose Deveraux is pursuing her interest. He is old enough to be her father. But that is no bar to many members of the Ton. Older men take younger wives all the time. I suppose I should be glad. I wanted Lillian to take part in society and this would help.
“I had not thought of that. How conceited of me,” Violet said, faintly. “And how do you feel about it?”
Lillian laughed aloud and then looked around, putting a hand over her mouth. She took Violet’s hands, leaning forward to whisper in her ear.
“If you had asked me a few days ago I would say that I had no interest in any man I know. Now though…he is very gracious. And cultured. And educated.”
“He certainly is. You could not ask for a better-connected husband,” Violet said.
“Husband! Violet, do not say that word. It is far too early. I do not even know if Ambrose was simply being chivalrous, looking after me when he saw me alone. And there is something in his manner that is…odd.”
Violet tilted her head, studying her cousin and trying to gauge her perceptiveness.
How well can she read people? I learned that particular skill over years.
“Odd? In what way?”
Lillian threw up her hands, blowing out a long breath, and sitting back. “I do not know. It is not knowledge. It is…instinct. There is something in his manner as though…he wishes to know me better but wishes to maintain a barrier. It just feels odd.”
“Well, I am happy to hear you talking of such things at least, instead of business,” Violet said. “It is a sign of progress.”
“Regardless of his somewhat odd attitude and despite his looks, Lord Godstone’s attitude towards that topic does not stand him in good stead with me.
He was very disparaging when I mentioned working on Alexander’s estate accounts.
He almost seemed to be trying to prohibit me!
Which would seem presumptuous in the extreme! ”
Violet pursed her lips. “Perhaps it is the man for whom you are proposing to work. I do not think there is much love lost between Alexander and Lord Godstone.”
“No reason for him to be lecturing a young woman he has only met once before. He is not my father!” Lillian replied hotly.
The words struck a chord with Violet, hitting her like a lightning bolt.
It brought back a memory, reading her late mother’s journal in the depths of the night, over and over again.
A passage came to the forefront of her memory at that moment and connected, as though a piece of a puzzle with another memory.
“Are you quite well, Vi?” Lillian asked. “You are suddenly quite pale. In fact, you look as though you have seen a ghost.”
Violet realized she had been staring out of the window.
Beyond was a paved courtyard, and beyond, a fire-gutted hulk of stone.
The courtyard had been filled with fire-damaged debris, resembling a rubbish dump now.
But she was not seeing it. She was seeing, in her mind, the image that her mother’s words had conjured.
Of a place she had visited to see a handsome, young man.
Her mother had given a description of his home.
A place that looked like a medieval castle, complete with a moat.
“Yes, just perplexed by your story. I cannot account for Lord Godstone’s behavior, I must say,” Violet said.
“Ssssh!” Someone hissed from across the room. “The debate is beginning.”
Violet realized that she could hear voices coming into the room quite clearly. They seemed to be reaching into the room through a door located in a far corner, amplified by sound that came in through a window that lay open. Lillian leaned forward again.
“Lord Godstone told me that before the fire there was a gallery in which visitors could watch the debates, just as there is in the Commons. They call this the Whispering Room because the chamber in which they are debating is next door. And we must whisper so as not to interrupt.”
She put her fingers to her lips and Violet nodded. She was content to remain quiet but was not listening to the debate. She was hearing Ambrose Deveraux’s voice bragging about his ancestral home.
“The house itself was built on the site of a medieval fortress. My grandfather retained the curtain walls and the moat. It makes for an impressive entrance, I can tell you. And quite unique. The house rises on an island, set in gardens finer than anything outside of the Tuileries.”
Then her mother’s words from the journal that Lillian had discovered.
“His family home is a fairytale, rising above a moat and set like a jewel amid a crown of beautiful gardens. It reminded me of the grandeur of the palaces of Paris. It quite took my breath away.”
Violet’s heart hammered in her chest at the idea that now formed. That her mother, as a young woman, had known the equally young Ambrose Deveraux, Earl of Godstone. Had talked of him as though he were a lover. Or at least a man whom she loved.
Is Ambrose Deveraux my father?