Chapter Eighteen
The only thing keeping a lid on Marianne’s frantic temper was Clementine’s all-too-obvious distress. Her aunt sat on the very edge of the Chesterfield, twisting her white gloves with her usually straight shoulders hunched.
Marianne paced over the Oriental carpet and cursed the ticking of the grandfather clock which marked each painful minute of not knowing.
Neither of them spoke, they only waited as the air grew thick with anxiety.
A splendid vase of lilies cast a fragrant aroma through the beautiful room, and Marianne thought that once this day was over, she never wanted to breathe the scent of lilies ever again.
When the doorbell sounded, Marianne feared she might cast up her accounts. Nerves made her whole body tremble, and she held onto the marble mantelpiece and breathed deeply.
The butler opened the ornate wooden door and stood politely in the corner of the room.
“Lady Amberley is here to see you, milady.”
Clementine waved a white glove in his direction. “Tell her I am not receiving visitors today.”
The butler bowed and left.
Marianne flattened her palms on the cool marble and waited for her heartrate to slow down.
“I hoped that might be news,” Clementine said.
Marianne didn’t trust herself to speak, she could only nod and avoid her pallid reflection in the gilded looking glass.
“Why is it taking them so long?” Clementine’s voice quavered with the same worries that coursed through Marianne.
She opened her mouth to answer but sobbed instead.
“Oh, my dear.” Clementine rose from the settee and came to stand beside her, patting her shoulder in a rare show of affection. “Forgive me and my impatience. I am certain that everything will turn out well.”
Marianne took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. As much as she could easily stand here and weep, it would do neither of them any good.
“Thank you,” she managed.
“I mean it.” Clementine was insistent. “Benedict Fairfield is a good man. A courageous man. Toby is in safe hands.”
Marianne blinked, watching her aunt’s face through the looking glass. “You are very sure of him, aunt.”
Clementine put her head to one side. “I have made inquiries. Discreet ones, of course.”
Despite her distress, Marianne found herself smiling a little. “Of course.”
“Some doubts remain over his true place in the Fairfield bloodline, but I have never believed that the sins of the parents should be visited on the children.” Clementine smoothed her skirts.
“By all accounts, Lord Benedict is an honest man of sound character. And most importantly of all, he was a great favorite of Lady Attley.”
Marianne shook her head slightly, trying to place the name.
“His grandmother,” Clementine clarified. “And something of a mentor to me during my first season.” She smiled fondly. “Sarah Attley was a woman of great sensibility.”
Marianne digested this. It was high praise indeed from Clementine Sedgewick. She bit down on her lip as a range of emotions coursed through her. Everything could be perfect, if only Benedict and Toby came home safely.
But she couldn’t shake a terrible conviction that something awful had happened to them.
“Why don’t you go for a lay down, dear?” Clementine suggested. “Or a bath?”
Marianne knew she must look a dreadful sight. And her very bones ached with weariness. But she was far too jittery to lay down. She couldn’t leave this room until she heard some news.
Before she could frame a suitable response, running footsteps sounded in the hall. She sucked in a breath, bracing herself for disappointment, and exhaled with sharp relief when a small body barreled into the drawing room and wrapped himself around her legs.
“Toby.”
She bent at the waist so she could embrace him, then scooped him up and held him tightly to her.
“I was so worried about you,” she said, inhaling his little-boy scent which was mingled with that of damp earth.
“There was a man with a pistol. And Nanny didn’t want to leave the room. And then there was smoke,” he told her breathlessly.
“But you’re okay?” She held him away from her and studied his pink cheeks.
He nodded vigorously. “Bear came and we jumped out of the window.”
Marianne blinked at her son. “You jumped out of the window?”
“Into a flower bed, it would seem.” Clementine gave both of them a brief hug before picking pink flower petals from Toby’s dark curls.
“The flowers have a special name. They are hydrangeas,” he articulated slowly, drawing out each syllable.
Marianne was weak with bewilderment. She looked at the door, hoping to see Bear.
“Very well remembered.” Clementine nodded her approval at Toby.
“And we’re going to grow them at a place called The Towers,” he concluded with triumph.
Marianne couldn’t stand a moment longer. She sat down heavily in a wingback chair, still holding onto Toby’s hand as if she might never let him go.
“Where is Bear now?” she asked faintly, helping her son up beside her.
“He hurt his leg.” The little boy presented her with a perfect petal, held between his thumb and forefinger. “This would look pretty in your hair, Mamma.”
“Thank you.” She ducked her head, submitting to Toby’s ministrations while her heart raced. “Is Bear on his way?”
“He told me to run ahead as he might never get up the front steps,” he replied.
“Oh my.” Marianne put a hand to her heart, but Clementine held up her hand and indicated she should stay where she was.
“I’ll look for him,” she declared, stepping gracefully across the drawing room.
“I’ll come too, Aunt Clementine.” Hot hands pressed against Marianne’s legs as Toby clambered down from the chair.
But there was no need. In another moment, Bear appeared in the doorway. His cheeks were smudged with earth and blood, and his unruly hair was strewn with twigs, but he was whole and he was smiling.
“You’re safe.” Marianne flew toward him, remembering about his leg only after she had flung her arms around his shoulders. “Toby said you were hurt.” She tried to step back, to give him space, but Benedict held her tightly.
“We’re all safe now,” he murmured into her hair.
Happy tears filled her eyes. “Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “I can never thank you enough.”
“You do not need to thank me, dearest Marianne.” He put his finger under her chin and looked at her intently. “I love Toby as if he were my own.”
Now the tears spilled from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “But your leg,” she managed. “And your face, it’s all scratched.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Your leg needs the attention of a doctor,” Clementine overruled him. “We shall send for one immediately. And you must lay down on the settee. Do not put more weight on it than you need to.”
“Such a fuss,” Benedict protested, but his sharp intake of breath when he hobbled toward the Chesterfield convinced Marianne that her aunt was right.
She stacked cushions behind his back and beneath his wounded leg, feeling his dark eyes upon her all the while.
“Toby said something about hydrangeas,” she said, embarrassed under the scrutiny.
“Marvellous flowers. So colorful and stately.” He smiled. “We shall grow them in abundance.”
Marianne put a hand to her head. “I think he said that you jumped into them?”
“Ah yes. Rather lucky they were there, actually. They broke my fall. We had to get out of the room. There was gunfire. Smoke.” He waved his hand. “No place for a child.”
“You saved him.” Marianne held the fact close to her. “And you must have broken Toby’s fall. There’s not a scratch on him.”
“He’s a remarkable boy,” Benedict said quietly, his eyes following Toby as he chatted to Clementine by the window. “Courageous. Quick thinking. He’ll make a great soldier.”
“Please God, he will not,” Marianne replied quickly, and they both laughed.
“What’s funny, Mamma?” Toby enquired innocently, coming to stand by her side.
“Nothing. I’m laughing because I’m happy.” She put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, thinking she might never allow him out of her sight again.
“Can we be happy now?” he asked solemnly. “Even though Nanny said bad things?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what bad things Nanny had said, but she didn’t want to put Toby in the awkward position of repeating them.
Instead, she pulled the wingback chair closer to the Chesterfield and snuggled into it, with Toby on her knee. “We can be happy now,” she decreed.
“Bear too?”
“Most definitely.”
“I insist upon it,” Benedict said at the same time.
“And Nanny isn’t coming back?” He twisted around to look at her, his face anxious.
Marianne smoothed back his curls. “Do you want her to come back?”
“No.” He shook his head vigorously.
Benedict cleared his throat. “If I may?” He waited for Marianne’s nod before continuing. “I believe Nanny may be kept occupied by the Bow Street Runners for some time. They had quite a few questions for her.”
Marianne felt her eyes widen. “She was working against us?”
He nodded. “You remember Toby’s old nurse? The one who dosed him with Godfrey’s Cordial?”
“I do,” Marianne shuddered, then glanced up at her aunt who had come to join their little group. “I dismissed her immediately.”
“Of course.” Clementine nodded.
“She has been unable to find a new position.” Benedict grimaced as he shifted on the settee. “And it seems she holds you responsible.”
Marianne tried to keep calm, aware of the little boy who had already been through so much. “So, Edgar had nothing to do with it?”
“I believe Edgar was the brains behind the operation. And he would have pocketed the cash.” Benedict’s face twisted with distaste. “But it turns out Nanny was related to your old nurse, and she was only too happy to be Edgar’s accomplice.”
Marianne buried her face in Toby’s soft hair, trying to make sense of it all. Ever since her marriage to Victor, so many people had been working against her.
“The main thing is, it’s over now.” Clementine’s voice was gentle.
“Are you going to be happy too, Aunt Clementine?” Toby piped up.
“I’m going to try my hardest, young man.” She leaned over and squeezed her great-nephew’s hand. “I know that I can stop worrying about your mamma’s future happiness.”
“Because she has Bear?” Toby was tying it all together.
“That’s right.”
“And we can all be together now.” Marianne smiled at the man who had brought such hope into their lives.
“There’s nothing to stop us,” Benedict said, his eyes gazing into hers.
Clementine cleared her throat. “Well, forgive me, but there is just one thing. I hope you two have not forgotten the small matter of your wedding?”
Marianne felt a swell of laughter rise inside her. “I had forgotten,” she admitted.
“But I had not.” Benedict was emphatic. “I have been carrying the license around for days.” He patted his inside pocket. “Tomorrow, Marianne and I will be man and wife.”
And so they were.