Chapter 13
When June came down to breakfast the next morning, Cameron was already gone. For a terrible few minutes, she thought he may have left entirely. But after a quick word with one of the footmen, she confirmed he was still at Windermere but had gone out for the day to explore the surrounding countryside on horseback.
Alone.
It was understandable, she told herself. He wouldn’t wish to see her now.
He had come into her life again unexpectedly and soon he would be gone. He had done what he could for her. He had done more than most men might have. But soon she would be alone again. She had to reconcile herself to that. These last few glorious days in his presence were ending.
She had cleared up what she could. At least now he knew she had not betrayed him ten years ago–or at least, not intentionally.
But now he believed her a coward, which might be worse. She lived, trapped with her child’s murderer.
The part which she knew Cameron was unlikely to forgive was that she had trapped him, too. Taking away the Highlander’s right to seek out justice and mete his wrath upon John Fairchild.
She slipped out of the house shortly after breakfast.
The house guests were entertaining themselves. John had organized a picnic by the lake in the afternoon. She was expected to be there. But in the meantime, she had a few hours to herself and meant to spend them alone.
She walked across the manor grounds slowly, breathing in the deep, rich scents of summer. Fresh grass. The soft hum of bees buzzing lazily amidst the flowers. From neighboring pastures came the distant bleating of sheep.
The Dowager House came into view and June stopped. She had taken the path towards the formal gardens which lay adjacent to the house. Outside on the lawn, she could see Horatia lying back in a chair while the youngest children played croquet on the lawn.
For a moment, she contemplated going another way.
But then it was too late. Horatia was rising to her feet and waving her over.
Slowly, June made her way toward the house. She greeted the children first. They were sweet and amiable, a boy and a girl of seven and eight. There was a younger boy, too, but he must have gone out for a walk with his Nurse. The eldest, William, was thirteen and in his first year at Eton.
“Did you have a good time last night? I certainly did,” Horatia gushed as June approached. “What a wonderful evening. What a wonderful little ball. John quite outdid himself with the entertainment. That orchestra from London! Why, I believe some of the neighbors were extremely impressed.”
The orchestra hadn’t been the only thing to make a strong impression on their neighbors. June had seen more than one family discreetly steal away after Horatia’s presence had been made known.
John believed his relationship with his cousin to be a steadfast secret. But the truth was, it was common knowledge in the little rural region surrounding Windermere. Servants talked and always would.
And a woman could simply not give birth to three children out of wedlock without people wondering who their father was.
The real surprise for June was the extent of John and Horatia’s brazenness. Before this, they had been at least somewhat discreet.
After all, men had always had mistresses. They always would.
But men customarily did not invite their mistresses to the family dinner table. June had to wonder if there would ever be another house party like this one again.
It quite shamed her to know that Mrs. Pembroke had brought her young daughter to their house without knowing that John’s mistress would be present there so much of the time.
But June had not been able to bring herself to tell the sweet matron. She could only hope that Miss Pembroke’s opportunities would not be jeopardized by the questionable company she had accidentally kept for one week in the country.
“It was a very nice evening,” June agreed. “I’m glad you had a good time.”
“Are you?”
The question took June aback. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Why don’t you come inside?” Horatia suggested, a small smile playing on her lips. “We’ll talk privately, away from the children.”
There was nothing June wanted to do less, but nevertheless, she followed Horatia inside the house.
The morning room of the Dowager House was decorated in clashing shades of purple and green. Horatia took a seat behind the desk she used for correspondence, then swiveled to face June.
“I don’t believe you really are, you know.”
“You don’t believe I am what?” June was starting to lose her patience. “I believe I’ll return to my walk, Horatia. I don’t think this was a very good idea.”
“Nonsense. We don’t spend enough time together. Especially considering what close neighbors we are.”
“Yes, and there’s a very good reason for that,” June said, as evenly as she could.
Horatia gave a shrill laugh and leaned back in her seat, a finger trailing over a large leather-bound book that sat on the desk in front of her. “I’m not sure what you could possibly mean.”
June was not prone to fits of strong emotion. Much of her life involved keeping emotion carefully in check. With John as a husband, she had quickly been forced to do so. But then, she had always had unusually good self-control. She hid her true feelings much of the time, especially around John and Horatia.
Fortunately, she was not often forced to spend a great deal of time with Horatia. Up until now, John had kept up something of a wall between the two women. He would go off for discreet visits. June never cared to inquire where he had been as some wives might have done.
The truth was, if Horatia could keep John occupied, so much the better. Though it was horrible to have to say so about one’s own husband.
But over the course of the house party, the invisible wall seemed to be coming down. John had never dared to invite Horatia to formal gatherings before. Yet now she had practically become his guest of honor.
All of this had been done without June’s knowledge or consent. It shamed June that her proximity to Horatia and the knowledge that Horatia was the earl’s cousin meant that their guests immediately accepted her presence and trusted that she was a woman of good reputation.
June had been forced to play a trick upon her guests.
Perhaps this was what made her say, “Oh, please, Horatia. At least between us, can we stop pretending?”
Horatia’s fingers had been drumming on the book in front of her. The cover was embossed with gold lettering. Horatia had never been a reader so long as June had known her. But perhaps that had changed. Perhaps it was a particularly compelling novel.
The drumming stopped. Horatia was eying her now with a thoughtful expression. One might even say there was a gleam in her pretty dark brown eyes.
“Very well. If that is what you wish.” She shrugged.
“I did not particularly wish for any of this,” June said. “And now I think we are quite through here. I wish you a pleasant morning.”
She turned to go, gripping the book and parasol she carried like lifelines.
“Wait.” There was an air of command in Horatia’s tone which riled June.
She ignored the instruction and continued moving towards the door.
“I said ‘wait’!” Now the tone had become annoyed.
June stopped and turned around slowly. “If you have something to say to me, Horatia, please say it quickly.”
“You ought to be nicer to me, you know.”
June stared at the woman who was her husband’s mistress. She could not blame Horatia for all of her sorrows and would never try to. She had little doubt John would have abused any wife he had married. And she had little doubt she would have been fairly unhappy with any husband who was not Cameron.
But still, this woman had brought a greater measure of misery and humiliation to her life than might have been present otherwise.
June had long suspected that the relationship between John and his cousin had begun before his marriage.
She had even sometimes wondered if the son who was supposedly John’s brother’s child was in fact his own.
“I’m not sure why you would ever think that,” she said.
“Then I shall enlighten you,” Horatia said with a small smile. “We are going to be spending a great deal of time together. We should endeavor to get along. Or,” she added after a pause. “To give the appearance that we do, in any case.”
June felt a knot begin to grow in the pit of her stomach. “I had no plans to spend more time with you. After the house party, I had assumed things would go back to their regular routine.” With John slipping away to his mistress and June pretending she didn’t notice.
“Ah, but when the house party ends, we’ll all be going to London,” Horatia said triumphantly.
June stared. “But… the children.”
Horatia waved a hand. “They’ll remain here, of course. With their nurse and the servants. No, it will just be you, myself, and John.” She smiled at June. “A very cozy trio.”
The knot in June’s stomach was starting to make her feel rather ill. “John has said nothing to me about any of this. You’ve never accompanied us to London before.”
And for Horatia to do so now would be a colossal mistake. Did she truly expect that the earl and countess would escort her into good society? Take her to Almack’s perhaps?
“Your presence at this house party has already been a faux-pax of the highest order,” June said carefully. “If you had both spoken to me of your plans beforehand, I would have said so. John has risked damaging his reputation in a way I’m not sure can ever be undone should it get out.”
“And that is why we did not speak to you beforehand,” Horatia snapped. “John is quite capable of deciding such things for himself.”
Or with Horatia to instruct him.
June thought for a moment. “If you join us in London, I presume you will want to accompany us to dinners, the theater, that sort of thing.”
“Of course.” Horatia sniffed. “It would be stupid to do otherwise.”
“And how do you expect to be invited to these outings? You are not known to any of John’s friends.”
“Oh, John will arrange it all, I’m sure,” Horatia said dismissively.
June stared. “Horatia, you cannot possibly think that word of your four children, three of whom were born out of wedlock, will not eventually reach London. It’s an absolute miracle that our guests have not already figured it out.”
“Nonsense. Men do it all the time.”
June shook her head. “Men are men. We are women. The rules are far more stringent and you know this very well.”
Horatia’s expression turned nasty. “What I know is that it sounds as if you are saying you are better than me, June. As if you are refusing to stand by me socially. If that is the case, I’m sure John will have a great deal to say about it.”
June had no doubt that her husband could all but force her to go along with this ludicrous plan.
“It’s not me I’m thinking of,” she said desperately. “It’s John’s own reputation. This will destroy him and the family name, Horatia. Moreover, it will damage William’s chances at ever making a good match for himself when the time comes.” William was Horatia’s eldest boy and John’s heir. “Can’t you please try to think of that? It has nothing to do with you or I, but with this entire family, of which you and I are a part.”
“Of course,” Horatia sneered. “You have only the Fairchilds’ best interests at heart. Not your own. Even though you have never been a part of this family. Not truly. Selfish and conniving, that’s what you are. A greedy outsider.”
June could take it no longer. “Your cousin married me only for my wealth and then ran through most of it as quickly as he possibly could. He has never treated me as a husband should a wife and he has broken his marriage vows with you countless times. All while I have stood by and been as submissive and obedient a wife as I could. Yet you say I have not done my part for this family and that I am conniving.” She felt a spasm of hysterical laughter rising in her throat.
Horatia’s eyes flashed. “You see me only as John’s mistress. But I assure you, I am much more than that.”
“You are a woman and a mother. I do not mean to dismiss your worthiness,” June said, struggling to find Christian kindness. “Perhaps under other circumstances we might even have been friends. But now I beseech you to do what is right for your children. Should you come to London, William’s name will be raked through the mud. You and your other children will gain a notoriety no mother could possibly wish for.”
“Ah, and you would know so much about being a good mother, would you?” Horatia spat. “When you have no children of your own. When you could not even bear a single living child.” She smiled in a way so cruel that June felt a tear slide down her cheek.
“I lost my baby, that is true,” June whispered. “I have longed for another ever since.”
“But you will never have one. Never, ever. I can assure you of that,” Horatia crowed. “Your husband despises you. Why, he does not even visit your bed. He has no wish to see you bear his heir.”
June studied the other woman carefully. “You mean because you already have?”
Horatia lifted her chin. “There is only one true wife in this room, June. And believe me, it isn’t you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” June breathed. “What are you saying?”
Horatia smiled. “It means you should prepare yourself to escort me to London and to be the best friend to me you can possibly be. For I assure you, if you don’t, I will see that your world comes crumbling down around you.”
Horatia’s hands were moving again, rubbing the book in front of her as if it were the back of a small, precious child.
“What’s in the book, Horatia?” June took a step closer. She caught sight of the title. Parish Register. “Does that book have something to do with this?”
She took one more step and was able to glimpse the words just below. Windermere Parish. Then a set of dates–no, they were years. But June could not make out which ones. And then Horatia was pulling the book towards her and flipping it over, shoving it into a drawer in the desk and slamming it shut.
June’s heart hammered. Why on earth would Horatia be in the possession of a parish register?
Windermere Parish.
The church did not even exist anymore. It had burned to the ground on the night John’s brother, Reginald Fairchild, had died. The former earl had been caught up in the fire that night. John had tried to save him but failed. He still had the burn marks on his arms to prove it.
That had been more than thirteen years ago.
“Nothing that concerns you.” Horatia rose to her feet and smoothed down her skirt. For a moment, she looked almost nervous. “I was robbed, you know. I have always believed that. Robbed of what should have been mine, by right.”
“What do you mean? Who has robbed you?”
“Why, you have, of course.”
“By doing what?” June asked in wonderment. “By marrying John?”
“He married you when no one else would. To save this place.”
“Well, he could certainly not have married you,” June pointed out. It was against the law to marry one’s brother’s widow. Or else that might have been a very tidy solution for John and Horatia’s awkward problem.
“I should have been the Countess of Windermere,” Horatia said, her face growing angry. “All along it should have been me. Me hosting the house parties. Me by John’s side when he went to Town. I’ve stood on the sidelines for far too long, content with my lot. But as I’ve told John, I won’t stand for it anymore. No, I shall not.” She tossed her head. “Your life will simply have to change. I’m sure you’ll learn to accommodate my presence in it.”
June felt sick. She wasn’t sure she could accommodate Horatia as it was, certainly not as a permanent fixture in the London townhouse which was much more cramped than the manor. Or by her side as they attended soirees and balls… At least, until the invitations dried up and their friends disappeared.
Not that June would necessarily mind the disappearance of forced excursions and social pressures…and the countless false friends she had made through John’s connections. She could live without all of those.
But John really would be destroyed. And William was an innocent child, as were the others.
“The house party was a test. An experiment if you will,” Horatia was saying. “As you can see, it’s been going swimmingly. Without a hitch. I’ve been a spectacular smash. Everyone adores me.”
June did her best not to roll her eyes. “Yes, you’ve charmed our guests. But that’s without them knowing who and what you truly are, Horatia. Once they all find out…”
“They won’t find out,” Horatia snapped. “Secrets can be kept. And for longer than you seem to think. Keep your own mouth shut and everything will be fine.”
All June could do was nod. “I believe this conversation is over.” She did not bother wishing Horatia a good day. Her own pleasant mood had evaporated.
The only blessing was that, as she emerged from the house, the sky opened up in a torrential downpour.
She lifted her face heavenward and felt the summer rain caress her cheeks.
John’s picnic would have to be called off. Which was just as well, for there was nothing June was dreading more than being around her guests until she’d had time to process Horatia’s horrific revelations.
She walked slowly back across the lawn, not bothering to raise her parasol. The rain was too heavy for that. She’d simply change her clothes once she got back inside.
The image of the book on Horatia’s desk kept flashing through her mind. A parish records book. Why would Horatia have it?
It was from the Windermere Parish. And yet, that should have been impossible. Everything in the church had been burned to cinders the night of the fire. Why would one record book have survived when no others had been found? And why would it have remained in such pristine condition, with not even a scratch?
There was only one true wife in the room, Horatia had claimed. What had she meant by saying such a thing? Did she believe her marriage to John’s brother was more valid somehow than June’s own?
June turned the strange words over and over in her mind as she walked back towards the house.
Suddenly she stopped in her tracks.
What was it Horatia had said?
I will see that your world comes crumbling down around you.
She had to get her hands on the book she had seen.
For what Horatia saw as a threat, June saw as an inkling of hope.