A Suitable Husband Read online

  Chapter Fourteen

  Oliver snorted in disgust and headed back to the estate office were his prisoner was being held. Time enough to smooth Sarah’s ruffled sensibilities when his task was completed. Jenkins and Peters stood guard. The man, weasel-faced and stinking, had slowly been regaining his bravado. This ebbed away when his captor appeared in the door.

  ‘Has he said anything?’

  Jenkins shook his head. ‘No, sir, not a word. I reckon he’s waiting to sing to you.’

  Oliver twisted a chair and straddled it, leaning casually on the back, a look of expectancy on his face. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Davey, sir.’

  ‘Excellent, we’re progressing already. Who sent you?’ Davey hesitated a little too long. Oliver’s arm shot out and squeezed the prisoner’s throat. ‘You are to answer immediately, Do I make myself clear?’ The softly spoken words had a chilling impact.

  He released his crushing grip and resumed his relaxed position, arms folded across the chair back. ‘I will try again, who sent you?’

  ‘Richard Fitzwilliam.’

  The name sounded familiar. ‘Why?’

  ‘He found out that Edward `averstock is heir to the estates wot `e wos expecting to get so he gets us to kill `im afore any other cove knows it.’

  Oliver’s smile did not reassure Davey. ‘And where am I to discover this Richard Fitzwilliam?’

  ‘I ain’t got a notion; we never met the gent; a flash `arry came to us at our crib wiv the instructions and blunt.’ Observing Oliver’s sceptical expression he babbled on. ‘It wos by chance the flash cove let slip the name or else I’d not know that neither.’

  ‘Describe the man to me.’

  ‘He wos tall and fin and wos wearing all black, and `is face wos dark as well. I reckon as he wos about forty, or there abouts.’

  Oliver was satisfied the man was telling the truth. ‘Very well. Lock him up somewhere, Jenkins. Lord Hepworth can deal with him now. Come back here when you’ve disposed of him.’

  Jenkins grabbed Davey’s arm and pulled him roughly to his feet. Weapons were not necessary; the man was no longer a threat to anyone. He was led away terrified and broken. He probably envied his partners, lying snugly in the soil, their troubles already over. His were just beginning.

  Oliver yawned and stretched. The interview had gone well, finally he had the information he wanted. The mystery was solved. He wondered how Sarah would react when he told her that her son was heir to an earldom.

  Then his eyes narrowed and his expression hardened again. Matters were not over yet. He had dealt with the minions now he must deal with the paymaster. Although he recognised the name of Fitzwilliam he had no real idea where the family were located. Lord Hepworth might know; peers of the realm were not so plentiful that they did not at least recognize each other’s names. Jenkins and Peters were returning. He stood up.

  ‘Where have you stowed him?’

  ‘In the wood store, Captain. We trussed him up like a fowl, he won’t be going anywhere.’

  Jenkins grinned evilly. ‘Apart from to the gibbet, that is.’

  Oliver nodded. ‘Good; I’m afraid your work’s not over. I might want you to travel post to London. If Lord Hepworth can’t help us you’ll have to find out what you can about the Fitzwilliam family, and about Richard Fitzwilliam in particular.’

  ‘I’ve heard that name before, Captain. Wasn’t the Colonel of the 15th Light a Fitzwilliam?’

  Oliver banged the table. ‘Of course! How stupid of me! Jack Fitzwilliam; he was a good man and died a hero’s death at Talevera. I wonder if it’s the same family.’ He stopped, lost in thought. ‘Go to Horse Guards, I will give you a note; they should be able to tell us more.’ He scowled. ‘However well-connected, Richard Fitzwilliam will pay for his plotting.’

  ‘Topping an aristo is a hanging offence, Captain.’

  Oliver’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Good God, man, I was not intending to murder him. No, I will force him to leave the country, exile him abroad.’

  Jenkins grinned. ‘Do we wait for Lord Hepworth before we leave? If he knows about the bastard it will save us a load of trouble.’

  ‘Obviously you wait. Jenkins, tell the others to stand down from full alert, but I want the regular patrols around the perimeter to continue for the present.’

  Jenkins and Peters went about their duties and Oliver returned to the house. He couldn’t expect their visitor for at least another hour which gave him ample time to convey the astounding news to Sarah.

  ***

  The only member of the household delighted by their return was Rags. He had regained a great deal of his old bounce and raced from room to room in an ecstasy of wagging. His exuberance cheered them, for Tom’s death was weighing heavily on all their hearts.

  After a brisk wash and change of clothes Sarah began to feel calmer. Had she overreacted? She needed to talk to Harriet urgently before taking an irrevocable decision. A tray with dainty bread-and-butter slices, cold cuts and pickles, had been placed, and ignored, on the side table in the sitting-room. Edward had fully recovered from his fright and was downstairs eating in the kitchen and sharing his experiences with anyone prepared to listen. Unlike his mother his appetite was unimpaired by his adventure.

  Sarah sat at her desk and tried to find appropriate words to tell her sister, Elspeth, and her dear papa, her marriage was cancelled. She did not, at first, hear the soft tap on the door.

  Obviously neither had Beth.

  ‘Come in,’ she called, knowing already that it could only be one person, insensitively invading her personal sanctum.

  Oliver opened the door and stepped in, his expression watchful, unsure of his reception. ‘I must apologize for disturbing you, Sarah, but it’s imperative that we speak.’ She opened her mouth to protest but he forestalled her. ‘Not later, now. It will not wait.’

  She sighed loudly. ‘Oh, very well, you had better come in.’

  He made no attempt to approach her, but remained just inside the closed-door. ‘I know why the attempts have been made to your life and by whom.’

  Sarah sat up and her severe expression relaxed a little. ‘The prisoner told you? Tell me, quickly.’

  ‘It appears that Edward’s heir to an earldom and vast estates and the heir presumptive, one Richard Fitzwilliam, wished to dispose of him before you discovered this for yourselves.’

  Sarah’s face blanched. Her son to be an earl? It could not be true? He was a little boy, her only child, how could he have connections elsewhere to people she had never heard of?

  ‘Fitzwilliam? It must mean our name is Fitzwilliam not Haverstock. I can hardly take it in. Are you sure of this, Oliver?’ In her agitation she had forgotten her resolve to distance herself.

  ‘As sure as I can be without confirmation from London. Hepworth might know something of the family; you can ask him when he arrives later.’

  ‘I am finding it difficult to grasp. If Edward is heir to an earl will it change our lives?’

  ‘I fear it might; if the present incumbent is old, Edward could well inherit before his majority.’ He half smiled. ‘I would say it’s fortuitous that we’re about to be married. The earl is Edward’s legal guardian and is entitled to demand he makes his home with him. Once we’re married this won’t be possible.’

  All vestige of colour vanished from her cheeks. She stared at Oliver in horror. This could not be happening, was she to be forced to marry him after all, or risk losing the most precious thing in her life?

  Oliver mistook her pallor for fear the unknown aristocrat would send for Edward before the knot was tied. ‘We can bring forward the date, Sarah. The ceremony can take place three weeks from now, we don’t have to wait if you don’t wish to. ‘

  ‘Why should this earl decide to send for Edward now? It could be weeks or
even months before anything is heard from him.’ She leant forward as a possible solution occurred to her. ‘Indeed, if only Richard Fitzwilliam knew of Edward’s existence maybe the earl will continue to remain in ignorance. I, for one, will not be contacting him.’

  ‘Sarah, you’ve not thought this through. Richard Fitzwilliam will be forced to flee the country, or risk imprisonment or worse. Do you think his absence will go unnoticed?’

  Sarah finally understood. She glared at Oliver. ‘Fitzwilliam will have no need to flee if you do not force him to.’

  ‘Good God, Sarah, the man tried to have you murdered. He cannot be allowed to get away with it.’

  ‘It was my life, and Edward’s, that was at risk, not yours. I do not wish him punished. I do not wish Edward to know about any of this. His inheritance is already more than enough. He has no need of a title or anyone else’s monies. Why can that not be the end of it?’

  ‘It’s not for you to accept or deny Edward’s patrimony. He’s a child now but will be an adult soon enough. It must be his choice, not yours.’

  Sarah’s eyes widened. ‘I had not considered that. You are correct. It will be Edward’s decision, but not now. My keeping him here with me will not prevent him from inheriting in the future. The title and estates will be there whether he is aware of it or not.’

  ***

  Oliver’s temper finally frayed. ‘And what of the estates he owns? You would let them fall into disrepair and the tenants starve because you’re too lost in your own selfish world to understand that responsibilities go hand-in-hand with privilege?’ They glared at each other like a pair of scrapping cockerels in a pit, looking for a weakness they could exploit.

  As they remained poised on the brink of further warfare he unravelled the subplot of Sarah’s tirade. She had changed her mind. She no longer wished to marry him. They both knew her opinions on the matter would be irrelevant if they were married.

  He saw his dreams and hopes about to fall about his ears. The eventual acquisition of Sarah’s money and estates, which had been his original reason for coming to Rowley, was now irrelevant. He loved Sarah and her son and losing them would destroy him. He blinked and forced his misery deep inside. He still had his pride; Sarah could never know how much her rejection had hurt him.

  ***

  She watched the play of expressions on his face then saw him turn his back and lean his head, for an instant, against the door. He straightened, his head came up and he swung back to face her.

  ‘I release you from your promise, Sarah. I have no wish to lock myself to an unwilling bride. I presume you will inform your family?’

  There was nothing she could say. Her outburst had revealed her intention. Oliver was behaving as a gentleman, allowing her to break the engagement without rancour. ‘You have mistaken the matter, Oliver, I don’t wish to release you from our engagement; I have not changed my mind.’ Who was more astonished by her vehement denial it was impossible to say. Sarah had intended to accept his gracious offer but her mouth had shaped quite the opposite.

  ‘In which case, Sarah, I will, of course, continue to honour your wishes.’ He smiled warmly, all his former animosity gone. ‘I won’t search out Fitzwilliam and be the one to bring his perfidy to light, if that’s what you want.’

  ‘Thank you, Oliver. I know the man deserves to be punished but I believe a higher authority than yours will do the job for us.’

  ‘You must understand the earl may still hear about Edward. Fitzwilliam had the information, so I think it’s inevitable in time it will filter through to him as well.’

  Sarah was not to be discouraged. ‘I, for one, am not going to worry about it. Time enough to take action when it happens.’

  The sound of a carriage of the drive interrupted their tête-à-tête. ‘It is Lord Hepworth. Shall we go down to greet him? I can hardly believe how much has happened to us since we saw him yesterday.’ Her attempt to sound unmoved by what had passed failed dismally. Oliver stood aside, holding open the door for her to pass through.

  To Sarah’s delight Lord Hepworth had brought Harriet with him. She desperately needed the support and advice of another woman. Formalities dealt with Sarah took her friend’s hand.

  ‘I am so glad you have come, Harriet. Shall we leave the gentlemen to their conversation and retire to the small drawing-room?’ Her voice sounded false and strained even to her ears.

  Lord Hepworth fixed Oliver with a speculative stare and said quietly. ‘Something is not right between you two, lad. A blind man in a thunderstorm could see that for himself.’

  Oliver dismissed Lord Hepworth’s concerns ‘There was a problem but I believe it’s over. I will tell you about it later. First, you have a murderer to deal with.’

  ***

  As soon as they were settled comfortably Sarah put the vital question to Harriet. ‘Oliver killed two men yesterday and is proud of it. How would you feel if Hepworth did the same?’

  ‘Honoured to be his wife, of course. All men must be able to protect their families when the occasion demands.’

  ‘But killing, Harriet? Taking another person’s life?’

  ‘Oliver is a soldier, Sarah, my dear. He must have killed dozens, maybe hundreds, of men in the line of duty. Why should two more be a problem to you?’

  Sarah thought for a moment, her friend was correct, part of her must have known Oliver had a violent past - what soldier hadn’t? However, the inescapable fact that she had agreed to marry a man with the blood, from countless deaths, on his hands had only truly registered when he had killed, so calmly, again that morning.

  ‘It is ridiculous, is it not? To be so squeamish at this late stage.’ Her face contorted with misery. ‘Jonathan was so different; he had no violence in him. I don’t believe I ever heard him raise his voice in anger, not even to a servant.’

  ‘I know I should not speak so of my son, but Jonathan was a weak man. He allowed you to rule him and that was not good for either of you. In Oliver you have found an equal. He is a far better match for you than my dear Jonathan was.’

  Sarah’s mouth dropped open. This had been a day for astonishing revelations. ‘Jonathan weak?’ She echoed faintly, too shocked to argue. ‘Yes, I suppose he was. But I loved him, Harriet, and he loved me.’

  ‘I am not disputing that, my love. I merely pointed out to you why you have made a better choice this time.’ Harriet beamed. ‘I have been far happier with Hepworth, you know.’

  A maid came in carrying a tray of refreshments and conversation ceased until she exited again. Sarah watched her friend busy herself with a chocolate drink and cut herself a slice of cake.

  ‘Harriet, I don’t wish to marry Oliver. He guessed my change of heart and offered to release me. For some inexplicable reason I refused and the engagement still stands. But he frightens me. How do I know he will not turn his violence on Edward, or myself, once we are married and are in his power?’

  ‘Fustian, my girl, and you know it. I have never heard such Gothic nonsense! That is not the real reason you are having doubts, is it?’

  Sarah blushed, ashamed to be detected so easily in her prevarication, but refused to give an answer. ‘Edward is the heir to an earldom, which is why someone wished him dead.’ This announcement had the desired effect ‘Good heavens! That would, of course, explain it. Do you know to whom he is heir, Sarah?’

  ‘We know the presumptive heir, the man who organised the attacks, is one Richard Fitzwilliam. But the identity of the earl, and the whereabouts of his estates, is still unknown. We are hoping Hepworth might recognise the name.’

  ‘It is a long time since he marched the corridors of power. He has not taken his seat in the Lords for years, but it is possible he will remember.’

  ‘It would seem that I am a Fitzwilliam, not a Haverstock, which will take some getting used to.’

 
‘I should not bother, my love. You will be a Mayhew in a few weeks’ time, after all.’

  Sarah stiffened. ‘I do not think I should marry Oliver, Harriet. He is not a suitable husband.’

  Harriet chuckled. ‘You’re quite wrong: he will make you a very happy woman, if you give him the chance.’ Sarah opened her mouth to protest but Harriet was in full flow. ‘The sooner you are wed the better, in my opinion. This earl, whoever he might be, is Edward’s legal guardian and could claim him. Your marriage will put Edward out of his reach.’

  Sarah jumped her feet and began to pace the room in agitation. She stopped and faced her friend, eyes bright with indignation. ‘So I must marry a man I don’t care for in order to protect my son?’

  Harriet was unmoved by this outburst. ‘You will be doing no more than hundreds of others have done before you. And, my dear, you at least are not being forced to wed a man twice your age, as often happens to a debutante. Oliver is a handsome and intelligent man. He will make an excellent father and a devastating lover.’

  Sarah’s face went beacon-red; she was shocked to the core by her mother-in-law’s frank speaking. By the time she recovered sufficiently to answer, Harriet had smoothly changed the subject.

  ‘Everything is in hand, my love. Your wedding gown is ready for a fitting. Shall I expect you tomorrow?’

  ‘I cannot contemplate such things until poor Tom is buried.’

  ‘No, of course not, I apologize. I expect the captain will have it all arranged for tomorrow. Tom was well liked in the village; there will be a good turnout at the church. Hepworth will attend, naturally.’ Harriet returned to the tray and poured Sarah a cup of steaming, aromatic chocolate and piled a plate high with cake. ‘Sit down, do, my dear, and have some refreshment. It will calm your nerves.’

  Sarah subsided on the sofa and held out her hand for the cup. Harriet was right. She was doing no more than many women had been obliged to do. Oliver had not changed and neither had she. It was the circumstances that had altered. She finally accepted that her main objection to the union was that matters had been removed from her hands. She was no longer in charge of her own destiny and she resented it, bitterly.