His Countess For A Week. Sarah Mallory
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all very kind to me and George was like an older brother.’ She added simply, ‘I worshipped him.’
Ran’s fingers tightened around his cup. ‘It was a love match, then.’
‘Of course. Our parents had always wanted the marriage to unite the two families. But you are not to think we were coerced.’ A shadow flickered across her face. ‘I would have married him as soon as I left the schoolroom, but George said we should wait. He did not wish to rush me into a marriage. He thought I might change my mind, but I knew I never should.’
‘And Lady Roffey brought you out? Why did she not take you to London?’
‘It was not necessary. I was happy to live at Revesby Hall.’
‘But the society there must be confined. I thought your husband wanted you to be sure of your feelings?’
‘He did, but I had always loved him. I lived for the few weeks every year that we spent together at Revesby Hall.’
‘He did not live there all the time?’
‘He was often away, visiting friends, and he used the family’s townhouse when he was in London.’
‘While you remained with his parents.’
‘You make it sound as if I was a prisoner,’ she retorted. ‘It was not like that at all.’ She gave a huff of impatience. ‘Oh, this is ridiculous! It does nothing to help me find out what happened to my husband.’
She made to rise and he said quickly, ‘Please, do not go yet. I beg your pardon, but I am trying to understand it all.’ She settled back into her seat and he continued. ‘This Mr Letchmore. You did not see him again? If he was such a good friend, did he not come to the funeral, even after their falling-out?’
‘I told you, he had gone abroad. He sent his condolences, but at the time I was glad he did not come. George had cursed him bitterly during his final days.’ She clasped her hands and looked at Ran. ‘It was only afterwards, when I learned the state of George’s finances, I suspected something had happened at that house party.’
She shook her head when Ran offered her more coffee. He refilled his own cup then said quietly, ‘What is it you suspect?’
‘Is it not obvious? They tricked him out of his money. You will recall last night that Lady Meon herself said they play deep.’
‘It is not against the law to gamble large sums,’ he said gently. ‘Or to lose them.’
‘No, I am aware of that, but George was the kindest, gentlest of men! To see him when he came home that last time, so angry, his health ruined.’ She put a hand to her cheek. ‘He tried to keep in spirits, for my sake, but often I heard him cursing his ill fortune. And once, when I went into his room, he told me he should never have gone to Meon House, that they were all thieves.’ She frowned. ‘At least, I think that is what he meant. It was very difficult to understand him at the end.’
‘You nursed him?’
‘No, not as much as I would have liked. Lady Roffey thought I might be carrying his child and said I owed it to my baby to keep away from the sickroom. She feared the shock and distress might be harmful. How could I argue, when Dr Philps agreed with her?’ Arabella sighed. ‘We had been married such a short time, I suppose it was natural that the doctor should defer to George’s parents. Sometimes, I think, if we had lived in our own house, it might have been different.’ Her shoulders lifted, then fell again. ‘And in the end, I was glad of their support when he...when he died.’
‘I am very sorry. It was very hard for you, to lose your husband so soon after the wedding.’
‘We were together, as man and wife, for less than a week after the ceremony,’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘Then he was obliged to go to London because he had received word from a friend who needed his help. But does that not show you what a good, kind man I had married?’ When Ran said nothing, she went on, a hint of defiance in her voice, ‘George would much rather have been with me. He told me so.’
‘And from town he went directly to Devon?’
‘Yes. His visit to Meon House had been planned for months and he could not cry off. His parents were not happy about it, but they, too, had to acknowledge that if he had given his word then he must go. When he came home, he was dying. But you must see now why I want justice for him?’ She looked at him, determination in every line of her body and a sparkle in her eyes. ‘If someone is responsible for George’s death, then they should pay!’
Randolph said nothing. He knew only too well the temptations awaiting any young man with money in his pocket. His gut feeling was that this was a wild goose chase, that she was clutching at any straw rather than face the fact that her husband was a wastrel. But if he did not help her, she would go off alone and into heaven knew what danger. He stirred his coffee, giving himself time to think.
‘I have been over and over everything,’ she said, a frowning gaze fixed on the table. ‘Meon House is the only clue I have to where he was and what he was doing before his death. I know there is a link. I am sure of it.’
‘Then we must find out more about Lady Meon,’ he said. ‘But there is little we can do for the moment. As it is such a fine day, I thought I would take a stroll through the gardens and take stock of what I own here. Will you come with me?’ The look on her face made him laugh. ‘You are not cut out to be a spy, madam. I can read your thoughts quite clearly in your countenance. You want to drive over to Meon House immediately and talk to the lady, do you not? However, I suspect you might find she has not yet left her room. Besides, unless you are prepared to tell her who you are and ask her outright about her house party, I doubt you will discover anything useful by such a direct approach.’
‘No, you are right.’ She gave him a rueful smile. ‘I need to cultivate patience, do I not? Very well, my lord. Allow me time to fetch my shawl and I will join you.’
It was cold, but the sun was shining when they went out of doors and there was the merest scattering of small clouds sailing across the blue sky. After making a tour of the stables, service buildings and kitchen gardens, all of which they agreed were in a relatively good state of repair, they made their way to the pleasure grounds to the south and west.
The ground sloped away from the house and the gardens were laid out over a series of terraces, providing extensive views across fields and wooded hills as far as the Tamar. Winter had not yet tightened its grip and many of the distant trees still retained their red and gold leaves.
They progressed to the lowest level, where a stone wall separated the formal gardens from the surrounding park. A wide gravel path ran between the lawn and herbaceous borders where a few late-flowering plants still bloomed. Randolph breathed in deeply, realising again how much he had missed the bracing chill of an English autumn.
He had thought conversation might be difficult, given his past and Arabella’s reason for being at Beaumount, but within minutes they were chatting away like old friends. He was grateful that she did not ask him about his life in Australia, how he had survived, how he had suffered. Instead she took inspiration from their surroundings and asked him about the landscape and the plants to be found on the other side of the world.
‘I attended a talk in Lincoln last year, about Captain Cook’s voyages to the southern hemisphere,’ she told him. ‘England must look and feel very different to you now.’
‘It is colder,’ he said. ‘And the birds are generally smaller and less colourful. Quieter, too. Less raucous. I had forgotten how soothing it is to hear the gentle hoot of an owl or the morning trill of birdsong. And the flowers around Sydney Cove are very different from those in England. They have vibrant colours to match a hot country where the rocks steam after a summer storm.’ He waved at the near-empty flower beds. ‘Although I am sure these are very pretty in the summer months. But it is the night sky where I notice the change most. The different stars.’