A Vow for an Heiress Page 13

  ‘Rosa, what on earth were you doing with Lord Ashurst?’

  ‘We met while out riding,’ she replied, flopping into a chair and proceeding to pull off her riding boots in a most unladylike fashion. ‘He’s an early riser like me and it seemed perfectly natural for us to ride together.’

  ‘That is all very well, but it is not what I asked. What were the two of you doing together—and to send Thomas home... It was not the proper thing to do.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Clarissa, not proper? What are you talking about? I suppose you think I am shameless—and you may be right. What do you imagine we were doing?’

  ‘Don’t be obtuse, Rosa. Grandmother hasn’t been dead two minutes and already you are gallivanting about the countryside without a care for anything.’

  ‘Please stop it, Clarissa—and I wasn’t gallivanting. You’re beginning to sound like Grandmother. If you must know Lord Ashurst invited me to have breakfast with him at Ashurst Park. I’ve also agreed to marry him—as soon as it can be arranged.’

  Clarissa stared at her with disbelief. ‘Marry him? But that’s ridiculous! You can’t! Goodness! It’s all too soon. A period of mourning has to be respected before either of us can think of marrying. And besides, I was hoping you would return to Barbados with me.’

  ‘No, I won’t do that,’ Rosa said firmly. ‘I refuse to live with you and Andrew when you are married. As much as I miss my home I don’t want to go to Barbados. It wouldn’t be the same. I have decided to remain here.’

  ‘But everything has changed now. Neither of us has to marry a title any more. Lord Ashurst would be marrying you for your money and nothing else.’

  ‘I am not stupid. Do you think I don’t know that?’ Rosa replied sharply. ‘And before you go jumping to conclusions, Clarissa, I asked him to marry me, not the other way round.’

  ‘Oh, Rosa!’ Clarissa exclaimed with distress. ‘How could you? You are too rash for your own good. Some day your impetuosity will get you in trouble. You never take the time to think a situation out before rushing into things. You’ll be so unhappy.’

  ‘Like you would have been, had you married him?’

  ‘Yes. I love you, Rosa. I am the elder and with no one else—except Aunt Clara, who is too far away in London to be of any help—it is my place to protect you.’

  Rosa opened her mouth to protest that she didn’t need to be protected from William and then changed her mind. She thought it incongruous that Clarissa, who was usually so reticent and was prone to tears at the slightest provocation, should suddenly take on the role of her guardian. Rosa didn’t want to argue with her. Standing up and picking up her boots, she padded across the room in her stocking feet to the door. She was unhappily aware of how upset Clarissa was by what she was doing, but she was going to stand by her decision to marry William, no matter what she said, but she loved her sister very much and she hated the distress she was causing her.

  ‘It’s done now, Clarissa,’ she said, looking back at her sister. ‘I am sorry if it upsets you, but I have made up my mind. I want to determine my own future. Where is Dhanu?’

  ‘In the garden with Mishka. Don’t worry. We haven’t let him out of our sight for a moment. He’s a lovely child. I’m going to miss him when I leave.’

  ‘We all will when he has to return to India. I’ll join him in the garden when I’ve changed my clothes.’

  Marching out of the room, she almost bumped into Margaret with her arms full of bed linen. With William’s visitor still very much on her mind and curious about her, Rosa stopped.

  ‘Margaret, I want to ask you something. Do you know Lady Willoughby?’

  ‘Lady Willoughby—Caroline Willoughby of Hampton House?’

  ‘Yes. What can you tell me about her?’

  ‘Well, she’s wealthy in her own right, that I do know—spends a good deal of her time in town. Her husband was a lot older than she was when they married. He died a few years back, leaving her to bring up their son alone—Rupert, he’s called. The Willoughby estate adjoins Ashurst Park to the north. It’s no secret that they have coveted some of Lord Ashurst’s land for years. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Oh—no particular reason—curiosity, I suppose. I met her at Ashurst Park earlier.’

  ‘No doubt she’s heard of Lord Ashurst’s circumstances. I wouldn’t put it past her to put an offer in for the estate. By all accounts she can afford it.’

  ‘But he won’t sell.’

  ‘No? Then as a very wealthy widow—and not an unattractive one if my memory serves me well—she might put herself forward. She won’t be averse to marrying him herself to get her hands on Ashurst Park. As his wife it would enable him to hold on to the estate—and if she were to bear a child, a son, then he would be the next to inherit the title and Ashurst Park.’ She laughed suddenly. ‘Imagine what a feather in her cap that would be. One son the Lord of Hampton House and the other the Earl of Ashurst.’

  Rosa stood and watched Margaret climb the stairs, balancing the pile of linen in her arms. She wondered if she should be worried. Had Lady Willoughby approached William with a proposal of marriage—exactly as she had done? And if so, how would William have responded?

  * * *

  Rosa saw little of William during the days leading up to the wedding that was to be a small ceremony in the chapel at Ashurst Park. Both had much to occupy their time. The demise of the old mistress was felt by all the servants at Fountains Lodge. As they went about their work with heavy hearts, Clarissa and Rosa made preparations for the arrival of Antony Ingram and his family and their own departure. Antony wrote informing them that he would be leaving Scotland with his family a month hence and asked that unless they had made other arrangements the servants were to be kept on.

  Clarissa wrote to Andrew in London to tell him she would be leaving for London the day following the wedding. Rosa instructed her solicitor to inform him of her forthcoming marriage and the financial settlement to Lord Ashurst.

  Clarissa was finding it hard to believe that Rosa was serious about marrying Lord Ashurst.

  ‘If you had asked me to name the last man on earth I would have expected you to marry, it would have been Lord Ashurst—although I have long passed the point where anything you do surprises me.’

  ‘I have to confess that in the beginning I felt exactly the same,’ Rosa replied as they strolled arm in arm in the garden. ‘But I have got to know him better of late. Be happy for me, Clarissa.’

  ‘If it is truly what you want then I am, Rosa. I am going to miss you terribly. I hope Lord Ashurst makes you a good husband. Even though he seems very civilised on the surface, when I met him I thought there was a ruthlessness about him, a forcefulness. When he wants something I believe he will stop at nothing to acquire it. At this moment he wants your money, but I can’t help worrying what he will do when he has it.’

  ‘William is embarrassed by his lack of finances, Clarissa. I do not know him well, but my present impressions are favourable. I trust him so please don’t worry about me. It is what I wish to do.’

  And with that end to the conversation Rosa prepared to become the Countess of Ashurst at Ashurst Park.

  Chapter Six

  Rosa and William were to be married three weeks hence in a small ceremony in the chapel at Ashurst Park.

  William managed to find his way to Fountains Lodge most evenings before Dhanu’s bedtime. These were light-hearted occasions when games that involved everyone were played and Dhanu’s laughter rang through the house. William’s gaze would collide with Rosa’s pleasure-filled eyes. It was amazing how easily she had bonded with Dhanu—she was amazing. A game was in progress when each of them had to pretend to be an animal and the others had to guess what it was. Rosa’s dreadful imitation of a tiger had been guessed by Dhanu and now it was William’s turn. He had everyone guessing and whatever he was meant to be he was very convincing. Unable to ma
ke out what he was supposed to be they gave up—all except Dhanu, who went to him and said in a very low voice, ‘Are you a monster?’

  William dragged him onto his knee, fighting back a laugh as he made the scariest monster face and spoke in a deep voice. ‘I certainly am and I am going eat you up.’

  Dhanu made a sound that could be described as either a scream or a giggle and scrambled from his knee, racing across the room to Rosa and hiding behind her, his laughing face appearing every few seconds from behind her skirts.

  His eyes warm with humour, William watched him, before focusing his attention on Rosa. Something in the way she bent down and hugged Dhanu, telling him he need not be scared of the monster while she was there to protect him, so charming in her laughter, so naturally generous with the boy, made him achingly aware of her as a woman.

  When Dhanu left with Mishka to go to bed, Rosa walked with him to the door.

  ‘I’m happy to know monsters are welcome at Fountains Lodge.’

  She laughed softly. ‘Happy monsters are always welcome. Dhanu loves your teasing and he gets so excited when he knows you are coming.’

  ‘I look forward to coming. The evenings have a tendency to drag and I look forward to the company.’

  Rosa’s heartbeat quickened as she watched him ride away, disappointed that he hadn’t tried to repeat the kiss that had sealed their betrothal.

  * * *

  The day before the marriage ceremony was to take place, William received a weary traveller from India, who had arrived that morning. His name was Ahmet Pandit, Tipu’s most trusted servant and well known to William. He had been born in the palace and claimed privileges accorded to none other of Tipu’s servants. His dark face and the sound of the swift, familiar speech revived memories of the country William would always look upon as his home. William received him with some concern, for he knew he would not have travelled to England unless it was of a serious nature.

  ‘I don’t understand what you are doing here, Ahmet,’ he said when they were comfortably ensconced in the drawing room. He looked at him with some concern. His face was drawn, his eyes bloodshot. ‘You look tired. Are you feeling well?’

  ‘It’s been a long journey, Sahib. I am not a good sailor, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Then you must rest here. How is my good friend Tipu? Well, I hope.’

  ‘It grieves me to tell you that I am the bearer of sad tidings. My master fell ill of a fatal sickness soon after you left. He did not live more than two days.’

  William stared at him in shock. This was indeed a bitter blow. Everything wavered before him. He gripped the back of the nearest chair to steady himself and spoke in a breathless whisper. ‘Dead? Tipu? It’s not possible. Good Lord! He was perfectly all right when I last saw him.’ The words were barely audible, but the horror in them and the shock was unmistakable. ‘How?’

  ‘It was poison.’

  ‘Poison?’ William repeated, unable to believe it. ‘But—who on earth would want to poison Tipu? For what reason?’

  ‘The Rajah is quite beside himself with grief over his brother’s death. It was his wife, the Rani, who poisoned him. Because of his closeness to her husband, she hated Tipu and the fact that he was against her.’

  William tried without success to hide his shock, horror and dismay. ‘And the Rani?’

  ‘Although the poison may not have been administered by her hand, it was certain that she contrived it. She wept—swore she knew nothing about it. The Rajah did not believe her—not when it came to the murder of his brother.’

  ‘What was her punishment?’

  ‘Banishment. The Rajah sent her back to her father in shame.’

  ‘And her sons?’

  ‘They are his sons, too. They will remain at the palace.’

  ‘So, Ahmet, you came all this way to tell me this.’

  ‘No—not exactly. I have come for the Prince, Dhanu. His father misses him. He realises why Tipu did what he did—how he feared for the boy. The Rajah was so blinded by his devotion for his wife that he could not see what she was doing.’

  ‘He never was capable of distinguishing between friends and enemies.’

  ‘Now the danger has been removed he wants him to return. With three sons his succession is secure.’

  ‘While the Rani was at the palace her arms were far reaching. If anything had happened to the Rajah, she would no longer have enjoyed the high status as his wife. To secure her position further, Dhanu had to be replaced by one of her own sons. She knew Tipu had asked me to take Dhanu away. She sent two of her henchmen to England to kill the boy. I believe one of them to be her brother Kamal Kapoor. Already one attempt has been made on Dhanu’s life.’

  ‘This I did not know, but it does not surprise me. I know Kamal Kapoor. He is a cruel, ambitious man who will stop at nothing to achieve his aim. If you are correct and he is one of the men, then Dhanu’s life is in grave danger. Where are these men?’

  ‘Unfortunately I have no idea. They were seen briefly in Ashurst village. I have made discreet enquiries, but they seem to have vanished into thin air.’

  ‘Will you let me take Dhanu back to India?’

  ‘I cannot stop you, Ahmet—nor would I want to. If his father has summoned his return, then that is what he must do.’

  ‘I have letters for you—one from the Rajah and one from Tipu. It was important to him that he wrote to you before he died. You will read them. Everything is explained. The Rajah is grateful to you for keeping his son safe—you will see how grateful when you read the letter.’ Getting to his feet, he passed the letters to William.

  William quickly scanned the Rajah’s letter, unable to believe his generosity when he saw the large amount of money he had gifted to him as his gratitude for taking care of his son at a difficult time. The letter from Tipu was an emotive one. With not long to live and knowing of his friend’s struggle to save his estate, he had bequeathed an equally astounding sum of money.

  Waiting a moment for it all to sink in and what it would mean to his future, raising his eyes, William looked at Ahmet, meeting his quiet gaze. ‘Do you know what is written in the letters?’

  Ahmet nodded. ‘Tipu and the Rajah did me the honour of reading them to me before they were sealed, so that I should realise how necessary it was to reach you quickly. I have further papers that you must take to your bank—and for you to instruct your solicitor accordingly.’

  ‘But—I cannot possibly accept this. I look for no reward for taking care of Dhanu.’

  ‘Please, Sahib, you must accept it. Your father saved Tipu’s life when he was a boy. The Rajah and his father before him owe him a great debt.’

  ‘My father was a surgeon, Ahmet. He asked for no reward.’

  ‘Please—it is a token of his esteem and gratitude. It is a great service you have performed. You must accept it. Our ways are sometimes not the same, but I hope you will allow me to convey my master’s gratitude to you. He begs that you will accept his offering in token of the thanks which he cannot adequately express himself. He realises just how foolish he has been, how blind to Dhanu’s needs, so it is fitting that I, on his behalf, place myself at your feet.’

  To William’s surprise this most dignified messenger went down on his knees and put his forehead on William’s shoes. William was well used to this form of expressing gratitude from the Indians and always found it embarrassing, although he knew it was custom.

  ‘Please, Ahmet, get up.’ William helped him get back on his feet.

  ‘It would offend the Rajah deeply for you to refuse his gift.’

  ‘Then what can I say? Suddenly I have much to think about. In the meantime you will stay here, Ahmet, and enjoy my hospitality. I will make arrangements to return to London with you and see you safely on board ship for India.’

  ‘Thank you. That is most generous of you. How is Dhanu? I imagine he finds Engla
nd very different from India.’

  ‘He does, but he’s settled down well. I had my doubts at first, wondering how it would affect him—dispossessed of his home and his father and cast adrift in an alien world. His nurse, Mishka, is much attached to him. He is an inquisitive child—and mischievous. I have to keep a guard over him at all times since he has a habit of wandering off when something of interest catches his eye.’

  ‘I look forward to seeing him—and I, too, will keep an eye on him.’

  * * *

  When Ahmet had been shown to his room, in the silence of his study William thought about his friend Tipu. With his fists clenched in anger, he dwelt on the cruelty of the woman who had taken Tipu’s life. He fought to control the churning whirlpool of emotion that his loss had wrought in him. Bittersweet memories of the happy times he had spent with his friend came to mind, and sadness rose inside him that he had not been there for him in his hour of need. Tipu’s death, coming so soon after his cousin’s, was hard for him to accept, and he grieved for them both.

  Forcing some order to his thoughts, he considered what the astoundingly generous gift from the Rajah would mean to him. It changed everything. There was more than enough money to cover the debts on the estate. He no longer needed Rosa’s money. With cool logic he realised he had to put an end to it—and to reverse his decision to marry her. She wasn’t in love with him any more than he was with her. He told himself he would be releasing her from entering into a loveless marriage and she would be free to follow her desire to help those underprivileged children in the city.

  But he knew he would be unable to dismiss her from his life or his mind so easily. His passion for her was torn asunder by guilt. In the past hard logic and cold reason had always conquered his lust—with Rosa it was different. At that moment he realised that rejecting her, as he must, was the hardest thing in his life.