Carla Kelly - A Regency Officer's Wedding

They sipped their tea. When the silence was nearly unendurable, the marquis turned slightly to face Admiral Bright. ‘You do not know who I am?’ he asked, his tone frigid.

‘My lord, I do not.’

‘Perhaps you will know this name: Thomas Place.’

Admiral Bright set down his tea cup with a click. ‘I know that name as well as my own, my lord. Was he your son?’

‘My only child.’

‘Lieutenant Thomas Place, Viscount Malden,’ Bright murmured. He stood up and walked to the window and back again, the marquis’s eyes on him. ‘He made sure that none of us would use his title, so he was Mr Place to me. I had to bark at him a time or two, but he was a good lad. I was his captain.’

‘I know you were, Admiral,’ the marquis said, rising to join Bright by the window. ‘I have followed your career with some interest.’ He looked at Sally, and she could see only infinite sorrow in his eyes now. ‘Lady Bright, I hated your husband for nearly twenty years. Until three years ago, as a matter of fact.’

Sally looked at both men, her eyes wide. She tried to interpret her husband’s expression, except that there was no expression now, only the uncompromising gaze of a man caught off guard and righting himself by the greatest of efforts. She rose, or tried to, except that the admiral had returned to her side and was gently pressing down on her shoulder with his one good hand.

‘No fears, my dear,’ he said and leaned down to put his cheek next to hers, for a brief moment. She found the sudden gesture reassuring beyond words and relaxed. He lightened the pressure on her shoulder, but did not remove his hand.

‘Say on, my lord,’ he said, his voice firm and very much in command.

As Sally watched, horrified, the marquis seemed to wilt before her eyes. Her husband must have noticed it, too, because he returned to the man by the window and put his hand under his arm to support him. Without a word, he led the marquis back to his seat. Sally did rise then, and went to sit beside Lord Brimley. If he were one of my old ladies, I would do this, she thought, as she quickly removed her bonnet, set it aside and took a napkin from the tray. As he watched her, his eyes dull, she dipped it in the tea and dabbed gently at his brow. ‘There now, my lord. Do you wish me to summon your butler?’

Her simple act seemed to rouse him. He shook his head. ‘No. No. Bedders would only act like my old maid aunt, and worry me to death.’

‘Your wife then, my lord? Should we summon her?’

‘My dear, she is dead these past three years. And that is what I need to tell your husband.’ He patted the seat on the other side of him. ‘Sit down, lad,’ he ordered, as though there were many more years between them.

‘I…uh…I really don’t know what to say, my lord,’ Bright began, looking mystified.

‘Of course you do not. You never knew us.’

They were both silent. Sally yearned to jump into the conversation. She fought down a fierce urge to defend her husband, an urge so strong that it startled her, considering the briefness of their acquaintance. She looked down and noticed her hands were balled into fists. She glanced up at her husband, who had been watching the gesture, again with that unreadable expression.

The marquis spoke, looking at her. ‘Lady Bright, my son served under your husband on the…the Caprice…was it not? I thought I would never forget. Considering how many years have rolled over the matter, perhaps it is not so surprising.’

‘The Caprice. My first command. We took the ship to the Antipodes. We were not at war with France or Spain then, and our assignment was to ferry a naturalist—one of Sir Joseph Banks’s protégés—to find something called a fairy tern.’

‘You were successful, I believe, at least according to the last letter I ever received from my boy.’ The marquis’s voice broke on the last word, and Sally felt her heart turn over. She took his hand. He offered no resistance to her touch.

‘Yes. We accomplished our orders and were returning to Plymouth,’ Bright said. ‘We needed to take on food and water, so we docked at Valparaiso, not knowing that Spain and England were at war again.’

He paused and gazed out the window for a long moment. ‘And there my boy died in the fight that followed, as you clawed your way out of the harbour,’ Lord Brimley said. He looked at Sally then. ‘Do you have sons, my dear?’

‘None living,’ she whispered. Bright reached across the marquis to touched her hand.

‘I am sorry for you both,’ Lord Brimley replied. ‘I know the feeling. If I thought I could do it and not collapse, I would summon Bedders to fetch the letter of condolence your husband wrote to me, twenty-three years ago. I can quote it: “I am relieved to be able to inform you…”’

He could not go on, but Bright could. ‘“…that your son’s death was quick and painless.”’

The words hung in the room like a powerful stench. The old man raised his head again. ‘Was it a lie? Did you lie to me at such a moment?’

Sally let out the breath she had been holding, her eyes on her husband. She could almost hear the tension in the room humming like a wire stretched taut and snapped.

‘I did, my lord.’

The marquis must have been holding his breath, too, because it came out in a sudden whoosh that made Sally jump. ‘I thought you had, and I hated you for it. I thought you a coward for not having the courage to tell the truth about the last moments of a sterling lad dearer to my heart than any other creature on earth.’

Bright said nothing. He looked at the floor as though wishing it would open and swallow him. It was Sally’s turn to reach across the marquis and touch his hand.

‘Do you want me to tell you?’ he said finally.

‘I thought I did,’ the marquis admitted. ‘When I heard you had retired—oh, yes, I have followed your career—I wanted to ask.’ He shook his head. ‘Not to confront you or berate you, mind you; not after what happened three years ago. But just to know.’

‘What changed your mind three years ago?’ Bright asked.

‘My wife died,’ the marquis said simply. ‘Naturally I was at her bedside through the long ordeal.’ He looked at Sally, tears in his eyes. ‘She was a dear old girl. Do you know what her last words to me were?’

Sally shook her head. He turned his attention to the admiral. ‘Look at me, Bright! Her last words on this whole earth were, “Thank God my boy did not suffer. Thank God!” With a smile so sweet, she slipped from my life.’

He cried then, grasping both their hands. ‘I knew it was a lie, but that lie had sustained my dear one through years of what probably would have been unbearable torment, had she known the truth. I had no idea, until that moment. I decided then that I would not hate you any longer, Sir Charles.’

The quiet in the room was unbroken until the butler opened the door quietly, then closed it. The marquis sat back then, patting their hands. ‘I never thought to have this moment to tell you, at least until the estate agent shared the news of the estate sale. He thought I would be pleased to have good neighbours. And I am.’

Sally looked at her husband, astounded at his composure. Who is this man I have married on such short notice? she asked herself again.

‘I don’t know what to say, my lord,’ Bright said at last. ‘Would you like me to tell you how he died? I have never forgotten.’

The marquis gave him a shrewd look. ‘I doubt you have ever forgotten how any of your men died.’

‘I have not,’ Bright said simply, with the smallest catch in his voice.

‘I thought I wanted to know. For years, I thought I did.’ The old man shook his head. ‘Now I think it does not matter. He is at peace.’