Chapter 6
Two weeks later, Marianne entered the town house’s completely renovated drawing room amazed at what could be done in a short period of time when one had money to spend. Especially when Sovereigns, not credit, were promised, then delivered.
Most pleased with how this room had turned out, she had collected pictures from around Drew’s town house, her parents’ (if no longer in use), and from a number of credible art dealers in town. After having the walls papered in an attractive rococo print in a warm grey and cream, she had tastefully arranged the artworks around the walls emphasizing those of greatest value and beauty. To coordinate further, she had a pleasant stripe in the same hues made for draperies which were richly hung at the windows. Pulled back, these let in as much daylight as possible. She hated a dark room and to further reduce that possibility, she had new gaslights installed. Finally, she selected all new furnishings in rich mahoganies and fine upholstery. The fabrics included the grey and cream and brought in the richness of a beautiful pale blue. The silks, velvets, and damasks spread about the room created a warm, inviting space that would be seen by all who visited.
She loved it.
However, she regretted that her father-in-law, who had made an appointment, would be the first to see it. Even her parents had yet to visit since the renovation.
She unconsciously twisted the cabochon ruby wedding ring around her finger as her father-in-law, properly announced by the butler, entered.
She made an acceptable curtsy. “My lord, welcome to our home.”
“Harrumph, I see you’re making the place your own.” Disdain and disapproval clear in his voice, his gaze made a thorough inspection of the interior decoration. No doubt he would have been more pleased if the money had gone to his own devices.
“On the contrary, my lord. Upon arriving I noticed the house reflected a bachelor’s lifestyle. Things were untended and unorganized. I merely started to put them in order as a good wife should. Knowing how much my husband prefers to be in the latest fashion, I endeavored to decorate the rooms as he would wish, au courant. This is the first room completed but the rest are coming along nicely.” Marianne moved to the newly purchased chaise longue upholstered in blue silk and sat. “Would you have a seat, my lord?” She motioned toward another new addition, this one a bergère chair in a coordinating damask of all three hues.
“No, I won’t be staying long.” Reaching inside his jacket he produced a small sheaf of papers. “I just need you to sign these papers.”
“And, may I ask, what they are?” Marianne, quite sure she knew what the papers held, had been wise in seeking her father’s counsel and that of his solicitors, some of whom were now in her employ.
“You need not worry what they are. Just sign them and I’ll be on my way.” He flapped the papers at her and looked around the room. “We need an inkwell and pen. Have your butler bring them immediately.”
She shook her head. “I will do no such thing until I know what those papers contain. I am not in the habit of signing things I have not read. Did you think I had not studied the contract concerning my marriage to your son? I did. My father made sure I understood the agreement and my part in it.” Marianne arranged her skirts. She no longer needed to twist a handkerchief. Until her husband returned she would be mistress of her own fate. And should he never return, she would sail her own ship with the assistance of her father and her solicitors. No longer would she be adrift in a sea of men telling her what to do and when. And especially not the Earl of Reignsfield who had bankrupted his fortune and expected her to bail him out. Her husband, after all, had the contractual ownership of her dowry.
“Your husband has not yet been found. I need to have control of his funds so that I may care for his lands and estates until he returns. You needn’t worry about any of this. You’re only a woman after all.” Looking down his nose at her when he contemptuously demanded control of her funds was not his best played move. Obviously he considered her intelligence to be minimal at best. Was he not in for a surprise?
“Well, my lord, I have read the marriage contract as I just mentioned, and I have consulted with my father and my solicitors. It seems I do not have to turn over any of my dowry to you. They have advised me that I may maintain control of these funds until my husband returns as long as I maintain his properties and pay his debts. I have already paid all of his outstanding debts and, as you can see by my activities here, I am refurbishing his properties with my dowry funds. He will have nothing to worry about when he returns. You, however, are responsible for your own liabilities. Whatever debts and losses you have incurred are yours alone and are no business of mine.”
The earl snarled at her, his face red, his hands fisted, his right hand crumpling the documents he demanded she sign. “But you can’t do that. I am the Earl of Reignsfield. Andrew is my son and his fortunes are under my jurisdiction. You must sign these papers and turn over the monies of your dowry.”
Marianne rose from her seat and moved gracefully toward the door, assured of her circumstances and her power over them. “My lord,” she crooned softly, “I have absolutely no reason to sign those papers. I have been assured by multiple legal authorities that I am fully in my rights to function as I have until my husband returns. If you are unhappy with what I have conveyed, I suggest you take it to the courts. I am sure the amount of money it will cost to have them tell you the same thing I tell you today will be of no matter to you. After all, you are already used to living far beyond your means.”
She opened the door with a graceful tug and spoke to her butler, the one who had already been installed when she arrived in her new home, just outside the door. “Blevins, would you please be so kind to show his lordship out. Then if you would bring tea, I would greatly appreciate it.” Turning back to her father-in-law, she made a respectful if minimal curtsy. “My lord, may you have a pleasant day.”
The earl stomped through the portal, then turned back wagging the crushed papers in her face. “You’ve not heard the last of this, you ungrateful chit. I’m a lord of the realm. You’re nothing but a merchant’s daughter. I’ll have you taken to court and you’ll see just who I am and what I can do. Your dowry will be mine and you’ll be out on the street until my son comes home. Then we’ll just see if your marriage holds up.”
“Do as you please, your lordship. But remember, if you dissolve the marriage, the dowry must be returned intact and in full. Do you have the funds to do so? I seriously doubt it. Good day to you.” Quietly she closed the door in his face, then leaned back against it. Taking a deep breath, she sighed. Speaking to herself, she remarked, “I am so glad that is over. I expected this before two weeks were up. Now we’ll have to wait and see just how much force he can bring to bear with a title that has nothing but the name behind it.”
With a lighter step, she moved back toward the chaise to wait for tea to be served.
~ ~ ~
As if the trauma and drama of dealing with her father-in-law the day before wasn’t enough, today she was summoned to the drawing room because one of the ladies of the ton had deigned to call upon her.
What further set of insults would be heaped upon her today?
She studied the card once more. Lady Vanessa Drake, Countess of Summersborne. Who in heaven’s name was this and why would she be visiting Marianne without any form of introduction?
Of course, a countess really needed no introduction. She could impose upon whomsoever she would wish. What person in her right mind would dare to refuse the attentions of a countess? Certainly not Marianne. Her parents had taught her better than that.
She stood before the drawing room door for one more moment before girding her loins, turning the doorknob and entering.
Giving the most gracious curtsy she could, Marianne greeted her guest. “Your ladyship, welcome to my humble home. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”
As she rose, the countess waved her to a nearby chair.
“Let me get straight to the point, Lady Berensfeld.” Lady Summersborne folded her hands in her lap.
Marianne took in a deep breath as surreptitiously as she could. The matter sounded quite ominous and the subject had yet to be broached.
“It has come to my attention that you have been recently wed and your husband has seemingly fallen off the face of the earth. Is this true?”
Stifling a gasp, Marianne nodded. “My lady, he disappeared sometime during our wedding night and the next morning no one could find him anywhere. We have been sending out runners but those who have already returned have found no news of him. Of course, others have been sent abroad so it may be some time before we hear back from them.”
“Pity.” The countess shook her head. “So, what do you plan to do with yourself while you are waiting for his return?”
Marianne just caught her jaw before it dropped open and then took a breath as a knock came on the door. Blevins entered with the tea tray. Thank heavens for his timing.
After pouring tea and serving cakes and regaining her composure, Marianne was ready to revisit their conversation. “Do with myself? What should I possibly be doing with myself? I will see that his home is in order, his properties are maintained, his bills are paid, the remainder of my dowry is invested. What else should I possibly be doing with myself?”
“Really, Lady Berensfeld, don’t tell me you expect to remain self-confined in this town house for however long it takes to find his lordship. That is not only ridiculous, it’s not in your own best interests. Do you want Society to be chattering about what you are up to and starting all manner of untrue and detrimental rumors as to what you are about?”
Marianne’s eyes popped open. “In heaven’s name, why would they gossip about me? They don’t even know me.”
“And is that not the point? You have married one of the most eligible of their number, even if he is silly and foppish in his ways. He has disappeared in the most mystifying manner. You have been left, thankfully, after the marriage and not at the altar. Their imaginations will run without bound if they do not see you in the flesh, composed, intelligent, refined, the very image of a responsible viscountess.”
Marianne set down her half-emptied teacup, rose from her seat, and paced in front of the unlit hearth. “No one wanted to marry him. Our marriage was arranged. I am quite sure Society would laugh at my intrusion upon their elite world.”
“Everyone knows why he married. Everyone knows whom he married. Everyone knows that he has disappeared. What needs to happen now is to have his wife take her rightful place in their ranks so that when and if he returns, she is supported by their ranks and he is accepted back among them. Otherwise, you could be permanently shunned and when he returns, assuming that he will eventually, he could divorce you out of hand. If he were gone for a long period of time, he could accuse you for his own convenience of being an adulteress despite you maintaining all of his responsibilities as you so thoughtfully listed only moments ago. With no knowledge of you or your plight, who would stand behind you to retain your standing in the ton?”
“Oh.” Marianne paused in her trek to gaze into the waning embers, twist her wedding ring on her finger. “That would not be good, not for me. But how do you propose I conquer this formidable task?”
“That is exactly why I am here, my lady. To escort you through the challenges of the beau monde.” Lady Summersborne set her teacup into its saucer and placed them on the tea tray.
“But, Lady Summersborne, why would you do that for me? You know nothing of me. Not my background, upbringing, personal traits, nothing.”
“Tsk, tsk, you are a woman under duress. I have been in your shoes. I married very young, then was widowed after ten years and left with a young son. I have had my share of being the center of gossip, innuendo, and lies. I decided rather than be one of those who makes life miserable for others, I would be one who clears the path. I have a number of young ladies who have married well but were still on the fringes of Society. Under my tutelage, they are bright lights in circles of women who are often disparaging to the point of being cruel. I hope you would take this opportunity to be one of the former rather than the latter.”
Marianne sat across from the countess once again. “I have much to learn, your ladyship. If you are willing to teach me and introduce me to others to whom I might be a friend, how could I decline? Currently, I have not a single acquaintance in the circles my husband frequented. Thank you for your kindness.”
“It is nothing, my dear. Someone once helped me not too long ago. I merely pass along the good tidings to someone else.”
~ ~ ~
Shanghai
1833
“Rumor has it, Andy, that you might be leavin’ us.” His bunkmate and ship’s cook, Donovan, glared at him in derisive accusation. His one good eye looked straight at him, but the second eye wandered in some unperceived direction. Drew had bunked with the lifelong seaman for over three months. Donovan’s cooking was tolerable, definitely better than that of the last two ships, but the man snored louder than thunder from a South Seas typhoon. His bunkmate continued, “You’ve been on three other ships in a year and a half. Why is that?”
Drew rolled his ale mug between his hands. “I spoke to Captain Dunnard this morning. We’ve worked out an agreement that makes us both happy. I’ll not be leaving Fortune’s Lady in the near future.” His eye caught movement in the far corner. A small, strange-looking Oriental sat drinking what could be tea from an earthenware cup. When their eyes met, it was Drew’s discomfort that forced the contact to break. Why would this man stare at him?
“Well, thar’s a cause for celebration.” Joe, his second companion, much younger than Donovan but on the seas much longer than Drew, raised his mug. “We all seem to be making a little more blunt with you on board. I’m only too happy to be keepin’ it that way. What say I buy you another round, Andy?”
Drew stared down into his almost empty ale mug. He’d already had quite enough. He went drinking with the crew in just about every port but he couldn’t say he liked it. For the most part, the men were tolerable, as long as he didn’t get into their faces over inconsequential things. But, he no longer enjoyed the feeling of inebriation. It dulled his wits and the morning after, especially if the ship left port, he felt worse. He was pretty close to his limit tonight. “I think I’ll pass, Joe. Are we not shoving off early in the morning?”
Joe nodded. “Cap’n says the mornin’ tide. He has plans to make it to the next port afore Saturday next. Worried the weather might come upon us, too.”
Drew glanced toward the Oriental. The man’s stare was unrelenting as he took a sip of his tea.
Drew returned his attention to his mates. “Well, I’ll be shoving off for now. It’s been a long day of translations and negotiations. Once we take to the sea, I’ll need to review everything with Captain Dunnard. You two should head back soon as well. The captain won’t be happy if he has to send someone back after you.” Drew swallowed the last of his ale. Making for the door, he took one last look toward the Oriental. His stare hadn’t faltered. Drew nodded in acknowledgement, then went through the door.
Moments later, he lay in the gutter looking up with blurred vision into a moonless but star-studded sky. The attack had been quick and brutal leaving him dazed and confused. He rubbed the back of his head and felt wetness. He groped in his pockets relieved to find the miniature and not surprised to discover the loss of the few coins he had carried with him. The street, the sky, the universe spun around him.
The Oriental, who came from nowhere, pulled a cart up next to him. Without a word, he helped, almost carried, Drew to the vehicle and rolled him in. He quickly checked Drew’s head and neck, handed him a cloth for the bleeding before giving a guttural grunt.
Drew looked up once more before the stars went dim then blacked out completely.