Chapter 34
The white cliffs of Dover, October 1814
Callie clutched the railing of the Zephyr and gazed raptly at the broad swath of chalk cliffs ahead, a lump in her throat. “I’ve never seen the white cliffs before, but they’re so much a part of English lore that they say home to me. Did you ask Hawkins to return by this route so I could see the cliffs?”
“The white cliffs were one reason for coming this way,” her husband—husband!—said. “I like seeing them, too. But the Westerfield Academy is just off the Dover road, and it’s a good place to start making amends.”
Richard looped his arm around her shoulders, so she slid her arm around his waist with a happy sigh. They’d had the best honeymoon imaginable on this smooth, lovely voyage. Each day had been a little cooler as they headed north and east, but the notoriously chancy Atlantic had sent no storms. Though Hawkins’s bed wasn’t as large as the one at the Indian Queen Hotel, it had been entirely satisfactory.
“That was your last school, wasn’t it? You were still a student there when we eloped, and of course you never went back.” She glanced at him askance and saw his nod. She was briefly distracted by how lovely his blond hair looked in a brisk sea breeze.
Telling herself not to lose the thread of this discussion, she asked, “How badly did you behave at this particular school?”
He shifted uneasily. “Well, I didn’t try to burn the place down, but I was angry and uncooperative and often skipped classes. I was rude and sometimes a bully, though luckily such behavior was always stopped very quickly. I’m told by one of my London acquaintances that I’m considered Lady Agnes Westerfield’s one failure.”
She blinked. “That’s a distinction, but how could you be called that when you’re so lovely and reasonable?”
He chuckled and tightened his arm on her shoulders. “A lot of years have passed. Not only have I changed, but you bring out the best in me, Catkin. I’m still quite capable of being an appalling person.”
She thought of how terrifying he’d looked when he’d thundered up to her burning house, and decided she’d allow his point. “I look forward to meeting Lady Agnes. If she tries to beat you, I’ll fend her off.”
“I don’t expect she will. She was a remarkably patient woman.” After a long pause, he said, “I’m not looking forward to seeing her again. But it seems the right thing to do.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Doing the right thing seems so boringly mature.”
“Don’t you want to try everything at least once?” she said teasingly. He laughed, but she was glad that she’d be at his side when he faced this piece of his past.
* * *
The Westerfield Academy was a vast, rambling country house suitable to the daughter of a duke. As Gordon helped Callie from the coach he’d hired, he explained, “The house was part of Lady Agnes’s personal inheritance. She traveled all over the world when she was young. When she returned to England, she started the school to keep herself busy. I expect you know it’s for boys of good birth and bad behavior.”
“I laugh whenever I hear that.” Callie took his arm and they headed toward the entrance to the right wing. “But what does it mean in practice?”
“Her rather subversive goal is to help boys who don’t fit in learn to play the games of society without losing our souls.” He thought of his fellow students and how many of them had blossomed under her wise care. “She’s rather good at it, too.”
“It sounds like the perfect place for you.” Callie cocked an ear. “I presume the screams coming from behind the house are playing fields rather than a massacre?”
He knew she was trying to alleviate his nerves, but he couldn’t manage a smile. “Lady Agnes and her two partners are great believers in sport as a way of burning off youthful energy.” He rang the bell by the wide entrance door. “This wing is her personal living quarters. The rest of the house is the classrooms, and now there are living quarters behind for the boys. They were just starting to build them when I left.”
It was only a couple of minutes before an elderly butler with an imperturbable expression opened the door. He looked familiar, but Gordon couldn’t put a name to him. “Sir. Madam.” He gave the slight bow due expensively dressed strangers. “How may I assist you?”
“I’d like to see Lady Agnes if she’s available,” Gordon replied. “Tell her that the bad penny has returned.”
Not batting an eyelash, the butler ushered them inside to a small salon on the right. “I shall see if her ladyship is available.”
Callie settled calmly into a wing chair, but Gordon paced. He hoped Lady Agnes’s curiosity was piqued enough for her to see who was calling. She had treated him well, and he had not reciprocated. One would think he would be more comfortable with being in the wrong since he’d spent much of his youth in that state, but Lady Agnes was different. Her, he respected.
After about five minutes, a firm step could be heard and Lady Agnes swept into the salon. Tall and authoritative, she was not a woman who would be overlooked anywhere. There was more silver in her hair than when he’d been in school, but she looked otherwise ageless. “I wonder which bad penny might this be.”
Gordon moved into her line of sight and bowed, feeling the schoolboy fear of authority he’d always been good at concealing. “Lady Agnes.”
She stopped in the doorway, staring. “Lord George Audley! This is an unexpected pleasure.” Her gaze moved to Callie. “And this would be?”
Callie rose and smiled cheerfully. “Good day, Lady Agnes. I’m Mrs. Bad Penny. Or perhaps that should be Lady George Bad Penny.”
Lady Agnes laughed and called over her shoulder, “Refreshments, please. I foresee a long and interesting visit with the Bad Pennies.”
She waved them to be seated, but Gordon remained standing. “Perhaps your memory is deficient, Lady Agnes. I’m told I’m considered your one failure, and I’ve come rather belatedly to apologize.”
“There is nothing wrong with my memory.” The headmistress subsided on the sofa in a flurry of skirts. “Sit down, my boy. Where did you hear that you were allegedly my one failure? I never said such a thing.”
Reluctantly smiling at her calling him a boy, he chose a chair where he could see both women clearly. “I heard as much from some old schoolmates I met in London recently. None of them seemed inclined to dispute the description.”
Lady Agnes sighed. “You were certainly one of the more challenging students I’ve taken on. When you arrived here, you were like a puppy that has been beaten so often that he trusts no one. All you knew how to do was bite. Yet you seemed to be gradually improving while you were here. Was I wrong?”
“No,” he admitted. “But I was far from being really right when I left.”
She studied his face. “I’ve always believed that if you’d had another year here, you would have been decently sorted out and ready to face the world on your terms.”
He thought back to the boy he’d been then and the way he was reluctantly coming to respect the school and his classmates. “It’s possible. I was beginning to realize that I needed to change and stop bashing angrily into brick walls.”
“I thought as much.” Lady Agnes spread her hands in frustration. “But you left for the summer holidays and never returned. I received a terse note from your father’s secretary saying you were being withdrawn because you had ruined a young lady of good birth and were being dealt with.” She gave a wintry smile. “And I was expected to refund the money paid for your next term’s tuition by return post.”
Callie had been watching the conversation with quiet fascination, but at that point she slid to the front edge of her chair, her eyes snapping. “Outrageous! I’m the ‘young lady of good birth’ that Richard was alleged to have ruined. He did that by offering honorable matrimony to save me from being married off to a stranger three times my age. A man who would allow my father to get rid of me for a profit.”
Lady Agnes studied Callie, her expression arrested. “I was sure there was more to the story. If you’re willing to tell me, it will go no further.”
Callie glanced at Gordon and he gave her a nod of permission. Lady Agnes had deflected his apology, but she deserved the truth.
“Richard suggested Gretna Green to save me from the unwanted marriage,” Callie said. “Society might consider that ruination, but to me, he was salvation.”
“So you two were childhood sweethearts?”
“No, we were best friends. There was nothing romantic between us.” Callie gave Gordon an intimate glance. “At least, not then. But I was frantic, and when he suggested eloping as the only escape, I accepted gratefully.”
She took a shuddering breath. “But our fathers, Lord Stanfield and Lord Kingston, caught up with us almost immediately. The only way to stop my father from beating Richard to death was to swear that I’d marry his rich Jamaican planter if he promised not to hurt Richard anymore.”
“Stanfield kept his word,” Gordon said dryly. “Instead of finishing me off with his horsewhip, he had me convicted of theft and kidnapping and transported to Botany Bay.”
It took a great deal to shock Lady Agnes, but those words caused her jaw to drop. She was given time to recover by the arrival of the butler and a maid with a rolling cart of small sandwiches, cakes, and pots of coffee and tea.
When the servants had withdrawn, Lady Agnes said, “After telling me that, perhaps you both need something stronger?”
Gordon chuckled. “Thank you, but sobriety is my usual state. It’s a rather horrible story, but it was a long time ago.” He accepted a steaming cup of coffee from Lady Agnes, then filled a small plate with sandwiches. Her ladyship had always kept good cooks.
Lady Agnes poured tea for Callie. “If you’re Stanfield’s daughter, you’d be Catherine, if I recall correctly. How did the marriage turn out?”
“I used to be called Catherine, but now I generally go by my middle name, Callista.” Callie took an appreciative sip of the tea, then collected sandwiches for herself. “I had an easier time of it than Richard. My husband was much older, but a kind man. His oldest son by his first wife was—difficult. But I became very fond of my two younger stepchildren.”
Gordon noticed that Callie was leaving the impression that the younger ones shared a mother with Henry. Well, there was no need to go into more detail.
Callie continued, “After my husband’s death, there was reason to doubt his heir’s goodwill, so I collected the two youngest and their grandparents and we escaped to Washington and lived quite comfortably there under the name of Audley.” She smiled at Gordon. “That was in memory of my childhood friend, whom I was told had died. Then Richard was sent by someone in London to rescue the Widow Audley, which he did. After several weeks in Baltimore, here we are, now properly married.”
“I’m sure that explanation covers many fascinating events. Were you in Washington when it was burned? A disgraceful business!” Lady Agnes said indignantly. “What about Baltimore? The Americans did an admirable job of standing their ground.”
“One can’t say the British didn’t have provocation for burning the American capital, though I wish they hadn’t.” Callie finished off a potted ham sandwich. “In Baltimore, we had a splendid view of the bombardment. It was all very educational and will enliven my eventual memoirs if I ever write any. Which I don’t suppose I will.”
Lady Agnes chuckled. “Lord George, you’ve chosen the perfect wife, though you don’t need me to tell you that.”
“No, I don’t,” he said fondly.
“I have a question about names.” Lady Agnes studied him again while pushing the much depleted plate of sandwiches in his direction. “When you were a student here, you were correctly called Lord George. Recently Westerfield old boys have referred to you as Gordon when discussing various hair-raising adventures. I know that you’re entitled to all those names, but which do you prefer?”
Now that he was settling in to respectable marriage in England, he realized that it was time to decide how he wanted to present himself to the world. He considered the question while taking more sandwiches.
“Lord George was a very annoying fellow and I never liked the name. Consider him dead. Richard belongs to Callie. Gordon suits me as I am now. So I choose to be Mr. Gordon Audley. You may call me Gordon if you like.” He glanced at Callie. “Are you willing to sacrifice being Lady George?”
“I shan’t miss it. I don’t like the name George, either.” She glanced at Lady Agnes. “Is that treason? But your title is merely a courtesy one. As long as I’m Mrs. Audley, not the Widow Audley, I’m satisfied.”
“Gordon, then,” Lady Agnes said with a nod. “It suits you.”
Callie said, “I want to hear more about the hair-raising adventures! Lady Agnes, will you tell me some? I’m sure Richard won’t.”
The headmistress chuckled. “Well, he was instrumental in helping Lord Kirkland rescue his kidnapped wife and her maid.”
When Callie turned to him, eyebrows raised, Gordon shrugged. “Mere chance that I happened to be in London and captain of Ashton’s latest steamboat. I just drove the boat. It was Kirkland and his friends who risked their lives boarding the kidnappers’ vessel, and it was Ashton in the engine room who got so much speed out of his ship. That man is wasted as a duke. He’s a really first-class engineer.”
“You are definitely telling me more about this or else!” Callie said threateningly, her eyes like wide golden coins.
Gordon smiled wickedly. “I look forward to finding out what your ‘or else’ will look like.”
Callie laughed. “So do I. Lady Agnes, what other tales do you have to tell of my husband’s adventures?”
Lady Agnes considered. “The only really dramatic one I know is that he used his most excellent marksmanship to save the lives of another of my boys and his wife. And there’s a story about a cellar in Portugal.”
“I’ve heard about the cellar,” Callie said as her thoughtful gaze returned to Gordon. “I’m not going to write my memoirs; I’m going to have to write yours. Terrifying Tales of an English Gentleman!”
He rolled his eyes in schoolboy fashion. “Such a book would never sell. As I’ve told you, I’m always an accidental and cowardly adventurer.” Wanting to change the subject, he asked, “Lady Agnes, you always are in touch with the ton. Neither of us have had news of our families in some years. To begin with, are our fathers still alive?”
The headmistress shook her head. “No, Lord Stanfield died about two years ago. Callista’s brother Marcus is now Lord Stanfield and he seems to be quite a pleasant young man.”
“My father’s passing is no loss to humanity. I’m glad to know my brother hasn’t turned out like him,” Callie said tartly. “What about Richard’s father?”
“Lord Kingston died about a year ago. His heart failed, I believe.”
Gordon regretfully let go of his fantasy of confronting his father and telling him what an appalling specimen he was. But that anger was old and easily released.
“So my oldest brother, Welham, is now Marquess of Kingston. I’m sure that’s making him very happy.” Gordon made a mental note not to go near the family seat, Kingston Court. He had no desire ever to see Welham again. Welham and Julian, the sons of the first Marchioness of Kingston, had both been coarse and difficult, though Welham had been worse, having the arrogance of an heir.
“From what I’ve heard, the newest Lord Kingston annoys everyone.” Lady Agnes thought a moment. “I don’t recall hearing anything about your younger brothers, which presumably means they’re alive and well.”
There was a better chance of developing a decent relationship with his younger brothers. Their mother had been generally pleasant to her three older stepsons, and with luck her boys would have inherited their mother’s temperament, not their father’s.
The next brother in line after Gordon was Eldon, the youngest was Francis. Gordon could barely remember their faces, but they’d be young men in their twenties now, so he probably wouldn’t recognize them. Maybe someday he’d look them up.
Lady Agnes said, “It’s late in the day to continue on to London, so why not spend the night here? I’ve plenty of guest rooms and they’re used regularly by my old boys. Emily and General Rawlings will be here for dinner, and I know they’d like to see you.” She glanced at Callie. “They are my partners in running the school.”
“Would they be as agreeable as you’ve been?” Gordon asked warily.
“I expect so. You’ve come up as a topic of conversation now and then over the years. They’ll be glad to see that you’ve not only survived but are flourishing.”
Callie looked a question at Gordon. “Unless you wish to get back to London right away, I’d be happy to spend the night here. With luck, I’ll learn more alarming stories about your wild youth.”
He chuckled. “How could I deny you such a treat? Thank you, Lady Agnes. We’re happy to accept your hospitality.”
She’d been the challenge he’d feared most. Instead, she’d made his apologies easy. He wondered if that meant other attempts at redemption would be more difficult than expected.
He hoped not. He was growing fond of doing things the easy way. Callie made everything easy, and he liked this new turn his life had taken.