A Fraudulent Betrothal Page 12

  ‘I’m Marianne’s twin, Clarissa,’ she began. ‘Marianne herself has disappeared, we know not where, but I took her place in an effort both to protect her name and to find her. Richard and yourself were innocent bystanders to the play, and I’m afraid the victims also.’

  ‘You fell in love with him?’

  ‘Yes.’ Clarissa dropped her head and began to sob, amazed when Caroline slipped her arms around her shoulders to comfort her.

  ‘You poor girl,’ she murmured gently, and drew her down to her bosom. Poor Richard, too, she thought, and began to stroke the frantically sobbing girl’s hair. He could be dreadfully proud and she dreaded to think how he’d take the news of his beloved’s deceit.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A Secret is Unearthed

  Clarissa lived through the next few days with a growing sense of foreboding. Caroline had kept her near for several hours following her confession, and appeared to accept the deception with every indication of complaisance, though she herself had been utterly distraught.

  ‘Take care not to reveal the whole to Richard,’ had been her friend’s final instruction. ‘I will undertake to soften the blow first.’ She’d looked unusually serious, too.

  Since Clarissa wasn’t over confident in her ability to confess her sins to Richard in person, that was one piece of advice she had every intention of obeying to the letter. She shouldn’t have admitted her guilt to Caroline either, and well she knew it. Marianne was relying on her to play a part, and she had an uneasy suspicion Richard would hear the whole from his sister as soon as he returned from wherever his singularly odd business had taken him.

  Neither had the viscount’s sister been sanguine in imagining he’d receive the news of his fiancé’s deception lightly, Clarissa decided, having clearly recognized the dismay evident in her friend’s expression. Caroline might have forgiven a green girl for the liberties she’d taken in playing the part of her sister, but no such reliance could be placed on Richard following in her footsteps. Just like his sister, she knew all too well his pride in the family honour. He’d even been willing to sacrifice his bachelor freedom to marry a girl he barely knew, merely because she was the nonpareil his consequence as head of the family deserved. His pride, and that of his entire family, would be dented beyond repair if the disgraceful history of her imposture reached the ears of the gossips.

  Her sister, too, would be caught in the fall out. Not only would Marianne lose her chance at a titled husband, but perhaps any hope of a match at all, and her sister, as Clarissa well knew, could never be truly happy if she were forced to return to living a quiet existence in the country.

  Her own situation was very different; she’d have to retire from society whether Leighton knew of their deception or not. Once Marianne returned to the fold, she herself must disappear forever. It would be one thing for Marianne to introduce a twin who looked so exactly like her into society when she was herself established, but quite another when that twin had already found the love of her life in the arms of her husband.

  Clarissa began to regard Doctor Pym in the light of a saviour. He’d attempted a proposal on more than one occasion, and she knew she’d have to accept if he could be brought up to the mark again. She’d make him a good wife, she decided, never seek to put him to the blush, and they’d be happy. Well, she amended, with much more truthfulness, he’d be happy, for she’d never offer him any less than a good wife should.

  Perhaps they could advance themselves as missionaries. To Africa, or even further continents, then abruptly stopped such self-indulgent dreaming. The rector wouldn’t be at all comfortable with such a life; he wasn’t a man destined to survive the rigours of such a calling, and nor could she, in all conscience, ask it of him. She would grow old instead, a spinster in company with Aunt Constance most likely.

  There was no further news of Sophie either. Mr Markham had forbidden Clarissa to go out alone, and made it depressingly clear her replacement maid was specifically instructed to refuse to accompany her into any situation that was less than respectable. That being so, she was unlikely to catch even a glimpse of her erstwhile maidservant, who’d undoubtedly shun any thoughts of visiting more respectable areas for fear of being recognized.

  It would be awkward, too, even if she were lucky enough to discover the girl, for she would then be obliged to give her new maid the slip before she could follow her. Not that such an event seemed likely, for all she kept her eyes open at every opportunity.

  The business of society continued also. A ball, an assembly or two and an elegant card party filled up her evenings. Caroline, when she was present, sought her out with every indication of pleasure, pledging her friendship while steadfastly denying any knowledge of Leighton’s whereabouts. Clarissa could only maintain a fashionable, but quite uncharacteristic sense of ennui. Without Richard at her side such entertainments could only bore her.

  Leighton’s return was unheralded by any of the portents of doom Clarissa had imagined. Edward brought news of his visit to her in the morning-room one afternoon when the Markhams were out. Aunt Eleanor was at her most favoured modiste and her Uncle John was visiting one of his clubs. None the less, for all the world knew, she was to be betrothed to the man and could hardly refuse to see him, even without her aunt and uncle to add their consequence. She raised her chin proudly and bade the footman show him in.

  ‘Richard.’ She stood stiff and still, wondering if he’d spoken to his sister before calling on her. If so this might be the last time she’d ever see him, and his visit mark the end of her sojourn in the capital.

  ‘Forgive me, my darling. I haven’t had a chance to change, having just ridden in, but your footman was good enough to brush me down.’ He strode across the floor, and though none but the most elegant of dandies could have discovered the dirt on his ‘Jean de Bry’ riding coat or pale biscuit-coloured and skin-tight pantaloons, a muddy splash could be seen to have barely soiled the gleam of his buckskin boots. ‘I couldn’t wait to see you, dear one.’

  ‘Oh.’ Clarissa found herself swept into his embrace without ceremony, and before she could object, he was kissing her stupid.

  ‘Clarissa,’ he murmured into her ear. ‘Clarissa, my darling.’

  ‘No. Oh, no.’ Though she couldn’t help but return his ardent kisses, she knew she had to confess all before his sister did. Caroline’s advice might have been sound, but Clarissa recognized she had to nerve herself to deliver the news. It was her responsibility.

  ‘Please,’ she cried out again, and tore her mouth away from his. ‘Wait, only wait.’ She held her hands to her face when she realized how he was addressing her. ‘What did you call me?’ she quavered.

  ‘Why, by your name, of course,’ he returned with a laugh. Then he kissed her soundly before she could object. ‘Clarissa,’ he breathed at last. ‘I can think of any no other name that would suit you half so well, nor me either.’

  ‘You have seen your sister, then?’

  ‘What! Does she know also? That’s famous. I thought we’d have to keep it as our secret.’

  ‘She wasn’t sure …’ Clarissa voice tailed off. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘By your own goosish behaviour,’ he returned. ‘My dear Clarissa, whatever possessed you to attempt such a deception?’

  ‘My sister had disappeared.’ She didn’t attempt to tell him the story in full. He hadn’t as yet answered her own question. ‘You might have suspected me when you renewed your offer, but you said nothing to me, nor did you realize who I was, or my name.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Clarissa, my love. I could say nothing while I had only the vaguest of suspicions in my mind. I thought at first you were indeed Marianne, for how could I have suspected your twin to be so exactly alike. Only you’re not alike. You’re so much more gentle, more loving.’ He paused for a moment of tender regard. ‘You love me in a way your sister never could. We’re soul-mates, something Marianne, for all her virtues, never could be. She and I would have entered into a civil cont
ract, a marriage of pure convenience, providing her with the noble marriage she craved and me with a pretty plaything.’

  ‘Where did you go?’ Clarissa stared at him intently. She didn’t like to think of Richard toying with a pretty plaything, even if it was her sister.

  ‘I made a visit to your Aunt Constance.’

  ‘My Aunt Constance?’

  ‘A most worthy woman,’ he conceded. ‘She was surprised to see me and even more astonished when I laid the parts of my puzzle before her. I thought at first that Marianne’s illness might have changed her character, but your aunt soon disabused me of that notion. Once she learned I was irretrievably in love with you, she told me the whole, including the history of your sister’s mysterious disappearance. Now, Clarissa, we may be married in truth.’

  ‘No,’ she told him distractedly. ‘It is worse than ever. How can I steal my own sister’s future husband?’ She gasped at the sudden realization. ‘As my mother stole Eleanor’s.’

  ‘Eleanor?’

  ‘Aunt Eleanor, Mrs Markham. Her betrothed ran off with my mother when Marianne and I were but babes in arms. Aunt Constance has taken her place in our hearts ever since, but you must surely see that I can never undertake such a scandalous act. My reputation and the reputation of the Leighton family would be ruined forever.’

  ‘I cannot be expected to marry your sister,’ he told her shortly, ‘when it’s you I love.’

  ‘It would be wicked beyond measure to cast her off. Your betrothal is such a poorly kept secret that every jokester in society would make her the butt of his wit, and it would be so much the worse if her own sister were to take her place. Neither would the Leighton family’s standing in society be improved by such an ill-considered action and, as for me,’ – Clarissa knew exactly what the quizzes would say – ‘I should be labelled as my mother’s true born daughter to serve Marianne in such an infamous manner.’

  ‘There must be something we could do.’ Richard shook his head in desperation. ‘No formal notification of the betrothal has yet been given.’

  ‘I don’t see how,’ Clarissa replied bitterly, ‘you could publicly renounce your claim to her hand, and immediately take up with me in her place without subjecting us all to the tender mercies of the ton.’

  ‘I won’t give you up,’ he swore in return. ‘Even if we have to leave the country.’

  Clarissa knew Richard’s plea for the nonsense it was, and though she secretly exulted in the knowledge that it was his love for her that made him utter it, she also knew that any such plan was doomed from the start. Leighton was the head of his family. His life, his estates, everything he held dear was situated in England. She couldn’t allow him to give up everything for her. Nor could she allow herself to steal her sister’s future husband!

  ‘I believe I must be taken ill again,’ she told him. ‘I’ll return to the countryside until Marianne reappears.’ The future began to look bleak to her; forced to leave the pleasures of London and the man she loved.

  ‘No,’ he told her firmly. ‘The scandal will only loom so much the larger if it were ever discovered that not one, but two sisters have disappeared. You must remain at my side while we institute a search for Marianne. The two of us working together will surely discover her directly.’

  Clarissa considered the compromise and nodded her acceptance. Leighton had bravely accepted the situation, as she must herself. They’d be friends, of course, but nothing more. A bleak future awaited her, and secretly she knew she’d have to travel abroad herself. Even retirement to the country could never reconcile her to their parting.

  A bleak future indeed!

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  At Chatsbury’s Masque

  Despite her misgivings, Clarissa knew she must continue to enjoy all that society could offer. Indeed, she could hardly refuse to attend those parties her aunt decided were eligible. At first she thought that such entertainments would be drained of all pleasure for her, but although she continued to be haunted by Marianne’s absence, she soon realized how easily her treacherous heart could leap when Lord Leighton entered the room.

  The latest of these entertainments was to take the form of a masque, a very select and private affair arranged by Lord Chatsbury. Since Clarissa had contrived since revealing her deception to Leighton, to meet him only in the most public of places, she’d eyed the hastily arranged party with some misgivings. Chatsbury and Leighton were bosom buddies and she couldn’t doubt they’d conspired to arrange the sudden engagement between them. Aunt Eleanor, however, held no such doubts: Chatsbury was a most eligible host and she had no intention of disappointing him by refusing to attend.

  Clarissa consoled herself by deciding that, despite the entertainment being labelled a select party, there would be considerable numbers attending, and she could easily keep Richard at arm’s length. The truth was she didn’t trust herself to maintain the proprieties if she were left alone with him; nor him, if he were alone with her. Nevertheless, she was determined not to let her fears stop herself enjoying the event, never having attended a masque before.

  Her friend, Emily, had attended one only a week since, at Vauxhall. It was a public event, and one where Aunt Eleanor, ever the high stickler, had refused her consent for Clarissa to join her. From all she’d said, it seemed that Emily had enjoyed the spectacle immensely, though even that pert miss had to admit the jostling crowds spoiled some of her pleasure. That some of the more vulgar elements, emboldened by the anonymity endowed by their masks, should have indulged in rather less than virtuous behaviour, hadn’t fazed her one bit. Indeed, she’d thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle, and following the common practice of removing their masks at midnight, had confessed to her delight in finding several other likewise respectable acquaintances in the booths alongside the central walkway at the venue.

  Cheered by a reverie of elegant and colourful lanterns lighting the gardens of the Chatsbury’s town mansion and the spectacular fireworks to follow, Clarissa was only too pleased to let her new maid dress her for the occasion.

  Her hair had been coiffured with a parting in the centre and arranged into full ringlets on either side of her face, speared with ribbons to match her dress. This was cut low on the bodice with a fashionable high waist and made of silk gauze, in a pale jonquil, with an under-dress of satin. The long, full sleeves were frilled at the wrist, and bust and shoulders emphasized by skilfully applied bands of silk. A skein of pale, iridescent pearls with matching ear-drops and low-heeled sandals with ankle ties and three strips across the vamp completed her outfit, apart from the mask. This was an all concealing, full face mask, painted in fantastical designs and colours to enhance her gown, its facets cunningly designed to reflect the light in stunning rainbows while effectively concealing her features.

  The Markhams and their niece drove to the party in their barouche, a little old-fashioned by the standard of the times, but owning a certain elegance which Uncle John set great store by. To Clarissa’s relief, the masque was as well attended as she’d expected and, hidden behind the protection of her mask, she hoped to delay, if not circumvent, any meeting with Lord Leighton – a fruitless aspiration, as she soon found out for herself.

  Clarissa quickly found herself separated from her relatives, but didn’t mind that in the least. A party of young revellers danced by on their way to the gardens, but though she recognized Emily amongst them, she disregarded all their pleas to join them. The gravest dangers would lie in a garden Leighton surely knew like the back of his hand.

  ‘Clarissa, my dear.’ Caroline greeted her unexpectedly. ‘You look absolutely ravishing. And your mask is so beautiful, I hardly recognized you.’ Her own mask barely covered her eyes and was in addition worn so askew as to render it easy to identify her.

  ‘I saw you arrive with the Markhams,’ she went on artlessly. ‘Their barouche is very distinctive and Sir Roger and I were in line a few carriages behind you.’ Then she explained her skill at recognizing her young friend despite the all envelopin
g mask. ‘Roger made straight for the card room, leaving me without an escort. I hope you don’t mind me attaching myself to you.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Clarissa assured her. She looked around carefully and asked the question with a nonchalance she certainly didn’t feel. ‘Is Richard here? Or is he coming later?’

  ‘Have you not seen him yet? He’s tricked out in a black lacquer mask it’s hard to miss.’

  Clarissa hadn’t noticed it as yet, but when she stared over her friend’s shoulder, she saw the very image of such a mask approaching.

  ‘Come,’ she told Caroline at once. ‘Let’s go and see the garden. I hear Chatsbury’s furnished a very fine lantern show, and doubtless Richard’s already made his way out there.’ She slipped an arm under Caroline’s and began to lead her outside, ruthlessly stemming any mutinous reaction from her friend by talking herself blue in the face. ‘I’m really looking forward to watching the fireworks,’ she started to prattle, ‘but I dare say they won’t start until midnight.’

  ‘So I’m informed.’ Lord Leighton spoke more gravely than his usual fashion, but there was no doubt as to his person. The mask was, as Caroline had foretold, a plain, black affair that covered most his face. He turned to his sister when they entered the gardens together. ‘You will excuse us, I’m sure, Caro. Clarissa and I have much to discuss.’

  It was the use of her own name that gave Clarissa pause. It made them somehow more intimate, alone together, although they were still in the midst of a crowd. Richard took her arm and she consented to be drawn away from the safe ground next to his sister. Not that he ever had any intention of letting me escape, she reflected warily.