The Bride Wore Scandal

‘Lord Rockley? I don’t believe I’ve heard of him. Who is he?’

‘Trouble, Christina. The worst. Hell and damnation!’ William exclaimed angrily, pushing his fair hair from his forehead in frustration. ‘Why does he have to come tonight—just when things are going well?’

‘Then why did you invite him?’

William looked at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses. ‘Invite him?’ he burst out. ‘I didn’t invite him. Rockley invited himself. I was at Middleton Lodge to take a look at Sir Gilbert Rosing’s recently acquired stallion when he just turned up. When Gilbert mentioned that he was coming here tonight, in a calm and disarming way Rockley told me he was new to the district, and that because of the increasing assaults on travellers, which is causing the Lord Lieutenant a great deal of concern, he has been appointed to the area to curb the illegal activities of the highway robbers who persist in evading the law. What better place to start, he said, than by getting to know the local gentry at a gathering here at Oakbridge—if I didn’t mind him trespassing on my hospitality.’

Christina was shocked. ‘Oh! What did you say?’

‘What could I say other than that I would be honoured to have him as a guest and to stay the night, since he is residing with his brother five miles away—too far from him to travel back late at night.’

Despite the fear beginning to quake through her, Christina managed to sound calm. ‘But—this is terrible news. Do you think he suspects what goes on here at Oakbridge?’

‘I don’t think so—at least, I hope not. I have no idea what is in his head—what he expects to find.’ He shook his head in exasperation. ‘I’m no good at all this subterfuge, Christina, no good at all.’

‘I’m glad you’re not.’

‘I’m sure I must have guilt written all over me.’

‘No, you have not and you must try to stay calm,’ Christina said soothingly. ‘What is he like—this Lord Rockley?’

‘A cool one, I can tell you—a retired military man—with a reputation to instil fear into the stoutest heart.’

‘Even Mark Bucklow’s?’ she asked quietly, hoping and wishing this would be so.

‘As to that, we shall have to wait and see. To his enemies, Rockley is the most hated and feared of all Marlborough’s commanders. They believe he is a monster, a barbarian, more evil than the Devil himself—and more dangerous, for whereas the Devil is a spirit, Rockley is flesh and blood.’

Suddenly the atmosphere was filled with gruesome predictions of violence and death; Christina stared at her brother in mute horror, for surely no man could be as bad as that, and hoped that what William said was pure hysteria passed on by word of mouth from Lord Rockley’s enemies. But despite her doubts, at that moment a bank of cloud passed over the house and darkened the room. A cold shiver ran down her spine, as if nature herself brooded at the mention of such evil.

‘Dear me, this Lord Rockley sounds quite fearsome. And this is the man who is to stay at Oakbridge?’

William nodded. ‘He looked me straight in the eye as he spoke—it was a challenge almost, as if testing my reaction. Such men are better dealt with in calm deliberation, not youthful bravado, so naturally I had to agree that it was high time someone brought these fellows preying on innocent travellers to justice and left it at that.’

‘But—tonight of all nights. What shall we do? Mark has it all planned. Lord Rockley could ruin everything.’

‘No, he won’t,’ William countered fiercely, pacing the small area of floor between the flower-filled urn and Christina. ‘We must see to it that he doesn’t suspect a thing.’

‘Oh, how I wish we could cancel the party—to send word to everyone not to come.’

‘It’s too late for that. Besides, Mark wouldn’t allow it. You know the rules,’ William uttered with bitter irony, having come to rue the day he’d met Mark Bucklow and fallen into his clutches. ‘Tonight the gentry are coming to Oakbridge to make merry. The windows will be blazing with light and the drink flowing—enough to sodden their wits for their journey home. Do as he says, keep him happy and we’ll be all right. But, by God, if you open your mouth and squeal, Christina, he’ll break us both.’

Christina faced her brother, holding her hands in front of her so they wouldn’t tremble. ‘I understand, William, and I’ve never gossiped in my life. It doesn’t matter to me what Mark Bucklow does or what company he keeps, I’ll do what he asks and he’ll have no cause to grumble. But if he hurts you in any way, I’ll go and find a magistrate and bring him here. I’ll have the law on him. Then let him try and break me.’

Her show of spirit brought a grim smile to William’s lips. ‘That’s a pretty speech, Christina. Scratch you and you show your claws, but Mark has more sense and cunning than the law and we both know it. The constables are too scared to shove their noses into what he does.’

What he said was true. All her life Christina had felt content in the quiet, comfortable, well-to-do existence into which she had been born. And yet, it had only taken William’s meeting with Mark Bucklow to set the wheels of fate in motion, precipitating her from the tranquil monotony of her familiar world into the future, whose far-reaching horizons were hazy and unknowable and often frightening.

Mark Bucklow was one of the most dangerous and feared men Christina had ever met or heard about. There were many in the fraternity who were in awe of him and feared him. Mark’s rule over his gang of thieves was supreme. The fraternity’s meetings took place at Oakbridge, in a labyrinth of ancient tunnels running beneath the house. The chamber he used was at the exit of the tunnels, the perfect hideaway, so well situated for his organisation that he and his associates could come and go as they pleased with comparative ease.

Oakbridge was in the heart of Mark’s domain, where constables were reluctant to venture. Mark knew every highway and byway, every house and hiding place and escape route, every type of thief and scoundrel who worked for him and owed him a cut of their earnings, and if any dared take their plunder elsewhere, he’d be floating in the river before the day’s end. Only the most hard-bitten thieves and cut-throats defied Mark Bucklow, and brave though he tried be, William wasn’t one of them. Mark had threatened to kill him if he didn’t comply with his wishes. It was no idle threat. William knew this and he was right to be afraid—not only for his own life, but for Christina’s also.

Christina had no illusions about her brother and she had to stop herself from conjuring up all the gruesome outcomes of his involvement with Mark Bucklow of which her imagination was capable, lest she frighten herself into an early grave. She loved William dearly, but she could not ignore the fact that he was inclined to laziness.

Their father had dispatched him to Balliol College at Oxford University to read law. Their father had died while William was at university, leaving him a wealthy young man. Elevated to a position of importance, he had left his studies for the seedy delights on offer in London. Here he had taken up with a wild, rakish set of young men. Awestruck, his new cronies introduced him to the private clubs of the elite and to the high-stake games of chance that flourished within these establishments. It had been a heady temptation that he could not resist. Lacking any kind of guidance, he had recklessly gone his own way, and within two years his wealth was exhausted.

It was at this desperate time that William became associated with Mark Bucklow. Seduced by Bucklow’s talk of riches beyond belief, William had taken the money Mark offered to pay off some of his most pressing creditors, with the promise of paying it back when his circumstances improved. Truly believing he was on his way to Eldorado, he had fallen for every word that dripped from the villain’s silken tongue. It certainly meant a new and profitable beginning for him, and further confirmed the steadfast belief that he was in full control of his own destiny and would now have whatever he desired. How wrong he had been.

‘Mark cannot go on doing what he does for ever,’ Christina said. ‘He likes the idea of easy money and associating with wealthy people. Little good it will do him when he is caught.’

‘I don’t think it’s like that. In fact, it’s rather difficult to decide what he does with the money he gets from the robberies—none of it has come my way, that’s for sure,’ William complained bitterly. ‘In fact, Christina, I don’t know anything about Mark at all. When he’s not in London, his business dealing seems to radiate from a room in an inn somewhere.’

‘How do you know this?’

‘I keep my ears open. He meets with other men there—at the Black Swan Inn over at Wakeham. It’s all very secretive. The lot of them usually scatter after the meetings, going in different directions.’

Christina frowned, curious as to what else other than highway robbery Mark was mixed up in. ‘Whatever else he’s involved in, I hope you keep out of it. You’re in deep enough as it is. How I wish you’d never met him, but we both know why he approached you. Mark is clever, scheming and cunning—and he has murdered more people than I care to know about. He had his eyes set on Oakbridge—a house in a splendid isolated location and full of secret places. What better place for him to operate his network from—and you, with your pocket to let, provided him with the perfect opportunity.’

Embarrassment tinted William’s handsome face with a ruddy hue. ‘I know and I’m fed up with saying I’m sorry.’

‘And I’m sorry. So very sorry.’ Christina’s heart went out to him. He was not bad, she thought, merely weak. ‘But it is better to live in poverty than this.’

‘What can I do? I am involved up to my neck—even though I haven’t received a penny piece from him in all these months.’

‘I’m glad, because that would make you as big a criminal as he is. It has all worked out to his advantage—just as he planned it. It pains me to think I have to take part in it. I hate it, William. I hate what we do—the anxieties and the misery of it all. And tonight, being forced to hold this party, I shall die a thousand deaths should the crimes he and his cohorts carry out on the guests returning to their homes be traced back here.’

‘As long as we keep our mouths shut we’ll be all right. At Oakbridge we have comfort. Would you prefer the squalor of prison while you await the hangman’s pleasure or transportation?’

The cruelty of his words lashed into her, and with tears burning the backs of her eyes, she turned her head away. ‘Please don’t say that. I am frightened. I hate the hold Mark has over us and I fear greatly what will become of us. If you should put one foot wrong, William—or me—he will not hesitate to kill us.’

Aware of the intensity of her feelings and her fear, William softened. ‘I know, which is why we must do as he says. Here you are safe, Christina.’

‘What I want is peace of mind and security, and a life without Mark Bucklow. When you took up with him, I recall warning you to be careful what you wished for—that you may get it, but at a cost. And your association with him may cost us dear.’ She gave him a meaningful look. ‘I don’t think Squire Kershaw would be quite so eager to allow your marriage to Miranda to go ahead should he find out about your association with Mark.’

William blanched visibly. Becoming betrothed to Miranda was the one good thing that had happened to him in recent months, and he dearly wanted to make her his wife. She was sweet and gentle and he loved her dearly. Her father was in favour of a match between them, but William knew Squire Kershaw would pull back if it became known that thieves were using Oakbridge as their base with his permission. He had taken Miranda to London to visit relatives. They were expected to leave for their home in Cirencester very soon, and were to call at Oakbridge on the way.

‘I know the situation, Christina,’ William replied crossly, her persistence to continue harping on about it hardening his mood. ‘Must you turn everything into a high tragedy? I can only hope to God Squire Kershaw doesn’t find out about what goes on here.’

‘For your sake, so do I. If Mark chooses to make his living from outwitting the gullible, then that is his affair. But if things go wrong, then it will be you who will pay the price, not Mark. They say the devil looks after his own, and they don’t come much uglier than Mark Bucklow. I know him well enough to despise him—as much as I do this Lord Rockley for inviting himself to Oakbridge and making me afraid and uncertain,’ she uttered crossly and meant every word.

She imagined him to have an ugly face with a bent nose, close-set eyes and yellow teeth, a man who would hardly care about the havoc he had brought upon his enemies and her nerves. How dare he have the effrontery to invite himself to Oakbridge? She would dearly like to shatter his composure to her satisfaction and give him a tongue-lashing that would lay him low for a week and make him think twice before coming again.

‘Whatever happens, we must be clever and see that he has not the least suspicion about what goes on here at Oakbridge. I doubt Mark will forgo the opportunity of obtaining thousands of pounds’ worth of goods, but we must make him aware of the danger. When the guests have arrived, you must slip away and warn him. You’ll find him in the usual place, organising the night’s work. After that it’s up to him.’

Christina paled. ‘But—you know how much I hate that tunnel, William. I cannot …’

‘Yes, you can,’ William said roughly. ‘You must. If you leave during the firework display, your absence will be least noticed.’

Christina hesitated for a moment, then, determination in the set of her small jaw, the expression in her eyes almost truculent, she said, ‘Very well, but you know how I feel about facing Mark and his band of ruffians.’