Conspiracy Of Hearts

‘I’m sure your father loves you too well to involve himself in anything that would cause you harm.’

‘His past behaviour leads me to think otherwise, and if he is involved then so am I by association.’ Serena looked at Kit beseechingly as they rode into the stable yard, her lovely eyes wide and deeply troubled, stirred despite her earlier animosity by what he had confided to her. ‘Lord Brodie, will you speak to him—discover how deeply he is involved? Please tell him of your suspicions and warn him.’

Kit shook his head slowly, jumping down from his horse when a stable lad came to take it from him. ‘If he is embroiled in any conspiracy, then I doubt he would disclose it to me. But after saying that, my instinct tells me most assuredly that he has no hand in any scheme.’

The sky loomed dark and impenetrable, and by the time they reached the house a heavy downpour was unleashed on them. Kit paused, taking Serena’s arm and turning her to face him. Knowing full well what she was going through, he was genuinely reluctant to leave her, but he had been right to speak to her. She must be warned in order to prepare herself should his suspicions be realised.

Serena blinked droplets of rain from her lashes as she looked up at Kit in question, seeing his expression was grave but calm.

‘I won’t speak of this matter again,’ he said, ‘but if it will make you feel easier I will have a word with Sir Henry later.’

It was his tone that caught all Serena’s attention and made her look long at the swarthy, rather saturnine face. As she searched those dark eyes which studied her closely, she realised that Lord Brodie had not spoken to her casually. He was deadly serious about what he had confided to her.

‘Yes, thank you. I would appreciate that. But please don’t involve yourself further on my father’s behalf. It could prove dangerous to you. But what can I do?’

‘There is nothing you can do except wait for events to unfold.’

‘What? Wait for my father to be arrested?’

‘Let us pray it doesn’t come to that.’

Chapter Four

As soon as Serena’s carriage drew up outside Carberry Hall, Dorothea hurried out of the house with a welcoming smile.

‘Serena! I should scold you severely for staying away so long.’

‘The same could be said of yourself, Dorothea,’ Serena laughed, embracing her cousin affectionately. ‘Your absence from Dunedin Hall has been noted, too.’

‘I’m sure it has. Father will not hear of me visiting Dunedin Hall for fear of me being converted to your faith. He’s terrified I’ll become so involved that I’ll take the vows of a nun and live out my life in a convent abroad. I tell him I’m much too sinful to do that,’ she said on a slightly cynical note, ‘but he won’t have it.’

‘You? Sinful? If ever there was a person without sin, Dorothea, it is you,’ Serena told her, and was sure this was true. Yet there were times when her cousin puzzled her, times when she suspected Dorothea was not the quiet mouse she would have everyone believe. She submitted herself to her father’s authority without complaint. But, despite her poise, which she always managed to maintain throughout his angry blusterings, Serena suspected that rebellion stirred within her breast.

Serena entered the high impressive hall of Carberry Hall, the house in which her own father had lived before his marriage to her mother, Lady Anne, who had brought with her Dunedin Hall. A welcoming fire blazed in the hearth of a small sitting room; pulling her down on to the sofa, Dorothea hugged her cousin again.

‘I have missed our chats. I have so much to tell you. How long can you stay? A few days at least, I hope.’

‘I have nothing to hurry home for. Father’s days are so taken up with hunting that he won’t miss me too much. You look wonderful, Dorothea—and I hear dramatic changes have been taking place in your life. You are to be married, I believe…to the marquess of Thurlow.’

A fleeting frown touched Dorothea’s brow and she looked a little pensive. ‘Yes, that is so. Have you heard of him?’

‘He stayed at Dunedin Hall last night, as a matter of fact. Lord Brodie came to purchase some of Father’s horses for his stable at Thurlow.’ Sensing that Dorothea felt no joy in her betrothal, Serena’s curiosity was kindled. ‘You can’t have known each other long, Dorothea. When I last came to stay there was no mention of Lord Brodie.’

‘You are right, and I confess I don’t know him very well. The match was hastily made three months ago. Father has a high regard for him, having come to know him through the old marquess before he died. Since then, when Lord Brodie returned from the Low Countries to take over his inheritance, they have become better acquainted and he has called here on occasion.’

‘It is a good match,’ said Serena. ‘According to my father he is influential in government and court circles—and thought very highly of by the king, too, by all accounts.’

Dorothea’s lips formed a tremulous smile. ‘I know. Since titles and wealth are paramount to Father, he was determined to choose the man with the highest rank who offered for me. Since the marquess was the only one who did, there was no choice to make. Lord Brodie is a fine man and always polite and very charming. He is also extremely handsome—as you will have seen for yourself.’

Yes, Serena thought, Lord Bordie was that—but he was also the most arrogant, insufferable and confounding man she had ever met.

‘And do you want to marry him?’ Serena asked gently, concealing her own tumultuous thoughts where that gentleman was concerned. Sensitive and sympathetic to her cousin’s concern, she sensed Dorothea was far from reconciled to becoming Lord Brodie’s wife. Marriage to that particular gentleman would be enough to raise troubling disquiet in any woman. If their roles were reversed, Serena would consider it just cause for complaint and violently oppose it. ‘Are you happy about it?’

‘I am happy enough and contented,’ Dorothea replied, without enthusiasm, Serena observed. She noted a fleeting, wistful look enter her cousin’s eyes which puzzled her. Was it possible that someone else had won a place in Dorothea’s heart?

‘I have no sentimental illusions about my betrothal,’ Dorothea continued, ‘and there have been no courtly love games between Lord Brodie and I. We do not know each other well enough for that.’

‘But you will.’

‘I know, and I can think of worse men to be paired off with. I have to obey my father. Neither he nor Lord Brodie are men to be refused lightly. Whatever Lord Brodie says and every impression he makes are serious and permanent. He’s so formidable—so frightening, in a way—that I can’t help feeling he will exert so much influence on me that I will not fulfil his expectations as a wife.’ Dorothea sighed deeply. ‘How I wish Father had chosen someone with a quieter disposition for me to wed.’

Serena was deeply sympathetic. ‘Dorothea, if you have any doubts about this marriage you must make them known to your father.’

‘How can I? Father is not to be gainsaid.’ She smiled softly into Serena’s eyes. ‘I’m not like you, Serena. You have more nerve than the devil himself. I would never dare question my father’s judgement or his wishes—but I feel that he, too, is having doubts about the match.’

Serena’s eyes opened wide in amazement. ‘Oh?’

‘Yes, it’s true. At first he was keen for me to marry the marquess, but it has come to his ears that Lord Brodie may have Catholic sympathies. A large number of his friends are not just of the Catholic faith, but are also well-known recusants—and you know Father’s views on that. He is afraid that Lord Brodie will by persuaded to become a convert, and that I, too, will be drawn in when we marry.’

‘And what is wrong with that? I am of that faith—and so is my father,’ Serena exclaimed in a rush of indignation.

‘But you are blood kin. I suppose that’s different.’

‘No, it isn’t, Dorothea. It’s hypocritical of your father to practise standards contrary to his beliefs. If he denies one then he should deny them all. But I don’t think he need worry on Lord Brodie’s account,’ Serena said, recalling the conversation she’d had with that gentleman on this very subject. ‘I think if he had any Catholic leanings at all he would have been converted long before now.’

Lord Carberry chose that moment to enter the room, having been told of Serena’s arrival. Immediately and simultaneously both Serena and Dorothea rose from the sofa. In a calm and dignified silence they waited for him to speak.

Lord Carberry was a hard and dispassionate man. Tall and gaunt with the profile of a hawk, he bore no resemblance to his brother. His grey eyes under drawn-together bushy eyebrows were grim and full of scrutiny as he looked at his Catholic niece. It rankled sorely that his own brother belonged to that faith, and he was determined not to allow his daughter to follow suit by marrying into a Catholic family. As meek and pliant as she was, she would become corrupted in no time at all.

Despite his grand title and vast estates, the marquess of Thurlow would have to make his views and opinions on that subject absolutely clear before any vows were exchanged between that particular gentleman and Dorothea at the altar.

It had recently come to his attention that Sir Thomas Blackwell was expected to return at any time to Ashcombe Manor. Should it be proved that the marquess did have Catholic leanings, it was not too late to give his daughter’s hand in marriage to someone else—and Thomas Blackwell was eminently suitable. It did not cross his mind to consult Dorothea on the change he might make to her suitor, and he was selfishly insensitive to the fact that she might feel deeply resentful. The advantage would be in having a son-in-law whose religious opinions matched his own.

Lord Carberry greeted his niece stiffly. ‘So, Serena, you have come to spend a few days with Dorothea,’ he said at length.

‘Yes. It’s good of you to have me stay, Uncle. Dorothea and I have much to catch up on,’ Serena replied respectfully. When she looked into her uncle’s cold eyes that glared down at her, she could see that nothing had changed. No matter how agreeable she always tried to be when she came to Carberry Hall, it never would. Because of her religion her uncle did not want her in his house, and only tolerated her presence out of family duty and to please Dorothea.

‘And Henry? Am I to expect a visit from him?’

‘No, Uncle. Father has been invited to Woodfield Grange by Lord Payne for the hunting. It is expected to be a large affair. I believe Sir Everard Digby and other guests from nearby Coughton Court are included in the party.’

Lord Carberry chose that moment to clear his throat, unable to converse on this matter without sounding contemptuous. He had no particular liking for either Lord Payne or Everard Digby, both of them Catholics. Digby was a handsome, easygoing young man who was passionately fond of every kind of field sport and lived very well with his wife at Gayhurst in Buckinghamshire.

For hunting purposes, Digby had only recently rented the imposing Coughton Court from Thomas Throckmorton, who had gone abroad the previous year—another of his neighbours, Lord Carberry thought with deep condemnation, whose fortunes were heavily depleted by recusancy. No matter which way he turned, he was bedevilled by Catholics.

‘We’re expecting company in a couple of days,’ Lord Carberry told Serena coldly, moving towards the door. ‘Lord Brodie, Dorothea’s betrothed, is to pay us a brief visit. He will be accompanied by a friend of his, Sir Ludovick Lamont. Sir Ludovick is a Scottish gentleman and highly thought of by King James—although I cannot say as much myself,’ he grumbled without enlarging on the fact that he shared the resentment of most of the English for these greedy northerners, on whom King James lavished his attention and had been quick to promote to exalted positions at court. ‘No doubt Dorothea will be impatient to introduce you to Lord Brodie. He’s a fine man and is highly respected.’

‘Lord Brodie and I are already acquainted, Uncle,’ Serena stated.