Page 116 of Aurelia

“She did not say.”

He heaved a sigh and sat back, still holding her hand. “I was furious. Not just because Rebecca was carrying another man’s child, but because of what would happen if my father found out. He had scattered bastards near and far—as was his right as laird—but he would never allow a cuckoo in his own nest.”

“But… what could he have done about it?” Aurelia asked.

He gave her a grim look. “You never met my father.”

“Are you saying he might have harmed your wife?”

“Or the child.”

Aurelia stared, too shocked to speak.

“Thankfully I never had to find out just how far he would go because he fell ill not long after we married and he did not live to see Celsa’s birth.”

“You were not angry with your wife about Celsa?” she couldn’t help asking.

Roland shrugged. “I honestly did not care whose child inherited. If my father had lived, he would have tried to force me to breed Rebecca like a broodmare until there was a son. Not because it mattered to the succession—a woman can inherit if there is no male—but because he wanted a grandson he could mold into his likeness. As he had done with me.”

“He sounds… awful.”

Roland smiled grimly. “You have no idea.” He shook himself and continued. “I was prepared to ignore the child—I already had Guustin and he was enough for me—but something happened when I saw Celsa”—he suddenly laughed—“she was an ugly, ill-tempered baby who squalled incessantly. She was much too small and the midwife cautioned me against naming her as she did not believe she would survive.” Roland shoved a hand through his hair, a welter of emotions flickering across his face. “Celsa fought so hard to live it was… awe-inspiring,” he said. He glanced at Aurelia. “I might be a selfish arse, but I knew it wasn’t her fault she’d been born in the middle of a mess. As far as I was concerned, Celsa was my heir, and if I never had a son, then she would be mistress of Crewe.

“I wasn’t the only one who was changed by Celsa’s birth. Perhaps it was simply a result of motherhood, or maybe Rebecca’s lover—whoever he was—had gone out of her life. Whatever the reason, she began to accept that we were married and make the best of it.

“We spent those early months after Celsa’s birth learning more about each other, something neither of us had bothered to do before. No grand passion sprang up between us and we did not fall in love, but we no longer wanted to hurt each other.”

He stopped and met Aurelia’s gaze. “In short, we both decided to make the most of our marriage. Rebecca was delighted when she discovered after a few months that she was pregnant—or at least she made a damned convincing show of it—and so was I. For the first time, there was genuine affection and optimism.” His expression turned wintery. “And then she disappeared.”

“How did it happen?” she asked, even though she’d heard various versions from other people.

“I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell. Her maid confirmed that all her clothing was in her dressing room and none of her valises were gone. It was fortunate that Arthur, who had worked all night as he often did and was about to go to bed around dawn, saw Rebecca leave the house. He said she was not carrying any bags or anything out of the ordinary. She took out one of the boats and never came back. The boat eventually washed up on the island about three weeks later. There was nothing in it and no sign of what might have happened.” He shrugged. “And that was all.”

“You think something happened to her while she was rowing the boat somewhere?”

“It depends on who you ask. Some people think she drowned, others believe that her lover came for her and then set one of our boats adrift to confuse the issue.” He shrugged. “I do not know. I paid inquiry agents for more than two years and there was not so much as a whisper about her.”

“Until six weeks ago,” Aurelia said.

Roland nodded. “Until six weeks ago.”

They sat in silence, consumed by their thoughts.

Aurelia was the first to speak. “You said she was happy after Celsa’s birth?”

“Yes. She spent a good part of most days with her. She even refused the services of a wet-nurse which, as you know, is almost unheard of among women of our class.”

It was very unusual. Aurelia’s own mother had, like many others, sent her infants to live at the house of a wet-nurse until they were weaned.

Roland sighed. “After seven years, she was declared dead. Not long afterward I remarried.” He resumed his pacing. “Which brings me to Jane, another story that does not put me in the best light. Jane was the daughter of my mentor at university. James Dickenson was England’s premier naturalist. Unlike most men, it did not bother him that he’d never had a son to carry on his work. He thought the world of Jane, and it was certainly true that she was brilliant.”

Aurelia felt an unpleasant twinge in her belly and was disgusted that she could feel jealous of a dead woman.

“Dickenson was certain that Jane would make earth-shaking discoveries in the world of botany and he could not countenance anything or anyone interfering with her destiny.” He met her gaze and smiled wryly. “He also knew of his daughter’s, er, adventurous spirit when it came to sexual matters and worried she would become pregnant outside wedlock.”

He smiled vaguely and Aurelia could see that he had once again gone somewhere else—or sometime else—in his mind.

“I had never thought to meet myself in female form, but that was Jane,” Roland finally said.