At Last Comes Love

24

THERE was a whole day when nothing dreadful happened and it seemed that nothing would.

Surely Randolph Turner would not dare to come, Margaret thought. And yet the stakes were high for him. The son he had wanted and schemed so desperately and fiendishly to get was actually in existence. The child had been born to his legal wife less than nine months after she left him. And it might seem unlikely to him that he would have any other children, unless he used the same method as before.

Margaret knew he would come.

They all knew it.

Duncan had told the whole story to Stephen and Elliott. Margaret had told Vanessa. The time for secrecy, for the keeping of a promise of secrecy, was long gone.

On the second day they took a picnic tea down to a secluded stretch of the river, which was nevertheless within sight of the front of the house. Elliott fished with Toby for a while, and then Stephen galloped about with the child on his back. Duncan swung him in circles until they were both dizzy, and Vanessa told him about her own children, whom she was missing dreadfully. "Your cousins," she said, ruffling his hair. "They are going to enjoy playing with you." Margaret fed him a meat pasty before it was officially teatime when he claimed to be starving. "He is going to be a horribly spoiled child," she commented to Vanessa when Toby had run back to demand more attention from the men. "Oh, don't, Meg," Vanessa said, patting her on the back. "Loving and paying attention to a child is not spoiling him but just the opposite.

All will be well. You will see." Margaret wiped away her tears, which seemed to flow so easily these days. "Yes," she said, and smiled. "It will, Nessie." And then, abruptly, "I am several days late." "Oh, Meg." Vanessa looked sharply at her. "Does Duncan know?" "No," Margaret said. "There is really nothing to know yet. Nothing at all certain, anyway. Perhaps it is nothing at all." Her sister continued to pat her back.

Margaret was feeling cautiously cheerful as she and Duncan packed up the picnic basket later and they all prepared to stroll back to the house.

Perhaps the alarm had been sounded for no good reason – except that it had brought some of her family on an unexpected visit. They would probably stay for a few more days, and then she and Duncan and Toby would be alone together again and life would return to normal.

Or would it? /Could/ it?

And was she really feeling cheerful? How could she when her stomach was knotted with dread? /Something/ was going to happen.

Toby went skipping and dashing off ahead as he usually did. The men walked together ahead of the ladies, the picnic basket tucked under Stephen's arm.

And then they all became aware of a large traveling carriage approaching up the driveway. "Toby," Duncan called sharply.

But the child either did not hear him or was too excited to stop to see what his papa wanted of him. He went running off in the direction of the terrace, and Duncan went after him.

They all increased their pace.

Toby reached the terrace before Duncan caught up to him. So did the carriage. The door opened and someone vaulted out without waiting for the steps to be set down. He grabbed Toby, but the child wriggled free and came dashing back to Duncan, who bent briefly to say something to him and then strode onward to meet his visitors.

Toby came dashing back to the others, his feet pumping beneath him, his arms outstretched, sheer terror on his face.

Elliott would have scooped him up, but he dashed past, wailing in panic. "Mama," he cried. "Mama, Mama." Margaret bent down, gathered him into her arms, and stood again.

He wrapped his arms about her neck tightly enough to half choke her, and pressed himself to her as if he would have climbed right inside her if he could. "Mama," he said. "A bad man. A bad man has come to take me away." He was radiating fear and heat. "Shh," she said, rocking him. "Shh, love. No one is going to take you anywhere. Papa is here, and so is Mama. No one is going to hurt you." Pray God she spoke the truth. "He is a bad man," he said, his chest heaving, his face pressed to her neck. "But Papa and Uncle Elliott and Uncle Stephen are /good/ men," she said. "And Aunt Nessie and I are good ladies. We are not going to let anyone hurt you or take you anywhere." Oh, dear God, let it be the truth.

His body gradually relaxed against hers and he stopped wailing, though he still clung tightly to her.

Elliott and Stephen had kept going and were on the terrace with Duncan.

It was Norman Pennethorne who had vaulted out of the carriage, Margaret could see now. He was handing down his wife from the carriage, and Randolph Turner was coming behind her.

Strangely, it was almost a relief to see them. This matter needed to be settled, and now perhaps it would be.

She kissed Toby's damp curls before moving onward. "/There/ he is," Caroline Pennethorne cried, pointing toward Margaret as she stepped onto the terrace. "Oh, look at him, Randolph. He is a boy already, and you have been deprived of him all this time. It is criminal. You will surely swing for this, Lord Sheringford, and I will be delighted to come and watch and cheer with the rest of the mob. The kidnapping of a child carries the death penalty, does it not, Norman?" Toby had tightened his grip again and was moaning, his face pressed to Margaret's neck. His whole body trembled convulsively. "You will indeed suffer for this, Sheringford," Mr. Pennethorne said. "You – " "Might I suggest," Duncan said in biting tones, "that we conduct this discussion in civilized fashion in the drawing room, away from the ears of servants – and children?" Randolph Turner was standing at the foot of the carriage steps, silent and pale, his eyes riveted on Toby. "We will not set foot inside Woodbine while you are master here, Sheringford," Mr. Pennethorne declared. "Which will not be for much longer, I am delighted to inform you." "Then we will talk outside," Duncan said. "On the avenue behind the house." He gestured in the direction of the bridge. "Will you be so good as to take Toby up to the nursery, Maggie, and have Mrs. Harris remain with him there?" Toby wailed and tightened his grip. "We are not going to allow that child out of our sight," Mr. Pennethorne said, "only to have him spirited away by the time we return for him." "Then Mrs. Pennethorne must remain and risk sullying her person by stepping inside the house with us," Margaret said, suddenly coldly angry. "I will stay with Toby in the nursery, Duncan. He needs me. I daresay Nessie will too." She hated to miss what was about to happen. Waiting to hear about it would be a mortal agony. But Toby was not going to be left in the care of servants, even if Mrs. Harris had had the care of him all his life.

He was the important one in all this, after all. And he had just called her Mama. "I am not setting foot inside that house," Mrs. Pennethorne said. "The devil's lair. I am coming with you, Norman. And with Randolph." There was no further argument.

Margaret climbed the steps to the house, Vanessa beside her, and she carried Toby up to the nursery, where she sat in a deep chair, cradling him on her lap.

Vanessa disappeared for a few moments and returned with a large woolly blanket, which she tucked about Toby even though it was a warm day and his body was still radiating heat.

In no time at all he was fast asleep.

Duncan strode off in the direction of the bridge and the grassy avenue beyond it. Merton and Moreland were just behind him. He did not look back to see if the others were following. He did not stop until he was far enough down the avenue that they were quite out of earshot from the house or stables.

Norman spoke first. "You deserve to be horsewhipped, Sheringford," he said. "And it would give me the greatest pleasure to be the one doing the whipping.

Unfortunately, you may escape with nothing worse than transportation or a hanging. I did not believe even you capable of such villainy. Caroline has been inconsolable since she learned the truth, and Randolph has been – " "Norm." Duncan held up one hand. "Before you launch further into your speech, may I ask if Turner has lost his tongue since I last saw him at my aunt's soiree? I would have thought this was /his/ speech to deliver." Turner had not uttered a word since his arrival. But everyone looked at him expectantly now.

He cleared his throat. "You aided and abetted my wife in keeping my son from me, Sheringford," he said. "And then you continued to keep him from me after her death. I am not as hot-headed as Norman. I am of a more forgiving nature. I have come for my son, and I will take him with me when I leave. I am prepared to leave you to your conscience." "Randolph!" Norman exclaimed, puffed up with outrage. "You cannot possibly – " Duncan held up his hand again. "Yes," he said, "it is what I expected you would be prepared to do, Turner. Is my guess correct? Is Norm the only one in this group who does not know the whole story?" Turner blanched more if that were possible. "I know – " Norman began. "Oh, hold your tongue," Turner said sharply, and Norman was left with his mouth hanging open, unutterable surprise on his face. "My brothers-in-law know the truth," Duncan said. "My wife knows it. So does my sister-in-law. The other members of our immediate family will know it soon as the time for secrecy is over. The truth can no longer hurt poor Laura. My wife's family are people of some influence, Turner.

So are my grandfather and my mother and stepfather. All are people whose word is trusted. And all are people who can keep their own counsel when it is asked of them. It is up to you now to decide how many other people outside my family circle will know the story surrounding Toby's conception – no one or everyone. It must be one or the other." Turner attempted to bluster. "I do not know what you think you know, Sheringford," he said. "I do not know what lies my wife told you – she was not much given to truth-telling, God knows. The child is /mine/." "He even /looks/ like you, Randolph," Caroline said. "When he came running up to the carriage, it was like seeing you as a child again. No one, seeing him, can possibly dispute the fact that he is yours." "He also," Merton said, his voice perfectly amiable, "resembles your half brother, ma'am. Or so I have been told. I have not met the man in person. Though I will if I ever need to. It would be a pleasure, in fact." /"Gareth/?" Caroline said. "If that is his name, ma'am," Merton said, inclining his head. "I understand he was your brother's valet five years or so ago – a pleasant arrangement for you all, I am sure. You must be fond of him." "Caroline, my love, what – " Norman began. "You cannot prove a thing, Sheringford," Turner said, his face flushing with color suddenly, his hands opening and closing at his sides, his face contorted with fury. "Of all the filthy things to suggest. Is /that/ what she told you? I – " Duncan raised his eyebrows when he stopped abruptly. "You will punch me senseless for provoking you, Turner?" he asked. "I doubt it. I would punch back, you see, and might knock /you/ senseless.

You would not like that, would you? Let us be rational and sensible instead. I have a proposal to make to you." "Now, see here, Sheringford," Norman said. "You are not in any position – " "Oh, /do/ be quiet," Caroline said.

Norman shut his mouth with a clacking of teeth. "This is it," Duncan said. "You return to London, be quite open and frank with anyone who will listen – and everyone will – about where you have been and why you came here, and then declare that you were quite mistaken, that you are convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Toby is /not/ yours, that he was conceived in sin while Laura and I were lovers before we ran away together. You will publicly repudiate him and refuse to accept him as your son or to take any responsibility for him. Then you may carry on with your life in any manner you please." "This is /preposterous/, Randolph," Norman cried. "He is in no – " "You would be well advised to button your lips, Pennethorne," Moreland said. "How can I repudiate my own son?" Turner asked, licking his lips. "He is /mine/, Sheringford. I – " "You /what/, Turner?" Duncan asked him. "You watched him being conceived?" Caroline clapped both hands to her mouth.

Norman gaped.

Turner blanched again. "There will be some snickering behind your back, I do not doubt," Duncan said, "over the fact that I was cuckolding you even before I ran off with Laura. But it will be no more than most people already believe. And you will get off lightly, Turner. The ladies will weep over you. You may even put it about, if you wish, that you blackened both my eyes while you were here. I will not contradict you, and I daresay my brothers-in-law will not either." Turner continued to stare at him. "Take it or leave it," Duncan said. "If you leave it, Turner, the entire /ton/ will know the whole truth. Doubtless most of them will believe the story even if it comes only from my mouth – people like to believe the worst of others, as you may have noticed. But when other, well-respected voices are joined to mine – the Duke of Moreland's, the Earl of Merton's, Baron Montford's, the Marquess of Claverbrook's, Sir Graham Carling's, not to mention their wives, I doubt you will be able to find a corner of England in which to hide from the scorn and scandal that will be the inevitable result. The law and the church may give you Toby, but your life will be worthless. The choice is yours." "I /wish/ someone would tell me," Norman said, "what this is all about.

You do not have a leg to stand on, Sheringford. You are a child kidnapper and a rogue. You have hidden the very existence of a child from his lawful and loving father for almost five years." Everyone ignored him.

Turner licked his lips again. "He is my /son/," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "But he is not, is he?" Duncan said. "Not in any way at all. In all ways that matter he is mine. He even has my name. He was christened Tobias Duncan Pennethorne – my natural son, who will be loved all his life as dearly as if he were as legitimate as my other children will be." "And whom his new mother and uncles and aunts love dearly and have welcomed into my family too," Merton added. "Randolph," Norman said, "would you – " But Turner had turned on his heel and was striding back in the direction of the house. "Caroline," Norman said, "would you – " "Oh, be /quiet/!" she cried, turning on him, her eyes flashing. "Cannot you see that he is blackmailing Randolph and that Randolph has no choice but to allow it? You do not believe Laura would have run away from him if the child had really been his, do you? And he is not Lord Sheringford's either – he was besotted with /me/ at the time. Oh, I wish in my heart I had never suggested that Randolph bring Gareth to London.

I might have /known/ he would be too jealous to make the idea work and that Laura would be too squeamish. And I might have /known/ that she would run to Lord Sheringford and that he would take her away and abandon me to /you/. Oh, do stop gaping in that ridiculous way, Norman, and come along, or Randolph will leave without us." And she went hurrying back along the avenue, all delicate, feminine little steps and flouncing muslin.

For once Norman was speechless. He looked at Duncan, his lips working soundlessly, and then went scurrying off after his wife. "/Dash/ it all," Merton said when he was out of earshot. "Neither one of them gave me enough excuse to break his nose. My knuckles will itch with frustration for a week." "A woman's way of doing things is never quite satisfactory to a man's way of thinking," Moreland said with a sigh. "I still prefer your original plan of pounding Turner to a bloody pulp, Sheringford, while Stephen and I tossed the dice over who would have the pleasure of breaking Pennethorne's nose. But Margaret's plan really was the better one. Turner has been thoroughly and permanently vanquished, and not a drop of blood shed. /Damnation/! Why could he not at least have taken a swing at you?" "At one point," Duncan said, "I really thought he was going to. Alas, he remembered his true nature in time. Maggie has made Toby safe, but I /wish/ her plan could have included just a small degree of violence. Or, even better, a whole lot of it." Moreland clapped a hand on his shoulder. "And talking of Margaret," he said, "I daresay she and Vanessa are having a very bad time of it, waiting to hear what happened out here." "Yes," Duncan said, closing his eyes briefly.

Was it really all over? As easily as this?

Could he now return to Maggie and to Toby and assure them that their life together as a family was secure at last?

Where were they? In the nursery?

He hurried off in the direction of home without even stopping to thank his brothers-in-law for offering such formidable moral support.

He was running by the time he had crossed the bridge.

The carriage, he could see when he reached the terrace, was already disappearing down the driveway.

He took the steps up to the front doors two at a time.

Margaret had not moved from the chair in the nursery where she sat with Toby. Vanessa was standing at the window looking out, but there was nothing of any significance to see. The nursery was in the west wing with a view over the stables and the west lawn.

Margaret imposed deliberate relaxation on her body so that her anxiety would not convey itself to Toby, even in sleep. But, oh, it was so difficult to wait.

Bullies were usually cowards. Perhaps extreme bullies were extreme cowards. She fervently hoped so. She had based her whole plan on the theory. She had talked Duncan and her brother and brother-in-law into following her plan – Nessie had needed no persuading.

What if she was wrong?

She /hoped/ the encounter would not turn violent. Men always found it easier to use their fists than to be rational. Perhaps it was as well that Caroline Pennethorne was with them. Perhaps her presence would force them all into talking rather than using their fists.

Her rational mind told her that Toby was safe, that her suggested plan of action was bound to work. But it was hard to trust cold reason when so much was at stake. Randolph Turner had the legal right to take Toby no matter who his real father was. And he had wanted a son desperately enough to concoct that ghastly scheme. Perhaps he did not care what people thought of him. Perhaps … The nursery door opened quietly. Even so, Toby stirred. He rubbed an eye with one fist, burrowed closer for a moment, and then turned his head to watch with sleepy eyes as Duncan approached.

It was hard to read his expression.

Vanessa turned from the window. "Papa," Toby said, "has the bad man gone?" Duncan's eyes met Margaret's briefly before he bent forward slightly and set a hand on the boy's head. "He is not really a bad man, Tobe," he said. "Just a rather annoying one. He is a cousin of mine and used to annoy me dreadfully when we were lads. He still does, but he is harmless. Yes, he has gone. I sent him away along with the two people who were with him. They will not be back – they will never be invited. You are perfectly safe here with Papa and Aunt Meg to look after you." "Not Aunt Meg," Toby said. "She is not my aunt. She is Mama. Where is Uncle Stephen? I want to ride on his shoulders, not just on his back. Do you think he will let me?" He threw back the blanket and climbed down off Margaret's lap, eager to resume his day.

Margaret swallowed a lump in her throat and looked across the room to see Vanessa smiling at her. She was officially /Mama/, it seemed. "I suppose," Duncan said, holding out a hand for Toby's, "we can go and ask. But why Uncle Stephen and not Papa?" "Because he is taller than you are, silly," Toby said, ignoring his hand and dashing for the door. "Ah, yes, quite so," Duncan said as Margaret got to her feet. "Silly of me to ask." He turned to Margaret, took one step toward her so that his body collided with hers, and kissed her hard on the lips. "/Nessie/ is here," she said, her face flushing.

He turned his head and grinned at Vanessa. "Turner chooses reputation over the acquisition of a son and heir," he said. "I /knew/ he would," Margaret cried. "And once he has publicly repudiated Toby and declared him to be your son, he cannot change his mind. Not that he ever would. He knows that Stephen and Elliott know and that soon Jasper and your grandfather will know. He knows that none of them would scruple to tell the truth if he should prove troublesome." "If only," he said, "Turner were one smidgen less of a coward than he is. He actually flexed his fists and looked belligerent for all of two seconds. I /willed/ him to throw a punch. Alas, he did not." "I daresay Elliott and Stephen were disappointed too," Vanessa said. "And I must confess that even I am – a little." "You could not have fought," Margaret said, "with Caroline Turner there." "Oh, Maggie," he said, "it was all her idea." "/What/ was?" she asked. "Using the half brother to get Turner his heir," he said. "It was /her/ idea." She wrapped her arms about his waist regardless of the presence of her sister in the room. "We might have guessed it," Vanessa said. "It is too clever and fiendish a scheme for a man to have dreamed up. I shall go and tell Elliott so merely for the pleasure of listening to his retort." She whisked herself out of the room, laughing. "And to think that you might have married that woman," Margaret said.

Duncan grinned. "Never in a million years," he said. "I was always quite safe from her, Maggie. Fate was saving me for a certain flying missile in a certain doorway in a certain ballroom." She kissed him on the lips. "We had better go down," she said, "and rescue my poor brother." But when they arrived at the head of the staircase, they could hear sounds of commotion coming from the hall below. Margaret's stomach turned over. Duncan released her arm and went charging downward ahead of her.

Had they returned?

Were they going to try to take Toby after all?

She came to an abrupt halt when she was still a few stairs above the hall. Duncan was down there already. So were Vanessa and Elliott and Stephen – with Toby astride his shoulders.

And so were Sir Graham and Lady Carling and the Marquess of Claverbrook. "Duncan, my love," Lady Carling was saying, "whatever has been happening? Is /this/ the child? He is perfectly adorable. Oh, just look at those curls, Graham! You utterly provoking man, Duncan, to have said nothing about him to your own mother. Graham has said that /of course/ you said nothing under the circumstances, but that is nonsense. I am his /grandmother/. There is the most dreadful gossip making the rounds in London, though, and Randolph Turner must have listened to it and even believed it, or he would not have come here to see for himself. And he /did/ come. We passed his carriage just the other side of the village, but he would not stop it when I waved to him or even look at us. Though he could not possibly have missed seeing us. How could he? He had other people with him too. I daresay it was Caroline and Norman, but they would not look at us either, and really they were quite pointed about it, were they not, Graham? They were not on their way to fetch a magistrate, were they? Oh, do tell me all, Duncan. No one ever tells me anything. It is most provoking." And she burst into tears.

Margaret hurried downward, but Sir Graham had already taken his wife in his arms, looking pained. "If you would just let Sheringford /talk/, Ethel," he suggested, "perhaps you would be put out of your suspense a little sooner." Toby, Margaret could see, was clutching fistfuls of Stephen's hair and was trying to duck down behind his head. His eyes were frightened again. "They were going back to London, I assume, Mama," Duncan said, "or to the devil for all I care. Meet Toby – Tobias Duncan Pennethorne, my son and Maggie's. I will tell you the whole story later, after you have rested and had some refreshments." "Grandpapa," Margaret said to the marquess, "let me take your arm." He was leaning heavily on his cane. He was looking fierce, but his complexion was gray-tinged with fatigue. "Hmmph," he said, and he looked at Toby with a ferocious frown.

Toby was making small wailing sounds, and Stephen's hands had gone up to hold him protectively by the waist.

The Marquess of Claverbook was feeling about in the pocket of his coat with his free hand. "What the deuce is this poking into my ribs and rubbing them raw?" he asked of no one in particular.

Toby's eyes were riveted upon him.

He pulled something out of the pocket and held it up between his thumb and forefinger. "A shilling," he said. "Deuced uncomfortable thing. Here, boy, you had better take it from me. Spend it wisely on some sweets." And he took a few steps closer and held it up to Toby, who hesitated for only a moment before releasing his hold on one clump of Stephen's hair and closing his hand about the coin. "Tobe?" Duncan said softly. "Thank you, sir," Toby said. "Can I buy sweets, Papa?" "Tomorrow," Duncan said.

Margaret took the old gentleman's arm and turned him in the direction of the stairs. "Come up to the drawing room," she said, including Sir Graham and Lady Carling in her invitation. "You will be ready for a drink before going to your rooms to change for dinner. Oh, how /very/ pleased I am that you came. I do hope you will stay for a good long while." "Hmmph," the marquess said. "I would give my kingdom for a cup of tea," Lady Carling said. "Not that I have a kingdom to give, of course, but I am parched. Oh, Margaret, do let the child come to the drawing room too. I do not care what Graham says about how inappropriate my raptures over him are. I am quite determined to know him and to love him and spoil him quite atrociously." "In all fairness, Ethel," Sir Graham said, "you must admit that I have not said a great deal on the subject yet. I have not been given the opportunity." Margaret glanced at Duncan, and they smiled at each other. "How many sweets will I be able to buy, Uncle Elliott?" Toby was asking. "Enough," he said, "to tempt your mama and your nurse to insist that they be kept on a very high shelf and doled out in small amounts over the next month or two. And we all know that /that/ is no way to enjoy sweets. If I were you, I would hide them away in a secret hiding place before they can get their hands on them, and pick away at them whenever you please." "Oh, Elliott!" Vanessa protested. "Meg will be forbidding us the house." Toby was shrieking with helpless giggles. His terror was forgotten, though it would, Margaret supposed, reappear in his nightmares for some time to come. They would deal with it, she and Duncan. Just as they would deal with the fact that he would forever be illegitimate and different from any brothers and sisters he might have.

And eventually he would learn to deal with life himself.

Life was never perfect.

Only love was.