“I don’t understand,” she whined. “I just wanted to have parties and pretty clothes. What was so wrong about that?”
The question was more rhetorical that real, and the rest of the room’s occupants had heard it and variations on it so often in the last few weeks that it had ceased to have an impact on them.
Sister Agatha explained it best. “She is like a two-year-old trapped in a woman’s body. She has all the desires of a woman, but none of the wisdom that should have come from living. She sees a pretty bauble, and she wants it. It doesn’t matter what is between her and the object.”
The Sister had looked sad and troubled then. “I can slowly wean her off the laudanum, and Dr. Dermott and Dr. Young, his apprentice, can help her body heal. But there is really nothing we can do for her mind.”
Remembering the conversation, Jonathan sighed. Celeste, who was sitting beside him as was usual these days, asked, “Are you all right, Your Grace?”
“Just realizing that there are far too many things in the world that I cannot fix. I made a promise to Margery’s father that I would take care of her. But even if it were possible, I would not wed her now that I know her personality.”
“No,” said Celeste with some asperity, “I should think not. I cannot imagine anyone, even a doting father, expecting that after all that you have been through.”
“But I cannot help asking myself, what will become of her? I toured a madhouse once. Executing her would be a kindness by comparison.”
“Have you spoken with Mother Sarah or Parson Graves? Or even Father Jacob? Illnesses of the spirit are their province.”
“I have not. Perhaps I should. But I am not sure that even they can do more than pray for her at this point.”
Celeste said no more, but laid one slender hand over his. She found it very hard to garner any sympathy for the woman who had pretended to be married to Jonathan. Even though Warner had been the actual perpetrator of most of the planning and the deeds, Margery had willingly gone along with it.
Jonathan turned his hand over, and wrapped his long fingers around hers. “I can forgive her on the grounds that she was the instrument of allowing me to meet you.”
He might have said more, but just then a large number of people began to crowd into the Solar. Sister Agatha, Father Jacob, Mother Sarah and Sally Ann came in together. They were followed shortly by Miss Sedgewick, Mr. Hammonds, Jill, and David Hammonds. Finally, Constable McHenry and Mr. Smith came in.
When everyone was seated, the Inspector rose. “Your Grace, with your permission, I would like to fulfill a promise made several days ago. That was to tell the story of Roddy the Rude. Some of it somewhat impugns the late Duke, so if you would like this room cleared, I would completely understand it.
Jonathan waved the suggestion away. “Everyone here has pieces of the story. We might as well put it together into a complete narration. These are my most trusted advisors, with the exception of Margery. But I believe that she, too, deserves to know.”
“Very well,” Inspector Ravensgard cleared his throat. “Mrs. Whitehurst, who was then Miss McWhitley, was a maid in this very house thirty-five years ago. The late Duke, being between Duchesses, had begun to feel the pressures of certain personal needs. At this point I will turn the tale over to Miss Sedgewick.”
“It was really a bit embarrassing. He quietly went from one maid to another, asking us to his bed. I was only a cook’s helper then, but I told him ‘no’ and he respected my response. That is why I know that Miss McWhitley, who had been chamber maid to the first Late Duchess, could have refused the late Duke’s advances and been none the worse for it.”
Celeste clutched Jonathan’s hand a little tighter. “Was it easy to refuse him?”
“Easy? That didn’t really come into it. He was handsome enough, our current Duke looks a great deal like his father, but he was far above my station and I knew he was not offering marriage. I’d seen it before, at other houses, and even in the Duke’s household. I had no desire to have a baby only to have to give it up.
“But McWhitley said yes. When she got in the family way, he turned her off without a reference and without a penny.”
Celeste gasped, and turned wide hazel eyes on the Duke. “Don’t worry,” he said softly.
“Now,” said Mr. Smith, “I have the next part of the tale. Miss McWhitley was taken in by an abbess in Convent Garden. The abbess was taken with little Roddy, so when Miss McWhitley had the opportunity to become Miss Whitehurst, she kept the baby boy. The lad ran errands for her when he was old enough and did other small chores. But the abbess became angry when she learned that little Roddy was old enough to be sampling the wares. That would have been unacceptable, but worse than that, sometimes Roddy liked to play rough. That was how he earned the title Roddy the Rude.”
“He was never rough with me,” Margery burst out. “Never. He loves me.”
Inspector Ravensgard looked at Margery with an expression of pity on his face. “I believe that is actually true, which makes this story all the more bizarre. The next phase of Roddy’s existence was a troupe of traveling players. Roddy learned how to do escapes, to use ventriloquism, and he received his first lessons in mixing drugs there. He enjoyed that, and had the good fortune to be apprenticed to an apothecary who’s shop was in Edinburgh. That was where he met Margery.”
“He was so handsome,” Margery volunteered. “And he brought me little samples that made me feel so much better. I didn’t want to cry all the time, or throw things at people. Then he did other things that made me feel so good. So we ran away and got married at a little church at the foot of the mountain.
“But my mean old father wouldn’t let me be married. He snatched me up and took me to Mabway Castle where it was always cold and he was always angry. I burned it down, you know,” she said confidingly. “There wasn’t anyone important in it, so I left a lighted candle next to the drapes. It was so pretty when it burned.” Her face was rapturous.
“Everyone made it out alive, including Mrs. Whitehurst who was working in the laundry,” Jonathan said. “I don’t know if Margery knew that she was there, or if it would have mattered.”
Jonathan took up the tale at this point. “I was of an age to be married, and Margery was only a year or two younger. Our fathers thought it would be ideal. I had no idea that someone had a prior claim.”
“Roddy wanted to be a Duke. He knew that Jonathan was his younger half-brother. It isn’t fair you know, that Jonathan has so much and he doesn’t even know how to enjoy it.” Margery pouted a little.
Jonathan rolled his eyes at that, but didn’t say anything.
