Page 26 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess (Marriage Mart Scandals #3)

One Year Later

Society Shocked At Sentencing!

Dedicated readers of the Weekly Whisper will have followed with great eagerness the events of the Morendale Murders. All of England was shocked at the news that Lord Clayton Tidemore and his mother, Lady Thomasin Tidemore, had been arrested for attempted murder. In a twist worthy of Mrs. Radcliff, the murderous pair had in fact been slowly poisoning their cousin and nephew, none other than the Marquess of Morendale. Assisted by a physician, it is rumoured that the previous Lord Morendale’s death from a mysterious affliction was in fact due to this murderous pair.

However, this was not proven. It matters not, as the three accused were today found guilty of attempted murder and sent to a penal colony, after a delay of almost a year.

The Marquess survived and is said to be living a quiet and genteel life in the countryside, and he is said to have been blessed with the first Tidemore heir. He was unreachable for comment on this development.

This author promises faithfully to keep you, my dear readers, abreast of the latest development in the delightfully scandalous Morendale Murders!

Patrina rose to her feet, clapping loudly for silence.

“Come on, everybody! You’re going to scare the baby with all your chatter!”

It didn’t work. Sighing and rolling her eyes, Patrina walked away from the table, leaving her friends and relations to chatter on as they pleased.

It was a warm day, and so they’d set out the tables on the lawn. Over by a spreading oak tree, Cynthia had set out a picnic blanket, and Mr. Stilton sat beside her. Their courtship was very new, and generally not approved by Society, but Cynthia cared for him and he clearly adored her, so Neil had given his full approval.

Agnes and Gillian sat at the table, chattering eagerly with Emma, discussing something about Gillian’s Season.

The baby, the tiny, newborn creature they had all gathered to see, lay in a little crib on the patio, a watchful nurse nearby. Lord and Lady Marshville stood over the crib; arms wound around each other.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Patrina murmured. Her parents turned to face her, smiling. Lady Marshville held out an arm, and Patrina nestled against her.

“He is beautiful,” Lady Marshville agreed. “And Arthur is a fine name. You were lucky to be blessed with a healthy son, so soon after your marriage!”

“Luckier still for Neil’s health to improve so rapidly,” Lord Marshville rumbled. His wife shot him a pointed look.

Everybody in Society knew, of course, about the infamous Morendale Murders. There had only been one murder, and that one not quite provable, but somehow Morendale Murders was a little more intriguing.

They hadn’t gone back to London, and Patrina found that she did not miss it. There was more than enough here to keep her occupied. Her baby, for example.

Bending over the crib, Patrina smiled down at Baby Arthur. He beamed gummily up at her, waving his chubby arms around. She reached out, touching her fingertip to the imperfect little circle of his palm. He clung on, tiny fingers curling around her finger.

“He is beautiful,” Patrina repeated, allowing herself a smile. “Emma dotes on him, you know. She loves having a grandson. I’m not sure that Cynthia knows what to do with him, but she tries her best. And the birth was better than I expected. I think it’s because I had a very fine physician in attendance.”

“Oh? Mr. Stilton, I assume?” Lady Marshville asked, eyebrows lifting.

“No,” Patrina answered, grinning. “Miss Agatha Simms.”

“Miss Simms? But she isn’t a… she can’t be a physician.”

“Not at the moment,” Patrina shrugged. “But she ought to be. And in the future – well, who knows? Mr. Stilton has the sense to seek her advice on many of his cases.”

Lord and Lady Marshville exchanged glances.

“Well,” Lady Marshville said at last, “the world is changing. One never knows.”

Baby Arthur began to gurgle, his tone changing as if he were considering starting to wail. In a flash, Emma had left the table and headed towards the patio.

“Is he crying? He might be hungry, or perhaps cold?” Emma asked, seeming to be talking to herself more than anybody else.

“Not to worry,” Patrina laughed, laying a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “I’ll take him. We’re going to search for his papa, aren’t we, Arthur?”

She picked up her baby, and the grousing immediately stopped. Arthur beamed gummily again, pressing his damp little cheek against the side of Patrina’s neck.

“Indeed, where is the inestimable Lord Morendale?” Lord Marshville rumbled. “We haven’t seen him much.”

“Oh, settle down, dear,” Lady Marshville tutted, tapping him on the shoulder. “We only arrived yesterday. The Marquess of Morendale has a great deal of work to do.”

Patrina smiled. “He likes to go for walks a great deal. He… he wasn’t able to walk very far before, and constantly worried about collapsing and hurting himself, or else lying out on the cold ground for hours. Now, he can walk as freely as he likes. The novelty has not worn off, and I don’t think it will for a long time.”

There was a murmur of agreement at that. Pressing a kiss to her mother’s cheek and then her father’s, Patrina excused herself, stepping off the patio.

She had intended to take Baby Arthur to see his Papa, but Gillian and Agnes waylaid her on the way.

“May I hold him, Patrina, please ?” Gillian pleaded. “I like babies very much.”

“I like babies a little less,” Agnes scoffed, “But I do like my nephew a great deal.”

Patrina chuckled and handed Arthur off to two of his aunts. She had not had much time to spend with her sisters – they had all arrived only the previous evening – but that could wait. After all, her family was staying for at least two weeks, if not more. She would have as much time as she needed to recuperate and spend time with her beloved family.

They’ve changed a great deal. Gillian, especially. How odd that one single year can change one’s life beyond belief.

Kissing the top of Arthur’s soft little head, she moved on, taking a path which led through the little woodland surrounding the lawn. She passed by Cynthia and Mr. Stilton’s picnic blanket – neither of them seemed to notice her – and she plunged into the woods.

Almost immediately, she came across a neat little stone bench, set before an old water fountain, made in a Grecian style, still determinedly spurting water after countless decades.

A couple sat on the bench, arm in arm. The woman rested her head on the man’s shoulder, and he had his arm around her shoulders.

Patrina bit back a smile, and pointedly cleared her throat.

They both sprang apart – old habits tended to last, after all – and spun around, flushing red.

“Oh, it’s you,” Lucy gasped. “You gave me quite a start, your ladyship… that is, I mean, Patrina . It still feels so strange to call you by your name.”

“Well, you can’t be calling me your ladyship now that you’re married to my husband’s cousin,” Patrina laughed, shooting a wry smile at Harry. “I haven’t even had time to ask about the honeymoon.”

The couple smiled bashfully, still holding hands. The wedding had taken place only two weeks ago, after several months of courtship and a lengthy engagement. From what Patrina could understand, Society disapproved highly. Harry Westbrook might not exactly be a Tidemore , and he was a steward, but apparently, he ought to have married higher than a lady’s maid.

Patrina disagreed. She knew her old friend and knew her worth. Both Harry and Lucy deserved each other, and she was sure they would be happy.

“I hope you don’t mind us sneaking off,” Lucy said, “but it’s so strange, moving around your family and friends after I’ve always been a maid.”

“That shall pass, I’m sure of it,” Patrina promised. “But of course, take as much time as you need, just the two of you. I couldn’t be more happy for you both.”

They shot doting smiles at each other, and Patrina felt warmth spread through her chest.

“Although, I did mean to ask,” she added hurriedly, before they could drift off into each other’s eyes again, “have you seen Neil?”

“Oh, yes,” Harry said, tearing his gaze away from his new wife. “Just down the way, there. If you hurry, you’ll catch up to him.”

Patrina hid a smile. “Thank you. Now, I’ll leave you alone.”

She wasn’t entirely sure they even noticed when she walked away. When she glanced over her shoulder, Harry and Lucy were sitting down on the stone bench again, curled up like before, watching the fountain.

The path wound through the trees, and ducked down into a little dip, where there was a clearing. The clearing was thickly carpeted with fresh green grass, and wildflowers were poking their colourful heads experimentally out of the greenery.

In the centre of it all, Neil Tidemore, Marquess of Morendale, lay on his back, hands folded across his stomach, and stared up at the blue sky.

He lifted his head at the sound of her footsteps and broke into a smile.

“Hello, Pat. Come join me, won’t you?”

“I will, but just for a moment. My parents are asking where you are.”

She lay down on the grass beside him, shoulders brushing. A tingle ran down Patrina’s spine. It still shocked her that Neil was able to make her feel that way.

“I’m sorry to go off and leave you with them,” Neil said, after a moment, “I just had the urge to stretch my legs. It’s like an itch, you know. And for so long, I didn’t dare…” he trailed off, shaking his head, and reached for her hand. Patrina laced her fingers through his.

“I know. Nobody’s upset, of course. We have plenty of time. I just want Mama and Papa to really see how much you’ve changed. How strong you are, how firm.”

He sighed. “Sometimes I still feel so weak, you know?”

“That’s all right,” she rolled onto her side, resting her head on his chest. Neil lifted a hand to her hair and began absently running his fingers over it. “Sometimes I feel like a silly girl, with no more right to be a wife and a mother – and Lady Morendale – than anyone else. Reading that article in the Weekly Whisper gave me a start, too.”

Neil rested his chin on the top of her head. “I know. I read it in the Gazette yesterday. I should have known that Clayton would never make things easy. He’s dragged out the court case for all this time, and even now, when he’s finally been made to confess…” he trailed off. “It feels. They tried to kill me, and they did kill my father. Justice has been done, but the hurt remains.”

“I know, darling. But we can’t let it drag us back. We must look forward. We have Arthur now. We have a wedding coming up – all being well – and we have Lucy and Harry back again. Life seems good to me, Neil.”

He tilted up her chin, fingertips dancing over her skin, and Patrina could have sworn that her heart skipped a beat.

“My life is good, my love,” he murmured. “It changed the moment you came into it. I often can’t quite believe the luck I’ve had, marrying you. I love you, Patrina. I know I’ve said it a thousand times over the past year, but I believe I loved you since the moment I saw you.”

Patrina smiled, allowing herself to feel everything and anything, the emotions flowing through her like water.

“And I love you too,” she whispered, and then leaned up to kiss him.

The End