Page 24 of Lady Maybe

James Lowden was disappointed he’d been unable to find irrefutable proof that Marianna Spencer Mayfield still lived. But with the newspaper article, his friend’s report, and continuing rumors hanging over his client’s head, he could not dismiss the possibility—or the gut feeling—that she was alive. Nor could he dismiss the second part of his mission: to begin gathering evidence toward divorce. He hated everything about that assignment.

He went to London to begin his undertaking. There, he heard the rumor that Fontaine had become engaged to an heiress, but found little evidence about him and Marianna. He went to Fontaine’s last known London lodgings, and there learned from the landlord that Mr. Fontaine had given up his rooms and returned to his home in Bristol. So James sent a brief report to Sir John and then returned to Bristol to continue his inquiries there.

He began by calling on their friends and neighbors. And while gossip and innuendo abounded, he found little solid evidence and no one, beyond his friend, willing to testify that he or she had seen Marianna alive, or seen her and Fontaine together in a compromising situation.

This left James feeling both frustrated and relieved.

He received a note at his office from Sir John, urging him to continue the search and letting him know he had returned to Bristol alone. At that news, James felt more relieved yet.

The day of the hearing arrived. At the appointed time, Mrs. Turrill took Danny and Becky home with her to the cottage she shared with her sister. Mrs. Turrill had thought Hannah should take Daniel along to the hearing, to show the precious lad that had motivated the deception in the first place. What better justification could there be?

“The baby will rouse sympathy for your cause, my dear,” she’d said.

But Hannah feared Danny might somehow be taken from her, seized right there during the hearing and sent to a foundling home, never to be seen again, so she refused to risk it.

Hannah rode in the back of the doctor’s cart, driven by Dr. Parrish with his wife beside him. Edgar and Lady Mayfield rode in a gig behind them, probably to guarantee she didn’t jump off the cart and run away. As if she would go anywhere without her son. At the thought, Hannah shivered from more than the damp morning air biting through her shawl. God, please protect Danny.

A short while later, the vehicles passed through the gate of Lord Shirwell’s estate and around to the back of the manor where grooms and stable boys hurried out to help with the horses. Hannah followed Edgar to an impressive library, which Lord Shirwell evidently used as an office to conduct parish business and his magisterial duties.

Inside the room, a man in his mid-fifties sat behind a wide mahogany desk. A younger, bespectacled clerk occupied a smaller desk nearby.

Two chairs had been set before the desk in a prominent position. In one sat Hannah, the accused. In the other, Lady Mayfield, her primary accuser. Additional chairs lined the side wall for those waiting to be heard.

Seated beside Marianna, Hannah was again reminded of the two women they had seen sitting side by side in the village stocks. A tremor of premonition passed over her.

Lord Shirwell was stout and had thinning hair. Good-looking in his day, Hannah guessed, though showing signs of dissipation. His gaze roved the room. “And where is Sir John Mayfield? He ought to be present to witness this hearing and to give evidence.”

Lady Mayfield spoke up. “Word has been sent, your worship. But we don’t know how long it will be until my husband can return from Bristol. He is an invalid, you see, and cannot easily travel such a distance.”

Had word been sent? Hannah wondered. By whom? Would the post have even reached him by now? She doubted it.

Lord Shirwell frowned. “Then what is the hurry in holding this hearing? The next assizes is not for several weeks.”

“Why, your worship.” Marianna blinked innocently, pressing a hand to her mounded bosom. She was wearing one of the gowns formerly in Hannah’s possession, now taken back out to fit her. “We only want to see justice done. We fear if there is a delay, the guilty party might very well abscond before then.”

“The accused , my lady,” Lord Shirwell said. “She has yet to be proven guilty.”

“Of course, your worship. Forgive me, I misspoke.” Marianna favored him with one of her winning smiles and the man’s cold gaze warmed appreciably. Hannah knew it did not bode well for her.

The magistrate cleared his throat. “So that all in attendance are clear, let me summarize what will happen here today. This is not a trial, per se. I will hear the evidence against this person. If I am satisfied there is a case to answer, I will then determine if there is sufficient evidence to commit the accused to prison to await trial at the assizes.”

Prison ... Hannah shuddered at the word.

He turned toward Marianna. “Perhaps, Lady Mayfield, as the bringer of these charges, you might begin.”

Marianna dipped her pretty head in acknowledgement. “Very well, your worship.” She took a deep breath, causing her bosom to swell.

Hannah guessed the act had been intentional.

“As you may know, my husband and I, Sir John Mayfield, made it our intention to move to this lovely county a few months ago. He owns a house near the best neighbors anyone could ask for in the Parrishes.” She smiled at Dr. and Mrs. Parrish. Mrs. Parrish smiled in return, while Dr. Parrish stared blindly ahead.

Marianna continued, “Once arrangements were made, Sir John returned to Bath to collect me. Our servants had no wish to relocate, and we relished the notion of hiring knowledgeable local people when we arrived.”

Lies , Hannah thought. Marianna had been vexed not to be able to bring her own servants. Hannah knew pointing it out, however, would not help her case.

“But just as we were preparing to leave Bath, this person, Miss Hannah Rogers, appeared at our door. She had left our employ about half a year before, without notice or explanation. Of course, now we know she left as her condition began to show—left to have a child in secret.” Marianna lowered her voice and managed to look properly shocked. “And her not married. But I am getting ahead of myself.” She pulled a handkerchief from her reticule before continuing. “When Miss Rogers came to me, she made no mention of a child. She said only that she was in dire need of a post. I consulted my husband, and we agreed. Although not our preference, we could not in Christian charity turn our back on a former member of our staff in need.”

Hannah squeezed the arms of her chair. More lies...

“So, Miss Rogers traveled with us in our chariot from Somerset to Devon, leaving her infant behind. Though had we known she was abandoning her child, we never would have agreed to take her with us.”

Indignation shot through Hannah. “I was not abandoning him—”

“Silence, Miss Rogers,” Lord Shirwell commanded. “You will have your chance to speak soon enough.” He returned his gaze to Marianna. “Go on, my lady.”

“Thank you, your worship.” She smiled wanly. “Now, you have likely heard of the terrible accident that befell us, when our carriage slipped from the road, over the cliff, and partway into the sea. And the unfortunate loss of the young driver. A loss I did not hear about until recently and which grieves me still to think of it...” Here she dabbed dry eyes with her lace handkerchief.

Hannah was surprised Marianna had not tried to blame her for the accident and the poor man’s death as well.

Marianna continued, “I don’t know exactly what happened immediately after the crash, for I believe I lost sensibility. I seem to remember Miss Rogers pulling my ring from my finger, but she says she grabbed my hand as the tide pulled me through a hole in the carriage and somehow the ring came off in her hand. Of course, she also claims to have lost all sensibility after the accident, so who can say how my valuable ring ended up in her possession? I believe I floated on a piece of wreckage, part of the broken carriage perhaps. By the time I awoke, I was a great distance away and quite disoriented. I must have sustained a near-fatal blow to my head, for I could no more remember my name than how I came to be floating in the Bristol Channel. Thankfully, God sent his angels in the form of fishermen. The men hauled me into their boat and revived me. They delivered me to the next port, in Wales, and left me with a kindly inn keeper there. I stayed with her for some time, having no inkling of who I was. Eventually the good woman realized that with my gown, tattered as it was, and my speech and bearing, I was a person of education and breeding. She suggested I travel to London and see if anyone there might recognize me and help me learn my true identity. It was very frightening, traveling by stage, all alone, not knowing where I was going and what I might find awaiting me....”

Everyone hung on her words, Hannah saw. What a gothic storyteller she was. Had she rehearsed this, or was she making it up as she went along?

“In London, I began to have flashes of memory,” Marianna went on. “Then I happened into a man, a friend of Sir John’s solicitor, as it turns out, who recognized me. You cannot know what a relief it was to hear my own name and have it all come back. To remember my beloved husband and the life we had planned together here in Devonshire. As soon as I was able, I made plans to return to him.”

She even managed to explain the sighting of her in London, Hannah realized with mounting dread.

“Imagine my devastation when I arrived at Clifton House, hoping to be reunited with my dear husband, and the housekeeper informed me Sir John had left for Bristol, but I might see ‘Lady Mayfield’ if I liked. In came Hannah into my drawing room, as snug and smug as any duchess or Drury Lane actress—even wearing one of my gowns, made over to fit her. My former companion, posing as me, mistress of the place and Sir John’s wife. Imagine my shock.”

Lord Shirwell grimly shook his head, not taking his eyes from Marianna.

She continued, “I understand that initially Dr. Parrish simply assumed Hannah was Lady Mayfield, when he discovered her and Sir John alone in the ruined carriage. How could he have known I had been the one to drift out to sea? A natural mistake. But later, when Hannah regained her senses, did she correct him? Admit she was only poor Miss Rogers, lady’s companion? No. Instead she allowed them to go on believing her to be Sir John’s wife.”

Again, she dabbed dry eyes. “Poor Sir John was still insensible and unable to correct their misapprehension. I don’t know how she planned to get away with it. Perhaps she thought if Sir John died and I was dead as assumed, then she might inherit a great deal of money, or at least my widow’s jointure. Not only did she allow the staff and good-hearted, trusting neighbors to believe she was me, but to compound her fraud, she returned to Bath, collected her illegitimate son, and brought him back with her, along with his nurse. She allowed everyone to believe he was Sir John and Lady Mayfield’s son—and heir, mind you. What audacity. What cunning. I don’t know why Sir John did not call her out when he awoke. I can only surmise that his head injury had rendered his memory or mental capacities impaired. She must have preyed on his weak mind.”

Hannah, remembering the magistrate’s warning, barely held her tongue.

Marianna continued, “When I confronted Miss Rogers, she said she would simply leave. Hoping to avoid charges, no doubt, and who knew how much of my husband’s money or possessions she planned to take with her? Again, this is why I felt it my duty to pursue this matter immediately, even in my husband’s absence.”

“Very understandable, my lady. Very wise,” Lord Shirwell said. “Now, if you have said all you like, I would like to hear from Dr. Parrish.”

She smiled coyly. “Thank you, your worship. I have.” She made to rise, but the magistrate gestured for her to remain where she was. “No need. Dr. Parrish can answer from where he sits.”

He turned to the physician. “Please tell us how you came to meet this woman.” He lifted a lazy hand toward Hannah.

“Yes, my lor—your worship.” In halting fashion, quite unlike his usual loquacious style, Dr. Parrish told of the leasing of Clifton House, which his son managed. He then went on to describe the runaway horses, which led him and Edgar to search for a stranded coach. He described the tracks in the mud, looking over the cliff at the horrid sight of a carriage broken wide like a raw egg on the rocks, and the tangle of bodies within. His amazement at finding the two occupants alive, though Sir John but barely. He never gave a second thought that the woman must be Lady Mayfield, cradling Sir John’s head in her lap. She certainly looked and dressed as a lady, although injured and insensible.

At this point Mrs. Parrish snorted loudly enough for all to hear. “I told you she was no lady.”

Lord Shirwell ignored this aside, while Dr. Parrish colored and continued as though he had not heard his vulgar spouse.

“My son Edgar spotted a figure floating out to sea. At least what he said looked like a person wearing red. I own my long-distance vision isn’t what it should be. We asked Lady—that is, Miss Rogers—if she had brought a servant with her. She could not speak, but laid a hand on her heart and nodded. I thought she meant the servant was her own personal maid, or dear to her heart, something like that. Not that she herself was the servant, or companion, herself.

“After we managed to remove them to the house, she was insensible for some time. And she remained quite muddled even after she awoke, muttering and fretting about someone named Danny, who I learned later was her child. I, of course, addressed her as ‘my lady,’ as did Mrs. Turrill, the housekeeper we’d engaged on the Mayfields’ behalf. Looking back, I recall how this distressed her, how she knit her brow and seemed confused by it. I assumed it was the shock of the accident and her injuries. You see how determined I was to view her as the woman I presumed her to be. In all honesty, my lord, I blame myself for the misunderstanding. For she never tried to convince me she was Lady Mayfield. I did that all by myself.”

Lord Shirwell pursed his lips. “Come, Doctor. Even if she was confused for a few days, surely she could have corrected the ‘misunderstanding,’ as you call it, as soon as she came to her senses. Did she?”

He reddened again. “No, my lord. Um ... your worship. Not directly. Though she did try more than once to tell me. I see that now.”

“What a memory you have, Dr. Parrish.” Marianna smiled at the man. “It speaks so highly of your character that you assume the best of everyone.”

“It is one thing for her to allow the misapprehension to go on briefly while she got her bearings,” Lord Shirwell said. “But to press you into aiding her cause—to return to Bath for her child? Surely you don’t excuse that as well? Did she not ask you to hire a carriage for her, and even steal money from Sir John’s purse to pay for the trip?”

Heaven help me , Hannah thought. Who told him that, in those terms? She would hang for sure. Or at least be sent to prison. What would become of Danny then?

Dr. Parrish shot a glare at his wife, then continued, “No, my lord. I offered to hire the carriage. She never asked for it. She intended to go on her own, by stage. But I insisted. I knew—or thought—Sir John would want it that way.”

“Surely Sir John did not offer Miss Rogers his money, considering he was insensible?”

“No, your worship. Again, that was my idea. I knew she would need money for the inns and tolls, and when I asked her if she had enough, she said she hadn’t. I had removed Sir John’s purse from his pocket myself and knew right where it was, and that it was heavy indeed. I took from it the amount I thought she would need and gave it to her. She has never asked for more, nor was a farthing more missing from Sir John’s purse when he came to at last and had opportunity to look within.”

“How you defend her, Dr. Parrish,” Marianna said sweetly. “It seems you have grown quite fond of her.”

The physician blushed furiously, but whether from embarrassment or anger or both, Hannah wasn’t sure. He had never treated her with anything but the most proper consideration. Marianna had clearly recognized the strain between the good doctor and his cantankerous wife and decided to use it to her advantage. How brazen she was to interrupt the proceedings as though it were a conversation in her own drawing room. Yet the magistrate did not object. Instead, he gazed at her benignly.

“My ... your ladyship,” Dr. Parrish faltered. “You misunderstand me. But I do believe Miss Rogers is a good woman who acted out of concern for her child’s well-being. I cannot stand by and see her so maligned.”

Lord Shirwell straightened. “Did she or did she not impersonate Lady Mayfield?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Did she or did she not pass off her son as Master Mayfield?”

“I suppose so, although—”

“Did she or did she not take advantage of the situation to help herself to Sir John’s money, his house, his food, his wife’s very clothing?” Lord Shirwell’s eyes blazed.

Dr. Parrish ducked his head, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Yes, my lord.”

“And what possible excuse did she give for not bringing the child with them in the first place?”

“Actually”—he darted a look at his wife—“Mrs. Parrish supplied that reason. She said they must have left the child with his nurse, until they could prepare a proper nursery at Clifton.”

Mrs. Parrish huffed. “I never said any such thing.”

“Yes, you did, my dear. Perhaps you forget. And we both decided it was a godsend, for had the little boy been in that carriage—”

“But of course he wouldn’t have been, for he wasn’t any child of ours, was he?” Marianna interrupted. “He was only an illegitimate whelp Hannah decided to pass off as a Mayfield. For the inheritance.”

Dr. Parrish shook his head. “I can’t believe she ever thought of that. I think she only wanted to be reunited with her son and to provide for him.”

Marianna’s mouth twisted bitterly. “And what better way than to make him a rich man’s heir?”

Lord Shirwell spoke up. “Em ... thank you, my lady, but perhaps it is best if I conduct the hearing, hm?”

“Oh. Yes, your worship. I do beg your pardon. It just rouses my passion most fiercely to think of her greedy deception.”

“Hear, hear,” Mrs. Parrish seconded.

Dr. Parrish said, “One more thing, if I may. When Sir John did regain his senses, and was presented with, um, Miss Rogers here as Lady Mayfield, he did not object. Nor did he correct me. In fact, he addressed her as his wife and, well, acted toward her as a husband would.”

The magistrate’s brows rose. “Are you suggesting they had marital relations?”

Again, the physician blushed. “No, my lord. I suggest no such thing. I only meant that he spoke to her and teased her as a husband might. He gave me no reason to suspect Miss Rogers was not Lady Mayfield. Even invited us to dinner, him at the head of the table and her at its foot. Why would he do that?”

Lord Shirwell entwined his stubby fingers on the desk. “You said he suffered a serious head injury in the accident and nearly died. Is it not possible his senses were still addled as Lady Mayfield suggests? That he has yet to, may never in fact, return to his right mind?”

“Pardon me for saying so, my lord, but that seems an awful presumption to make based on one woman’s accusations. When he isn’t even here to defend his actions.”

“Dr. Parrish.” The magistrate’s eyes grew cold, his voice harsh. “Do I tell you how to dress wounds and lance boils? You will do well to leave my responsibilities to me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, my lord. Still, I must add that in my professional opinion, Sir John did regain his senses, not immediately, but eventually.”

Lord Shirwell’s lips tightened. “Thank you, Dr. Parrish. For your opinion. Well...” The magistrate set down his quill and folded his hands, as though he’d heard enough to pronounce her fate.

“I’d like to say my piece, if I may, your worship,” said Mrs. Parrish.

Oh, Lord, have mercy. Not her , Hannah thought.

Before the magistrate could respond, Marianna beamed encouragement in her direction. “Oh, yes, Mrs. Parrish, I am certain you have a great deal to say on the matter, having witnessed so many of the happenings personally.” Marianna widened her eyes imploringly toward Lord Shirwell. “But of course, the decision is up to you, your worship.”

“Very well. But do endeavor to be brief, Mrs. Parrish, if you please.”

“I will, my lord. I only wanted to say a few words. My husband, you see, is a good-hearted soul, but blind to the ways of people. Women especially. I may have been taken in for a day or two, while Miss Rogers was still insensible. But as soon as she started babbling about a child and not responding to the title ‘my lady,’ I began to suspect. She acted too common, too humble, to be a real lady of quality. And then later I took one look at that scrawny, troubled mite of a wet nurse she returned with and knew something was amiss. No self-respecting lady would engage such a low girl for the care of her prized son, not if she could help it.”

Mrs. Parrish went on, “And then Sir John’s solicitor arrived. A younger man and quite good-looking. He’d come to make some changes to the will, I overheard. Perhaps to add her son as beneficiary, I don’t know. But I wonder if he was in league with her all along.”

“That’s not true,” Hannah sputtered, before the magistrate silenced her with a glare.

“Can you deny that I saw the two of you all alone in the garden one morning, very cozy and private-like? And him not the first man I saw you with either.”

Hannah shook her head. “No, but we were only talking. It had nothing to do with the will.”

“So you say. You weren’t behaving like any lady then, I can tell you. I don’t know why Sir John didn’t call you out like the Jezebel you are. Maybe he wasn’t in his right mind, or maybe you promised him some ... reward ... if he let the deception go on.”

Hannah sucked in a shocked breath. “I did no such thing.”

“Silence, Miss Rogers,” Lord Shirwell commanded. “You will have your chance to try to defend yourself in a minute.”

Hannah pressed her lips together and clasped trembling hands in her lap.

Mrs. Parrish smirked. “I noticed the solicitor did not like her at first. Was quite cold to her, in fact. But she soon had him eating out of her hand. Likely used the same wiles on both men.”

Lord Shirwell made a note in his book and then looked up, quill poised. “Did Sir John not deny the child was his?”

“I couldn’t say, my lord. Though my husband mentioned to me that Sir John said he saw no resemblance between himself and the boy.”

Dr. Parrish hung his head.

“Of course not,” Lord Shirwell replied. “Thank you, Mrs. Parrish.”

The magistrate stood and called for a short recess, then departed the room. The clerk rose to stretch his legs and quietly thanked Dr. Parrish for the safe delivery of a niece. Marianna complimented Mrs. Parrish on her testimony and the two women chatted as though at a cheerful charity tea, and not the worst day of Hannah’s life.

After a few more days of fruitless inquiry, James had landed upon an idea. Out of curiosity, he looked in the files to find Marianna’s address before her marriage—the former home of Mr. Sydney Spencer, her father, who had died a year or two before. The street wasn’t far, so James decided to walk there, though the day was grey and wet.

Reaching the place, he had to leap out of the way as a coach-and-four pulled into the curved drive. He watched as a footman scurried out with an umbrella, let down the step, and escorted a gentleman inside—the new owner of the place, James assumed. When the passenger had alighted, the coachman drove the horses around back toward the carriage house. It was probably futile, but James followed the coach. If society people were unwilling to speak against one of their own, perhaps a servant would have no such scruples.

James followed as far as the large double doors and from the threshold hailed the coachman as he hopped down from his bench. “Ho there! Nasty weather to be out driving in.”

The coachman eyed him warily. “I’m used to it.”

A groom and stable boy came and took charge of the horses.

James squinted through the drizzle at the dark manor. “Is this the old Spencer house?”

“Aye. Though it’s gone to a distant relation now. Kirby-Horner’s ’is name.”

“I see. Did you know Mr. Spencer?”

“That I did. I was his coachman for five years before he died. Mr. Kirby-Horner was kind enough to keep me on.” The coachman walked around the vehicle, inspecting the body and wheels for any damage.

“And how was Mr. Spencer to work for?”

The man wrinkled up his face. “Don’t get me started. Ain’t polite to speak ill of the dead.”

“Very well. And did you know his daughter, Marianna?”

Again his face puckered. “Look, who’s askin’? What’s it to you?”

“My name is James Lowden. I am a solicitor.” He handed over his card.

The man glanced at the card but made no move to take it. “So?”

“I represent my client, Sir John Mayfield.”

The man’s eyebrows rose. “Sir John, is it? Well, why didn’t you say so? Sir John I know. I was groom to him years ago. It was him what got me this post here. Knew I wanted to be a coachman, but he already had a capable man, see? Right decent of him it was too. Though he was the better master ten times over, I don’t mind tellin’ ya.”

The coachman belatedly stuck out his hand. “Tim Banks.”

James shook the man’s hand and said, “Then perhaps, Mr. Banks, you might help Sir John by helping me. I am looking into a rather delicate matter related to Lady Mayfield.”

“What’s she gone and done now?”

James hesitated. “You know then, that Sir John married Marianna Spencer?”

“’Course I do. Dashed sorry I was to hear it too.”

“And why is that?”

He glanced about to make sure the groom and stable hand were otherwise occupied. “Come now, man. You can’t have your offices in Bristol and not have heard the old rumors about her and Anthony Fontaine.”

“I have heard. Sir John is also painfully aware. But all I have are gossip and innuendo and no real evidence. Sir John’s coachman won’t say where he took her or whom she met. And I have yet to find an innkeeper who can prove the two stayed together in his establishment. I need evidence. Something I can show in a trial. Now, I don’t know that Sir John will accuse Mr. Fontaine in court, so please don’t mention it. He is considering it, that I will say.” James shrugged. “But without evidence...”

The coachman frowned. “So she’s still involved with Fontaine? After all this time?”

“She has been, yes. At least we believe so.”

“Thunder and turf. What a couple of scapegraces.”

“Yes. So it seems.”

Banks pursed his lips, looking up as he considered, then took a long breath. “I can do you one better than an innkeeper, friend.”

“Oh?”

“Aye. I’m off duty in half an hour. Meet me at the Red Lion and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“Very well. Though I hope it is more than mere hearsay.”

“Hearsay?” Banks shook his head. “I was there, wasn’t I? A gen-u-ine eyewitness. Buy me a pint and I’ll tell you a tale to make your ears burn.”