Page 42 of The Book of Lost Stories

True Bliss

Dear Cousin,

I am writing to you post-haste, having just received news from a friend in Town that the most disturbing rumour is circulating that you are the author of several infamous novels under the name of Orlando Browne! Of course, this is quite ridiculous, and I wrote back straight away to refute it.

I do not know how such vile and pernicious rumours get about (my dear Charlotte tells me that they are novels such as no lady of delicate sensibilities would be found reading), but I felt I must warn you that steps should be taken immediately to deny them.

I will write at more length later – indeed, I would have come to London myself, had not Charlotte’s confinement been imminent, but thought to put you on your guard.

Yours in haste,

James Basset

*

‘There has been no sign of Nat? Do you think he died in the conflagration, together with Chase, even though his body was not discovered?’ Titus Hartwood asked. He seemed to have aged several years since he learned what his nephew had done.

‘He may have done so,’ replied Lord Rayven, ‘but it is my belief that he managed to slip away, and has taken ship under another name, perhaps for America. He must know that information has been laid against him, so that he will be imprisoned should he ever return.’

Titus sighed heavily. ‘I did not think him capable of such evil. And Bella, too!’

‘Bella is nothing but a silly young girl, blinded by adoration of her brother into helping him. She did not know what he intended.’

‘Well, I suppose that is something. I have sent her to the country with her mother until the rumours die down.’

‘Miss Weston intends to stay with Mrs Rivers as long as she is needed.’

‘How is she taking her husband’s death?’

‘She is bearing up remarkably well,’ he said drily. ‘That he heroically died trying to protect Miss Weston was, of course, a great solace to her.’ He might have added that the attentions of his friend Stavely had also proved invaluable in keeping up her spirits.

‘Alys has not been to see me since the tragedy,’ Mr Hartwood remarked.

‘She was not sure whether you would wish to see her, since she thought you might in part blame her for it.’

‘How can I blame her for her cousin’s infamy?’

‘Then I will tell her to come, sir. Indeed, I hope when she does it will be as my intended bride, if you will give us your blessing?’

‘I might give it, but will she marry you? My granddaughter has the strangest notions of any woman I have ever met.’

‘She will, on conditions, which we are still engaged in discussing. A sort of treaty, drawn up by two opposing forces, so that they may dwell alongside in reasonable harmony.’

‘It does not sound like any sort of matrimony I would favour,’ Hartwood said dubiously.

‘I always enjoyed a good fight,’ Rayven said calmly. ‘It is just as well I am battle-hardened. By the way, she knows about the Order, too.’

He frowned: ‘You told her?’

‘No, your brother told Nat. He has always known and resented the fact that you did not trust him with the secret, and he told Alys when he had her captive. I believe, sir, that you must admit that she should be allowed to represent the Hartwoods in the Order, for she is twice the man of most of the other members.’

‘I will give it my consideration. You are either brave or foolhardy to wish to wed her, but you have my blessing. Indeed, I would prefer the wedding to be very soon, before you recover your senses!’

*

‘I think it is I who need to recover my senses,’ Alys remarked, when Rayven described this conversation.

‘If I must marry, against all my principles, why did I accept a man who is clearly of a tyrannical and overbearing disposition, so used to command that he will think he is entitled to order me about as he pleases?’

Since she was seated on the sofa beside him with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her, he did not fear that she would immediately break their engagement.

‘I am butter in your hands, Alys. You know you will not lose a jot of this freedom you value so much, and you will gain the run of my cellars, although I would object if you took up permanent residence down there.’

‘That is quite true,’ she said, her face lighting up. ‘And I have had such experiences of late as must lend considerable verisimilitude to my novels.’

She raised her head from his shoulder and fixed a pair of great, sparkling grey eyes on him in a way he found impossible to resist. ‘I suppose, too, that as a married woman I could see the Roman sewers, if you could arrange it, could I not? I had thought of setting my next novel in London and having my heroine escape through them, and it would be invaluable to actually see them.’

‘It shall be the highlight of our honeymoon,’ he promised, and she returned his embrace with the fervour of true bliss.