The Bride Wore Scandal. Helen Dickson
of his irritation, he said, ‘Forgive me, Christina. I’m in one hell of a tangle and I’m damned if I know what to do about it.’
‘You haven’t been gambling again, have you—and lost? Oh, William, I hope not.’
‘No, of course I haven’t. It’s worse than that.’
‘Tell me.’
‘We have an extra guest tonight—Lord Rockley. What is more, he is to stay the night.’
‘Lord Rockley? I don’t believe I’ve heard of him. Who is he?’
‘Trouble, Christina. The worst. Hell and damnation!’ William exclaimed angrily, pushing his fair hair from his forehead in frustration. ‘Why does he have to come tonight—just when things are going well?’
‘Then why did you invite him?’
William looked at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses. ‘Invite him?’ he burst out. ‘I didn’t invite him. Rockley invited himself. I was at Middleton Lodge to take a look at Sir Gilbert Rosing’s recently acquired stallion when he just turned up. When Gilbert mentioned that he was coming here tonight, in a calm and disarming way Rockley told me he was new to the district, and that because of the increasing assaults on travellers, which is causing the Lord Lieutenant a great deal of concern, he has been appointed to the area to curb the illegal activities of the highway robbers who persist in evading the law. What better place to start, he said, than by getting to know the local gentry at a gathering here at Oakbridge—if I didn’t mind him trespassing on my hospitality.’
Christina was shocked. ‘Oh! What did you say?’
‘What could I say other than that I would be honoured to have him as a guest and to stay the night, since he is residing with his brother five miles away—too far from him to travel back late at night.’
Despite the fear beginning to quake through her, Christina managed to sound calm. ‘But—this is terrible news. Do you think he suspects what goes on here at Oakbridge?’
‘I don’t think so—at least, I hope not. I have no idea what is in his head—what he expects to find.’ He shook his head in exasperation. ‘I’m no good at all this subterfuge, Christina, no good at all.’
‘I’m glad you’re not.’
‘I’m sure I must have guilt written all over me.’
‘No, you have not and you must try to stay calm,’ Christina said soothingly. ‘What is he like—this Lord Rockley?’
‘A cool one, I can tell you—a retired military man—with a reputation to instil fear into the stoutest heart.’
‘Even Mark Bucklow’s?’ she asked quietly, hoping and wishing this would be so.
‘As to that, we shall have to wait and see. To his enemies, Rockley is the most hated and feared of all Marlborough’s commanders. They believe he is a monster, a barbarian, more evil than the Devil himself—and more dangerous, for whereas the Devil is a spirit, Rockley is flesh and blood.’
Suddenly the atmosphere was filled with gruesome predictions of violence and death; Christina stared at her brother in mute horror, for surely no man could be as bad as that, and hoped that what William said was pure hysteria passed on by word of mouth from Lord Rockley’s enemies. But despite her doubts, at that moment a bank of cloud passed over the house and darkened the room. A cold shiver ran down her spine, as if nature herself brooded at the mention of such evil.
‘Dear me, this Lord Rockley sounds quite fearsome. And this is the man who is to stay at Oakbridge?’
William nodded. ‘He looked me straight in the eye as he spoke—it was a challenge almost, as if testing my reaction. Such men are better dealt with in calm deliberation, not youthful bravado, so naturally I had to agree that it was high time someone brought these fellows preying on innocent travellers to justice and left it at that.’
‘But—tonight of all nights. What shall we do? Mark has it all planned. Lord Rockley could ruin everything.’
‘No, he won’t,’ William countered fiercely, pacing the small area of floor between the flower-filled urn and Christina. ‘We must see to it that he doesn’t suspect a thing.’
‘Oh, how I wish we could cancel the party—to send word to everyone not to come.’
‘It’s too late for that. Besides, Mark wouldn’t allow it. You know the rules,’ William uttered with bitter irony, having come to rue the day he’d met Mark Bucklow and fallen into his clutches. ‘Tonight the gentry are coming to Oakbridge to make merry. The windows will be blazing with light and the drink flowing—enough to sodden their wits for their journey home. Do as he says, keep him happy and we’ll be all right. But, by God, if you open your mouth and squeal, Christina, he’ll break us both.’
Christina faced her brother, holding her hands in front of her so they wouldn’t tremble. ‘I understand, William, and I’ve never gossiped in my life. It doesn’t matter to me what Mark Bucklow does or what company he keeps, I’ll do what he asks and he’ll have no cause to grumble. But if he hurts you in any way, I’ll go and find a magistrate and bring him here. I’ll have the law on him. Then let him try and break me.’
Her show of spirit brought a grim smile to William’s lips. ‘That’s a pretty speech, Christina. Scratch you and you show your claws, but Mark has more sense and cunning than the law and we both know it. The constables are too scared to shove their noses into what he does.’
What he said was true. All her life Christina had felt content in the quiet, comfortable, well-to-do existence into which she had been born. And yet, it had only taken William’s meeting with Mark Bucklow to set the wheels of fate in motion, precipitating her from the tranquil monotony of her familiar world into the future, whose far-reaching horizons were hazy and unknowable and often frightening.
Mark Bucklow was one of the most dangerous and feared men Christina had ever met or heard about. There were many in the fraternity who were in awe of him and feared him. Mark’s rule over his gang of thieves was supreme. The fraternity’s meetings took place at Oakbridge, in a labyrinth of ancient tunnels running beneath the house. The chamber he used was at the exit of the tunnels, the perfect hideaway, so well situated for his organisation that he and his associates could come and go as they pleased with comparative ease.
Oakbridge was in the heart of Mark’s domain, where constables were reluctant to venture. Mark knew every highway and byway, every house and hiding place and escape route, every type of thief and scoundrel who worked for him and owed him a cut of their earnings, and if any dared take their plunder elsewhere, he’d be floating in the river before the day’s end. Only the most hard-bitten thieves and cut-throats defied Mark Bucklow, and brave though he tried be, William wasn’t one of them. Mark had threatened to kill him if he didn’t comply with his wishes. It was no idle threat. William knew this and he was right to be afraid—not only for his own life, but for Christina’s also.
Christina had no illusions about her brother and she had to stop herself from conjuring up all the gruesome outcomes of his involvement with Mark Bucklow of which her imagination was capable, lest she frighten herself into an early grave. She loved William dearly, but she could not ignore the fact that he was inclined to laziness.
Their father had dispatched him to Balliol College at Oxford University to read law. Their father had died while William was at university, leaving him a wealthy young man. Elevated to a position of importance, he had left his studies for the seedy delights on offer in London. Here he had taken up with a wild, rakish set of young men. Awestruck, his new cronies introduced him to the private clubs of the elite and to the high-stake games of chance that flourished within these establishments. It had been a heady temptation that he could not resist. Lacking any kind of guidance, he had recklessly gone his own way, and within two years his wealth was exhausted.
It was at this desperate time that William became associated with Mark Bucklow. Seduced by