CHAPTER 6
WHEN WOMEN PLOT
I stewed over an empty cup at the countess’s kitchen table waiting for her to return. The lady’s nephew, the barrister who freed me and Jemina from Bedlam had barged in. Mr. Thackery seemed different than I remembered. I didn’t remember that the medium-build man was about my height. I thought him taller. I suppose everyone looked taller when I was chained to a wall.
He and the countess went for a private conversation.
My hope was that Lady Shrewsbury hadn’t changed her mind and was not currently giving the barrister instructions to recommit me to Bedlam.
The door swung open. Chuckling, she came back into the room. “Thackery is such a dear. He sends his regards and his wishes for you to be diligent and show more care. He worked hard to obtain your freedom.”
Doubt filled me. My stomach fell, and I waited for the words, You’re going back.
I counted to ten, held my breath, but no condemnation came.
In my softest voice, I said. “I just want my son. Tell me how to put my world back together. Tell me how to get my baby from the army you sent.”
Lady Shrewsbury leaned over and clutched my fingers. “I requested His Grace, but Repington, the military man, brought his troops. I told him that Lionel Jordan, his ward, was at Hamlin Hall. He’s your son’s true guardian per the will my nephew uncovered when we researched your identity. Mrs. St. Maur is not the most reliable witness, but she was correct about you.”
“Jemina is a dear. I owe her everything.”
“She is, but let’s focus on you, Patience. Mr. Markham planted false clues and had Repington chasing you and the babe all over England.”
“Repington was Colin’s grandfather, and he’s dead. The man I met tonight is very much alive.”
“Yes, Colin’s grandfather, the fifth Duke of Repington is buried in the family crypt. The sixth Duke of Repington is alive and well, but you must know this, as you met him tonight.”
Yes, he was alive and big and limping. I pulled at my livery, clawing to loosen the binding beneath my shirt. “I did meet him, but as a footman named LaCroy whom he discharged.”
The grand woman shrugged, and Athena gave a mimicking shake. “On a first meeting, you couldn’t stay employed?”
“He terminated everyone citing a need for loyalty, but he did not see through my disguise.”
“Then the rake is slipping. He can usually detect the female presence blindfolded.”
“A r-rake?” I rolled my r, something I did when surprised. “You mean a womanizer? What will he teach my baby? Will Hamlin be filled with scantily clad women?”
“Scantily clad women? That might be the duke’s penchant in private, but rakes like him go after difficult prey, Mrs. Jordan, not ones who can be bought.” The countess patted her hand. “You’ll need to live up to your name and be patient. Your recklessness is a mixed bag of trouble. That’s what I get for helping your kind.”
My lungs deflated.
The camaraderie and hope I had in my chest for the countess leached. I was again the label of other.
Not once since Lady Shrewsbury rescued me had I been made to feel other. From Markham or the butler, I wore a shield to protect my soft heart. For the countess, a woman I admired, I was bare.
What was left of my pride dropped to the pit of my stomach. “My kind?”
“Yes. Foreigners. People birthed in England have far more caution.”
I ripped off my gloves and looked down at my brown hands. “So, you don’t mean Blackamoor or mulatto?”
With Athena purring in her arms, the countess stood over the table. “Injustice looks the same on all women, the same. You’re a cheated widow made destitute by your husband’s dastardly family. My goal is to restore you and every widow whose been denied her rightful place, like I was.”
Her mouth lifted into a smile, and my heart again saw acceptance, understanding, even love.
“Let’s have tea. Even Demerarans fancy tea. I’ve left you stirring over an empty cup long enough.”
Spicy rum or tangy sorrel punch made from the petals of sweet hibiscus flowers was a favorite drink of my homeland, but warm tea was lovely.
“Mrs. Kelly is here.”
“What? They found your spy? Who will care for Lionel?”
“Calm yourself, Patience.”
After motioning to Athena to sit on her throne, Lady Shrewsbury went to the hearth. She retrieved a pot of steaming water. From a high shelf, she tugged down the lacquered, polished box used as a caddy for tea leaves, fresh ones, not used ones.
The countess brought everything to the table. “The duke sent her to me. He trusts that I will care for her. She was disoriented and fell down the stairs.”
The grand stairs? They were steep but so beautiful when the mahogany balusters and newel posts were polished to shine.
Waving the countess’s hands from the pot, I steeped our tea, then strained the golden liquid into the snow-white cups.
“My nephew confirmed that the Duke of Repington has not only seized Hamlin but also has made arrangements to stay at Hamlin long-term. I hope the duke trims the lawn in the spring. I hate leasing next to shabbily kept grounds.”
I almost dropped my cup. “Lawns?” I bounced up. “If this man is decent, I should go to him and tell him who I am.”
“It’s not that simple.” Lady Shrewsbury waved her hands, motioning for me to retake my seat, “The duke is not easy. He’s taken Hamlin Hall with an armed battalion and has dismissed the entire staff. He’s not sorting out good servants from bad ones. He’s made one quick judgment. We can’t have him doing that with you.”
“But, Countess, if I go now—”
“He’s a bull, a lusty bull. Bulls are not reasoned with. Their suspicions must be slaughtered, killed with kindness and loyalty.” The countess stroked Athena’s thick fur.
The kitty rolled on to her back as if to demand, Tickle me here. Athena had more control of her life and little body than I had of mine.
“Isn’t honesty the best path, ma’am?”
“Telling him that you infiltrated Hamlin as a manservant will not bode well.”
“But the truth—”
“The truth is not always enough.” The countess sat back, her countenance blanking, her lips becoming nonexistent. “Patience Jordan, why did you abandon your son?”
“I did not abandon Lionel!”
“You’ve never left his side, my dear?”
“Ma’am, you know very well I had no—”
“Answer the question. Have you left his side?”
I looked at the brown liquid in my cup. No help was in there. “Yes, I have.”
The countess leaned forward. “Where did you go when you abandoned your son?”
“I didn’t . . .” I knew what she’d pushed me to admit. I hated it but had to own it. Shoulders drooping, I coughed low. “Bedlam. Almost five weeks to the day I was told my husband committed suicide, I was tossed into Bedlam.”
“If I were my nephew, I’d have my hands behind my back and parade like a prized peacock presenting a winning argument in front of the jury box. I’d press you for the reason you were tossed into Bedlam. Was it a holiday from grief, Patience? An accident? A conspiracy?”
“It was a conspiracy. I was confused.”
“That’s not what the admission papers say. My nephew had to craft a bit of paperwork to overcome the eyewitness accounts stating you were a danger to yourself and your child. There’s sworn testimony about you being so guilt-laden over your husband’s death that you claimed to have seen his ghost and that you took the baby and nearly jumped over the stair railing. Hamlin’s stairs are steep. You or the baby could have been killed from a fall.”
Wanting to hide at the thought I might’ve hurt Lionel, I brought my palms to my face. “He had us locked in the nursery for weeks. I did what I had to do to keep up my strength and my milk for Lionel. I’d never hurt my baby. Never. I’d give my life to defend him.”
“I know, dear. You are good, Patience. A very good mother, but the duke will look at the account like a field report. Until he knows you, he’ll believe it. The man will never let you near the child. You have to trust me. We have to be smarter to outdo Markham’s treachery.”
My cup trembled within my palms; the tea inside sloshed but didn’t spill. The china was sort of like me, so full of heat, but yet I hadn’t cracked, hadn’t exploded. “Why is Markham doing this? I was good to his nephew. I followed the rules. Hamlin was immaculate. I burned the expensive beeswax candles, not cheap tallow ones, in the grand chandelier to welcome Colin home like a conquering hero, like all was well. I pretended not to notice his absences, his gambling. I even took him to my bed whenever he returned, even when I suspected he’d laid in others’ sheets. Why does Markham hate me? Is it my skin?”
“It’s never that simple. Yes, you were a good wife, but widows are cheated because of money and power. We find which one enticed Markham, and we’ll have the answer.”
The countess poured more tea. “Drink, Mrs. Jordan. It’s just chamomile.”
Staring at my full cup, I hadn’t thought it could be tampered with, but my heart believed the best too quickly.
This was my heel of Achilles.
I felt too much.
I saw the deepest love where there was tolerance.
The handsome hero but not the shadow of his demons.
I took a sip of my tea, almost wishing it had something in it to deaden my pain. “I don’t want anything more with Markham. I have means, independent of Colin. If I can get into Hamlin and retrieve my trust documents, Lionel and I can live safely.”
“Yes, if the duke would allow. But Lionel controls Hamlin and more money. Do you understand the terms of your marriage contract or your late husband’s will?”
“Paperwork? Not exactly.” I crossed my arms. “My father handled those things.”
“No wonder women are cheated. You have to know details. Your late father had doubts about your husband’s commitment. He put some rather odd terms in the marriage contract.”
The countess fluffed the lacy cuff of her robe. “Your husband was to collect four thousand pounds upon a son from your womb reaching four months of age and another ten thousand upon his reaching three years old.”
“Just a son? What if I bore a girl?”
“A mere five thousand pounds at age five, nothing else. I think your father wanted to assure that you and Mr. Jordan kept trying for success, so to speak.”
Did Colin know this?
With the money I’d overheard that he owed, he should have believed this baby was a boy. The payment would have been his, not something from me helping him, as he put it. It would have settled his debts. “Would this money come from the trusts Papa set up for my control?”
“No, the payment was separate. There are more inheritances that come from the Strathmore side of the family, investments that can’t be touched for some years. Upon Jordan’s death, the baby’s money goes to his guardian, as does control of Lionel’s fortune until he is of age.”
Markham would get it.
I bristled on the seat, my heart pounding louder and louder—malicious, malevolent, muckraker. My husband’s dying in December kept rewarding his horrible uncle from the grave.
Suddenly, so thirsty, I tried to extinguish my tongue with the tea, but a sea couldn’t quench my soul. It was on fire, burning me.
“The Duke of Repington is your son’s true guardian. I believe Markham delayed giving the child up to get the payment that is due next month. It’s good the duke has assumed custody.”
“How do I regain my son?”
“We need proof of Markham’s scheme.” With her sherry eyes softening, the countess clasped my hand. “To put it bluntly, no one is going to believe you were his victim, not without proof. The prejudices against you being foreign, a mulatto, a Blackamoor, a woman, a widow are insurmountable. If it’s found out that you’re gallivanting in men’s clothes and breaking into homes, you’ll be sent back to Bedlam.”
“There has to be hope. I survived thus far. I’ve not lost my wits. That has to mean something.”
The countess whispered something to Athena and set the snowball onto the table. The kitty came to me, meowed, then licked my fingers. The touch was soft and calming like Lionel’s coos the first night I snuck into Hamlin and he remembered me, remembered how to suckle.
“Please don’t tell me to give up, Countess. I cannot.”
“Never, Patience. We don’t quit. We must gain the duke’s trust. He’s a good man. Once the duke was informed of your husband’s death and the existence of a child, he’s been in dogged pursuit of Lionel. The man is logical but skeptical. He’ll believe the worst, no matter what his charming face says. Since he needs servants, you and Mrs. St. Maur will masquerade as such in Hamlin. You’ll gain his trust while searching for evidence against Markham.”
“Evidence? But hasn’t Mrs. Kelly been able to find something?”
“No. Between the little time she was allowed to care for Lionel and avoiding Markham’s flirtations, she’s found nothing. It was a difficult time, and next month is the anniversary of her husband’s death.”
Lusty, awful Markham would say or do all manner of things to try to have an advantage over a woman. “I must thank Mrs. Kelly, but do you think someone shrewd like Markham left evidence?”
The countess sat back, sliding her pearls in her palm. “He hasn’t left Hamlin, even though he knew the duke was searching for him. There has to be something in Hamlin he’s hiding.”
Did my future with Lionel depend upon finding a secret in a house filled with secret things? Slumping forward, I laid my head on the table on a darkened spot that may have been marred by a hot soup pot. “You think it will still be there when Markham is kicked out of Hamlin?”
“Trust me. There’s something there. And knowing the duke, Markham will be lucky to leave with his cloak. He’ll shake him upside down to make sure no silver fork leaves.”
Hope stirred in my heart. I wanted vindication more than vengeance.
The Angora wiggling around my head, her tailless bottom wagging, brought a small lift to my lips that had seemed cemented into a frown. I shooed her toward the countess. “I’ll do as you say. Being close to Lionel is my priority.”
Lady Shrewsbury made a tsk sound with her teeth, and the fluffy kitten trotted, then jumped into the countess’s lap. “Return to Hamlin as a servant, care for your son, and find the evidence we need to prove Markham’s guilt.”
“If there weren’t guards, I’d run back to Hamlin now and grab Lionel and escape.”
“Listen to me very carefully, Patience. The duke hunted down Markham. He’ll chase you and reclaim his cousin’s son. Then he’ll have you committed or imprisoned. He has the power to do this. All male guardians do.”
The countess shook her head, curl papers bobbing as she stood with Athena. “I know you want to flee. I’ve felt your desperation in my own head. If we do things the right way, you’ll be restored custody. You’re one of mine, Patience Jordan. I won’t let you run.”
Lady Shrewsbury stashed Athena in the crook of her arm. “Your son needs you in Hamlin. I’ll take you in the morning and use my influence with the duke to get you hired as a wet nurse and nanny. While you care for your son, you’ll gain the man’s confidence, and I know you will find the tools to expose Markham. The evidence may even give you peace on Jordan’s suicide. I’ve heard your nightmares. You have no peace.”
Could there be another reason than me, my worsening Colin’s depression? I scooped up the teapot and readied to dry the leaves. “I’ll clean up here and put away the cups.”
“This masquerade will work. Get some sleep. Things always look better in the morning.”
Kissing her kitty, Lady Shrewsbury moved to the door. “I expect to see you in the morning, Mrs. Jordan. I hope you’ll be here.”
“I’ll go by Mrs. LaCroy for our masquerade.”
Lady Shrewsbury nodded; her mouth even offered a smile. Soon her footsteps disappeared.
All was quiet.
I laid out the used tea leaves on a napkin and stacked the cups in the scullery, then rinsed out the pot, the rules for finishing a tea service. Sinking onto the bench, I dropped my face onto the spot the tea had warmed, right next to that communal soup-pot mark. I was grateful for the Widow’s Grace, but I wanted my life restored, all my pieces put back together.
I’d serve this Duke of Repington to serve Lionel, but only to get my son strong enough to sail. Once I retrieved my trust documents, we’d escape England. It was time to live by my heart’s rules. That had to be the smartest thing a widow could do.