“No,” said Lady Charlotte.
Colonel Morrell had prepared himself for everything. He had all his facts in order. He had gauged this meeting to a nicety.
He was not prepared for no, and he couldn’t believe his ears.
“I beg your pardon,” he said. “I thought you said no.”
“That is what I said,” she said. “No the first time and no again. I can hardly believe you would use these tactics. But yes, I must believe it, because I know men can be unscrupulous in such matters.”
He was not unscrupulous. He was trying to save her from her own folly!
“Lady Charlotte, I think you are letting your emotions get the better of your sense,” he said.
“I’m done being sensible,” she said. “Ten years of it have brought me nothing but regret.”
He saw her slipping through his hands, after all these months of making her feel safe in his company, all this time getting her used to having him about.
This was not supposed to happen. She was supposed to see that he was the steady one, the man she could rely upon. He’d found out her secret and not breathed a hint of censure. He was prepared to do whatever was necessary to keep it, to protect her. He was her knight in shining armor. Why couldn’t she see that?
Because Carsington stood in the way.
“Lady Charlotte, I heard about the walk after church with Mr. Carsington,” he said. “You think his intentions are honorable. They may be. For the moment. But to some men, marriage means nothing.”
“I’ll take my chances,” she said.
“For God’s sake, don’t be a fool!” he said. “Don’t risk everything—your honor, your family’s honor—to throw your life away on a man who won’t stand by you. Don’t make the same mistake you made when you were sixteen.”
“It’s not the same mistake,” she said. “This is a completely different one.”
“Lady Charlotte.”
“Thank you for telling me about my son,” she said.
She rode away.
Darius had mounted his horse and was about to set out for Altrincham when two riders entered the stable yard, one male, one female.
One, Lady Charlotte. The other, Tom Jenkins.
She wore a blue habit, which Darius supposed was plain and practical compared to her other attire. Yet ribbons sprouted gaily from her hat, a lacy ruff encircled her throat, and puffs jutted out from the shoulders of the riding dress, whose absurdly long sleeves were festooned with braids. She was braided up the front, too, in a deranged imitation of a military fashion.
The attire was pure feminine froth. But as she neared, Darius saw nothing light or frivolous in the way she carried herself. Something was very, very wrong.
He looked into her taut, white face. “What is it?” he said. “What’s wrong?”
She glanced back at Tom Jenkins, who withdrew to another corner of the yard.
“It’s Pip,” she said.
“Yes, he’s gone missing,” Darius said. “But don’t worry. He can’t have gone far.”
“He’s mine,” she said. Her eyes filled. “He’s mine, and it is—” She broke off, swallowing hard.
“Well, yes, I surmised as much,” Darius said, wishing he could take her in his arms. At the moment, that was not only indiscreet but impractical. He ached for her, but emotion would not solve any problems. They needed to be rational. “He’s deuced expensive, too,” he said. “You would not believe the sum the Tylers want for him. But I’ll find the money. You needn’t worry about that.”
“The Tylers,” she repeated. “Good grief. The money. His articles. You said he’s gone missing. The colonel said—Oh, dear God, we must find him.”
“Charlotte, you must try to calm yourself,” he said, handing over a handkerchief. “What is this about the colonel?”
She wiped her eyes, her nose. “It was Colonel Morrell who told me about Pip,” she said. “He knew everything: the date my baby was born and where and the couple who adopted him. Everything. But I knew. Even before the colonel told me, I knew Pip was mine. But I wouldn’t let myself believe it. I wouldn’t let myself look for him or talk to him. I was afraid. A great coward, as I told you. My whole life has been a lie. A house of cards. If I faced the truth, told the truth, everything would fall to pieces.”
Darius saw it in an instant: the scandal, the end of respect for her…shame for her family…heartache for her father. Endless repercussions.
“You are not a coward,” he said firmly. “You were facing catastrophe.”
“I should have faced it,” she said. “Now I don’t know what Colonel Morrell will do. He may be angry enough to tell my father. I don’t know. I don’t know him at all, I realize. But I think—I’m afraid, truly afraid he’ll take Pip away. For all I know, he’s sent him away already. He said the articles were easy enough to buy.”
Darius swore, quietly but fervently. “No one will take Pip away,” he said.
“I knew you’d say that—or something like that,” she said. “He said I couldn’t count on you, but I knew I could.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I could have spared you this trouble if I had not been such an idiot yesterday. I had been wondering if you knew—or guessed,” he said. “I meant to ask you about it yesterday, but I’m not good at broaching delicate subjects delicately and then I was distracted by the drawers on your head and the fornication and such.”
She tried to smile. Her mouth trembled with the effort and a teardrop made its way along the side of her nose. “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I only knew I couldn’t agree to Colonel Morrell’s proposal. I want you. I want my son. I came to you because I didn’t know what else to do. I cannot think clearly. You are so—so logical. I knew you would sort it out.”
And he knew he would do anything for her. She was his to love, to protect. He’d never guessed how good it could make him feel, to be needed, and to know he was capable of doing what needed to be done.
“Of course I will,” he said. “Wipe your nose.”
They must first go to the Tylers’ place in Altrincham, Mr. Carsington told her. That was where he was already planning to go when Charlotte arrived, he said. He’d found it hard to believe Pip would run away for the reason given, and he suspected this was a ploy of some kind.
“I doubt Mrs. Tyler would give up Pip easily, in any event,” he said, as they rode out of the stable yard. “If she thinks she has two parties interested in him, she’s likely to play one against the other, hoping to raise the price. She seems to believe that all aristocrats have bottomless purses.”
But Mrs. Tyler wasn’t at home when Charlotte and Mr. Carsington arrived. The eldest daughter, Annie, said her mother had left for Manchester in the morning, leaving Annie in charge. Mrs. Tyler wasn’t expected back until tomorrow. In response to further questioning, the girl said, yes, a man had come about Pip this morning. Not a gentleman. A bald man who talked a long time with her mother. No, Pip hadn’t come home yet. Annie thought the bald man had gone looking for him, but she couldn’t say for certain.
“Do you recall the bald man’s name?” Charlotte asked. “Was it Kenning, by chance?”
Kenning had been with Colonel Morrell in the army, she knew. He was the one the colonel would trust with a secret, or something underhand.
The girl thought, then shrugged. “Might’ve been, your ladyship. I don’t remember. I’ve seen him before. Goes to the tavern regular. I don’t like him, always nosing about.”
Annie seemed genuinely baffled at the idea of Pip’s running away. “But he’d got nowhere to go to,” she said. “Anyway, Ma always screams like that. She don’t mean half what she says. She’s always saying she’s going back to Manchester and leaving us, as we’re so ungrateful and troublesome. She’s only cross, you know. Even when she does go, she always comes back. She didn’t want to leave there and come here, but Pa said we had to, for the work and because we can live cheaper here. Pip knows how she is. He’s very clever, is Pip.”
When they left the cottage, Mr. Carsington did not lead Charlotte back to Jenkins and the horses but in the other direction, not many steps away, to a quiet corner of the churchyard.
“I doubt Mrs. Tyler has taken Pip to Manchester,” he said. “Annie would have said so. She did not seem concerned about keeping any secrets. She was more than happy to express her opinions. Now at least we understand why Mrs. Tyler is so short-tempered and greedy. She doesn’t want to live here. If foolish aristocrats are willing to pay a high price for Pip, she’ll take it—and move back to Manchester.”
“But if she hasn’t got Pip, what if Kenning has?” Charlotte said. “He might have offered more money than she could resist. And if Kenning has Pip, where would he take him? Colonel Morrell said he sent Fewkes abroad.” The nearest port was Liverpool, not forty miles away: a journey of a few hours. “What if Pip is on his way to Liverpool?”
“Wherever he is, we’ll find him,” he said. “We’ll need more resources than I have, though, if matters have gone as far as that.” He paused. “Whether they have or they haven’t, it’s long past time to speak to your father. The day is getting on, and he needs to know the truth. It would be better if he heard it from you than from Morrell.”
She looked away toward the church. “The colonel’s probably told him already.”
“Possibly. On the other hand, Morrell might be giving you a chance to have second thoughts, to come to your senses. He may be waiting, as men often do, for the woman to recover from the emotional storm and look at matters more practically.”
“That is possible,” she said. “He did seem thoroughly flummoxed when I said no. And it was clear he thought he was saving me from myself.”
“We’d better go to Lithby Hall now,” Mr. Carsington said. “The sooner you speak to your father, the better.”
“I know.” That’s what her brain told her. Meanwhile, her heart raced, and the inner cold came and went.
“He won’t reject you,” Mr. Carsington said. “He loves you too much.”
“I know!” she cried. “That’s the trouble. He’ll be hurt—for me. He’ll grieve—for me. So much love for his perfect daughter, the apple of his eye. I know he won’t love me any less, but it is so…hard, knowing I’m not what he believes me to be, knowing I’m unworthy of so much love.”
“Shall we trade fathers?” he said. “Yours thinks you perfection. Mine thinks me hopeless.”
“I should find it easier to face your father than mine,” she said. “Lord Hargate would tell me my behavior was disgraceful as well as idiotic. He would tell me how ashamed of me he was and how I ought to be ashamed of myself for all the trouble I was causing the family—and I think it would be a relief to hear that.”
“You think so now,” Mr. Carsington said. “I should like to hear what you’d have to say after spending an hour or more in the Inquisition Chamber, having your character, tastes, principles, intellect, and life’s work torn to shreds. Then he takes all the little bits remaining and scatters them to the wind with a wave of his hand.”
“It would be a relief,” she said. “But it’s no good debating which is worse. I’m only putting off the inevitable. I’m trying to be calm and sensible, but I am so frightened. Oh, and Lizzie—to betray her, after all she’s done. That may be worst of all.”
He took her hand. “It’s going to be hard, very hard. But you won’t be alone. You know I’ll be with you.”
They found Charlotte’s father and Lizzie in the library. Both looked very interested indeed when Charlotte entered with Mr. Carsington. Papa came forward, shook Mr. Carsington’s hand, then, smiling, moved to stand behind Lizzie’s chair.
Mr. Carsington closed the door.
Since no one closed doors to rooms in the public part of the house, Lizzie and Papa looked at each other knowingly. Then they looked expectantly at Charlotte and Mr. Carsington.
She could guess what they thought they knew and what they were expecting to hear. Already they probably heard wedding bells in their heads.
They could never guess what they were about to hear.
“Perhaps, after all, you’d better let me introduce the subject,” said Mr. Carsington.
“I can tell them,” Charlotte said. Her hands were shaking. She folded them tightly against her waist.
“My dear,” said Lizzie. “You are as white as a sheet. Is anything wrong? Molly told me there was some trouble about Pip. The child is not hurt, I hope? Those dreadful Tylers did not send him back to the workhouse?”
“We shall come to that subject in a moment,” said Mr. Carsington. “First, however, I wish to address Lord Lithby. Sir, Lady Charlotte and I would like your permission to be married.”
“Mr. Carsington,” Charlotte said. “I appreciate that you are trying to soften them—”
“I never softened anyone in my life,” he said. “I thought, first things first. First we make it plain why I am here. Lord Lithby, I have made no secret of my intentions. As soon as I understood my feelings for Lady Charlotte, and received indications that she returned them, I commenced the rigmarole Society requires in courtship. However, in recent days it has become plain—”
“Papa, Lizzie, I have something to tell you,” Charlotte cut in determinedly.
“Good heavens, you do look ill, my dear,” Papa said. “You had better sit down.”
“I cannot sit down, Papa,” Charlotte said. “I am not ill, only sorry, so very sorry.”
“My dear, it seems that you are engaged to wed—or near enough to it as makes no matter,” he said. “There is nothing to be sorry about. I have a high regard for the gentleman who stands beside you. I shall be sorry to lose you, naturally. Yet I am not at all uneasy about relinquishing you to his care.”
It was harder than even she had imagined, looking into his genial, loving countenance.
She dragged in air, let it out. Tried once more.
“I made a mistake, Papa,” she said. “A long time ago.” She looked at Lizzie, who had gone very still. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. You’ve done everything for me. You saved my life, and you made me strong, stronger than I’d been before. I love you dearly, and I should give anything not to cause you trouble. But I…” She paused, trying to collect her thoughts.
“My dear love,” Lizzie began.
“No, please,” Charlotte said, holding up her hand. “Let me say it.” She folded her hands again, tight against her belly. “You asked about Pip. He’s…he’s the baby we gave away. He came back and…f-found me.” She made herself look at her father then. “He’s my baby, Papa.”
There was a short, excruciating silence.
“Pip?” said Lizzie. “Oh, my love, are you quite sure? You are not imagining—”
“What is she imagining?” Papa said. “What is this about a baby? You never had a baby, Charlotte. Are you delirious?”
“I had a baby, Papa,” Charlotte said. “Ten years ago.”
She saw her father’s grip tighten on the back of her stepmother’s chair. He looked down at Lizzie, who was looking up at him. “What is she saying, Lizzie?”
Lizzie laid her hand over the one so tightly gripping the back of her chair. “Ten years ago when I took her to Yorkshire, she was pregnant,” she said gently.
“I don’t believe it,” Papa said. “I cannot believe it. You said she was ill.”
“She was,” Lizzie said. “She was so distraught that I feared she’d do herself an injury.”
“She didn’t dare to tell you, Papa,” Charlotte said.
“Didn’t dare?” he said. “Didn’t dare?”
“Please don’t blame her,” Charlotte said. “It was my fault. I couldn’t bear for you to know. I was so ashamed and—and so wretched, I should have killed myself, if not for her. Lizzie saved my life, Papa. Never forget that, please.”
“How could I forget?” he demanded. “My God, Charlotte, what do you think of me? How could you not tell me? What could you possibly fear—from me? When did I become a monster in your eyes?”
“Never,” she said. “I was ashamed. I couldn’t bear for you to know what I’d done. I could scarcely bear knowing it.”
“You didn’t have to bear it,” he said. “I’m your father. You come to me when you are in trouble, and I bear it for you. Why did you not come to me? What have I done?” He looked down at Lizzie. “She should have come to me, Lizzie. What did I do that she didn’t come to me?”
“I was sixteen years old,” Charlotte said. “You were all my world. I was…afraid when you married Lizzie, and…I did this dreadful thing. Then I realized what I’d done—and it was too late. I knew you’d forgive me. You love me so much, you will forgive everything. But I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear for you to know I wasn’t pure and—and good. I couldn’t bear for you to know I’d thrown away my innocence—for nothing, not even for love—on a worthless man. I wanted to be the wonderful daughter your love painted me to be. That’s what I’ve wanted for ten years, and it’s wrong. For ten years I’ve been thinking like a sixteen-year-old girl. For ten years I have not grown up. And for all those ten years, my little boy has been growing up without me.”
There it was, so simple: She’d given up her son for her father—the father who’d never dream of asking such a sacrifice of her.
Her heart broke then. She could feel it. Everything she’d locked up, all those wishes and longings. The stories she’d made up about her baby, and the way she’d imagined her little boy growing up. The dreams of all she might have shared with him. The fears were shut up in there, too—that he’d never had a chance to grow into a little boy. It was all locked in there, ten years’ grief she’d never let herself feel fully. Ten years’ grief, allowed only a few tears now and again, late at night, on her pillow.
The tears fell now, thick and fast, and she turned to Mr. Carsington. He drew her into his arms and held her tight. He said nothing but she could feel his heart beating, so hard. “It’s all right,” he said gently. “It’s done now.”
Morrell might have his medals, Darius thought, but Lady Charlotte had all his courage and more.
She had faced the father she adored, and only Darius, who stood so close, knew that she had been shaking from head to foot. Looking from father to daughter, Darius had ached for her, for her father. He’d prepared to step in, to support her at any moment, but she had spoken from her heart, and his own heart wouldn’t let him diminish her words by adding to them.
She’d done her part bravely.
The rest was up to Darius, as he’d promised.
He looked over her head toward her parents. Lord Lithby stood behind his wife’s chair, his hands once more clamped upon the back, as though he would strangle it if he could. Lady Lithby’s hand lay on one of his, holding him there, Darius supposed, with that light touch.
“No one blames anybody, Charlotte,” she said. “You must stop blaming yourself. I am sorry you have kept this inside you. If I had known…” She shook her head. “But never mind my ifs. It is a terrible circumstance of nature that one might give birth to a child while a child oneself. We did what we believed was best at the time, in the circumstances. What is important now is to make matters right as best we can.”
“Make them right, yes,” Lord Lithby said. But his eyes were red and all the light seemed to have gone out of him and he looked old, suddenly, though he was a man in his prime.
“I think we’d best start by finding Pip,” Darius said. He quickly explained the situation: the boy’s disappearance, Morrell’s revelations. “Since Pip travels to and from Lithby Hall, I thought we might begin here, by asking the staff about him. Then, if necessary, perhaps you would be so good as to organize a search party, sir.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Lord Lithby said, his mind clearly elsewhere. “Whatever you like. The child. Yes, certainly. Pip, is it? The boy who exercises Daisy. I saw him once, early in the morning. I saw him from a window. That is—he is—Good God, I cannot believe this. I should have known. My daughter. My grandson.” He brought his hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes as though from a painfully bright light. “Forgive me, Charlotte, but I am…I am…I don’t know what I am. Ten years.” His countenance darkened. “It was Blaine, then, of course. Who else could it have been?”
“It was,” his daughter said.
“I thought I’d dealt with him,” Lord Lithby said. He took his hand away from his eyes. “I had him sent abroad—to a desert island, I hoped. But he’d got to you first, the bloody damned cur. And you blame yourself, Charlotte? I should never have blamed you. I knew what he was.”
“I’m sorry, Papa,” she said.
“You were young, you were young,” he said. “Ah, well.” He made a visible effort to collect himself. “Never mind. We must find the boy, as Mr. Carsington so wisely says. I shall be glad to help. But I must beg your indulgence, sir. A moment, if you please. My lady will act in my stead for the present. But I must have some air. And I think…I believe I must…kick something.” He stalked across the room to the French windows and stepped out onto the terrace and walked rapidly away, into the garden.
Charlotte started to pull away from Darius to go after her father. “Don’t,” Darius said.
“Mr. Carsington is right,” said Lady Lithby. “Your father only wants some time to collect himself. He would spare you every hurt, as you know, and he is understandably distressed because he could not spare you this. He must feel thoroughly bewildered and helpless. Give him a little time, my dear. Even I am having trouble taking it in. I saw that child time and again and had no inkling who he was.”
“I knew,” said Charlotte. “I knew the instant I saw him, the instant I looked into his eyes. But I wouldn’t let myself believe it.”
“I noticed his unusual eyes,” Lady Lithby said, “but it meant nothing to me. I never met Captain Blaine. Even if I had, I’m not sure I would have believed it, either.” She smiled, and Darius clearly saw then the warmth that had won the hearts of both stepdaughter and spouse. “How sweetly you put it, my love: that your son had found you, after all this time.” She rose from her chair. “Well, let us try to make a start at finding him. Tell me again what Colonel Morrell said, exactly.”
Lord Lithby stormed through the gardens for a time. He stomped on a herbaceous border. He threw an ornamental urn against a stone wall, shattering it.
He paced one of the bridges across the moat, back and forth, back and forth.
Then he made his way to a shaded avenue, flung himself onto a stone bench and sat there, his head in his hands.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, grieving for his daughter. A long time, perhaps. He had a great deal to grieve.
A sound made him look up.
The bulldog Daisy stood before him, holding what appeared to be a piece of a tree trunk in her jaws.
“You ridiculous dog,” he said. “Who let you out to tear apart my gardens? Or did you come to help me do it?”
The bulldog shook her head, trying to shake the log to death, apparently.
“Lizzie sent you, didn’t she?”
Drool flew as Daisy tried to kill the log.
“I can’t play with you now, you silly creature,” he said. “I’m trying to collect my wits. Trying to calm myself. One is no good to anybody in an excitable state, and they need me to help—to find my grandson. My grandson. Pip.”
Daisy dropped the piece of tree trunk at his feet—narrowly missing crushing his toes—and bounded away. When Lord Lithby didn’t follow, she came back and repeated the performance.
“Ah, yes, Pip is your friend,” said Lord Lithby. “How many sticks do you kill for him, I wonder? But it’s rats, isn’t it? Good God. My grandson, earning his keep by killing rats at a halfpenny apiece.”
Daisy barked.
The average bulldog was fearless, determined, and persistent to a phenomenal degree, but it was also inscrutable. Other dogs made a noise about every little thing. A bulldog could remain stolidly mute in the face of the most extreme provocation.
When Daisy barked, therefore, she must be in a state of unbearable excitement.
Lord Lithby realized he’d said two unbearably exciting words. Rats and Pip.
“Where’s Pip?” he said.
Daisy trotted away from him, paused, and looked back.
Lord Lithby rose from the stone bench. “Very well, I’ll follow you—and you had better not be taking me to the nearest rathole.”
Meanwhile in the library
After closely interrogating both Darius and Charlotte about the day’s events, Lady Lithby disappeared for a time. When she returned, she had her bonnet on and her carriage ordered.
Darius had been afraid of this: everyone going off in several directions and no plan in place.
“I think it would be best if we approached the search in an orderly way,” he said.
“That is what I am doing,” said Lady Lithby. “If Colonel Morrell has the boy or knows where he is, I shall oblige him to give him back.”
“I can do that,” said Darius. “In fact, I should like nothing better than obliging him to do something.”
“I know you would like to break his nose,” said Lady Lithby.
“No, I should like to break every bone in his body,” said Darius. “Then I should like to throw him out of a high window.”
“That is irrational,” said Charlotte.
“It is perfectly rational for a male to try to kill another male,” said Darius, “especially when the other male threatens those he cares about.”
“It is gallant of you to want to smash Colonel Morrell to pieces,” said Lady Lithby, “but that course would not be productive. You will only get his back up. You will act like men, daring and daunting each other. He will deem it a matter of pride not to tell you anything. He will not behave that way with me. In any case, whether or not he can help us find Pip, I must speak to him—and you must let me, sir, like it or not. You must allow me to do something.”
“And what are we to do, Lizzie?” said Charlotte.
“You might try looking for Daisy,” said Lady Lithby. “I let her out. I thought that if Pip is nearby, she’ll be the one to find him. And Pip, in turn, will know she oughtn’t to be running loose and will bring her back.”
Colonel Morrell reviewed his speech over and over as he rode home, trying to ascertain where he’d gone astray. He should not have called Lady Charlotte a fool—that much was obvious. Her refusal had floored him, and he’d spoken without thinking.
One mustn’t do that with women. Even he knew that.
Women were so difficult. Life was so much easier in the army. Rank and rules. One followed orders. One gave orders, and others followed them. If one failed to follow the rules, one suffered the consequences, and those were perfectly clear. Everything was clear, even when one dealt with muddleheaded superiors.
It was clear, at any rate, compared to civilian life.
But women…
He’d rather face artillery fire.
“Damn me to hell,” he muttered. “I cannot leave it like this. She’ll think—God only knows what she’ll think.”
He turned his horse around and started back for Lithby Hall.
He was surprised—but not completely, when he thought about it—when he saw Lady Lithby’s carriage coming toward him.
He saluted as she went by.
The carriage passed, slowed, then came to a halt. A gloved hand signaled from the open window.
Oh, no, he thought.
He rode back to the carriage.
“How lucky,” said Lady Lithby after they’d exchanged greetings. “I was coming to speak with you. Perhaps you would be so good as to walk with me for a moment or two.”
This is not going to be good, he thought.
How could he expect it to be good? He had insulted the daughter of the Marchioness of Lithby. He had called her a fool—and he was not sure what else he’d said in the heat of the moment, the heat of anger and disappointment.
He quickly dismounted, opened the carriage door, and offered his arm.
They walked on until they were well out of earshot of both the maid inside the coach and the coachman on the box outside.
“I wished to speak with you about your conversation with Charlotte,” Lady Lithby said.
“I guessed as much,” he said. “I assure you, Lady Lithby, it was not the conversation I’d intended to have. When you stopped me, I was on my way, in fact, to beg her pardon for anything I said that was out of order.”
“I am glad to hear it,” said Lady Lithby. “I suspected that Charlotte heard a threat where there was none.”
“A threat?” he said. He reviewed what he’d said—for the twentieth time. “Good gad, you cannot mean she thinks I threatened to expose her. I told her quite clearly that my intention was completely the opposite.”
“She seemed to think your assurances applied only on condition of her becoming your wife.”
Women.
He did not grind his teeth. If he could restrain himself when with his uncle, he could restrain himself now.
“I made no conditions,” he said stiffly. “No gentleman would. If it sounded that way, I can only blame the heat of the moment. I did express myself badly, I am all too well aware.”
“I wished to make everything clear,” said Lady Lithby. “Some remarks you made might be misconstrued. I am concerned, for instance, that in your zeal to protect her, you made arrangements for the child.”
“Of course I have,” he said. “This morning I sent my servant Kenning to release him from his articles of indenture. I know it is an unhappy accident of fate, but the child’s present situation is an outrage. He is the son of a lady and a gentleman—a cad but a gentleman by birth. The boy shall have a proper home and an education befitting his station. I have everything in hand. You need not trouble yourself about it.”
“I must trouble about it,” said Lady Lithby. “We want the child.”
“You cannot be serious,” he said. “It will be impossible to suppress the matter if that boy remains nearby.”
“Charlotte does not want it suppressed.”
For the second time that day, he could not believe his ears. Had Society gone mad while he was abroad? Or was it only the Hayward segment of it? “She cannot admit to bearing a child out of wedlock,” he said. “I cannot believe you will let her do it. Your influence may prevent every door being shut to her, but she will be treated differently. Women far inferior to her on every count will look down on her. Perhaps few will dare to insult her openly, but you well know that Society has a thousand ways of cutting while wearing a politely smiling face. The idea of her being subjected to such indignities—No, it is unthinkable. Lady Lithby, you must dissuade her from taking this step.”
“She wants her child,” said Lady Lithby. “You must recall your servant from his errand.”
“Even if this were not completely mad, I could not call him off,” said the colonel. “Kenning has his orders. Everything has been arranged. He ought to be in Liverpool by now, if not on his way to Ireland.”