Chapter 8
For two days, Vanessa went about her daily activities mindlessly. Even her mother’s endless haranguing about how she and Mr. Durand were the talk of every drawing room in London, how she was “ruined” and her family along with her, and how in heaven’s name had the Lord above chosen to take her little brother aloft and not his useless older sister—went in one ear and out the other without pausing to fix itself anywhere in between.
Her father, however, after a private conversation with his daughter about the events of the evening, took the extraordinary step of sending his wife to Eugenia in Hertfordshire, to keep her from “cutting up his peace,” and with the additional benefit of preventing her from fanning the flames of the situation.
Mr. Durand had sent her a note the afternoon following the ball apologizing for the delay and promising that it would all be explained when he came to call on her the next day. Vanessa kept the note close to her, never doubting that an offer of marriage would be forthcoming, but quite concerned that it was coming too soon, that he must feel forced into marrying her, and whether or not she had manipulated the entire affair. As much as she cared for Mr. Durand and thought they would do well together, the thought of having nothing more than a “convenient marriage” suddenly did not seem like enough.
He was a kind man, a gentleman, respectable, well able to support a wife, and he was not likely to interfere with her activities with the Foundling Hospital. Just the sort of man she’d described as the ideal husband that fateful night at Vauxhall. The night they had first met. A coincidence or a heavenly event?
But now that she knew about his past marriage and the problems he had faced with his wife and mother-in-law—and still did face with his daughter—she found herself reluctant to propel him into a hasty marriage that he might later regret.
Most important of all, she wanted him to love her. As she loved him, she discovered to her great surprise.
Marriage was no longer a practical step to be decided objectively, as an escape from her mother. It would be a life shared with the man she loved, his daughter, and any children they would have. It would be an opportunity to be his helpmate, supporter, and friend, as well as lover.
But if he didn’t return her feelings, it could be the most miserable life she could imagine.
So when George did appear at Sedgely House requesting an interview with her father, she could not decide whether to be relieved or anxious, and thus found herself alternating between the two. When she finally was called down to the drawing room, she had checked her hair in the mirror and smoothed her clothing at least a dozen times, despite the fact that she kept reminding herself that she was a grown woman and not a silly young chit who put her appearance above everything else.
George was waiting near the fireplace when she entered, her father nowhere in sight. He was smartly dressed, as usual, in an elaborately embroidered bottle green jacket, with a gold waistcoat and buff-colored trousers. He seemed very happy to see her, but she thought she detected a bit of anxiety as well. Not surprising, under the circumstances.
Hastening immediately to her side, he bowed and reached for her hand to kiss it.
“Miss Sedgely! I am certain you have wondered about the reason for my tardiness in calling upon you. I hope you will allow me to explain the reason for the delay.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Durand. I have, of course, been concerned, but not, perhaps, for the reason you think. It is my fervent hope that the reason you were called away from the ball had nothing to do with any tragic news in your family.”
George sighed. “All is well at present, but I shall be pleased to tell you the whole of it. Shall we sit down?”
“Oh, yes, indeed. Can I offer you tea?”
“Perhaps later. I have been so anxious to have this conversation with you, and your reaction to it, that I find I cannot wish to have it delayed any further.”
“Oh my.” Now she felt concerned as well. What could have possibly caused his anxiety? Surely he didn’t doubt that she would accept his proposal. Or had he decided not to propose, and that was the reason for his concern over her reaction? She smoothed her skirts yet again to keep her hands from shaking.
“My daughter, abetted by her underhanded dancing master, decided she wished to discover for herself what went on at a Cyprians’ Ball.”
Vanessa gasped. This was not at all what she was expecting to hear.
His shoulders slumped. “Louise and I have been at loggerheads for weeks since I removed her from her aunt’s home. That, I suppose, is to be expected. Her resentment has, however, gone far beyond anything I could have expected.”
And so George recounted to her both of Louise’s scandalous episodes and how she managed to escape being permanently damaged by either of them.
“I believe her experience at the Pleasure Palace has frightened her sufficiently to give her cause to reflect before she attempts any such thing at a future time, but I can offer no guarantee of that.” He shook his head. “On each occasion, she was contrite and remorseful and promised never to consider such pranks again. And other than hiring an armed guard, I do not know how to prevent her from her own foolishness.”
Vanessa instinctively rose from her seat to sit next to him on the settee and take her hands in his.
“I’m so sorry, George. She must be a very unhappy child. But a fortunate one to have such a devoted father.”
He grimaced. “A very inept one, unfortunately.”
“A single man raising a daughter must find it very difficult.”
He gave a wry smile. “It is indeed. But now I find myself in an awkward position. Having come with a much more pleasant objective, I fear that you will misconstrue my motives.”
Going down on one knee, he took her hand and looked directly into her eyes.
“Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, Vanessa? Not because I have a daughter who needs a mother, nor because it is owed to you after our very public kiss at the ball, but because I admire you and love you and would be overjoyed if you would consider sharing my—our—lives.”
Heat radiated through Vanessa’s core. She was happy and yet…
“Dear George, do get up. Of course I will marry you, but—are you sure? Do you not think it too soon?”
He let out a huge breath, his eyes locked on Vanessa’s. “Too soon to know I love you? I think I fell in love with you that first night, at Vauxhall. But fool that I am, I did not want to admit it. I am considerably older, you know, and I thought you could look much higher. But you didn’t seem put-off by it, and I finally decided I should be a fool to allow such a minor thing to separate us. But are you completely certain, my dear? In a few years—hopefully a very few—Louise will be married, and I will be a grandfather. How shall you like being a grandmother so soon?”
Vanessa laughed. “So long as you do not consider my youth to be an impediment, I find I can bear the thought of being a grandmother quite cheerfully.”
He removed to the settee to take her in his arms and kiss her thoroughly, leaving Vanessa with no thought but that he did indeed hold her in great affection.
At the sound of a throat clearing, they broke apart.
“Mr. Sedgely ordered tea,” said the housekeeper, trying to keep a straight face.
“Oh, of course,” said Vanessa, still flushed from the kiss. “Would you like some, George? Milk? Sugar?” Her indulgent papa had not lost all sense of propriety, it seemed.
They drank their tea, aware that there were eyes on them from outside the open door.
“When should you like the wedding, my dear Vanessa? I suppose you would prefer St. George’s?”
Vanessa set her cup down on the side table. “As to that, I think we should consider postponing the wedding a bit.”
He gave her a quizzical look. “Do you think that wise? Considering the-uh- what happened at the ball?”
She rolled her eyes. “The wagging tongues? We shall announce our betrothal and not give them another thought. No doubt some other scandal will come to light before long, and they will forget all about us and our public kiss.”
He chuckled. “I won’t forget about it.”
“Nor I,” she agreed, her gaze focused on his lips. Ever mindful of their audience, however, Vanessa finally looked away, clearing her throat.
“I should like for Louise and me to become better acquainted before I am thrust on her as a stepmother. If she will allow it, I should like to spend more time with her. As a friend, as well as future parent, doing such things as making calls, shopping, strolling through the park, that sort of thing.”
“And I could escort the two of you to the opera or the theatre? A lovely plan indeed, Vanessa dear.”
“I wonder if she would consider working with me at the Foundling Hospital. I believe she found it of great interest when she visited last, and I think associating with the children will have a settling effect on her.”
George’s eyes danced. “Exactly what I was thinking! I declare I must be the luckiest man that ever existed, to have a helpmate—or future one, at least—who shares my sentiments so closely.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “But when shall we be married, my sweet? I shan’t wish to wait too long, you know.”
Vanessa bit her lip. “No, not too long. Perhaps Christmastide—no, I am committed to the Haverford house party—you and Louise are going as well, are you not?”
She stood up and began to pace back and forth. “Let us follow our plan for three months and, if all goes well, announce the date of our marriage—to be decided with Louise’s input—at the charity ball on New Year’s Eve.”
George rose to take her in his arms. “A perfect plan!”
“Is it time for the champagne yet?”
Mr. Sedgely entered the room, followed by the butler with a tray carrying three glasses and a bottle.
And the celebration began.
The Foundling Hospital, 40 Brunswick Square, London
Two weeks later
Miss Sedgely was actually quite nice, once Louise had had a chance to get to know her better. She seemed genuinely interested in being a friend to her, and not just in becoming her stepmother. In any case, her most recent near-catastrophe had given Louise reason to suspect that she really was in need of guidance, and Miss Sedgely seemed to be the perfect person to provide it.
Louise had been helping Vanessa with her classes, mostly reading to the children, for something over a week, when one day Vanessa took her aside and told her she had something to show her. Guiding her to one of the back rooms, she opened a cabinet and pulled out a large box.
“Each time a child was left here, a token was collected from its mother, to be used to identify the child should it be reclaimed. The tokens were wrapped in a billet, a number and date written on the outside, and then stamped and sealed until the child is claimed. As you can see,” she said, showing the vast number of bundles in the box, “there were many children never claimed. This box is from 1756, and there are many more of them.”
“Do you know what is in them?”
“Many of them are coins and medals, some with holes punched in them to make them unique. There are crosses, thimbles, hairpins, rings, playing cards, and bits of cloth. Anything the mother could find to help identify her child should her circumstances change and she find herself in a position to care for it herself.”
“Were some of the children returned?”
Vanessa nodded. “A few. Would you like me tell you about them?”
“Oh yes! Please!” begged Louise.
“There is a coin with five holes that was left with a child called Ann Williams. Her mother was a spinster of Holland Street in Soho. She was admitted in 1756, renamed Lucy Draper, and sent to nurse in Kent. Her mother returned for her two years later. She was able to identify her by the unique token, and she was given her child back.”
Louise smiled briefly, then sighed. “But so many of them never saw their children again. How hard that must have been!”
“Indeed. Or they returned too late. Many children do die in infancy, you know, and those at the hospital were no exception. In 1759, one mother brought her two-week-old son, along with a gold shirt buckle. A year later, she petitioned to get him back. After paying a deposit of eight guineas against his care, she was told that he had died just ten weeks before.”
Louise’s eyes filled with tears. “They made her pay and then told her the babe was dead? How dreadful!”
Vanessa squeezed her shoulder. “They did indeed, but fortunately, that is no longer the case.”
Louise grimaced. “Yes. But the cruelest of all is for a mother to be obliged to give up her child. I could never do that, Miss Sedgely. I should fight to keep it, no matter what the cost.”
Vanessa sighed deeply and gave her a thoughtful look. “I’m sure you would, my dear. But has it occurred to you that a situation might arise where it just might not be possible?”
Louise gasped. “To me? Certainly not! My father would never allow it!”
Vanessa swallowed. “It is commonly assumed that these children are the products of illicit liaisons—that their mothers were rather free with their favors—and this in some way taints the children themselves—no, it’s not at all fair, but it is what it is. You must know, Louise, that some of these women were virtuous, but were ruined by unscrupulous men who refused to take responsibility for the resulting children. And the world is full of such men, Louise. What would a parent do if his daughter fell into such a situation? What would your father do, Louise?”
Louise’s head snapped back. “Me? Nothing of the sort shall ever happen to me, Miss Sedgely! How dare you suggest it?”
Vanessa’s jaw set. “It is a hypothetical question, Louise. On at least two occasions, you have placed yourself outside of your father’s protection, and at any time during either of these, you could have been assaulted by some scoundrel on the prowl for a victim. You were fortunate to have escaped unharmed. But unprotected young women are attacked every day. What if—the next time you decide to attempt such a prank—it happens to you? How would you deal with the consequences, should there be any? How would it affect the course of your life—and your father’s? Each time you see one of these sweet children, imagine how it must feel to know it was abandoned by its mother, and how its mother must be heartbroken to know there is a child of hers in the world that she will never see again.”
Louise was crying quietly into her handkerchief. While she was angry at Vanessa’s daring to say such things to her, in her heart she knew it to be truth. She’d already come to terms with her father about her scandalous conduct, but it wasn’t until now that she could really understand how her foolishness could result in great harm to an innocent human being.
Vanessa nodded understandingly. “Dry your eyes and I’ll see you home, Louise. Shall I collect you at eleven for the modiste’s tomorrow?”
Louise nodded. “Yes, please, Miss Sedgely. And… thank you.”
Vanessa smiled. “You are welcome. And Louise—call me Vanessa, will you? I am not your mother yet.”
Louise grinned. “Vanessa.”