15
On the way back to the house, Maxwell offered to speak to Godfrey on Diana’s behalf. “You’re already anxious about having to speak to Miss Boyle, and I’d like to spare you at least one awkward interview,” he said. “I’d willingly speak to Miss Boyle for you, as well, if I thought it would be helpful, but I am a stranger to her, and she’d be much less likely to confide in me.”
“How kind of you to offer, but you’re right, it’s my responsibility to talk to Mildred. However, I will gladly allow you to speak to Godfrey. I suspect he dislikes women, or at least dislikes taking orders from one, so you would probably get much further with him than I would.”
When they arrived at the house, Godfrey met them at the door, and Diana told him that she was going up to her room to refresh herself but that he should see to Mr. Dean’s comfort. Left in the hall together, Godfrey asked Mr. Dean how he could serve him.
“You could answer a few questions for me,” Maxwell said, “about the man who is claiming to be Lucius Boyle.”
“Claiming to be?” Godfrey asked, and Maxwell, studying Godfrey’s expression, felt that he was not being untruthful. While Godfrey had appeared to hint earlier that Lucius was not Mildred’s nephew, he was not now denying that was the man’s name. This added an entirely new dimension to the affair, and Maxwell quickly thought of what that could mean in the face of the information he did possess.
“Come, Godfrey, I’m aware that he is not Miss Boyle’s nephew.” Godfrey did not contradict this statement, and Maxwell, who had arrived at what he felt was a logical conclusion, asked: “Is he the natural son of one of the Boyle men, either Percival or his father?”
Godfrey, whose expression rarely changed, couldn’t prevent a slight look of surprise at this question, which he conveyed by blinking a few times in rapid succession. However, he then disappointed Maxwell by answering: “Not to my knowledge, sir, but it’s not my place to say.”
Maxwell wondered if he would get further by offering the man money for what he undoubtedly knew, because Max had no doubt he knew exactly who Lucius Boyle was. However, that could just as easily prove offensive and Godfrey, who was not being exactly forthcoming, could clam up altogether. So Max smiled at him, as if he just wanted to have a cordial chat. “How long have you been here at Whitley House, Godfrey?”
“I started nigh on four-and-thirty years ago, in 1783.”
“Quite soon after George Boyle’s death.”
Godfrey just nodded, but looked a little suspicious, as if curious where Maxwell had obtained such exact information of the Boyle family.
“And it was just Mr. Boyle and his sister, Mildred, living here all that time? There were no other siblings?” Maxwell asked.
“There was just Mr. Boyle and his sister,” Godfrey said. This confirmed what Maxwell and Diana had already discovered: there was no brother, at least no legitimate one.
“It’s impressive that you have been in service with them for so many years; you’ve been loyal to the family for decades. However, Miss Boyle doesn’t own Whitley House, Mrs. Boyle does. Wouldn’t you like to display your loyalty to her?” Maxwell asked Godfrey, in what he felt was a very reasonable manner.
Godfrey’s controlled demeanor finally cracked a little, and some of his true feelings emerged. “I am loyal to them that are loyal to me. Thirty-three years I served that man; knew more about him and his sister than they knew about each other, and kept it to myself, thinking he’d reward me in the end. But no, not Percival Boyle. He respected no one, man or maid. When they read the will, he commended me for my faithful service and left me a broken old watch. He gave all the money, anything of value to her, who hated the very sight of him,” Godfrey said, dropping his proper mien and letting his bitterness show in his tone and on his face. But he quickly had himself back under control when he heard a carriage on the front drive.
“Tell Mrs. Boyle that in proof of my loyalty to her, I would recommend she ask Miss Boyle about the circumstances surrounding Lucius Boyle’s birth, as Miss Boyle was present on that occasion.” Godfrey said this with a significant look that made it clear Mildred was not just a bystander. “That is all I will say on the matter, especially as I hear a carriage arriving. Most likely Miss Boyle and Mr. Lucius Boyle have returned,” he said, and he left Maxwell to go to the door.
Maxwell, shocked by what he had just been told and even more shocked by what he had then surmised, did not want to be caught standing in the hallway by Mildred and Lucius when they entered the house. He also wanted to give Diana some warning before she spoke to Mildred. He realized it was extremely inappropriate for a gentleman to enter a lady’s chamber, but he could think of no other way to speak to her before Mildred did. He went up to the second floor and began knocking on doors and was quite relieved when Diana finally appeared at one.
“What is it, what happened?” she asked him, motioning for him to enter her room and quickly closing the door once he did so.
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Boyle—” Maxwell began, but Diana interrupted him.
“Mr. Dean, this is becoming a little ridiculous. I think we’ve reached the stage in our relationship, especially now that you’re standing here in my bedchamber, where you can call me Diana.” She was blushing as she said this, and smiling shyly, but she managed to raise her eyes to meet his.
“Diana,” he said softly, returning her smile. And then he repeated her name again, in a firmer tone: “Diana, I would much rather talk about what stage you think we’ve reached in our relationship, and I would also like to hear you address me as Maxwell, or Max, if you prefer. But unfortunately, Mildred and Lucius Boyle have arrived and we must instead discuss them. Which is the last thing I’d like to do, having just been invited into a beautiful woman’s bedchamber.”
They continued to smile silently at each other for a moment more before he reluctantly changed the subject to the most awkward and unromantic one he could ever imagine having to discuss with her. “From what I just learned from Godfrey, I think that Lucius might be Mildred’s son.”
“What? That’s impossible. Mildred never married,” Diana said, speaking the last sentence slowly and emphatically, as if he might be deficient in understanding.
“I am aware of that. However, it is possible to bear children even if one is not married,” he told her, feeling as if he was explaining to a six-year-old who staunchly believed in them that there were no such things as fairies.
“It’s not possible; you must have misunderstood. Mildred would never— Why, the very notion is preposterous!”
Maxwell could understand why she had a difficult time accepting such a thing; Mildred Boyle was not the type of woman you’d suspect of ever having been a participant in any sort of scandalous behavior. But she hadn’t always been a fifty-three-year-old spinster.
“I know it seems hard to believe, but that’s the only explanation that makes sense. It’s true that I might have misunderstood, or that Godfrey purposely led me to the wrong conclusion. But I didn’t want you to speak to Mildred without first knowing that she might be Lucius’s mother.” Diana still looked shocked and overwhelmed, so Maxwell smiled at her and briefly clasped her hand. “This is your opportunity to display the forgiving attitude your mother taught you, as well as to suspend judgment until you learn the entire story.”
“You are right. If it is true—” She stopped and sighed. “Poor Mildred.”
At just that moment they heard the voice of “poor Mildred” from outside the door, accompanied by a loud knock. “Diana! Godfrey tells me you’re here.”
Diana and Maxwell looked at each other, their eyes big. “This is terrible,” Diana said. “She’ll be sure to think—” And then she realized the foolishness of worrying what Mildred might think about her, and she and Maxwell smiled at each other.
“Even if she did claim that you’re compromised when she finds me here, the last thing she’d want is for you to marry me,” Maxwell said, and Diana felt a pang of disappointment that Mildred wouldn’t insist they marry.
“Diana! Are you talking to someone?” Mildred asked, rattling the doorknob. Diana had not locked it, and she and Mr. Dean turned to face the door at the exact same moment Mildred opened it.
Mildred was so surprised by the sight of Mr. Dean in Diana’s bedchamber that she was unable to speak for what might have been the first time in her life. She just stood there and gasped, her plump cheeks and panting mouth making her look like a fish that had just been dragged to shore and was taking its last desperate breaths.
“Come in, Mildred. Mr. Dean had just come up to tell me you had arrived,” Diana calmly told her, and then turned to Mr. Dean and said, “I would like to speak to my sister-in-law in private, so perhaps you could wait for us in the drawing room. And if Lord Jerome and Lady Regina return from their walk, could you please tell them I’ll be down as soon as I’ve finished my conversation with Miss Boyle?”
Mr. Dean bowed to the two women and left the room, and Diana gestured for Mildred to sit on a chair by the window. Mildred did so, but she had finally regained her voice and told Diana how shocked she had been to find Mr. Dean in her room. “I know you’re a widow and thus permitted a little more license than an unmarried woman, but you should be careful of your reputation, nonetheless.”
“Thank you for the warning, Mildred, but I am not in the habit of inviting gentlemen into my bedchamber,” Diana said.
Mildred opened her mouth to reply, and then closed it and her eyes as well. Diana watched her, wondering what this odd behavior signified. She hoped Mildred was not having a stroke. But then Mildred opened her eyes, swallowed visibly, and said, “I beg your pardon, Diana. I know you are a virtuous woman and that your relationship with Mr. Dean is—none of my affair.”
Diana was so taken aback by this uncharacteristic response that she did not know how to reply. Though she agreed with Mildred that she should mind her own business, she could hardly say so. But it appeared Mildred did not expect a reply, because after a moment she began speaking again. “I had actually gone to town today to confess to you that I had encouraged Lucius to call on you with the goal of seeing the two of you make a match. I am exceedingly fond of Lucius, he is . . . almost like a son to me, and in my anxiety to see him settled, I ignored your wishes entirely. I realize your match with my brother was not by your choice, and it was . . .” She paused to clear her throat. “. . . wrong of me to try to coerce you into another such marriage. Lucius will no longer attempt to court you. Indeed, it was his suggestion that I apologize to you so that you could feel free to return to Whitley House without fearing he would pester you with unwanted attentions.”
She had been telling Diana all of this while staring down at her hands, which she held clasped together tightly in her lap, but she finally looked up and met Diana’s gaze, and said a little defiantly: “Although Lucius is an admirable young man and I believe he would have made you a fine husband.”
“I am sure he is, Mildred,” Diana said gently. “But are you being entirely truthful when you say that he is ‘almost’ like a son to you?”
Mildred turned so white Diana thought she might faint, and she rushed to Mildred’s side, grabbing one of her hands and chafing it. “I am very sorry; it was unkind of me to mention it so abruptly.”
Mildred stared at Diana a moment more, before she licked her lips and took a deep breath. “Who told you? Was it Godfrey?”
“Not in so many words. But he did confirm that Lucius was not your nephew and suggested I speak to you.”
“Who else knows? Did you tell Lady Regina and Lord Jerome? Lady Gordon? Does all of London know of my shame?” Mildred asked, and Diana’s soft heart was touched when she saw a tear run down Mildred’s very pale cheek.
“Only Mr. Dean knows, and it’s because he suspected Lucius was not who he claimed to be and wanted to help me. But neither he, nor I, will tell anyone. The only thing I care about is why you would play such a trick on me,” Diana said, and though she was trying her best to guard her tongue, she couldn’t help but let some of her disappointment become evident in her tone.
“I just wanted to provide for Lucius. As you discovered, I’m his mother, and I’ve never been able to give him anything,” Mildred said, before she began sobbing so violently that Diana was frightened for her health. She had never touched Mildred in her life until just a few moments ago when she had grabbed her hand, but now she found herself hugging the older woman and patting her back to try to calm her.
Mildred’s sobs eventually quieted, although she was still shivering, and Diana told her she would go get a glass of water. “No, Diana,” Mildred said, her teeth chattering. “I want to explain . . . I don’t want you to think even worse of me than you must already.”
“I don’t think badly of you, Mildred,” Diana protested, though that was not entirely true. However, she was disappointed in Mildred for lying to her and trying to trick her into marriage, not for any mistakes she may have made in the past.
“How could you not?” Mildred said, and Diana was glad to see that she had finally stopped shivering. “What a hypocrite you must think me, to lecture you so frequently about your behavior, when you know I’ve done far worse. But I could not tell you, could not tell anyone, that Lucius was really my son. He would be blamed for my sins and denied a place in society. That is why I could not reveal my secret; it was more for his sake than my own.”
Diana handed Mildred a handkerchief and they sat in silence for some time. And then Mildred began to tell her story in a soft voice that Diana didn’t recognize. She wondered if this was how Mildred had sounded as a young woman, before what she’d experienced had embittered her.
“I was an heiress at one time, too, you know,” Mildred said, “though I was never as pretty as you. My father died before I could come out and then Percival was always so unsociable; I was as naïve and gullible as a child, although I was twenty-one when I met Lucius’s father, John.
“It was my very first ball. I had somehow been invited to Horace Walpole’s, probably because they knew I was an heiress. John was a guest there, and he seemed so suave and sophisticated, such a different creature from anyone I’d ever met in my poor sheltered life. Percival disliked him from the first and told me he was only after my money, which turned out to be true, but I wouldn’t believe it. I loved John, and I believed him when he said he loved me.
“He convinced me to elope with him, telling me that Percival would never give us permission to marry. He knew I was of age, so he thought I was already in possession of my fortune. He didn’t realize that my father had left it under Percival’s control, and that I would only receive it if I married someone Percival approved of. I wasn’t aware of it, either, as neither Percival nor my father ever spoke to me about money, and I assumed it already belonged to me. So both John and I were ignorant of the fact that I wasn’t really in possession of a fortune, and under that misconception we made our way to Gretna Green. But it’s a very long way to Scotland, and it took even longer thirty years ago, when the roads weren’t what they are now. We had to stop at an inn on three nights, and although I insisted on separate rooms on the first night, the second night there was only one room available, and John told them we were husband and wife, and then told me we were as near to that as made no difference.” Mildred started crying again, and Diana waited patiently for her to regain her composure, making little consoling noises until she did so. “So he ruined me, and I told myself that it didn’t matter; because as he’d said, we’d be husband and wife in just a few days.
“However, Percival caught up with us the morning of the last leg of our journey, and explained to John that I was not in possession of my fortune, and that I would never receive it unless he approved the marriage. John told him that I was ruined, that no one else would marry me, and that it would only make sense for Percival to accept our marriage and release my fortune to him. At this point I realized John didn’t love me, he had never loved me, but I figured I had made my bed”—Mildred made a wry grimace at her choice of words—“and I must now lie in it. I was still willing to marry him; indeed, I knew I had no choice. It never occurred to me that Percival would not agree to release my fortune. And without a fortune, John would no longer marry me.”
“Oh, Mildred, that’s terrible!”
“I was devastated, but Percival refused to change his mind, and would not listen to any of my pleas. We came back to Whitley House and I knew that, now that I had lost my reputation, I would spend the rest of my life here, with a brother whom I hated. And, as despicable as John had proved himself to be, I still mourned the loss of the love I’d had for him. But I soon found my life was destined to become even harder, because as you’ve no doubt realized, I later found out I was pregnant. I begged Percival to give me my fortune and let me marry John after all, and he might have, as he hated the thought of me bearing a bastard child even more than I did, but in those few months we were apart, John had found himself a new heiress and had married her.”
“No!” Diana said, shocked. “The man sounds like a complete scoundrel, Mildred. I am sorry that Percival wouldn’t give you your fortune so you could have married, but perhaps you were better off without him.”
“I don’t think so, Diana. At least if he’d married me, I would have been able to . . . keep my child,” she said, the last words coming out as a whisper as she fought to maintain her fragile composure. “Percival sent me away when it was no longer possible to hide my pregnancy, and it was at some remote hired cottage that I had the baby. The morning after Lucius was born, Percival arrived with a nursemaid and took Lucius away from me. They pulled him from my arms, and it made no difference that he screamed and cried and so did I. Percival wouldn’t even tell me where he’d had him taken, even though I asked him repeatedly over the years. And Godfrey, whom I suspected Percival told and who was a footman at the time, was promoted to butler. I think it pleased Percival to have someone here at Whitley House who knew my humiliating secret.
“It wasn’t until after Percival died that it suddenly occurred to me that I might be able to discover where Lucius had been sent. I went to our man of affairs, who was no longer bound to keep it secret, and he told me where payments had been sent for the first eighteen years of Lucius’s life. He was raised in a vicarage, by a vicar who already had a large family, and Percival gave them fifty pounds a year to house him. Fifty pounds a year! Less than he spent on wine! And then when Lucius was eighteen and the allowance ended, his foster family put him out with the clothes on his back. He stayed in sporadic contact with them, however, and they told me he had gone to London and was working as a bank clerk.
“And then, after I finally found Lucius, it occurred to me that, even though Percival was already rotting in his grave, I could still have my revenge on him. I could put Lucius in Percival’s place. I could give him Percival’s wife, Percival’s house, and all the money Lucius and I were entitled to that Percival never gave us and gave to you instead. If you want the truth, Diana, I think that’s the reason why my brother married you. He knew that if he didn’t have some other heir then he would have to leave Whitley House to me, and he couldn’t bear to do so.
“So that is why I tried to trick you into marrying Lucius. I said he was Percival’s nephew because he was, and I did want to stick to the truth as closely as possible. But of course he was not my nephew, and he was definitely not Percival’s favorite relation,” Mildred said, with an ironic smile. “Lucius wasn’t enthusiastic about the scheme, but went along with it to appease me. However, while he was willing to meet you and even marry you if he thought you favored his suit, he had come to realize you did not, and we had gone to visit you today because, as I told you earlier, we were going to apologize and confess. Oh, not about Lucius being my son—I had still hoped to keep his illegitimacy a secret—but that I had promoted the match for my own purposes and would cease doing so.”
Mildred looked completely wrung out by the end of her confession, her face mottled and blotchy, her eyes and nose red. Diana thought it so strange that she’d lived in the same house with Mildred for years and knew nothing of the tragedy that had marked her life; that she’d kept such a distressing secret completely hidden.
“Thank you for telling me all of this, Mildred. I am so sorry for all that you’ve suffered,” Diana said, and Mildred looked up, an expression of surprise on her ravaged face. She had been sitting with her shoulders slumped and eyes downcast, awaiting some sort of judgment and sentence from Diana, and this expression of sympathy was far from what she’d been expecting to hear.
“No, I am the one who is sorry,” Mildred said. “By the time Percival married you, I had forgotten how to show kindness and only knew how to hurt and be hurt. I’ve treated you very ill, indeed. I hope that you can forgive me. If you find that you can, perhaps we could . . . begin again.” Mildred’s voice had almost petered out completely by the time she finished this speech, and Diana had to lean forward to hear her.
“I would like that very much,” Diana said.
Mildred went to her own room, but stopped Diana as she was passing by on her way downstairs. “I assume you will ask Lucius to leave Whitley House,” Mildred said, and her lower lip trembled a little. “Would it be possible for him to stay another few nights? He will have to look for another position and find lodging.”
“Of course he can stay a few nights. In fact, please tell him not to search for lodging until you and I have had an opportunity to speak again. As long as he promises to leave off his pursuit of me, I have no objection to your son visiting you,” Diana said. “And Lucius can continue to be known as your nephew, if that’s what you both prefer. It is only Mr. Dean and I who are aware of the truth, and we will keep your secret.” Mildred’s grateful smile caused Diana to realize it had been her perpetual scowl that had obscured her features and caused her to look disagreeable. The smile transformed Mildred, and Diana could see her resemblance to Lucius, who, now that he would no longer be harassing her with his attentions, Diana could admit was a handsome man.
Diana was very relieved that she would soon be rid of her unwanted suitor, and she was also much more at peace with the prospect of returning to Whitley House now that she and Mildred had come to an understanding. She still felt a pang at the thought of leaving Regina and the other friends she’d made the past two months in London, but she would not be saying goodbye forever; she’d only be a short drive away.
She was partway down the stairs when she saw Maxwell standing in the doorway of the drawing room, looking anxiously up at her. It appeared that he’d been waiting there for some time so that he would be able to see her as soon as she came down after her conversation with Mildred. He looked a question at her, and she nodded and smiled, and his own expression changed from concern to relief. She felt warmed to the bone by the realization that her feelings mattered so much to him; that she mattered so much to him.
He stopped her to briefly ask, “Was what we assumed correct?”
“Yes, I’ll explain it all to you later,” Diana said and, entering the drawing room, she saw that Regina and Jerome had come back from their walk and were talking to Lucius.
“Is Miss Boyle coming down?” Lady Regina asked.
“Unfortunately not. She is indisposed. If you are ready, I believe we can head back to town,” Diana said, and the others agreed that they were ready to depart. Diana went to ask Godfrey to call for the carriage and, before he left to do so, said to him, “Thank you, Godfrey, for your discretion.”
“Of course, ma’am,” Godfrey said, his face expressionless, as befitted a good butler.
Diana told the others in the carriage ride back to town that Mildred had admitted she’d been encouraging Lucius to pursue her but had agreed to tell him to cease his attentions.
“I feel much happier about returning to Whitley House now,” Diana said. “Indeed, Mildred and I seem to have reached an understanding.” She looked at Maxwell as she said this, and he smiled approvingly at her.
“I am so glad, Diana,” Regina said. “It was terrible that you felt so uncomfortable about returning to your own home. To be honest, I’ll be happy to see less of Lucius Boyle myself.”
The conversation then turned to Regina and Jerome’s wedding plans. They had decided to marry in two weeks in the drawing room of Regina’s townhouse, with only a few guests. “Just you and Mr. Dean, and Lady Gordon. We will write to invite my brother and his wife, and Jerome’s brother as well, but we doubt they will come.”
“My brother was in town earlier in the year and left just a few weeks ago to return to his estate in Lincolnshire,” Jerome explained.
“And now that you’re feeling more comfortable about going to Whitley House, Jerome and I will probably take a wedding trip and visit our family. They will be very happy to hear that their plans for us have finally come to fruition,” Regina said.
Diana realized that she and Maxwell would have no privacy to discuss what she’d really learned from Mildred, so when he dropped her and Regina back at their house and asked if he could take Diana on a drive two days later, she readily agreed. She and Regina had no engagements for the evening, and Diana was glad to have solitude to consider the situation with Mildred. She eventually thought of a way to mitigate the injustice that had been done, but she did not want to make a decision too quickly and later regret her impetuousness. However, as she said her prayers that night before going to bed, she felt more at peace with herself and her decision than she had since the dreadful day she’d become Mrs. Boyle.