Lark paced the room, clearly struggling to contain her emotions. “Why didn’t you tell us the truth weeks ago?”
“I was ashamed,” the old woman said. “And what was done was done. I didn’t see how it could do any good to relate the story now. We all agreed to make it right for Kate. We were going to welcome her to the family, give her all she was due. But then last night, when you told us about the bawdy house . . .” Aunt Marmoset’s tears renewed. “Oh, it was my fault. I was so sharp with the girl. When she asked me where she should go or how she should live, I . . . I told her she wouldn’t get a penny from us, and she should go live like the slattern she was.”
“Oh, no.” Kate covered her mouth with her hand. “You didn’t.”
Kate stared at Aunt Marmoset, uncertain what to say or do. In the past weeks, she’d come to think of this woman as . . . as the closest thing to a mother she would likely ever know. And now to learn she’d been turned away, even as an infant.
For a moment she was back in Miss Paringham’s sitting room, swallowing dishwater tea and dodging blows from a cane. No one wanted you then. Who on earth do you think will want you now?
“I’m so sorry,” Aunt Marmoset said. “I know you may never forgive me, and I’ll understand if you don’t. But I’m so fond of you, dear.” She sniffed. “I truly am. I love you like one of my own. If I’d only known that my moment of peevishness would have such dire consequences . . .”
“You didn’t know,” Kate found herself saying. “You couldn’t have known. I don’t blame you.”
“You don’t?”
She shook her head honestly. “I don’t.”
Miss Paringham’s scornful words that day hadn’t altered the course of her life. She doubted a few moments’ ugliness from Aunt Marmoset had been enough to determine her mother’s entire future. For Elinor to grow so desperate, more than one door must have been closed in her face. Or perhaps she’d simply been unwilling to live by others’ rules. Kate would never know.
Aunt Marmoset clasped Kate’s hand. “Do you know how she responded that day, when I turned her away?”
Kate shook her head. “Tell me, please. I want to know everything.”
“She lifted her chin, bade me a good day. And she walked away, smiling. She kept her dignity, even after I’d lost mine.” The older woman’s papery hand squeezed Kate’s. “You have so much of your mother’s fire.”
Your mother’s fire.
At last, Kate had a name for that small flame warming her heart. She did have something of her mother. She’d carried it inside her all along, and it was more precious than a memory of her face or a verse her mother might have sung. She had the courage to smile in the face of cruelty and indifference—to clutch her dignity tight when she had nothing else. That inner fire was how she’d survived.
She would find an answer to this situation, and it would not involve marrying anyone. Anyone other than Samuel, that was.
“Should we tell Evan this?” she asked. “Perhaps he’d feel less obligated to marry me if he knew that—”
“Less obligated?” Harry cried. “Surely you know him better than that, Kate. If Evan hears of this, he’ll have us scraping your shoes in penance. He’ll dress Lark in sackcloth and ashes for her debut. He will certainly not feel less obligated.”
Kate chewed her lip, knowing Harry was right.
She did have one last source of hope, however. Susanna. Perhaps Susanna could make Lord Rycliff see sense and release Samuel from the gaol.
Just then, Susanna and Minerva entered through the parlor door. Badger scampered to the floor as Kate stood to welcome them.
Susanna wasted no time on pleasantries. “It’s no good, I’m afraid.”
“He won’t be moved?” Kate asked, deflating back into her chair. “Oh no.”
Susanna shook her head with so much agitation, her freckles blurred. “What good is a ‘code of honor’ if it flies in the face of all common sense? Bram insists that he’s bound to do as Thorne asks, even if he personally disagrees. He won’t hear any argument. It’s all wrapped up in pride and brotherhood and his wounded leg. I tell you, whenever that dratted leg is concerned, Bram’s impervious to reason. If the man ever had a sensible bone in his body, it must have been his right kneecap.”
She sat down next to Kate. “I’m so sorry. I tried my best.”
“I know you did.”
Minerva added, “I considered asking Colin speak to him, as a last resort. But I worried it might work against us.”
Kate tried to smile. “Thank you for the thought.”
“Surely one of them can be worn down, over the course of days,” Susanna said. “This can’t last forever.”