CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
* * *
Beth was finding her days dragging. Before she met James Blainey everything had gone along very nicely, with visits to the opera and the theater at night, and her days busy with Averil and the house, and the occasional shopping trip. She would wake every morning, filled with anticipation and looking forward to the hours stretching before her.
Not anymore. Now her days seemed very long. The minutes ticked by so slowly, and no matter how often she glanced at the clock, it did not move any faster.
Averil was keeping herself busy at the Home, but Beth had nothing like that to throw herself into. She had nothing to occupy her that would take her mind off James Blainey. The truth was, she missed him dreadfully and some mornings she lay in her bed, staring at the window, and thinking that she might just catch the mail coach north and tell him she would marry him after all.
But then all the other doubts would come crashing in, making her head ache. How could she marry James? Averil deserved her loyalty. Averil had been wronged. Beth could hardly run off and marry one of the men responsible for her current situation. Did she really want to alienate the girl who was more like her daughter than her charge? Was any amount of personal happiness worth that? Surely it would be a selfish act to marry James?
In the end she would get up out of bed and carry on with her day as if everything was the same as normal, but it was far, far from that. Her life was slipping by and the love she had miraculously found after all these years was slipping away with it. She had told James she would not marry him, but she felt in a sort of limbo, as if the decision was still waiting to be made.
“Miss Harmon?”
Beth looked up. She was engaged in the exciting task of sorting linen and had the parlor cluttered with various bits and pieces, laid out around her as she inspected them for wear and tear.
The maid chewed her lip, as if she was worried the news she had to impart wouldn’t be welcome. “The Honorable James Blainey is here to see you. I know you said you weren’t home to callers, but when I tried to tell him you weren’t receiving he became quite agitated and insisted I ask you anyway.”
James! The usual calm and unflappable Beth was thrown into an agony of indecision. She wanted to run to the door and fling herself into his arms and at the same time she knew she must refuse to let him inside. She could not see him. Could she? While she was vacillating, James barged into the room behind the maid.
He looked thinner, his clothing was creased and his hair was unbrushed, and there were shadows under his eyes, which looked rather wild. No wonder the maid had refused him entry. James had the appearance of someone who had escaped from Bedlam.
“My dearest Beth,” he cried, taking her hands, “I beg you not to tell me to go until you’ve heard me out.”
Beth wavered, but he looked so desperate, so earnest, she didn’t have the heart to send him away. And besides, the touch of his hands in hers, the physical presence of him, made her feel like a wilting flower that had suddenly been given a lifesaving drink of water.
“Dearest Beth,” he said, as the goggling maid shut the door, “I know you told me you couldn’t marry me, but I had to see you. To ask you again. There were things I needed to tell you. You’ve no idea how utterly miserable I’ve been, Beth! I haven’t had the slightest urge to take up the cards, and for me . . . well, it’s a first.”
“James—” Beth tried to interrupt, but he wouldn’t allow it. He’d set himself to say his piece and nothing was going to stop him.
“I know I behaved appallingly. I see that now. But sometimes, dear heart, I speak before my brain catches up with my mouth. And besides, it seemed such a good idea, Averil marrying Rufus. We are desperate, my dear, absolutely at rock bottom, and Rufus is too much of a gentleman to think of such a thing for himself. And the dear boy is so lonely and unhappy, and when I saw them together that night, when I saw the way they were looking at each other, I thought it was the perfect chance for Rufus to find the happiness he deserves. Two birds with one stone.”
“James, will you listen—”
“No. You listen, Beth. Please, just listen, and then if you ask me to I’ll go and never return.”
“Very well.” Beth tugged him toward the couch. “But sit down, James.”
He sat on top of a set of embroidered cushion covers, but Beth had always hated them so she remained silent. He wouldn’t let go of her hands. “I never expected to meet you. I was thinking of Rufus, and you sort of . . . crept up on me. I am so grateful I found you, Beth. I see now that my life has been missing a crucial component, an essential element, and without it nothing makes sense. Without you, Beth, nothing makes sense. Please, please, my love, say you will reconsider. Marry me. I swear you will never regret it.”
She waited, but he didn’t launch into any more impassioned speeches, and now it was her turn. While he had been speaking she had made a decision, and it was a decision she realized had been there all along, on the tip of her tongue.
“I know you meant well, James. When you told Rufus to persuade Averil to marry him, you were not acquainted with her, or me. But I still believe it was wrong, and if such an ill-considered idea ever pops into your head again, you must not let it past your lips.”
He nodded eagerly. “I won’t, Beth. I promise I’ll—”
“Hush, James. Whatever happens between Averil and your nephew is their own business. It is true that Averil is like a daughter to me and I will always do all I can to make her happy, but I have come to the conclusion that this is a matter between them. We cannot live their lives for them. They must sort it out themselves. You and I, well, that is a different kettle of fish.”
Another eager nod of the head, and a spark of hope in his wild eyes.
“James, we’re not young, and we must take hold of happiness when it presents itself and not let it slip through our fingers. I do love you and I want to marry you. These weeks away from you have been the most difficult I’ve ever known, and although I tried to pretend I could return to the life I had before, I can’t. I don’t want to.”
“Oh, my love,” he groaned and took her into his arms.
It was bliss, Beth thought, with a sigh. It really was. She couldn’t regret this, it just seemed so very right. At long last she had found the sort of happiness she’d dreamed of and she meant to hold on tight to it.
Averil saw the letter on the table inside the door, waiting for her, when she returned home after a long and eventful day. She had thought she might see Rufus again before she left but he didn’t come to the Home. Besides, what would she say?
I love you and I want you to marry me, even if it is for my money.
He might have played the hero today and saved her from whatever horrors Jackson and Sally Jakes had in store for her, and she might well love him, but she couldn’t swallow her pride and marry a man who only wanted her for her money. How could they live their lives happily ever after when that cold hard fact was always with them? And yet, Averil reminded herself, other couples married for wealth or bloodlines or family, and they managed to live reasonably happy lives.
For a moment she felt a spurt of hope but it soon faded. Others might live that sort of life, but it was not for her. The knowledge would eventually destroy her and any happiness she might hope for. And then there was the question of his honesty. Averil did not want a man who did not tell her the truth. Ever since she was a child, with so many questions and so little answers, she had made it her aim to be honest and to ask for honesty from others.
Averil sighed and picked up the letter. It was from Nanny Fredericks and she quickly opened it. Inside was a single sheet of paper, crisscrossed with the old lady’s spidery writing, and Averil took a moment to decipher it.
My dear Averil, she began, and there were several lines about how glad she’d been to see her, then there were more lines about life in the village, before finally she got to the point. I think there may have been a misunderstanding when you visited me recently. When you were leaving I said I thought I saw your mother, but I didn’t explain myself properly. It was the girl I saw, the young one you called Violet. She looked so like Anastasia it made me feel quite dizzy. I think, if you are looking for your sister, then you may have already found her . . .
“Violet?” she whispered. But Violet was Sally Jakes’s daughter. Wasn’t she? She lifted the locket from about her neck—she’d taken to wearing it all the time—and stared at her mother’s image. Was there a resemblance to Violet? They both had fair hair and pale blue eyes, but so did many other women.
“Averil?” Beth had come out of the parlor unnoticed.
“Oh.” She looked at the letter, about to tell Beth what she’d just read, but Beth wouldn’t let her speak.
“James Blainey is here, Averil.”
Averil finally noticed her companion’s flushed face and bright eyes, her smile that was in turn excited and guilty. And then James Blainey came up behind her, his face wearing the exact same look, and suddenly it all made sense.
“We’re getting married,” Beth blurted out.
“Married?” Averil gasped.
“Oh, my dear, I hope you don’t think I’m being disloyal.”
“Of course she doesn’t think that,” James said. “Averil only wants your happiness, my love.”
Averil realized that Beth was anxious because she might see her news as treachery. “Oh, Beth,” she said, and reached out to hug her. “I don’t think you’re disloyal at all! Of course you must marry James. Congratulations, and to you, too, James.”
James gave her a smile. He looked rather rumpled, as if he’d just arrived from Southbrook Castle, and that made her wonder if Eustace was in London, too, somewhere. And if Rufus knew.
“I must go back to the Mayfair house and tell Eustace the good news,” James said, answering one of her unspoken questions. He hesitated, not quite meeting her eyes. “Have you seen my nephew?” he asked tentatively.
Beth lost some of her glow; clearly she had not forgiven Rufus. “Is the earl here in London, too?”
“I have seen him. Briefly,” Averil replied evenly. “Will you stay for supper, James?”
But James had to return to Eustace, and Averil left them to say their good-byes and went upstairs with her letter.
With a sigh she sat down on her bed. So much had happened today, so much good had been done, there was no time to be sad. She smoothed out the letter and read it again. What if Violet was her sister? The more she considered the idea, the more solid it became.
But Sally Jakes had said Violet was her daughter and Averil didn’t know how she could find out the truth after all these years.
Rufus stood in the doorway, watching as Sally answered the police inspector’s questions. She was putting most of the blame onto Jackson, but Rufus knew that Jackson was doing the same to her.
The inspector glanced up and nodded to him, and Rufus came and leaned against the desk, folding his arms and giving Sally a long look.
“Violet,” he said. “Your daughter.”
Sally gave him a smile, but he sensed a tension in her that wasn’t there before. “What about Violet, Lord Southbrook? Does she take your fancy?”
He smiled back as if he hadn’t heard the insult. “Tell me, Sally, was Violet born while Lady Anastasia was at The Tin Soldier?”
Sally’s smile died abruptly. “What business is it of yours?” she snapped.
“I don’t think Violet is your daughter. I think Violet is the sister Lady Averil has been searching for.”
Sally snorted a laugh. “You’re talking rot, your lordship.”
“I don’t think so. Violet looks very like Lady Anastasia, according to my uncle, who knew her. And Lady Averil’s old nanny, who is still alive, will be able to confirm that. Come on, Sally, tell the truth for once in your life. Why did you take Violet and keep her? The Arnutts would have paid you handsomely for her. Why didn’t you offer her to them? Explain to me, Sally. If you do”—and he leaned closer, his dark gaze fixed on hers—“I’ll make sure you get a nice cell all to yourself.”
The inspector cleared his throat and stood up. “I’ll leave you to it then, Lord Southbrook,” he said. “Best I’m not a party to any conversation you have with Mrs. Jakes here.”
Sally watched him leave. “I’m not going to jail,” she said with a defiant stare.
Rufus shook his head at her. “Oh, but you are. Jackson will see to it, Sal. He’s singing like a bird right now. The only thing you can do is help me and allow me to help you.”
She looked away. He could see she was considering his offer but he was surprised when a tear rolled down her cheek, and then another. “She’s mine and I love her!” The tears might be to gain his sympathy, not that he had any for her, or perhaps they were for her own sake, and she had convinced herself of her lies all these years.
“I’m sure you do.” As much as Sally Jakes could love anyone.
“I wouldn’t ’ave given her away, even if Anna ’adn’t asked me to look after ’er when she died. Anna didn’t want the Arnutts to ’ave her. She said they’d only turn the child against ’er. She wanted me to ’ave her.”
Rufus wondered if that was true, or whether Sally had been so jealous of Anastasia she’d wanted the one thing the other woman loved so fiercely she’d refused to give her up.
“Thank you, Sally,” he said quietly.
“There’s something more.” Sally’s eyes had regained a little of their defiance. “Anna left a letter for ’er girls. I-I never gave it to ’em, but they may as well ’ave it now.”
“A letter?”
“It’s at the Soldier. In the ledger for 1830. I kept it there. Give it to ’em, will you? I always felt guilty about keeping it.”
But not guilty enough to be honest, Rufus thought wryly. “Very well, Sally.”
Sally nodded and another tear trickled down her cheek, but perhaps that was just more self-pity.
He turned away to hide the glitter of triumph in his eyes. Because now he had the thing he had promised Averil he would find for her. Her sister’s name. And better still, a letter from her mother. He could go to her and this time when he asked her to marry him she would say yes.