Magnificent Devices [5] A Lady of Resources (12 page)

“I don’t know what to say. How do I tell her?” Lizzie palmed the tears from her cheeks and wished in vain for a handkerchief. The world had turned upside down in the space of ten minutes—she was crying with joy, weeping with despair—she hardly knew whether she was coming or going, turned inside out or right side up.

For once, the Lady had no handkerchief, either, since she was wearing a sleeveless dinner gown, and was making do with the ruffle trimming the bottom of her petticoat. Mr. de Maupassant—Seacombe—Father—had left them alone together in the library for a few moments, but the Lady seemed as much in need of comfort as Lizzie did herself. “I do not know. But you must think of a way.”

“I can’t think,” Lizzie wailed. “I have a
father
, Lady. A father who is rich and successful and a mother who loved me. I have a
brother
.” Her voice cracked and sank to a whisper. “But what I do not have any longer is a sister. Oh, Lady, how can I say that to Maggie?”

“It has made a wreck of me,” the Lady said bluntly, hunting for a dry spot. “I shudder to think what it will do to her.”

Which did not help in the least.

Lizzie hardly dared ask. “Are—are you angry?”

The Lady made a valiant attempt to pull herself together, abandoned the ruffle, and held out her arms. “That you have found your family? How could I be?”

Lizzie flung herself into them in a way she hadn’t since she’d begun letting her hems down, and sobbed into her neck. “I’m so happy—and—and—so miserable!”

“Lizzie, what’s wrong?” Maggie’s voice came from the doorway, sharp with alarm. “They sent me back to see what was keeping you. Has something happened?” Maggie picked up her skirts and dashed over to the sofa, where she sank to her knees and slipped her arms around Lizzie’s waist. Her amber gaze flitted from her to the Lady, widening with real fear as she saw the traces of tears on the Lady’s cheeks. “Lady—Lizzie—please tell me. I can’t bear it.”

“It is Lizzie’s to tell, if she can.”

“What does that mean?” Maggie’s arms tightened and Lizzie’s heart broke that her sister—cousin—was already terrified, and she hadn’t even got the words out yet.

You must do this. With love … and for love. Whatever comes after is up to Maggie.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and sat up, wrapping Maggie in a hug that lifted her up next to her on the sofa. “Mr. Seacombe has just told me some astonishing news.”

“Bad news?”

“N-no … good news. Wonderful news. At least, I hope you will think so.”

“No one else in this room seems to think so.” Maggie’s tone had not lost its edge of fear. “Lizzie, please. Spit it out, or I shall explode.”

Another breath. “We have just learned that Mr. Seacombe is my father. Which makes Claude my half brother. And you my cousin.”

She could feel the withdrawal already as Maggie’s familiar hug loosened and she pulled back in shocked confusion. “I may as well be the cat’s grandmother, for all the sense you are making.”

“Mags. Look.” She pointed up at the wall, to the picture of her mother, and as gently as she could considering her nose was still running, told Maggie the story. When she left out the bit about Maggie’s own mother, the Lady shook her head. If the truth were to be told, it should be told complete. Claire added those details in the softest, most gentle tones Lizzie had ever heard her use.

But they still fell upon Maggie’s reeling mind like the sharp pummeling of hail, if the way she flinched was any indication. “I don’t understand. Is he saying that … we are not twins?”

“No. Born within a week of each other, but not twins.”

“Not sisters?”

“Cousins. Our mothers were sisters, who loved each other very much.”

Maggie gazed up at the portrait, her face slack and disbelieving. “And your mother was a fine lady who got her portrait painted, while my mother was a—a desert flower who died having me?”

“She was
not
a desert flower,” the Lady said firmly, though how she could sound so positive, Lizzie didn’t know. The Lady knew as much of the circumstances as Lizzie did—which was next to nothing. “We do not know her situation, but a girl of good family would not take up that life. She was forced—or there was a secret marriage—or there is some other explanation, you may depend upon it.”

It was clear Maggie did not believe her. “Who was my father, then? What is
my
name?”

“We don’t know,” Lizzie said, wishing that didn’t sound so damning. Wishing she had let Father tell her. “But your name is the same as mine, since Mr. Sea—Father adopted you.”

Maggie’s mouth trembled and she rose from the sofa. “Father? You’re calling him Father now, are you, after meeting him only three times in your life?”

“He appears to be what he says he is, darling,” Claire said softly. “Her birth certificate was in his desk—and you girls were close when you chose your birthday. Lizzie’s is March twenty-second.”

“What about
my
birthday?”

“March twenty-fifth. That is information that only Lizzie’s father would have—and it dovetails perfectly with what she remembers.”

“But I don’t remember it, and you say I was there, too!” Maggie cried. She turned to Lizzie, pleading. “You don’t remember, not really. He could be feeding you a line of codswallop to—to—well, I don’t know why he would, but he could be!”

“That is just the reason we believe it to be true,” the Lady said. “Mr. Seacombe has no reason in the world to claim Lizzie as his daughter—being perfectly cognizant of her past—other than the fact that she really is.”

“But what about me?” Maggie wailed. “What is going to happen to me? To us?”

“That, I fear, is the crux of the matter.” The Lady’s face grew bleak. “What may be enormous good fortune for Lizzie—to be reunited with her family, to have a home, things that any compassionate person would not begrudge her—is the cause of equally enormous grief for me.” Her lips trembled no matter how much she pressed them together. She swallowed and went on, “I do not know how I shall bear it, if we are to be separated.”

“We shan’t be separated!” Lizzie said fiercely. “We’re a flock. Nothing will change. Maggie and I simply have firm and sensible reasons to go to finishing school now, and we will come back to England during holidays just as we always have.”

“No, we won’t.” Maggie couldn’t seem to stay still. She paced the Persian carpet, her skirts whipping around her ankles as though she kicked them. “You’ll come here for holidays, or Paris, or the Antipodes—wherever he and Claude are. Of course you will. You’ll want to be with your family.” With what appeared to be an effort of will, she added, “I would, too, in your place.”

“But why wouldn’t it be your place, Mags?” Lizzie leaped up from the sofa to stop her frantic pacing. “Father said that he adopted you as his own. We were both with our mother when the airship went down. He has found not just one daughter, but two.”

“I was not the one he asked into the study to tell the happy news.”

“That was because you’d already gone ahead to
Lady Lucy
. I’m sure you were next.”

“I don’t think so. Why would he want me? It appears I’m not even related to him, and it’s not very likely that a promise he made to his wife sixteen years ago is going to hold now.”

“You’re wrong. He’s not like that.” Maggie’s intuition and knack for observing people were often right, but Lizzie knew in her bones that they were not this time. “Come on. We’ll ask him. He’s gone out to the ship to tell Claude and everyone else. We’ll ask him and you’ll see.”

Lizzie pulled them both along with her across the expanse of lawn to the broadmead by the river where the airships were moored. As they mounted
Lady Lucy
’s gangway, they could hear the sound of applause, and a whooping sort of cheer. And then, as they reached the doorway to the grand salon, they stood transfixed.

Claude, all nearly six feet of him, capered with delight, whirling about the room like a dervish. In one glance, he saw Lizzie, dashed over, and swung her around so that her silk skirts flared out like a bell. “Elizabeth! My sister! It is you—I knew it would be—found at last!”

She had not spared a single thought as to his feelings about their father’s revelations. Her only concerns had been for Maggie and for the Lady. But this! There could be no doubt about her half-brother’s thoughts on the matter now.

“I’m so happy!” He crushed her to him in a hug that would set permanent wrinkles in her bodice—but she didn’t care. She hugged him back and laughed with contagious joy. This was the kind of welcome that could warm the very cockles of a lost lamb’s heart—the kind of joy that finding the lost ought to bring.

And with no warning but a cloud of light perfume, Cynthia von Stade engulfed her in a hug of her own, and then she was being patted on the back by Darwin and Evan and Geoffrey and wished every joy as though she had done something marvelous. Even Arabella leaned in with a cool kiss to say, “I knew there was something more to this party than charity.” Behind it all stood their father, beaming with happiness, and over there by the coffee service was Lady Dunsmuir, her lips parted in astonishment, an empty cup forgotten in her hand.

Lord Dunsmuir was seated on a sofa under the viewing port, trying to explain to Willie what had happened. And there, next to the decanters of spirits, stood Captain Hollys and Tigg.

Tigg knew nothing of her feelings—nothing of her future. But from the other side of the salon, over Cynthia’s bare shoulder, Lizzie could see it in his face. She knew without a doubt that he was already saying good-bye.

*

For the next two days, Lizzie’s emotions flung themselves from the depths of despair to the heights of joy—sometimes within the space of a few minutes. Despair when Tigg turned away from the celebration and went back to his duties in the engine room—clearly a ruse, because the engines were not running—with hardly more than a word to her. Joy when Father sent the pigeon notifying Maison Villeneuve in Geneva of the change in her name and advising them that she would require a private room and a personal maid when she arrived in September. Despair again when Maggie decided once and for all that she would not go to Geneva under any provocation and she hoped the maid would be a better friend, if Lizzie was going to be so stuck-up as to go along with such a ridiculous plan.

All in all, it was quite a relief when the day came for everyone’s departure. Now she and Maggie would have some quiet time together to talk. They could ride, and ramble through the park, and even go boating, since it appeared Claude was going to leave his skiff here for the summer. Lizzie walked into the room they shared, ready to suggest they might do any one of these after the Lady lifted, to find Maggie laying the last of her blouses in her valise.

“Mags, what are you doing? You don’t have to change rooms, you know. There is plenty of space in here for both of us.”

“I’m not changing rooms. I’m going to London.”

For a moment, it felt as though Maggie had landed a roundhouse punch in her solar plexus. She could hardly get a breath. “But—but why?”

“It’s what we had planned.”

“But everything is different now.”

“Different for you, maybe. Not for me. Are you telling me you’re not coming to the Lady’s investiture?”

It hadn’t even entered her head. Not once.

And worse, Maggie saw it had not. “Don’t you think that after all she’s done for us, you might see your way to doing something for her?”

“I—I—”

“I packed your valise, too.”

“I can’t go. Not now.”

“Why not? Why can’t you take two days to be with her for something that you know perfectly well means everything to her? While all these wonderful things are happening to you, can you take a moment to remember how momentous this is for her?”

Did no one understand? “The Lady is always doing momentous things. She won’t miss me.”

“She will. And even if she doesn’t, I will.”

“As much as I’ll miss you here. And in Geneva.” Maggie concentrated on tucking the lace collar of the blouse into place just so. Lizzie tried again. “Stay for a month. The rest of the month. It’s only ten days. I need you with me while I get my feet under me—while I get used to all of this.” Despite herself, her throat closed up. “I need my sister to scout with me, the way I always have.”

Maggie left off fiddling with the valise and straightened. “Your cousin, you mean. Come to London, and then I’ll come back with you.”

“I can’t. Father and Evan are entertaining some lot of scientists tomorrow evening and I’m to act as hostess.”

“They are? When did this come up?”

Lizzie waved a distracted hand. “I don’t know. I suppose it was always up, and then I happened and everyone forgot.”

“What was he going to do for a hostess before?”

For goodness sake, why was she playing the Spanish Inquisition? “I’ve no idea, and I don’t care. It’s an honor to be asked—to do something a lady would do, not a child—and there’s an end to it.”

“There’s the heart of it, you mean,” Maggie said, and fastened the clasps on the valise.

“What does that mean?”

With a sigh, Maggie laid the jacket of her traveling suit over her arm and picked up the valise. “Come and see me off, at least, if you can walk that far without getting your feathers ruffled?”

“My feathers are not ruffled. I am perfectly calm. Tell me what you meant.”

“I simply meant that you’re in a bigger hurry to grow up than I am. You want to be a lady. That’s well and good—certainly Cynthia and Arabella have proven that it’s blood that counts there, not accomplishment. And now, apparently, you have the blood, so you can be the lady. Good for you.”

She pushed past Lizzie, who struggled with a dozen retorts to this, none of which could make it out of her gaping mouth. By the time she managed, “It’s not that way at all!” Maggie was halfway down the grand staircase, with its portraits and busts set in niches to remind one that there were better things to look up to in this world than the method of getting up or down.

Maggie gazed at her across a gulf so large that her voice echoed against the marble. “One of the first things the Lady ever told us was to put others first. That’s the mark of a true lady, not what’s on your birth certificate or how much money your family has. She has always put us first, Liz. Don’t you think you can return the favor and do the same for her?”