What the Marquess Sees (21 page)

“You sound like you don’t believe it.” He couldn’t believe he’d found his voice.

“I honestly don’t know. But what matters is that your father did. It broke him. Made him act out of character. The next thing we knew, he was involved with this group of men who seemed to fuel that hatred toward all things Irish. Her family was run out of town; their house was burned to the ground, their belongings with it. And months later, we heard that they had all been murdered. Among them, your brother’s nurse.

“No one tried very hard to investigate the matter, and your mother was heartbroken all over again. You see, she never doubted the nurse’s innocence, but there was no convincing your father once his friends had got ahold of him.”

Aunt Harriett paused to take another sip of her coffee. The silence in the air was thick with tension. Dansbury struggled to come to terms with his own chaotic thoughts.

Aunt Harriett placed her cup back on the table, and started again. He had no more words.

“I’m sure you realize this was the beginning of our family’s involvement in the Secret Society for the Purification of England, though I didn’t know it at the time. And I didn’t know the extent of their hatred towards other nationalities. I thought it was all political posturing. There were whispers, of course, but I was still naïve and didn’t think men were capable of such atrocities.

“Your mother never condoned his behavior from that moment on. But your father was determined and all but blind to reason. And I’m ashamed to say, it greatly influenced your brother, Edward…He was at the perfect age for it.”

God. Edward. It all made sense, and he hated that it did.

“By the time you came along, your father was deeply involved and as angry as ever. Angrier even. And your mother was well aware of the influence his behavior was having on Edward, but by the time she realized it, it was too late. Besides, he was the heir. Your father was particularly involved in Edward’s upbringing. Grooming him to one day take his place. As one might expect, of course. But you mother…she was determined not to let the same thing happen to you, so she shielded you as best she could from it all.”

Aunt Harriett paused a moment to collect her thoughts again. He didn’t know how much more he wanted to hear. Eventually she continued, smiling softly now, “Around the time you turned seven, your father started to show signs of softening. A comment here. A kindness there. It could have been his age. Maybe your mother’s kindness had finally gotten through to him.” She looked directly at him. “Or maybe it was you—you were such a charming boy, even then.”

She smiled at him with watery eyes. Lost for a moment in more pleasant memories. It didn’t last.

She frowned as she continued, “But your brother, Edward, he was at that age. Not a boy. Not quite a man, but believing he was…that he knew it all. He was fully indoctrinated in his hatred toward the Irish. It was too late, by then, to turn him around. At least, not at his age.

“Then, your father began acting strange. Paranoid. This is when I started to believe all the dirty rumors about the Society. I believe your father was prepared to talk about it to the authorities. To tell them all he knew.

“They left you with me, when they began their fateful trip. I still don’t even know why. Nor where they were going. Or even why they were going. It made no sense to me, but what was I to say?

“And of course, they never returned. They all died on that boat crossing the channel. I didn’t even know they were planning to go to France. It was all so very peculiar.”

Dansbury’s shoulders sagged as she reached the end of her tale. It was a lot to take in. It was almost unreal, like they were discussing someone else’s family. Not his. All his beliefs about his family were shattered, though in hindsight, the cracks were always there.

He heard Aunt Harriett shuffle about, but he had his back to her. He couldn’t look at either her or Bea while he digested all he’d learned. Aunt Harriett sighed again, and the hairs on the back of his neck lifted in warning. He turned and started walking back toward his seat. Toward Aunt Harriett, a warning beating in his heart with every step.

What could be worse than all she’d revealed so far?

“But that’s not all. When you were two, your mother bore another child. A girl.”

That.

He collapsed in his chair. Grateful he’d been standing in front of it. He knew there was more to come. Something monumental. He rested his head in his hands, but listened carefully.

“Your father thought she was stillborn. Everyone thought so.

“But…she wasn’t. Your m-mother…” Aunt Harriett let out a gasped cry then. She quickly caught her breath, and in a rush added, “…f-found a way to secret her away to an orphanage in America. F-Forever. Without any way to ever s-see her again…”

Aunt Harriett sobbed then, great heaving sobs. Dansbury fell to his knees at her feet and enveloped her in his arms. She buried her face in his cravat and wailed between gasps for air. She shuddered and he squeezed her tighter.

“I’m s-sorry,” she managed, “I thought I could say it and remain composed…”

He rubbed her back as he held her tight. “Nonsense, Auntie. Don’t ever apologize.”

She shuddered some more and he felt powerless. Never mind his own emotions, churning just beneath the surface. He was near to the breaking point himself. He looked over her shoulder to Bea.

Bea was sitting straight and tall. Regal, as any Queen. Her chin was tilted up, just slightly, and her hands were gripped tightly together in her lap, making her knuckles turn white.

But what made his breath catch was the sight of her tears streaming down her face.

It broke him.

“I have no other but a woman’s reason; I think him so, because I think him so.”

―Shakespeare, The Two Gentlemen of Verona

Bloomfield Park…

Beatryce’s Room…

The Next Day…

She would never forget the sight of Dansbury crying. She knew as sure as she knew her own name that the sight would be forever emblazoned in her mind. After yesterday’s revelations, she, too, felt heavy and emotional. Lethargic even. And drained. Her throat was sore and her jaw ached from clenching it for far too long. She imagined Dansbury felt much worse.

This. This was the aftermath of grief.

To think of that poor, young woman, for Dansbury’s sister was a woman now. Growing up orphaned, possibly feeling unloved. And his mother. Oh, how she must have grieved, yet at the same time, she had to have had the strength of ten normal men to go through with what she had to do.

Even though she’d never felt the motherly type, Beatryce could imagine how difficult it must have been for his mother to give up her child, her only daughter. It was heartbreaking to ponder, for it was all both a blessing and a curse, wasn’t it? For everyone involved.

How did one come to terms with all that was lost? Even if Dansbury and his sister were reunited tomorrow, they would never be able to make up for those years apart. Missed birthdays. Growing up. A first tooth. A first step. A first love. A first fall.

Beatryce laughed. It was all ironic coming from her. As if she knew what it was like. Ha. To share birthdays with people you love? To miss your family? Who was she to know? She was on her own herself. Always had been, but worse, for her father had actually been around. She would gladly give anything to trade places with Dansbury’s sister. No question.

And she was beginning to know Dansbury. She knew he would have been a wonderful older brother. Protective. Honorable. God, she envied his sister, because even though they didn’t yet know each other, they would. One day they would. And wasn’t that the ultimate in self-centeredness? To envy them the happiness denied them so long through the machinations of evil men.

She hadn’t seen Dansbury since yesterday afternoon’s monumental revelations. They’d all retired to their rooms soon after, and by unspoken agreement, took dinner in their own chambers that night.

Now, it was passing noon of the next day. She’d awoken several hours earlier, still tired, but hungry. She’d been pleased to see a simple morning gown, with all the accompanying feminine garments, lying at the foot of her bed. She’d wondered if they’d burned the dress she’d arrived in. She didn’t think even the best maid could see it properly cleaned. She certainly hadn’t slept in it—it would have soiled the sheets irreparably.

She’d been the only one to come down to breakfast, and she hadn’t seen a soul save for the servants since. And who’d want to see the servants?

Bea immediately chastised herself for the thought. It was an unkind sentiment, even unspoken, and a carryover from a lifetime of influence from her father. It shamed her, that habit. She needed to break it. Dansbury had been right; servants were people too. She hated the fact that she’d been indoctrinated into believing they were inferior. She’d never given a thought of it before Dansbury had pointed out the error of her ways.

And those types of mean thoughts had been ingrained in her for so long, they were now a bad habit…something she would have to work to change. And she would. She didn’t want to be cruel. It would take time, but she was up to the task.

In the meantime, she was beginning to worry about Dansbury and Lady Harriett.

She decided to seek out Lady Harriett first.

* * * *

“He’s been hiding in the library, writing missives since early this morning. I think he’s determined to find his sister.”

“Oh.” Lady Harriett had answered her unspoken question the moment Bea walked through the door to her private parlor. They were now comfortably ensconced in two wing back chairs in front of the fire taking tea. And by tea, she meant coffee. Lady Harriett adored coffee, and Bea found she preferred it as well. Father had never allowed the Beckett family to partake. The childish girl inside her silently stuck her tongue out at his memory as she enjoyed another sip.

Take that, you bastard.

“I’ve watched you, you know. From afar.” Beatryce nearly choked on her coffee.

Well, what did one say to that?

“I’ve noticed what others haven’t—or refused—to see. You are strong. And determined.”

Bea wanted to beam with pride despite the dour mood permeating the air in the house.

“…I realize you were quite, quite desperate.”

Yes. She was. Or had been.

But it was one thing to know it yourself. And something else to know someone else had noticed it, too. As if their witness to your desperation made it all more real.

When you are the only one to know it, you can embrace a touch of denial during the times when circumstances threaten to drown you in your inner turmoil.

“I don’t blame you, gel. Not one bit.”

Bea felt silent tears sliding down her cheeks. Until yesterday, she hadn’t cried since she was fourteen. She didn’t like it. It made her feel vulnerable when she should be spending every minute rejoicing over her newfound freedom. She’d waited an eternity to be so free.

“Lady H…”

“Pshaw. Call me Auntie Harriett.” Lady Harriett looked at her, considering. It was a thoughtful look, though sad as her eyes were still puffy and tinged with red. She handed over a handkerchief. “I like you.”

Now, that was a surprise.

But even more surprising was her sudden desperate need to unburden herself to this woman. To expose her weaknesses and her greatest fears. It was a novel feeling. Beatryce took the proffered cloth and dabbed at her eyes.

“Lady…Aunt Harriett. I-I don’t know what to say. I don’t de…”

“Stop right there, young lady. Don’t you dare, for one minute, think that I’m going to let you suggest you don’t deserve my admiration. I have half a mind to take you over my knee…see if I can’t.”

Beatryce nearly laughed, inappropriate as that would have been. She knew her own worth. She just never expected others to know it. She all but handed Aunt Harriett an excuse to find her lacking, “But with my past…”

“To hell with your past. Maybe I don’t know the extent of your history. But I can make a fairly accurate guess. If I were you, I’d have gone to the same lengths as you to see myself married to Stonebridge and out from under my father’s thumb. Perhaps I’d have taken it even further. I’m sure I would have sent Grace away the moment I met her. Just in case, mind, for that gel is a great beauty to be sure. Knowing I’d have sent her away though? That is saying something because I love that gel.

“But you see, after what I’ve lived through, I know good and evil can be cloaked by complicated masks. I’ve learned the hard way to look beneath the surface. Most don’t.” She looked at Beatryce now. “Pity that. For I’m sure your desperate measures have overshadowed recognition of your true spirit and your determination.”

Aunt Harriett shook her head. “Your father’s mask covered a barbaric, hateful man. Gracious, even his mask was unpleasant, he didn’t even try to hide that.”

“The man was a monster.” Bea agreed.

“Indeed.” Aunt Harriett reached over and squeezed her hand. It was a touching gesture. Then, she carried on. “Now, pull yourself together and find that inner strength I know is in there. And never doubt yourself again, or I’ll be disappointed in you. Might take it in my head to beat you with my Umbrella. Ask Stonebridge. He’s felt the end of The Umbrella on more than one occasion in the past.

“Besides,” she continued, “Dansbury’s going to need you…”

This time, Bea did choke on her coffee. It was bad timing to take a sip just at that precise moment. Did Aunt Harriett refer to Dansbury’s own secrets?

And Dansbury? Need her? “La, I appreciate your confidence, but Dansbury is a strong man.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve noticed. I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that Dansbury has led a reasonably charmed life. Yes, he lost his parents and his brother quite young, but he was never alone. He had me. He had good friends. Other than that, he’s never had to work hard to succeed; it comes naturally to him.

“But by now, he’ll have realized that Stonebridge has known all about his family’s connection to the Society for some time. And Dansbury, for all his charm and easygoing manner believes quite strongly in trust. He trusts openly and completely. So this, betrayal, will be hard on him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he feels a bit of resentment toward me this morning as well…”