Chapter Eighteen
The next day
Hugh had wanted to set out for London immediately upon leaving Eleanor, but the hour was too late, and he was in no frame of mind to travel. Instead, he waited until morning, checking in with Ned and Ridley before departing. The cleanup of the site was proceeding apace, and the carpenters were making good progress on the rebuilding of all that had been lost in the fire. Abbot was present, seemingly hard at work. Hugh sought a private word with Ned.
“I must go up to Town for the day.”
“Oh?”
Hugh did not feel like elaborating. He hadn’t yet decided how he would explain the sudden introduction of a child into his life. “Needs must. I’ll be back in a few days. Have you any idea of where we stand with the kitchen?”
“The carpenters are still working on the cupboards. But we can start bringing in supplies to stock the larder.”
“See to it, would you? And while you’re at it, ask around about a cook.”
“My mother will probably know of somebody,” Ned said.
“Good. The sooner, the better. And maybe your mother could help make a list of the provisions we need.”
Ned laughed. “I can most likely do that myself.”
Hugh took his carriage to Town. He’d purchased it from an earl and had it refurbished, and right now he was thankful he’d spent the blunt to make it so comfortable. Riding would have been faster, but he needed time to collect his thoughts. To concentrate on what he would tell McBride about his predicament. Leaning back against the squabs, he closed his eyes. Eleanor’s countenance was there, as it had looked when he’d left her yesterday. Her face wet with tears, and her horribly anguished eyes.
Hugh knew he’d handled the meeting with Eleanor abominably. Hell, that was an understatement if ever there was one. After weeks of worry about the sadness he always sensed in her, an uncontrollable rage had supplanted the affection that had filled up an empty place in his heart. How could he have been so cruel and judgmental?
But he quickly hardened himself against her. Eleanor had made a series of poor choices, beginning with her decision not to tell him she was with child as soon as she’d found out. She’d chosen to keep their daughter a secret even after he’d arrived back in Surrey and had all but laid his heart at her feet. Despite Abbot’s threats and attempt to extort money from her, and her suspicion that he’d set the fire…despite all that, she’d said nothing.
And God above, he was a father. Because of the adversarial nature of his conversation with Eleanor, he hadn’t asked anything about Lili, and knew nothing except her age and name. Was she a serious child? Or more happy-go-lucky? Did children her age talk yet? Could she walk? Dunderhead. Of course she could walk. Didn’t babies start to walk around a year old? He imagined she resembled Eleanor, with light hair and hazel eyes. Yes, a miniature version of Eleanor, most likely.
He asked the coachman to drop him off in Southwark, intending to take a wherry over to the City. After the footman let down the steps and Hugh climbed out, he touched the man’s shoulder. “John, I have an errand for you.” Hugh handed him a brief missive he’d composed to his brother the night before, stating that he’d be visiting his solicitor this afternoon and would stop by the townhouse later.
When Hugh arrived at Stewart McBride’s office, the clerk informed him the man was currently with another client. Hugh said he’d wait. He was no closer to knowing exactly what to say to the solicitor, but overall he felt the best approach was to keep it simple. McBride could ask questions if he needed more information.
“Sir Hugh,” McBride said when Hugh was finally ushered in. The solicitor asked the clerk to bring tea before gesturing to a chair.
“How are you, McBride?”
“Well enough. Surprised to see you here today. How can I help you?”
Hugh cleared his throat, suddenly feeling nervous. He wasn’t accustomed to sharing his deepest secrets. But this was necessary. “I’ve recently discovered that I am the father of a two-year-old child. A girl. I want to take full responsibility for her. Remove her from her current situation and raise her myself in my home. How can I bring this about? Legally?”
If McBride were shocked, he gave no sign of it. “What is her current situation?”
“She was fostered out after her birth and has remained with the same family since then.”
“Was there an agreement drawn up between the parties involved?”
Hugh shrugged, realizing there was much he did not know. “I didn’t ask. I assume so.” It was likely Broxton had insisted on some type of formal agreement.
The clerk brought in the tea, giving both men a chance to ponder. After McBride had poured and handed Hugh a cup, he said, “Legally, Sir Hugh, the child doesn’t belong to anybody.”
“What?”
“I am sorry if this offends, but I’m simply stating the truth. The child is baseborn. Your name is not listed in the baptismal records, I assume?”
“That’s correct.” Having Lili called “baseborn,” even though McBride meant nothing by it, appalled him. It was no better than “bastard.”
“Would you consider marrying the mother?”
“No,” Hugh said immediately and decisively.
“Is she of low birth? Immoral character?”
This was growing worse and worse, and Hugh had to work at keeping the irritation out of his voice. “No. Not at all. She’s a gentlewoman. Her father insisted the child be placed with foster parents.”
“Of course. Any father would, to protect his daughter’s reputation.” McBride selected a biscuit and bit into it. “The mother, of course, would stand a much better chance of making a marriage without the stigma of a child.”
Hugh spluttered, choking on his last swallow of tea. Christ, what he needed was strong spirits, not weak tea. Eleanor, married? To somebody else? He’d not contemplated it, but surely that was what her parents had hoped for when they insisted she give Lili into the care of strangers. If it became known she had a child outside of marriage, she’d be an outcast in the eyes of Society.
He looked up to see Mr. McBride gazing at him speculatively. “Are you all right, Sir Hugh?”
“Yes, of course. Go on.”
“Would you like my opinion? My unadulterated opinion?”
Growing impatient, Hugh raised a hand and let it drop. “That’s why I’m here, man.”
“Among all the parties involved—that is, the mother, the foster parents, and yourself—you are in the best position to care for a child. I’m correct in assuming that?”
Hugh nodded.
“Then simply take the child by right of power and money.”
“What about the agreement?”
“Most such agreements would surely stipulate that the child could be reclaimed at any time. Unless the mother truly wished to rule out having any part in her life. Is that the case here?”
“It is not the case.” Hugh scrubbed a hand across his face. “I simply want to ensure that neither the mother, nor the grandparents, nor the foster parents, can legally take the child away from me.”
McBride let out a sigh. “So the mother does want to be involved in her child’s life? And you object to that?”
“Yes.”
“Might you ever change your mind?”
“No.” Hugh felt McBride’s eyes studying him.
“Are you certain of that?”
“I am. In any case, that’s not actually germane to the fundamental question. Which is: Can I legally remove my daughter from the foster parents? And restrict her mother’s access to her?”
“As I said, a baseborn child legally belongs to nobody. By the fact of your wealth, your reputation, your standing in the community, I believe you can.” McBride hesitated, again directing his assessing gaze at Hugh. “However, I would weigh carefully the benefits of separating a mother from her child. It could do irreparable harm to them both.”
Hugh rose and held out his hand. “I must be the judge of that. Thank you for seeing me today. Your counsel has been very helpful.”
McBride shook his hand and walked with him to the door. “I’ve worked for your family a long time, Sir Hugh, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I offer a piece of advice. I would urge you not to act in haste and to consider all the ramifications of your actions. Do nothing until you are in a more calm and rational state of mind.”
Hugh nodded curtly. He walked toward the river. His mouth was hard and his jaw set. By God, he was doing what was right, and nothing would throw him off course. McBride could go to hell.