Chapter Nineteen
Later the same day
Eleanor waited for her father to join her in his study. When Sir William entered the room, she was standing at the window. “Norrie, my dear. How good to see you. Will you stay for dinner?”
She’d wanted to be calm and rational when they spoke, but the mere sound of his voice provoked a new bout of crying. “Papa. I need your help.” Eleanor ran to him and buried her head against his shoulder. She’d thought her tears would have dried up by now, but she seemed to have an endless reservoir of them. At length, her father gently pushed her away and led her to the sofa set against one wall.
“Sit down, love, and tell me what has happened.”
For the next several moments, she poured her heart out. She revealed that Hugh was Lili’s father, but she’d never informed him. That Abbot had tried to blackmail her and had most likely set the fire that destroyed much of Hugh’s property. And that Hugh was going to take Lili from the Abbots and not allow her access to her child.
“But why would he do such a thing? In these cases, the fathers usually wish to distance themselves…” His words petered out. Her father was probably ashamed that his own daughter was one of the “cases” to which he referred.
“He believes I willingly abandoned Lili to the Abbots, who, as it turns out, are the worst kind of people.” Eleanor wiped her eyes and nose with Sir William’s handkerchief. “I was unaware of this until recently, but Hugh was deeply hurt when his mother and Adam moved to Town. He viewed it as desertion, and now accuses me of the same thing.”
“Did you tell him that you visit the child often? That your own money helps to pay the Abbots for her care?”
She grabbed her father’s sleeve. “Don’t you see—it doesn’t matter what I say. He won’t listen. Will you talk to him, Papa? Persuade him to change his mind?”
Her father rose to pour a glass of sherry for her, a brandy for himself. “Drink up. It will help.” He waited until they’d both taken a few swallows before speaking again. “Of course I’ll speak to him. Whether I can persuade him of anything is another matter. He is angry, Norrie, and you must see he has good reason to be. Why did you not tell him, love? A man has a right to know he’s fathered a child.”
“He was already in Canada when I learned I was with child. I believed the likelihood of his returning to wed me were slight. I should have told him when he came home, but I kept putting if off. I didn’t want to cause a scandal for him. And I was afraid. I had no idea of how he would react to the news. He might not have wanted Lili or me.”
“By all appearances, love, he does want you.”
“Not anymore,” Eleanor said.
They were both silent. It had started to rain, and the drops were pattering against the study windows. They should be slashing. Thunder should roar and lightning flash. Not this weak display. It didn’t come close to matching the turmoil churning inside her.
“Papa, what if we went to the Abbots, right away, tonight, and removed Lili? We could bring her here, just until I find someplace else for us to live. That was always my plan anyway, to move to a town where I’m not known.”
“Norrie, you know as well as I, you can’t bring her here. Your mother…the servants—”
“We wouldn’t stay long. I’d always planned to move somewhere else. I would need to borrow money from you—I haven’t saved enough yet to be completely self-sufficient.”
Sir William patted her hand. “We need more time to think this through, my dear. Sir Hugh isn’t going to do anything immediately. Besides, even if we brought Lili here, what’s to stop him from removing her from us?”
“He wouldn’t dare! You wouldn’t allow it. I wouldn’t allow it.”
“We don’t know what he would do. You said he was going up to London to consult with his solicitor? Chances are, he will have found out his rights in the matter. We should not act hastily.”
“I don’t want Lili with the Abbots anymore, Papa. I fear for her safety there.”
“In that case, dear, perhaps you should look upon this as a fortuitous turn of events. Sir Hugh has the means to provide for her and keep her safe.”
Eleanor blinked. That much was true. But did Hugh providing for her and keeping her safe mean Eleanor must be cut off from her forever?
Her father sighed, head bowed. “Your mother must be told about all this, Norrie.”
“Yes.” Good God, how she abhorred the idea of that. Her mother would offer no consolation. Most likely she would see this as an opportunity to be rid of her granddaughter for good. Eleanor said, “Thank you, Papa. I’ll dress for dinner. We’ll tell Mama after we’ve eaten.”
Sir William nodded. By his dour expression, it was obvious he dreaded the confrontation as much as she did.
…
Arriving at his brother’s townhouse, Hugh was surprised when Wesley, his father’s butler for many years, opened the door. With shaky hands, he accepted Hugh’s hat, gloves, and walking stick. Despite his ill humor, Hugh smiled. “Wesley, it’s good to see you. Are you working for my brother now?”
“Yes, Master Hugh. Pardon, Sir Hugh. Takes a bit of getting used to. Mrs. Grey—your mother—took me in after your father died. I fill in for Flynn and polish silver and the like. Afraid I’m not much use anymore.”
“Nonsense. I’m sure they’re glad to have you. Would you tell my brother I’m here?”
“They’re in the upstairs drawing room, sir, expecting you. They will be delighted to see you.”
Not likely, but he went up anyway. “Good evening,” he said, standing in the doorway. Adam and Cass were seated next to each other, heads bent close together. Both rose at once.
“Hugh. Welcome.” His brother shook his hand, and Cass stepped forward. Hugh kissed her cheek.
“From your note, we assumed you had a serious matter to discuss,” Adam said.
Hugh nodded. “You assumed correctly.”
“Brandy or sherry?”
“Brandy, please.”
Cass said, “If this is a matter you wish to discuss privately with Adam, I shall see you at dinner.”
“No. Please stay, Cass. I need both of you here.”
When they were seated, Hugh drew in a steadying breath and exhaled slowly. “It seems I am a father,” he said.
Adam beamed at him, but Cass’s reaction was more subdued. “Oh, Hugh. Eleanor—?”
He nodded. “Before I left for Canada, she and I…” He broke off, not knowing what to say. “While I was gone, Eleanor gave birth to a child, a daughter. For reasons I can’t comprehend, she chose not to inform me, even though I asked her to let me know through you, Adam, if there were consequences.”
“You were correct in your belief that a momentous event had happened to Eleanor during the months you were in North America.” When Hugh made no comment, Adam went on. “But this is happy news, isn’t it? You told me at the ball you were in love with her.”
“I thought I was. But how could I love a woman who willingly gave up her—our—child?”
“What else could she have done, Hugh?” Cass asked softly.
“Told me, for a start!” He finished his brandy in a long swallow, and Adam got up to refill it.
“What could you have done from Canada? The Broxtons must have pressured her to give up the child, and she would have had little recourse,” Adam pointed out, handing Hugh his drink.
“She gave our daughter into the care of one Jacob Abbot and his wife. He is the man we suspect set the fire. He’s also attempting to blackmail Eleanor.” He shook his head and laughed cynically. “That is who currently has possession of my child.”
“What are you going to do?” Cass shot a look at her husband before asking the question.
“I’ve been to see Stewart McBride, my solicitor. On his counsel, I’m going to remove my daughter from the Abbots and place her in the care of somebody I can trust, until my house is finished and I can employ a nursemaid. Then I’ll bring her home.”
“And Eleanor?” Adam asked, narrowing his eyes at Hugh. “What does she think of this scheme?”
“As far as I’m concerned, she forfeited her right to a say in the matter when she gave the child away.”
Cass spoke, tears shimmering in her eyes. “That is harsh, Hugh, and unworthy of you.”
“Agreed,” Adam said.
Hugh finished his second brandy and set the glass on the table. “I suspected you would feel that way. You’ve a right to your opinion, of course. But mine will not change.”
“Hold a moment, Hugh,” Adam said, rising. “Have you given her a chance to explain?”
Hugh felt his anger mounting and struggled to keep it in check. This visit was meant to inform, not to discuss. “I have, and I did not find her explanation satisfactory.”
“As a man, you cannot possibly put yourself in her place,” Cass said. “You can endeavor only to understand. The pressures from Sir William and his wife alone must have been overwhelming.”
“I know you mean well, Cass, but this is a matter for me to work out. I simply wanted you both to know you have a niece.” He glanced from one to the other and said, “And now I must be off.”
“Will you not stay the night with us?” Cass asked.
“No, thank you. I intend to start for home.”
“At this hour?”
“I have the carriage. Don’t get up. I’ll see myself out.” He paused a moment on the threshold. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your offer of hospitality. I simply don’t believe I would be very good company.”
“Wait,” Cass said. “What is her name?”
“Lili. Her name is Lili.”
In the entrance hall, Wesley brought his things and muttered something Hugh barely heard. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your mother is not here. A shame, for I’m sure she would have liked to see you.”
Hugh doubted it, but kept that to himself. He donned his hat and gloves while Wesley kept blathering on about something.
“I recall how your mother used to visit Longmere and beg to see you. All the servants were ordered not to let her in. It was a sad state of affairs.”
Hugh simply stared at the old man. Perhaps his memory was faulty. “My mother came to Longmere to visit me? Do you mean after she moved to London?”
“Many times.” The old man’s eyes were rheumy, but still a bright blue. They seemed to burn a hole into Hugh’s soul.
“You’re quite mistaken, Wesley. That never happened.”
“Oh, but it did. Ask Mrs. Godwin or the other servants.”
Hugh nodded. “Perhaps I shall. Good night, Wesley. Take care of yourself.” He hurried down the steps, putting the man’s inexplicable comments from his mind.
They stopped at a coaching inn near Woking for ale and a meal on the way home to Surrey. News of Wellington’s victory at Waterloo had trickled down, and the citizens were in a celebratory mood. Except for Hugh. While he was eating roast ribs of beef and potatoes, he imagined his first meeting with Lili. Would she take to him? Perhaps she resembled him in some small way, although he was certain Eleanor’s looks would predominate in a female child.
Eleanor. Her anguished face came to the forefront of his mind. He paused, fork halfway to his mouth. It was obvious Adam and Cass thought him cruel. “Harsh” was the word Cass had used. Was she right in that assessment of him? He dropped the fork onto his plate, having suddenly lost his appetite. Because something else was niggling away at him as well.
In the carriage, he realized he’d been attracted to Eleanor from almost the moment he’d met her, and since he’d been back, fallen in love with her. She embodied the qualities he most admired: grace, kindness, courage, pluck. And she was a hell of a beautiful woman. Their passionate encounters had been the best of his life.
And he’d thrown it all away.
He’d threatened her, accused her of deserting her child, and told her she was an unfit mother. He winced when he thought of everything he’d said. Staring out the window into the darkness, he told himself it was all true.
Hugh argued with himself, until, at last, the motion of the coach lulled him into a fitful sleep.
…
After dinner, Sir William said he would join his wife and daughter in the drawing room. Eleanor, who had spent the meal pushing food around on her plate and could not have said what she’d eaten if asked, was grateful her father didn’t prolong her anxiety.
“Why don’t you play for us, Eleanor?” her mother asked. “It is so rare to have you here these days.”
“Not tonight, Mama. I have something I must tell you.” Eleanor was sitting on one of the Sheraton armchairs, her legs arranged in the genteel manner she’d been taught, her hands folded in her lap.
Her mother’s eyes grew guarded, almost as if she possessed some prior knowledge of what Eleanor had come to say. “Very well. If you must.”
A footman brought in the tea tray and decanter of port. When they were settled with their drinks, Eleanor began. “You have asked many times about the identity of Lili’s father.” She nearly choked on the words. “A situation has arisen, and I can no longer keep it from you. Sir Hugh Grey is Lili’s father.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “I knew it all along,” she said, leaning forward.
“You suspected, you mean.”
“Don’t think I did not notice the way he looked at you, going all the way back to the house party at Deborah Grey’s country home. He wanted you from the start.”
“He was kind to me when I had no acquaintances there. We enjoyed each other’s company, and I considered him a friend.”
“More than a friend, apparently.”
Eleanor’s hands had come unfolded and now grasped the arms of the chair. “Yes, of course, but there is a more pressing matter to discuss.”
But her mother wasn’t done with the “more than a friend” part. “I saw you, you know, the night of the assembly, right before Hugh Grey went off to North America. He left the assembly rooms, and you followed shortly thereafter. That was when he ravished you.”
“Mama! That is not what happened.”
“This is not seemly, Kitty,” her father said. “It is Eleanor’s private business.”
This was what Eleanor had expected. Why, then, did it tear at her heart? Even if her mother enjoyed humiliating her, she refused to cede her the upper hand. “If I may get to the point, perhaps we can move on from this. I never informed Hugh of my pregnancy or of Lili’s birth. He was unaware until recently that he was a father, and now—”
“He wants to wed you,” her mother said almost triumphantly, eyebrows raised, chin lifted.
Eleanor might have laughed if the situation were not so grave. “Quite the contrary. He wishes to remove Lili from the Abbots and raise her himself, without allowing me to see her. Papa has agreed to speak to him, try to make him see reason, but we have no way of knowing if that will make a difference.”
Her mother was quiet for a moment, assessing. Finally, she said, “We have an agreement with the Abbots. Mr. Grey can’t simply take the child from them. If he does so, it won’t be long before people guess that you are the mother. You’ve been seen together in Society. At the garden party, and the ball. Conclusions will be drawn.”
It galled Eleanor that her mother could never bring herself to use Lili’s name. “Really, Mama, is that all you care about?” She rose and stared down at this woman who seemed to have become a stranger to her. “I asked Sir Hugh to let me have custody of Lili, but he refused. That is why I’ve asked Papa to speak to him.”
“What? Raise her yourself? You can’t do that. Society is a cruel judge, Eleanor.”
“I am aware of that. My intention is to move from Haslemere and situate in another town where nobody knows me. I can restart my dressmaking business there. I’ll ask Jane or Minnie to join me. Their families can use the money.”
After hearing this, her mother’s opinion on the matter did an abrupt turnabout. “If Mr. Grey insists on rearing the child, I suppose that is his prerogative. Your father will ask him to use all discretion. He can invent a story, that the child is his ward. He is her guardian, because her parents were tragically killed in a carriage accident.” She paused briefly, apparently sorting out the remaining details. “He has the means and money to care for a child, much more so than you.”
“You simply don’t understand, Mama. I love Lili and want her with me. That is why I work so hard, why I’ve taxed myself, given up life’s pleasures, so that I could save the money to carry out my plan.”
No response. Perhaps she was using the wrong approach. Eleanor went to her mother and knelt in front of her. “Mama, do you not remember what it was like when I was a little girl? Would you have wanted to give me up? Knowing you would not be permitted to see me?”
But instead of drawing her empathy or understanding, this seemed to make her mother angry. Without looking at Eleanor, she said, “Do not be ridiculous. I would never have found myself in the same circumstances as you are in now. Your father and I were married when you were born.”
Eleanor got to her feet and moved toward the door. “This is hopeless, Papa. I’ll get my things and leave. You’ll let me know when you’ve spoken to Hugh?”
But her mother wasn’t finished yet. “It doesn’t matter where you move, Eleanor, if it’s even possible for you to do so. People will discover the truth, as they always do in these kinds of situations. You might as well send an announcement to the papers.”
Eleanor simply looked at her father. “Papa?”
“You’ve said quite enough, Kitty. I’m sure Eleanor understands your feelings on the matter.”
“I do not believe she, nor you, does. I had an agreement with Jacob Abbot. He was to do all he could to keep the little girl away from you. This relationship you want to have with her, it simply isn’t done.”
Eleanor gasped. “You what?”
“You may as well know. It doesn’t matter anymore. Not long ago I concluded you would never drop the idea of being a mother to that child. So I paid him to do what he could to hinder your visits. It was for the best.” Her look dared Eleanor to protest.
Eleanor felt her legs giving way and found the nearest chair. Her father looked thunderous. “Do you realize what you unleashed, Kitty? Do you know what kind of man he is? He has attempted to extort money from Eleanor, and he is the one who set fire to Hugh’s property.”
Her mother’s face flushed. She wasn’t completely devoid of shame, then. “I did not like doing it, but I wanted Eleanor to face the hard truth of her situation.”
With those words, an even more horrifying thought occurred to Eleanor. “You told him of your suspicions that Hugh was Lili’s father, didn’t you?”
“He needed leverage with you.”
“And you provided it. How could you trust such a man? Weren’t you worried he would tell the world?”
“It was not in his best interests to do so, and he was quite aware of that.”
Feeling steadier now that she’d learned the worst, Eleanor rose. “I’ve been suspicious for some time that Abbot had a hidden motive for denying me access to Lili. How ironic that it was my own mother who was paying him for it.”
“I was doing only what I thought best for you, dear. You must understand that.”
Sir William had been quiet during this exchange, arousing suspicions in Eleanor. “What did you know of this, Papa?”
Shoulders stooped, his mouth sagging, he said, “I suspected. I never knew for a certainty. Forgive me, Eleanor. Had I known, I would have put a stop to it.”
She spun around and made for the door. “I’ll see myself home.”
Her father hurried to the door and grasped her arm. “Let me escort you, Eleanor.”
She shook him off. “No. I’ll ask one of the grooms. Good night.