Lucy was nervous all afternoon. It was not in her nature to hide her conspiracy with George from her brother, but she must. It was necessary to confront him when he was not expecting to defend himself.

Dinner was uneventful. The daughters were sober after their harsh meeting with the Duchess earlier that afternoon. Both George and Lucy were preoccupied with their meeting with Harold after dinner, so it was left to the Duchess to carry the brunt of the conversation with Harold. George noticed that his mother seemed much livelier. And that usually indicated that she was hatching some scheme or other.

The plan was for Lucy to invite Harold to their suite on some pretext and then George would drop by unannounced.

“Brother, might you help me with a problem I am having with my novel? I need to pick your brain about some details I need about farming operations. It would be most helpful and should not take very long,” Lucy asked as they were ready to leave the dining room.

“Of course, I was planning to retire to our suite in any event. I feel like having an early night. Adjusting to my new duties have been most tiring.”

Lucy offered her hand, and they held hands as they headed for their rooms.

“Now then, how may I be of assistance on your novel?” Harold asked as soon as they entered the suite.

Lucy was unprepared with questions, as she thought George would arrive before she needed to come up with specific issues to ask her brother.

“Ah… let me see,” she prevaricated, as she leafed through the pages she had been working on. “Oh, my… I cannot seem to find my list.”

Fortunately, George knocked and came in at that moment.

“Your Grace,” Harold said, standing up when George came in.

“Please sit,” George said as he glanced quickly at Lucy.

“Did you need something?” Harold asked, sitting down again.

George stood squarely before Harold and clasped his hands in front of him. “Harold, this is not going to be an easy conversation, and I hope that you will listen carefully before you respond.”

“Sir?” Harold asked, blanching slightly.

“Before I begin, I want you to know that it is my intention to solve problems rather than to create them, so please do not feel threatened.”

This seemed to alarm Harold more than it calmed him.

“What is this about?” Harold asked brusquely.

George reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out the articles from The Times.

“These have come into my possession from an uninterested outside party. He thought it was something I needed to know. And after reading these, I agree. Please look these over and respond.”

He handed the articles to Harold who seemed to turn grey as he read. When he was finished, he looked up at George, and instead of becoming angry or quickly defending himself, said weakly, “I wondered how long it would take before you found out.” He then turned to Lucy. “I am so sorry, my darling sister.”

“Oh, Harold…” she said, going over to him, sitting beside him, and giving him a hug.

“Then you do not dispute the veracity of those articles?” George asked.

“I do not. But might I speak in my defense?”

“That is why I did not dismiss you out of hand. In most cases, there are many sides to a story. I am willing to hear yours.”

Harold stood, pulled down his jacket, and faced George directly. “Of course, I could plead I acted out of a young man’s recklessness. And that is partially true. I could also say that I had been traumatized by the loss of my family in the fire. And that too would be true. But there was another factor that affected me even more.”

“And that would be?” George asked.

Harold hung his head and looked deeply sad. “It pains me greatly to tell you this.” He looked first at George and then put his hand on his sister’s shoulder. “But my adoptive father used to beat my mother and me mercilessly whenever he was angry—which was often. He could, without warning, explode in a rage and when I was little, I had to watch as he battered and bruised his wife and my adoptive mother. I felt terrible that there was nothing I could do at that young age to stop him.”

Lucy stood and, turning to Harold, put her arms around him, and leaned her head on his shoulder.

George, while appearing sympathetic, asked, “Forgive me for asking, Harold, but can you verify these as facts and not just a fabricated defense?”

Harold’s eyes turned cold, and he turned to his sister and said, “Excuse me, Lucy.” And he took off his coat, his waistcoat. Undid his cravat and unbuttoned his shirt, took it off and turned his back to George.

His back was covered in welts, scars, and areas of discolored skin.

“Is this proof enough?” he asked. “This is the legacy my—so called—father left me as I grew older and tried to defend my mother. Is it any wonder I misbehaved? It was not out of greed, but out of a desperately repressed anger so great it would take over, and I could not even remember what I did at the time of my rage.”

Lucy had tears in her eyes when she asked, “Brother, is that anger spent, or does it still crouch within you waiting to be unleashed again at any moment?”

Harold turned his eyes to her. “You need not fear, dear sister. I cannot say with absolute certainty, but after I was cheated out of my inheritance and I took all I could from the house of my dead parents, I felt like a bird released from a cage.”

“But Harold, you were still a thief,” George said, “a lawbreaker, and I cannot turn a blind eye to that fact.”

“I understand,” Harold said, putting his shirt back on. “And if there is any way I can make restitution, I shall. I will do anything I can to keep in your good graces. Can you advise me on how to do that?”

George turned away and began to pace, obviously trying to come up with a solution.

Lucy then asked, “Do you know whom you have wronged? Would you be able to contact specific individuals and return what you have taken?

Harold finished putting on his coat and said, “Many infractions were minor, and I have no recollection of who I wronged. I could repay the money to the person I stole the watch from. And there are many small sums I could return if I could recollect the individuals’ names. But many are lost in time. And as for my father, he is dead.”

“But there must be an estate you could contact,” Lucy suggested.

“There must be, but I would have to find out about that. However, I shall and will make a complete accounting to them and repay with money, although I long ago disposed of the property.” He turned back to George. “But I could only do that if I were able to continue working for you, Your Grace. Is that possible? Would you consider it?”

“There is yet one issue we have not discussed, Harold.”

“Yes?”

“Betsy. What are your intentions toward my sister? You know she cares for you deeply, and I need to know what your thoughts are toward her.”

“I had hoped, shortly, to ask for her hand in marriage. I care for her deeply as I believe she does for me.”

“Is it Betsy you care for or her dowry, Harold?” George asked pointedly.

“I can understand why you would ask that, Your Grace, but believe me when I say it is Betsy alone that I care for.”

Again, George paced and when he had finished thinking he turned back to Harold.

“I do believe you love my sister. I have seen the two of you together, and it is clear to me that the feelings of love are mutual. Then this is what I propose—if you, to the best of your ability, make a definite plan for restitution for all damage you have done, I will continue to employ you as my estate manager. But I will make certain that payments are made out of your wages on a regular basis until all is repaid. Will you agree to that?”

“I will, Your Grace.”

“And further, if you do marry Betsy, I shall withhold her dowry until the very last penny, farthing has been paid of your restitution.”

“But how shall I support her?”

“You may continue to reside at Grayson Manor with her until your encumbrance has been discharged. After that, I will release the dowry, and you may be free to live wherever you like—as long as it is a suitable situation for Betsy.”

“And what of my legal obligations?”

“Since no person was seriously injured by your actions—and considering your father’s behavior toward you and your mother—I see no reason to involve any public authorities.”

“Your Grace,” Harold said gratefully nodding to George.

Harold then turned to Lucy. “My darling sister, can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

Lucy lowered her head and closed her eyes for a moment before answering, “I have to say I was surprised when I learned of your past. But I am devastated by what happened to you and so grateful that you chose to seek me out. I truly believe you wish to make a stable life for yourself now and I do forgive you.”

“And you forgive that I lied about offering you a dowry that I cannot supply?”

Lucy snuck a quick glance at George, and then said, “I can adjust my expectations.”

Harold then took her in his arms, and they held on to each other for a long time, and when they were done, Harold turned back to George.

“Your Grace, I shall begin immediately to prepare the repayment schedule you require and will submit it to you within the week. And tomorrow morning I shall be back at my post as estate manager and serve you to the very best of my ability.”

“And what are you going to tell Betsy of our meeting this evening?” Lucy asked.

“She deserves to know everything,” Harold said. “But I should like to tell her in my own time and in my own way.”

Lucy looked over at George and he nodded his assent, and then he added, “As long as you tell her before you propose. I feel she must be free to judge your actions for herself before she accepts your hand in marriage.”

“I agree,” Lucy said.

Harold bowed his head in agreement.

“And now if you will both excuse me, I should like to retire to lick my wounds,” he said with a slight smile. “I have a great deal to contend with, and I must prepare myself for my new reality. Good evening.”

George and Lucy were left alone. It had been a stressful evening for both of them, and they stood looking at each other and smiled in a moment of relief that it was over.

“I hope this evening has not been too difficult for you?” George asked.

“It was not easy, but it was necessary. Thank you for handling the matter in such a mature way. I believe you even surpassed your father’s wisdom, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Lucy.”

“And now begins the healing—for all of us, I trust.”

“You know, having Harold as the estate manager, frees me to begin my painting again. I have a lot of work to do to prepare for the autumn show. I would love it if you were to join me again in the studio with your writing. I somehow feel our working silently together helps each of us with our creativity.”

“I should like that. I definitely need to restart my writing, and I can certainly use all the help I can get.”

“Then let it be so.”

* * *

After his meeting with Harold, George had gone to his mother to apprise her of the situation with Harold and explained what had been agreed upon. It was only right she should know.

He was pleased she took the news with little of her usual fuss. In fact, she seemed to welcome the news.