by Ella Edon
“I think my eyes need a rest.” Alexander lowered the book he had been reading and rubbed at his eyes. “She’s got legible writing, but it’s really small.”
“That’s why I stopped a while ago,” Lee commented from across the room. He was lying on the couch with his feet up, staring at the ceiling. “The content in some of those entries was hard to read.”
Alexander couldn’t agree more. After they had updated Lord Crawley on their progress - leaving out the past about Miss White and Lord Tiverton being lovers - the two of them had retreated to Miss White’s cottage again. They retrieved the diaries and started to go through them in greater detail. After a while, Alexander had begun to realize that it wasn’t just the graphic detail of her lovemaking that was making the pages smoke. It was her other activities.
Every so often, at least fifteen times that Alexander was aware of, from the present going back ten years, Megan White had been involved in helping a girl give birth. In two of them, the mother died and was unable to be saved. But the baby survived. Mr. Elliott was part of it as well, being the attending physician. And Rosemary Wray was also present. In all fifteen cases that Alexander had found, the baby was immediately taken away from its mother and sent to wealthier families for adoption or to families that weren’t able to have children. The mother never got to hold her child. Miss White would write how she cried whenever this had to happen, how she wanted to comfort the crying mothers, but she knew that she had to do it.
If she didn’t, her secret affair with Anthony Malcolm would be exposed. Alexander didn’t know exactly what she was blackmailed with beyond this, but he was sure it was something that scared her enough to keep quiet.
It was beyond belief. All three victims had been involved in taking newborn babies away from their mothers, who had no choice on the matter. Had they all been forced into it? From Miss White’s writings, it was safe to say that all of them didn’t like it, but they had to do it.
Why? What had scared them into committing something against their conscience?
“It’s very hard reading,” Lee said as he stared at the ceiling. “Three unwilling participants were forced into helping young women give birth and then taking their babies away no matter what the mother wanted.”
“If they were unmarried and poor, they had no chance of keeping their children.” Alexander put the book down and sat back, stretching out his legs. His left foot had gone numb. “How many did you count?”
“Three, but that’s only in five years. This was about fifteen years ago.” Lee looked at Alexander. “What about you?”
“Fifteen in the last ten years.” Alexander let out a heavy sigh. “It has to be the father of all these children.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“You think one man fathered eighteen children and counting?”
“Miss White, Mr. Elliott and Miss Wray wouldn’t do this all the time, not if it’s clear they were unwilling. Mis White has written herself that she has to go when she’s told, also commenting that maybe they need to castrate the father, so he doesn’t have any more children.”
Lee grunted. He rubbed his hand over his face.
“Eighteen children and counting. This country has probably got this particular bloodline in most of Society’s families already.”
“Sounds like a decent plan to castrate him.”
“It would have been nineteen if Miss Reyes was found out.”
“Miss White knew.” Alexander gestured at the open book on the table. “She’s mentioned Miss Reyes a few times and how she was so unwell. She also said she was going to have to carry out her unwilling duty soon.”
Lee was silent for a moment. Then he sat up and swung his legs around to push him into standing position.
“At least they made sure the children went to good families.”
Alexander snorted.
“What?”
“They made sure the children went to wealthy families. There is a difference between good and wealthy.” Alexander tapped the book he had been reading. “Just recently, Miss White talked about one baby she had given to a Viscount’s family and heard about the baby being abused and treated worse than an animal.”
“Why would they abuse a child they wanted?”
“God only knows.” Alexander rubbed his eyes. “I can only hope the poor thing is alive.”
If Alexander managed to track down the Viscount who had agreed to take in a child and then abuse it, he was going to give that gentleman something to think about for a very long time.
“Maybe this is what she wanted to talk to Lord Tiverton about,” Lee mused. “That she had been taking part in something she wasn’t comfortable with for years.”
“I don’t think that would have made any difference. Lord Tiverton would have stayed with her regardless.”
“You could tell that after a confession?”
Alexander sighed. “One thing I know about Anthony Malcolm is that he’s loyal. He’s never married because the one woman he wanted wasn’t considered suitable by his family and he wouldn’t reduce her to a common mistress. Robert has jested before that his brother is like a monk, and his parents are in despair that their son and heir is middle-aged and will not marry no matter what.” He looked up at Lee. “All because he wanted to be with Miss White.”
“I suppose,” Lee grunted. He picked up another diary and opened it, flicking through the pages. “Maybe if his parents had disinherited him, Lord Tiverton would have been able to marry Miss White?”
“Maybe.” Alexander shook his head. “It’s never as straightforward as you want it to be.”
“I’m just beginning to realize.”
Alexander looked up. Lee was staring at the pages in his hand. His demeanor had changed. Alexander stood and joined the Marquess.
“What’s caught your eye?”
“It’s this entry. Dated the day after Lady Jane’s birthday.”
“The 13th of June?”
“Yes.” Lee checked the date on the inside cover. “This is the year Lady Jane would have been born.”
“What did you see?”
“There’s no mention of Jane being born.”
Alexander frowned. “Wouldn’t Miss White have been present for the birth?”
“You would think so. Instead, she’s talking about having done something awful, and that she can feel it weighing on her conscience. However, she cannot tell or her secret will come out. And…” Lee paused, his finger following the line of written text. “And she had a new baby to find a home for. She had been instructed to give the baby to Lady Crawley with the story that this was Judith Malcolm’s baby.”
“A story?” Now Alexander was confused. “Is she saying that Lady Judith isn’t Jane’s mother?”
“That’s what Miss White is saying. She would have mentioned it previously if Lady Judith was pregnant, and I can’t find anything about her or Lord Tiverton discussing it.”
“Lord Tiverton wouldn’t have known, surely?”
“He’s more observant than you think. He and Lady Judith were close, according to Miss White. He would have known.” Lee turned back a few pages, stopping at a long line of text. “This says that Lady Judith disappeared about the same time she would have gone into seclusion. A letter arrived at the house that said she was visiting friends, that her parents weren’t to worry about her.”
“But if she didn’t go in seclusion to have a baby, where did she go? And where did Jane come from?”
Then Alexander spied a scribble at the bottom of the page. He couldn’t quite read it with Lee’s hand in the way. He moved Lee’s thumb and squinted.
“What does that say? ‘Bert did it again’. Is that what it says?”
“I think so.” Lee blinked. “Bert? As in the Bert who Stephanie Cooper was going to see? Do you think he seduced Judith Malcolm?”
That was when Alexander remembered something that he had seen himself. He snatched up the diary he had been reading and turned to the last entry, which would hav
e been the day she disappeared. He scanned it quickly.
And then it came to him. They had been looking in the wrong place. Lady Judith wasn’t Jane’s mother. But he knew who Bert was.
He slammed the diary closed.
“We need to get back to the house.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain on the way.” Alexander ran out of the room. “Come on!”
Jane didn’t go to her mother. She had a feeling that she would suddenly blurt out that she knew the truth. Lady Crawley would have a fit and there would be a lot of shouting and crying. Jane didn’t want to go through that and ruin her mood. After Alexander’s confession, she felt much better. Like she was floating.
Outside of her family, no one had told her that they loved her. Then again, no one was like Alexander Harrison. He was a gentleman who certainly didn’t fit a mold. A very unique individual.
Still, he was just like everyone else. He wanted to be loved. Jane could love him as he wanted. She knew she could. She just had to find a moment to tell him the same.
Instead of going to find her mother and sit with her, Jane went back up to her room. There was nothing much she could do, and all she wanted was to have Alexander to herself. That wasn’t going to happen right now, so Jane was going to isolate herself for a while. Catch up on the sleep she missed out on from the night before.
The night before. Jane found herself smiling. Hopefully there would be many more nights like that.
Claire was in her room opening the curtains and straightening out the bed. She looked up and curtsied as Jane entered.
“Would you mind closing the curtains again, Claire?” Jane crossed to the bed. “I’m going to have a lie down. There’s nothing much for me to do right now.”
“Of course.” Claire paused. “Would you want some company later on?”
Jane knew exactly what Claire meant, but she played ignorant. She smiled and reached out.
“If you don’t mind staying? I would like to see a friendly face.”
“Of course.” Claire smiled and squeezed Jane’s hand. “I’ll be close by if you need anything. I’ve got some sewing to finish off.”
“Thank you.”
Claire went back to the curtains and was drawing them closed as Jane climbed onto the bed. Instead of slipping under the blankets, she lay on top of the coverlet and shifted onto her side towards the windows. Even with the curtains closed it was warm enough to sleep without a cover. She could already feel herself slipping under. The revelation of her true parentage and Alexander’s confession was now coming out of her in a rush. The temptation to close her eyes and sleep was great.
And Jane fell to that temptation.
She wasn’t sure what roused her, but Jane became aware of a scuffling. Then she fully awoke to a scream and the bed shaking. Snapping her eyes open, Jane sat up. Claire was pinned against one of the bedposts, by a tall, dark-haired figure wearing black. His face had a handkerchief tied over face, obscuring everything but his eyes. He held a black gloved hand pressed against Claire’s throat.
“Let her go!”
Jane reacted on instinct. She scrambled across the bed and launched herself at her maid’s attacker. They landed in a heap, and Jane was immediately thrown off onto the floor. She lay there stunned. Their masked intruder was up again and grunted, curling into a ball as Claire kicked him.
“You get out of here right now!” she cried. “I won’t let you near her!”
The man came off the floor so fast Jane didn’t see him. He collided with Claire and shoved her to the ground. Claire fell, and hit one of the chairs. The chair upended and took Claire with it, landing in a heap. She didn’t get up.
“Claire!”
Jane tried to get up, only to freeze when their attacker turned and strode towards her. The look in his eyes was blazing.
“You’re coming with me, My Lady.”
He kicked out at her face. Pain exploded in Jane’s head. And then everything went black.
Jane’s head hurt. It felt like it had exploded. For a moment, she lay with her eyes closed, still dazed and trying to stop everything inside her head from spinning. What had happened? Why did she feel like she was going to be sick?
Oh, God. She had been attacked in her own room. Someone had sneaked in and kicked her in the face. Her nose hurt the most. Keeping her eyes closed, Jane reached up and gently touched it, flinching as pain shot through her face.
Then she remembered. Claire. She had been fighting off her attacker. Was Claire dead? Had he killed her?
There was a rustling of clothing, and Jane gasped as someone touched something cold to her head. They brushed it gently over her forehead, water trickling down her temple.
“You can open your eyes, Jane. Just take it slowly.”
That voice. Jane knew that voice. Carefully, she managed to open her eyes. And stared up at Robert as he knelt beside her.
“Robert?”
“Your nose isn’t broken, but it’s going to hurt for a while.” Robert stroked her forehead with the wet cloth. “You’re going to have a headache for a bit as well.”
Jane took a moment for her senses to come back. She didn’t recognize her surroundings. She was inside of a cottage, sparsely decorated with furniture. The place looked like it needed some care and attention. And she was lying on a pallet, thin and lumpy. Jane could feel the stones beneath her as if the pallet wasn’t there.
Why was she here? And why was Robert wearing black clothes with a scarf around his neck, another one wrapped around his head? What was he doing?
“What...what’s going on, Robert?”
“You must forgive me for hurting you like that, Jane,” Robert gave her a shaky, strained smile, “But I knew you were getting too close.”
“A little too close for what?” Jane stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Your lover knows what’s going on. So does Lord Surrey. I want them to back off and stop looking into this. They do that, and if Mr. Harrison promises to never contact you again, I’ll let you go.” Robert shrugged. “Simple as that.”
Simple as that? Jane still didn’t understand.
“You’re not making any sense, Robert. And where are we?”
“You’re in a little special place of mine. No one knows where it is.” Robert pulled the cloth away and stood, walking towards the window. “You’ll understand soon enough. I just can’t let Mother and Father know about any of this. If Harrison and Surrey are sensible, they won’t say anything until you’re back with them.”
“You’re beginning to scare me, Robert.” Jane sat up. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
Robert stared out of the window. For a moment, Jane thought he wasn’t going to say anything. When he did speak, it was so sudden that Jane started.
“I love women. Always have. Ever since I became a grown gentleman. I never found the ability to control myself.” Robert grunted. “What I did as a young gentleman would make Harrison look like a monk. I wasn’t careful, either. I should have been, but my self-control never held out long enough. And many women ended up conceiving my children.”
Jane stared. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She knew her brother had been wild when he was her age, but she had never heard about any of this. He had conceived more than one child?
Wait, did he say women? Did he mean many children?
“I didn’t want my parents to go through that humiliation,” Robert went on. “They had high hopes for me. I was to be married to Lady Alice Fenstanton, when she turned eighteen. An illegitimate child would have scuppered that arrangement, and my parents needed this connection. Her father was one of the Dukes closest to the Prince Regent. But it never came to fruition after she ran off with another gentleman—an Earl. But by the time the news reached us, I was already covering my tracks.”
“I... I don’t understand.”
“You will soon enough.” Robert turned back to her, leaning against the window sill with his arms folded.
His expression had Jane shivering. “They all helped me when I needed them. Mr. Elliott, Rosemary Wrey, Megan White. Every time I got a girl pregnant, they would run...interference for me. Elliott and Miss White would help the girl give birth and then Miss Wray would take the children away to be raised by those who had money. Those who could give them decent lives and not ask questions as to who the true parents were. That wasn’t difficult; all these families believed the children to be orphans. No family at all. They were all given a bit of money as well to keep them quiet, and it was all hushed up.”
