‘Who is Abigail’s father?’
‘So that’s it. You’re here to see if you can besmirch Hannah’s good name posthumously. You’re hoping she was unwed.’
‘I’ll tell you what I hope. I hope I’m wrong. For Hannah’s sake, I hope I’m wrong.’
Until now, Rosie had been her adversary. Now, a sudden sharp stillness as she focused her attention showed she was intrigued.
Pushing home what she hoped was a momentary advantage, Juliet said softly, ‘Please tell me. You said you had to leave her in the workhouse, but then she got that job.’
Rosie’s face changed as a battle took place and distrust was set aside – for now.
‘It was such a relief to me, her being offered that post. I was allowed to see her before she left the workhouse, and we talked about how those women in Mr Nugent’s household were no spring chickens and Hannah could end up in a senior position if she worked hard. We said goodbye. We didn’t expect to see one another again. I was still earning money servicing the needs of gentlemen who didn’t get enough of it at home, or who didn’t get the right sort at home, and even though the money was building up and I was as determined as ever that one day I’d have enough decent property to call myself respectable, that day seemed a long way off. Hannah was better off without me. There was a chance of her one day being housekeeper to a gentleman. Imagine that! Our Hannah – a housekeeper! I thought I’d burst with pride.’
‘Did you write to her at Mr Nugent’s?’
‘What, and me no better than I should be? No, I wasn’t going to queer things for her. But I told her an address she could use to find me and made her learn it by heart.’
‘What happened?’
‘The following June, she arrived on the doorstep. Literally. She got as far as the steps and collapsed. She didn’t have the strength left to scratch at the door, let alone knock. She’d walked all the way from Birkfield. I don’t know how long it took, but the weather had been rotten for two or three weeks. She was ill with pneumonia and thin as a stick, apart from her belly. She went into labour the next day. It had to be a forceps delivery, and afterwards … her heart gave out.’
‘Leaving you with Abigail.’
‘She was so tiny. She was early, though I don’t know by how much. Everything I’ve done since then has been for her.’
‘Did Hannah name the father?’
‘No, she bloody well didn’t! She wasn’t capable of talking. She rambled a bit, but I was more interested in keeping her warm and conserving her strength – what there was of it. All I wanted was for her to pull through.’ Rosie’s voice had risen. She made an effort and dropped it again. ‘I don’t know who the father is. I’ve wondered about it – tortured myself with it. Hannah wasn’t stupid. She’d already suffered because of my pregnancy; she wouldn’t have jeopardised everything for some fleeting pleasure. Yet the alternative is that she was forced.’ Suddenly her voice was a husky whisper. ‘I can’t bear that thought.’
‘You’re imagining a groom or a footman, and Hannah being thrown out for being no better than she should be.’
‘Why, yes—’
‘I think it was Mr Nugent.’
‘Mr Nugent?’ There was disbelief as well as shock in Rosie’s voice. ‘Rubbish! He never had that kind of reputation.’
‘Why do you think he wanted me under his roof? He likes ’em young. Not little-girl-young, but ripe-young, ready for picking. Why d’you think I ran away?’
‘He used to bed you?’
‘He was going to. He was … “breaking me in”, he called it.’
Rosie’s face went white. Shock and sympathy on Juliet’s behalf? No. ‘And I let Hannah go in your place.’ She looked round, but her eyes were glazed. ‘Hannah getting a good job, and not just that but your job, that was the cherry on the cake for me. I never for one moment—’
‘I’m sorry. I don’t know for certain. If Hannah never said, then no one knows. I only know what happened to me.’
Rosie flared up so suddenly that Juliet took a step backwards. ‘Trying to take it back? You come here, do your damage, then say it might all be a big mistake?’
‘No. Now I’ve heard about Hannah, I’m sure I’m right.’
‘Why did you come here, spreading this filth?’
‘It’s the truth.’
‘That makes it worse. Came to rub my nose in it, did you? Want to make me think bad thoughts every time I look at my daughter?’
‘I came because he’s doing it again. Do you remember how folk used to say he was from a titled family? Well, he was – he is. And the title is his now. He is Sir Henry Darley of Darley Court in Chorlton.’
‘Sir Henry Darley? There was a piece about him in the paper a while back, about the work he’s planning to have done on the grounds. There was a photograph of a battered-looking old folly that needs to be made safe. And that’s Mr Nugent from Moorside? Sir Henry Darley?’
‘The very same.’ Juliet leant forward. ‘And he’s breaking in one of his stepdaughters.’
‘You think I care?’
‘You should!’ Juliet cried. ‘You bloody well should! How d’you think her mother would feel? How would you feel? How are you feeling right now?’
After a bad night, Juliet was up early, creeping about so as not to disturb Archie, who would be out of bed like a shot if he heard her. She was coming downstairs when she noticed the envelope. She picked it up, noting its quality. Her name was written on it in a neat hand. Opening it, she unfolded the letter and instinctively glanced round, as if someone might be watching.
Darley Folly, this evening, 7 o’clock.
Hal. No, he would write a proper letter, and sign it too.
Mr Nugent. Sir Henry Darley. It must be. What did he want? To threaten her? To make it clear that no evidence existed to prove what had occurred all those years ago? He couldn’t possibly know she had guessed about him and Lily. Could he? Irrelevant. She was going to tell Lady Darley as soon as she came home from North Wales, regardless of how difficult it was to gain access to her.
What about this appointment? The old fear rose up. But this wasn’t just about her, it was about Lily. Lily was safe at present, but suppose Sir Henry decided to join his family in Wales? Could she prevent that? Only if she met him. She would tell him that if he left home before the others returned, she would write to Lady Darley at the Imperial Hotel, and surely Lily then would break down and say her piece.
Juliet felt strong and determined, brave even, then her skin crawled beneath his remembered touch. She had to clench every muscle she possessed to stop herself trembling. She was going to face this, for Lily’s sake.
But perhaps she needn’t do it alone. She needed a witness. Cecily? Or – yes, William. The presence of an educated, professional man would surely give Mr Nugent pause.
William was coming for tea, as was now usual.
‘Will he come early?’ Archie mithered. ‘He doesn’t work Saturday af’noon.’
‘Maybe,’ said Cecily, ‘if you’re very lucky.’ She glanced at Juliet, a guilty look, and Juliet knew she was thinking of her own luck.
William wasn’t early. In fact, he was late, which was most unlike him.
Juliet dragged him aside. ‘I need to ask you a favour.’
‘I want to speak to you too.’
And, damn her faint heart, she seized the chance to postpone. ‘You first.’
William flushed. ‘The reason I’m late is I’ve spent the afternoon with Verity. We talked about the future and …’
‘She turned you down. Oh, William.’
‘No. I didn’t ask her. I know I was gone on her for a long time, and I wouldn’t want you to think I was trifling with her, but this business with the police suspecting you shook me up badly. It’s made me realise things … like who’s important to me. I’m so used to thinking of you and Cecily as friends, almost as sisters, that I never realised before—’
Her lungs couldn’t fill properly. ‘William, please don’t—�
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‘What? Not you, love: Cecily. I’ve come to realise what she means to me. I know I’m just good old Uncle William, who makes an ass of himself playing with Archie, but do you think Cecily could ever … well … do you?’
A cold calm descended on Juliet as she climbed the spiral stairs. A mistake to come alone? But she couldn’t have asked William to accompany her, not after he had confided his hopes about Cecily. When Archie was put to bed, she had announced she was going for a walk and hurried out.
Reaching the top of the steps, she opened the door, a flash of nerves twisting in her stomach at the sight of that too-low parapet. She stepped outside, only to have a cry wrenched out of her as her heel skidded and she nearly flew over backwards.
A hand grasped her arm and jerked her upright.
‘Careful,’ Mr Nugent said. ‘It’s slippery.’
Heart banging, she scuttled away before turning to look at him. Older, thicker-set, better dressed, though he hadn’t been badly dressed before.
‘Though why it should be slippery, I don’t know,’ he added in a bland, conversational tone. ‘We haven’t had rain. Well, Juliet – or is it Miss Harper now you’re grown up? You’ll always be Juliet to me. Not that you’re as appealing as you once were.’
‘Too old now, am I?’
‘Bitterness doesn’t become you. I prefer to remember your … gratitude. Do you remember how grateful you were?’
‘I remember being interfered with, and not being able to stop it in case you threw us out of our cottage. I remember not being able to tell anyone, because I didn’t know how to say it and, anyroad, everyone was beholden to his lordship, which meant we were beholden to you, because you were the one who did everything. His lordship never lifted a finger.’
‘As he was entitled not to. Not that I’m following his example. I like to be occupied. My tenants have reason to be glad of me. Hence also my interest in improving the grounds. I gather you met Price. A happy reunion, was it? Dear me, what a vexed look. The old Juliet, or should I say the young Juliet, the grateful girl I used to know, would never have looked at me in that way.’
‘I was never grateful,’ she cried, appalled to find the years slipping away, leaving her stupid, stupid, stupid.
‘Oh, but you were,’ came the reply in that calm, smooth voice from the past, the voice she had never been able to say no to. ‘What would have become of your mother, your poor, sick, dying mother, but for your gratitude?’ He moved away, standing at the parapet, broad-shouldered, head up, master of all he surveyed. ‘Is that why we’re here?’ he enquired scornfully. ‘To reminisce on your gratitude?’
‘I don’t know. You tell me. Do you intend making threats?’
‘Threats?’ The word was a bark of contempt. ‘What need have I to threaten you? You have an inflated idea of your own importance if you imagine yourself worthy of my notice. In fact, the more I think of it, the further your gratitude slips from my mind until I can’t imagine what you’re referring to.’
‘How convenient! I wish I could forget it. Are you going to forget the others’ gratitude too?’
‘What others?’
‘Don’t pretend I was alone. I refuse to believe that.’
‘Why?’ he mocked. ‘Don’t you want to feel special?’
‘Was Hannah grateful?’
‘Hannah?’
‘She came as a maid into your household after I ran away.’
‘Ah yes … Hannah.’ The way he said it left her in no doubt. ‘With Hannah, it was fear. The workhouse does that. She was scared witless of being sent back. She had nowhere else to go, you see, unless she wanted to join her sister in a life of prostitution.’
Something crackled in the air. Juliet glanced round, but they were alone. It was just her imagination.
She wanted to be strong, needed to show she had fight in her. ‘Don’t tell me. Your memory of her is fading too.’
‘I have my position to consider. A title, property, money. I didn’t have to petition for club membership: the secretaries of the best clubs sought me out. I am welcome in the smartest drawing rooms in South Lancashire and North Cheshire. My wife is an excellent creature, a credit to me socially and domestically, as well as being adept at visiting the sick and the provision of food baskets. She is the perfect lady of the manor in all respects.’
‘Including providing you with a ready-made family of three young daughters. I know what’s going on with Lily. Is it fear with her as well? I can’t imagine it’s gratitude.’
‘Fear?’ His face twisted in distaste. ‘Certainly not. Fear is so unpleasant. No, for Lily, it’s protectiveness. She believes she’s protecting Frances from a fate worth than death.’ With a sigh, as of regret, he turned away. ‘She doesn’t realise Frances is too young. But she won’t always be. And then there’s little Isolde.’
Isolde. Her name is Isolde.
You will never ever lay one finger on my child.
She stepped forward, careful even in that moment of the slippery surface. She thrust her hands full onto Mr Nugent’s back and heaved with all her might. It took him a long time to topple. His feet scrambled, but couldn’t find any purchase; his arms flailed and grabbed, but his hands caught nothing. Juliet fell too, landed hard on her knees. Her chest banged against the low parapet. There was a terrific stabbing pain, and she couldn’t breathe.
And then he was gone.
Before she could look down, hands grabbed her from behind. ‘Not you as well, you fool.’
Juliet turned. Stared. She would have said, ‘Rosie,’ except that she hadn’t yet started breathing again.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cecily kept Archie up as long as she could. Normally, she was strict about bedtimes, but if she despatched Archie, William might take it as his cue to leave, and she wanted to hang onto him as long as possible. But when William glanced at the clock and raised his eyebrows in Archie’s direction, she knew she had to give in.
‘I’ll wait here while you put him to bed, if you don’t mind,’ said William. ‘I need to tell you something about Verity and me.’
Disappointment clenched in her stomach, but she smiled and made a show of chasing Archie up the stairs.
‘Can Uncle William come and tell me a story?’ Archie asked when he had said his prayers and she had tucked him in.
‘Not tonight, chick. Settle down. You’ve stayed up later than you should.’
‘That shows I’m a big boy.’
‘Yes, it does. Night-night.’
She kissed him, and he wriggled down in the bed. Her heart turned over. Not so long ago, he had been the only occupant of her heart, but now there was someone else in there as well, and that someone was about to tell her that he was engaged to Verity flaming Forbes.
Downstairs, William stood at the window, gazing out. He turned to look at her. He pulled at his collar. What did he have to feel uncomfortable about? She was the one who was in a sticky situation. She was going to have to act the part for all she was worth. She wasn’t having William telling Verity later, ‘I rather fear Cecily likes me, if you know what I mean,’ and Verity thinking back and identifying lots of little clues, and feeling triumphant because William had been hers all along.
She sat up straight.
‘I’m glad to get you on your own at last,’ said William.
No point in letting this drag on. Better to get it over with. ‘You said something about you and Verity. I take it congratulations are in order?’
‘What? No! Far from it. We – well, we shan’t be seeing one another any more.’
Concern for his distress swamped all other feelings. She leant forward sympathetically. ‘William, I’m so sorry. Did she turn you down?’
He blinked. ‘That’s what Juliet said too. Is that what you both expected? If you must know, I was the one who broke it off, but that’s between you and me – and Juliet. If Verity wants to tell other people it was her decision, obviously I’ll go along with that. Not that there are many people to te
ll,’ he added ruefully. ‘Our walking out together wasn’t exactly something she proclaimed from the rooftops.’
‘I’m sorry you’ve been let down.’ And she was too. Should she be celebrating his disappointment? Looking for her own chance? Offering comfort and pushing that comfort in a certain direction? She didn’t feel like doing any of that. She wanted to give him a shoulder to cry on if he needed it. ‘Verity never made a secret of not wanting to be tied down.’
‘That isn’t why I ended it. I mean, obviously, I always knew she had different ideas to mine about what happens when a couple gets together, and that was difficult. I wanted so much for her to want what I wanted.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘I’m not doing this at all well. I shouldn’t be talking about Verity – only I have to, to start with, because I need you to know I haven’t played fast and loose with her.’
‘Of course you haven’t. You’re the most honourable person I know.’
‘I say, do you mean that?’ He smiled and his laughter lines appeared, then he looked sombre. ‘Honourable?’
‘That’s a good thing.’
‘I know, but … Cecily, I’ve done this all wrong. I’ve done everything all wrong. I thought Verity was the girl for me, but she wasn’t. When the police started investigating Juliet, I was so worried I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I realised it was because … well, because it was more than worry, it was … love. I – well, I …’
She shut her eyes. No wonder he had spoken in Juliet’s absence. He was in love with Juliet and wanted to know if she thought he stood a chance. Pain ripped across her heart. It had been bad enough when he had been involved with Verity, but if he now loved Juliet …
‘… I love you, Cecily. I love you. Do you think you might see me differently, as something more than your friend? As a suitor? I know I’m springing this on you, but I couldn’t wait any longer. And it goes for Archie too, naturally. You and he are one and the same, as far as I’m concerned. Do you think you could give me a chance?’
Her eyes sprang open and she gazed at him, her fingers covering her mouth.
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