by Diane Gaston
No. She could not believe it of him. She could not believe he would make love to her at night and plan to see another woman in the day. That was the sort of thing her father would do to her mother. Xavier was honest and honourable, not at all like her father.
As Lacey finished arranging her hair, her doubts still nagged at her, but something else waited inside her like unplayed notes.
When she was finished dressing and walked out of the room to the top of the stairs, she remembered. She gripped the railing.
She remembered being pushed. She remembered being pushed away by Lady Faville. She remembered being pushed away on a sea wall in Brighton.
She hurried down the stairs. Could she still catch Xavier? She had to tell him. She remembered. After all this time, she remembered what had happened at Brighton.
Cummings was attending the hall.
‘Is Xavier still here?’ she asked.
‘No,’ Cummings answered. ‘Went out.’
‘How long ago?’ Maybe she could catch up to him.
‘Quarter-hour.’
That was too long of a head start. ‘Did he say where he was going?’
‘Bank.’
That was consistent. She could try to catch up to him at the bank—
No, that was ridiculous. She did not have to chase him all over London. She could just as easily tell him when he returned.
She glanced at the stairway and the memory again flashed through her mind.
In fact, there was something she could do first, before telling him.
‘Cummings, I must go out, too. If Mr Campion returns before I do, tell him I am calling on my mother. I will not be long.’
* * *
Phillipa walked alone to her mother’s house, remembering the nights that she and Xavier had walked the same route in darkness. So much had happened since then.
She passed Brunton Mews, where they’d been attacked. This time she smiled, thinking how Xavier had made something good out of the horrible experience, the experience that also jarred loose Phillipa’s memories. And now she knew more of what had happened.
Today, she hoped, she could put it all to rest.
She reached the familiar door on Davies Street and sounded the knocker.
Mason answered. ‘My lady!’ His unguarded pleasure at seeing her quickly changed to concern. ‘Is anything amiss?’
She stepped inside. ‘Nothing at all,’ she told him, pounding those niggling doubts. ‘I wish to see my mother. Is she at home?’
‘She is in her sitting room,’ he told her. ‘With the general.’
‘Of course.’ She smiled. ‘No need to announce me. I’ll just go on up.’
She climbed the stairs and rapped on her mother’s sitting room door.
‘Come in.’ Her mother’s voice.
She entered. ‘Hello, Mama.’
Her mother’s face brightened and she rose. ‘Phillipa!’ Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I wished to speak with you.’
The general had been seated near her mother. He stood.
‘Good day, General,’ she said. ‘I am glad to see you here.’
Both he and her mother looked surprised at her words.
He glanced from her to her mother. ‘Shall I leave you alone, my dear?’
‘No, stay,’ Phillipa said to him.
He was part of the memory.
Her mother sat again. ‘I will not hear you complain of your marriage. What is done is done.’
‘It is not about my marriage.’ She sat.
‘What is it then? A social call?’ Her mother’s tone turned sarcastic.
‘No.’ She took off her hat. ‘I want to talk with you about this.’ She touched her scar.
Her mother dipped her head and looked concerned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean about how it happened.’
‘You know how it happened.’ Her mother spoke by rote. ‘You went to the beach alone and you fell from the steps of the sea wall.’
‘That is what you told me all these years, Mama. But it is not what happened.’
Her mother and the general exchanged worried glances.
Phillipa went on. ‘I followed you to the seaside that evening, Mama.’ She turned to General Henson. ‘You were there, too. You were quarrelling with each other. The general strode away and, Mama, you ran after him.’ She paused. ‘I ran after you.’
Her mother gripped one hand with the other.
Phillipa trembled. ‘I ran up the steps, trying to catch you, but you turned and shoved me.’
A gasp escaped her mother’s lips. ‘I will throttle him,’ she muttered.
‘You pushed me away, Mama,’ Phillipa repeated. ‘And I lost my balance and fell down the stairs. How could you keep such a thing secret from me?’ Her mother opened her mouth to speak, but Phillipa stopped her. ‘And do not dare tell me it was for my own protection.’
‘Of course it was to protect you,’ her mother snapped.
‘She did not mean for you to be hurt,’ the general added. ‘It was an accident.’
‘You were little and you did not remember,’ her mother cried. ‘Why would I tell you such a thing?’
‘You could have told me when I got older,’ Phillipa countered. ‘You could have told me when I asked a few weeks ago. I wanted the truth, Mama.’
‘It was more complicated than that,’ her mother insisted.
‘Were you afraid the story would become gossip? Were you afraid your friends would know you pushed your daughter down the steps?’ Phillipa went on. ‘Perhaps you were not protecting me, but protecting yourself.’
‘She was protecting me,’ the general broke in. ‘She did not want her husband to find out she was with me.’
Phillipa’s mother stood and waved her hands in front of her as if to make them both stop. ‘It was neither of those things! You were such a beautiful child and I had disfigured you for life! Did you think I would want you to know it? To hate me for ever? I was your mother. Goodness knows you had no father to speak of. You needed me. I could not have you thinking I could hurt you like that.’
Phillipa was struck at the intensity of her mother’s emotions.
The general shot to his feet and put his arm around her. He coaxed her mother back to sitting.
She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘It was best you went on thinking you fell, that it was just something that happened to you. I tried very hard not to let you think it would mar your chances in life, but you just had to look in your mirror to know it.’ She shuddered. ‘You were never going to find your rightful place in life. All because of what I’d done. You would never forgive me.’
Phillipa lowered her voice. ‘Mama, I could always forgive what was an accident. What I cannot forgive is how you have kept the truth from me. About this. About our financial problems. About what my father did. About the gaming house. And Rhysdale! I had a brother. You all knew I had a brother and you did not tell me.’
Her mother pursed her lips. ‘You had enough burdens. You did not have to know of all the other horrible things.’
‘She did it to make life easier for you,’ the general said.
‘I did not need to have life made easier for me,’ Phillipa insisted. ‘I have always been strong. As strong as my brothers. I did not need to be treated differently.’
‘But you were different,’ her mother said. ‘You were damaged. And it was my fault! I made it up to you as best I could.’
‘My face was damaged, Mama, not me.’ Phillipa stood. ‘And if making it up to me meant keeping secrets from me and manipulating my life, it has to stop. Do you hear me?’
Her mother glared defiantly.
Phillipa took a breath. It was too mu
ch to expect a simple apology from her mother, a simple acknowledgement that her mother had wronged her. It must be enough that the truth was out. Finally.
She picked up her hat and curtsied to her mother. ‘That is all I came to say. I will take my leave.’
The general walked ahead of her to reach the door first.
When he opened it and Phillipa put one foot on the threshold, her mother’s critical tone returned. ‘Tell that husband of yours I wish to see him. I will have words with him.’
Phillipa turned. ‘You wish to talk to Xavier? About what?’
Her mother blinked rapidly. ‘About this.’
‘What about this?’ There was more her mother was not telling her.
Her mother gave her a haughty look. ‘I wish to tell your husband he is a dishonourable wretch. He had the gall to reveal what he promised to keep secret.’
‘Keep secret?’ She was confused. ‘What did he promise to keep secret?’
‘Bad business,’ added the general. ‘Not at all the thing to break a solemn vow.’
‘What solemn vow?’ Her voice rose.
‘Come now.’ Her mother huffed. ‘Did he not tell you that he swore he would never tell what he saw that day? I suppose he didn’t include that piece of it.’ She jabbed the air with her finger. ‘Why he renewed that promise just yesterday! That goes to show how much he can be trusted. What does he do? Say one thing, then hurry up to do the other?’
‘What he saw?’ she repeated, still unable to believe the words. ‘He saw what happened?’
‘Sneaking around in the dark,’ muttered the general. ‘Spying on people. Had no business doing that either.’
Xavier had been there that day?
‘Well, do not believe a word he says. That is my advice to you.’ Her mother picked up her needlework, apparently considering the conversation closed. She glanced to the general. ‘It is a rare man you can trust.’
Phillipa strode back to her mother. ‘If ever you tell me the truth, I beg you do so now. Was Xavier there that day? Did he see my accident?’
Her mother looked annoyed. ‘Do not act the fool, Phillipa. You know he was there. How else could you know what happened? You were blessed with no memory of it. God knows why he was not at home. A boy his age should have been, instead of spying on people in the dark. He was old enough to know about vowing to keep something secret, though.’
Phillipa trembled inside, but she forced herself to speak. ‘He did not break his vow to you,’ she said, because that was the truth. ‘I remembered what happened.’
Phillipa walked out of the room without another word. If her mother or the general said more to her, she could not even hear it. She numbly made her way to the stairs and paused, holding on to the railing for support.
Xavier had been there the day of her accident. He had seen what happened to her and, with all her struggles and fears about the memories bombarding her, he had said nothing to her. Because of some promise he made as a boy? Surely that did not count over what she had suffered? She’d thought herself insane because of the visions.
Mason was not in the hall. Or if he was, she did not see him. She let herself out, her mother’s words ringing in her ears. Do not believe a word he says.
Chapter Twenty
Xavier hurried the last few steps to the gaming house. MacEvoy had gone on ahead while he stopped at the agent’s office to arrange for the servant interviews. From there he’d made a quick trip to Cheapside to check on the candle shop. The candle maker told him a space had come available that would work for the ironmonger, so Xavier told the man to arrange for him to meet the landlord and ironmonger at the space. Perhaps that shop would be started soon as well.
Three shops. It was a good beginning, but there was always more he could do.
Xavier was finally free the rest of the day, such as it was. He was eager to get home to his wife and tell her what he’d accomplished.
Perhaps they might visit their new house again for an hour or two of lovemaking? He grinned and raised his face to the September sun before knocking on the town house door.
Cummings opened it for him.
‘Thank you, Cummings,’ he said in good spirits. ‘How do you fare today?’
Cummings merely shrugged, but he also pointed to the hall table. ‘A note came.’
Xavier picked it up and unfolded it.
The signature jumped out at him—Yours, always, Daphne.
He certainly had no interest in whatever she had written. He folded the note and climbed the stairs to the drawing room where he assumed he’d find Phillipa.
She was not there.
He looked in the bedchamber. The curtains were drawn and no lamps were lit. Where was she? He was about to leave the room when he spied Phillipa deep in the recesses of a wingback chair.
‘Phillipa.’ He dropped the note on a nearby table and walked over to her. Leaning down to kiss her on her forehead, he allowed his lips to linger a moment. ‘Why are you sitting in the dark?’
‘I was waiting for you.’ Her voice was low and without tone.
‘I hope not long.’ He stepped over to the windows. ‘Do you mind if I open the curtains?’
‘No,’ was all she said.
He tied back the curtains and the room flooded with light. He turned back to her.
She looked pale, so pale her scar shone more prominently.
‘Are you unwell?’ He crouched to her level and took her hands in his.
Her hands were cold.
She pulled them away and met his eyes. ‘I called upon my mother today.’
He braced himself to hear of another cruelty her mother had inflicted upon her.
Her gaze drifted away and back. ‘I remembered something. I remembered what happened in Brighton. How I fell. My mother pushed me down the steps.’
Yes. He could see it all again. Little Phillipa running after her mother who wanted only to catch up to the general. Xavier knew he should stop her from running up the slippery steps, but he stayed where he was while her small legs worked hard to climb after her mother. Phillipa grabbed at her mother’s skirts. Her mother whirled around and pushed her away.
He felt the horror again of seeing little Phillipa fall down the stone steps and land hard on the rocky beach below. He was the first to reach her. He saw the blood pooling under her cheek.
Phillipa spoke and he jolted back to the present. ‘You were there, Xavier. My mother said you were there. She accused you of telling me what happened.’
He nodded. ‘I was there.’ He had no need to hide it now.
She leaned forwards. ‘Why did you not tell me?’ Her voice shook with anger. ‘Why did you not tell me when you knew the memories were returning?’
His excuse seemed weak. ‘I had sworn not to.’
‘You were a boy. Why was a boy’s promise more important than me? I thought I was going insane. Remember?’ She choked. ‘You knew how it shook me. The memories. The not knowing.’
‘I wanted to tell you.’ But honour was honour. A promise was a promise, no matter what age it was made. ‘I gave my word not to.’
‘I despise being protected from the truth,’ she said hotly. ‘You, more than anyone else, knew that.’
He stood. ‘I told you as much as I could, Phillipa.’
‘I thought about this,’ she went on. ‘You’ve kept other secrets. Like about meeting Jeffers and helping him.’
‘I told you,’ he protested.
‘Not when it happened. Only after we married.’ She rose from the chair.
‘Did it make a difference to you?’ His temper was flaring. He was honest with her. When he could be. Not when he’d given his word. ‘Yesterday you did not mind me owning shops.’
‘I do not mind it,’ she shot back. ‘I mind t
hat you did not tell me when you first encountered him again.’
‘I thought it would upset you,’ he admitted.
‘You wished to protect me.’ She crossed her arms over her chest.
‘No,’ he answered. ‘Yes. Yes. I wished to protect you from thinking of that night. At least until I knew what use he would make of the opportunity.’
‘What else are you keeping from me?’ she challenged.
‘Nothing.’ At least he could think of nothing. Only the events of the morning, which he’d not had a chance to mention. And some things that happened in war about which no soldier spoke.
‘Nothing?’ She lifted her chin. ‘What about Lady Faville?’
‘Lady Faville?’ He forced an even tone. ‘She is not important enough to speak of. If you wish to know my connection to her in the past, I will tell you, but I assure you, it is of no consequence to me now.’
‘Are you not going to call upon her today?’ Her voice wobbled.
He spoke through gritted teeth. ‘She is the last person I would call upon.’
‘You planned a meeting with her today. She told me.’
Leave it to Daphne to cause trouble. ‘I planned nothing with her.’
Phillipa looked more wounded than angry. ‘Do not tell me she means nothing to you. I’ve seen her with you so often here at the gaming house. She is always on your arm—’
‘Not by my choice.’
She took in a shuddering breath. ‘She believes you were trapped into marriage with me. She believes you still love her as you once loved her.’
He looked her directly in the eye. ‘I never loved her.’
She turned away.
He seized her and made her look at him again. ‘Phillipa, I care nothing for her.’
She glanced to the note on the table. ‘I was in the hall when the messenger arrived. I took that note from him. I read it and gave it to Cummings to give to you.’
He felt the blood drain from his face. ‘Good God, what did it say, Phillipa? I did not read it.’
‘She says she will see you today as planned.’
