Heart's Delight

by Cheryl Holt

  She waved the infuriating note from Mr. Scott in her mother’s face and read the curt, offending missive again.

  “Whatever you want is fine with me. One sentence! One meager, idiotic sentence! It tells me nothing! Will he pay for the wedding? What sort of ceremony does he envision? Should I book the cathedral and invite a thousand guests? Can he afford such an extravagance? Or is he assuming we will pay? When he’s beggared us, how would we? Or should we hold a simple ceremony at the house? And whose house? Ours? His? Has he friends he’d like to attend?” Felicia threw up her hands. “How should I interpret this?”

  Her mother scowled. “You should interpret it in precisely the way it’s stated. Whatever you wish is fine. He’s very rich. If he doesn’t like your expenditures, who cares?”

  Besides her pointless questions about the wedding, Felicia had also invited him to supper and to the theater. But the messenger who’d delivered the letter had said Mr. Scott was out of town, and no one knew when he’d return. Was Mr. Scott away for an extended visit? Should she proceed without him? Should she wait until he was back and could provide input? What? What?

  “Is this how my marriage will go?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s out of town, without a word to me—even though I’m his betrothed. He can’t be bothered to answer my requests to socialize. I’m already an afterthought, and I’m not yet his wife!”

  Lady Stone’s scowl deepened. “Yes, I’m sure this is exactly how your married life will go. It’s the same for every female. If you were anticipating it to be different, you’re a fool.”

  Felicia recalled her parents’ dull existence, how Lord Stone was never home, how Lady Stone was always alone. Months would pass, with Lady Stone and her daughters stuck in the country and Lord Stone cavorting in town.

  Her mother had suffered silently, had never criticized or complained. Her reward for all those years of loyalty was to have lost everything due to her spoiled husband’s profligate habits.

  Was that to be Felicia’s experience? Mr. Scott had insisted he was very reliable, but what if he’d been lying? What if he was actually an irresponsible wretch?

  “Have you ever heard of Cliffside,” she said.

  “No.”

  “He claims he just bought it.”

  Lady Stone shrugged. “More likely, he won it from someone.”

  Felicia gasped. “He’ll move me into a home he stole?”

  “It could be. You shouldn’t ever forget how he earns his income.” Lady Stone expression soured even more. “I’m relieved he’s not demanding you live over his gambling club.”

  “I’m the daughter of an earl, Mother. He wouldn’t dare.”

  “Wouldn’t he? I’ve typically found that—no matter the husband’s station or status—he can pretty much behave as he wishes toward his wife. If he orders you to live over his club, then that’s what you’ll have to do. You’re lucky he has a place for you—despite how he came by his ownership.”

  “Oh, how could Father shame me like this?” Felicia wailed.

  “He shamed all of us, Felicia.”

  “But why am I paying the price?”

  “We’re all paying,” her mother declared.

  “It doesn’t seem that way to me.”

  “Gossip is all over the city that we’re ruined,” her mother whined. “Imagine how it feels to be me.”

  “Yes, poor you, having your reputation tarnished. It sounds ever so much more horrid than my plight of having to marry a man of no name, no rank, and only his gambling and smuggling to recommend him.”

  Her mother sniffed with offense. “We’re doing the best we can, under very trying circumstances. There’s no need to chastise.”

  “Isn’t there?” Felicia gaped at her mother, wanting to shout at her, wanting to shake her.

  The woman was worried about her reputation! Felicia was being forced to wed Mr. Scott, and her mother was complaining about gossip! If that wasn’t complete proof of Felicia being a nonessential detail on the fringe of their family, she didn’t know what was. Why would she sacrifice herself for such heartless, callous people?

  She should have refused to obey, but she had no idea how. If she declined the engagement, what would become of them? No doubt Mr. Scott would immediately foreclose. If that occurred, she would always blame herself for the consequences.

  “If Mr. Scott makes me live over his gambling club, I’ll kill myself.” She paused, then dramatically added, “I take that back. I’ll kill him, and when they’re leading me to the gallows, I’ll climb the stairs with a smile on my face.”

  * * * *

  “Tell us about our parents.”

  “You don’t know? You don’t remember anything?”

  “Very little.”

  Evangeline nodded encouragingly at Miss Etherton. The Etherton family was connected to her own, Miss Etherton’s uncle front and center when Evangeline and her brothers were torn apart. He’d placed Evangeline at Miss Peabody’s School for Girls, having enrolled her under the false name of Evangeline Etherton, when her true name had been Anne Blair.

  He’d enrolled Bryce at a boy’s boarding school and had tried to give Bryce a false name too, but Bryce had been older and wouldn’t use it.

  Over the years, Attorney Thumberton had checked on Evangeline and Bryce for Mr. Etherton, but Thumberton hadn’t known who they were or what had transpired. It had all been secretive and mysterious.

  Mr. Etherton was deceased, but his niece, Eugenie Etherton, had agreed to meet with them. They were in her cottage, in her parlor. Miss Etherton was a spinster who’d cared for her uncle as he’d aged, then passed away. In her forties, she was plump and plain, but very friendly.

  “When you never came to inquire,” Miss Etherton said, “and my uncle was convinced you eventually would, I’d begun to imagine you weren’t curious—or weren’t interested.”

  “We didn’t recollect any of it until recently.”

  “Well, I’ll be…” Miss Etherton mused.

  She’d asked what they remembered about their parents, and Bryce said, “Was my mother an actress?”

  “Yes, on the stage in London. She was quite remarkable—as an actress and a singer.”

  “I knew it,” Bryce muttered.

  He glanced at Evangeline, delighted to have the news confirmed. They both had enormous talent as actors and musicians, and it made Evangeline feel closer to her mother to realize they shared the same traits.

  “She was pretty, wasn’t she?” Bryce said. “I recollect her being very pretty.”

  “She was beautiful,” Miss Etherton replied. “I have a portrait of her that I’ll give you. You can take it with you when you go.”

  “You have a portrait?” Evangeline was a bit dazed.

  “Yes,” Miss Etherton answered, “and you look just like her. She had blond hair and blue eyes—like the two of you.”

  “Was she famous?” Bryce asked.

  “She wasn’t yet, but people expected her to be.” Miss Etherton blushed, as if perhaps she should have kept the information to herself. “I’m sorry. I’m uncertain as to how much I should say.”

  “Please be blunt,” Bryce said, “and don’t hold anything back.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Very sure,” Bryce told her.

  Evangeline added, “We want to find our brothers, so whatever you can tell us, it will help us in our search.”

  “Some of it might shock you,” Miss Etherton insisted.

  “We’re unshockable,” Bryce claimed, and they all laughed.

  “What about our father?” Evangeline inquired.

  “You don’t know? Seriously?”

  “No,” Evangeline and Bryce replied together.

  Miss Etherton rose and curtsied to Bryce, offering the oddest comment. “Welcome to my humble home, Lord Radcliffe. I’m honored to have you visit.”

  Evangeline and Bryce scowled, and Bryce said, “What are you talking about?”

/>   “Your grandfather was Earl of Radcliffe, and your father was Julian Blair, the earl’s oldest son and heir to the title.”

  Bryce shook his head, almost with dismay. “No, no, that can’t be right.”

  “It is, I’m afraid,” Miss Etherton said.

  “How could that be? An earl doesn’t lose track of his grandchildren.”

  “It can happen when the heir marries the wrong girl, when he’s disowned and the family refuses to acknowledge his wife or his legitimate children.”

  “Oh.”

  Evangeline and Bryce sat in a stunned silence, Bryce appearing too thunderstruck to continue.

  “How did it come about?” Evangeline inquired.

  “I’m only cognizant of the details my uncle shared with me, and he had to guess at some of it.”

  “Just tell us what he said,” Evangeline urged. “We’ll sort through it and decide what we think is true and what is rumor.”

  “Your father and the earl never got on. The earl was a hard, cruel man, and Julian constantly rebelled. As soon as he was able, he left home.”

  “Where was home?” Evangeline asked.

  “Radcliffe is in Scotland, near the English border.”

  “It’s an estate?”

  “Yes. It’s small and used to be prosperous. I have no clue as to its current condition.”

  “My father moved to London?”

  “He stayed in London occasionally. It’s where he met your mother. They fell madly in love and wed without your grandfather’s permission. Your grandfather was livid, and your father was disavowed.”

  “Was my father a soldier?” Evangeline asked. “Bryce recalls that he wasn’t around very much and that when he returned, he had two big pistols he would lock in my mother’s closet.”

  “He wasn’t a soldier. He was an explorer and adventurer.”

  “My goodness.”

  “He sailed the Nile and traveled across much of Africa and Arabia. He would be gone for lengthy periods, then he’d show up unannounced and surprise your mother.”

  “So…what happened?” Evangeline said. “Bryce and I were at the docks with our mother. She boarded a ship, and we were separated. Your uncle was there.”

  “Yes, it was a terrible day that haunted him until he took his last breath.”

  “Bryce and I are haunted by it too.” They still had nightmares.

  “It started,” Miss Etherton explained, “when your father was killed at Radcliffe.”

  “Killed!”

  “Yes. It was announced as a hunting accident, but my uncle never believed it. Julian was too tough to die in something as boring as an accident. It didn’t make sense.”

  “If it wasn’t an accident, are you claiming he was…was…”

  “My uncle thought he was murdered.”

  “By his relatives?” Evangeline nearly slid to the floor in an astonished heap.

  Miss Etherton shrugged. “Don’t repeat my comment. My uncle never had any proof. He just…suspected.”

  “What aroused his suspicions?”

  “Your grandfather was very stern and unbending. He wouldn’t recognize your father’s marriage to your mother, and he arranged a different marriage—what he felt was a proper marriage—to a suitable aristocratic girl. Julian had gone to Radcliffe to scold your grandfather about it, and he never came back.”

  “And my mother? After my father passed, what happened to her?”

  “They’d been wed for years by then, and your father had given her money and a house and jewelry. Your father’s kin accused her of stealing items that belonged to the family—the jewels and such.”

  “There was no one to speak on her behalf?”

  “Her only friends were other actors and actresses, so she didn’t have the power or connections to fight your grandfather. She was convicted of numerous felonies and transported to the penal colonies in Australia.”

  Evangeline’s shoulders slumped, and she sank into her chair. Bryce had insisted their mother was transported, but he had been viewing the event through the eyes of a five-year-old boy. They hadn’t been certain, and it was heart-wrenching to have the worst confirmed.

  “Was there ever any news of her after she left? Do you know if she survived?”

  “We never heard another word about her,” Miss Etherton responded.

  “She could be alive?”

  Miss Etherton’s smile was sympathetic and concerned. “I suppose she could be, but you shouldn’t hope for it. It was such a long time ago, and the journey around the globe is treacherous. Many never make it to their destination, and many others perish after they arrive. I’m told the conditions are very harsh.”

  “Of course I can hope for it,” Evangeline loyally declared. “Until I learn otherwise, I’ll tell myself she made it with no difficulty.”

  Miss Etherton looked dubious, but nodded in agreement. “I’m sure optimism will serve you well—and give you peace of mind.”

  Bryce finally managed to emerge from his stupor. “How could my grandfather have hidden all this? How could he have murdered my father, destroyed my mother, disavowed me and my siblings, but there be no accounting? How could there have been no questions asked?”

  “Have you had much experience dealing with the aristocracy, Lord Radcliffe?” Miss Etherton inquired.

  “Some—and please don’t call me Lord Radcliffe. It’s sounds so…pretentious.”

  Bryce glanced at Evangeline who was now a viscountess. They hadn’t wanted Miss Etherton to be intimidated, so they hadn’t apprised her of Evangeline’s elevated status. But the woman had already been aware that Bryce possessed status of his own, and it was much higher than Evangeline’s.

  “A man like your grandfather can be a formidable foe,” Miss Etherton said.

  “I understand.”

  “Your mother was grief-stricken over your father’s death and not thinking clearly. By the time she saw the peril barreling down on her, it was too late to jump out of the way.”

  Bryce asked, “How was your uncle involved in this? Who was he to my parents?”

  “He met your father at school when they were boys, and he accompanied your father on some of his adventures. He loved him like a brother.”

  “So…he helped us after Mother was sent away?”

  “As much as he was able. She begged him to watch over you and keep you safe. She had no relatives and couldn’t seek assistance from your father’s family. They refused to acknowledge your existence, and she was afraid that…ah…”

  Miss Etherton’s voice trailed off, and Bryce said, “She was afraid of what?”

  “That your grandfather might harm you.” Miss Etherton blushed bright red. “Oh, dear me, I probably shouldn’t have revealed that.”

  “It’s all right,” Bryce insisted. “We’re anxious to know everything.”

  “Your father had a brother—George—who was your grandfather’s favorite.

  “An uncle!”

  “Yes. He was the perfect, obedient son as your father could never be. He became the heir after your father died, and his sons moved into the line of succession. The earl wouldn’t have let any of you claim your inheritance.”

  “My parents were lawfully married!” Bryce huffed.

  “Your grandfather and uncle contended they weren’t, that all of you were illegitimate.”

  “We could never prove any of this, could we?”

  “Well you could.” Miss Etherton went to a desk in the corner and retrieved a satchel full of papers. “I have a marriage certificate.”

  “A marriage certificate!”

  “You’d have to establish that it wasn’t a forgery, and it’s been thirty years.” Miss Etherton handed the satchel to Bryce. “Here are my uncle’s records. They include your birth certificate, as well as your sister’s. The marriage certificate is on the bottom.”

  Bryce pulled out a small journal and showed it to Miss Etherton. “What is this?”

  “My uncle kept records of all that transpi
red, and he jotted down information that Mr. Thumberton sent after he checked on you.”

  “Why have Thumberton do it?” Evangeline asked. “Why not come himself?”

  “He was injured in a carriage accident and lost the use of his legs. After that misfortune, it was difficult for him to travel.”

  At the simple explanation for Thumberton’s visits, Evangeline tamped down a smile. She’d wasted many hours trying to figure out why Thumberton had checked on them, why Etherton hadn’t. She’d invented scenarios and plots, when the easiest explanation clarified the mystery. Mr. Etherton hadn’t visited because he wasn’t able.

  “Your uncle paid our tuition?” Bryce asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That was kind of him.”

  “As I mentioned,” Miss Etherton said, “he loved your father and aided you children because of that affection. He merely wished he’d been wealthier. He wanted you at better schools and in better circumstances, but he did what he could with what he had.”

  “I’ve been wondering something,” Evangeline said. “Why was my name changed?”

  “The woman who owned the school…”

  “Miss Peabody.”

  “Yes, that’s her. She was a stickler for the proprieties, and when she was pressing my uncle for details about you, he wasn’t a very good liar. She was dubious over the story he’d concocted as to how he’d come to be your guardian. She wouldn’t let you remain as a student if there was scandal attached to your name.”

  “So he gave me his name instead.”

  “Yes, they decided it should be changed.”

  Again, Evangeline had fretted over plots and scheming as to her name, but there was no mystery involved.

  Miss Peabody had been a stern, grumpy taskmaster who’d never liked Evangeline. Evangeline could absolutely see Miss Peabody demanding Evangeline’s past be hidden from the other students.

  “What of our brothers?” Bryce inquired.

  Miss Etherton sighed, looking very sad. “The twins. Michael and Matthew.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “We all left the dock that day,” Bryce said. “A man carried the twins away—one under each arm.”