"I daresay, Lilliana, you've not much to say for a lady all newly married and happy-like. Doesn't that Lord Ashbourne keep your spirits up like they were?"
James cocked his head to hear her response, resisting the urge to turn and try to rescue her. To his relief, he heard Lily give a carefree laugh that was a fair approximation of Lilliana's. "Oh grandmama, Lord Ashbourne keeps my spirits up indeed. He is most wonderful. In fact, when I fall silent, it's only because I'm thinking about how wonderful he is. And of course, I was sick for the longest time. I've no idea what I caught but it was just dreadful. And Lord Ashbourne, my dearest husband, never once left my side!"
James chuckled inwardly at her breathless recital. Easy, Lily. Don't overdo it. Lady Holt jumped in again to redirect the conversation to a musical concert she and Lord Holt had recently attended and enjoyed, which seemed a good enough tactic until one of the neighbor friends, Lady Dillingham, inclined her head to Lily with a smile. "Lilliana, I remember you have the very voice of an angel. Won't you please indulge us with a few holiday carols?"
"Oh yes!" the other neighbor, Lady Jervis, chimed in, clasping her hands together. "That would be the very pinnacle, Lilliana. Do sing for us. We haven't heard you sing in such a long while."
James turned to see Lily's stricken face. "Perhaps she is still too tired from her illness," he suggested. "In fact, I think it would tax her too terribly. Dearest, what do you say?"
Lily shot him a thankful look and nodded. "I think it best I don't. I am sure my efforts won't be quite up to snuff."
"Perhaps Lady Claire would grace us with a sample of her talents," James suggested.
Claire blanched and nodded at a prod from her mother, even though James knew her to be even less talented than Lily. Poor girl.
"Nonsense," said the old Lady Holt. "Claire's a right botch at music. I haven't heard Lilliana sing in months now." She peered at Lily. "You cannot forbid an old woman such a treat. And you look hale enough to me. Singing is not exactly strenuous. Simply favor us with a few carols."
Seeing that Lily could not now decline, James stood and moved to the piano. "I'll play."
On the way across the room, Lily clutched James' arm. "What shall I do? I can't sing a note!"
James leaned in to whisper. "I'll play very loudly. And very badly. Hopefully that will distract everyone from your voice."
Lily gave him one last look of chagrin before turning to face the small gathering of guests. He cracked his knuckles, making a great show of shuffling through the sheet music until she turned to shoot him a look. He gave her what he hoped was an edifying smile and plunged into a loud and uneven rendition of Greensleeves. Lily stumbled through the words, singing so softly that the dowager banged her cane on the floor and called out, "Either you sing louder, or he plays softer."
"Pardon me," James said with a curt bow, commencing to play a shade louder still. Oh, Lily's singing voice was truly unfortunate, but the darling girl forged on. The neighbors looked at one another in silent confusion. He thought Lady Jervis might have tittered behind her hand. The dowager said loudly that Lilliana surely was too ill to sing, and took a deep draught of her cordial. Lady Holt flushed red and seemed to be casting about mentally for an opportune reason to draw the concert to a halt, when a reason was unexpectedly provided. A shrill voice sounded from the door.
"Mother!"
Lady Lilliana ran across the room and fell into her mother's arms. James left off playing the piano with a jangling chord as Lily went silent. The elder Lady Holt looked at her cordial and shook her head in disgust. "I'll be demmed if I ain't seeing double again. That's it. I'm off the drink."
Through all this, Lily only stared, frozen. As Lilliana and her mother embraced, James stood and moved to Lily, running a soothing hand across her back.
"James…" Lily whispered.
"Steady, my sweet."
"What is she doing here? What is going on?"
"I don't know. But I suppose I must go and find out. Just stay here. Sit at the piano. Everything will be fine."
But his words were wooden and he couldn't quite wrap his mind around the fact that Lilliana was there, standing in her parents' sitting room. She barely looked like herself. Her dress was threadbare and she looked sickly and thin. Her hair was swept up into a messy chignon that was so unlike her usual pristine and perfect style.
And she was weeping, not even considering the fact that she'd just ruined her sister's future with her public display. Lord Holt quietly made excuses and ushered the other guests out, no doubt pleading with them to hold their tongues. Fruitlessly, James knew. He regarded poor Claire. In an hour or less, her prospects of a worthy marriage would be ruined for good.
Soon only James, Lily, the dowager, and the Holt family remained. Lord Holt went to Lilliana and Lady Holt, looking pale and unsettled. The three made a small huddle and while Lilliana's voice went on in a low babble, James could only hear a few words here and there. The upshot was that life on the Continent had been too difficult, and that her husband had left her. How she'd found passage home, he had no idea. How the investigators had missed her, he now understood. This was not Lilliana. This was a dirty, shrill common girl who seemed on the edge of hysterics.
The dowager thumped her cane on the floor impatiently. "What on earth is going on here? Who is that girl?" she demanded, pointing at the real Lilliana.
Lady Holt clasped her close. "This is my daughter, come home again. She was lost but now she is found."
James barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. The dowager Holt turned her astute gaze on Lily. "If that is Lilliana, then who, pray, is that woman, and why does she look as alike to Lilliana as a twin?"
"That is Lily," said James. "A horticulturist by trade."
For the first time, Lilliana seemed to become aware that there were other people in the room besides her parents. She looked at James through narrowed eyes. "What is he doing here? Why is he here with that woman who looks like me?"
"Why don't you ask your mother that?" James said, unable to keep the curt disapproval from his voice. "When you ran off and left us all looking foolish, she seemed bound and determined that we would cover up your poor behavior at all costs. And until now, we had, thanks to this young woman."
Lilliana turned back to her mother with a wounded expression. "Is that true, Mama? You hired a girl to pretend she was me?"
"Hired a girl? Oh dearest, no. I would never-- This girl was dredged up by Lord Ashbourne, from where, I know not."
"Dredged up? I suggest you choose your words with a bit more courtesy, madam."
"See here," Lord Holt cut in. "Do not address my wife in that tone."
"Gladly. If she will refrain from referring to Lily as someone I 'dredged up.'"
"Well, you did!" said Lady Holt. "She is not quality. She is a common tradesperson from the street."
"I will not stand by and allow you to speak of her with such contempt," James protested. "It is through her kindness that this ruse has gone on as long as it has."
"Her kindness?" Lady Holt gave an ugly laugh and scowled at Lily while hugging her daughter closer. "That you can even stand there, Ashbourne, and play the offended party. Why, I am aghast. As if she has not been--"
"Lady Holt, I suggest you have a care!"
"Please!" boomed Lord Holt as his mother the dowager again began to bang upon the floor with her solid cane. Thump, thump, thump, thump--
"What is going on?" wailed Lilliana above the hubbub. "You have all gone mad. And I am here now, so I wish her to go away."
"She shall, dear." Lady Holt nodded. "She shall go at once. She is no longer needed."
"Yes," said James. "She shall go at once. I'll not expose her to one more second of this ridiculous bedlam." He returned to her and took her hands, his lips pursed in annoyance. "Lily, if you please, go down to the carriage and return to Regent Street. I will be home just as soon as this mess can be straightened out, and we will speak then." He tried to reassure her, as she s
eemed positively stricken. "Everything will be fine, I promise. Just wait for me back at the house."
She looked so pale and pinched and frightened. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "There is no need for you to hear all this, dearest. It will only upset you, and it doesn't matter anyway."
"Yes, of course," she said quietly, letting him lead her to the door. He watched her graceful retreat down the hall, and thought she had always been a hundred times lovelier than Lilliana. A thousand times lovelier. Bracing himself for further unpleasantness, he made himself turn from her and rejoin the fracas of Lilliana's reappearance.
Chapter Ten: Gone
Lily scratched in frustration at the blurred words on the paper. Why could she not even do this one very important thing? She must write this letter to let him know why she had to leave, why she could not stay for the wrenching, emotional goodbyes. Now that the moment of separation was upon them, she found she could not face it bravely. She could not let him take her hand and tell her gently why he must do what he must do, and why she must leave. She could not bear the grief and sorrow of looking at his beloved face for the last time. She did not even want his promised flower shop, for it would remind her of him daily. She just wanted to run far away and feel nothing. Her heart was aching too hard for her to bear.
Think, Lily. Think what to write. It had all come on so suddenly. At least she was already all packed. She could not have thought to pack in her current state, but she had her valise ready with a few gowns and her journal and some traveling money, not much money by an earl's account, but quite a bit for a commoner to live on. It would be more than enough to sustain her until she found work and a place to stay. She could not dwell on her feelings and heartbreak at this moment. She had known this day would come, and she thought to herself that it was fortunate in some sense. She would no longer have to await the end, for it was already here, and she was coping. Barely.
She drew herself together and applied herself again to the notecard before her.
Dearest Sir,
I am devastated that your true Lilliana has returned as you always suspected she would. I fear I would only be in the way as you try to untangle this mess and set your life and Lilliana's to rights.
I am too cowardly to stay and give a proper goodbye. Forgive me for my weakness.
She surveyed her crooked writing, so different from his fine, polished hand. She had not his talent for striking metaphorical phrases. But she added one last line because she could not do otherwise.
It is only because I have loved you so much, and I will miss you.
She signed it simply, Lily, and propped the notecard on his pillow, then pried off the ring he'd given her in order to play Lilliana and laid it carefully alongside the card. She took one last look around the beautiful salon, where he had given her such magical fantasy and pleasure. Before she lost her nerve, she let herself out the side door, glad that the servants had been given the Christmas holiday off. She managed to hire a hack just around the bend. When the driver asked her where she needed to go, she hesitated but a moment, and then, in her emotional turmoil, recited her father's address.
She regretted it at once, but the driver took off at such a businesslike clip that she felt unable to have him turn back. And where else would she go? She had no other place to stay aside from an inn or boarding house. She would likely end up at one in any case, but at least she would be in a part of London she knew, and a part of London where she was unlikely to run into Lord Ashbourne or any of his social circle.
Lily's eyes ached from crying and her middle felt hollow and empty, but some part of her began to hope that a reunion with her father and sisters might replace the painful agitation of loss in her heart. She set herself to creating a likely tale to explain her fine clothes, her activities in her absence. She feared her father would jump to less-than-generous conclusions about how she'd supported herself.
She could not tell the truth, that was clear. She would have to claim that she had found work as a governess at a house in London and go from there, based on the tenor of her welcome. So many lies. She was truly tired of it, but she supposed she must apply herself to a few more. Just when she was fairly sure she had her story ready to tell in a generally assured fashion, the carriage pulled to an abrupt stop, and the driver swung down to assist her with her belongings.
"Oh sir, I'm sorry but this is not the correct block." Lily scanned the scorched shells of buildings before her. "This cannot possibly be right."
"Hampstead Road and Tavis, didn't ye say so, ma'am? This here is it. There been a fire somethin' terrible a few months back. Didn't you know it?"
Lily could not reply at all. She only stood in shocked silence and stared.
* * * * *
James refused Lord Holt's offer of more brandy. God, he wanted nothing more than to drink himself to a stupor, but he needed his wits about him. Lady Holt was undoubtedly trying to soften him with spirits in the face of this impossible situation.
Lilliana, home and begging to be forgiven for her "missteps." James had nearly burst out laughing. Missteps? Leading him and her family on a merry chase to the Continent while they slunk around in secrecy for her shame? She had told them the whole lurid story, that her husband had changed when they left England and found themselves penniless and without connections. James thought that was only half the story. In all likelihood it was Lilliana who changed when she realized what common life was like without money or mama and papa to coddle her. Even now, her incessant cajoling and posturing was about to drive him mad. He had absolutely no intention of wedding her when this marriage to her poor sod was dissolved and swept under the carpet, and told them so quite firmly.
"But what of Claire and her chances at a season?" Lady Holt pleaded.
James glanced over at the younger daughter, still sitting by the piano with a resigned expression. He lowered his voice. "You know as well as I that she has no chance now. Your neighbors will talk."
She continued to press him, even over Lilliana's shrill protests. James swirled the brandy in the bottom of his glass, wishing to throw it in Lilliana's face. But of course that would not be gentlemanly, as Lily would say.
Lily. The sooner he could make the Holts understand that he was through doing parlor tricks for them, the sooner he could return and explain to her his decision to make her his wife. Just as he was contemplating that joyous conversation, another visitor showed up.
"Lord Ashbourne," Lord Holt called his name and gestured to the doorway.
What now? he thought, turning to discover the investigator he'd hired to check on Lily's family. His second thought was that it was Christmas Day, and why would the fellow go to the trouble to track him down here? His third thought was that the fellow's face looked terribly grim. When he crossed to the investigator, the burly man suggested in a low voice they find a private place to talk.
Lady Holt looked none too pleased, but showed them to a private drawing room. As soon as the door closed, James turned to the man.
"What is it? Bad news?"
"You might say that."
James gestured to a chair by the fireplace and sank into another chair across from him. "Spill it. This day cannot get any worse."
"I located the young lady's family but they are not… I'm afraid to have to tell you…"
"Just say it, man," said James impatiently. "What has befallen them?"
"There was a fire. Long ago, back in late September." James' breath arrested. He did not want the man to go on, but he did. "They all died, every one of them. Whole building up and burned to tinder back when we had that dry spell. You remember?"
James made a small sound of assent, his throat suddenly feeling too tight to speak. He rasped, "You are sure?"
"I checked and double-checked, my lord, that's why it took me so long to get back to you. I found them all laid to rest in the cemetery down by Greaves, in a family plot with Mrs. Jenny Knox Kendall, who was earlier deceased." He said the name as if it should mean something t
o James, but James only stared back at him in confusion, so he continued on. "Aye well, sir, an' I thought that strange, that your girl's mother would be a Knox, sir, and she looking so much like the Holt daughter, so I went digging through some civil records and I turned up the damndest information. Jenny Knox Kendall was Eugenia Knox before she married."
"Eugenia Knox?" James echoed. The name meant nothing to him.
The man went on patiently. "The former William Knox, Duke of Blandon had two daughters, Eugenia and Evangeline Knox. Eugenia ran off with a common gardener, much to her family's disgust. Evangeline became the Duke of Blandon's only daughter when he disowned Eugenia, and she inherited everything upon his death. Eugenia became Jenny and lived out her life as a commoner until she died in childbirth some years back. She was Lily's mother. Evangeline married Lord Holt and had three sons and two daughters, one of whom was named--"
"Lilliana." James said the word in a cold monotone.
"Yes, sir," the man nodded. "Ain't it a strange bit of business?"
But James was already stalking out of the drawing room and back to the parlor. He strode straight to Lady Holt and faced her in smoldering fury. "Did you know?" It was all he asked. He could not say more and keep his temper.
Lady Holt looked honestly confused. "Know what? How dare you glower at me so?"
"Did you know Lily was your niece? Your sister's daughter?"
He heard Lord Holt gasp. Lilliana took up another round of whining until James silenced her with a vitriolic look. Lady Holt gaped at him in shock and confusion.
"Lily… That Lily?" she asked, gesturing weakly toward the door through which Lily had fled only a couple hours past.
"Yes, that Lily!" His voice rose dangerously in anger. "The Lily you have been using and snubbing and shaming since you laid eyes upon her. She is the daughter of Jenny Knox Kendall. Your sister."
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