“I always thought you deserved to inherit the earldom more than John. I knew you’d do a far better job of it.”
“I think that’s the most wonderful thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Edith.”
It was one word, but it came out with such tenderness that Julia felt tears moistening her eyes.
A split second later, the daughter was enveloped in her father’s arms.
CHAPTER
29
IN THE END, IT WAS NEARLY TWO WEEKS BEFORE Michael was able to arrange his affairs to allow for a few days away from London. He still hadn’t talked to Laura. She had not made it any easier, for she seemed constantly engaged. This wasn’t surprising, because the Season was at its height, and Michael decided that could wait. He wanted to get to Plymouth and speak to Charlie Stains about Julia’s father.
The night before he left, he reviewed his copy of Bradshaw’s railway timetable to double-check the departure time. He looked at the map and the calling points along the way to Plymouth. He could spare only two days away from his practice, but he realized he could take a short side trip to the town nearest the earl’s estate. He decided it was time to see him face-to-face—even without an invitation. He was spurred on by his memory of how Julia had, amazingly, somehow done the same. Her example gave him inspiration and reproof in equal measures. He’d never in his life hesitated to chase what he wanted, and he’d be the world’s worst fool if he let Julia be the one exception.
He had to know if he could reason with the earl. After all, now that the trial was over and the earl had officially won, what harm could come to his lordship if Michael and Julia wished to be together? Michael didn’t know if he could persuade Julia to stay in England. All he wanted was a chance to try, and he would make the most of it.
And so, two hours after setting out from Paddington, Michael alighted from a trap he’d hired at the station near the earl’s estate and walked up the steps to his lordship’s wide front door.
Outside, everything appeared calm and serene, but when a footman opened the door before Michael could even ring, Michael could see that inside, the house was in an uproar.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said the footman. “I heard the carriage and thought it was Dr. Adams arriving.”
Behind him, two maids scurried up the stairs carrying towels and tea and hot water. The butler passed them on the stairs, coming down just as rapidly.
Michael extended his card to the footman. “I came in hopes of speaking with his lordship.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” the butler said, reaching the door in time to hear Michael’s words. “His lordship has fallen ill.”
Michael heard a carriage making its way up the gravel drive. It had barely come to a halt when the door was flung open and the doctor jumped out, medical bag in hand. He took the steps two at a time to the door, giving a passing nod to Michael before he and the butler, by unspoken consent, hurried together up the stairs.
Michael was still mulling over the situation as he walked along the waterfront in Plymouth. Whatever was going on with the earl was clearly serious. Would he recover? If so, how long would it take? Michael regretted that he’d waited so long to see him, even though he didn’t know how he could possibly have come sooner. It had been hard enough to spare these days as it was. He would just have to focus on the task at hand, which was to help Julia. She always spoke of trusting God for the next thing. Michael didn’t know that he truly had that kind of confidence, but he would do his best.
The harbor was a busy place: pleasure yachts, military ships, and small fishing boats all jockeyed for position. Following the directions he’d been given by a helpful costermonger, Michael continued past a rope-maker’s shop, looking for the Nine Bridges Tavern. He found it just past the fish stalls, on the corner of the harbor street and a narrow cobbled lane. Pulling open the weathered door, he went inside.
Two old men sat at the bar, talking with the tavern keeper, who was wiping down the counter. They had the lined and leathery faces of men who’d spent a life at sea.
“Is one of you by chance Mr. Stains?” Michael asked.
“Aye, that would be me,” said one of the grizzled gentlemen. “But you can call me Charlie. You must be the man from London they said would be coming my way.”
“Yes. My name is Michael Stephenson.”
“How do you do?” Charlie extended a hand, and Michael shook it. The old sailor’s hand was dry and callused from years of handling heavy ropes.
“I want to ask you some questions about Paul Bernay. I understand you knew him fairly well?”
“Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” the other man said. His look hardened to suspicion. “Why do you want to ask about him?”
“He’s a friend, I think, Joe,” Charlie reassured him. “Mr. Stephenson, suppose we take a walk? My creaky old bones could use some exercise.”
Michael readily agreed. The tavern was small and dark, and it was clear they could not have a private conversation here.
They went outside and began walking along the harbor. “How are the girls?” Charlie asked. “Last I saw of them, they was just little things. Rozzie, the oldest, was only nine.”
“All have grown to be fine women.”
“I knew they’d be treated well at that orphanage. It had a good reputation, you know. The best possible, although it can’t be rosy for any child to grow up without parents.”
“That’s true,” Michael agreed.
“I wasn’t here when their mother died. I was in the Indian Ocean with the P&O Steamship Company. It was my daughter, Lydia, who decided to take them to the orphanage. She was only nineteen at the time and worked day and night as a laundress. She knew she couldn’t keep them, so she was determined to get them to the orphanage.”
“Julia tells me her father was a ship captain, but the records indicate he was second officer.”
Charlie nodded. “Their mother told them he was a captain.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Marie was a lovely, kindhearted woman, but her head was always in the clouds. I think she was always spinning tales in her mind about Paul’s prospects and what kind of life they’d all lead when he’d earned enough to be done with the sea for good.”
Michael could see where some of Cara’s personality came from.
“I’m surprised no one ever told the girls the truth.”
“Lydia thought she was doing them a favor by continuing the lie. She didn’t think it would matter to the children whether their father had been captain or an officer. She was more worried they’d be heartbroken to know their mother had lied to them.”
Michael thought she’d been wrong to do so, but he didn’t want to put Charlie off by speaking ill of his daughter. “It was a kind sentiment.”
“It’s too bad he wasn’t a captain. Mighta kept that ship from goin’ down. I can tell you he didn’t like his captain. Not many people did. He was a harsh commander.”
“Julia has a memory from the last time she saw her father that I’d like to ask you about.” He told Charlie the story Julia had related about the incident at the tavern. “Do you have any idea what the men might have been talking about?”
“Perhaps. Ah, here’s one of my favorite places for watching the ships. Shall we go up there?”
They had reached the end of the harbor street, and ahead was a short path up a grassy hill. Charlie took the path with more agility than Michael would have expected. At the top of the hill, there was indeed an excellent view of the sea.
“A good place to be alone with one’s thoughts,” Charlie said. “Or to speak confidentially. Mr. Stephenson, I have a theory that Paul never went down with that ship. It’s just bits and pieces I’ve put together from things I’ve heard over the years. Helping out as I do at the home for retired seamen, I hear a lot of stories. I can’t say that any of my guesses are correct.”
“Even so, I’d love to hear them.”
&n
bsp; “What first started me thinking Paul might be alive was a story I heard about an Englishman who lives in La Guaira—that’s the port town near Caracas, Venezuela. The sailor who told me about him said the man is not ‘all there’ mentally. He spends his days at a tavern, playing checkers—that’s our draughts, don’t you know—with anyone who will humor him. Paul was an avid draughts player. The physical description sounded like Paul, including a burn scar on the left side of his face and neck from a gunnery accident. The woman who takes care of him says she’s his wife. He goes by Pablo—the Spanish version of Paul—but everyone knows he is English. I began to think maybe this fellow is Paul Bernay. But perhaps you think that is too outlandish to be believed.”
“I won’t discount anything at this point,” Michael said. “My first task is just to collect any information that I can.”
“I heard one thing about that ship that would explain how it was so far off course when it went down. Some say the ship was involved in illegal activities. It was during the American Civil War, and Paul’s ship mighta done some gunrunning for the South. I don’t think Paul would have willingly gone along with that, but maybe he didn’t have a choice.”
“If the man in La Guaira is Paul Bernay, do you have any idea how he might have ended up there?”
Charlie scratched his grizzled chin. “That’s the part I can’t figure out. Especially as the ship would have been much farther north if it went down in that hurricane like everyone said. The gunrunning would explain that, but not how Paul got to La Guaira. It’s a conundrum, ain’t it?”
It certainly was.
“I’d sure like to know if I’m right,” Charlie continued, “but I don’t have any way of finding out. Perhaps someone who is younger and has the money could go to South America and discover the truth?”
“It might well be worth sending someone there,” Michael agreed.
“I can’t tell you how happy that would make me. I’ve often thought of those beautiful little girls. My own wife died when my daughter was young, but at least we had each other.”
“The sisters became close, although they are very different from one another.”
“They were then, too. Is Julia still the bossy one?”
Michael couldn’t help but laugh, even though the remark made him miss her more than ever. “Yes, I believe she is.”
“And how is it you’re here? Are you a particular friend of Julia’s?”
“I’m here as a legal adviser.”
“Oh. I thought perhaps you had a more personal reason for doing this.”
Michael only shrugged, not willing to say more.
“Look at me, being an old romantic,” Charlie said, laughing at himself. “Well, Mr. Stephenson, I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
The long train ride back from Plymouth might have taken a mere five minutes, for all that Michael was aware. His mind was busy reviewing what he’d just learned.
There was a chance Paul Bernay was actually alive. But crossing the ocean to investigate the possibility was no small matter. Such a trip would require at least a month, considering there was a week or more of travel time each way, plus the days spent on land. The costs, too, would be greater than the Bernay sisters could afford. And even if they could, there was always the chance that the trip would yield nothing except further heartache from dashed hopes if the man were not their father. But what if this trip ultimately united a father with his daughters? There could not be a price put on that.
It was after eight in the evening when the train pulled in to London. Michael was hungry but decided to have a cold dinner at his chambers rather than to go to his club. He was not in the mood to interact with anyone just now.
When the cab pulled in to the courtyard of his building, Michael was surprised to see David’s carriage standing there. He wasn’t expecting a call from his brother-in-law.
David immediately got out of his carriage, waiting with a worried expression until Michael had paid the cabman and the cab had driven off.
“Is everything all right?” Michael asked. “Is something wrong with Corinna?”
“She’s fine—at least as far as the baby is concerned. But she’s very put out with you. You promised to dine at our house two nights ago. She was worried when you didn’t come. She’s written to you several times since then and became positively distressed when she got no answer.”
At times, Corinna’s constant efforts to direct his life were too overbearing. Now she was even sending David to check on him. He said in exasperation, “I went to Plymouth. I had business to attend to there. My apologies for missing what I’m sure was a lovely dinner, but my mind has been on other things.”
“It’s not just the dinner. Have you forgotten what day it is? Tonight is Lady Amberley’s ball.”
Michael let out a groan. Now he realized the reason for David’s worry. Corinna was unable to go because of her advanced pregnancy, but for months she’d fervently hoped this would be the night Michael and Laura announced their engagement. She had done everything in her power to make it happen. But by now, Michael knew this wish of Corinna’s would not be fulfilled.
“Corinna asked me to come by and see if anything was the matter. I learned from your manservant that you were out of town and not expected back until this evening.” David looked at Michael anxiously. “You are going to the ball, aren’t you?”
“I’m not even dressed, as you can see. I’ve just gotten off the train.”
“There’s still time. Nothing of import happens in the first two hours anyway.”
“I will go, but the evening will not turn out as Corinna has been hoping for.”
David grimaced, and Michael knew it was a show of disappointment on his wife’s behalf. “If I get you there, I will at least have done my duty. Beyond that, it is up to you.”
They went inside, and Michael left David to have a smoke and read the newspaper while he changed into clothing suitable for the grand ball.
No, this night would not end as Corinna had dreamed. Michael ought to have warned her sooner, but he had not been able to bring himself to do it. But he knew he had to go; he owed Corinna that much.
From the moment the carriage drew near the Amberleys’ mansion, Michael could see that the ball was going to live up to its reputation for grandeur. Lights spilled from every window, vying with the lanterns lining the drive. There was a line of carriages dropping off guests. Michael and David were not the only latecomers.
Inside the house, all was sparkling opulence. Flowers were everywhere in ostentatious displays. Attendants collected their hats and gloves and directed them toward the ballroom.
Michael entered the fray with a heavy feeling in his stomach. This was supposed to be the crowning night of the Season, and yet he could not foresee it ending well.
Michael recognized perhaps half the faces in the crowd. This was a larger number than he would have known even a year ago. His growing acceptance by society had enlarged his circle of acquaintances considerably. He had seen an increase in warmth toward him in the days since the trial. Tonight, however, he had the impression people were looking at him oddly. Smirking, almost.
“I have a distinct feeling that something is up—do you?” David asked.
“Yes, I was just thinking the same thing.”
At last he spotted Laura. She stood in a little group that consisted of her brother as well as the Brownes.
Arthur Browne was speaking, and Laura’s smile was wide—broader and more natural than Michael had ever seen. It had the effect of making her even prettier. He half-wondered why he hadn’t seen that smile before. It must take more skill to draw it out than he had. With Julia, it had been easy to coax a smile. In fact, it had often come when he’d least expected it, such as when he was correcting her Latin or rebuking her in some other way.
His approach seemed to throw a pall over the group. Browne interrupted himself in midsentence. Laura’s smile took on a different, somehow harder appearance.
&
nbsp; The viscount came to Michael’s side. “I’m sorry to say you are too late, Stephenson. I did try to reach you but was told you were out of town.”
Too late?
Browne patted Laura’s hand, and as she looked up at him, her smile lost the frostiness it had taken on at Michael’s arrival.
The Brownes wore expressions of such self-satisfied smugness that the analogy of cats and canaries seemed wholly appropriate. Michael looked at Laura again, noticing now the way her arm was linked through Browne’s. A surprising and interesting suspicion came into his mind, immediately followed by a sensation that somehow tied together astonishment, disbelief, and relief.
Delaford said, “If you had come earlier, you would not have missed the big announcement. My sister and Mr. Browne are engaged.”
CHAPTER
30
HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!” Corinna moved around the room in agitation. She wasn’t exactly pacing, as her large belly prohibited that, but she was doing the best approximation possible.
Michael had braced himself for this reaction. If it was more intense than he’d expected, he could only blame it on the heightened emotions of pregnancy.
“Please calm yourself, my love,” David urged. “You’ll wear yourself out.” He went to the sideboard. “Let me get you some water.”
Corinna didn’t even seem to hear him. She advanced on Michael, poking him in the chest. “How could you throw away all of the plans we had in place?”
“Her sudden engagement took me by surprise, but perhaps it is for the best that I don’t marry her.”
“Why? What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing! It’s just that I don’t love her. Shouldn’t that count for something?”
As soon as he’d spoken, he knew that had been the wrong thing to say.
“Love?” she repeated, her voice shrill. “I don’t recall that being an issue before. In fact, you seemed quite content at the prospect of marrying Laura. At least until that accident.” She nodded, wagging her finger at him. “That woman got to you. Is that where you were these last few days—off gallivanting somewhere with her? Is that why you didn’t even have the decency to tell me you were going away?”
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