The Forsaken (Echoes from the Past Book 4)

by Irina Shapiro

  “She might be with child already. She’s proven herself to be fertile.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  The bishop sighed with impatience. “If she has a son, the succession is assured, and if she bears a daughter, Edward might still be persuaded to put her aside and marry elsewhere. Bide your time, brother. Edward needs you. He needs your support. You are the ‘Kingmaker’. He might have strayed, but he’ll always remember what you’ve done for him. Accept this situation and find a way to turn it to your advantage.”

  Warwick’s reply was softer, more reasonable. “I plan to. I made him a king, and I can just as easily unmake him if he humiliates me like that again.”

  “Careful there, Dick. Careful,” the bishop advised him in a soothing tone. “You were always quick to anger, but we can still benefit from this. You can benefit from this.”

  “Well, you know what the price of my allegiance is, George, and it had best get paid in full.”

  Guy and Anthony stood to attention as Warwick strode past them with a brief nod of acknowledgment. The bishop followed, his robes billowing behind him in the draft from the nearest window.

  “Let’s go find some wine,” Sir Anthony suggested. “We’re no longer needed here.”

  Guy followed Anthony, who had a nose for food and drink and always managed to get them fed and watered.

  “I do hope we remain at Westminster for a while,” Sir Anthony said as he settled himself before a fire in one of the salons and called for refreshments. “I like it here.”

  “Why?” Guy asked.

  “Because it beats traipsing through mud and eating gruel in the barren fields of Godforsaken Scotland, or putting down rebellions and starving the enemy, and ourselves, in the equally inhospitable north. Here, there is ample food, lovely women, and endless intrigue. I’m in heaven.” He sighed theatrically.

  “I’m from the north,” Guy retorted, offended.

  “I know, Guy, but you’re slightly less savage than some other Northumbrians I know. You’re almost good company.” Anthony chuckled and slapped Guy on the back. “I’d like to skulk here long enough to discover what our diabolical earl has in store for the comely Elizabeth Woodville.”

  Guy accepted a cup of wine from a serving wench and stared into the leaping flames. He stretched his feet out toward the hearth and took a long pull of wine while Anthony flirted with the girl, plying her with compliments and making her blush prettily. Anthony was bent on seduction, and Guy wasn’t about to interrupt, given that the girl seemed to enjoy Anthony’s attentions. Instead, Guy pondered what Anthony had said.

  Diabolical. Surely Anthony was judging the earl too harshly. Guy liked and respected the man, and had seen for himself how much Warwick had sacrificed to keep Edward firmly on the throne. He’d worked tirelessly for the king, only to find himself deceived and humiliated by the very man he’d trusted. Edward had wed Elizabeth Woodville at the beginning of May, but kept the marriage a secret for nearly six months, allowing his cousin to negotiate on his behalf and make promises that could no longer be honored. Warwick felt a fool, and he wasn’t a man who’d tolerate being made a laughingstock. The palace was rife with tension, the halls devoid of laughter and gossip, at least when Warwick was around.

  Anthony might enjoy the politicking, but Guy wanted no part of the scheming that went on every day, behind nearly every door. He suddenly missed home with an ache that pierced his heart. He missed the cold, inhospitable north, and he missed his family, even Hugh. His year in Warwick’s service was almost up. Perhaps it was time to return home.

  Chapter 51

  August 2014

  London, England

  Sun streamed through the window, falling on Emma’s princess bed linens and caressing Mr. Rabbit’s face. He looked forlorn sitting there on the bed, waiting for Emma to return from school.

  Quinn reached for the bunny and stroked his long ears. How long would it be before Emma outgrew her favorite toy and began to take an interest in more ‘big girl’ things? Brenda, who had two teenage sons, said that turning five had been the turning point for her boys, a time when they’d begun to leave babyish things behind and long for more grown-up toys and activities. Would it be the same for Emma? The thought made Quinn melancholy. She wished she’d known Emma when she was a baby, and then a toddler. She’d missed out on all the sweet things that came with babyhood. Of course, she’d never have wished for Emma to lose her mother sooner, but had Jenna been honest with Gabe, he’d have become a dad a lot sooner, and Quinn would have known Emma, if not had the chance to raise her.

  As she replaced the rabbit on the bed and finished putting away Emma’s clean clothes, Quinn wondered if Emma would be jealous of the new baby. Would she act out, or would she love her sibling and feel lucky to have a brother or a sister? Quinn had longed for a sibling all her life. Funny that now that she had three, or four if you counted Quentin, she didn’t feel any of the joy and camaraderie she’d thought she would—but then again, she hadn’t grown up with any of them, so perhaps it was too late to establish that sort of bond.

  Quinn closed the drawer and let herself out of the room. She headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. She had to remind herself to drink enough during the day since Gabe wasn’t there to shove a glass in her hand every few hours. She smiled. Gabe fussed over her like a mother hen, and when she didn’t want to throttle him, she liked it.

  Quinn poured herself a glass of mineral water and added a slice of lemon. A bit of vitamin C couldn’t hurt. Her mobile began to vibrate on the counter. It was Logan. She set the glass down, afraid to spill her drink. Her hand shook with trepidation as she reached for the phone. Logan had promised to call once he and Colin left Leicester, and as it was already late afternoon, this had to be the call she had been waiting for.

  “Logan. At last. Any joy?” Quinn asked. She took her mineral water, walked over to the kitchen table, and sat down.

  “Yes and no,” Logan replied. He sounded pleased, so she let him talk. “Colin is driving, so I’ll give you the rundown. The files are still stored on site, albeit in the cellar. Colin had no difficulty gaining access once he showed his identification and explained the situation. Finding the file proved to be the difficult part. I wasn’t allowed in, obviously, so Colin had to go it alone, poor dear,” he said, and Quinn could hear him smiling. “The records are filed alphabetically, and since Quentin didn’t have a surname at the time of admittance, it took some doing. Colin had to go through all the files for 1983 before he found it. It was filed under ‘X’, as in ‘Quentin X’.”

  “So, what did it say?” Quinn asked, breathless with anticipation.

  “Baby Q had surgery on October first, 1983. Colin says the surgery went well and there were no complications. She was discharged from hospital on October sixteenth into the care of Mrs. McGee. As luck would have it, Mrs. McGee still resides at the same address, so Colin and I paid her a visit. Lovely old girl,” Logan added. “She and the late Mr. McGee fostered dozens of children in the eighties and nineties, and she still keeps in touch with most of them.”

  Quinn sighed with relief. It was nice to know Quentin had been looked after by someone caring. Foster children wouldn’t bother to stay in touch with someone who’d been unkind to them, or treated them as a nuisance. “How long did Quentin stay with Mrs. McGee?”

  “Not long. About two months.”

  “Where did she go after that?” Quinn asked. Two months seemed like a very short time to stay with a foster family. Adoption was a lengthy process.

  “You are going to love this,” Logan said as he drew out the suspense. “Quentin was adopted by Dr. Ian Crawford, the very man who operated on her. The adoption went through very quickly, because, let’s face it, what better home could this child have asked for?”

  “That’s very fortunate,” Quinn exclaimed. “So, we are looking for Quentin Crawford?”

  “Well, that’s where things get a bit muddled, love,” Logan replied, obviously getti
ng to the not-so-successful part of the story. “We looked up Dr. Crawford and found that he’s deceased. Died two years ago at the age of eighty-three. The obituary mentioned his children, Michael and Karen, who both happen to be doctors. We found them online, and even if Quentin became Michael—which could happen, you know—or if her parents changed her name to Karen, neither one is the right age. They are both in their late forties.”

  “And there are no listings for Quentin Crawford?” Quinn asked, her heart sinking.

  “Sorry, no. They might have renamed her, of course,” Logan suggested. “There are other Crawfords in Leicester, but we didn’t have time to look them all up. I think your best bet would be to contact Michael and Karen Crawford and find out what happened to their sister.”

  “Thank you, Logan, and give my love to Colin. You guys are the best.”

  “It was our pleasure, sis. After all, she’s my sister too. I’ll gladly come with you to speak to the Crawfords when you’re ready.”

  “I’d like that,” Quinn replied. She ended the call and propped her cheek with her hand while she mulled over what Logan had said. She supposed the expedition to Leicester had gone as well as could be expected. Logan and Colin had found out more than she would have ever discovered on her own. Rome wasn’t built in a day, Quinn thought to herself, smiling at the saying.

  So far, they’d laid the foundation. Quentin had had a successful surgery, had spent time in foster care—evidence of her well-being—and had then been adopted by a prominent surgeon. It was highly possible that the Crawfords had decided to choose a different name, unlike Quinn’s own parents who’d retained Quinn’s birth name. Perhaps they’d worried that Quentin’s mother would return for her and wanted to leave no trail to follow. They had no way of knowing that Sylvia never attempted to look for her daughters.

  Quinn took a sip of her mineral water and leaned back in her chair, feeling more relaxed than she’d felt since finding out about her twin. Quentin was out there somewhere, and they would find her.

  She vacated her chair when she heard the scrape of a key in the lock. Gabe and Emma were home. Emma’s birthday party was next weekend, but this weekend they were free.

  Quinn gave Emma a hug and kissed Gabe, wrapping her arms about his neck and smiling into his eyes. “Fancy a ride to Leicester tomorrow?” she purred.

  “Not really, but I know you won’t give me a moment’s peace until we go, so yeah, sure.” He kissed her soundly and held her close. “Fill me in over dinner. I’m starving. Didn’t have time for lunch today,” he explained as he loosened his tie.

  “Why are we going to Leicester?” Emma asked, looking up at the two of them, her eyes round with curiosity. “Does it have anything to do with my birthday?”

  “No, darling,” Quinn replied, “but it does have something to do with mine.”

  Emma exhaled loudly in disappointment. “I still want a puppy, you know,” she reminded them before going to wash her hands.

  “We know,” Gabe and Quinn replied in unison.

  Chapter 52

  August 2014

  Leicester, Leicestershire

  The sunshine of the previous day had given way to pissing rain, making the drive to Leicester less than picturesque. Emma was huddled in her child seat, disgruntled at having to go on this boring expedition the weekend before her party instead of shopping for a new frock and picking out party favors. Quinn had promised her they would do all that tomorrow, but Emma was determined to sulk. Gabe hardly spoke on the drive, no doubt worrying about the outcome of their enquiry. Regardless of what they discovered today, the search was just beginning, and wouldn’t end until Quinn found her sister.

  Only Logan was chipper as ever, prattling on about his job and making funny faces at Emma to cajole her out of her bad mood. He’d instantly agreed to come back to Leicester when Quinn texted him, but made excuses for Colin, saying his boyfriend had plans with his mum. Quinn was grateful to Logan for his support and his cheer, particularly because they were genuine.

  “Are you not rattled by any of this?” Quinn had asked when they spoke last night.

  “Nope. Why should I be?”

  “Quentin is your sister too, as you pointed out earlier.”

  “If we find her, I’ll be thrilled to meet her and get to know her. But if we don’t, I’ll go on with my life as before. I can’t feel a sense of loss over someone I’ve never met.”

  “But what about your mother?” Quinn had persisted. “Will this not change your relationship with her?”

  “Not in the least,” Logan had replied. “She did what she did. Period. What’s the point of judging her now, thirty-one years after the fact? She’s my mother, and my mother she will remain. It’s different for me, Quinn. She never abandoned me. She loved me and raised me, regardless of what she’d done in the past. I understand how you feel about her, and I won’t like you any less if you never want to speak to her again.”

  “Really? You won’t resent me?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “What about Jude?”

  “What about him?” Logan had asked.

  “Does he know about Quentin? Does he care? Does he have any thoughts on my relationship with Sylvia?”

  “Jude doesn’t know. Mum didn’t tell him, and I saw no reason to apprise him of the situation. Jude has his own demons to battle, as I’m sure you know. Once we find Quentin, I’ll fill him in. As far as you and Mum go, I don’t think he cares one way or another. Jude’s too self-absorbed to give either of you much thought.”

  Put like that, Quinn had felt more at ease. She hadn’t spoken to Sylvia and she owed Jude no phone call. If Logan didn’t find it necessary to tell him about Quentin, then she had no business calling him either. She would call Seth though, after they returned from Leicester.

  The rain tapered off as they approached Leicester and the sun eventually came out, drying out the sidewalks and sparkling on the still-wet grass and leaves. Everything looked more cheerful and welcoming in the sunlight, but the modern office building where Dr. Karen Crawford had her surgery was gray and unwelcoming, the type of structure that could house anything from a school to a detention facility.

  Gabe rolled into a parking space out front. It was Saturday afternoon, but Dr. Crawford had office hours, and Quinn had made an appointment first thing that morning. The doctor might have no time to speak to her, but with a half-hour appointment booked, she’d have no excuse.

  Quinn turned and gave Logan a weak smile.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “I’d better be,” she replied. “I am nervous though.”

  “Me too,” Logan confessed. “I hope she’ll be amenable to answering a few questions.”

  “There’s a playground two streets over,” Gabe said. “Emma and I will wait for you there. Good luck, you two.”

  “Thank you, darling,” Quinn said, and kissed Gabe’s cheek before she got out of the car.

  “See you later, Quinn,” Emma called out. “Bye, Logan.”

  “Bye, princess,” Logan said and high-fived her.

  Gabe helped Emma out of her child seat and they set off for the playground while Quinn and Logan entered the building and took the lift to the third floor. The reception area was pleasant, with several potted plants and leather sofas in dove-gray for the waiting patients. Modern prints hung on the walls, adding a splash of color to the otherwise colorless room. Two receptionists sat behind a glass partition, their gazes fixed on computer screens.

  “Sure you want to do this?” Logan asked as he took a seat on the sofa after they checked in at reception.

  “Of course. Aren’t you?”

  “I am, but to be honest, I wish I didn’t know these things about my mother. As much as I want to believe that nothing’s changed, it has. I realized that last night after speaking to you. I’m grateful to have you in my life, and I hope to get to know Quentin, but I can no longer trust my mother unquestioningly as I did before. I keep wondering about the sort of
woman she is, what else she might be withholding, and how much my dad knew. For a while there, I rooted for her and Rhys to make a go of it, but now I see that it would never have worked. Deep down, he doesn’t trust her either, and he’s beginning to question the accusation of rape she’d leveled at him.”

  “I’m sorry, Logan. I really am. I’m still trying to come to terms with the woman she is. Sylvia is not at all the mother I envisioned.”

  “No, I don’t suppose she is. Come on. Let’s get this over with,” Logan said as a nurse called Quinn’s name and led them down a narrow corridor to an examining room.

  “I’d actually just like to talk to Dr. Crawford,” Quinn told the nurse. “Perhaps we can speak in her office.”

  The nurse looked surprised, but acquiesced to Quinn’s request. Quinn and Logan exchanged nervous smiles as they headed toward the doctor’s office.

  Karen Crawford looked up from a file she was perusing and smiled in welcome. “Please, have a seat.”

  Dr. Crawford styled her hair in a chic blond bob and wore perfectly applied makeup. Beneath her white lab coat was a smart silk blouse in an unusual shade of blue-gray that exactly matched the doctor’s eyes. She was a woman who took pride in her appearance.

  “How can I help you today?” she asked pleasantly, assuming an air of someone who couldn’t wait to hear what the other person had to say.

  “Dr. Crawford, my name is Quinn Russell, and this is my brother, Logan Wyatt. Nearly thirty-one years ago I was abandoned at Leicester Cathedral by my birth mother. A few weeks ago, I discovered, quite by chance, that I’m actually a twin, and that my sister, Quentin, had been left at the Royal Infirmary on the same day. I believe you know who I’m referring to.”

  Dr. Crawford’s eyes grew round and she studied Quinn more openly, no doubt searching for a resemblance to her twin. She was silent for a few moments, then nodded, her unblinking gaze still fixed on Quinn. Her face underwent a series of expressions, ranging from surprise to sadness, and eventually to something that might have been a grimace of contrition.