by Anne Ireland
“It is just as I thought it would be, my dearest cousin,” Charlotte said and embraced her warmly. “Captain Crawford is a good man, and I am sure you will be happy with him.”
“Yes . . .” Hester smiled. She was very happy that Paul had forgiven her, though there was a tiny pinprick of hurt inside her for she knew that she had disappointed him. There was also another ache buried deeper inside her concerning the child she had believed dead. It was painful to think of her daughter growing up bereft of even the poorest education and a mother’s love. Richard had said she was well cared for in a physical sense, but Hester knew what it was like to feel unloved, and she grieved for her daughter’s lack. Somehow, she must do something for her, even if Paul would not allow her to have the child. “Yes, I am happy, Charlotte.”
“Then I am content,” Charlotte said looking very pleased with herself. “It is all that I could wish for you, my love.”
Returning to the ballroom, Hester was immediately joined by Geraldine, Lucinda, and their partners, all of whom hugged and kissed her with real affection, welcoming her to their midst.
“Now you will truly be one of us,” Lucinda said and laughed up at Josh. “I won my bet! I said that Captain Crawford would propose tonight, and Josh said he would wait for a few days yet.”
Hester smiled, for it seemed that her friends had been more confident than she, but their smiles and their teasing warmed her.
“You will be going to London for your bride clothes and so shall I,” Geraldine said. “We must arrange to go at the same time, dearest Hester, and then we shall have more fun that way. We can shop and go to social events together—oh, it will be so exciting! I was looking forward to it anyway, but now it will be even better.”
“And you must come to our wedding,” Lucinda said. “Paul has an invitation, and you are invited as his fiancée of course.”
Surrounded by her friends until they all began dancing once more, Hester hardly had time to think about what had happened to her, but the moment of facing her mother’s questions could not be put off indefinitely. They began in the carriage, though it was not until Mrs. Weston followed her daughter into her bedchamber that they were alone.
“Well, Hester, you have done better than I had hoped,” Mrs Weston said with a satisfied smile. “Captain Crawford is prepared to help your brother improve his estate to the tune of some ten thousand pounds, which will be in the form of labour, materials, and structural improvements to the house.”
“Oh, Mama, how could you?” Hester asked, appalled.
“I did not say a word,” Mrs. Weston said, clearly elated. “The suggestion came entirely from Paul—wasn’t that good of him?”
“Yes, of course.” And wise since a capital sum would almost certainly have gone the same way as the money Robert had already lost at the gambling tables. Yet, Hester suspected that her mother had previously dropped hints that Paul could not fail to appreciate. He had known that the best way to win her approval was to do something substantial for her son.
“Well, you might look pleased,” Mrs. Weston said. “It will not affect your settlement, though I have not been told the details. Paul will speak to Robert on the matter, for he is the proper person to deal with the marriage contracts.”
“I had not even thought of a settlement,” Hester replied quietly, though of course she knew that it was normal practice for these things to be arranged. “Mother, there is something I must ask you.”
Was that a guilty flush in her cheeks? Hester saw that her mother could not meet her eyes and guessed that Paul must have said something to her.
“I am rather tired, Hester. Could this not wait until the morning?”
“I would rather speak of it now,” Hester said, and there was a new tone of authority in her voice. “I have learned that my daughter did not die at birth as you and father told me.”
“Oh, do not look at me like that,” Mrs. Weston wailed, unable to meet her daughter’s accusing eyes. “I knew that you would blame me if you ever discovered the truth. It is a terrible burden to have carried all these years, Hester. Your father made me do it. I did not want the child to be given away—she was a pretty little thing, very like you as a baby—but your father was adamant.”
“Could you not have told me later—after he died?”
“You would have wanted to find the child, and I couldn’t face all the scandal, Hester. It was a long time, and I did not know if she still lived. So many children die in their formative years . . .”
“I think it was very unkind in you, Mother,” Hester said a touch of anger in her tone. “I broke my heart over the baby. You know I did. Why did you let him do that to me?”
“He was so angry, Hester. I had always been a little afraid of him. Mr. Weston was such a stern man, and . . . sometimes I wished that I had not married him. You cannot know the life I had with him. He could be violent as well as harsh.”
“He was violent to you?”
“Yes, on several occasions, especially after . . .” A tear trickled from the corner of her eye. “My health deteriorated after one beating, and the doctor suspected him. He was warned, and after that, he did not come to my room. He never hit me again, and I believe he had a mistress. But he was still unkind, and I know that he was often cruel to you.”
“He only beat me a few times,” Hester said. “I think because he knew that his taunts hurt me more than the cane. I did not know that he hurt you. Poor Mama. Do not cry. I see that it was not your fault, and I think we must forget that it happened.”
“Oh yes, that is much the best,” her mother said relieved. “I am glad we have had this talk, for it was such a dreadful secret and it has played on my mind all these years.”
“Well, you need not think of it again. I know the truth—and somehow I mean to see my daughter.”
“Hester! You cannot,” Mrs. Weston said in a horrified tone. “It would be the most shocking scandal if all this came out. You might be shunned by society . . . ostracized.”
“But I cannot just give her up completely now that I know,” Hester said and there was a determined look in her face that her mother had never seen before. “Even if I may not have her to live with me, I must see her sometimes—and I must help her. Do you know that she cannot read or write? How can I allow my daughter to live like that, Mama?”
“I . . . don’t know,” Mrs. Weston said and quailed before the look in Hester’s eyes. “I suppose you could not.”
“I must speak to Paul about it,” Hester said. She saw the acceptance in her mother's eyes and knew that she had learned that Hester was no longer to be dominated. “But I am sure that he will agree that I should see her. He may even accompany me—though I do not know if he will allow me to have her with me.”
“You must not ask it of him, Hester. It is enough that he has forgiven you and is prepared to wed you.”
“Yes, I am aware that he has been generous in forgiving my shame,” Hester said. “Do not look so anxious, Mama. I love Paul with all my heart, and I shall do nothing to jeopardise my marriage, but I must and will see my daughter.”
“Yes, I understand,” Mrs. Weston said. “If I had been in your place I might have felt the same, though Mr. Weston would not have married me and I would not have dared to tell him if I had a secret like yours.”
Hester smiled at her mother. She could understand much that had been a source of hurt to her in the past, for she had wondered why her mother had been so unkind.
“I hope that we shall understand each other better in future, Mama.”
“Yes, well, I hope so too,” Mrs. Weston said in a trembling voice. “And now I really must go to bed, Hester. I have a shocking headache.”
“I am sorry, Mama. I should ask for a tisane if I were you.”
“Yes, I shall. Lady Longstanton’s housekeeper makes a very restorative drink that eases my nerves. I must ask her for the recipe when I go home.”
“You will come to London with me to buy my bride clothes?”
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br /> “No, I do not think so, Hester. I think you would do better with your friends and Charlotte. I shall give you some money, though Charlotte has told me that she will give you another five hundred pounds. You will have sufficient for a trousseau that will not shame your new position.”
“Thank you, Mama, you are very good,” Hester replied and, on impulse, leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek.
“Well, I have a little money of my own that my father left in trust for me, and I have not done much for you in the past, Hester.”
Hester was thoughtful after her mother went out. She did not feel like retiring immediately, though she rang for her maid and allowed her to help with her clothes so that she could go to bed. Afterwards, she sat by the window brushing her hair and looking out at the night sky.
She had wept so many bitter tears for the loss of the child she had carried inside her all those months. It was strange that she had never hated the tiny life within her, never resented the baby that had caused her trouble. The child could not be blamed for its existence. It had been her own fault for allowing Richard Mortimer to kiss her. Had she refused him the first time, he would not have gone so much further than she had ever intended or imagined possible. And she understood now that he had had his own reasons for behaving as he had—and for leaving her to face the results of his passionate seduction alone.
Hester felt as though a festering wound deep inside her had begun to heal. She could forgive Richard Mortimer for his betrayal as she had forgiven her mother. It would be harder to forgive the father who had been so cruel to her, but she had believed herself a wicked girl and longed for forgiveness from him. Suddenly, that need had gone. She did not need to be forgiven. She had sinned, but her father’s crimes of lying to her and of giving an innocent child away to strangers was far worse than anything she had done in her innocence.
Hester went to bed at last feeling as if she had somehow shed a burden that had weighed her down for the past eight years. Paul loved her and though a slight shadow hung over their relationship, she could only hope that it would go in time.
* * * *
“Oh, my dearest girl,” Lady Longstanton said as she hugged her son’s intended bride the next morning. “I am so happy that you have accepted Paul. I have been looking forward to this moment for so long.”
“I am very happy that you are pleased,” Hester said. She wondered if he had told his mother the whole, but decided that it did not matter for the moment. “You have been so very kind to me, and I hope that we shall always get on well together.”
“Oh, I have no doubt of it,” Lady Longstanton said. “You will stay with us often I hope, but Paul has his own estate so you must not think that we shall always be in each other’s pockets.”
“I did not know that,” Hester said. “But I would not have minded living here with you.”
“Now that is a compliment.” Her soon-to-be mother-in-law cried and laughed, dropping her handkerchief to the floor. “But you must be mistress in your own house, my dear. However, I want you and Mrs. Weston to come and stay after you have been to town to buy your clothes. I think the wedding should be here. Your mother is not strong, Hester dear. It would be too much for her to host a big wedding, and I adore the idea. I assure you, It will be no trouble for me.” Which was true enough, for there was an army of servants to carry out her slightest wish, though no doubt she would be in charging of the arrangements.
“It is very kind of you,” Hester said a little smile on her lips for she knew the arrangement would please her mother who would thus be spared the expense and the work. “Is it to be a big wedding then?”
“Oh, of course,” her hostess said, beaming at her. “Paul says he wants everyone here, and I am in complete accord. For a start, we have many relations, who would all be up in arms if they were not invited. Indeed, most of them would come anyway. And then we have masses of friends—and you will have people you want to invite, of course.”
“Only a handful I think,” Hester said, “but I would not dream of offending any of your friends and most especially your relatives. I think I shall enjoy meeting them all.”
“You will find them an odd bunch,” her hostess said with a twinkle in her eye that was very like one Hester had seen in Paul’s a few times. “However, they are good-natured and loveable, and I know they are going to adore you.”
“I am sure I shall love them if they are like you,” Hester replied and was immediately enveloped in a perfumed hug once more.
“You are the dearest, sweetest, girl,” Lady Longstanton cried. “Oh, I am so happy that Paul found you. I was afraid that he never would be truly settled, and now he is, thanks to you.”
“I have not seen him this morning,” Hester said. “I thought we were to go riding, but I received a note to say that he had postponed the date until another time.”
“Yes, such a nuisance,” her hostess said and shook her head. “Paul had some business that came up suddenly and he was forced to leave. He told me that I was to look after you, and that I should tell you he would see you in London next week.”
“Oh.” Hester had a sinking feeling inside. Had Paul invented his business so that he did not have to meet her immediately? It might be that he felt he needed time to get over his disappointment. “That is a pity. I had hoped we might talk.”
“He said that I was to arrange the wedding for one month,” Lady Longstanton went on blithely. “He will have the banns called in church tomorrow and twice more before then, so we shall be ready on time. You will leave on Monday to arrange for your clothes. It should take only a few days to have your first fittings, and then you may come here, and the seamstress can bring your wardrobe here for the final fittings a week or so before the wedding.”
It seemed that Lady Longstanton had everything in hand. All Hester had to do was to enjoy herself shopping and wait—and yet, she was conscious of a small niggle of unease at the back of her mind. Why had Paul gone away so abruptly? Had he regretted asking her to marry him? He loved her, but was he finding it more difficult to accept her secret than he had at first thought?
* * * *
Hester sat in church with her mother, Lord and Lady Longstanton and Charlotte, listening to the banns being called the next day. Afterwards, she received the congratulations of neighbors and friends. It was all very pleasant, but she could not help wishing that Paul had been with her. She was asked where he was several times, and it felt odd to be telling people that he had been called away on important business. It was usual for the prospective bride and groom to appear together at the first calling of the banns.
Hester smiled through the curious looks, telling herself that it was not important. Paul had many things to attend to, and she was being foolish to worry about his absence. He would not allow his mother to go to all this trouble if he had any intention of changing his mind.
Hester had half expected to see Richard Mortimer again, but as yet, he had made no attempt to contact her. He had warned her that Paul would turn from her in disgust and promised that he would be there to pick up the pieces when it all fell apart, but for the moment, he was keeping his distance. She was not sure whether she was pleased or sorry. If he had come to see her, she could have asked him things about her daughter. There were so many things that she longed to know.
At the time, she had been so shocked and distressed that she had not thought to ask all the little details she wanted to know. She had since realized that she must speak to Richard again, because she did not actually know where to find her little girl.
When she thought about the meeting, Hester had a feeling of butterflies in her stomach. She longed for it so much that she had dreamed of the child more than once, but she was also scared—afraid that her daughter would hate her for giving her up.
How could she expect the child to understand that she had been given no choice? If Sylvia knew that she was being fostered, she would have wondered who her real mother was and why she did not want her. That hurt Hester
so much. She could not wait to meet the girl, because she knew that she would love her, and she would tell her so—over and over again until she believed it.
She tried to picture the child in her mind. Richard said that Sylvia looked like her, but a much younger Hester. Her mother had a miniature of her as a child, and she thought that perhaps her daughter must look like that. Her heart swelled within her, filling her with a mixture of pride and happiness. She was so lucky to have the daughter she had thought dead. Even if she could only see her now and then and take her presents it would be a source of much pleasure.
She was so caught up in her dreams as she stood with the others outside the church, that she took no notice as the urchin ran up to her, pushing a folded note at her.
“Is this for me?” Hester asked as he thrust it at her. “Who gave it to you?”
“A gent what paid me a shillin’,” the urchin replied grinning at her. “I reckon as he likes you, miss.”
Hester accepted the note and opened it, staring at it in bewilderment. It consisted of just one line, telling her that the writer had something of importance to tell her and would write again when it was time.
A little shiver ran down Hester’s spine, for it was very much like the notes that Geraldine had received in Bath, and it made her uneasy. She slipped it into her reticule as Lady Longstanton called to her from the carriage. Was someone trying to blackmail her?
“Is something the matter?” her kind hostess asked as she climbed into their carriage beside her. “You look very pale, my dear.”
“No, nothing,” Hester assured her. “It was perhaps a little cool in church and the sermon was quite long.”
“Ah yes, our dear Reverend Milton does loves his sermons,” Lady Longstanton said with a forgiving smile. “But Sunday is his day, and he is so good to his parishioners that I think we must let him have his way. You should always take a muff with you, my love, and move your feet. It helps to keep them warm.”
