by Anne Ireland
“Then I think we must go and fetch him this afternoon,” Paul said. “Clearly it is a match made in heaven, and we must make sure that no one else gets him first.”
Sylvia eyed him seriously. “Mrs. Jackson said no one would want him because he is the runt, and he might have to be got rid of. You won’t let that happen, will you?”
“No, indeed. I think we must go at once,” he said, took her hand, and cast a rueful smile at Hester. “You will excuse us, my love? I think rescuing a puppy from certain death takes precedent over tea and cakes, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course,” Hester said, a smile on her lips as she watched them walk off together, the child skipping by the large man’s side. She turned back to the house and went in, Her throat caught and tears came to her eyes, and then she turned to see that Mrs. Bradbury had come into the parlor and a maid carrying the tray of tea and biscuits. “I believe the rescue of a puppy has won out over biscuits. But I shall take a dish of tea and nibble at one myself, thank you.”
“It does the heart good to see them together,” Mrs Bradbury said comfortably. “She is the image of him, ma’am—and of you, if I may say so. It’s a happy ending to your story, and that’s a fact.”
Hester was so shocked that she could only stare as the maid put down the tray and was ushered out by her superior.
“You . . . know?” she said, finding a voice at last.
“Well, it stands to reason, my lady. The captain explained as how your family thought you too young—and him away to the wars. Like a fairytale it is you meeting again after all this time, but all’s well that ends well, that’s what I say. Ring for me when you need me, my lady.”
Hester nodded, sitting down to pour herself a dish of tea. Her hand trembled a little, as she saw how easily the tale had come about, and how well it fitted. Just how Paul had managed to convince his faithful servants that it was a touching love story she did not know, but perhaps it was better than the shocking truth.
She was just finishing her tea and thinking about ringing the bell for the housekeeper when she saw Paul and Sylvia returning, the child carrying a struggling puppy in her arms. Getting up, she went to meet them.
“Look, Mama,” Sylvia cried. “This is Hercules. Isn’t he lovely?”
“Hercules?” Hester’s eyes met Paul’s in amusement for the tiny scrap did not look as if he could carry the weight of the world on his back as Hercules had in the legend of old. “Yes, he is quite beautiful. I like him very much.” She bent to pick him up and had her face covered with enthusiastic licks. “You must teach him to behave, Sylvia. Make him understand that he should not make a puddle in the house—or we shall be in trouble with Mrs. Bradbury.”
“May he come up to the nursery with me?”
Hester looked to Paul for guidance and received a look of resignation. “Yes, but you must have a box of earth for him to start, and you must take him into the garden every morning to help him to learn that that is the proper place to do his duty.”
“Oh, I shall look after him, I promise. I am going to ask Mrs. Bradbury for something to feed him.”
Hester smiled as the child ran off. “Our daughter is all that I could have wished for and more. We are very lucky that she is as natural and sweet as she is, are we not?”
“Miss Robinson has improved her speech, and I understand she is quick enough to learn.” He smiled at her. “But we are lucky that her spirit was not crushed, for her foster father was not the best of guardians for a young girl, though his wife had been a lady’s maid and was better mannered. I daresay we have her to thank for Sylvia’s survival.”
“I must send her a small gift,” Hester said and then saw the look in his eyes. “But I suppose you have already done so?”
“You may do as you please, my love—but I should keep your money for yourself and the child.”
“I have a gift for her in my trunk,” Hester said. “It is a little French fashion doll, which I think she may like—but for the moment, the puppy is sufficient. I shall not bribe her, but I hope that she will learn to love us in time.”
“I think Sylvia has a lot of love to give, but like her mother, she had no one to give it to until now. I believe she will be very like you as she grows, Hester.”
“But she is also like you,” Hester said with a smile. “Mrs. Bradbury is convinced that we have a love child, Paul. I wonder why.”
“I dare say it pleases her to think it,” Paul said, laughter in his eyes. “I think we shall say nothing more to anyone, my love. Let the world decide for itself.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Where are we going, Mama?” Sylvia asked. She was wearing a carriage gown of green-striped silk that was a miniature copy of her mother’s, and a velvet bonnet. Over her gown, she had a brown velvet pelisse and York tan gloves on her hands. She carried a large wicker basket, in which sat Hercules, a green velvet collar about his neck. “Papa says it is a long way and that I must be good.”
“We are going to London to meet some friends,” Hester told her. “The Countess of Danbury is to give a large party, and we are to be guests of honor—your papa and me. But you will meet her, and she will be kind to you, because she was always kind to me.”
“I shall like her if she is nice,” Sylvia said. Miss Robinson was beckoning to her to join her in the second carriage. “I am glad my governess is coming too. She is teaching me French, and I like it. I like to draw too, Mama—and Miss Robinson says I may have dancing lessons next year, if you agree.”
“Well, we shall have to see how good you can be,” Hester said and smiled indulgently. It was very difficult not to spoil her lovely daughter, though she was trying to be sensible. “Run along now, my dearest, and do not plague Miss Robinson too much with your questions.”
Hester climbed into the carriage, where her maid was already seated waiting for her. Paul had chosen to ride for the first part of their journey and was giving last minute instructions to the grooms.
“She is a lucky little girl,” Anna said as Hester settled herself. “Most girls of her age are left in the nursery when their parents go visiting.”
“Yes, I know. I am afraid that we may spoil her,” Hester said with a rueful smile. “But I truly cannot bear to be parted from her so soon. Besides, Paul has decided that we shall visit my mother and his parents on our way to town—and he wants them to meet Sylvia.”
Hester was feeling a little nervous about the visits and the party that Charlotte was giving for them. At home, she had met with no resistance from their neighbors, who had lost no time in welcoming them home. Hester suspected that everyone believed the tale that Mrs. Bradbury had got into her head, and apparently because Paul was so well liked, people were prepared to accept that he had a love child. Indeed, everyone had treated Hester kindly, and they had dined at three houses in the neighborhood, besides giving a well-attended dinner themselves.
“Are you ready, my love?” Paul asked looking into the carriage. “I think we must be off if we are to reach Mrs. Weston’s house this evening.”
“Yes, of course,” Hester agreed. “Mama wrote that she would like to see us.” And she had requested that she might be allowed to see her granddaughter, something that had moved Hester to tears for she knew what it must have cost her mother.
* * * *
The visit to Mrs. Weston’s was successful but brief. They stayed overnight, but left again in the morning. Coming out to see them off, Mrs. Weston clung to her daughter and granddaughter in turn, the tears trickling down her cheeks.
“You will come again soon?” she asked, clearly reluctant to see them leave. “I miss you, Hester—and I love your little girl.”
“You must come and stay with us soon, Mama,” Hester said and hugged her. “Thank you for forgiving me at last.”
“There was nothing to forgive,” her mother said and looked ashamed. “I am the one who should beg for your forgiveness, Hester. I wronged you shamefully.”
“Sylvia suffered the most,”
Hester told her, “but as you see, she has a very forgiving nature. She is happy, and I am very happy—so there is nothing to forgive.”
“Then please believe that I love you both,” Mrs. Weston said. “And I shall come to visit when I can.”
Hester kissed her cheek and left her. She was glad to have her mother’s love, though there had been times when she had sorely needed it only to be denied. Her own daughter had been lonely and unloved, but that would never be allowed to happen again.
Hester lifted her head proudly, for she knew that they would spend the next night at the Longstanton’s” home and she was not sure what kind of a reception she would receive there.
* * * *
It was quite late in the evening when they arrived. Dinner would have been over long ago, and it would not have surprised Hester if her mother-in-law had retired to bed. She expected that only the servants would be up to greet them, but when Paul carried the sleeping child into the hall, followed by Anna carrying Hercules in his basket, she was surprised to discover that Lady Longstanton was waiting for them.
She took one look at the child and smiled. “Take her up to the nursery, Paul. I shall meet her in the morning. I wish to speak to Hester alone.”
“Mother.” There was a warning note in his voice, but she shook her head at him.
“You have no need to fear me, Paul—nor you, Hester. I have waited up this evening to beg your pardon for what I said to you that day. It was thoughtless and unkind of me, and I have regretted it.”
“But you had every right to be angry,” Hester said as she followed her mother-in-law into the little sitting room to the right of the hall. “I do not blame you. In my heart, I thought your objections valid or I should not have left Paul. I believed that it would be better for him if the marriage were annulled—but he would not have it so.”
“No, of course not,” Lady Longstanton said. “He loves you and he wants you as his wife—and indeed, I want you to be my daughter. I regretted my harsh words to you almost as soon as you had left. At first, I thought only of the shame to our family that this scandal would create, but then I realized that we are not a family if we do not stand together. No matter what others may say or think, I shall welcome you here, Hester. And I ask you to forgive me for sending you away.”
“You did not need to send me. I went because I, too, believed it for the best—but Paul refused to allow it. He does not care what others think and he has taken my daughter as his own. Sylvia is ours and the world may make of it what they will.”
“She is your love child,” Lady Longstanton said with a faint smile. “Everyone says it. The tale is that you fell in love years ago, but your father would not let you marry because you were too young. He forbade you to meet Paul again and kept you virtually a prisoner—but after he died, your cousin took you to Bath, where you met and fell in love again.”
“A part of it is very true,” Hester said. “But Sylvia was not Paul’s child until he adopted her. Now she belongs to us both equally, because we both adore her.”
“And I can see why,” Lady Longstanton said. “She is beautiful. I imagine you must spoil her?”
“We try not to,” Hester said. “But it is not easy because she is a very loveable child. After the way she has been brought up, we consider ourselves fortunate that she is as spirited as she is, and I fear that puppy is not yet housetrained. I do hope he won’t make a mess on your carpets.”
“As I recall, Paul had several puppies when he was growing up. I dare say they made puddles a few times, and the carpets survived.” Lady Longstanton smiled. “If we had nothing else to trouble us, we should not need to worry much.”
“You are very kind,” Hester said. “But I believe we may have greater obstacles to climb before we are done. You know that my cousin is to give a party at which we are to be guests of honor. My fear is that few of her guests will come, and if they do . . .” She smothered a sigh. “If we are ostracized by Society, it may be uncomfortable for you, Lady Longstanton.”
“I do not think it—but will you not call me Ellie, as you did before? I know that I have not deserved it, but I shall try to make up for my unkindness.”
“I shall call you Ellie if you truly wish it,” Hester said. “I hesitated to do so, because I am not the woman you thought me when you invited it.”
“You are exactly what I thought you—warm, loving, and honest,” Ellie said smiling at her. “As for the rest, it is forgotten.”
“Then we shall all be friends again,” Hester said. She leaned forward to kiss Ellie’s cheek. “And now I must not keep you from your bed, for it is late. We shall talk again in the morning.”
* * * *
In the morning, Lady Longstanton was properly introduced to Sylvia as her second grandmother. For a child who had, until recently, had no real parents and no one to love her, adjusting to all the affection that was suddenly being showered on her was difficult, and she was a little shy of this grand lady. However, sweetmeats, kind words, and a doll that Lady Longstanton somehow seemed to have put by went a long way to breaking down barriers. Sylvia was content to let her new grandmama kiss her when they took their leave.
“We shall see you in town I dare say,” Ellie told Hester as they left. “Countess Danbury sent an open invitation to the family so you need not fear that no one will be there, my dear.”
Hester smiled and thanked her. At least there would be one or two friendly faces at Charlotte’s party.
They were to stay at the Longstantons’ town house, a large, important house on several stories in a fashionable square at the heart of London. Hester was surprised to see that several invitation cards lay on the silver salver in the hall. It was obviously known that they were expected, but when she opened them, she discovered that all but one was from her husband’s family.
Uncle Staunton had invited them to a race meeting, where a cold collation was to be served in a marquee. One of Paul’s cousins was giving a card party, and an elderly aunt had arranged a soiree in their honor.
Their kindness touched Hester, but she intrigued by the invitation with a gold banding at the edges from Lady Jersey, inviting them to an informal dance the evening following Countess Danbury’s affair.
However, Lady Jersey’s invitation was the only one other than from family members to arrive in the two days they spent in London before Charlotte’s evening. Hester was a little nervous about her reception should she meet people she had known in Bath, who had been present at her wedding.
On the morning after their arrival, she took Sylvia to the park for a walk, accompanied by her maid. They spent some time watching the ducks on the Serpentine and playing a game of catch ball, and it was only as they were leaving that Hester realized she was being watched. Turning, she saw that two ladies were sitting in an open carriage and staring at her intently. One of them was Lady Blackwater, and the look in her eyes was openly hostile.
Hester lifted her chin as she passed them. She had no need to apologize to that lady nor would she. Henry Blackwater had first kidnapped her, and then ruined her wedding day. He had done his best to murder Paul, and had deserved his fate. Yet, Lady Blackwater’s hostility was so strong that it sent a shiver down Hester’s spine.
Paul had gone to his club that morning, and he was still out when she returned to the house. Hester ate her nuncheon with Sylvia in the nursery, and then went down to the front parlor. It was at about three in the afternoon when a maid came to ask her if she was at home.
“Who is calling, Mary?”
“Lady Blackwater, ma’am.”
“I see.” Hester hesitated for she knew that this was not a friendly call. “Very well, please ask her to come through.” She rose to her feet, crossing to the window to look out at the street, her stomach tying itself in knots. She turned as Mary announced the visitor. “Lady Blackwater. What may I do for you?”
“You may take yourself back where you came from,” Lady Blackwater said coldly. “You are not fit to be seen in decent s
ociety, madam—and your husband is a murderer. I intend that he shall be brought to justice.”
“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but I believe you have that wrong,” Hester said with calm dignity. “Your nephew drew a second pistol and tried to murder Paul. Someone shot to prevent that but I cannot say with any certainty who that person was. I know only that it was not my husband.”
“I have heard some absurd concocted tale,” Lady Blackwater snorted her disbelief. “But I do not believe it. I shall see that the culprit is brought to justice—and as for you, whore that you are—if you dare to show your face in public, I shall cut you. I imagine that there are many others who will follow my lead.”
“You may of course do as you wish,” Hester replied quietly. A little pulse was beating in her throat but apart from that she gave no sign of being disturbed. “However, I do not intend to be cowed by your threats. I am what I am and everyone must make up their own mind whether or not they wish to know me.”
“No decent woman will acknowledge you!”
“Perhaps you are right,” Hester said, “but we shall see. Countess Danbury gives a large party tomorrow evening. I shall be there, and I shall also be at Lady Jersey’s dance the following night.”
“Well, you have been warned,” Lady Blackwater’s mouth curved in spite. “You will have only yourself to blame when everyone ignores you.”
“I thank you for your warning, ma’am,” Hester said. “You must forgive me if I ignore it.”
“You are an impudent girl with no morals,” the outraged matron said and stalked from the room.
