An Heiress at Heart
Page 4
Fighting a rush of fear, Lizzie pushed herself to a half-sitting position, trying to ascertain where they had brought her. Her bed was a large four-poster, with a counterpane of rose-patterned chintz. Through the partially opened window curtains she could see a cozy window seat lined with a deep red cushion. On the far side of the room stood a dressing table covered with an assortment of perfume bottles and a wooden box inlaid with ivory.
It was Ria’s room, exactly as she had described it. Lady Thornborough must have kept it unchanged during all these years. More important, they had brought Lizzie here. Despite her illness, the accident, and a few missteps, they seemed to have accepted that she was Ria. Lizzie sank back into the pillows and let out a long sigh. She hoped this boded well for what was to come.
The bedroom door opened and a large, round woman entered the room. She was dressed as a servant, yet she settled herself on the chair beside Lizzie with an easy familiarity. “So you are awake at last,” she said with a smile, which showed a small gap between her front teeth. “You gave us a hearty fright, collapsing like that the moment you come through the door.”
Lizzie quickly reviewed the woman’s features. Her rosy face was framed with graying hair just showing from underneath a white cap. A faded scar was barely visible under her left eye. Ria’s former nursemaid had a scar like that. Whenever Ria used to vex Martha—which, to hear Ria tell it, happened often—the old scar would stand out clearly.
A surge of excitement ran through her, similar to what she’d experienced before she’d taken the risk of addressing James by name. It was like walking off a cliff and yet somehow knowing there would be a bridge there. It gave her a heady feeling, and she liked it. “You see that you have your Ria to fuss over again, Martha.” Lizzie spoke in a higher tone of voice, copying Ria’s inflections. She had always been an excellent mimic of the wide variety of accents she’d heard every day in London. It was a skill that she and Tom had once used to entertain themselves for hours—now her future depended on it.
The old servant beamed. “Bless my soul!” She took one of Lizzie’s hands into her own, fleshy and calloused ones. “We were afraid we’d got you back after so many years only to lose you to a fever.” She let go of Lizzie’s hand to wipe away a tear. “I beg your pardon, miss. But we are so very happy to have you back.”
“Are you really glad, Martha? And Lady Thornborough—Grandmamma—is she happy, too?”
“Why, of course!” Martha replied without hesitation. “She was naturally very angry when you left as you did, with no word and so much bad blood between you. But time heals all wounds, they say. I have often seen her sitting alone in the garden, all pensive-like, and I know’d she was a-thinkin’ of you.”
So Lady Thornborough had been pining for Ria’s return. Half a world away, Ria had been longing for the very same thing. During the final weeks of Ria’s illness, when she’d shared so much about her life with Lizzie, Ria had often voiced the fear that everyone here had forgotten her. Clearly she’d been mistaken. The entire household, Lady Thornborough included, had been holding their collective breaths, hoping that Ria might someday come home to them. Tears stung Lizzie’s eyes at the thought that Ria would never know.
Martha gave her a comforting smile, and then placed a hand on Lizzie’s forehead and nodded in satisfaction. “Dr. Layton told us yesterday that the worst was past and you would be coming around again soon. All a matter of time, he said.”
“Martha, how long have I been here?”
“Five days, miss.”
“Five days!” Lizzie tried to sit up, but Martha gently restrained her.
“Easy, miss,” she said. “You’re not fully recovered yet.”
Lizzie took note for the first time of the soft linen nightdress which fell loosely against her skin. She scanned the room for evidence of her clothes, but could find none. “Martha, where are my clothes?”
“Not to worry. Her ladyship has ordered four new dresses for you. Yours was too worn, and not in keeping with the latest fashion, she said.”
These words were meant to be reassuring, but they only brought a new fear—that the precious heirloom Lizzie had come so far to return might now be lost. She had visions of her petticoat being sold cheap in the used clothing stalls, its new owner unaware that a diamond and sapphire bracelet was sewn into the waistband. She grabbed Martha’s arm. “Who undressed me?”
Martha beamed complacently. “I did, miss. Just like in the old days.” Martha leaned in close. “Rest easy,” she said softly. “The bracelet has not been lost.”
Relief washed over her. “I suppose you recognized it?”
“Indeed I did, miss.”
“I have every intention of returning it to Grandmamma.”
Martha patted her hand. “I know my Ria is an honest soul and would never keep what weren’t hers. I’m sure her ladyship will be overjoyed when you give the bracelet to her.”
“You have not already done so?”
Martha shook her head. “That was not my place.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “However, I did not want any of the other servants to find it, so I put it away for safekeeping. I put it in your secret hiding place.”
Lizzie stared at her blankly.
Ria had described a hiding place at Rosewood, their country estate in Kent. That was where Lizzie would find the love letters that had been written years ago between Lizzie’s mother and Ria’s father—letters Ria insisted would prove Lizzie was a blood relation. But Ria hadn’t mentioned a hiding place in the London house. How could Lizzie admit to Martha that she didn’t know where it was?
Martha gave her a reproving look. “Come now. There have been many years and many miles gone, but you must remember that.”
Was Martha deliberately testing her?
Lizzie gave her a coaxing smile, imitating the one Ria had often used to wheedle Edward into anything she wanted. “Martha, you are such a clever old thing. But you know I haven’t the strength to get out of bed, and I would like to return the bracelet to Grandmamma right away. Would you be a dear and get it for me?”
Martha remained seated. “Her ladyship was crushed when you ran away. She will be too proud to say so, but she has wished for nothing else all these years but that her dear Ria would return to her.” She gave Lizzie a deep, questioning look. “I do hope that you will not do anything to cause her more suffering.”
Lizzie was taken aback by Martha’s words. She had never in her life had servants, but she was fairly certain they did not question their employers in such a way. Did Martha suspect her of being a fraud?
No. For the moment she must assume that Martha was simply a faithful old servant who was secure enough in her position to chastise her charge. Especially one for whom she cared so much. “Martha, there are many things I must set straight. And I will.” She pursed her lips into an exaggerated pout. “Don’t be such a weeping willow.”
These last words, a common retort of Ria’s, seemed to have the desired effect. The shade of doubt in Martha’s eyes lifted. “I’ll get the bracelet for you straightaway, miss.”
Martha left through a door that most likely led to the old nursery. That would, of course, be the perfect place for Ria to hide something, Lizzie thought. She sighed. In her mind’s eye she saw herself picking her way, rock by rock, across a rushing stream. One misstep and she would be carried away by the current.
The door to the hallway opened, and Lady Thornborough entered. The next step across that stream, Lizzie thought.
“You are awake. Thank God.” She crossed the room to the bed. “Where is Martha? I instructed her to stay with you.”
“Don’t be cross, Grandmamma. I sent her on a small errand for me, that’s all.”
Martha reentered through the nursery door. “I’m here, my lady.” She made a show of straightening the bedclothes, and quietly placed a folded white handkerchief into Lizzie’s right hand as she did so. Lizzie guessed from its weight that the bracelet was wrapped inside.
She took a deep breath. Just a few days before, her lungs would have been screaming in pain from the effort; now she felt only a whispering ache. “I feel as though I’ve just come up for air.”
The old woman’s brow wrinkled. “I beg your pardon?”
“I dreamed I was in the ocean, swimming upward but never able to break the surface.”
“Do not talk of oceans,” Lady Thornborough said sharply. “They have done nothing but separate people who should have been together.”
Her words and her rigid exterior seemed to illustrate Ria’s claim that her grandmother was harsh and unyielding. Ria might once have responded with an angry defense of her most excellent reasons for crossing those very oceans. But that was long ago, and Ria had gone to her grave with an unfulfilled desire for reconciliation. Armed with the knowledge Martha had just given her, Lizzie was determined to find a softer spot in Lady Thornborough’s heart. She gave her a tiny smile. “Then I shall just say that I am much improved. And hungry, perhaps.”
“Martha,” said Lady Thornborough, “tell Cook that we are in need of her special broth.”
“Right away, my lady.” Martha hastened out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Lady Thornborough took the chair next to Lizzie’s bed. “You know we are so very anxious to hear all about what has happened. Lord Somerville has been calling every day to enquire after you.”
Lizzie frowned. Lord Somerville. That would be William, of course. As head of the Somerville family, he would naturally want to question her about Edward. No doubt Geoffrey had already filled him in on the particulars of her disgraceful arrival. She wondered if Geoffrey had been round to ask about her, and was suddenly quite anxious to know. She felt a particular urge to see him again—a need to explain why she had been in the street, and to thank him for his kindness in bringing her in, even if he seemed much colder to her later. What if he wished to have nothing to do with her? It was an unsettling thought. “I’m sure that both my brothers-in-law are desirous to hear everything,” Lizzie said, in an effort to subtly draw out the answer from Lady Thornborough.
“Both…” Lady Thornborough repeated, clearly perplexed. A pained expression crossed her face, and she cleared her throat. “Yes, of course.” The guilty way she looked away as she spoke seemed to contradict her answer.
It was disappointing, but really, not so surprising. After all, Geoffrey would have plenty of reasons for disliking his sister-in-law. His feelings toward her were based, Lizzie knew, on his belief that she was Ria. It was yet another obstacle that Lizzie would have to overcome. By taking up Ria’s identity, she would also have to accept responsibility for all the hurtful things Ria had done.
The weight of so many lives pressed upon her. The joys and sorrows not only of her own life, but of Ria and Edward’s, too. She had thought she would be leaving behind her burdens in order to step into a new life. Now she realized she must carry the burdens of both.
Lizzie dropped a disheartened gaze to the ring on her left hand. Edward’s ring. Ria had insisted she take it.
Lady Thornborough lightly touched the ring. “You and Edward were married, weren’t you?”
“Oh yes.”
“And Edward? Is he…”
For a moment, Lizzie could not answer. Two graves, side by side in a small church at Bathurst, filled her mind’s eye. “Yes,” she said at last with a shaky sigh. “He is dead.” She contemplated the ring, thinking of the two people who had worn it before her, knowing their loss was beyond regaining.
After a few moments’ silence Lady Thornborough said, “We were concerned when you appeared at our door in widow’s weeds. But I refused to believe the worst until you confirmed it. Even though I did not wish you to marry him, I want you to know how deeply grieved I am about his death. I know how hard it is to lose a husband.”
The words were simple, but heartfelt. Lizzie could see it in the old woman’s eyes. She was offering both forgiveness and solace.
“Grandmamma…” Lizzie began. The word came out a little easier each time she said it. “I know I have behaved wickedly. But please understand that I acted out of love for Edward. It was not my intent to bring scandal upon the family.”
“Intended or not, that is what happened,” Lady Thornborough said. “But it cannot be undone now.”
Lizzie’s hand closed around the wrapped bracelet in her hand. She knew it had a sentimental value that was higher even than the worth of the precious stones. It had been a gift to Lady Thornborough from her husband on their wedding day. She held it out to Lady Thornborough. “There is perhaps one thing I can set to rights. I have wanted to return this to you for a very long time.”
Lady Thornborough’s hands trembled as she opened the small bundle. The cloth fell away, and the diamonds and sapphires sparkled in the light. “My bracelet,” she murmured, her rigid exterior softening visibly. “I was sure you had broken it up and sold it years ago.” She shook her head. “I cannot believe you kept it all this time.”
Lizzie knew the words Ria wanted her grandmother to hear. She had practiced them many times during the interminable voyage from Australia. “I was unforgivably selfish to take this bracelet, but I hope that by returning it, you will find it in your heart to forgive me anyway. I took it because I was so afraid of being destitute, but Edward insisted that we would never sell it. And we never did. Somehow we always managed.”
The same could be said for Tom, Lizzie realized. He had given everything to protect and care for her, working tirelessly in a harsh land to give her a new life. She would have no difficulty playing the part of a bereaved widow. She was bereft; her loss felt no less deeply because it was her brother and not a spouse. “He said he would be my provider,” Lizzie found herself saying, “and he was.”
And then, the tears came.
Lady Thornborough wrapped her arms gently around Lizzie, murmuring soft words of comfort. “You have come home, my dear child, and we will muddle through together.”
She spoke with a tenderness that might have amazed Ria herself.
Lizzie let the tears spill, unheeded, that she had held back for far too long. In Australia, she’d been required to be strong, to soldier on as Edward, Tom, and finally Ria were taken from her. She’d had no time to grieve as she faced one tragedy after another.
The three people who had once meant the most in the world to her were gone. Lizzie clung to the woman now offering her comfort. This was her home now, she thought fiercely. This was her family.
Chapter 5
Geoffrey sat at his desk, trying to focus on the papers in front of him. As a board member of the Society for Improving the Condition of the Labouring Classes, he was responsible for arranging the dedication ceremony of the newest building, a block of flats in Spitalfields.
Normally such a task would readily consume his thoughts. After years of service as a clergyman, he refused to take up the dissolute and careless lifestyle that many of the peers were living. Having a title didn’t prevent him from continuing to do at least some good in the world.
Today, however, despite his best intentions, all he could think of was Ria.
He could not forget her pale face as she lay unconscious on the sofa, nor the way he had been riveted to her violet-blue eyes when they had finally opened. She had been weak from fever and exhaustion, but Geoffrey thought he had seen a glimpse of the spirited woman who had captured Edward’s heart.
He assured himself that his thoughts kept returning to Ria solely because he wanted information from her. He had to know what had become of Edward. Nearly a week had passed, and she had yet to regain consciousness. Geoffrey had spent most of that time consumed with worry. If she should slip away before telling him what had become of Edward…
No. Surely the Lord is too merciful for
that. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He looked down and noticed his pen had left a blot of ink on the paper where his hand had been resting, unmoving. He quickly placed the pen back in the inkstand and wiped his hand on a cloth.
Mrs. Claridge entered the room. “I beg your pardon, sir, but Lady Thornborough is downstairs.”
Lady Thornborough would not have come in person unless the news was either very good or very bad. Geoffrey dropped the cloth and rose from his desk. “Please show her up.”
Geoffrey paced the room as he waited, praying that the news was good.
Lady Thornborough breezed through the study door ahead of Mrs. Claridge, not waiting to be announced. She crossed the room and took both of his hands in hers. She did not even bother with formalities but simply said, “Her fever broke last night. She’s awake.”
Geoffrey found himself exhaling a deep breath that he had not been aware he’d been holding. “Have you spoken to her?”
A shadow crossed Lady Thornborough’s face. “Yes. We had quite a little chat.”
“And?”
Lady Thornborough gently withdrew her hands from his and glanced around the room for a place to sit. Belatedly remembering his duties as host, Geoffrey motioned to a chair by the window. “Would you be so kind?”
Lady Thornborough seated herself, taking a few moments to arrange the folds of her gown. She looked up at him expectantly. “Won’t you sit down, Lord Somerville?”
Geoffrey would have preferred to stand, to pace the room if necessary. Movement always helped when dealing with difficult matters. But Lady Thornborough appeared unwilling to speak until he was seated. With great effort he acquiesced and took the chair next to hers. “What other news do you have for me, Lady Thornborough?”
He did not have to elaborate. She would be perfectly aware that the question of Edward’s fate was uppermost in his mind.