An Heiress at Heart

by Jennifer Delamere

  She looked at him, uncomprehending. “Game?” Her voice came out in a rasp.

  This only enraged him more. “Be honest for once. What are you after? Is it money?”

  “No!” The word came out with effortless sincerity. How could he think such a thing? What terrible conclusions had he been drawing?

  His grip held. “You want to ruin me, then. Bring scandal and disgrace to my family.”

  Lizzie shook her head. “No,” she said again, fighting to keep her voice calm. “No one else need ever know what happened last night. It is—and will remain—solely between us. I do not blame you for hating me, but you can walk away now and no one will ever be the wiser.”

  “Is that really what you want? You want me to just walk away?” His hands tightened around her arms, bringing her a hair’s breadth closer. His eyes locked on hers, dark and unfathomable. For one sliver of an instant Lizzie thought he was going to draw her to him.

  But he released his hold and drew back, leaving Lizzie’s arms tingling and her heart bereft. He pulled a folded paper from his coat pocket and held it out. “Perhaps you would care to clarify exactly whom I would be walking away from?”

  Lizzie took the paper. It was the letter from Tom. Clearly, Geoffrey had read it.

  Lizzie took a step back, as the world around her seemed to shift into odd angles and leave her only vaguely aware of which direction was up. She found herself against a low stone wall, which she leaned on gratefully for support.

  She tucked the letter into the pocket of her dress. It would be pointless to ask where he had found it, or to reprimand him for reading it. Nothing would change the fact that the time had come for complete honesty. She took a long, slow breath, looked unflinchingly at him and said, “My name is Elizabeth Rose Poole.”

  It was actually a relief to say it out loud. The taste of her own name on her tongue was a simple pleasure she’d been deprived of for too long.

  Geoffrey stood motionless. Although his eyes remained fixed on her, Lizzie saw with relief that his posture was no longer as aggressive. Rather, he received this information stoically, like a person who has been expecting bad news but is still unprepared for it when it comes. “You are not Ria,” he said, sounding as though he still could not believe it. “How could you have done it? How did you fool everyone so completely? How on earth did you think you would get away with it? How—”

  “I will explain everything,” she interrupted, “if you will allow me to speak.”

  His mouth closed again into that thin, hard line. With great effort, it seemed, he gave a curt nod and said, “All right. I am listening.”

  “My mother, Emma, grew up just a few miles from here, in Sennoke. My father—that is to say, my legally recognized father—was Sam Poole. Before his marriage, he had spent five years as a valet for Sir Herbert Thornborough.”

  Geoffrey’s face registered a brief flash of something that might have been understanding, but he quickly shuttered it. “Do you believe this earns you some kind of connection to the Thornboroughs? Is this why you feel justified impersonating another woman?”

  Was he going to deny what was so evident that Lizzie was certain he had seen it himself in a split second of time? She lifted her chin defiantly. “Yes. I believe there is a direct connection.”

  “That is a serious accusation. The implications—”

  Lizzie gave a brittle laugh. “I am aware of the implications. Every one of them.”

  “Does Ria know you are here, pretending to be her? Where is she?”

  “Ria is dead,” Lizzie said.

  Her unsparing answer left Geoffrey speechless for several long moments. But he rallied and said in an accusatory manner, “Exactly how did she die?”

  This was too much. She would not be accused of killing her dearest friend—her sister. Shakily, Lizzie stood up. “She did not die by my hand, if that’s what you wish to imply. I did everything in my power to keep her alive.”

  “Did you?” he challenged. “And why should I believe that?”

  “It is the truth!”

  “So you have finished telling lies now? Then tell me this. What has become of Edward? Is he dead or isn’t he?”

  Despite his harsh tone, Lizzie saw a flicker of anguish in Geoffrey’s eyes, as though hoping against hope that his brother still lived. She chastised herself for not clarifying this point at the beginning. “Everything I have told you about Edward is true,” she said evenly. “I wish with all my heart it could be otherwise. Edward was a good man.”

  It was an attempt at comfort, but it seemed only to reignite his anger. “How do you dare judge the goodness of anyone?”

  “Please, Geoffrey.” She reached out to take him by the arms. “Listen to me before you pass judgment. Once you have heard me out, you may do as you see fit. In spite of how it must appear, I wanted only the best for our families.”

  His arms were rigid beneath hers. She might have been holding one of the steel girders at the Crystal Palace. “Our families?” he repeated coldly.

  “Look at me, Geoffrey. Look at my eyes, my face. How else could I look so much like Ria? How could her closest family members have mistaken me for her? I must be a Thornborough. It cannot be denied.”

  He tried to turn his head away but she forced him to look at her, willing him to acknowledge that he saw the truth of her words. At last she felt him relax slightly.

  “I will hear you out,” he said with forced calm. “But I make no promises as to what I shall do or not do with the information.”

  She nodded, releasing his arms. He leaned against the low wall, watching her, his eyes wary.

  “Six years ago,” she said, “my brother Tom and I left London for Australia.”

  “Your brother!”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Yes. Tom is my brother.”

  Geoffrey shook his head, as though he could not quite believe it. “That letter was from your brother.”

  “Who did you…” Lizzie stopped herself in midquestion. She had read Tom’s letter a thousand times, knew every word by heart. Tom’s loving words could easily have led Geoffrey to an entirely different conclusion about the man who wrote that letter. It seemed Geoffrey was only too ready to put Lizzie in the role of dissolute woman. Who could blame him?

  She pulled her thoughts from that unhappy tangent. “Tom and I met Edward soon after we arrived in Sydney. He was naturally intrigued by how similar I looked to Ria. He’d been sent to hire new workers, and he immediately offered us a place. From the moment Ria and I met…” Lizzie broke off, her voice cracking. She paused to regain her composure. “From the moment we met, we became great friends. In time we began to piece together that we must be sisters, too. Our meeting seemed fated somehow.” She sighed. “Everything else I told you about our lives was true, including…” She stopped again.

  “The robbery and the shooting,” Geoffrey prompted. “It happened all as you said?”

  “Yes.”

  Another flash of pain crossed Geoffrey’s face, and he looked away. “And Ria?” he asked. “What became of her?”

  “A few weeks after Edward’s death, Ria discovered she was with child.”

  Geoffrey groaned softly, as though guessing where Lizzie’s narrative would lead.

  “We were worried because Ria had had two miscarriages already. The doctor ordered her to remain in bed. This distressed her to no end, for she was normally such an energetic person. To cheer her up, I got her to tell me everything about her life in England. We would talk together for hours. It made her happy to relive so many fond memories.”

  “So that is how you were able to step so easily into her shoes.”

  “Yes. She had described everything in such detail that I truly did feel as though I were coming home again.” Lizzie half expected Geoffrey to balk at this, but he said nothing. “As you have no doubt guessed, Ria’s lying in was difficult. She was still in shock from losing Edward, and she was desperately missing her family in England. She made me promise t
hat if anything happened to her, I would return and try to make amends for her. I assured her that she and her baby would make it home. But that was never to be.” Lizzie was unable to keep her voice from wobbling as she finished, “The child was stillborn.”

  Geoffrey pulled a hand over his face. “Dear God.”

  “That was the last straw for poor Ria. She had overcome so many setbacks, but to lose her child was more than she could bear. I saw her wasting away, day after day, despite all I tried to do for her. The doctor said that complications from the birth killed her, but I know she died of a broken heart.”

  For several moments, neither of them spoke. Only the call of morning birds filled the air. Lizzie was grateful for this brief respite between the release of the burden of lies and the weight of the consequences that would surely follow.

  “Why did you not tell us these things from the beginning?” Geoffrey asked. “What did you hope to gain by this deception?”

  “I was keeping a promise to Ria.”

  “What?” Geoffrey said harshly. “You can’t mean she wanted you to do this.”

  “Yes!” Lizzie said defensively. She explained quickly, before Geoffrey could argue. “During this time, Tom was in that shipwreck that he spoke of in the letter. I thought he was dead. I tried to keep the news from Ria because she was in such a delicate state, but she got wind of it anyway. I really am terrible at keeping secrets,” she finished with an ill-advised attempt at wry humor.

  Geoffrey did not respond to this. He said only, “What does this have to do with you pretending to be Ria?”

  “Ria and I were now on our own, having lost the two men who meant the most to us in the world. Ria insisted—made me promise—that I should take up her identity. ‘I am giving you my family,’ she said. ‘Our family.’ ”

  “That’s insane!” Geoffrey fairly exploded.

  Lizzie flinched, but said nothing. She knew she was speaking the truth.

  “It would appear that Ria was every bit as foolish as I had thought her to be. More so, in fact. How could you have gone along with this?”

  “If you had been at the end of the world, left with nothing, with your heart and soul wracked to its very limits, you might have an inkling of why I did it.” She spoke forcefully but without rancor. “I do not say that I never felt guilty about it. But it was the promise I had made. Also, it was very important that I get to Rosewood.”

  He looked confused at this. “Here? Why?”

  “Ria told me about a cache of letters hidden here that would prove I am Herbert Thornborough’s natural daughter. I wanted to get the proof.”

  “And do you have this proof now?”

  “No. That is, I found two letters, and they are… inconclusive.”

  Geoffrey made a small noise, as though she had confirmed his reasons for being skeptical of her story. “You cannot continue this charade any longer. You must tell Lady Thornborough who you really are.”

  “Yes,” Lizzie agreed. “I must.” It would be a relief to tell Lady Thornborough everything. All her efforts to “become” Ria had in the end done nothing but chafe against her very nature and hurt those she most loved. She was ready to make what amends she could and reclaim her life, miserable though it was.

  Only the question of what to do about Tom still gnawed at her. She would have to persuade him to leave Australia for America, or anywhere else that would keep him beyond Freddie’s reach. He would once again be forced to give up everything for her sake. But would he do it? She desperately hoped he would not return to England to fight Freddie again.

  There was nothing for it but to shore herself up for whatever lay ahead. She began to turn back toward the road. “In fact, we should probably return now.”

  Geoffrey held out a hand. “There is one more thing I would like to ask, before we go.”

  She paused and looked up at him. “Yes?”

  Geoffrey opened his mouth, then closed it again. Once again she saw the heightened color in his cheeks, the tightness around his eyes. Another moment passed. At last he said, “You never said what you had been doing before you and Tom sailed to Australia.”

  A chill began to weave through Lizzie, as though the morning mist had found its way down the back of her neck. “What I did before leaving London has no bearing on this story,” she declared.

  “I believe it does.” He stood very stiff, clenching his hands in a manner Lizzie had seen before, when he was trying to keep his emotions in check. “Before you went to Australia, did you know Freddie Hightower?” He put an ugly emphasis on the word.

  Lizzie stared at him in silent defiance. She should have known he would find out about Freddie. He would have soon, in any case. Nevertheless, she could not bring herself to answer his question.

  She did not need to. He knew. She could see it in the horror and disgust crossing his face. “I offered you marriage,” he said as though it were an accusation. “I was willing to ruin my reputation for a—”

  “Don’t say it,” she cut in angrily. “Do not say the word. If you recall, I turned down your offer. I never intended to marry you.”

  “You never intended…” His face twisted in contempt. “That is to say, you were content only to lead me on?”

  “I did not ask you to come to Rosewood,” she shot back. “You came of your own volition. And I most certainly did not intend to find you in the library last night—where, I might add, you were all too willing to toss aside your own honor and integrity. I denied you because I loved you. You may condemn me for a lot of things, but let me remind you of something, Reverend Somerville. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”

  It gave her strength to see him recoil at these words. Today their souls were laid bare. This was the truth of who they were. She was a fallen woman and a liar. He was a man who had allowed himself to be separated from the lofty ideals he claimed to uphold.

  She prepared herself for another attack, but Geoffrey seemed to have no more fight left in him. He turned away. The sun was beginning to clear away the mist, and he leaned heavily on the low stone wall, looking out across the endless fields.

  It was as she had feared from the beginning. Despite her hopes and dreams to the contrary, she and Geoffrey would never be able to find an equal ground of love and respect. She had thrown herself into last night’s embrace precisely because she had been aware, in the deepest recesses of her heart, that it would be the last.

  Slow, silent tears began to fall down Lizzie’s cheeks.

  *

  Lizzie was not entirely sure how she and Geoffrey made it back to the house. They had at some point turned as if by mutual consent and began walking, keeping a safe distance between themselves as they retraced their steps up the narrow lane.

  They reached the wide gravel drive just in time to see Lady Thornborough’s carriage disappearing down the road that led to town. Lizzie approached Mr. Jarvis, who was still standing near the front door. “Has Lady Thornborough gone out?”

  “Yes, madam.”

  “Do you know where she has gone?”

  “Gone to the station, madam.”

  “To the railway station? She never takes the train.”

  “It is unusual,” Jarvis agreed. “But she was in a great hurry.”

  Lizzie and Geoffrey entered the front hall to find James descending the wide staircase. “Hello,” he said cheerfully. “Have you two been out for a walk already? You look quite done in.”

  “Do you know why Grandmamma has gone to London?” Lizzie asked.

  He shrugged. “No earthly idea.” He pointed to a letter on the side table. “Auntie left a note for you, though.”

  With a tinge of trepidation, Lizzie picked up the letter and opened it.

  My dear,

  I am going to London on urgent business. Something has come up which demands my immediate presence. I shall return in a few days. Stay close to home while I am gone. I will speak to you immediately upon my return.

  The note held only a vague salutatio
n, and no signature. Lizzie was mulling over whether there might be any significance to this when James said, “Well? What has she to say?”

  Lizzie looked up from the letter. “She has gone to London.”

  James clapped his hands together, smiling. “Well, then. We shall make a merry party while she is gone. You, Ria, shall play hostess. Do you feel up to that, dear cousin?”

  “We cannot stay,” Geoffrey said curtly. “It would not be proper. There is no chaperone.”

  Geoffrey had a good reason for requesting a chaperone, Lizzie thought wryly, although it was completely unnecessary. She was sure nothing untoward would be happening in this house tonight.

  “We don’t need a chaperone,” James declared. “We are family, are we not?”

  Geoffrey involuntarily grimaced at that remark. Lizzie thought he might still have his doubts about whether she was a Thornborough, but he knew she was not his sister-in-law. She was afraid he was about to tell James where they really stood on the matter of “family.”

  To her great relief, he chose not to. “As cousins,” Geoffrey returned, “you two are considered eligible for marriage.”

  James snorted. “Nonsense. Ria is like a sister to me. And you are her brother-in-law, so there’s no need—” He cut himself off in midsentence. He looked from Geoffrey to Lizzie with a curious expression.

  We must appear a strange pair, Lizzie thought. Her face was swollen from crying, and Geoffrey’s was solemn and haggard. James might be inferring any number of things from their disheveled appearance. Heat crawled up her face, and she braced herself for one of his highly inappropriate remarks.

  But he simply said, “I see you have made up your mind on the subject, Geoffrey. However, since this is my house, I have no qualms about remaining. Martha has gone to town with Lady Thornborough, but I will station a lady’s maid at Ria’s side night and day if that is what’s required to keep the gossip hounds at bay.”