by Holly West
She swallowed and clasped her hands in front of her tightly. “It was Mr. Barber, Lady Wilde. Your brother.”
I took a deep breath and felt the beginning of a lump in my throat. “What did she intend to do?”
“She was so frightened someone would find out.” Lucinda frowned. “She stopped eating and became so thin I feared she’d lose the baby or die herself. This went on for a couple of weeks.”
“Did anyone besides you know that she was going to have a baby?”
“I don’t think so. She took great pains to hide her sickness and it wasn’t evident in her appearance. But she knew it would eventually become obvious, and what would she do? But then she got the letter.”
“What letter?”
“A letter from Mr. Barber, my lady. Miss Margaret read it to me. It said he was very sick and would probably be dead by the time she received it. She swore to me that she’d find a way to help him and began making plans to leave.”
“Did you help her escape the house?”
She hung her head. “Yes, my lady.”
“That was very brave of you,” I said.
“It might not be right to say it, but Miss Margaret was my friend. I only wish—” Her voice broke. “I only wish I hadn’t helped her. If she had stayed here, she wouldn’t be dead!”
“You did the only thing you could. Margaret would’ve found a way to leave with or without your help.”
“That’s what I tell myself, but I’m not so sure.”
At that moment, Charlotte rushed back into the room. “I hear someone on the stairs, my lady.”
Lucinda braced herself in alarm. “Oh no!”
“It’s all right,” I assured her. “You two return to your quarters. If anybody asks, tell them I required another blanket and Lucinda brought it for me.”
Alone now, I sat down on the bed, reflecting upon what Lucinda had said. The pieces of Margaret and Adam’s story began to fit together and a picture was emerging.
They must’ve begun their liaison around the same time I left for Amsterdam, in March 1665, or perhaps a bit earlier. Margaret had never said anything about it to me, but I’d been consumed by the preparations for my trip. At the time, I thought of little else.
In the months that followed, the plague became a serious threat. So much so that in May, Sir Richard began making plans to close the shop and confine the family to Bingley House until the danger had passed. But in light of Adam’s blossoming romance with Margaret, I didn’t understand why he’d chosen to remain in London by himself. Wouldn’t he have wanted to go with them so that he could be close to her? Unless Sir Richard had somehow learned about their affair and demanded that Adam stay behind. Would he have done such a selfish thing?
Perhaps Adam knew that Sir Richard would never allow him to marry Margaret. She was already betrothed to Nathan Fitch and maybe he wanted to make things easier for her by staying away. That sounded like something Adam would do. He’d want to protect his beloved, even if it meant that he couldn’t be with her. He couldn’t have known about the pregnancy then—even Margaret was unaware of it at that early stage.
So it seemed that in June, Margaret was shut up at Bingley House while Adam stayed in London to mind the business. I didn’t know why he’d moved back to Mrs. Downey’s house instead of staying in Sir Richard’s apartments above the shop, but perhaps he didn’t feel comfortable there, given the circumstances. Then, toward the end of July, he got sick. Mrs. Downey asked him to leave her home and he went to the City pesthouse to die. But not before sending Margaret that letter.
By this time, Margaret knew she was carrying Adam’s child. She’d never be able to pass the baby off as Nathan’s, and besides that, she loved Adam. She wanted to be with him. Knowing he was close to death gave her the courage to run away from Bingley House. She couldn’t let him die alone. She found him at the pesthouse, posed as a plague nurse, and together, they escaped.
After that, I didn’t know what had become of them. But my guess was that when Adam recovered, they’d married. Knowing he would eventually have to face Sir Richard’s anger, Adam involved himself in some illicit business involving the banknotes I’d found, and it had led to his murder. Their baby was born soon afterward and Margaret had fled to America with the infant, Susanna, using the names Ann and Kitty Sutton.
There were still many questions that needed answering. If Margaret Winser was Susanna’s mother, it meant that Susanna’s story about her mother being raised in a poorhouse was completely false. Would Susanna have come up with that story on her own? Or had Margaret lied to her daughter about her own origins? And why did Margaret go to America using a false name instead of returning to her family after Adam died? I didn’t believe that Sir Richard and Lady Winser would’ve rejected her, especially since she’d borne them a grandchild, no matter how she’d transgressed. Had Adam’s murder convinced Margaret that it wasn’t safe for her to stay in London? Exactly what business had Adam been engaged in?
Margaret must’ve had a reason for not going back. I needed to find out what it was.
* * *
Charlotte gently shook my shoulder and told me that it was time to ready myself for supper. I did so quickly and went downstairs to join the family in the Great Chamber, taking my seat beside Lady Winser. A servant poured me a cup of sherry.
“How lovely you look, Isabel,” Lady Winser said.
Emily gave a delicate cough.
“Are you ill, dear?” Lady Winser asked.
“No,” she replied.
The butler announced that supper was served and we filed into the dining room. The table was exquisitely laid with more silver than I had in my entire house, and the cut crystal glistened in the candlelight. We took our seats and James began with a prayer and followed with a toast to my health. Emily frowned and mumbled into her raised glass.
A servant brought out a tureen of leek-and-potato soup and dutifully ladled it into our bowls. From there, supper progressed uneventfully but slowly. The cook had roasted a swan for the occasion and it was served with boiled vegetables and fresh bread. I ate and drank more than I should, but it was all too delicious to pass up. By the time I finished, my stays were poking into my full stomach and I was a little drunk. It was this, perhaps, that made me take Lady Winser to the side as we exited the dining room.
“Might I have a word in private with you, Lady Winser?”
She looked concerned. “Of course, my dear. Is there something wrong with your accommodations?”
“Everything is perfect. But there’s a matter of some delicacy I’d like to discuss with you.”
We went to her study. It was smaller than most of the other rooms in the house but just as luxurious, lined on three sides with bookcases, a small desk, two chairs and a couch. A handsome portrait of Sir Richard hung above the mantel.
For the first time, it occurred to me that I’d not seen any portraits of Margaret anywhere. The other family members, even James’s children, had all been displayed throughout the home, as well as those of relatives I knew to be deceased. It was as if Margaret had never existed.
“What is it, my dear?” Lady Winser asked.
“A young girl claiming to be Adam’s daughter recently visited me. It’s the reason I went to Sir Richard’s shop earlier this week. She’s about twelve years old and calls herself Susanna. After he died, her mother took her to America. I think that Margaret was her mother.”
“Margaret in America? That’s impossible, dear. Margaret died right here in this house.”
Lady Winser had to know the circumstance of her daughter’s leaving. I didn’t see how Sir Richard could’ve possibly kept it from her. “There’s no use pretending, my lady. I know Margaret ran away. Sir Richard admitted it to me himself, and Nathan Fitch confirmed it.”
Caught in her lie, she raised her hands to her
lips. “You’ve spoken with Nathan?”
“Yes, my lady. He knows what really happened to Margaret. He didn’t believe Sir Richard’s story about her death so he went to London himself to look for her. He found her at a pesthouse with Adam and she appeared to be with child.”
Tears filled her eyes. “My God, Isabel. Are you telling me that Margaret is still alive?”
“I’m very sorry, Lady Winser. Susanna told me her mother died six months ago.” I told her the rest of the story, as I knew it. “Did you know that Margaret was going to have a baby?”
She shook her head. “Susanna is my granddaughter?”
“I believe so.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know. She ran away and I haven’t been able to locate her.”
A horrified expression came over Lady Winser’s face. “How could you have allowed her to get away?”
Her accusatory tone annoyed me. “I assure you it wasn’t in my control. I think she’s afraid of something, but I don’t know what.”
“My God, we must find her!”
“I’m doing what I can, my lady, but unfortunately, it seems that she doesn’t want to be found.”
“My husband will use his influence to find her. Have you told him about this?”
“Not yet. I only learned about the pregnancy yesterday.”
“If I had only known,” Lady Winser said. “I knew she was unhappy but her father expected her to marry Nathan. What could I do but agree with him?” Her voice broke. “I never thought I’d lose her because of it.”
I couldn’t fault Lady Winser. I didn’t know any woman who would go against her husband’s wishes, especially where it concerned a daughter’s marriage. Whilst I didn’t think my own father would’ve forced me to marry a man I didn’t love, our station in life was lower than that of the Winsers. The same social rules didn’t apply.
I reached out and touched Lady Winser’s hand. “We’ll get Susanna back,” I said. “I promise you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sunday, 19 January
Perhaps it was the nap I’d taken earlier in the day or because of my work as Mistress Ruby and being accustomed to being up late each night, but it was past one o’clock in the morning and I couldn’t sleep. I lay on my back, staring up at the canopy, unsettled by how quiet the house was. I missed London’s noisy streets.
I slipped into my dressing gown and a pair of mules and took up the candle from the bedside table. I passed through the hallway and entered the Great Chamber, happy to see that the fire had not yet been extinguished.
I sat in one of the upholstered chairs that faced the windows. It was too dark to see outside; instead, I saw myself reflected in one of the small rectangular panes. The image was distorted, but I was dismayed by how peaked and tired I appeared.
The sudden sound of footsteps on the floor behind me caused me to jump.
“Sorry to have startled you,” James Winser said. “I didn’t expect to find anyone up so late.”
“I’m afraid the quiet of the country discomfits me. Sometimes, silence is louder than shouting.”
“For me, it’s just the opposite. I suffer sleepless nights every time I venture to London. May I join you?”
“Please do.”
“Shall I ring for a pot of chocolate?”
Chocolate was expensive and as a result I rarely drank it, but here I saw no reason to refuse it. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
When we were settled with our drinks, James said, “Mother mentioned your conversation, Isabel. She was quite distressed by what you told her tonight. I’ll admit I was angry at first, but upon reflection, I think it’s good you told her. She’s never gotten over Margaret’s loss, and now she feels some hope that she’ll one day meet her granddaughter.”
“‘Twas not my intent to upset her,” I said. “You must know that. The girl’s visit came as a shock to me as well. That she existed at all was a surprise, but she also claimed that Adam had been murdered.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Murdered, you say?”
“Yes. It baffled me to hear it. Sir Richard told me Adam had died of the plague and I believed him.”
“You think Father lied?”
I answered carefully. “I think he told me what he believed to be true. And it still might be—I’ve no evidence that Adam died by someone else’s hand. But since I’ve been looking into it I’ve learned things I could’ve never imagined. Such as Margaret and Adam being together.”
“May I ask how you came upon this information?”
“Nathan Fitch didn’t believe Sir Richard’s story and followed her to London. He saw them together and claims Margaret was with child.”
James nodded, considering my words. “Father concocted the story to protect Nathan’s dignity.”
“Not to mention Margaret’s.”
“That too, I suppose.”
“Did you know about Margaret and Adam?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. But then why would Margaret confide in an older brother?”
“Still—you never guessed?”
“I was rather preoccupied with my own life at the time. I’d just gotten married myself, you know.”
It was as if the entire family were walking around on little floating islands, passing by each other but never touching. If Margaret had indeed been with child, how alone she must’ve felt, living with such an overwhelming secret.
James waved a hand in front of my face. “Hello?” he said, smiling. “Where’ve you gone?”
I laughed. “I’m sorry. You caught me in a reverie. This house is full of memories for me, you know.”
“It is for me, as well, though I suppose in living here, I’ve grown used to them.” He reached out and placed his hand over mine, gently caressing my fingers. I recognized the tender look in his eyes and was afraid he’d try to kiss me. But the moment passed and he gave my hand one last pat before replacing his empty cup on the tray. “It’s late. I should be getting to bed.”
“Good night,” I said.
“Before I go,” he said, tightening the knot of the sash around his waist, “I trust you’re finished with your inquiry?”
“Finished?”
“It seems to me you’ve learned everything there is to know about Adam and Margaret. ’twas a shameful time for our family and we’d rather put it to rest, as I’m sure you understand. We’d appreciate it if you’d keep all of this to yourself.”
“I intend to be discreet,” I said. “But don’t forget there’s still the matter of Adam’s murder, and what about the girl? She’s your niece, just as she is mine.”
“Of course, of course. We all want what’s best for her. I’m just not certain that bringing all of this out into the open is wise.”
His tone remained friendly, but there was no mistaking his meaning. James wanted me to stop looking into Adam’s death, just as his father did. Their fears about the family’s reputation were justified, for there was nothing the London mob liked so much as a scandal, even one over a decade old. But though I had no wish to sully my own brother’s reputation, I’d learned too much about his life and death to give up my quest for truth now. It was a promise I simply could not make.
* * *
I awoke a few hours later. The fire had already been lit, the work of a quiet and competent chambermaid. I was just getting out of bed when Charlotte tiptoed into the room.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, my lady,” she said. “Would you like me to bring you something?”
“No, I think I’ll rise now.”
“I’ll fetch some warm water for your ablutions.”
I put on my dressing gown and went to the window. The sun was low in the sky and there was a smattering of snow on the ground. It would
be a cold journey home.
Charlotte returned with a flagon of water, which she poured into a bowl set upon a tripod-legged table. I stood before it and removed my clothing, then washed myself, enjoying the water perfumed with chamomile, rose and lavender. At home I usually washed with plain water.
She helped me to dress and then went upstairs to pack up her belongings. While she was gone I painted my face, then went to the closet and began gathering my own things. There was a knock on the door while I was folding my dressing gown.
“Come in, Charlotte,” I said, without turning around. The door opened and somebody walked in. “That was quick. Here now, you can transfer my gowns to the trunk.”
When she didn’t reply, I turned to find Emily standing by the door.
“Good morning, Lady Wilde,” she said. “I trust you had a restful sleep?”
“I did, thank you,” I said warily.
“I’m surprised to hear it, considering you stayed up half the night with my husband.”
I sighed inwardly. I wanted to get back to London as early as possible; I had neither the time nor the patience to engage in a discussion with this jealous woman.
“It’s been a lovely visit,” I said, resuming my work.
She gave me a spiteful smile. “What a beautiful woman you’ve become, Lady Wilde. I remember when I married James and first came to Bingley House. I never expected you would make anything of yourself then.” She inspected me from top to bottom. “On second thought, look at you. Widowed and barren, nothing but the king’s whore. Perhaps I was right after all.”
She clearly wanted to fight but I couldn’t see what there was to quarrel about. I had no interest in James and there were more important matters to think about than Emily Winser and her petty jealousy.
I smiled sweetly. “Thank you for inquiring about my night. It’s very comfortable here, really.”
She grabbed my arm and pulled. “You’ll do well to stay away from James.”
Part of me wanted to laugh at her overly dramatic display, but more than anything, I was angry. “Let go of me,” I said, enunciating each word.
