by Jennifer Joy
Mrs. Hepplewhite laughed and blushed. “You are a charmer, Mr. Mauvier. These are my nieces, Theodora and Sophia Hepplewhite. They are staying with us for the season.”
The girls curtsied politely, mouths still open.
“Such lovely girls. You family has been blessed, Mr. and Mrs. Hepplewhite.”
The taller girl, Theodora, blushed and looked at the floor. Sophia, the younger one, grinned as broadly as her lips would allow her.
Looking back at Anne, he said, “I am happy to have run into you, Miss de Bourgh, for there is someone I very much hope for you to meet. If our friends do not mind, might I borrow Miss de Bourgh for just a moment? The woman I want you to meet is seated on the other side of the theater.” He held out his arm for her to take after getting a nod of approval from Mr. Hepplewhite.
When she hesitated, Luc said, “She is a very fascinating elderly woman with some knowledge about your family.”
His suggestion worked. Miss de Bourgh took his arm and told her friends she would be back shortly.
Luc was very aware of her delicate hand resting on his forearm. They wove their way down the stairs and through the crowded lobby. Twice Miss de Bourgh bumped into him to avoid being trampled upon. She was so small in the crowd, Luc was tempted to put his arm around her to steer her through the multitudes and prevent injury. It was all he could do to keep his arm down when he itched to see how his hand would fit in the small of her back.
“Who is she? How does she know my family?” Miss de Bourgh asked in a voice lacking breath. Her normally grey eyes had darkened to a deep blue, and Luc had to remind himself to breathe.
“Excuse me, what did you ask?” he shook his head to gather his thoughts, which were scrambled at the moment.
“Who is the woman you want me to meet? You said she knows my family?” She bit her lower lip and looked up at him, her eyes expectant.
Luc felt his heart beat faster. Anne’s charm was most effective because she was completely unaware of it. He tried to look at her eyes, but became so mesmerized, he forgot how to talk. He looked at her mouth, but the way she chewed on her lower lip was disconcerting, and he forced himself to look away. Finally, he settled with addressing her forehead which now had little furrows across it.
“Ah, you are curious. As you should be, Miss de Bourgh. We are so close to her seat, and I think it best for her to speak for herself.”
Reaching the top stair, they turned to the box and Luc opened the curtain.
“Miss de Bourgh, I believe you met Miss Beatrice earlier today. Miss Beatrice de Bourgh.”
Chapter 15
Anne gasped. “You are my aunt? My father has a sister?” Feeling faint, Anne looked for a chair before her legs became useless. She was grateful for the strength of Luc’s arm and held on tighter as she fought the weakness crashing through her body.
Luc steered her toward a chair next to the woman—her aunt— concern lining his forehead. “Are you well, Miss de Bourgh?”
“Yes, I thank you.” She retracted her arm and collected herself. Addressing both him and Miss Beatrice, she said, “I never knew I had an aunt.” She looked nervously at Miss Beatrice, who sat next to her, her hands folded in her lap, a cane resting against her seat.
Miss Beatrice examined her for a while and Anne did her best to square her shoulders and keep her chin up.
“If we get along, you may call me Aunt. For the meantime, Miss Beatrice will do.”
It sounded like something her mother would have said and, strangely, it put Anne at ease.
“Please, tell me about my father. Is he still alive?” Anne struggled to maintain her composure, but her words trembled. If Miss Beatrice were anything like her own mother, she would pounce on her at the first sign of weakness. Anne knew she must keep calm and appear confident, though she was shaking inside. How long is she going to just sit there looking at me? Will she never answer my question?
Finally, Luc intervened. “She deserves to know, Maman. You must tell her.” Miss Beatrice was so hesitant, and Luc spoke to her so endearingly, that she was sure it was Luc who had arranged the meeting and not the elderly woman.
Miss Beatrice huffed, but she started speaking. “Your father is alive and well. He lives in France.”
Anne clutched her heart. “He is alive! I knew he must be.” In a whisper, she asked, “Does he know about me?”
Miss Beatrice squirmed in her chair and rubbed the top of her cane. She would not look at Anne.
“Did he know I was born?” Anne pleaded a little louder, desperate to know if her father had left her as well as Mother.
Without looking up, Miss Beatrice said, “No.”
It took every bit of Anne’s control to keep her feelings at bay. The lump in her throat made it difficult to talk. While she struggled to keep her reaction calm, she could not help but notice how guilty Miss Beatrice looked. She fiddled with her cane and still would not look at Anne. A doubt crept into her mind. “Miss Beatrice, did you know about me?”
“Yes.” She offered no excuse or explanation.
Anne’s breaths came in short bursts. “You kept my father from me? How… How could you?” A tear soaked into her glove despite her resolve to keep her composure.
She stood to leave. What a wretched woman!
Luc reached out and grabbed her hand as she turned to leave. “Do not go yet. Let me help you.”
Anne wrenched her hand out of his grasp. “You have helped enough already. I must return to my party.”
The steps were blurry, but Anne made it to the bottom without any mishaps. Finding a corner, she hid in it until she could calm herself. It would not do to return to the Hepplewhites in tears. She fumbled to open her reticule to get a handkerchief.
Behind her, a man cleared his throat. Then, someone tapped on her shoulder. She sniffed before turning to see who it was, hoping her eyes were not too red.
A clean, white handkerchief with the initials LM stitched on it was the first thing she saw. A very repentant-looking Mr. Mauvier stood offering it.
“I am so sorry, Miss de Bourgh. I had hoped to bring you good news. Instead, I find that I have only brought you pain. Please forgive me.”
Anne accepted the handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “I am sorry for speaking so brusquely to you. You did not deserve it.”
Mr. Mauvier dusted off his arms. “I am unscathed, as you see. You spoke in a moment of passion and have no need to apologize.”
Anne felt her face burn at the mention of such a word. She needed to change the subject. “Is Miss Beatrice always like that? So… unyielding?”
Luc sighed. “Mostly, yes. But when she grows an attachment to people, she is a fierce protector. I do hope you will give her a chance.”
Adélaïde had said something similar about Miss Beatrice when they had met two weeks ago. How could she give her another chance when the woman had purposely ignored her existence and hid her identity so cunningly at their first meeting?
Anne opened her mouth to protest.
Luc held his hands up in defense. “I do not defend her actions toward you. It was cruel and she must face the consequences. What I hope is that you will not let her past choices prevent you from achieving what you look for.”
Anne looked at the man standing in front of her wide-eyed. “How do you know what I am looking for?”
“I have some knowledge of your family’s history. You have come to find Sir Lewis, have you not?”
There was no use denying it. Mr. Mauvier knew too much. But, she must secure his silence.
“It is true, but I cannot emphasize the importance of your secrecy enough. My family would suffer needlessly and drastically if our secret were made known. May I count on your discretion?” She searched his face for any sign of insincerity.
“You have my word, mademoiselle.” He looked her straight in the eyes and never flinched or wavered.
Anne nodded knowing that it would have to do. She would have to trust him to keep his promise.
> Handing back his handkerchief, she said, “I must return to my box.”
She turned to leave, but felt his hand touch her arm.
“One moment. You missed one tear.” He reached up with his hand and gently touched her cheek. Anne felt fire where the water had been. Luc pulled his hand away as if he had been burned. Awkwardly, he said, “There. Now you are perfect.”
It was nice to hear, even though she doubted he meant it in a complete sense. They stood looking at each other. Anne knew she should leave, but she yearned for the comfort Luc offered, and wanted to hold on to it. A gentleman bumped into her and just like that, the moment was gone.
When she turned again to leave, an idea struck her. Mother always invited the neighbors she least liked to her home to keep appearances. She often said that she preferred to meet her enemies in her home. It somehow gave her an advantage. Miss Beatrice may not be an enemy, but Anne had not yet ruled out the possibility.
“Mr. Mauvier, will you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
His quick response and eager willingness made Anne forget for a moment what she wanted to ask.
“Em… Rather… Would you please ask Miss Beatrice to call on me tomorrow at The Golden Lion Hotel? All unpleasantness aside, I do wish to see my father and… she owes me an explanation.” Anger would help her face the rest of the evening and she embraced it. It was preferable to tears.
“I will go to her now. Enjoy the rest of the evening, Miss de Bourgh.” He bowed and gave her a crooked grin.
She has some fire in her.
Luc put his handkerchief into his breast pocket and patted it to the rhythm of his steps up to see Miss Beatrice.
Pulling the curtain back, he frowned at her.
“Do not look at me like that,” she snapped at him.
“You behaved most atrociously toward your own niece. Still, she wants you to meet her at The Golden Lion tomorrow during the normal calling hours. I will give her this: she is one tenacious woman.”
Miss Beatrice sighed. “And you like her, I suppose. You see yourself as her knight in shining armor.” The words were sarcastic, but Luc chose to take them literally.
“Does not every woman deserve a champion for her cause? What is so wrong with me wanting to help a damsel in distress?”
“You do not know she is in any distress. She, no doubt, has led a life more comfortable to anything you have known since your childhood.”
“And yet, here she is alone with only a maid, and staying in a hotel. No, Miss Beatrice, something is wrong and I think it has everything to do with Sir Lewis.”
Miss Beatrice shrugged her shoulders. “I will soon find out if I call on her tomorrow.”
“If?” Luc gave his most disapproving look. He felt like he was scolding a child.
“All right, all right. I will go. But if she puts on airs like her mother… I have worked very hard to keep that woman out of my life and out of my brother’s. I will not allow her offspring to ruin our peace.”
“Just… Give her a chance. Please.” It was an order more than a plea, and Maman begrudgingly acquiesced.
Luc left, content with his efforts. He had done the best he could, and now it was up to Miss Beatrice and Miss de Bourgh.
Several times during the evening, he looked up into the box where Miss de Bourgh sat. At first, she was very solemn, but it was lovely to see her face light up when she smiled during the concluding clown act. Though she was clearly a full-grown woman, there was a sweet innocence in her face like a little girl expressing her merriment with no restraints. He wondered what that laugh sounded like.
Even hours after the theater closed, Luc thought about Miss de Bourgh. She was intriguing and so unlike any other woman he had met before— not within the ranks of society in the ton nor in his theater with the freer lifestyles of the actresses. How would a man go about courting a woman like Miss Anne?
Luc quickly dismissed thoughts of courtship, pushing them away as if they were a disease. He enjoyed his life the way it was, and saw no need to complicate it with the added responsibilities and burdens of marriage. He was a career man and enjoyed whatever company he pleased.
However, Miss Anne’s face loomed before him the next morning. He still felt the smoothness of her cheek on his fingertip. He had slept well, and the pleasant dreams of a very different kind of life with her left their sweet aftertaste.
As Luc readied himself for another busy day, he came to a decision which could change his life. Whether for the better or for the worse remained to be seen.
Anne paced her room and glanced at the clock. Nancy had given her some hems to practice her stitches on, but she did not have the concentration to keep her stitches even. She would tend to it later.
She looked about her room to ensure nothing was out of place. By the window opposite the door, she had placed two chairs on either side of a table and she planned to order some tea to be sent up when her aunt arrived… if she arrived. Her father’s locket lay on the table, open to show his picture next to her mother. She hoped the sight of his picture would appease Miss Beatrice’s prickliness.
The door knocked and a boy stood there with Miss Beatrice behind him. Anne thanked him and asked for some tea to be brought up. The boy scurried about his business, leaving Anne alone with her aunt.
“Please, do come in. I apologize for the cramped size of the room, but it will give us the privacy we need.”
Miss Beatrice entered and sat down stiffly.
For a moment, both ladies sat looking at each other; measuring each other. Anne had many questions for Miss Beatrice, but she was uncertain how to start, and hoped the older woman would say something in conversation. However, that did not happen and Miss Beatrice seemed to grow impatient as she sat and waited for Anne to begin. She tapped her cane against the side of the table.
Very well then. If she is determined to act as prickly as a rose bush, I shall get straight to the point.
“Why did Father leave my mother?” Anne held her chin up and kept her voice steady.
“My dislike for Lady Catherine is severe enough that I insist my friends call me by my first name. The less association I have with that woman, the better. That simple fact is that your mother made my brother miserable.” She spat the words and Anne felt her venom like a slap on the face. “Their troubles started the very day the wedding ceremony was held. But, Lewis was faithful and obliging to your mother in the hopes that an heir would be born. After six years of barrenness, even that hope was taken from him. He had grown sickly with the constant strife in his house. So, he decided to leave. It was either that or stay and die much too young. He is younger than me, you know. Political troubles were brewing in France, but he preferred the threat of direct violence over the subtle manipulations within his own household. I helped him make arrangements to cross the channel after he faked his death. He did not know when he left that your mother was… indisposed. Anyway, that is the long and short of it.”
“Did you tell him when I was born? Did anybody?” The hurt Anne felt at being overlooked before she was even born squeezed her throat. Was I not worth knowing about?
“No. If Lewis knew, he would have immediately returned to England and opened up a scandal that would have ripped our family to shreds. He had been declared dead. Your mother arranged a grand funeral, though she knew his death to be a farce. I guess she wanted him out of her life just as much as he wanted to leave.”
“You do not understand my mother completely and I thank you to speak of her with more respect. She has a difficult personality, as do you, but she stayed with me. She raised me alone, which is more than I can say for my own father. And you… you certainly kept your distance over the years. Did you really hate my mother so much that you would deny me, your own niece, your company?” Anne’s chest heaved and her eyes burned.
A knock announced the arrival of their tea. Anne received it and poured the piping hot liquid into their cups, taking care not to spill with her shaking hands.
“I have answered your questions and been chastised for my honesty. Now, answer my question. What are you doing in town? Why are you looking for Lewis?”
Anne’s nerves were raw. The reproof in Miss Beatrice’s tone lit a fire in her and she was determined not to weaken in front of that impossible woman.
“I only last month learned of my father’s existence. Like everyone else, I was raised to believe that he had died before I was born. By chance, I found a letter from him which my mother had saved. It was dated after his supposed death. When I asked Mother about it, she refused to talk. When I insisted, she threw me out of my home. I stayed with a family until yesterday, when they received unexpected company, and I was forced to find other arrangements.”
She had Miss Beatrice’s full attention. “Did you have any money?”
“No. My maid has saved me from shame by packing my best gowns. We have been selling them. Now, she has work at Adélaïde’s dress shop and I recently began painting miniatures.” Anne refused to feel ashamed for pawning her possessions and working to earn money. It was not considered ladylike and, no doubt, her aunt would disapprove just as her mother would.
Instead of the reproof she was waiting for, Miss Beatrice clutched her cane and took a long sip of tea. Her posture relaxed in her chair.
“It is no wonder you could find no information about your father. We did such a good job feigning his death… And I have purposely lived a quiet and secluded life. I know I am not very easy to find.” She rubbed the top of her cane, contemplating Anne.
“I wonder at your mother keeping Lewis’s letter…” She picked up the locket on the table and looked at their pictures. “You look nothing like your mother, you know. In fact, when I first saw you, I thought I was looking at my reflection from forty years past. Except for the eyes. You inherited your mother’s stormy eyes…” She spoke while looking at the pictures, her thumb rubbing over the image of her brother.
