by Anne Herries
She must do something to help her companion. For some time now Amelia had been considering the idea of trying to find Emily’s child. The babe had been taken from her at birth and she did not even know where her daughter was. If she could be told that the little girl was well and healthy, living happily with her foster parents, perhaps this deep ache inside her might ease.
Amelia had hesitated because she did not wish to cause her companion more pain, but to see Emily unhappy even when she was in company was hard to bear.
Instead of brooding on her own problems, she would think about Emily. Surely there must be a way of finding the child?
Having changed into a fresh gown, Amelia prepared to go down and join Emily. She would say nothing to her for the moment, but after Christmas she would see what could be done.
Alone in his bedchamber, Gerard paced the floor. It seemed he was caught between a rock and a hard place—if he spoke to Amelia and she accepted his offer of marriage, it might place her in danger. Yet if her brother did plan her death in order to inherit her fortune, she needed protection. If she married, she would no longer be at the mercy of her grasping relatives.
He was aware of a burning need to protect her. Amelia was his, the love of his life. He could not give her up because of an obscure threat. He would make every effort to keep her safe. It would probably be best to let her know he believed she might be in some danger, but he was sure that she was safe enough for the moment. Harry would alert his servants to be on the lookout for strangers, and by the time she was ready to leave Pendleton he would have measures in place for her protection. He would summon the men he had used once before.
He could at least do this for the woman he loved, though he was still undecided whether to speak to her of marriage. Did he have the right? Amelia was still beautiful, a woman of fortune and charm and she must be much sought after. He had heard whispers, her name linked with various gentlemen, but nothing seemed to come of the rumours. Gerard had no idea whether she had received offers. If she had, she had turned them down—why? Was she suspicious of the motives behind every proposal that came her way? Did she imagine that no one could love her for herself? Surely not! And yet if her brother had been browbeating her because of her fortune, it would not be surprising if she thought others interested only in her wealth.
Gerard decided that he would tell no one else of his suspicions until Christmas was over, because he wanted it to be a happy time for Amelia and his daughter. He certainly did not wish to cast a shadow over the festivities for Susannah and her guests.
‘Susannah asked me to help with the younger children,’ Emily said to Amelia as they went downstairs together that afternoon. ‘She thinks that they will need help to unwrap their presents and Nanny has been given time off.’
Amelia saw the happy smile on her face. Emily loved children and the knowledge that her own daughter was living with another family must be torture for her. She wondered if Emily had ever tried to discover the whereabouts of her child, but supposed it was unlikely. She had devoted her life to her ailing mother until that lady died and had then been forced to look for work. Perhaps Amelia might mention the possibility to Emily another day, but now was not the time.
‘I think Susannah is very brave to have the children’s party without her nanny, for I am certain that some of the ladies have no idea of looking after their own children.’
‘I think it will be great fun. I always wished that I had brothers and sisters, and envied those who did.’ The wistful expression had come back to Emily’s face.
Amelia saw it and made up her mind that she would ask someone to make enquiries concerning the lost child for her. However, it would be better to say nothing to Emily for the moment in case the child could not be found.
‘I am certain that we shall enjoy ourselves this afternoon,’ Amelia said. ‘I am eager to meet Gerard’s daughter. She has been brought up in France until the past few months, and I dare say she may not understand English as well as she needs to if she is to communicate with the other children. I know that Gerard’s nanny will be present, so we shall have help.’
The two ladies smiled at each other as they approached the large salon where the celebrations for the younger guests were taking place. Entering, they saw that the room had been decorated with silver and gold stars; there was also a crib with wooden animals and a doll representing the Baby Jesus and two of the servants were dressed as Joseph and Mary. Some of the other servants were dressed as the three kings, and they had big sacks of gifts. These would be distributed to the children at the end of the entertainment.
All kinds of delicious foods that might appeal to children had been set out on a table: sweet jellies, bottled fruits, cakes and tiny biscuits, also fingers of bread and butter with the crusts cut off and spread with honey.
‘Amelia…Miss Barton.’ Gerard approached them with a smile. ‘May I have the pleasure of introducing my daughter, Lisa, to you? Lisa—this is Miss Amelia Royston—and Miss Emily Barton. Greet them nicely, my love.’
‘Bonjour, Mademoiselle Royston, bonjour, Mademoiselle Barton,’ Lisa said and dipped a curtsy. ‘I am pleased to meet you.’ She tipped her head and looked at Gerard. ‘Was that correct, Papa?’
Her manner was that of a little coquette. She was pretty, an enchanting little doll dressed in satin and frills, her dark eyes bright and mischievous; ringlets the colour of hazelnuts covered her head and were tied with a pink ribbon. Amelia adored her at once, completely understanding why Gerard had fallen in love with his daughter. For although Lisa did not carry his blood, she was undoubtedly his in every other way and the affection between them was a joy to see.
‘It was charming, Mademoiselle Ravenshead.’ Amelia smiled at her and held out her hand. ‘Your English is very good. I see that you have been attending your lessons. Shall we go and see what Lady Pendleton has given us for tea?’
‘Papa always speaks to me in English.’ Lisa hesitated, then placed her tiny hand in Amelia’s. She looked at her in a confiding manner. ‘I am hungry, but Nanny said that I was not to eat anything. She says that the food is not suitable for me.’
‘Oh, I think it would be a shame if you were not to have any of it,’ Amelia replied. ‘Perhaps not too much chocolate cake, but I think a small piece and some bread and honey could not hurt anyone.’
‘We always had honey for tea in France,’ Lisa told her with a happy smile. ‘Nanny says a boiled egg is better, but I like honey for tea.’
‘Well, do you know, so do I. Shall we have some?’
‘Yes, please. Can I have a piece of cake? Nanny doesn’t allow me cake.’ Lisa looked sorrowful and then a smile peeped out. ‘I have cake sometimes with Papa.’
‘I think Christmas is an exception, don’t you? Besides, Lady Pendleton would be very upset if all this lovely food went to waste—do you not think so?’
‘Yes, I should think so,’ Lisa said, giving her a naughty look. ‘Could I have some of that red jelly, please?’
‘I think perhaps that would be acceptable,’ Amelia said. ‘We shall have bread and honey and a jelly each—and then a piece of cake. How does that sound?’
‘I beg your pardon, Miss Royston, but I do not allow my charge to eat such rich food as a rule.’
Amelia turned her head to look at the woman who had spoken. The child’s nanny was a severe-looking woman with irongrey hair and a thin mouth. She was perhaps fifty years of age and had doubtless ruled more than one nursery with a rod of iron. Amelia took an instant dislike to her, but hid it behind a polite smile.
‘I believe we should relax the rules a little, Nanny,’ she said pleasantly. ‘This is Christmas, after all, and the earl asked me especially to make sure that his daughter enjoys herself. Lisa will not eat too much.’
‘It is just that I do not wish her to be sick all night, ma’am.’
‘I do not think it likely,’ Amelia said. ‘Please do what you can to help with the other children, Nanny. Lisa will be quite safe with me.’
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The woman nodded and moved away. From the set of her shoulders, Amelia guessed that she was angry. She hoped that her refusal to accept Nanny’s authority would not lead to some form of punishment for Lisa later.
‘Do you like to play games?’ she asked Lisa, making up her mind that she would speak to Gerard on the subject of his daughter’s nanny later.
‘I do not know, mademoiselle. I have never played any—except that Papa takes me up on his horse with him sometime. We run and chase each other in the garden when Nanny cannot see us. Is that a game?’
‘Yes, one kind of a game but there are many others. Do you not have puzzles or a hoop to play with?’
‘Papa gave me things when we came to England, but Nanny says I should study my books. She says playing with toys is a waste of time.’
‘Does she indeed?’ Amelia kept her voice light and without criticism. ‘Lady Pendleton has several games for us to play today—musical chairs and pass the parcel, and I have seen some spilikins. I think that you and I might play these games together. It is Christmas, after all—and there are prizes to be won.’
Amelia smiled as she saw the little girl’s face light up. Gerard was right to be concerned about his daughter’s nanny. Lisa was clearly a high-spirited child and needed discipline, but not to the extent that she was forbidden time to play or the food that she enjoyed.
Two hours later, Amelia had fallen totally in love with her new friend. Lisa had blossomed, becoming a natural, happy little girl, as they joined in noisy games of pass the parcel and musical chairs. Susannah had been in charge of the music and saw to it that every child managed to win a small gift, which was most often sweetmeats or a trinket of some kind. Lisa won a little silver cross on a pink ribbon, and as a gift she was given a doll with a porcelain head and a stuffed body. It was wearing a pink satin dress that matched hers and, when the party ended, she ran to show it to her father.
‘Beautiful,’ he said and kissed her, gazing at Amelia over the child’s head. ‘Has this scamp of mine been good, Amelia?’
‘Oh, I think so,’ Amelia said. ‘We have enjoyed ourselves, have we not, Lisa?’
‘Oui, merci, mademoiselle,’ Lisa said and curtsied to her. ‘Will you come and see me again, please? I would like you to be my friend.’ There was something a little desperate in the child’s look as she saw her nurse coming to claim her. ‘Please…’
‘Yes, certainly. I shall come in the morning,’ Amelia said. ‘I have a gift for you, Lisa—and I think we could go for a walk together in the park or even a ride in the carriage since it is cold. You, your papa and me—how would that be?’
‘I should like it above all things, mademoiselle.’ Lisa threw herself at Amelia and hugged her.
‘Come along, Miss Ravenshead,’ Nanny said. ‘You are over-excited. You will never sleep and I shall be up all night with you.’ The woman shot a look of dislike at Amelia.
Mindful that it would take time to replace her, Amelia made no reply. However, she turned urgently to Gerard as Nanny led the child away.
‘I must speak to you privately. I have made certain observations and I think you should consider replacing that woman.’
‘You do not like her either?’ Gerard looked relieved. ‘I am so glad that I asked you to take note, Amelia. She was recommended to me, but I have thought her too sour. I was not sure if I was being unfair—and I know that children need discipline…’
‘Not to the extent that all the joy of life is squeezed out of them,’ Amelia said as they walked from the room into a smaller parlour where they were alone. ‘Lisa is high-spirited, but she is a delightful child and has good manners. I think Nanny is too strict with her. She is not allowed to play or to have honey for tea—and that I must tell you is a terrible deprivation.’
‘And entirely unnecessary,’ Gerard said and laughed. ‘I knew I might rely on you, my very dear Amelia. I was afraid that my partiality for Lisa made me too lenient. I have a nursemaid. I shall put her in charge and dismiss Nanny. Oh, I will give her a year’s wages and a reference, but she shall not have charge of my daughter again.’
‘Oh dear, the poor woman. I feel terrible now for she has lost her employment, and at Christmas—but I confess that I did not like her. I once employed a woman of that sort at the orphanage and had to dismiss her soon after, because she ill treated her charges. I do not understand why some people feel it is necessary to treat children as if they were criminals.’
‘Some can be little monsters. I remember that I used to put frogs in the bed of my nanny.’
‘Did you? I did that once and she went to my father. He sent me to bed and I was given nothing but bread and water for two days—and I had to apologise.’
‘My father thrashed me. It did me the world of good, for as he said—think what a shock it was for the poor frog.’
‘The frog…’ Amelia went into a peal of delighted laughter. ‘Oh, no! That is a great deal too bad of you, sir. You have a wicked sense of humour.’
‘Yes, I have at times,’ Gerard admitted. ‘Though I have not laughed so very much of late. Amelia…may I tell you something?’
‘Yes, of course.’
He led her towards a little sofa. ‘Please sit down. This is not easy for me. I have wished to tell you something that almost no one else knows, but I fear it may give you a bad opinion of me.’
‘Have you done something wicked?’ she asked with a smile.
‘I have not told you the whole truth about something.’
Amelia’s smile faded. This was clearly serious. ‘Please explain. I do not understand.’
‘I told you that my wife died after a long illness?’ Amelia nodded. ‘It was not quite the truth. She had been ill, but she had recovered in her physical health at least, though I know now that she must still have been suffering in her mind.’
‘Gerard! Please explain. I do not understand.’
‘Lisette seemed happy enough while she was carrying the child, but afterwards…she complained that I did not love her—that I thought more of the child…’
‘Surely any father would love their child? Perhaps she was pulled down by the birth? I have heard that some women are deeply affected by childbirth.’
‘Yes, it may have been that…’ Gerard hesitated. Now was his chance to tell her the whole truth, but he was reluctant. ‘I may have neglected her. I tried to be good to her, to give her my protection and all that she needed, but perhaps it was not enough for her. I am not the man I was when we first met, Amelia. I have become harder, I think, less caring of others.’
‘Oh, Gerard! I cannot think that you deliberately mistreated your wife?’
He stroked the little scar at his temple. ‘No, not deliberately, but I may have been careless perhaps. Lisette was vulnerable, easily hurt. I should have been kinder.’ He paused, then, ‘It may not be possible for me to love anyone completely. Something died in me the night your brother had me thrashed. At first I believed that you knew—that you felt insulted by my love. I suppose that I became afraid to show love, and Lisette suffered because of my lack.’
Gerard hesitated. He wanted to tell her that Lisette’s death was his fault, to tell her of the night when Lisette had crept into his bed and offered herself to him—of the way he had turned from his wife, because she was not the woman he had loved so deeply. It would be right and fair to make Amelia aware of what he had done, but he could not bear to see her turn from him in disgust. He knew that Lisette had been terribly hurt—that it had driven her to a desperate act.
‘What happened—how did she die?’
‘One day when I was out she ordered a bath and then…’ He paused, almost choking on the words. ‘When I returned I found her. She had slashed her wrists and bled to death. I pulled her from the water and did what I could for her. She died in my arms…’ His face twisted with pain. ‘I did not mean to hurt her. She must have been desperately unhappy and I was not there for her. Something in me must be lacking. How could I not know that my own w
ife was so desperate that she would take her own life? I have blamed myself for her death ever since.’
He had told her the truth, leaving out only a few details that he felt unable to communicate.
‘Gerard…’ Amelia was on her feet. She held out her hands to him, her expression understanding and sympathetic. ‘My dear—how terrible for you! It was a tragedy for a life was lost—but it was not your fault. Lisette could not have recovered completely from the birth. How could you have known she was unhappy if she did not tell you?’
‘She may have been unwell, but I was not aware of it. I should have known.’
‘You rescued her when she was alone. You married her, were kind to her so she turned to you, gave you her heart. If she felt unsure of your love, it may have made her desperately unhappy, but the blame is not all yours.’
‘You see things so clearly…’ Gerard moved closer, his eyes searching her face. ‘So you do not hate me? You will not turn away in disgust? You understand that I am not as I once was?’
‘I could never hate you. Surely you know…’
‘I know that you are a wonderful, wise and lovely woman,’ Gerard said passionately. ‘I would be honoured if you would become my wife, Amelia. You were prepared to marry me all those years ago. Dare I hope that you still find the idea agreeable?’
‘Gerard…’ Amelia gasped. ‘Yes…’
She meant to say more, but he lowered his head to kiss her on the lips. Amelia responded with all the love that was in her, her arms going about his neck as her body melded with his. This was what she had longed for, dreamed of so many lonely nights! She had never expected to be so fortunate.
‘My beautiful Amelia,’ Gerard said. ‘I am a fool! You are such a sensible woman. You understand everything. You would not do something stupid because of a foolish quarrel. I should have asked long ago. You are exactly the woman I need in my life. You will not expect more than I am able to give.’
Amelia withdrew a little. She waited for him to say the words she needed to hear, but he did not speak of love and she was conscious of a slight disappointment.
