A sudden impatience encompassed her. Perhaps it was discovering her mother’s maiden name. She had wondered for years of her mother’s family. Her uncle told her they had disowned her mother and had no interest in her. Given the circumstances, she had not questioned her uncle.
Strange the name did not seem familiar. Tyndale. The duke’s advice did not go unheeded. She understood right enough that if her grandfather hadn’t contacted her after twenty-three years, it would seem he had no interest in her. But she had an interest. Where was her mother?
Her Grace said her grandfather had been a prominent businessman, having made his fortune in the coal business. If Her Grace had met her mother in the park, perhaps she had not lived far from here.
Harriet hadn’t a plan. She walked without a destination. She hadn’t a clue what she sought. No, that wasn’t right. She did know what she wanted—an explanation. She wanted to be enlightened how a mother could abandon her child…how she abandoned her!
“Harriet.”
Harriet glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see it was Carlisle who called to her. Harriet paused at the corner. Carlisle walked hurriedly toward her, looking quite debonair in his dress. She had never thought him a dandy, but he looked every bit the part this morning: a well-cut waistcoat, perfectly tied neckcloth, his shiny black boots.
“James,” she said. “Please do not feel you have to accompany me. The day beckons. I needed to walk. If you note, there is one of your uncle’s footmen behind me. So there is nothing to worry about. Moreover, you look as if you are prepared to go calling.”
“Nothing of importance. The lady can wait,” he said in a light manner, taking her hand through his arm. His eyes took on a shine of conspiracy. “Do tell me where you head this morn.”
“You talked with your uncle,” she said. His face betrayed he had. “Of course, you did.”
“Ah, do not let me put a damper on your plans. I come only for support,” he said. He looked right and then left. He raised his eyebrows slightly. “I believe you want to take a left.”
“You are going to help me. I thought…”
“I have known you well enough to know that eventually you will find a way. Or maybe it's that I understand your need.”
“You did not know your mother?” she asked, strolling beside him.
“Unfortunately, I do not remember either of my parents. My parents died shortly after my birth. I have often wondered about them. At least, I know what happened. It would be hard to accept if I didn’t know their fate.”
“Thank you. I suppose it is a small matter, considering all we are dealing with. It is only I don’t know about my mother. When Lady Torridge mentioned her, all the questions I held within me surfaced…”
“You don’t need to say more, Harriet. I disagree with Uncle. I believe answers should be had, no matter if what you seek hurts. At the least, you can find a semblance of closure. Besides, it gives me the opportunity to talk with you in private.”
Harriet glanced over at Carlisle and studied him. His carefree mood dissipated. He pressed his lips as if giving great consideration to his words. “I want to ask for forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness?” Harriet asked, confused. “For what?”
“When we met. Afterwards, telling you of Arthur’s marriage in the manner I did. More for hurting you.”
“I forgave you long ago, James. You must know that. You set me up for a life I could accept. You were there for me when I had no one else. There’s nothing to forgive.”
“No, this is a long time coming. Don’t take it from me.” He shook his head and sighed. “Everything I did for you, I did because Arthur demanded it.”
“That I don’t believe. You gave yourself freely to being my friend and an uncle for my daughter.” Her expression softened and she smiled at Carlisle. “You thought I wasn’t worthy of your friend. You thought me strange, with reason.” She tilted her face to catch his eye. “Am I wrong?”
He chuckled. “No,” he said plainly. “It is only I needed to say the words.”
“Do not worry about me, James. It was long ago forgiven. But while you are in the mood to talk, I will admit I do have something gnawing at me. Arthur won't listen to me. It is only...I feel...Victoria and I are imposing on His Grace. Do you not think it's strange that we are staying with your family? Her Grace could not know that I am the woman who caused her daughter such pain.”
“No, she does not, but my uncle is well aware of the circumstances. He knows it was not of your doing. You gave Arthur back to Sophia. I will not reiterate the past, but I will say that during Arthur’s marriage to Sophia, a bond formed between my uncle and Arthur.
“They had a common purpose. Arthur did everything in his power to save Sophia from herself. It was difficult.”
Harriet nodded. She, too, didn’t want to reiterate the past. She changed the subject. “I admit that I was surprised to see you this morning. I thought you would have been with Arthur.”
“It was something that Arthur needed to do with his brother alone.”
Harriet imagined it had to do with Bessie. Arthur had not been forthcoming with his investigation, but she would not force Carlisle’s hand at this time.
Turning down the next street, Carlisle halted in front of a grand townhouse. “This is the address of Mr. Oliver Tyndale.”
Harriet stared at the residence. They had not walked far. The home was flanked by similar houses along the street, red brick surrounded by an iron wrought fence. Rich and elegant in appearance, it gave no doubt of the importance of its occupants.
“Come,” Carlisle said. “The answers you seek lie ahead.”
Suddenly, fear gripped her. “I don’t know, James. What if he refuses to see me?”
“An impossibility,” Carlisle said with conviction. “No one will refuse to give Lady Daneford an audience and I won’t desert you.”
Leaving her at the foot of the stairs, Carlisle walked up the steps and rang the bell.
The drawing room was quite large and imposing. The chamber had an exotic feel. Decorated with vases ornate with exquisite designs, a carved dragon centered on a pedestal, lacquered tables lined with miniature figurines, the Turkish carpet: all gave the distinct impression of the Far East. Tall windows draped with dark burgundy curtains had yet to be drawn, giving the room an unearthly ambience.
A formidable lady greeted them. Tall, willowy, her gray hair pulled back in a harsh bun, she dressed in a somber black gown with a pearl brooch. She towered over Harriet.
“Lady Daneford, Mr. Carlisle, I’m Mrs. Tyndale. Please, sit. I have sent for refreshment. You have to forgive me. I’m afraid we have not entertained visitors for a time.”
After the introductions, she indicated chairs by the fireplace. Harriet sat, staring at the woman. Strange, this woman could well be a relative. Yet, she felt no bond, no connection.
Carlisle chose to remain standing. He said, “We don’t wish to impose upon you, Mrs. Tyndale, but Lady Daneford is visiting with my aunt and uncle, the Duke and Duchess of Torridge. While there, she made the most interesting discovery of a connection to the Tyndale family.”
Mrs. Tyndale’s eyebrows rose and gazed attentively at Harriet. “Lady Daneford has a connection to my family? I’m sorry, you have me confused.”
“I only recently married Lord Arthur Daneford, Mrs. Tyndale. I was formally Henrietta Burke,” Harriet said.
Once she had uttered the words, the whole of her being shuddered. She was nervous with anticipation. The thought startled her. She hadn’t expected to be so optimistic about the possibility of reuniting with her family.
Mrs. Tyndale became even more formidable. Her eyes darkened. “Henrietta Burke. Georgiana’s daughter.”
“Yes, Georgiana was my mother. I’m afraid I know little about her, but I have hopes of meeting my grandfather and my other relatives.”
“Lady Daneford, I’m sorry to dash those hopes, but my husband long ago disowned your mother. Her name hasn’t been uttere
d within these walls for decades. My husband is ill and I don’t want him upset.”
“Surely, Mrs. Tyndale, you will make an exception. I promise not to upset my grandfather, but I need to know what happened to my mother. You need to understand I know little about her. She disappeared from my life when I was but an infant. If Mr. Tyndale doesn’t want to see me, at least let me know where my mother is.”
“I’m afraid I won’t have my husband upset,” Mrs. Tyndale said firmly. She shook her head. “We have heard nothing from our daughter since well before she departed after the duel.”
“Pardon me, Mrs. Tyndale,” Carlisle said, seeking a way past the guard that held her off. “Do you mind if I ask whether you are Lady Daneford’s grandmother or step-grandmother?”
“Georgiana was my daughter.”
Harriet shivered at the cold response. For an instant, her eyes caught Mrs. Tyndale’s, but the woman’s eyes were blank and betrayed no emotion.
Carlisle moved around to Mrs. Tyndale. “I only want you to understand Lady Daneford’s position. She has never had a mother. She wishes to know who her mother was at one time. She asks nothing of you or your husband. A moment only to meet her grandfather. What harm could be done?”
Mrs. Tyndale showed her first sign of a feeling. “My husband is not a well man. His heart. Some days he can't get out of bed. He gets frustrated at times and becomes agitated. I cannot have that. We had Georgiana late in life and he worshipped her. He had such high hopes for her. Her behavior devastated him. I’m afraid of what the mention of Georgiana would do to him.”
Harriet took quick advantage of the slip of emotion. She pleaded, “Please, give me only a moment. I promise never to bother you again. I will not mention who I am. I will say only I’m the daughter of an old friend.”
Mrs. Tyndale wavered. Her eyelids drooped over her dark eyes. She breathed in deeply and relented. “A moment only. If for any reason he becomes agitated, I will have to ask you to leave.”
“Without question,” Harriet agreed.
Without further conversation, Harriet and Carlisle were ushered up the stairs. They entered in a chamber that served as an anteroom. The drawn curtains allowed the sunlight to filter into the room. An elderly gentleman sat silently in a dark chair, staring out the window blankly, a shadow of his former self.
Crisply dressed, the man looked ready for the day except for the absent look in his eyes. A heavyset man stood in the corner. Harriet assumed he was a companion of some sort.
“Oliver, you have guests,” Mrs. Tyndale said, walking around to Harriet’s side. Then surprisingly, Mrs. Tyndale gently reached for Harriet’s hand. “Oliver, this is Lady Daneford. She is the daughter of an old friend of ours. She wanted to pay her respects.”
“Yes. Yes,” he answered with a puzzled expression. “Old friend. Of course.”
Harriet didn’t bother with a chair. Instead, she knelt down. “Mr. Tyndale, I have waited a long time to meet you.”
He smiled down at her. Then suddenly, he grasped Harriet’s hands tightly, too tightly. “Who…who are you? Where’s Sarah?”
“I’m here.” Mrs. Tyndale spoke in a soothing tone. “Gentle, Oliver. Lady Daneford is our guest.”
He looked again at Harriet, as if he were trying to remember. Tears swelled in Harriet’s eyes. Blinking back tears, she swallowed the disappointment sweeping through her. Despite the warnings, she had hoped for a reunion that wasn’t to be.
His eyes softened. Reaching into his waistcoat, he pulled out a handkerchief. Reaching over, he wiped her wet cheek. Instinctively, she grasped his warm hand against her face.
Her next breath, Harriet was no longer kneeling beside her grandfather.
Breaking through a haze, she stood within a drawing room. Before her, she saw the woman she had seen before—her mother.
Seemingly anxious, Georgiana stood at the window. Then she turned abruptly toward an open door. A man walked in and smiled.
He wore a red uniform waistcoat of His Majesty’s Army, white trousers with shiny black boots. His hat he held in his hand. His light brown hair was pulled back in a queue. A scar ran across one side of his face. Quite handsome in a rugged sort of way.
Georgiana raced over to him. He took her hands in his and kissed them. “It is set. Your father has accepted my offer for your hand.”
“Oh, Harry, I am so happy. Truly, I am. I don’t deserve you.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “It is I who am the fortunate one.”
“I will make you happy. I promise you will not regret this day. I will make you the best of wives. I will go with you wherever you go. I want only to be beside you,” she rambled.
Wrapping his arm about her waist, he kissed her. Breaking from her lips, he uttered, “I trust you, Georgiana.”
“I will never betray you. Never.”
Catching her breath, Harriet watched the scene fade, but the words resonated around her. I will never betray you. Never.
“Harriet.”
Harriet looked up to see Carlisle hovering over her. She shook her head. “I’m fine. Truly, I am.” She took her grandfather’s hand and raised it to her lips. “Thank you, Mr. Tyndale, for allowing me this visit.” She kissed it and laid it back in his lap.
Carlisle extended his hand to her. She rose. “It’s best if we leave now, James.”
Harriet took a step toward the door when her grandfather called out, “Harriet. James.” He repeated, “Harriet. James.”
Harriet glanced back at the old man, who gave her a very direct gaze. With a small smile, he said, “It is good that you found each other.”
Harriet exchanged confused looks with Carlisle. Not knowing what else to do, she nodded slightly and walked out of the room.
* * * *
In the dark gloom of the wharves, Arthur stopped in front of a gin-shop. Beside him, Ewan glanced back over his shoulder. It wasn’t a place not to be aware of one’s surroundings, not in the slums of the lower side of London.
Arthur nodded to Ewan’s left in the dimly lit street. Then the two proceeded to walk down a creepy alley to the side of the shop. They paused only briefly at a steep flight of stairs before descending into dark shadows. The rickety steps led down to a door hanging only by a hinge.
Maneuvering around the littered hallway, they came to the end. The stench of smoke encompassed Arthur before he entered into the den of iniquity. Through the thick, heavy smoke, he searched for one in particular in the midst of all the bodies.
No one seemed particularly interested in either of them, although someone offered them a pipe. Shaking the man off, Arthur surveyed the room. Then he caught sight of a familiar face. Thin, emaciated, the man looked up at Arthur with dark, dead eyes, without a sign of recognition.
“Ewan, got him!” Arthur shouted.
Ewan threw Arthur an uneasy glance, but gave no hesitation on gripping the other side of the frail man. The man gave no resistance, but his feet dragged over the littered floor and up the stairs. He looked strangely at Arthur when the door to the waiting carriage opened.
“Get in, Burke,” Arthur commanded. “We need to talk and can’t do it here.”
Ewan pushed Burke ahead into the carriage. Arthur followed and slammed the door behind them.
“Found him in one of those wretched opium dens,” Arthur said, sounding grave. “I have heard whispers of these places but never did I imagine that they truly existed.”
“I’m afraid it is becoming more and more prevalent, my lord,” the doctor stated plainly. Then he lowered his eyes. “This abuse has become a thorn in my side. Although most don’t want to talk of the issue, it is affecting every class.”
“As with my wife, doctor?” Arthur asked. “Do not pacify me. I need to know the truth. It is important. I need to understand this addiction.”
Looking grim, the doctor glanced over at his unconscious patient. Since his arrival, Reginald Burke laid comatose, unable to be roused. He said in a reserved tone, “I am no expert, my lord. You
will recall I cautioned Lady Daneford about her need for the laudanum.”
Arthur well remembered supporting Doctor Bronwen in his request in cutting back on Sophia’s laudanum consumption. “It is what I want to understand. This addiction.”
Doctor Bronwen nodded. “Perhaps this young gentleman, my lord, was looking for something more than the escape alcohol provides. But once this drug bites, it doesn’t let go. The need becomes overwhelming.”
“From everyone who takes it? Could someone indulge in this drug and still function normally in society?”
Doctor Bronwen sighed. “I believe so. From my experience, it depends on the person. I hate to admit that I do have a client who I suspect has a secret habit. Yet, seemingly, functions normally.”
“Thank you for your honesty,” Arthur answered. He walked over to the side of the bed. Burke had no color to his body; only a sickly pale sheen coated his skin. The thin chest rose up and down, imperceptibly. “Now about Burke. Will he be able to talk when he wakes up?”
“He’s in rough shape, my lord. I’m not experienced enough with his condition to say one way or another whether he will survive,” Doctor Bronwen noted. “His body craves the drug. To live, he needs to stay away from it, but his conditions will worsen before it gets better. That alone may kill him. Though, he may have conscious moments before the cravings become too great.”
“I will hire a man to stay with him,” Arthur acknowledged. “I will send for you if his condition worsens.”
Doctor Bronwen bowed his head slightly, accepting the dismissal. He said nothing else.
Arthur took a seat by the sick man and waited.
Downstairs, the grandfather clock struck eleven. Burke’s eyes fluttered and then closed again. Arthur moved his chair closer. The sick man’s eyes fluttered once more. This time they opened. Bloodshot and confused, Burke looked at Arthur, unable to hide his misery.
“Lord Daneford?” Burke asked in a painful rasp. “Where am I?”
Seductive Lies Page 18
