Little White Lies

by Sara Ackerman

  “At least it’s the truth! You owe me that much!” she yelled into his face, her hands balled into trembling fists at her side. The urge to strike her father, to make him feel a small fraction of the pain she felt, was overpowering, so Amelia backed away from him, moving to the opposite side of the room. Clutching at the back of a chair for support, she asked the question that had been eating at her since her abduction. “So tell me, Father, now we’re being honest with each other, did you really intend for me to marry Jeremy?”

  His gaze slid away from hers, and he hesitated for a moment, but he nodded.

  “Why?” she cried, unable to credit that her father had forged an alliance between that unholy monster and her. “You knew how he treated me, knew what would have happened to me if we married. How could you agree to such a match?”

  “I had no choice, Amelia! To keep us alive one of you had to marry him. It was supposed to be Beatrice, but when she refused and ran off with Lord Easton instead, I had no other option. Evie was still in the schoolroom. Should I have condemned a child to such a fate? Did I choose wrong?”

  In spite of her anger she realized the truth of his statement. Thinking of Evie, her bright, vivacious sister, in the hands of such a man as Jeremy Michelson made her ill to her stomach. He would have crushed her spirit within a fortnight, eventually killing the brilliant spark that made Evie so unique. Her father was right. It had to be her.

  “Is that why you…you blamed me when he tried to…to rape me?”

  Tears streaked down his face, and he whispered, “I am so sorry, Amelia. I didn’t protect you from him. I have never been more ashamed than when I saw what he did to you. I was doing my best to keep you all safe, and had I said anything…” Her father’s voice trailed off, and he shuddered, a look of terror distorting his features. “It would have been much worse.”

  A hysterical laugh bubbled forth, and she pressed her hands over her mouth to suppress the sound. “I see,” she said. “To keep us safe you aligned yourself with traitors and thieves. You allowed a maniac to live with us and control your home and family. And finally, you sold your daughter to a madman to protect us from a situation of your own making.” Amelia pretended to ponder this information, tapping her chin in thought. “Yes, it makes perfect sense, Father. How silly of me not to see it.”

  She looked at him then, not as the man she had set upon a pedestal when she had been a young girl, but as a man who was fallible and made horrible mistakes to protect those he loved. Though she knew he loved her, Amelia was unable to reconcile his actions with his profession of love for her and her sisters.

  As she contemplated his beloved face, now suddenly lined and old with age and grief, she mourned the loss of the man she called father. “You are not the man I thought you were, Father,” Amelia quavered. “I..I don’t know if I ever knew who you really were, but I don’t like this man, whoever you are.” She turned away from him and walked to the door, ready to be done with this conversation and its painful revelations.

  Before her hand had reached the knob, he called out to her. “I knew it, Amelia, and was ashamed of who I was. That’s why I found Tavis for you. I knew he could protect you when I couldn’t. Tavis is the type of man you deserve—strong, honest, brave. He is the kind of man I wanted to be for you.”

  Amelia turned her head away from the door to look at her father. “But you were, Papa,” she whispered, all her suffering and heartbreak evident in those few words. “You were that kind of man to me, and whether you had ten pounds to your name or ten thousand, I still would have loved you.” She opened the door and stepped through.

  “And now?” came her father’s anguished question, stopping her in her tracks.

  Amelia paused and thought. She thought about the deceitful life he had built for his family, of all the pain he had caused and of the lives he had ruined. Then she knew what to tell him, the perfect revenge for her father, the liar. “Of course I love you, Father,” she replied, regarding him through tear-filled eyes. “I will always love you.”

  “Is that the truth, Amelia, or…are you lying?” he asked, the weight of broken dreams and fractured hopes etched into every line of his face.

  Closing her own stinging eyes to block the sight of her father, stooped and broken with age and despair, Amelia pushed back the bile that rose up so familiarly in her throat and said, “You’ll never know, now, will you?”

  With a soft click, Amelia closed the door and fled down the hallway, heartbroken and alone.

  Chapter 24

  “Come in!” Tavis commanded from behind his desk. He had several weeks’ worth of paperwork to catch up on after the whole incident of Amelia’s abduction. Several days beyond that he’d spent helping her to recover. Now he finally had some time to do much-needed paperwork. Whatever the interruption, he hoped it could wait.

  “Tavis,” his father-in-law said as he opened the door to his study. “I was hoping to have a word with you before I leave tomorrow.”

  “Of course, Westby. Take a seat.” Tavis gestured to an empty seat across from him. Since Westby seemed disinclined to talk immediately, Tavis took the opportunity to continue adding sums in his ledger book. He had finished adding one column when Westby finally broke his silence.

  “I’ve talked to Amelia.”

  Tavis became worried. He knew Westby had wanted to talk with Amelia alone, but Amelia had proved elusive. He also knew what Westby had to say would be devastating to his wife, so his anxiety for her welfare was more than justified. “Oh? How did she take it?”

  “Badly,” Westby declared. “I told her the truth, which is all I can give her now. I hope one day she will forgive me.”

  Tavis remained silent. He had his own opinion about Westby, though no matter how he felt, he knew Amelia must be feeling so much worse. Changing the subject, Tavis presented Westby with a formal document. “Here is your written confession. All you need to do is sign and you will be a free man.”

  Part of what angered Tavis so much about Westby was the deal he’d made with Wickes. In exchange for his full confession and testimony about Henry Michelson and his smuggling ring, Westby, who was dead according to Michelson and the rest of the world, would remain deceased and exiled forever to the Americas. Tavis disagreed with that decision, preferring to let the courts mete out justice accordingly, but Wickes overruled all of his objections, saying there was a better chance of catching Michelson if Westby lived, arguing that even in America Westby could still provide useful information.

  Taking the plume from Tavis, Westby signed his confession, which Tavis retrieved and tucked away in a desk drawer. Pulling out some other papers, he said, “Here are the documents you will need to board the ship to America, including your new identity and several hundred pounds. That should see you through until you can establish yourself as a man of business there.”

  Westby took the documents and put them into the pocket of his coat.

  “Will Lady Anne be joining you?” Tavis inquired. Before telling Amelia, Westby had been required to account to his wife for all the danger he had let loose on Amelia. Needless to say, she did not take his confession well.

  “I don’t know. She still hasn’t spoken to me since we talked two days ago. I told her I depart tomorrow and asked her to join me.” He shrugged. “I imagine I’ll be sailing alone.” Westby sank into his chair.

  Tavis waited.

  “There’s the matter of Amelia’s dowry still to discuss, and—oh!” Westby patted his jacket pocket. “And the papers I had on your father.” Pulling out a large envelope, he laid it on Tavis’s desk. “That’s everything I had.”

  Tavis grabbed the packet and stepped to the fire, into which he immediately threw the envelope Westby had given him. Breathing deeply, Tavis watched in relief as the flames licked away the last remnants of his father’s stupidity.

  “Before we left London, I had my solicitor draw up some papers detailing Amelia’s settlement.” Westby pulled out another envelope, which Tavis opened. �
��All of that is Amelia’s.”

  Face set in a grim line, Tavis pushed the papers back to Westby in distaste. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not take blood money.”

  “It’s not. My wife had a large settlement, and early in our marriage we agreed to set aside those funds to dower whatever children we had. You have my word this money is not tainted.” Westby pushed the papers back toward Tavis. “Please,” he begged, “allow me to give this to my daughter.”

  In spite of his reluctance, Tavis retrieved the papers and folded them into his drawer. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Lord Westby,” Tavis said, “there is much yet for me to do.”

  Westby remained seated, though, in spite of Tavis’s blatant request for the man to leave. “There is one other thing, Stanton,” Westby hedged, “that I would tell you before I leave. It’s about the curse.”

  ****

  Tavis didn’t know what to think about the news Westby gave him. He had disliked the man before he knew this, but now he loathed the man. For a father to do that to his own children was unconscionable. Then the man had the nerve to swear him to secrecy.

  “What good will it do for them to know this now?” Westby argued. “It will only hurt them more, and they have already been hurt enough by me.”

  Westby broke down at that point and started to cry, prompting Tavis to agree, if only to see the man quit his study and leave him in peace.

  He sat thinking for a good half an hour after Westby left, deciding whether to share what he’d learned with his wife. After his last and final mission for the War Office, he never wanted to keep a secret from her again. It was too difficult, yet he agreed with Westby’s logic. Telling Amelia would pain her, and she had been through enough. He didn’t want to see her hurt any further.

  Finally rising from his desk, he left to seek out Amelia. It didn’t take him long to find her, the garden behind the kitchen having become her favorite place to sit and think. There she sat on a small wooden bench, knees drawn up to her chest and red curls flying about her head in the breeze.

  He approached her with caution and called her name lest she startle. Turning her head, she smiled, a sad lonely smile, and opened her arms to him. Tavis needed no further invitation as he hurried over and scooped her up, settling her onto his lap as he sat. She nestled her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms about his neck. There they sat for several minutes, both content to be with one another after the scare of thinking they would never see each other ever again.

  “I had news from Wickes,” he said.

  “What did he say?”

  “Jeremy is dead, killed by his own father, and in the confusion of the fight, Wickes was injured, too.”

  “Will he recover?”

  “I should think so, but he’s angry at himself for letting Michelson get away. Apparently when Wickes went down, Michelson swam out to a ship and left the harbor.”

  What he didn’t tell Amelia was that there was another person in the harbor that night, a small woman with striking blonde hair and cool, blue eyes, who fought like a soldier. She followed Michelson and was presumably on the ship with him. Tavis had an idea of who the mystery woman was, but he remained quiet, not wishing to further upset Amelia with his suspicions; however, if he was correct, that would explain how Amelia’s sister claimed to know so much about him even though they had only met once.

  “Father spoke to me,” Amelia said. Tavis nodded and waited for her to continue. “I think he wanted my forgiveness, Tavis, but I just couldn’t give it.”

  “You know I’ve always hated my father, Amelia.” He rested his chin on the top of her silky curls. “I hated him for years for abandoning me when I was a babe. But that hate didn’t change anything. It didn’t make my father a different person or a better man. It didn’t give me the childhood I longed for. All it did was make me lonely, bitter, and closed off to love. The moment I forgave my father was the moment I realized how much I loved you. Until I let go of my anger and resentment, I wasn’t free to love you as you deserved.”

  “You think I should forgive him?” she asked in surprise. “You think I should forget about all the horrible things he did?”

  “No, love,” he said. “It’s up to you to decide whether you forgive him or not. I only wish to remind you that forgiving your father…well, that’s not for him.”

  She raised her head off his chest and studied him with confusion swimming in her green eyes. “I don’t understand.”

  “Forgiveness is for you, not the other person. It’s when you finally let go of all the hurt and anger that has burned within you, and you allow yourself to feel love. As long as you feel resentment toward your father, it owns you, body and soul. It’s a terrible curse to bear, and one you will never be free of as long as you hold on to negativity and hate.”

  Cupping his cheek with her hand, she searched his face for the truth of what he said. “How did you become so wise?” she asked.

  “You taught me, my love. Everything of importance I know is because of you.”

  Reaching up behind his neck, she pulled his lips down to hers in a tender kiss of love and renewal. “I love you so, Tavis,” Amelia breathed, wrapping her arms about him. “Don’t ever let me go.”

  He hugged her closer to his chest and pressed a swift kiss to her cheek. “Never, Amelia,” he promised fiercely. “I will never let you go.”

  Chapter 25

  “Wait!” Amelia shouted. “Father, wait!” Tavis and Westby turned to watch in astonishment as she hurried across the hallway and down the stairs to the waiting coach.

  “Amelia?” Westby asked in amazement. Stepping down from the coach, he looked at his daughter through misty eyes full of disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

  Amelia grabbed Tavis’s hands and lifted her chin. “I’ve come to say goodbye and to say you may write to me once you’ve reached America. I…I can’t promise I will ever write back, but you may write to me.”

  Westby lowered his head. “Thank you, Daughter. I will write to you every day. You may depend on it.” Bowing to Amelia and Tavis, Westby once again prepared to board the coach.

  Impulsively Amelia leaned forward and caught her father by the hand and squeezed it. “I wish you a safe journey, Father.” Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, but she smiled, a small tentative smile, at her stunned father.

  Westby smiled in return and nodded his head, tears already gathering in his eyes. Squeezing back, he whispered, “I wish you a good life, Amelia. Full of happiness and joy.” Then, turning away, he boarded the coach and with a tap to the driver was gone. Amelia stayed in the drive and watched until the coach disappeared from sight.

  “That was a good thing you did, Amelia,” Tavis said, coming up from behind to wrap his arm solidly about Amelia’s waist. “I know how hard it was for you to forgive him.”

  As if they were of one mind, the two turned and wandered down the path to the stables. “In spite of what he did, he is still my father, and I…I won’t ever see him again.” She shrugged and wiped at her eyes. “I couldn’t let him go without saying goodbye.”

  “And your mother?” Tavis asked. “I noticed she did not accompany your father to America.”

  “Someday maybe she’ll forgive him, but not now. She’s too angry at all the lies he told her over the years and at what nearly happened to me. Mother will return to London a widow and try to put the pieces of her life back together again. It’s what we will all have to do.”

  Amelia was saddened at the price of her father’s actions. Forbidden to return to England, he was dead to all of their acquaintances. Her mother was alone for the first time in over twenty years, starting a life for herself as a widow, taking sympathies from friends and family when in reality her husband was alive and living in exile in America. What a horrible mess he’d made, and all because he lied. To his family, to society, but worst of all to himself.

  She grabbed Tavis’s hand and held on, allowing his strength to bolster her own flagging spirits. He
squeezed back and said, “There’s something I need to tell you, something I have been keeping from you.”

  He looked suddenly nervous, and Amelia realized she didn’t even care anymore what his big secret was. She had figured out most of it during her abduction, but if Tavis needed to tell her, she was happy to listen.

  Clearing his throat, he told Amelia all of his secrets, secrets he’d been keeping since they met. Through it all, she listened without speaking, and when he was done, she spun to face him. Grabbing his arms, she demanded, “Promise me that, no matter what, there will always be honesty between us.”

  “Sometimes that is just not possible, Amelia,” Tavis hedged. “If your father had told your mother what he was involved in, do you honestly think her knowing would have changed anything?”

  She thought about that for a moment and realized he was right. Had her father told her mother anything about his illegal activities, he would have put his wife in danger. Amelia would not have met Tavis. She would most likely be married to Jeremy, abused or possibly dead.

  “It wouldn’t have been better,” she admitted stopping outside the stable doors, “yet I fail to see how telling a lie is better than answering honestly. I thought you valued my honesty.”

  “I do Amelia, more than anything.” He led her inside and down to Magnus’s stall. She rubbed his velvety black nose, and he bobbed his head, nickering his appreciation.

  “However,” he grunted, cinching Magnus’s saddle under the great beast’s belly, “there’s a difference between outright deceit and a little white lie to protect the ones we love.”

  “When would lying be necessary?”

  “What if you don a new frock and ask me whether it unfavorably accentuates certain features of your body?” He leered and grabbed her buttocks, leaving no doubt in her mind as to what he referred. “You honestly want me to answer yes?” His eyes sparkled in delighted mirth, and she swatted him on the arm.

  “I have superior taste, my lord, and would perish before purchasing an unflattering gown.” She wiggled out of his embrace. “And I have never asked you that, either!” She pinched him for good measure.