by Kellyn Roth
Alice nodded. “My mummy isn’t bad. Nettie says God is my heavenly Father and that’s all that matters, but I would like my father to be nice. I guess maybe that’s not possible.”
Kirk shrugged. “It wouldn’t be your fault.” He stepped into the next stall and began grooming the horse within. “I need to get him tacked up. Mr. Parker’s going for an afternoon ride, and it’s nearly time.”
“Oh!” Alice started. “I’d better get changed. I’m going with him.” She started to run off, but Kirk called her back.
“Don’t worry about what people say, all right?” He opened and closed his hands and shuffled his feet. “I-I don’t think it’s good to fuss. You’re a good person. You know, for a girl.”
Alice smiled. “Right. For a girl.”
“Don’t put pressure on the bit; you don’t want to ruin her mouth.”
Alice loosened her grip on the reins and patted Sugarplum’s neck. A slight shift forward was all she needed to set the pony in motion; she barely needed to move to guide her left and right. Still, it seemed foolish to trust the horse to obey such subtle commands.
“That’s it.” Mr. Parker smiled down at her. “Sugarplum is sensitive. You don’t have to yank her about.”
Alice sighed. Maybe being a great equestrian still sat beyond her reach after all. There seemed to be so much to learn.
The Pearlbelle Park grounds stretched out below them. Everything looked and smelled green and fresh. Alice took big gulps of the cool air.
Mr. Parker smiled. “Do you like it out here, Alice? At Pearlbelle?”
“I do.” Everything about the place appealed to her. Nettie said wealth often corrupted, but Alice didn’t think the grandeur of Pearlbelle Park was really wicked. The servants seemed to be fairly treated, and the tenants’ homes didn’t look like anything one might see in a Dickens novel.
“Pearlbelle has been my home for so long.” Mr. Parker’s dark eyes were distant. “Strange how inheritance works. The estate was never entailed, so Uncle John was able to simply give it to his more worthy nephew.” He glanced sideways at Alice. “And now Ned will receive all the benefits of the firstborn. Though, you’re not a boy, so I suppose it makes little difference.”
Alice blinked. “If I were a boy, what difference would it make?”
He cleared his throat. “Let’s head back to the stables.” A slight movement sent his horse trotting down the hill.
Hmm? Before Alice hadn’t been too curious, but now she wondered. What did Ned and she have in common? Unless …
“Mr. Parker.” Alice kept her voice as firm as possible. When he didn’t turn, she urged Sugarplum to follow him.
He slowed North Star to a walk at the bottom of the hill, and Alice drew up alongside him. Her chest was tight; her breath came in shallow pants. Questions swirled about her brain, and she struggled to articulate them.
“Mr. Parker.” She forced her hands to hold the reins gently. “Mr. Parker, is Mr. Knight my father? Is that why, if I were a boy, I should have … should have received the benefits of the firstborn?”
Mr. Parker leaned back in his saddle, and his horse slowed on cue. “Alice, you’re asking me more than I ought to tell you. I said too much.”
“But am I?” Her eyes blurred with tears, but she watched him steadily. “Is Mr. Knight my father?”
“Alice … to the best of my knowledge, yes.”
Sugarplum wasn’t exactly capable of a full gallop. Her fastest gait was a somewhat-hurried trot. But Alice made her keep to that pace all the way to the stables. She left the pony with a groomsman and ran all the way into the house.
Hasty searching and a few questions of bemused servants led her to her mother. She sat at a desk in the library, penning a letter. Alice watched for a minute, her stomach a well-kneaded lump of bread dough.
At last, her mother put down her pen and glanced over her shoulder. “Alice?” Mummy’s eyes flickered over her face, and she held out her hands. “Come here. What’s wrong?”
Alice dashed across the room and into her arms. “Mummy, I … Mr. Parker said … Mummy, I’m so scared … I don’t know … if he … was telling … the truth.” And if it was the truth, what did that mean?
Papas shouldn’t be married to anyone but one’s mummy. Alice was sure of that. And furthermore, one’s brothers shouldn’t have their own mummy. How could this have happened? Why weren’t they all a family? It was impossible to have more than one family.
Yet, Alice’s Papa seemed to have two. And he had abandoned the first one.
“Shush, shush …” Mummy rubbed slow circles on Alice’s back. “It’s all right. You’re all right. Shush, darling. Breathe, then tell me all about it.” Her voice was soft and soothing, and Alice wanted to make believe that everything was all right.
But it didn’t feel all right, and the truth had done nothing but make her nauseous. It was an ugly truth, not the imaginary one of a Prince Charming on his white steed coming to rescue them.
This Prince Charming had another princess. This Prince Charming had another life. In fact, Alice wasn’t sure he was a prince at all. A prince didn’t abandon his princess.
“Mummy, Mr. Parker said that Mr. Knight is my father. But how can that be? Mummy, Mr. Knight already has a princess and a baby, and … and we can’t have him, too, can we?”
Mummy went stiff. “When did he say that to you?”
“J-just now.” Alice drew back and searched her mother’s face. “It’s not true … is it?”
Mummy’s eyes met hers. They were glazed, like the ripples in glass visible only when sunlight hit them at an angle. “Alice, let’s go to your room with Ivy and Nettie. We need to talk.” She rose and walked toward the door.
Alice didn’t want to talk. She wanted comfort. But Mummy’s quick, jerky motions—so confident—did offer a bit of reassurance, and she ran after her.
In the nursery, Mummy took a seat on a chair by the fireplace and drew Ivy onto her lap. The room’s cheerful atmosphere seemed dim now. Alice snuggled against Nettie’s side and was drawn down on her lap like a child. But for once, she didn’t mind.
“I’ve decided it’s time to tell Alice and Ivy about their father.”
Every muscle in Nettie’s body tensed. Alice reached up and twisted her fingers through the maid’s brown hair, mussing it from its perfect bun. The childish gesture brought a small amount of comfort to Alice, and Nettie slowly allowed herself to relax.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m very sure. Mr. Parker decided to tell Alice the truth—”
Again Nettie stiffened. “What truth?”
Mummy’s eyes were hard. “The only truth there is. That Mr. Knight is her father.”
Nettie didn’t reply.
“Ivy, do you understand, darling?”
Ivy blinked. “I don’t need a father. I have you and Nettie and Jameson and Mrs. Bennett. And Uncle Charlie, too, sometimes.”
Mummy sighed. “Nevertheless, you have a father, and it’s best for you to know who he is. After this, we’ll have to leave Pearlbelle—”
Alice gasped. “But, Mummy!”
“Alice.” Her firm voice allowed for no arguments. “We will have to leave Pearlbelle. I doubt we’ll see Mr. Knight again, or anyone here. It simply must be that way now that you know. I don’t know what we’re going to do yet; however, leaving Pearlbelle is the only natural step.”
Alice swallowed. How horrible. Why did knowing who her father was come at such an expense? It wasn’t fair. Especially since it’s Mr. Knight.
“I-I don’t want to leave.” She stood and glared at her mother. “I shouldn’t have to. We were supposed to be here a month. I have friends here, and a pony, and I can be outside. Why do we have to leave?”
Mummy sighed. “Alice, don’t make this difficult. You were all questions for so long, and now that I’m willing to answer some of them, you’re distracted. Listen. Your father is Mr. Knight. He owns Pearlbelle Park. He is married. Now that you know, there�
�s too much at risk. We couldn’t possibly stay.”
But how could they leave? Alice needed to talk to Mr. Knight. Maybe she’d be able to convince him to mend his evil ways. But how could he? Mrs. Knight needed him, too, and little Ned.
Pearlbelle Park needed him, for that matter.
But now we need him, too. Or we always did, and I just didn’t know it.
The unfairness leeched into Alice’s heart, and she lowered herself back on Nettie’s lap. “I don’t like this at all.” Unbidden, tears welled, and she let them fall on Nettie’s shoulder. “I don’t like this. I want … I want to go home.”
Good-bye to Pearlbelle Park. Good-bye to Mr. Knight and his villainy. Good-bye to Sugarplum and Kirk and Mr. Parker.
“Shh, Gracie.” Nettie kissed her cheek. “It’s going to be all right. Your mummy and I will take care of you. And perhaps Uncle Charlie will have to help some if gossip gets out, but maybe it won’t. God still loves us, remember?”
Alice shook her head. She didn’t know anything now.
“Perhaps we can talk about it later.” Alice heard rather than saw Mummy set Ivy aside and rise. “For now, I’ll begin packing. Nettie, you’re welcome to … to sit for a time.”
Nettie nodded, her head close to Alice’s. “I will. Ivy, come sit with me. We’ll have a story—”
“I don’t want a story.” Alice sobbed.
“Shush, now. No need to talk back.” Nettie stroked her hair. “You’ll be all right, Miss Grace. God has us in His hands.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Mr. Knight, if I might have a word …?”
He turned and blinked at her like a man just woken from a long sleep. “Miss Chattoway? I … I suppose so.” There was guilt in his eyes. She didn’t know how it wasn’t visible to everyone who looked at him, much less his wife, who she believed knew nothing of her husband’s past.
“Would your study do?” She gestured to the room he’d hurried toward right after lunch. Perhaps, between Alice’s tearful face and Mr. Parker’s nervousness, he’d guessed what she wished to talk with him about.
It was all out now, more or less. Admitting it to her child made Claire feel exposed, and now, for the first time, she must discuss it with him.
With Phil. He was supposed to be her Phil, but he belonged to someone else. She swallowed down the bile in her throat and followed him into his office.
“Will you take a seat?” He gestured to the chair across from his at the desk. “How may I help you?”
She lowered herself onto the chair and placed her hands palm down on the arms. A grand chair, a grand study, a grand house. Mine. This is all supposed to be mine.
But it wasn’t. It wouldn’t be. It couldn’t be.
“I’ve told my children the truth. About you. You’re … you’re their father.” She forced the words out through the lump in her throat, despite the dryness of her mouth. “Steven told Alice enough that I had to confirm it. We’ll be leaving within the hour. But I thought you should know that they know the … the truth.”
Most of the truth. No child could ever fully comprehend the details. Claire didn’t understand exactly what had happened, either. Something terrible to change her lover into the man who sat before her.
Weak. Unwilling to admit his own guilt.
His face twisted as if in pain—pain he deserved but which she seemed to have suffered the lion’s share of.
He’s my husband
It’s been annulled. He’s wed to another.
I love him.
You mustn’t. It’s wrong.
Why hasn’t he suffered as I have?
Because he’s a man. They don’t have to suffer if they don’t want to.
Frustrated with her own thoughts, she clasped her hands in her lap. Another moment. She’d give the wretch another moment to explain himself. Then she’d be gone.
But I need to see him again.
You hate him.
I can’t.
You must.
It wasn’t fair, but it was true.
His eyes remained glued to a distant point above her head as he answered. “I see.”
Claire swallowed. That was it? After nearly a decade of waiting, after her patience, after her heartbreak, after her steady belief in his fidelity in the face of undeniable doubts?
“I was faithful.” She whispered the words, afraid to utter them but not daring to remain silent. “I waited. I thought you’d come. All these years, I thought you’d come.” She stood, and her voice raised to a fever pitch. “How dare you? How dare you abandon me after all your promises, after standing before God and man and marrying me?” She pounded her fist on the desk. “How dare you!”
Philip was on his feet then, but he leaned back, as if a bit afraid of her. “Keep your voice down,” he hissed. “Do you want the servants—”
“I don’t care if they hear! They should know what you are. You didn’t come. I can’t blame you for the annulment, as I know that was all my father’s doing. But I can blame you for abandoning me for nine years with no word before returning with an American bride on your arm. How dare you show your face in England after what you’ve done.”
He cleared his throat, played with his cravat. “Claire—”
“Don’t address me so familiarly.”
“Miss Chattoway, I apologize if my behavior to you seems—”
“Seems.”
“If it is reprehensible, I am sorry.” He placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “I did wait six years, but after that, it seemed expedient to marry. I know I have duties to this land, and I couldn’t stay away. I can’t imagine what you mean by ‘abandoning’ you as you were the one who called things off, but—”
“Me, call things off?” She stared at him, mouth partially open, then snapped it shut. “I never said or did anything …”
“The letters.” He folded his hands across his chest and glowered at her, like she were the villain. “The letters. I presume you sent them before you knew about the children, but nonetheless, you did send them—”
“You received letters.” She fell back onto the chair. “What do you think I said to you?”
“Well, not you, directly. Your mother, of course, but by your command. You must remember, surely. You didn’t want to see me again; you thought it would be best if we forgot about the whole unfortunate incident.” He took his seat. “If I had known about the children, I would have come, of course. I suppose you had difficulty contacting me once you knew you were with child—but you must see I had to get away. I didn’t think I had a chance in society after …”
Claire dropped her eyes to her lap and tried to breathe. Her thoughts swirled helplessly about her brain, harried birds seeking a perch and finding none. “I never wrote you such a letter or asked anyone else to.” Her own voice sounded thick as pudding. “I never would have. I was in love with you and remained so for much of your absence. And I wanted you to return to me until I learned you had remarried.”
Philip didn’t reply. The silence in the room stretched on interminably, and at last, she rose.
“I’m returning to London. I’m not sure what my next action will be, but you can rest assured I will be provided for. My brother already offers me some support, and I have friends. I think it’s best if we cut ties.”
“I trusted your mother.” He sounded so defeated, and she couldn’t look at him. “I thought you said she was a good woman.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, but nothing was going to make this easier. “Yes, she is. A good woman completely under the control of my father.”
“I see.” She heard him stand. “I think, finally, I do see. Is there anything I can do? My hands are tied, but if there is anything—”
“There is nothing. Not at present.” Claire wouldn’t close the door. She’d leave a crack in case of emergency. But, for the most part, she needed separation and time to think.
Yes, he should have come to her anyway. Any sane man could see through her pare
nts’ lies. But he’d taken the easy way out. That was like him.
But, if he was sincere, it made a difference.
She turned to leave, then paused. “Will you tell your wife? She seems a sweet woman and undeserving of the lies.”
“I only want to spare her the painful truth.” He shuffled behind her, probably ill at ease with the idea of confessing all to the current Mrs. Knight. “It’s not easy.”
“Nothing’s easy. Please—promise me you’ll be honest.”
Another silence. “I will.”
“Thank you.” She quit the room and rushed up the stairs to finish packing.
London
Nettie’s gray eyes met hers evenly. “You’re sure that’s what he said?”
“I’m sure! If only I’d known. I’d have … have done something. Found a way to contact him sooner.” Yet, Claire knew such a thing would have been impossible. For nine months, she’d been a prisoner in her father’s house, barely allowed to leave her room. Contacting the man who had been her husband for one short week was impossible. Both Nettie and she, as well as any servants who might have aided them, had been helpless.
“Mm.” Nettie shifted from her seat next to the fire. “Well, at any rate, it’s over. The girls know. We’re finding a way to get on with our lives. God willing, your business is secure. All that matters now is doing our best with the situation we’ve been given.”
Claire sighed and leaned back against her pillow. She stared at the ceiling above her. There was a crack running diagonally that she’d never wanted to get fixed, and it wasn’t in the budget now. “The poor girls. They’ll never know a father.”
“Jameson is a father figure in their life anyway.”
“It’s not the same.” Claire bit the inside of her left cheek. “Alice doesn’t care for him, I don’t think. Well, she likes him, but she’s mistrustful since he stole you away.”
