Amanda Scott (33 page)

“I can understand that you feel flattered, but—”

“It is
not
flattery or … or toad-eating, or any other such despicable thing. She is kindhearted and considerate, and I feel more respected and valued in her house than in my own! And it
is
her house, whatever anyone else says to the contrary, for she has lived there nearly five years now and was told she would be well looked after and would live out her days there.”

“There is nothing that can be done about that, I’m afraid, and say what you will, it has nothing to do with you. You cannot know what the exact arrangement was—”

“But I
do
know!
She
does not keep secrets from me but talks openly about herself, and I know just what sort of arrangement she had with Jake Thornton. I think he treated her damnably in not providing for her when he had paid all her debts these past six years and more, not to mention giving her the house to live in and leading her to think it was hers forever. Damnable is what I call it now, and what I shall always call it,” he repeated, his voice trembling with rage now. “If I had control of my fortune, by God, I would mend matters, that I can tell you, and that is precisely what I mean to tell her when—”

“You are not to visit her again, Andrew.”

“Don’t say that! You can’t stop me. She is the first real friend I have ever had, and I don’t mean to abandon her just because everyone else does. You think that just because you came here and took over my estates you can order everything I do or say, but you can’t! My father would never have objected to my knowing her. He had his own bits of fancy, after all, and—”

“That will do,” Michael snapped, straightening to his full height. “By God, you young whelp, it is more than time that you learned both civility and obedience to your elders, and I mean to teach you those lessons before we are, either of us, much older.”

Anne leapt to her feet again, hardly knowing whether she meant to try to intervene between them or to flee.

Andrew, tears streaming down his face, shouted back, “Do as you like then, but I’ll be damned before I benefit from any teaching of yours!”

Seeing Michael stride purposefully toward him, Anne fled, but the echo of their angry voices still rang in her ears long after she had slammed the library door behind her and run up the stairs. By the time she reached her dressing room, her head was pounding, and all she could think about was finding the hartshorn Maisie kept on her dressing table. Acting as peacemaker between the various members of her own family was, she decided, mere child’s play compared to attempting the same thing between the arrogant young duke and his autocratic uncle. At the moment, she felt that the latter role lay far beyond her capability.

Pouring a cup of water from the ewer on the washstand and stirring into it a dose of the excellent restorative, she drew a steadying breath, released it, and lifted the cup to her lips.

“Don’t drink that, Aunt Anne. You will go to sleep and never wake up again.”

Startled out of her wits by the clear, unfamiliar, childlike voice right behind her, Anne dropped the cup, whirled, and stared in stupefaction at Sylvia, who stood not a yard away in her long white nightgown and bare feet, gazing wide-eyed at her.

“Sylvia!” Anne fought to control emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, and said in a calmer tone, “Sylvia, darling, how you startled me! Oh, and look at the mess I made when I dropped my cup. How Maisie will scold!”

“I’m g-glad you dropped it,” the child said. “I d-don’t want you to die, too.”

“Darling, I am not going to die for many, many years yet, I assure you.”

“You will if you drink that,” Sylvia said.

“What a pretty voice you have. Why have you kept silent for so long, darling?”

“I-I d-don’t know,” the child said, looking bewildered. “I can t-talk now, but when I tried before, nothing came out, so I stopped trying, because t-trying only made my head ache.”

Anne had found a cloth and was doing her best to mop up the spilled water. Her own head still ached, and she longed for the dose of hartshorn, but she feared to upset the little girl if she mixed another, or for that matter, if she allowed the tears of joy in her eyes to spill down her cheeks. Choosing her words with care, and continuing matter-of-factly with her mopping, she said, “What made you think I might die, Sylvia?”

“Because M-Mama did,” the child replied. “She put something in her cup, and then she drank it, and then she sank to the floor and c-closed her eyes, as if she were asleep. But when I tried to wake her up, I c-couldn’t.”

“You saw your mama fall?” Anne could not keep the horror from her voice.

Sylvia nodded. Tears welled in her eyes, but she continued to regard Anne solemnly. “And … and when I t-tried to scream for someone to c-come help her, I could not make any sound.”

“But your papa,” Anne said. “I was told he was the one who found her. Didn’t you tell him what you saw?”

“No, for when Papa came in, he banged the door back and shouted her name like he d-did sometimes when he was very angry, and I… I hid before he saw me there. And later, when he began shouting at everyone, saying he wanted them to tell him how she could do such a thing to him, I still couldn’t speak to tell him I saw how she did it. I thought then that my voice must have died when Mama did, so I could never speak out of turn either.”

“Speak out of turn?”

“Like Mama did.”

Putting the wet cloth aside, Anne said, “I don’t understand, Sylvia. How did your mama speak out of turn?”

The little girl looked at the floor, and for a moment, Anne feared that she would not speak again, but when Sylvia looked up with tears streaming down her face, she hugged herself, gave a great sob, and cried, “I … I d-don’t know!”

Swiftly Anne gathered the child into her arms. “There, there, darling,” she said. “Everything will be all right. I am so glad you can talk again, I just want to hug you and make you feel safe. I know you must miss your mama quite dreadfully, and I cannot take her place, but I hope you know you can trust me to look after you. If you don’t know how your mama spoke out of turn, can you at least tell me why you think she did so?”

“Sh-she said she did,” Sylvia replied on another sob.

“She talked to you before she … before she drank from the cup?”

Sylvia shook her head.

“Don’t stop talking again, I pray you,” Anne said urgently. “If she did not speak to you—My dear, you are bewildering me beyond all bearing. Can you not explain the matter plainly?”

“She … she wrote a letter.”

Anne gasped. “A letter! Good gracious, I was told she had left no message. What can you know of a letter?”

“I found it.” The words this time were barely a whisper.

Struggling with her emotions, knowing that to exclaim again, particularly if she were to make Sylvia feel that she had done something wrong, might well cause the little girl to lapse back into her long silence, Anne said quietly, “Can you show me?”

Sylvia went very still, and the next moment passed so slowly that Anne had plenty of time to fear that she would not speak, but at last she said, “It is in my bedroom.”

“Shall I go with you to fetch it?”

Another silence fell, but the little girl’s expression was thoughtful this time, not frightened, and after a moment, she said, “If I go alone, Moffat will make me go back to bed.”

“I won’t even let her scold you,” Anne said firmly.

Sylvia looked at her, her watery gaze searching Anne’s face. When she put her hand in Anne’s and squeezed her fingers, Anne sighed with heartfelt relief.

They encountered a worried Nurse Moffat bustling toward them in the corridor near the nursery.

“Oh, my lady, there she is! You naughty girl, Sylvia. Why, here I’ve thought you were all tucked up and safe asleep, and I go in to put out your night light and find your empty bed. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, and that’s a fact.”

Sylvia’s hand tightened in Anne’s. She did not speak.

Anne said calmly, “I will attend to her ladyship, Moffat. You may safely leave her in my hands for tonight.”

“Well, as to that, ma’am, I hardly like to do so when she has been so naughty, but then I don’t seem to have the knack of getting her to change her ways, do I?” Giving Anne no chance to reply, she went right on, “Like as not she ought to be punished for slipping out again, as she has, but one scarcely likes to be harsh with the little mite. I make no doubt there are some who think this new governess of hers, coming to take her in hand—which I’m told will be any day now—will be much more stern than what her old nurse has been, but I don’t mind telling you, ma’am, I hope she ain’t too harsh, for the child’s that sensitive, you know, like one of them flowers that closes right up when a body touches it. I’d not like to see her made unhappy.”

“I think we can prevent that, Moffat,” Anne said, giving Sylvia’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I am well aware that no one else has served her as faithfully as you have, and if you are afraid that the new governess will replace you, you need not be. She will attend to Sylvia’s lessons, but you will still have much influence, I promise you. As for tonight, you can safely leave her in my care.”

“Well do I know that, your ladyship,” the nurse said with a look of gratification at Anne’s words. “My little fairy waif’s perked up no end since she returned to us, and I don’t think for a moment it was her time with Lady Harlow—kind though I know she was to her—that made for the change. I never saw her follow anyone else like a shadow the way she does you, not even her own mama, though the late duchess fair doted on her.”

The little hand in her own trembled, and Anne said firmly, “We should not be talking like this just now, Moffat. I will take Lady Sylvia to her bedchamber. You may have the rest of the night to yourself, if you like.”

With a sound of annoyance, Moffat said, “How right you are to reprove me, ma’am. ’Tis amazing how one begins to think that because she cannot speak, she does not hear. Not that I gave away any secrets, of course, but I do know I oughtn’t to have spoke so in the child’s presence.” She looked lovingly at Sylvia, adding, “Now do go along with Lady Michael, my love, and let her tuck you up snug into your bed, and old Moffat will see you again first thing in the morning. She’s already said her prayers, your ladyship, but—Good gracious, child, where are your slippers?”

Anne dealt with this minor setback speedily and soon sent the nurse on her way. When she looked at Sylvia again, and saw a fleeting smile at the child’s lips, she said thoughtfully, “You know, darling, you had better mend your ways once everyone else realizes you can speak again. I’ve a fair notion you’ve been able to get away with quite a lot of misbehavior these past months, and they will not all be so gentle with you in future.”

She almost wished she had not spoken, for the haunted, sad look reappeared on the child’s face, and when Anne urged her toward the night nursery, she went obediently but with gathering reluctance. Inside the cozy room, Anne saw that the fire had burned down to glowing embers behind the stout nursery guard, but the coals cast a glow over the room, revealing the tumbled little cot and the washstand near the window with its ewer and basin. A low side table held a glass-enclosed candlestick, serving as a night lamp, with extra candles in a narrow dish beside it. The candle in the lamp had burned low, so Anne removed it and, opening the fireguard, lit a new one from an ember. Fitting it into the lamp and replacing the glass, she looked over her shoulder to see Sylvia, hands behind her, watching her solemnly.

“Where is the letter, darling?”

The child brought one hand from behind her back and held out a folded piece of notepaper. “I fetched it while you f-fixed the candle,” she said, biting her lip. “It was in my secret place.”

Anne took the paper, and as she unfolded it with shaking hands, she said, “You need not tell me where that is, of course. Everyone is entitled to a few secrets.”

Sylvia looked relieved, but as Anne smoothed the single sheet on the side table near the candle, said abruptly, “I don’t mind. There’s a space behind the baseboard where it just fit.”

“Why on earth did you keep it, darling? You ought to have given it to your papa or to your great-uncle Ashby.”

“I was afraid to tell them I was there,” Sylvia said simply.

Without further ado, Anne read the letter:

Your Grace,

I daresay you will not forgive me for what I am about to do, since it will undoubtedly bring scandal to the St. Ledgers name, and so I do not ask that of you. I will pray to God instead, though I do not expect Him to forgive my wickedness either. Perhaps he will understand, however, that I simply cannot submit to your barbaric decree, and know of no other way to avoid the dreadful fate you have ordained for me.

No doubt there are those who will declare that I ought to have spoken up—to Lord Ashby, perhaps—but you yourself said that even my own family would not believe me, and I am sure you are right. Who would ever accept that the Duke of Upminster is so villainous that he would send his duchess to a brothel to train her to be a better wife? To threaten to hand me over to your so much admired Lord M to punish me for speaking out of turn, as you call it, was an iniquitous thing to do, Edmund, but I cannot doubt, knowing what I now know of you—and have just learned about him from Molly—that you will do it. Rather than submit to such treatment, I have taken the decision to end my life.

My greatest concern on this evil day is for my innocent children. I pray that the Almighty will do all in His power to protect them from your villainy, now and forevermore.

Goodbye, from your wretched

Agnes

“W
HAT IS A BROTHEL?”

Stunned by what she had just read, and still trying to comprehend its full meaning, Anne did not at once realize what Sylvia had said. But when the echo of her question pierced the numbness in Anne’s brain, she gave herself a mental shake and said, “A brothel, darling? Why, it’s …” Not wanting to snub the child at such a time, she searched her mind for something at least marginally acceptable to say. “It is a house for abandoned females, I’m afraid, and not any place of which you need have more knowledge, or one that you should discuss with anyone else. I know you must have read this letter and been very much shocked by it, just as I am; but, indeed, I cannot think that your papa would ever have sent your mama to such a place, for she could in no way have ever been mistaken for an abandoned female.”