One Night in London (24 page)

She inhaled deeply, seeing his meaning. “A performance.”

“Precisely. Nothing more, nothing less.” He took her hand in his and held it as they left the heart of London, as the busy streets and tall buildings gave way to narrower roads and scattered houses. Bethnal Green was a quieter town, hardly a town at all to Francesca’s eyes. It seemed an eternity, but finally the carriage stopped before a small cottage, set back from the road in a large garden. The whole coach swayed as the footmen jumped down, and Francesca straightened her spine, mentally preparing her script.

Edward glanced at her as his servant opened the door. “Are you ready?”

“One thing,” she said. “Will you keep Percival out of the way, if he’s there? I believe he encourages the worst in Ellen’s behavior toward me, and I confess I despise him as much as he does me.”

“Of course.”

She grasped his hand as joy and nerves made her heart thud. He helped her down, and together they went through the gate into the garden. Belatedly, Francesca realized there were more footmen than usual in the Durham livery; two had jumped down from the back of the carriage and another had climbed down from the box. The driver had tied his reins and was watching everything with unusual alertness, and she just caught the gleam of a pistol barrel on the seat beside him. She glanced up at Edward, whose face had settled into austere, almost autocratic lines, the hauteur of a man who would not,
could
not be denied. It was like advancing on the enemy with a small army at her back.

There was no way Ellen could thwart her now.

A small black dog came running to meet them and ran circles around them, yipping loudly. Before they reached the front door a woman opened it.

In the split second before recognition dawned on her face, Ellen Haywood appeared almost friendly. She looked rather well, to Francesca’s mild surprise, no longer thin and worn but with some color in her face and her blond hair neatly coiffed. But the minute she met Francesca’s eyes, that color faded from her face and she moved to slam the door.

“Mrs. Haywood.” Edward had gotten his hand on the door before she could close it, and now pressed it inexorably open. “A moment of your time, please.”

“How do you do, Ellen?” asked Francesca. Now that she was face-to-face with her nemesis, her nerves vanished, fading into icy calm. This was the moment she had been waiting for, and with Edward—and his tall, muscular footmen—close at hand, she felt rather invincible. “May I introduce my friend? Lord Edward de Lacey, this is Mrs. Ellen Haywood.” Dismay filled Ellen’s face as Edward bowed his head. “May we come in?”

Ellen stared at her, panic in her eyes. “How did you find me?”

Francesca lifted her eyebrows. “Were you hiding?”

The other woman’s blush was confession enough. Edward had kept her from closing the door, and now she reluctantly stepped back. “Come in, then,” she said bitterly. “I suppose I have no choice.”

No one replied to that. Francesca caught the subtle signal Edward made to his servants, who silently slipped off through the garden. One remained by the door. Ellen noticed them as well, from the way her eyes darted from the footmen to Francesca and Edward. Visibly tense, she gestured toward the parlor, a neat but somewhat shabby room.

“Why are you here?” Ellen blurted out as soon as Francesca seated herself.

“I would like to see my niece,” Francesca replied tranquilly. “Is that too much to ask?”

Her calm demeanor seemed to unnerve Ellen even more. Her wide eyes flew to the door and back, as if she expected someone else at any moment. Francesca prayed it was Georgina, and only kept her seat with great effort.

“Georgie’s not here,” Ellen finally said. “She’s out.”

“I will wait.” Francesca drew off her gloves and settled in her seat more comfortably. “In fact, I’m glad she’s not here. I wished to discuss something with you privately.”

Ellen’s face burned. Her skin was already somewhat browned, as if she spent her days outdoors. “No.”

Francesca paused. “No?”

“No, you won’t take her.” Ellen raised her chin, her eyes flashing despite the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

For a moment Francesca regarded her. Ellen was clearly braced for another screaming row, not for her to be calm and reasonable. Francesca knew she had only herself to blame, for losing her temper before, but now she had the benefit of hindsight and resolve, to say nothing of Edward’s practical advice. “How difficult this year must have been for you,” she said sympathetically. “How are your sons?”

Confusion flashed across the other woman’s expression. “Very well.”

Francesca nodded. She could almost feel Edward’s approval, bolstering her restraint, encouraging her onward. “They must be quite a pair now, if they have John’s looks and temper.”

“They do,” said Ellen slowly. “Both are the image of their father.” Maternal pride was showing through her suspicion.

She smiled a little. “Then they’re fortunate boys. John was always one of the most amiable men I knew. And they must have grown so much! They were just creeping around the floor when last I saw them.”

Ellen fidgeted with the edge of her apron. Her wary eyes darted to Edward again. “They’re walking now.”

“Children grow so quickly,” Francesca said. “I was amazed by how rapidly Georgina changed from week to week, even as an infant.” She paused as a real swell of emotion constricted her throat. “No doubt I shall hardly recognize her now.”

The color fled from Ellen’s face. “You won’t take her,” she said again, her voice rising. “I won’t allow it! How can you even ask such a thing?”

Francesca’s fingers were numb from clenching so hard as she clung to her calm with every bit of strength she possessed. “It was her father’s wish that I raise her, in the event of his death,” she reminded Ellen. “My sister would want her only child to grow up with family. I have loved Georgina since the day she was born as if she were my own daughter, the child I was never blessed with in my own marriage.”

“I don’t care,” said Ellen, her voice shaking. “I’m sorry you never had a child, but you can’t take mine.”

“She’s not your child, though, is she?” said Francesca before she could stop herself. Edward, who had been silent so far, stirred beside her. She bit her tongue and forced her temper aside as she gentled her tone again. “But you have two sons, young boys who need you very much. Someday you’ll want to send them to school, or to learn a trade. I want to help you provide for them.”

“No, you don’t,” Ellen cried. “You just want to take Georgie!”

“I do want to take her, to raise her as her father, your husband, wanted her to be raised. My first thought was to hire a solicitor, to petition the court on my behalf.” Ellen looked horror-struck. “I believe I would prevail,” Francesca went on, evenly but firmly. “I’m well able to take care of a child. Her mother was my sister, and her father agreed I should take her, as Georgina’s nearest blood relation and godmother. And I love her every bit as deeply as a mother could. But solicitors don’t work for free, and such a course would be hard on your family as well as on me. It occurred to me there might be a more beneficial way to solve our differences.”

Ellen shook her head. Tears winked in her eyes.

“I was prepared to spend a great deal of money on a solicitor and court costs. But that would only benefit the solicitor. A widowed mother with two infant sons would have a far greater need for the money,” Francesca said softly. “I know Georgina’s inheritance provides an annual maintenance for her care, which you would lose if she left your household. I understand your position, truly. And I’m proposing we both benefit: I will raise Georgina, and in return I will give you the two thousand pounds I would have spent filing petitions in the Court of Orphans.”

She had considered the amount carefully. Georgina’s allowance was one hundred pounds per annum, which meant one thousand pounds over the next decade she might be expected to live with Ellen. Francesca didn’t think it would be persuasive enough to offer merely to replace that amount; there was no clear benefit to Ellen in that. But Ellen had two young sons. The income from two thousand pounds, invested wisely, would replace that hundred pounds a year indefinitely and still leave the principal intact for schooling or an inheritance for the boys. It was a great deal of money, enough that Francesca knew she would feel the pinch of losing it, and she was all but holding her breath as she waited for Ellen’s response.

The woman was clearly torn. She bit her lip until it turned white, and twice dashed tears from her cheek. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, there was a commotion outside. The little dog was barking again, and Francesca heard voices—including Georgina’s high, young voice. She was on her feet in an instant, turning toward the door.

“Percy!” screamed Ellen. “Percy, no! Take the children and go!”

Edward was already out the door. More voices, male this time, sounded in the corridor over the barking, and then Francesca heard what she had dreamed of every night. “Aunt Franny?” cried Georgina. “She’s here?”

“Yes, dearest,” she called, as evenly as she could manage. There was a patter of footsteps, and finally Georgina herself appeared in the doorway, taller and thinner than before, but clean and healthy-looking, her face bright with delight.

“Aunt Franny!” She rushed across the room and threw her arms around Francesca, who held her close, too overwhelmed to speak. Her heart seemed about to burst, and her eyes were wet. At
last . . .

“I missed you so,” Georgina said, looking up at her with shining dark eyes. “Why didn’t you come see me before?”

Behind them, Ellen began sobbing. Francesca tried not to listen, because then she would think about the lies Ellen must have told Georgina to explain why she hadn’t come to visit in so long, and she didn’t think she could maintain any semblance of poise if she allowed that. “I missed you very much, too,” she told her niece. “I wish I had been able to visit sooner.”

Georgina hesitated, then gave a very philosophical nod. “I understand. Mama told me adults have great responsibility and cannot spend as much time as they’d like visiting.”

Francesca drew in a deep breath to stave off the fury at Georgina’s calling Ellen “Mama.” Or at Ellen telling Georgina that she was too busy to visit, when it was Ellen’s own actions that had prevented her from coming. “I’m never too occupied to see you,” she said instead. “And my heavens, how you’ve grown! You look more and more like your mother.”

Georgina smiled widely. “Do I? I remember Papa saying she was very beautiful.”

“She was, darling,” Francesca replied softly. “Just like you.”

“Ellen.” Percival stood in the doorway, looking defeated. He shot a black look at Francesca before turning back to his sister. “Ellen, come here a moment.”

She seemed afraid to leave the room. Her eyes darted from Francesca and Georgina back to her brother. “Now, Percy?” she whimpered.

He nodded. “Yes, now. You have to let Georgie talk to . . .” He paused, his face puckering up as if tasting something bitter. “Let Georgie talk to her aunt.”

Georgina sensed the tension. “Why?” she asked in alarm. “Why should I talk to Aunt Franny, Uncle Percy?” When Percival said nothing, she looked to Ellen. “Why, Mama?”

Ellen Haywood put her hands behind her back. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t, Georgie,” she said, her voice cracking. “Since you haven’t seen her in a while.”

But Georgina was worried now. “Aunt Franny?” she appealed. “Can Mama stay?”

“No, no,” Ellen said at once. “I’ll just . . . I’ll just be outside with Billy and Jack.” She hurried across the room, and Percival put his arm around her as she slipped through the door. Francesca just saw Ellen cover her face with both hands before Edward stepped forward to reach for the door. He paused long enough to give her a long look, his expression somber and serious. The door closed with a click, and they were alone.

“What is wrong, Aunt Franny?” Georgina’s thin face was lined with fear. “Why did everyone leave?”

“So we can have a bit of a visit. No one’s left, dearest, they’re just outside the door.” Still holding the girl’s hand, Francesca led her over to the sofa. “I didn’t mean to stay away so long,” she began. She didn’t want to upset Georgina even more, but she couldn’t bear to let her niece think she’d abandoned her. “I wanted to visit very much. But when you all left Cheapside, I didn’t know where you’d gone.”

Georgina’s eyes got wide. “Oh, that was frightening,” she confessed in a tiny voice. “Uncle Percy said we had to leave very quickly and we must be very quiet, too. Jack cried because we forgot his favorite blanket.”

“Mrs. Jennings told me.”

“Hmph,” said Georgina, looking shockingly like Giuliana when peeved, two thin lines dividing her eyebrows and her eyes flashing fire. “
She
was glad to see us go. She was rude to Mama and she always complained I swept dirt onto her steps when I never did.”

“I didn’t like her, either,” Francesca said in a confidential whisper, which made Georgina smile cautiously. “But I was so sad to hear you’d gone, and not even told where. I missed you, and have been trying to find you. I came as soon as I knew where you were.”

“I’m so glad you did!” Her sunny smile disappeared quickly, though. “But are you going to argue with Mama again? I don’t like that.”