Patricia Rice (51 page)

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Authors: Wayward Angel

BOOK: Patricia Rice
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But he wasn't half a world away. He was here now, driving up the lane, with Josie by his side. They had both rigged themselves out in all their finery, Josie in the latest winter fashion of fur-trimmed pelisse and muff even though the temperature remained mild, and Sir Archibald in top hat and frock coat.

Holding a bouncing Amy who now shouted "Mama! Mama!" Dora waited for the explanation for this unexpected arrival. Harriet leaned on her cane and looked the part of grand matriarch greeting their guests.

The newcomers hurried up the stairs, smiling broadly.

Sir Archibald held out his hand to Pace. "Congratulations, young man. I knew you would succeed in any endeavor you chose to undertake."

Pace reluctantly accepted the older man's hand and gave it a brief shake. "I thank you, I think."

Josie smacked him lightly with her muff. "Don't be such a goose, Pace. Archie is here with good news. Pretend you haven't turned into a surly Yankee and invite us in."

Archie? Dora exchanged a glance with Pace, then surrendered Amy to her mother and led the way inside. Engrossed in free beer, the crowd outside scarcely noticed their departure.

In the front parlor, Pace helped his mother into a seat while Dora settled into a chair near the fireplace. Sir Archibald took a proprietary position beside Josie.

When everyone looked at the solicitor expectantly, he harrumphed a bit, glanced at Josie, then settled his gaze on Dora. "Lady Alexandra, I took the liberty of inquiring of your husband the circumstances by which you were transported to this country. He corroborated a tale I had already heard from other sources in Cornwall. If you don't mind, I would like you to repeat what you remember as carefully as you can."

"I'd rather not." One of the Quaker ways that Dora had decided to continue was the refusal to acknowledge titles. She would not call this man "sir" anything. "It was a long time ago and isn't relevant to anything in the present."

The solicitor looked solemn. "I'm afraid it is, my dear. You see, your father was never convicted of any crime in the deaths of two people that day. He was held in custody for a while, but witnesses were too terrified to come forward. Only the Friend who remained behind to report that you lived would stand as witness, and a Quaker's testimony won't stand in court because they consider it an insult to swear to their truthfulness. It may be impossible bringing your father to trial after all these years, but your corroboration of the story will give the courts evidence preventing him from claiming any authority over your mother's affairs."

Dora hesitated until Josie intruded. "For land's sake, Dora! He's just asking you to tell what you remember. He isn't asking you to stand up in court. Men who brutalize women should be publicly whipped, but this is the next best thing."

That was true. If her testimony would in any way prevent her father or Gareth from ever hurting another woman, then she had a duty to give it. Haltingly, Dora repeated what she had told Pace, carefully emphasizing that much of that day was more nightmare than concrete memory.

Sir Archibald nodded, took a few notes on paper he withdrew from his pocket, asked a few questions, then tucked the document away. "I regret that you had to carry that nightmare with you all these years. Lady Alexandra. I also regret that I believed your father's explanation of events and dismissed the charges of the young man who declared you alive. Recent occurrences have opened my eyes. I have offered the earl my resignation, and I fear he will have great difficulty finding another solicitor or barrister to represent him once your tale becomes public knowledge, as it most certainly will if I have anything to say about it."

Dora clasped her hands in her skirt and stared at the floor. She didn't notice as Josie slipped from the room to put her sleepy daughter to bed. "I suppose I should despise him for all he's done, but I cannot help thinking that all turned out for the best. This is where I belong. I could never go back there."

Pace placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The solicitor nodded approvingly.

"That's as it should be. You won't be called upon to return to England if you have no desire to do so. I would just like you to know that your testimony today has saved another woman from suffering as your mother did. My sister was prepared to accept the earl's offer until Gareth asked my help in locating you. Until then, I'd understood you had died with your mother. The change in story concerned me, particularly when I realized the earl had suffered financial reverses. I have always considered him a devout and Christian man, one who did not succumb to the temptations and licentiousness so frequently indulged in by men of his wealth and upbringing. I never had reason to question his word. His denial of your existence until you stood to inherit a substantial fortune led me to question his credibility. I have already made my sister aware of my doubts and she has agreed to wait for my decision. I will notify her immediately that the earl is not a suitable husband. All of England will know that as soon as I return."

Dora looked up to meet the man's cool, gray eyes. She nodded. "Thank you. I would not see anyone suffer as my mother suffered. I only wish I could warn others of Gareth's cruel propensities too. I do not know if this is something that is passed from father to son, but Gareth does not even make a secret of his cruelty. He is a weak man who seeks to control those weaker than he. I wish I were in a position to warn others."

"As to that, I can make no promises. He has bought off the daughter of one of your father's tenants when he beat her so severely that she couldn't walk again, but that is a confidence I cannot make public. Should I hear that he is thinking of taking a wife, I will make it my place to warn off her parents, but he will be an earl someday. Not many will heed my warning. Perhaps he will change. Stranger things have happened."

Pace squeezed her shoulder, and Dora covered his hand with hers. Pace could have developed into a man even more violent than Gareth, but he had an innate decency that Gareth would never have.

She nearly missed what the solicitor said while she stared into the loving depths of her husband's eyes. Only when Pace's eyes grew wide, and he tore his gaze from her to look at their guest did she return her attention to the conversation.

Harriet snorted and pounded her cane on the floor in a demonstration of glee. Josie came back downstairs and stood in the doorway, smiling. When Dora returned a blank gaze, Josie huffed into the room, forcing Sir Archibald to rise.

"She didn't even hear you, Archie! You just gave her more money than this town is worth, and she wasn't even listening. I swear, it would be easier if you just took the money and dumped it into the ocean. It would do just about as much good."

Dora turned back to the red-faced solicitor. He pulled at his tight collar and looked down at Josie as if she were a banquet for a starving man. Josie didn't even notice.

"Perhaps you'd better repeat what you just said, sir," Pace said politely. "Something about Dora's grandmother?"

Sir Archibald cleared his throat and tore his gaze from the woman hanging on to his coat arm as they reseated themselves. "Your maternal grandmother changed her will after your mother's death, Lady Alexandra. She despised Lord Beaumont and blamed him for everything, despite his proclaimed innocence. She chose to believe our one witness to the contrary, and even donated large sums to the Society of Friends in later years. She was convinced you were alive and well somewhere, and she left her entire estate to you, should you be found. The balance was to go to various charities as well as the Society should you not be found by the date of your twenty-fifth birthday. It is yours now. I've arranged for the transfer of funds."

Dora stared at him blankly. Pace spoke for her.

"I thought there was some objection to me as a suitable husband."

The solicitor beamed. "After hearing you speak so eloquently that day in the courtroom, I notified the trustees that you were more than suitable. I've since sent ample evidence verifying it. They are satisfied."

Still, Dora didn't speak. Pace squeezed her shoulder and sought the catch in this unexpected prize. "Under Kentucky law, Dora's husband has complete control over her assets. I'm sure your trustees will wish to reconsider."

That brought Dora to herself. She stamped one small shoe and glared at her husband. "Don't be ridiculous, Payson Nicholls. What would I do with a fortune? You may have it if you like. If we're to have half a dozen children, you will need it."

All heads swerved to stare at the demure young woman sitting with hands crossed in her lap. Pace spoke for them all, with a nervous catch in his throat. "Half a dozen children?"

Lifting her skirts, Dora stood up and started out of the room with a regal tread that would have suited a queen. She didn't even turn her head as she replied, "One in the cradle and one on the way seems a good start as far as I am concerned. I'll check on Amy while I'm upstairs."

She stopped and turned around, her gaze fastening on her dumbstruck husband. "And you'll need to provide for Amy too. Charlie would have wanted it that way."

The riotous laughter outside echoed the merriment in the room as Pace sank, speechless, to the chair his wife had just vacated while Harriet and Josie talked excitedly.

Dora might not say much, but when she did, she certainly made her presence felt.

Pace stared at the ceiling overhead where his wife's footsteps could be heard. With a curse, he said adamantly, "I will not name any son of mine Charlie."

Josie laughed and offered a wager to the opposite effect. While Harriet and Sir Archibald agreed on sums in Pace's favor, Pace rose from his chair like a man struck from too many directions at once.

He left a roomful of approving smiles as he started toward the stairs, his speed increasing with each step closer to the woman above. Below, his audience waited expectantly and were rewarded for their patience by the sudden hoarse creak of a bed.

As the guests hastily said embarrassed farewells, laughter drifted through the halls and down the stairs—carefree laughter that hadn't been heard in years.

The harps of heaven couldn't have made a sweeter sound.

 

The End

 

 

 

Author's Note

 

Since this is a romance, I make no apology for not depicting the actual horrors of child abuse. I do apologize, however, if anyone reads this and believes that abused children can overcome their devastating emotional scars simply through their own motivation. Miracles can happen, but generally it requires the intervention of a third party.

Instead of offering actual scenes of abuse, I have attempted to portray the results of abuse through my characters. Children who suffer rejection from their families are frequently hostile and aggressive, emotionally unstable, lack self-esteem, and have a negative view of the world. Neglect often results in antisocial behavior, indulgence in drugs or alcohol, and inappropriate behavior such as fighting and recklessness. Often, a child who has never been praised for good behavior but is constantly punished for perceived faults will think the attention he receives for misbehaving is reason to continue the bad behavior.

With that kind of background, it is no wonder that abused children often grow into adults who cannot deal with life in any normal fashion. Girls, in particular, seek approval. As women, they continue seeking the approval of the kind of men who most resemble the parent who rejected them, thus inviting further abuse. Boys, being more aggressive, tend to take the opposite route. As men, their behavior is hostile, and they seek the kind of women who lack the self-esteem to fight back, women often like their mothers.

My characters may overcome these handicaps through their own strength of character and with the help of outside forces, but in reality, abused children, abused spouses, and their abusers need the kind of counseling the 1860s couldn't provide.

 

 

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