Chapter 23
Margaret opened the door to Felix’s knock, smiling broadly, and pulled him by the arm into their house, not seeming to notice that anything was amiss.
“We received your note and expected you for dinner. I am glad you have come early, for I must tell you that I’m feeling quite abandoned! I had not thought you so important as to neglect your own sister who is visiting London, without any other acquaintances or means to amuse herself.”
She brought him into the parlor and turned to him, but her smile fell when she saw his face. “What is it, Felix?”
“Is Father here?”
“I expect him at any moment.”
The sound of the key in the lock gave Felix his answer. Mr. Harwood walked in, looking weary, but he smiled when he saw Felix. “You have come early. Margaret, will you see to some tea?”
“Yes, Father,” she said, but Felix stopped her.
“Don’t go for tea yet, I have something to say, and Megs, you should hear it, too.”
Their father went still, eyeing Felix, then gestured to the sofa. “Let us sit, then.”
They sat facing each other in the comfortable chairs of their rented parlor, and Felix scarcely knew how to begin. He was generally of a cheerful disposition, and this hopelessness—this heaviness—was a first.
“I have not had a chance to tell you, or rather I have not dared to tell you.” He smiled feebly. “But I have used half of my inheritance to purchase a house in Russell Square.”
Their father absorbed this in silence for a long moment before returning a cautious answer. “It was quickly done, son, but the money was yours, and I suppose you must have a house of your own. I had thought that maybe in Sussex…” He let the reflection dangle, but what was done was done.
Felix continued, prey to the feeling that he was climbing a steep hill, each confession harder to make than the last. “I had hopes for Lady Sophia Rowlandson, sister to the Earl of Poole and Lord Chawleigh’s neighbor.
I do not believe her indifferent to me and had planned to ask for her hand in marriage. ”
“Oh, Felix,” Margaret said, her eyes shining. “I do like her.”
Their father studied Felix’s expression and appeared to read what was there. “I fear you mean to tell us your efforts were not successful. It is not the moment to remind you of the warning I gave you, so I shall not do that.”
Although his father’s expression had softened, Felix still felt the reproach in his words—and the injustice in them.
“I would not refrain from speaking to her of my feelings, not for any filial respect I might feel toward you, Father. My feelings could not be suppressed, and I was—am—certain that she returns them. Besides, as owner of a respectable house, and with both annual salary and honorable position to my name, I did not wish to deprive either her or myself of a life of happiness simply out of consideration of a difference in station.”
“But she said no?” Meg guessed softly, looking at him.
Felix sighed. “I believe she would have said yes, but we were interrupted. Robert Cunningworth somehow tracked me down and spouted off all sorts of false claims about me in front of her. He called me a hypocrite for preaching reform while living off of two patrons—Lord Chawleigh in my early years and then more recently, the admiral.”
“There is nothing in it that he didn’t know before.” Mr. Harwood furrowed his brows, likely wishing to understand Robert’s aim in hurting Felix—especially since he had treated Robert as a son while he boarded with them.
“He created conclusions built on the faulty knowledge he had. He accused the admiral of having bought my compliance, saying that my ideas for reform were not my own. The admiral’s secretary has been collecting petitions on the behalf of widows for me to bring before Parliament, and a subscription fund has been started to relieve their greatest needs.
He has confounded the two, claiming I am pocketing money for favors given. ”
Bitterness rose up in Felix as he thought of it. “And he has accused me of using that money to purchase the house in Bloomsbury. Except for a direct mention of Russell Square, it’s all in the gossip sheets.
“On—” Felix reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out the letter from the baron. “Father, forgive me, but this came from Lord Chawleigh today. It appears the false accusations are to extend to you.”
He handed the letter over and waited while his father skimmed its brief contents. Margaret was pale-faced, watching their father. He was sorry to bring her into this as well, but she was old enough not to be shielded from what was to be a family trial. They would need to face it together.
Their father folded the letter and leaned back in his chair. He steepled his hands and lifted his eyes to the ceiling as he often did when he was thinking. “It appears he means to subjugate me by removing his favor.”
“Robert also mentioned something about this when he confronted me. But I don’t see what the baron could do.”
Mr. Harwood brought his eyes to Felix, then to Margaret. “He could be slow in paying my tithes and refuse repairs on the house that were promised. And he could suggest to the more influential members of the parish that I am not to be trusted.”
“How could he do something so cruel?” Margaret demanded. “And there is no truth to these claims!”
A faint smile appeared on their father’s face.
“Although I know I need not defend myself to either of you, allow me to reassure you that Mr. Thurlow engaged me to be the executor of his will with the full consent of his heirs. My coming to London for probate had nothing to do with any question of my meddling in his inheritance for my own gains. I was required to come because he has property in more than one diocese. For these matters, it is necessary for the executor to come and present the will in person.”
“I believe you, Father,” Margaret said hotly.
“Indeed, I did not need your reasons for coming to London,” Felix assured him. “It was just to inform you of what can only affect us all.”
After another short silence, it occurred to Felix that he ought to clear his own name as well.
“I hope I need not say that all of these accusations against me are false, as well. You knew of the baron’s support in those early years and his leading me to a clerical position in Brighton.
As you requested, I continued to show Lord Chawleigh every sign of respect and do what I could for him, short of going against my own conscience.
The admiral has not given me any money, other than what is expected to gain a seat.
He and I think alike on reform, and that is why I am representing Gatton. It is not for financial gain.”
“We know that, Felix.” Margaret’s eyes still flashed in indignation that her father and brother could be accused of such falsehoods, and Felix felt an outpouring of affection for her.
“Nor did I need your justification in order to believe you,” Mr. Harwood stated.
“Robert has created his accusation out of partial truths. Regarding the subscription fund for widows, Admiral Mowbray was the first to put his name on the list, a fact I suppose was easy to distort. It seems Cunningworth has mixed the two up, ignoring certain facts and condemning me for both.”
“That is very, very wrong of him,” Margaret said indignantly. “I hope he will repent of this slander.” She turned to their father. “What can we do now?”
Mr. Harwood was not a man to rush his words, and he took his time before answering.
“I had not thought we would ever move. I am loath to leave your mother’s final resting place and start over elsewhere, but perhaps it is time. I met an old Oxford peer at Doctors’ Commons, and he offered to recommend me for a very comfortable living in Kent.”
“Oh!” Margaret’s eyes went wide.
“I told him I would think on it, but I had not seriously intended to take it. I am attached to my parish and to Sussex, and have never had any desire to uproot my family.” He laughed softly.
“But perhaps this is a sign from Providence. I only hope Caro, Anne, and Mary will not be too overset by the change.”
“I think my sisters will look upon it as an adventure,” Margaret said with a firmness that showed her growing confidence. “As for myself, I can only think that moving closer to Felix would turn into a happy advantage for us all.” She smiled at him.
“Then I will think about it some more and seek out Mr. Blackwood tomorrow.” There was warmth in Mr. Harwood’s regard when he turned it to Felix. “And what is your plan to be?”
Felix was too weary to think. “Tonight, I shall dine with you. And then tomorrow, I believe I should pay a visit to the admiral and bring the petitions and attached subscriptions to the Commons as proof. I will have to defend my honor.”
The next day, Marie came as promised and informed Sophia that her father and Mr. Edwards believed that the gossips were up to mischief and that there was no basis to their claims. They were either purposefully misreading—or accidentally confounding—the subscription fund attached to the widows’ petitions, turning it into one where Mr. Harwood funneled the money into his own coffers.
But such an offense was not easily done, not without risking exposure and banishment, besides the fact that neither of them thought Mr. Harwood to be such a man.
As to the house he had purchased in Russell Square, her father knew nothing of it but vowed not to have given Mr. Harwood a farthing more than what was needed for his seat.
“Certainly he did not,” Sophia said. “Even if I do not know Mr. Harwood as well as I do your father, I cannot be convinced that either of them could participate in something so self-seeking.”
“And Bartholomew”—Marie looked self-conscious—“Mr. Edwards, rather, has promised to put together all the documentation needed to exonerate Mr. Harwood, so he might present it in the Commons.”
“It is good of him. I am very glad to hear it.” Sophia was beginning to feel hopeful again. “Thank you, Marie.”