Chapter 15 #2
“Indeed, she does.” Mr. Tuttle-Kirk nodded in satisfaction, his mustache tilting upwards at the ends in a shadow of a smile.
“Her father was a country squire and scholar in Cheshire. Unfortunately, the family home was under entail to a distant cousin, who was only willing to support Miss Williams with the minimum of funds until she entered into an arrangement or understanding, at which point he requested that the gentleman’s family support her as an assurance of her commitment to the wedding.
She retained her entire dowry, of course, and a small stipend left to her outside the entail, but she was, for all intents and purposes, alone.
And as I understand it, her education and upbringing made the occupation of governess a trifle unlikely. ”
That made even less sense than her sorry excuse of a family refusing to take responsibility for her, let alone care for her. No wonder she had attached herself to someone like Leonard. She needed a way to live, and any warm and covered space would do.
Perhaps not quite so crude as that, but she needed to be freed of her family’s clutches, and an engagement to someone with more than one residence was a certain way to see to that.
“So Leonard offered her London or the country?” West asked, returning them to the original point.
“Yes, sir.” The solicitor looked over the notes before him, nodding in confirmation. “He made his wishes of touring the Continent for an extended time clear and offered those residences for her use. She expressed a desire for the country, was told it was a rustic situation—”
West snorted in derision, the word misleading as well as inaccurate.
Tuttle-Kirk ignored his sound. “And she expressed understanding and still chose the country. She asked for permission to function as mistress of the estate, despite not being wed, and he agreed and wrote a letter stating the fact. The letter was witnessed and sealed with approval, giving her the legal standing to make household decisions. Up until the wedding, of course.”
“And was the wedding date ever set?” West asked dryly.
“Oh, the wedding was held six months after her taking up residence at Fenmore,” the solicitor replied without hesitation.
The entire world seemed to slow further and further until it stopped entirely. All life surely froze, as did the blood in his veins and the air in his lungs. Only a faint ringing sound, almost a buzzing, echoed in his ears, and sensation in his entire body faded into nothingness.
Wedding. The wedding. Between Leonard and Elena. Not in theory, but in practice. Not in some future day that would now never be.
It had happened.
An odd ache and sense of nausea filled West, something he could not explain and struggled to swallow down.
“They were married,” he finally said, his tone flat.
“By proxy, yes.” Mr. Tuttle-Kirk shuffled the papers and pulled one out in particular. “The marriage certificate is here.”
West didn’t care, couldn’t care. No paper was going to settle his mind or his head—or his stomach—about this.
“So she is Lady Bickham.”
“Technically.”
West cocked his head. “Technically? The marriage is valid, is it not?”
Mr. Tuttle-Kirk nodded once. “It is.”
“Then how is it technically as opposed to actually?” West inquired, rapidly losing patience.
Reviewing another page of apparent notation, Mr. Tuttle-Kirk’s thick white brows furrowed together.
“She requested to remain known and addressed as Miss Williams until the day Lord Bickham chose to reside in England, and for the marriage to remain secret until that time as well. I doubt anyone—other than myself, the witnesses, and the clergyman who performed the ceremony—are aware of the connection.”
West shook his head slowly, disbelief now mingling in with everything else. “Why would she do that?”
Tuttle-Kirk’s mouth formed an impressive downturn beneath the mustache.
“The letter and seal of her authority only extended to the household at Fenmore. Miss Williams had concerns about the estate as a whole, the lands and the tenants, et cetera. She was powerless to act in their interest, and his lordship was, erm, not inclined to reply to concerns expressed. And I believe there were some concerns about the estate manager at the time.”
Rokesby Jr., who had been in Leonard’s pocket just enough to give the impression of capability, and in his own pocket so much it was astonishing he had not moved into the house at Fenmore, among his other indulgences.
Elena had not been content to ignore the trouble she was seeing. She had wanted to act, to do something, to stop waiting for someone who did not care to approve a course that only she could recommend.
She had married Leonard to save the Fenmore estate. She was the Dowager Lady Bickham, and there wasn’t even a proper dower house to set her up in. Elena was, for all intents and purposes, his sister by marriage.
But what had come with that marriage? Had Elena suffered at all from it? Or had it all been a convenient legality that served to make things simpler? Had Leonard ever come home to claim his secret wife, even if his travels had not been completed?
He paled as a worse thought occurred to him: Could Elena be with child?
Leonard’s child?
If it was a boy, it would negate West’s claim to the estate, but either way, a child would also ensure that Elena was tied to the memory of Leonard forever.
Yes, the pair of them could raise the child to treat Fenmore the way it ought to be treated, treasure it and support the land and tenants better than Leonard would have dreamed. It would not be the worst thing for the estate.
But it might be the very worst thing for West.
And he was afraid to consider why.