Chapter 10
The morning had begun badly.
Nathaniel had stopped at his club on the way to Lady Woodside's, as was his habit, intending only to collect a letter from his steward and take a quick cup of coffee before continuing on his way.
He had been in the entrance hall no more than a minute when Lord Pemberton — a man he had known since Eton, a man who had stood beside him at more than one supper — passed him on the stairs without a word.
Not a cut direct, precisely. Something worse: a measured nod, the kind one gives to an acquaintance whose company one has decided to endure rather than seek.
Pemberton's eyes had moved over him and then away, as if Nathaniel had become something slightly less interesting than the banister.
He understood. He had stood beside Miss Fairleigh in the park, publicly and visibly, and the ton had drawn its conclusions. The whispers were no longer about whether Miss Fairleigh deserved Lady Warrington's fortune. They were about whether Viscount Ashcombe had lost his judgment.
A second gentleman — Sir Edward Holt — had been warmer but in that particular way that was worse than coldness.
He had clapped Nathaniel on the shoulder in the corridor and said, with a smile that carried too much meaning, "I hear you have taken an interest in the Fairleigh girl, Ashcombe.
Brave of you." The emphasis on brave had been unmistakable.
It was the word men used when they meant foolish but were too polite to say so.
Nathaniel had said nothing. He had finished his coffee, collected his letter, and picked up his hat from the stand by the door.
The doorman had held it open for him with the same deference as always.
The street outside had been the same street it had been yesterday.
But his standing among these men had turned, quietly and irrevocably, and he could feel the new weight of it settling across his shoulders as he climbed into the carriage and gave Lady Woodside's address.
He did not turn back.
Nathaniel looked wearily down at the tea cup in his hand, wondering whether or not Lady Woodside would ever finish speaking so that he might ask her his question.
It had been at least ten minutes since she had first begun to talk — seemingly delighted with his unexpected visit — but since that time, the older lady had been attempting to regale him with stories of their extended family.
At present, she was speaking on someone named Arthur, whom Nathaniel presumed could not have borne any title or had any significance in any way, given that he was spoken of by his Christian name only.
His stomach twisted, wondering if his brother's suggestion that he speak to Lady Woodside had been purposeful, perhaps aware that this is what would take place.
James had not, as yet, shown any change of heart or mind when it came to Miss Fairleigh and her inheritance, but Nathaniel had been pleased he had made this next suggestion.
He was no longer as delighted as he had been.
"Yes, Lady Woodside, that does sound interesting," he murmured, having paid not the least bit of attention to what was being said about this distant relation.
When she paused for breath, Nathaniel leapt in, setting his tea cup down as he spoke.
"I do wonder, Lady Woodside, if I might ask you something about my great-aunt. "
The lady's eyes widened, her grey hair pulled back into a chignon that was, to his eyes, slowly beginning to unravel. "Oh yes, of course!" she exclaimed, her lips pulling into a broad smile. "I would be very glad to speak of my cousin."
"I wonder," Nathaniel continued, before she could begin to wax lyrical about all of Lady Warrington's connections to her, "if you knew anything about her generosity.
" It was not a direct question about Lord Harding and his failing financial position, but Nathaniel did not want to ask with any such directness.
What was important at present was for him to hear what Lady Woodside had to say on the subject in general.
He could not yet trust that the lady would be in any way forthcoming or, in fact, discreet as to their conversation in general.
"Generous?" Lady Woodside tilted her head, studying him for a brief moment. The silence was what surprised him, having not expected her to fall quiet. Whatever was it he had said that had given her pause?
"Are you suggesting that she was not kind and considerate when it came to her vast fortune?
" Lady Woodside's tone had darkened as Nathaniel's eyes flared, lines in her forehead deepening as she frowned.
"I must say, I do not think that I would be at all inclined to talk about her in such a manner, Lord Ashcombe. "
"You mistake me," Nathaniel said hastily. "I wish to understand her generous nature, that is all."
Lady Woodside paused for the second time, watching him with clear blue eyes that suddenly became assessing and a little sharp. Nathaniel said nothing more, watching her with what he hoped was an open expression, having no desire to have her upset and thereafter refuse to speak with him.
"She was generous, yes." Much to Nathaniel's relief, Lady Woodside began to speak again, but it was with slow deliberation, as if she were trying to understand whether or not what he had said was the truth.
"I believe her marriage was a happy one because she and Lord Warrington were so aligned in that way.
" The frown lightened just a little from her forehead, her eyes still steady on his.
"Not everyone is as fortunate to have such an arrangement become one of affection and alignment. "
Nathaniel reached for his now cold tea and took a sip in the hope it might encourage Lady Woodside to continue speaking, to see that he was genuinely interested in what she had to say.
"I thank you, Lady Woodside," he said, setting it back down again.
"I was only acquainted with Lord Warrington as a child.
I recall news coming of his death, but I was only a boy at that time. "
Lady Woodside sighed and shook her head, a softness coming back into her expression.
"Indeed, it was a very difficult time for my cousin," she said.
"She and I both lost our husbands the very same year, and I suppose, in that way, we found comfort in each other.
She was determined to continue with the same generous spirit as he had always had, however.
" Her gaze drifted away, echoes of long distant memories beginning to press into her words.
"At times, we would sit together and discuss what she might do or whom she might wish to bless.
But it was always anonymous, you understand.
She did not often want to be known as the benefactor. "
A thrill of understanding rushed up into Nathaniel's chest, making him catch his breath. This, in turn, brought a sharp look from Lady Woodside, and Nathaniel had to feign a bout of coughing to cover his astonishment.
"More tea?"
He nodded, stuffing his handkerchief back into his pocket, relieved that he had a few moments to gather his composure.
If Lady Woodside was correct in all she was sharing, then Lady Warrington might well have been the one who came to Lord Harding's aid, who perhaps paid off some of his debts so that he would be free from that heavy burden.
But why?
That question still dogged him and, reaching for the tea cup, he frowned hard.
"You are displeased by her generosity, then?"
"No, not in the least!" Quickly wiping the frown from his forehead, Nathaniel offered what he hoped was a warm smile.
"I was thinking of how unusual it was for someone to do such a thing.
Usually, when one is generous, one wishes for others to know of it.
" His smile twisted. "It is a blessing not only to the person who receives the coin but also to the one who gives it.
Society thinks well of them and their standing is much improved. "
Lady Woodside shook her head. "Ah, but Lady Warrington did not either want or need such a thing," she said.
"She understood how easily one's standing could be affected by the acts and opinions of others — both good and bad.
For her own sake, she did not want to be applauded by others, did not require their accolades.
To her mind, she needed only to know that her own character was of good standing, that she was doing all she could to be of benefit to those around her.
Reputation was important, yes, but she was determined to act in a way that befit her standing, whether others knew of it or not. "
This was unlike anything Nathaniel had ever heard about his great-aunt. He had known the lady, of course, and had always found her a warm and kind character, but had never realized the true depths of it before.
He set his teacup down with a care that bordered on deliberation, the porcelain clicking softly against the saucer.
The pattern was forming in front of him now, and he could not look away from it.
Lady Warrington at Miss Fairleigh's age: a young woman with a failing father, a reputation in danger, a future narrowing to a set of choices that were no choices at all.
And then someone had stepped forward — not publicly, not for applause, but quietly, anonymously — and had changed the trajectory of her life.
The same pattern. The same circumstances. The same intervention.
His understanding of what he was hearing turned over entirely. This was not the story of a wealthy woman's eccentric generosity. This was the story of a debt repaid across generations, a kindness passed forward because kindness had once been passed to her.
He looked at Lady Woodside, and the question he asked next came not from strategy but from a plain wish to understand the woman his great-aunt had been.