Chapter 7 #3
And then Mama fell over in a faint, collapsing against the arm of the mint-green sofa.
Eleanor began to fan her, prepared for this event, but no one else moved.
It was as if Papa and Georgie did not even know that Mama had swooned.
Then Georgie stood, incredulous, still staring at Lizzie. “My God,” she said.
Papa was looking at her with the same absolute disbelief. Then he came alive. He rushed over to the sofa, where Eleanor now had smelling salts under Mama’s nose. Mama coughed, coming to consciousness as he knelt at her side.
“I had to leave to have the baby,” Lizzie whispered, hugging Ned too tightly.
Ned awoke completely and pushed at her shoulders. “Da,” he said, a command. “Da!” He had a vocabulary of a dozen words now.
“Hush,” Lizzie tried, barely looking at him. She felt a tear slipping down her cheek.
Georgie had covered her mouth with her hand. Her amber eyes were huge. “He is your son?” she asked as if she did not believe it.
Lizzie nodded. “Please love him the way that I do,” she somehow managed to say.
Tears filled Georgie’s eyes. She choked and sat down hard.
“Da!” Ned ordered. “Ned, da!”
Lizzie put him down. He clung to her legs in order to remain standing. Then he smiled at Georgie, two dimples appearing in his cheeks.
Finally, she looked at him, and when she really saw him, her eyes widened even more in sheer comprehension. In that moment, Lizzie knew she recognized Ned and knew that his father was Tyrell de Warenne.
Georgie’s stunned gaze went from Ned to Lizzie. The comprehension remained there, impossible to misread.
Lizzie was afraid.
Papa came to his senses. He launched himself to his feet without his cane, which he had dropped by the hearth. “Who is he? Lizzie, I demand to know who this child’s father is!” He was red with fury now. “I want to know who did this to you! By damn, he will make this right!”
Lizzie flinched. She had never seen her father lose his temper before, and she had never heard him curse, not once in her entire life.
Papa was the most mild-mannered and gentle man she knew.
But he looked ready to commit murder now.
Lizzie shook her head. She had expected disappointment, but Papa was enraged.
“Do not tell me you don’t know who the father is!” Papa roared, shaking his fist at her. He was turning purple now.
Lizzie cried out. “Papa. Please. You will have a stroke. Please, sit down!”
But Papa did not move.
Mama moaned.
Lizzie bit her lip, turning from Papa to Mama, and as she did, she saw the accusation in Georgie’s eyes. Lizzie’s temples throbbed. This was far worse than she had expected, and she needed her sister as an ally now.
“Lizzie!” Mama cried, beginning to sob.
Lizzie hurried to her. Eleanor was helping her to sit upright.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” she whispered, dropping to her knees and groping for her hand.
Behind her, she heard Ned shriek in outrage as he fell to the floor.
She glanced back and saw Georgie helping him up.
She faced her mother again. “I’m so sorry! ”
“Sorry! Sorry is not enough!” Mama cried. “You are ruined! Ruined!” she wailed, tears streaking her cheeks.
“But there is Ned,” Lizzie tried, swallowing. “Isn’t he handsome? And he is so clever, Mama. He is your grandson!”
“Handsome? Clever? You are ruined! We are all ruined! Oh, God, Mr. Harold will never marry Georgie now! He will break it off the moment he hears of this. Lizzie, how could you?”
“I’m sorry,” Lizzie said again, her heart feeling as if it had stopped. Surely Mama would love Ned, her own grandson!
“I demand to know the name of this child’s father immediately,” Papa said, barely controlling his fury.
Lizzie flinched. On her knees, she shifted to look at him. “It doesn’t matter,” she said vainly.
“It doesn’t matter? Of course it matters!” Mama screeched.
Ned was sitting on the floor, staring with avid interest at Mama. Georgie stood behind him, clearly watching after him.
“This is an intolerable situation and he will make things right,” Papa declared, his fists clenched.
Lizzie knew she must stop this subject immediately. “He’s married,” she said abruptly, hating having to tell another lie.
“He’s married?” Mama wept. “Oh, dear Lord, we are truly ruined. No one will ever have us into their homes again! Oh! Another child to raise—another mouth to feed!”
Lizzie was ill. She rocked back on her heels and sat down on the floor. Ned crawled to her and she took him onto her lap. “He is your grandson,” she whispered. “Not another mouth to feed.”
Mama covered her face with her hands, sobbing helplessly in sheer grief.
Lizzie looked at Papa, who sat beside Mama, his expression crushed with defeat. She trembled and looked at her aunt. “I should not have come home.”
Eleanor shook her head and said softly, “There was no other choice. Give them time.”
Mama dropped her hands and ceased crying. “How could you do this to us?” she demanded.
Lizzie did not know what to say. Slowly, she got to her feet. “I made a mistake.”
“Yes, a mistake that will cost everyone in this family. We will never survive this scandal,” Mama said bitterly.
Lizzie wondered if she would even have a roof over her head.
“Enough,” Papa said wearily. “Mama, enough. Lizzie never intended this. We have all suffered a great shock. I think we should adjourn this gathering for the moment. I am tired. I wish to lie down.” He groped for his cane and, using it, he stood.
Appearing twenty years older than he was, he shuffled to the door.
Mama also stood. Leaning heavily on Eleanor, she gave Lizzie an accusing glance and followed Papa from the room, still on Eleanor’s arm. “I am going to my rooms and I do not wish to be disturbed,” she said, beginning to cry again, this time almost inaudibly.
Lizzie closed her eyes, alone now with Georgie and Ned.
Georgie shook her head, a tear finally spilling, and she walked out of the parlor, too.
Lizzie wished she had not come home.