Chapter Four #4
She hoped she had done the right thing by bringing Thomas here.
Would he too be forced to mould himself to fit Society’s strict expectations as he grew up?
Yet the alternative hadn’t been an option.
Now he would have opportunities she had never had.
A warm home. An education. He would never go hungry.
‘Edward always rebelled though,’ Miss Linton said. ‘I remember being shocked as a young girl. I idolised his brother and couldn’t understand why Edward would risk his father’s wrath by acting out.’
Bea leaned in. She hoped the woman would indulge her. She found she was greedy for information about him, the man who was to be her husband.
‘He was always the one up a tree, wallowing in mud, coming home covered in scratches and holes in his breeches. I think he took after his mother in that respect.’
His mother. Bea realised she knew so very little of him and his family. ‘What happened to her?’
Miss Linton visibly baulked and got to her feet. ‘Forgive me, I should not have brought her up.’
Bea frowned. ‘Did she die?’
‘Really, I should not have mentioned her. It was not proper of me. It is not something that is ever openly talked about.’
His mother wasn’t ever spoken about? ‘Why ever not?’ She would hate it if Thomas grew up not being able to talk about her, as if she didn’t exist. She shuddered at how close it had come to that being a reality.
Miss Linton lowered her voice. ‘No one knows the full details. It was a long time ago. Though I remember her fondly. She was very beautiful. Edward doted on her. He was never quite the same after she went away. More tea?’
Bea wanted to ask more about it, but deep male voices in the hallway stole her attention. Was that Edward, talking to his father? Was the Duke here? No, by the sound of it, they weren’t talking but arguing—their tempers frayed.
‘You were expected without fail last night, Edward, and yet you did not appear. I began to fear something dreadful had befallen you. You had better explain yourself.’
‘I will do, if you would allow me the opportunity to speak.’ She imagined his stern face raking in a breath, trying to calm himself.
‘Father, it has come to my attention I have compromised a woman’s reputation.
’ Bea gripped the napkin in her lap. ‘A woman who has no status. No connections. Nothing. Now there is a child. My child. Father, I have a son.’
There was a long pause, and Bea realised she was holding her breath. She swung to look at Miss Linton, who had also halted in horror, perhaps unsure she should be privy to such a conversation, her hand still holding her raised cup.
‘I am obliged to now act with honour and make provision for the woman and the boy. Father, I intend to marry her, to atone for my mistake.’
Mistake. She clenched the material tighter in her fist. She felt winded by the word once more, and the resigned, reluctant tone of his voice.
The older man cursed, his obvious shock, fury and concern for the Harrington family name erupting in wild temper.
‘This is a recklessness not even I believed you capable of, Edward. Your brother would never have behaved in such an irresponsible way. Do you have no regard for me or the name you bear? Because of your foolish actions, you have endangered not only your own future, but the standing of this entire family.’
‘Father—’
‘You will say nothing more.’ The man cut him off sharply. ‘I will hear no further words on the matter. We shall make swift arrangements. This woman and child will be sent away and dealt with privately.’
Bea gasped, and she brought her hand up over her mouth to stifle it. Miss Linton placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and her small kindness made Bea’s eyes well with tears.
‘From this point on you will conduct yourself better if you still wish to be my heir. If you want to inherit this estate. My title,’ the man continued. ‘You will still marry Miss Deverell and she will never learn of this. Do you hear me?’ And then he descended into a coughing fit.
‘Water,’ she heard Edward call out. ‘Someone fetch some goddamn water.’
The door flew open, hitting the wall with force, and Bea jumped at the loud bang. She watched, wide-eyed, as Edward carried the elderly man under his shoulder as his father continued to cough hard into a handkerchief, his face puce. Edward lowered him down into a chair.
Bea stared, her whole body trembling in fury and fear at the words she’d just heard spoken about her. Edward looked across at her and met her loaded gaze.
Finally, the coughing stopped, and when the Duke saw her, seated to the table, his eyes bulged.
‘Father, this is Beatrice Puddifoot, the mother of my child.’ Edward turned to Mrs Potter, hovering with the jug of water in the doorway. ‘Mrs Potter, would you be so kind as to fetch my son and bring him to me?’
‘Certainly, my lord.’ She placed the water down on the table and hurried off.
‘Father, I intend to marry Beatrice, provide for her, and ensure the child bears no stain of illegitimacy—giving you the Harrington grandchild, the dynasty, you wanted. Nothing you say shall change my mind on the matter.’
Bea didn’t know who was more surprised—her or the Duke—that Edward should still assert his intention to marry her in the face of such uproar. That he should risk his relationship with his father—and his inheritance—for her.
The older man seemed to have lost his tongue, now that he had been fronted with the very woman who had been the focus of his scorn.
The room descended into heavy silence until Mrs Potter returned with Thomas, who was oblivious to his future being discussed as he slept.
She handed him to Edward and Bea’s heart was in her mouth.
‘Father, this is Thomas. Your first grandchild. He is six months old.’
‘Thomas?’ The man reared.
‘Thomas,’ Edward reiterated.
Bea looked between them. Was the name significant?
The man rose from the table to take a look at the boy and he stared down at him for a long moment. ‘He has your nose,’ he finally acknowledged.
‘I know.’
Bea floundered. So Edward had seen the resemblance!
‘I am very disappointed in you, Edward,’ he said.
‘But I can see there is no point arguing with you. I know what you are like when you have set your mind to something. But that doesn’t mean I have to give you my blessing.
What, might I ask, will you tell people?
What am I to tell Miss Deverell and her family about our arrangement? ’
Bea’s heart lurched. Miss Deverell. Could she really let Edward go ahead with this if his heart belonged to someone else?
‘The truth—simply that I have decided to marry another.’
Bea felt wretched—she didn’t want to come between them and ruin his happiness. She didn’t want to be trapped in a loveless marriage. Surely, neither did he?
‘I do not understand you,’ his father said. ‘You have the chance to marry a woman of standing. You do not need to wed this, this harlot!’
Bile rose in Bea’s throat, in disgust at how close she had come to making his words true. She wondered if Edward were to find out how low she had stooped, whether he would still go ahead with the wedding. Yet she hadn’t compromised her values. She wasn’t the harlot the Duke was describing her as.
‘Take her as a mistress if for some reason you feel the need to bed her again, for that can be the only reason for this insanity.’
She was horrified she should be discussed in such a manner—the man’s words loaded with judgement, as if she wasn’t sitting right there, listening. It made her feel small—as if she was beneath him. Beneath them all. And in front of the other women in the room. In front of Edward.