23. Chapter 23
The silence in the drawing room was deafening.
Javenia had recounted how she come to be in the garden with Algenon to her parents, knowing there was nothing now that could save her reputation.
She’d been caught kissing him in the middle of a fountain, her dress clinging to every inch of skin.
No one in London would believe it all an accident.
Algenon had two choices. Marry her or let the scandal ruin them both.
She, of course, would bear the brunt of it because Society was unfair like that.
A woman once fallen was fallen forever, unless she had either wealth or extensive connections like Miss Weston.
Then again, only rumors of liaisons followed Miss Weston around, not a full public display.
Algenon’s punishment, however, would not be so long lasting. Eventually, if he behaved himself, he would be considered redeemed and dozens of ladies would flock to him again.
“I believe marriage is your only option.” Her father lifted a steaming teacup to his lips.
Her mother nodded emphatically. “I could not agree more. Once Lord Roberts is well, we will start the marriage contracts.”
Javenia pulled the thick blanket closer about her shoulders and shook her head. “No, Mama. We need to remove to the country.”
“Remove to the country?” Papa set his teacup and saucer down on the side table with a thunk. “Why on earth would we remove to the country? We must not back down now. Such a retreat would only proclaim your guilt rather than clear your name of wrongdoing.”
“But I did do wrong, Papa.” Javenia thought all her tears had run dry, but they came afresh.
“Mama once warned me away from trapping Algenon, and that is exactly what I have done. I wanted him to come to me of his own will. Now I am no better than all the other girls who have tried to force his hand.”
Mama reached across the space that divided their chairs and placed a hand on her shoulder. “This is different, my dear. I am certain he would have made you an offer tonight if you’d not been intercepted.”
Javenia dropped her head. “I am not. He may love me, but that does not always equate to marriage. Especially when the woman is already ruined.”
Papa pushed to his feet and paced in front of her. “Nonsense. When we explain to the Ton that you were exchanging tokens of love in order to seal your engagement, all will be forgotten.”
The clock on the mantel ticked and Javenia slumped farther into her seat.
“Except that is not how I was ruined, and Lord Roberts knows it. He’d never allow me to marry his son knowing I…
seven years ago… that Lord Penwick…” She couldn’t say the words.
They caught in her throat, threatening to choke her if she so much as uttered what had happened that night.
Her father stilled and her mother’s hand slipped away from her shoulder. This was the moment she’d feared most over the last seven years. How could she tell them that their precious firstborn, their initial hope for the future, had been defiled?
“Are you saying—” Her mother’s voice cracked.
Javenia peeked up at her father, who looked like he’d been hit over the head. Stumbling backward, he slumped into a chair. He stared at her for a long moment before he ran a hand over his wrinkled face.
“Did he take advantage of you, my girl?”
“Would I still be your girl if he did?” she choked out.
His eyes widened and he jumped to his feet, crossing the small space between them in three strides. Dropping to a knee beside her chair, he took her hand in his.
“You will always be our girl. Nothing will ever change that.”
Javenia sniffled. “Then you do not blame me?”
Her mother spoke up. “Why would we blame you?”
“Because when Lord Penwick accosted me, I didn’t fight back. I was so frightened at first that I couldn’t even scream.”
“At first?” her father asked.
“When I heard Algenon call my name, it shook me enough to cry out. That is how he came to rescue me, but apparently his father also heard my scream and came to the Hadlow folly that day. He knows I’m sullied, and that is why he’s forbidden a relationship.”
Her parents looked at one another, an entire conversation passing between them without a single word being uttered. Javenia couldn’t stand the silence. Her heart pounded out of her chest as she waited for them to declare her unfit, unwanted, or unloved. She dropped her head into her hands.
Her mother’s arm slipped back around her shoulders. “Vee, you are not sullied, nor ruined, nor worthless, as I am certain you may think. Unfortunately, I am all too aware of the unwanted advancements of unbridled, selfish men.”
Javenia’s head popped up and she looked into eyes so much like her own. They shimmered with unshed tears.
“You?” she whispered.
“Your father has had to put more than one rather forward gentleman in his place when he was too deep in his cups. It is the curse of retaining one’s beauty in a world where men think they ought to get whatever they want.”
“Not every man,” Javenia said softly.
A soft look passed between her mother and father. “No, not every man.”
Her father gave her hand a pat and rose stiffly from his knee. “And it sounds like Mr. Roberts might be counted among the honorable in that regard. I am in his debt. And you say he has kept this secret for seven years? How extraordinary.”
Javenia let out slow, sad sigh. “He is extraordinary. Which is why I need to leave London.”
Papa stopped and hovered over his chair; confusion etched across his face.
Javenia straightened her posture and held her head high, Mama’s arm naturally falling away.
“I will not be dissuaded, Papa. Algenon deserves to make his own choices, not have them forced upon him by the Ton’s lust for satisfaction or my stupidity.
I asked him to meet me in the garden, and so it is my fault they caught us in such an intimate embrace.
At the time I thought it the only way to settle things between us, but now I see I hatched my plan out of desperation, not wisdom. ”
Mama’s mouth opened and closed several times as she retook her seat, but nothing came out. Her parents both stared at her in silence.
“Right now,” she said, “he needs to focus on his father’s health for however long that takes. If he truly wishes to make a match, he knows where to find me.”
Again her parents spoke to one another in well-rehearsed facial movements and glances. After a moment, her father said. “I suppose we can return early for Christmastide. We will need to make arrangements for William to return home another way, since he does not finish his term for another week.”
The door to the sitting room burst open and Cindy rushed in, Livy and Eddie following at a much more appropriate pace.
“Is it true, Vee? Was Lord Roberts really taken up for dead?”
Dryness, like a wad of cotton, filled Javenia’s mouth, her breaths coming out in short gasps. Had her recklessness killed Lord Roberts? She looked to Eddie and Livy for answers.
“It is only a rumor at the moment,” Livy said calmly. “We only know the doctor was called and all the guests sent away.”
Javenia stood on legs as shaky as a newborn foal, fear and guilt warring for precedence. If her actions had killed Lord Roberts, Algenon could possibly never forgive her.
Algenon sat by his father’s bedside for the second night in a row, the hours since his collapse a blur. The Fortescues had been gracious enough to give him and Lady Roberts rooms while the doctors decided whether or not his father should be moved.
That it had required more than one physician was a testament to the complexity of his father’s case.
At times, he regained consciousness and his speech was rather clear if a bit clipped.
However, most of the day he’d either mumbled incoherently, shook uncontrollably, or slept so deeply, Algenon worried he was no longer living.
In those quiet moments, guilt had crept in around his heart. Was all this the result of his recklessness? Had seeing him with Javenia been that much of a shock, or had his anger against his father somehow tempted fate?
Algenon adjusted his position in the uncomfortable wooden chair close to his father’s bed. With trembling fingers, he clasped the hand he’d both feared and loved. Why had his father been so hard on him? Why couldn’t he trust him to do the right thing?
A memory peppered with his own anger surfaced, only now he wondered about its significance.
“Why are you so stubborn, Roberts? After everything I have done for you, could you not be more grateful?”
He’d scoffed at his father’s claim, thinking it arrogant for him to say he’d done everything.
Yes, he’d sheltered and fed him, but that was every father’s responsibility.
However, he’d also made certain he attended the finest schools, even trusting him with the running of the estates that had been passed down the Roberts family line.
When Algenon took over the title of baron, he would be fully prepared.
Four estates—five if he counted the cottage left to him—and he knew how every one of them functioned.
He supposed he ought to be more grateful. At least he’d not struggle as Nate had when he’d taken over Havencrest.
Unbidden, another comment from the conversation came to mind. He stared at the amber-colored bedcovering, his head hung in defeat.
“I am trying to save you from yourself and you continue to run headlong into trouble, just like him!”
His father had been right. He had a tendency to run headlong into trouble, but he couldn’t be completely penitent in that regard. If he’d not run toward Javenia that day seven years ago, or any other time she or his friends had needed him, he’d never have known a life so full of love and light.
The warm fingers he clasped moved slightly, and he glanced up. His father’s eyes were open, staring unfocused at him in the dim candlelight.
“Solomon?”
Algenon scrunched his brow. Had his father become delirious?
From his time spent learning the family generations, he knew Solomon was the name of the older brother who had died on the way home from the house party where his parents had met, but not once in his life had his father mentioned his name.
“No, Father. It’s me. Algenon.”
With eyes squinted, he shook his head. “Not mine.”
“What is not yours?”
“Not mine,” he repeated, clenching Algenon’s hand tightly.
“Yes, you said that, but what is not yours?”
The half of his father’s face that still obeyed scrunched, his green eyes flashing with frustration. Several incoherent words came out of his mouth before Algenon finally understood one. Book.
“The book isn’t yours?”
A jerky shake of his head met the question. “Need book,” he slurred out.
His father had a whole library of books. Searching out a specific book could take weeks. Algenon hardly ever saw his father with any book in his hands, but maybe he’d borrowed one and forgot to return it.
“You have a book you need to return.”
A growl tore from his father’s throat and he thrashed his good leg. “Need book to me. Mine life. Now.”
Understanding dawned. His life. Ever since he could remember, his father had kept a journal. He couldn’t count the times he’d been made to wait while his father finished whatever he’d been writing.
“You want your journal.”
The fierce grip on his hand loosened and his father relaxed against the pillows. Could he even write? His whole left side had been nearly useless since this episode had struck, but perhaps his right hand would hold steady enough.
“I will have a man run to Roberts House to fetch your journal from the study.” It would have to wait until morning since most of the staff were sleeping, but hopefully the reassurance would allow his father to rest.
“All.”
Algenon leaned closer to make certain he understood him. “All what?”
“All books.”
Algenon narrowed his gaze. “You want all of your journals? But aren’t some of them back at Blackthorn?”
A short shake of the head was his only answer. Great, now Algenon would be forced to search the study and possibly his father’s bedchamber for who knew how many journals. Letting go of his father’s hand, he stood, needing to stretch his legs after sitting so long in such a fashion.
“Green book.”
The words were barely a whisper but they brought instant relief. Most of his father’s books were specially covered in brown leather. Knowing the book was green would narrow down his search considerably.
After several paces of the room, Algenon turned his attention back to his father.
His chest rose and fell in an evenness that signified sleep.
Moving close to the candle on the bedside table, Algenon removed and examined his time piece.
It was half past three. Lady Roberts usually came in to change places with him at six, but he would not blame her if she slept a bit longer.
Something was ailing her, but it was not his place to pry.
However, her arrival could not come soon enough. He desperately needed sleep, but if it would bring his father peace of mind to have his green journals, he could put off rest for a while. No use agitating him further and possibly causing more harm.
Perhaps he could even stop at Harris House to finally declare himself to Javenia. He’d not been out to hear the gossip, but he knew what would be said, and frankly he was grateful. His father would have to allow the match now, if for no other reason than to save face.
Who would have thought he’d ever be grateful to Lady Plum and Mrs. Cline for anything?