Chapter 3 #2
“I did not know my stepfather was an earl,” she said.
“I believed him a gentleman of business, and my mother allowed me to believe that. After my mother died, I did my utmost to care for my sisters. There was no income. My mother left a few pieces of jewelry, which I sold to keep us fed and respectably clothed. We were at the limit of what I could contrive.” She bit her lip to stop herself from rambling on, then held up the letter.
“A few months ago, I found this among Mama’s papers. ”
He extended no hand. “Read it aloud.”
Darcy swallowed. His indifferent manner made it difficult for her to maintain her composure. She unfolded the paper and steadied her voice.
“Dearest Darcy,
I have not been well, and I fear I may not be with you much longer to care for you all.
My heart has carried a weight I can no longer bear.
I worry for my girls. James and I had many plans to prepare you all for the future, for we knew how unjust the world can be to those who are illegitimate.
None of you asked for this, and I should have been wiser, but I fell in love with James, and reason would not govern my heart.
James had determined to settle a dowry for each of you, including you, my dear.
How cruelly Providence may overturn the plans of man, for less than a week after telling me of his intention, James died.
I have done my utmost to press on without him, yet I am at a loss as to how to secure your futures.
The burden has lain heavy upon my heart, for I cannot bear to think of my girls exposed to indignity.
You know too well how the world deals with young women without protection, and worse, with those born out of wedlock: few doors open, fewer remain open, and the best efforts are met with cold civility and disgraceful propositions.
I fear there is little a child so marked may hope to achieve without the countenance of a good family and a gentleman’s aid.
What you and the girls do not know is that James was an earl.
Forgive us for keeping this from you. He was the Earl of Raine, and he has a son he loved deeply.
When I am gone, I hope you will be braver than I have been.
I have enclosed directions to his London house and principal seat.
Go to his son and beseech his aid in securing your futures.
Your mother.”
Darcy folded the letter along its worn crease and kept her eyes fixed on it, because looking up at the earl felt impossible. “Until this letter, I had no notion you existed, my lord.”
“Give it here,” he said.
She rose, crossed the small space, and placed the letter upon the desk.
His fingers did not touch hers. He turned the paper over and read it in silence.
The line of his mouth did not change, yet something in his eyes went distant.
After a few moments, he returned the letter.
She resumed her seat and smoothed her skirts because her hands needed an occupation.
“You say you believed the earl a man of business,” he said. “Why?”
Darcy’s heart jolted. “We saw him rarely during the Season and more often in the autumn. He would laugh that London kept him and that he loathed it. I presumed it was business that detained him. I never imagined it was another family.”
“Where did you live?”
“There was a modest but lovely house in Hertfordshire, my lord.”
“Were you given an education?”
“Yes. We were taught by governesses and, later, by a tutor.”
Those dark blue eyes moved over her face, and Darcy did her best to appear unruffled.
“What were the circumstances of your mother’s death?” he asked.
“She faded after the earl died,” Darcy said. “I think grief carried illness to her door. The physician called it a decline and said there was no cure for a broken heart.”
Lord Raine listened with grave attention that made the hairs at the nape of her neck stir. He did not interrupt, yet she felt as if every word she spoke was weighed upon a scale.
“You sold your mother’s jewelry.”
“Yes, the few my stepfather had given her over the years. I used the money I received to see our mother properly buried and to maintain us for as long as I was able.”
“What then?”
Darcy steadied her breath. The earl must understand that learning of his existence had not sent her eagerly to his door.
She had tried her utmost before swallowing her pride and packing her sisters for London.
“I tried to find respectable work that would allow me to support my sisters without separating us. There was none. I took in mending and wrote letters for those unable to write their own. A few tradesmen and merchants. It was barely enough to cover our upkeep.”
“And then you came to me.”
He spoke in a gentle voice. Yet beneath its quiet civility lay a cold indifference unmistakable to anyone who listened closely.
“Not right away, my lord,” she said, touching the edge of the letter with her fingertip.
“After I understood the truth of my mother’s relationship with the earl, I hesitated to trouble his wife and son.
I wrote to the solicitor who handled our accounts, Mr. Peabody, to ask whether any provision had been left.
He told me there was none. Only after I wrote to Mr. Peabody did he serve notice that we must vacate the cottage, as it formed part of the estate and had passed into your possession upon your inheritance, my lord.
Mr. Peabody then proposed that I accept his protection upon terms similar to those between my mother and your father.
I declined, and he gave us a fortnight to vacate the cottage.
We had nowhere to go, so I brought my sisters here to you. ”
Darcy met his gaze and waited for judgment. She had no notion what she would do if he refused them further aid.
“Tell me plainly,” he said. “What do you ask of me?”
Her heart raced, yet she spoke as steadily as she could. “I ask you to consider whether any provision was intended but left incomplete at the earl’s death. I ask you not to turn my sisters away, my lord.”
“You do not ask for yourself,” he said.
Her belly knotted with fear and hope. “I am not of your blood, my lord. I have no expectations for myself.”
He leaned back a fraction. It was a small movement, yet it felt like a wave withdrawing from the shore. She could not read what lay in his mind. He had the careful face of a man who kept his balance upon a dangerous height. Darcy could not trust someone so unreadable.
“Very well,” he said. “You will remain as my guests until I determine what is to be done.”
Relief trembled through Darcy. “Thank you, my lord.”
She rose and curtsied. Her knees felt untrustworthy, but she did not allow them to wobble. As she reached the door, he spoke again.
“Miss Whitley.”
She turned.
“You will be frank with me in all things,” he said. “I detest dishonesty. Do not allow it to mar our dealings.”
“I will be frank, my lord,” she replied. “I ask only the same in return so that I may know precisely where I stand and manage my expectations in a proper manner.”
He did not answer, merely inclined his head in dismissal.
She stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind her with care.
A sharp breath escaped her. It was not relief.
It was not quite dread. They might have one more night under the earl’s roof, or they might have a week.
Darcy also knew she could not rest their future upon the goodwill of a man who could look at them with such chilling indifference.
She could not yet trust that the existence of three sisters would move him beyond duty.
He might yet resent the scandal of their birth.
She must keep finding a way forward and not let herself believe they were saved.
Hope, indulged too soon, could make her careless, and she needed to be ready for every possibility.