Chapter 13 #2
“If you will excuse us, we are going to continue with our walk now.” Sophie put a hand on Christina’s arm and smiled warmly at the gentlemen, bringing a quick end to their heated discussion.
“Until this evening.” She bobbed a curtsy, as did Christina although her gaze quickly returned to Lord Coventry.
The quirk of his lips made her want to giggle, but she managed to maintain her calm outward expression as she too took her leave, having no desire to bring any further upset to either Lord Pennington or Lord Granton.
Fighting the desire to look back at Lord Coventry over her shoulder, she slipped a hand through her sister’s arm and let out a small, soft sigh.
“Goodness, Christina!” her sister exclaimed, the moment they were out of the gentlemen’s hearing.
“You have not only Lord Coventry eager for your interest but also Lord Pennington and Lord Granton. If Lord Coventry had not asked for your waltz, I believe that Lord Pennington would have done so. Lord Granton’s disagreement with Lord Coventry’s action was also quite startling; he seemed most displeased. ”
Christina smiled but dismissed her sister’s remarks without too much concern.
“There is only one gentleman that interests me, as well you know.” Her smile slipped.
“By showing me such interest, however, he is making his consideration of me known to the ton, and that was not meant to be our intention, not as yet. It was to be slow and careful and – ”
“It is slow and careful,” her sister interrupted, gently.
“Yes, the ton might note that he has danced the waltz with you for a second time, but it is not as if you are courting – not as yet. Allow yourself to be glad in this, Christina. It seems that, even with all your difficulties and sorrows, you are slowly moving back towards Lord Coventry and he to you. Is that not what you want?”
Her heart cried out at once, fully aware that yes, this was exactly what she wanted, but all the same, fear restrained her joy.
The strangeness of the footman’s disappearance from the house, the worry about who had sent those letters in the first place, and the concern about what could happen to them now all filled her mind, darkening her thoughts.
“It is what I want, yes,” she admitted, quietly.
“But part of me is still afraid that we will be separated once again – and this time, it shall be forever.”
The knock came not from the front entrance but from the servants' door at the rear of the house, well after dark.
Thompson appeared in the drawing room with an expression that was equal parts disapproval and alarm. "My lady, there is a young man at the kitchen entrance who is asking — rather urgently — for you specifically. He says his name is George."
Christina rose to her feet so quickly she knocked her teacup from its saucer. "Bring him up at once, Thompson. Through the servants' stair, if you please — and do not mention his arrival to anyone else in the household."
The butler's eyebrows rose, but he did not question her. Some minutes later, George was ushered into the small back parlor, and Christina's composure nearly broke at the sight of him.
He was thinner than before. His coat was damp from rain, and he clutched a small sheaf of papers to his chest as if they were the only things of value in the world. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his hands would not stop trembling.
"George." Christina gestured to a chair. "Sit down. I will have tea brought."
"No — no, miss, please, don't trouble yourself.
I only came because — " He swallowed hard.
"He found me. Lord Pennington. He came to the lodging house this afternoon, and I barely got out.
He was asking for me by name, miss, and I — I had nowhere else.
" His voice cracked. "I'm sorry. For all of it. I'm so sorry."
"Tell me," Christina said, gently. "Tell me everything."
And he did. Haltingly, in broken sentences that sometimes trailed into silence, George told her how Lord Pennington — though George had not known the name at the time — had approached him at a pub frequented by servants, had offered him thirty pounds to leave Lord Coventry's household and take a position with Lord Bedford.
"It were — it were in my hand, miss. Thirty pounds. I'd been at cards and I'd lost more than I should have, and he sat down beside me like he were a friend I already knew, and he said — he said he knew of my troubles." George's shoulders hunched. "And I took it. I took it, miss."
His duties after that had been to report on Christina's movements — who she spoke with, where she went, and who called upon the house. And on one morning, he had been given a sealed letter to deliver to Miss Oldham.
"The letter I received," Christina breathed. "The one I believed was from Lord Coventry."
George nodded miserably. "I don't know what it said. It was sealed when he gave it to me. But you cried, miss. I heard you through the door and I — " His voice broke. "I knew then that something was very wrong."
Christina sat very still, absorbing the weight of his confession. The room was quiet, save for the ticking of the clock and George's unsteady breathing.
"You did the right thing coming here," she said at last. "You will stay tonight.
I will have a room prepared in the servants' quarters.
Tomorrow, we will arrange for you to go to Lord Kinsley's household in the country.
" She paused, then added: "George, I need you to write all of this down.
Everything you have told me — the dates, the payments, the instructions.
Write it in your own hand and sign it. Can you do that? "
The young man's chin trembled. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Go with Thompson now. You are safe here."
When George had been led away, Christina sat down heavily.
His story confirmed everything she and Lord Coventry had suspected.
The evidence, once George wrote it down, would be here — Pennington's instructions described clearly, the payments documented, the forgery of the letters acknowledged.
It was not irrefutable in a court of law, but it was enough to convince anyone of reasonable mind.
Her first instinct was to send word to Lord Coventry at once. She rang for her writing desk and began composing a note — but then she paused, her pen hovering over the paper.
If she sent word tonight, Isaac would come immediately. He would want to act — to confront Pennington, to use this evidence. She knew him well enough now to predict the fire that would blaze in his grey eyes, the set of his jaw, the barely contained fury that Pennington's cruelty kindled in him.
And that was precisely what she feared. George was here, under her roof, trembling and exhausted.
If Isaac confronted Pennington tomorrow — before George was safely away, before they had planned their approach — Pennington would know George had talked.
The frightened young man who had risked everything would pay the price.
Christina set down her pen.
She would tell Isaac about the testimony. Of course she would. But not tonight. Tonight, her duty was to the man she had promised to protect. Tomorrow, once George was safely on his way to the country, she would share everything.
It was the right decision. She was sure of it.
She closed her writing desk, extinguished the candles, and went to bed. She did not sleep well, but she slept better than George, whose muffled footsteps she could hear pacing the floor above her for most of the night.