26. Chapter 26
Kitty clung to William’s arm. She was not sure she was ready for this. Would it hurt all over again to discover that Mrs Barrington had been telling the truth that her father had been conceived out of wedlock?
A man greeted them as they entered the building. “Lord Droxford, I believe,” he said with a bow.
“Have we met?” asked William, removing his hat and dipping his head in acknowledgement.
“No—but I am familiar with your sisters and parents, and the family likeness is pronounced. My name is Barnes, and I’m the curate here at St Mary’s.
A friend of mine, Mr Rowson, works for the Duchess and informed me some weeks ago of your father’s elevation to the peerage and more recently, that you were in the vicinity.
Would you be so kind as to introduce me to your companion? ”
William brought her forward, and she dipped into a curtsey. “Miss Lacey.”
“What can I do for you? Are you wanting to have the banns read?”
Heat shot into Kitty’s cheeks at the man’s assumption, and she didn’t know where to look.
“Ah, my apologies. I have assumed wrongly. Let’s start again. How may I help you?”
“I wish we were employed on such a pleasant task, but alas, we only need to examine the records. Miss Lacey has recently come to live on Portland and understands that her father was born here, in Weymouth. We would like to see his baptismal record, if you please.”
Mr Barnes led them into a small room with a table and several chairs and bid them be seated while he fetched the church register.
He returned with a substantial book, which he laid down in front of them. “This should be the one we need. Baptisms on the left, and burials on the right. What year was he baptised?”
That was a good question. “I’m not certain. I was born in 1790, so let’s start in 1770 and work backward.”
“What was your father called?”
Another excellent question. “I know this sounds ridiculous, but I’m not sure. Not Lacey. At least, I don’t think so. That was my grandmother’s maiden name. I…um…was persuaded to adopt it recently when I was informed my grandfather was not, in fact, my papa’s sire.”
“I see. Your father was a child of an earlier marriage,” said Mr Barnes.
“I hope so. I’ve been told my grandmother was carrying another man’s baby when she met my grandfather. She claimed to be a widow, but his family believed otherwise.”
“Married or not, do you know what name she used if it wasn’t Lacey?”
Kitty’s shoulders sagged. “No.” Mrs Barrington could have told her, but she’d been so taken aback with the woman’s revelations she hadn’t thought to ask.
“Oh dear. I fear we’re wasting your time.
The only thing I have to go on is their Christian names.
My father was Edward, like my brother, and his mother was called Catherine. ”
“Don’t despair. We may yet find what you’re looking for,” said Mr Barnes, unperturbed by her lack of information.
“Perhaps we’re starting in the wrong place.
What do you know about your grandmother’s second marriage?
If your father was baptised around the same time, there’s a good chance that wedding occurred here too. ”
William’s face lit up. “I believe you have something there. Please fetch the marriage register, Mr Barnes.”
The curate retrieved another substantial book and, pushing aside the baptisms and burials record, he laid the second volume in front of them.
“What was your grandfather called?” he asked.
“Bruce—Walter Bruce.”
“Excellent. It will be far easier to find if we know what name we’re looking for,” Mr Barnes said with a twinkle in his eye. “Let’s start in 1770 and work backward, as you suggested for the baptismal records.”
He found the relevant year, and Kitty ran her finger over each entry. No one named Bruce was mentioned. At the shake of her head, the curate turned back to the previous page, and she read through the details of another eight marriages with no success.
After searching through seven years’ worth of records without finding what she was looking for, she was losing hope. Was the only way for her to discover the truth about her father’s birth to return to Mrs Barrington’s house and ask her the name of the man her grandmother claimed to have married?
Kitty let out an involuntary shudder. It wasn’t worth it. She refused to put herself through that again. She would have to live with not knowing.
“I’m sorry to have occupied your time with such a fruitless search, Mr Barnes. The marriage must have taken place elsewhere.”
“Giving up so easily? Come on,” William said, beseeching her with a disarming pout. “Let’s try a few more years.”
Kitty wondered if she would ever be able to say no to that look. “If you insist, but we stop at 1760. We can’t tarry here much longer.”
He nodded, and the curate flipped over the page again.
And there it was. Staring up at them. She read the words aloud: “Walter Bruce, gentleman and bachelor, of this parish, and Catherine Hampton, widow, of this parish, were married in this church by licence this tenth day of October in the year one thousand, seven hundred and sixty-two.”
“See. It was worth carrying on, wasn’t it?” said William. “Now, we just need to find Edward Hampton’s baptism.”
They switched over the volumes and turned to the baptismal records for 1762. The dates were listed on the left-hand side, and Kitty located the month of October, near the bottom of the page, where there was an entry for Edward Hampton, dated just nine days before her grandfather’s wedding.
“Oct 1: Edward son of the late Lord Edward Hampton and of Catherine, his widow.”
Lord Edward Hampton? Her father really was the son of a nobleman. But could her grandmother have been married to a lord? It seemed most unlikely. Which left only one alternative. There had been no wedding.
She glanced up at William and caught him raking his fingers through his hair. His face had turned pale. He must have reached the same conclusion. Mrs Barrington had been telling the truth.
“Thank you for your help, Mr Barnes. It has confirmed what I feared—that the marriage was a ruse and my father was illegitimate.”
“Don’t be so hasty to think the worst,” the curate said. “There might yet be evidence of their union. Let’s check the register.”
They examined the records for the five years before her father’s birth. Not a single mention of Hampton. “As I suspected. No marriage.”
“It doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” said Mr Barnes. “The ceremony could have taken place earlier or elsewhere.”
“Or not at all. If they’d been married, surely his family would have cared for my grandmother after his death and brought up my father—but they did not. She wed Mr Bruce to hide her shame and provide for her baby.”
The curate tipped his head to one side. “But if that were the case, why not marry him before your father was born?”
“I’ve already thought about that. It can’t have been because he wanted my grandmother, but not her child, because he brought my papa up and gave him his name. I was known as Kitty Bruce until I came to Weymouth. I believe it was because she wished to appear more respectable than she was.”
“There is another possibility.”
Her ears perked up. “Yes?”
“I remember my father saying the old Duke was nothing like the current one. Very high in the instep. If he disapproved of his son’s marriage, he might have removed your papa from his mother’s care to be brought up in the ducal household.
Marrying Mr Bruce may have been the only way for your grandmother to keep her baby. ”
Kitty’s heart beat faster. “Do you believe that’s possible? I know little of the ways of the aristocracy, except that they are far above the likes of me.”
The curate raised his eyebrows at William, who ducked his head in response. Kitty narrowed her gaze. What was that about?
“It is a possibility, but only a slim one, I’m afraid,” said Mr Barnes.
“I don’t wish to raise your hopes too high.
Only Lord Edward’s family can tell you if he married against his parents’ wishes.
” His eyes flicked to the man beside her and then back to her face.
“I am sure you’ll be able to discover that, if you so desire. ”
Kitty dipped into a curtsey. “Thank you, Mr Barnes. You’ve been most helpful. Good day.”
“It has been a pleasure. I hope our paths will cross in the future. May God help you find what you’re looking for.”
An intense look passed between the two gentlemen as they exchanged bows. Kitty wondered if they were going to start talking again, but they merely took their leave of one another. Was she missing something?
It seemed so. While they walked to Mrs Jenkin’s house, William maintained a flow of chatter about the town, his family—anything other than what had happened in the church.
He’d been so adamant they should look at the records, knowing what they might find, yet now he refused to talk about it. What wasn’t he telling her?
The words kept pouring from William’s mouth, giving Kitty no chance to ask the question he knew was on her lips.
Her arm grew stiff on his, but he didn’t stop talking until they reached Mrs Jenkin’s door.
He couldn’t. Because he did not know how to tell her what Mr Barnes had known.
That Lord Edward Hampton was the Duke of Wessex’s younger brother.
If Kitty’s father was his illegitimate offspring, that would not sit well with his grandmother.
Mrs Jenkin was remarkably composed when they told her the news about her son and agreed to return with them as soon as she had gathered a few things to make him more comfortable. Leaving Kitty with her, William leapt at the opportunity to pay a visit to his sisters. He desperately needed counsel.
“Morning, Rowson,” he said as the door of his grandmother’s house swung open before him. “Are any of my family about?”
“Yes, your lordship. Lady Henrietta is in the drawing room, and Lady Charlotte is in the music room with Mr Warren.”
That was no surprise. “Excellent. No need to announce me.”