Chapter 10 #2
"I see." He frowned. If she had aided Lord Harding by repaying some of his debts for him, then would that be considered generous?
Surely a gentleman would have to show evidence of being willing to change in that regard and, given what Miss Fairleigh had said of her father, that did not seem to be the case.
Seeing Lady Woodside watching him, Nathaniel reached for his teacup again and smiled lightly.
"That speaks well of her, even if she did not want others to know of her actions.
" He took a sip and then set the cup down again.
"Not every lady or gentleman is of such a fine character. "
"I believe it came from her gratitude that she had been given a great blessing even in the light of her own father's difficult circumstances," Lady Woodside said, a softness in her voice as she spoke of things long past. "Someone cared for her when her own father did not.
Without that support and consideration, she would have had no happiness to speak of. "
Nathaniel blinked away his surprise at this, having never known much of his great-aunt's past. "I know very little of her father," he admitted, hoping that his tone was light and not filled with the urgency that was now racing through his mind. "Was he very inconsiderate?"
"Oh, greatly!" Lady Woodside's eyes flared, and she shook her head, a rattling breath escaping from her.
"The man was a drunkard, by all accounts, and a wastrel with it.
My own father spoke very poorly of him. I believe that he quite ruined himself.
The shame of it has never left the family line, although Susanna was kept back from it a good deal, since she was soon married to Lord Warrington.
From what I have been told, the worst of her father's sins was only revealed to society once she was safely married. "
Heat billowed in Nathaniel's chest as he held Lady Woodside's gaze, seeing the similarities between Miss Fairleigh and his own great-aunt laid out directly for him to behold.
Was this the connection, then — or at least, the beginnings of it?
He rubbed one hand over his forehead and cleared his throat, trying to settle his thoughts into some sort of straight formation so he could think things through one step at a time. "I — I did not know any of this."
"You could speak with the family themselves, but I doubt they would want to talk of their past shame. It is too great." Her head tilted, her eyes quickly searching Nathaniel's face. "You might also wish to speak to the present Lord Atherby."
"Lord Atherby?"
The lady smiled. "Yes. His great-grandfather was the one who arranged the marriage between Susanna and Lord Warrington, you understand.
I am certain that the present Lord Atherby will know of it, for it saved Susanna from ruin and would, I am sure, have been spoken of in the family for generations. "
Nathaniel nodded slowly. "It was indeed a most considerate, gentlemanly act.
One that the family could be proud of." His eyes returned to Lady Woodside, seeing how her soft smile lingered, a smile that spoke of days long past and so many happy memories made.
"I must thank you for your candor, Lady Woodside. It has been very helpful."
"I am glad to have been of use," she said, as Nathaniel rose to his feet. "Might I ask if there is any particular reason you wished to speak to me on this matter?"
Not wanting to be entirely truthful, Nathaniel lifted his shoulders. "I suppose that, given all that has happened, I want to understand Lady Warrington's generosity and her thinking behind what she has done. This helps me to see her a little more clearly."
"Then I am all the more delighted," came the reply. "Thank you, Ashcombe. I wish you well."
The carriage swayed as it turned from Lady Woodside's street into the broader thoroughfare. Nathaniel sat with his back against the squabs, his hat on the seat beside him, his hands in his lap. He was not looking at the passing houses. He was looking at nothing.
The connection was not mysterious anymore.
It was almost obvious, and its obviousness made him ashamed that it had taken him this long to see it.
Lady Warrington had looked at Miss Fairleigh and had seen herself — the same uncertain girl with the same failing father, the same closing doors.
And she had done for Eliza what Lord Atherby's great-grandfather had done for her: she had reached across the distance and offered a way out.
He thought of Miss Fairleigh at the solicitor's office — her white face, her rounded eyes, her hands gripping her reticule.
Then at the bookshop — her small folded list of names, her precise correction about proximity.
Then at the park — her chin lifting as she told him she knew her father's reputation was deserved.
Each time, she had been the one under scrutiny.
Each time, he had been among those doing the scrutinizing — or standing close enough to those doing it that the distinction was, perhaps, not as meaningful as he had told himself.
His right thumb found his left palm and pressed. He held the pressure for a moment, then released it. The habit did not comfort him as it once had.
The carriage jolted slightly as the wheels found a rut, and he steadied himself against the seat.
Lord Atherby. He turned the name over in his mind, trying to set a face to it, and found he could not.
He did not think they had ever met — not once, that he could recall — and it was a curious thing, that so much should now rest with a man who was a stranger to him.
He sat back, his mind already forming the question he would put to Lord Atherby when the moment came. There was one more piece to find, and he knew now where to look for it. Whatever it cost him, he would see Miss Fairleigh's name cleared — and he would tell her so at the first opportunity.