Chapter 23 #2
“Then I ought to speak to General Sinclair and ask for his approval?”
“Precisely,” Reginald replied.
He had no wish to pretend to feelings he did not possess. Marcus had been far more of a father to Claire than he himself had ever been. No one was therefore better qualified to decide whether Colonel Fitzwilliam would make her a worthy husband.
When Richard left Lord Rockwell's study, Claire was waiting anxiously outside.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“I am not entirely sure, my dear. Your father told me that I must speak to your uncle, and that the final decision rests with him.”
Seeing the disappointment in Claire's face, he hastened to add,
“When one thinks about it, it does make sense. Your uncle knows me far better than your father ever could.”
“Yes, you are right,” Claire replied quietly.
She knew her father had little interest in her, yet she had still hoped that, on an occasion such as this, he might behave differently.
Ever since she was a little girl, whenever her parents quarrelled, she had heard Lord Rockwell reproach her mother for giving birth to another man's child.
She had always tried to convince herself that those cruel words had been spoken only in anger.
Yet moments such as this filled her with doubts and made her wonder whether they might, after all, be true.
“I must leave now, my dear Claire. I know your uncle is still away on his honeymoon, so I suppose we must wait a few more days. But that matters very little. Before long, we shall be free to marry and spend the rest of our lives together.”
Richard took the hands of his almost-betrothed, kissed them tenderly, and departed.
Claire watched him go, feeling truly fortunate to have met a man like Richard. He was as honourable and kind as her uncle Marcus—the man she admired above all others, and the only father she had ever truly known.
“Claire, would you come here, please?” Reginald called.
“Yes, Father.”
Claire entered her father's study and quietly took the chair opposite him.
“I imagine Fitzwilliam has already told you about our conversation.”
Claire nodded, and he continued.
“When I married your mother, I received her dowry of twenty thousand pounds. I invested that money, and it has now grown to a little over thirty thousand. I want you to know that I intend to settle that sum upon your future husband. It will help you begin your married life.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“That is all. You may go.”
Claire could not suppress her disappointment. Her father had treated her with coldness and indifference for as long as she could remember, yet moments such as this hurt more than ever. His “blessing” felt more like business advice rather than paternal care.
Without quite realising what she was doing, she hurried out of the house and made her way to the small park a couple of streets away. She needed to be alone, far from the house where she had never truly felt loved.
As she turned a corner, she collided with a gentleman and fell heavily to the ground.
“I beg your pardon, Miss. Please forgive me,” Henry Parker said, immediately offering her his hand.
When he noticed the tears streaming down her face, his heart softened at once. The young lady reminded him so much of his sister Doris, who had died at the age of fifteen.
“I am sorry, sir. It was my fault,” Claire replied between sobs.
“Please allow me to escort you home. You are in no condition to be walking about alone. Do you live far from here, Miss?”
“No. I live just over there,” Claire answered, pointing towards Lord Rockwell's house.
Henry followed the direction of her hand, and his breath caught. More than twenty-five years earlier, he had served there as a footman. It was within those walls that he had fallen in love—and where he had lost every desire to go on living.
Who was this young lady? And could she possibly be related to the woman he hated above all others, the beautiful and heartless Lady Emma?
“This is my home, sir. Thank you for accompanying me, but I am quite well now,” Claire said to the kind gentleman who had shown her such kindness.
Henry could not help feeling moved when he heard the soft voice of the shy young lady. She lived beneath the same roof as Emma, and yet she could not have been more different.
“Think nothing of it, Miss. It was entirely my pleasure. As a matter of fact, I shall be moving into the house opposite yours next week. It seems we are to be neighbours.”
Claire smiled warmly.
“What wonderful news, sir. That house has stood empty ever since Lady Miller passed away.”
“I beg your pardon. I have quite forgotten my manners. My name is Henry Parker.”
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Parker. I am Claire Sinclair. Welcome to the neighbourhood. If you will excuse me, I ought to change my clothes.”
Claire curtsied and withdrew. As soon as the butler saw her enter the house, he realised she had met with an accident and immediately summoned her maid to assist her.
Henry stood motionless when he heard the young lady's name.
Was she Emma's daughter by Lord Rockwell?
Or perhaps Marcus's daughter by his wife?
When Henry had been forced to leave England, Marcus had only just begun his first year at Cambridge.
Henry had always liked Marcus; indeed, it had been difficult to find anyone who did not.
Yet that timid, gentle young lady was so utterly unlike Emma that it was difficult to believe they could be mother and daughter.
Henry had grown up on the Sinclair estate.
He was the son of the estate cook, who had been widowed while still a young woman and left to raise two children alone.
When Henry was twenty, and his mother died, he entered service as a footman at the Sinclairs' London residence.
It was there that Lady Emma first took notice of him.
Emma was twenty-two years old and already the mother of a little boy, who was raised almost entirely by nurses and maids. Henry was a young man, and although he was not considered particularly handsome, he was tall, broad-shouldered, and strong.
She told the inexperienced young footman a sorrowful tale of how her father had forced her to marry Reginald Sinclair and how her husband despised her.
Emma was beautiful, sophisticated, and experienced, whereas Henry had never been involved with a woman before.
To this day, he scarcely knew how he had become her lover.
His greatest misfortune, however, was that he had fallen deeply in love with her, while she had merely used him for her own amusement.
Henry loved with all the passion of youth, and Emma had thoroughly enjoyed his devotion.
Under the pretence that her little son needed the country air to recover from a severe cold, Lady Emma moved to the Sinclair estate and took Henry with her.
For six months, they carried on a passionate affair, until Emma abruptly ended it.
Henry was devastated and did everything in his power to win back the woman he loved.
By then, however, Emma had already found herself another lover—a powerful man who ensured that Henry left England and abandoned the little life he had managed to build.
Henry cast one last glance at the front of the Sinclair house before crossing the street to his new home. At last, after so many years, he had returned.
He wanted only one thing: to see Emma again and show her that he was now wealthy and powerful, and that he could destroy her life just as she had destroyed his.
◆◆◆
Eleanor and Marcus arrived home after several hours of travelling. Though somewhat tired, they were delighted to see Elizabeth and their nieces again. They arrived just in time for supper and spent the evening talking with the family.
“How was your honeymoon?” Elizabeth asked with a smile.
“It was wonderful,” Eleanor replied. “The sea was beautiful, and the weather could not have been more perfect.”
“And the house where we stayed was remarkably comfortable,” Marcus added. “It stood upon a cliff overlooking the sea. Every morning we walked along the beach, and every evening we watched the sun set over the water.”
“Oh, Aunt, I should very much like to see the sea one day,” Kitty said.
“You shall,” Eleanor replied affectionately. “When the opportunity presents itself, I promise I shall take all of you.”
“You have no idea how peaceful it was,” Marcus continued. “For a few days, we forgot everything else and simply enjoyed being together.”
“I am so happy for both of you,” Mary said sincerely. “You deserved those happy days.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Eleanor replied, squeezing her hand. “And what has happened here while we have been away?”
Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Mary and Kitty before answering.
“Mother and Lydia have come to London. They arrived the day before yesterday.”
“They are staying with Uncle Gardiner for the moment,” Jane added.
Marcus and Eleanor looked at one another before Eleanor asked quietly,
“And has everything been peaceful?”
Elizabeth could not help laughing.
“As peaceful as one might expect with Mother and Lydia in London,” said Lizzie sardonically.
Before retiring for the night, Marcus and Eleanor decided to speak privately with Elizabeth about what had happened in Kent.
She told them everything that had passed between herself and Mr Darcy, keeping only Georgiana's secret to herself.
It required all of Marcus's self-control not to challenge Mr Darcy to a duel.
“At first, I was furious because of the way Mr Darcy spoke about my family. I know that many of the things he said were true, but he had no right to speak to me in such a manner. I also said things I ought not to have said about matters I did not fully understand. The fortunate thing is that I met him again at the museum a few days ago, and he offered me a most sincere apology.”
Elizabeth wanted her aunt and uncle to understand that matters between them were now on much better terms.
“It was the very least he could do,” Marcus replied angrily.