Chapter 25 #2
He had tried to give her and Cecily time to rest and recover from their ordeal. But he could not deny that he missed sitting with them in the nursery, just like he had before their harrowing incident. Before I forced them out, he thought with roiling guilt.
He did not know if Honora blamed him, though he certainly blamed himself. But he had decided that until Honora was ready to speak with him, it might be best to give her space, despite his longing to be near her and Cecily.
Leopold was still standing there when Wilfred appeared.
“Your Grace.”
Leopold turned.
“Her Grace wishes to speak with you.”
He knew at once what it was about, and his anger flared again. “Take me to her.”
He followed Wilfred to the drawing room. His mother was seated near the fire, with a long piece of paper laying on a table in front of her. As he drew closer, he saw that it was a birth record. The birth record for Celestine…
Leopold stopped. He looked at the document, then at her.
“You have been reading it.”
“I have.” His mother’s voice was quieter than usual, and her eyes were red, as if she had been crying.
He crossed the room and took the chair opposite her. For a moment, neither spoke.
“What do you intend to do?” she asked at last.
Leopold looked down at the birth record. “What you should have done sooner.” Her eyes lifted. “I intend to acknowledge Celestine publicly.”
She did not move. “What you do next will affect this family forever.”
“Cecily is family,” he said sharply. “And I intend to name her as such.” He continued without hesitation, “And I intend to publish the truth.”
Her gaze dropped to the document again. “The questions will come back to me.”
“Yes.”
“And your father.”
“So they will.”
She took a slow breath. “Everything we tried to keep buried will be dragged into the open.”
Leopold looked at her. “It should be.”
She raised her eyes. “You are certain?”
“No,” he said, surprising her. He leaned back and held her gaze. “I am not certain it will be easy, that people will understand, or what they will say about you or Father or Celestine.”
She looked down.
“But I am certain that pretending she never existed was wrong.”
His mother’s fingers moved against the edge of the birth record. “She was well loved and cared for.”
Leopold continued. “She was my sister. Your daughter. She deserved to have been acknowledged.”
A long silence followed. “She did,” she said, so softly that Leopold almost did not hear her.
“And she did not deserve to be cast away from her true family,” he said, his anger dampening the restraint he had been carefully maintaining.
The mother nodded slowly, her eyes damp and wistful. Leopold could not recall ever seeing his mother so subdued.
“I know,” she whispered, her lips trembling once.
Leopold watched his mother for what felt like an age. The admission seemed to cost her something. At last, she nodded. “Publish it.”
It was Leopold’s turn to be surprised.
“You are not fighting me on this?”
She looked at him again, a bit of her former no-nonsense expression returning. “If the questions come back to me, I will answer them.”
Leopold nodded once. That was all. He had expected more of an argument.
In truth, there was far more he had wanted to say to her.
Perhaps he would someday. But right then, he would take a little comfort in knowing that the truth would soon be known.
Cecily would be legitimized in society, and the sister he never met would be known for who she truly was.
***
That evening, Sabina arrived at Belgrave with Barnaby, holding a letter in one gloved hand.
“You are fortunate that I have friends in important places, Leopold,” she said, looking rather satisfied with herself.
Leopold raised his eyebrows. “Now is hardly a time for bragging,” he began, but Sabina gestured with the letter for him to be silent.
“This is not idle bragging,” she said. “Barnaby told me about the situation with Isolde. I decided to go speak with my good friend, Benjamin, who helps edit the stories and columns that get published. I did not expect to learn much more than a budding rumor, but I was delighted when I was mistaken. You do not need to thank me.”
Barnaby grinned at her. Leopold studied the letter she waved as she spoke.
“What have you done now?” Leopold asked, raising an eyebrow at the pair.
Sabina looked up. “Nothing.”
He raised a brow.
“Nothing deliberately.”
Barnaby folded his arms. “That is reassuring.”
Sabina ignored him. “I have something for you.” She handed the letter to Leopold.
He read the first lines and recognized Isolde’s hand. “She sent this to The Morning Post.”
“Yes.”
Leopold’s jaw tightened. “She has wasted no time.”
Barnaby shook his head. “I told you she would not.”
Sabina nodded toward the paper. “She has written her version already. I thought you ought to see it before tomorrow.”
Leopold unfolded it fully. The letter was exactly what he expected, even claiming Honora as Cecily’s mother. Despite the lack of surprise, Leopold’s anger rose rapidly and untempered.
Sabina’s mouth tightened as she watched him read.
“She has enough truth in there to make people believe the rest.”
Leopold folded the letter.
“I have written letters of my own,” he said.
Sabina frowned.
“That is good,” she said. “But it will hardly be enough. Not with the way gossip spreads in London.” She paused, a smile slowly replacing her scowl.
“And that is exactly why I have already written to three families in the county who know the Bellamy family. I have asked them all to confirm that Miss Bellamy is who she says she is, as well as her relation to little Cecily.”
Leopold stared at her dumbly. “You did this already? In such a short time?”
“The instant I saw this.”
Barnaby smiled. “You move quickly.”
“So does Isolde.” Sabina looked at Leopold again. “She will not be the only woman allowed to write a story about the biggest gossip in London this month.”
Leopold nodded slowly. “Thank you.”
Sabina waved the gratitude away. “She helped herself to the advantage of being believed. I am simply helping remove it.”
Barnaby was still looking at her. Leopold noticed that he had not looked away since she started speaking.
Sabina glanced at him. “You are staring.”
“I am listening.”
“To me breathing just now?”
Barnaby shrugged. “I have been accused of worse.”
“You have been accused of better, too.”
It was her turn to smile, and Leopold noticed a faint flush on her cheeks. With a cheerful wave, she opened the door and left.
Leopold watched her go with a small smile.
Sabina had long been a dear friend. But he had not expected even her to act so quickly to help him.
After a moment, he looked at Barnaby with a question that died on his lips when he noticed Barnaby staring at the empty doorway with a dreamy smile on his face.
“You did not look away,” Leopold said.
Barnaby’s expression was perfectly innocent. “From what?”
“A single move Sabina made.”
Barnaby’s cheeks pinkened as Sabina’s had. “You need a rest. Or a drink.”
Leopold shook his head. “You know perfectly well what I am talking about. I am not going to argue the obvious with you.”
“You started it.”
“I regret it already.”
***
The first edition of The Morning Post arrived the following morning, carried in with the rest of the post and set on the breakfast table as though it were an ordinary day.
Both versions had run. They sat one above the other on the same page, so close that people could take in the whole of it without turning their heads.
There was the tale of a duke acknowledging his late father’s hidden daughter.
Beneath it was the story of a woman who had entered that same duke’s household under a false name.
Both were true, but only one of them was the whole truth.
And he prayed that with his words and Sabina’s rallying, they could prove which one that was.