Heirs of Acadia - 02 - The Innocent Libertine (11 page)

Tyler Brock sniffed his opinion.

Abigail decided she had had enough. She said to Nora, “You might as well go ahead and tell me the bad news.”

Her friend’s hands could not alight anywhere for long. “What—what do you mean?”

“Here, I shall make it easy for you.” She waited until Horace shut the door upon his departure. “Your parents have informed you that I shall not be your bridesmaid.”

“How did you know?”

It had been clear as day at the church. How everyone looked at her, or avoided looking. Abigail could not have said which had been worse. But Nora’s mother had looked. Oh my, yes. A scathing glance that burned long after the woman had turned away. “It’s all right, Nora. I understand perfectly.”

“I tried and tried. But they won’t budge.”

“You can hardly expect otherwise,” Tyler Brock offered. “After all—”

But Abigail had no interest in hearing the man’s opinion of her actions. Her own condemnation was harsh enough. Abigail rose and drew her friend with her. “I wish you only happiness, Nora.”

“Oh, Abigail.”

She endured Nora’s embrace as long as she was able without breaking down. She then turned to Tyler and found the strength to remain steady, simply by looking at his smirk. “Good-bye, Mr. Brock.”

“Miss Abigail.” His mocking bow felt like a slap in the face, and Abigail took an involuntary step back.

Nora cried, “Oh, do at least promise you shall be there with me on our wedding day!”

She could not lie, not about this, not to her dear friend. So Abigail embraced her once more and said simply, “Be happy. For us both.”

Chapter 10

Once the Aldridges were seated in Lillian’s formal parlor, Samuel Aldridge told her, “I knew your late husband, the count.”

“Did you, now? I don’t recall his ever mentioning this.”

“No, he wouldn’t have. One of his partners approached me in regard to a venture he was entering.” Samuel Aldridge nodded his thanks to the maid as she handed him a cup of tea. “One to be based in Lisbon.”

“I see.” Thoughtfully she stirred her tea with the little silver spoon. Samuel Aldridge was a powerfully built man. There was no sign of the dissipated living so fashionable in London these days. Stocky and stalwart, his muttonchops were flecked with gray. His chin was as determined as his gaze. This was not a man who did anything lightly. Surely he would know of just how that Portugal venture had ended in disaster.

“They invited me to the Carlton Club and hosted a most pleasant meal. The only thanks I gave was to warn them not to become involved. I fear I upset them considerably.”

“If only he and his partner had shown the wisdom to heed your words, Mr. Aldridge.”

“I understand it wiped out Lord Houghton’s partner entirely.”

“Indeed.” She nodded her understanding. The message was finally received. Samuel Aldridge intended to address the day’s difficult issues with honesty.

At least, they would be honest. And she, how would she respond?

Lillian studied her guests over the rim of her porcelain cup. They both bore the pale shadows of great strain. Neither had slept well for quite some time, of that Lillian was certain. Lavinia might as well have been wearing black, her face was so creased with a mourner’s lines. Samuel was scarce in better form, hunched over his cup, his eyes encircled by plum-colored stains.

“It was this very same venture which caused my husband’s demise,” Lillian said quietly.

Samuel Aldridge looked up. “I did not know, Lady Houghton.”

“How could you.”

“Forgive me for bringing up the matter.”

“I understand why you did so.”

“There was no ulterior motive, madam, of that I assure you.”

“You wished to begin our first conversation together with my knowledge of the only other contact you have had with my family. You wished to be utterly open with me.” Lillian took a sip from her cup. “You have come because you would like to speak of some grave matter. Something so vital there could be no hint of subterfuge between us.”

Lavinia and her husband exchanged glances. Samuel replied, “Just so, madam.”

“Where, might I ask, is your daughter?”

Irritation flickered across Samuel Aldridge’s features. “Who can say where my daughter has elected to while away her hours?”

Lavinia spoke for the first time. A soft whisper, the sigh of a bereaved mother. “Abigail is at home in her room.”

Samuel glanced at his wife, but addressed Lillian with, “I cannot begin to thank you for all you have done for my wife, my daughter, and my good name.” He dropped his eyes to his cup and added quietly, “What is left of it.”

“None of that,” Lillian said sharply enough to lift his gaze. “We both know the broadsheets that have slandered you have never cared for any of your ilk. Those who admire you will think no less of you for the lies they have printed.”

“They are using this matter to slander the entire Dissenter movement!” he protested.

“Then they are desperate indeed. As you have no doubt been hearing from others who know your true worth, sir. As you would be saying yourself were it someone else’s daughter who had become so enmeshed in this.”

“But it is not someone else’s daughter,” he retorted.

“Indeed not.”

“For this reason, I find myself in your debt, my lady. If there is anything I might ever do to aid you, please, I beg you—”

“Do not speak thus, sir. It demeans us both.”

“Ma’am?”

Lillian set her cup aside, rose, and walked to the window. Outside was a lovely display of summer sunlight, a wondrous clear day, though rather chilly for late July. The utterly blue sky was teased by hundreds of white ribbons rising from the city’s chimneys. The townhouses across the street were of the same dressed white stone as her own, stalwart monuments to wealth and power. She studied the empty windows across from her and fleetingly wondered what lies they held, what desperation.

“My husband was no friend of the new royal court,” Lillian said to the window. “His allegiances were too closely tied to the old king. When the Portuguese venture failed, these same broadsheets which slander you took vast delight in proclaiming to the world just what a failure my late husband was. What a fool, they jested. The headlines went on day after day, week after week. It was not the financial ruin alone which demolished Grantlyn’s health. Added to that was the shame.” The sunlight was hot upon her skin, but not nearly as searing as the memories. “I was shunned. For over a year I did not set foot outside my own home. The next time I saw any of my friends was at my husband’s funeral.”

“Ma’am, I can only say how sorry—”

“
That
is true shame, sir.
This
is nothing. A week, perhaps two, and another scandal will shove this one aside. A month more, and people will again recognize you for the fine man you no doubt are.” Lillian turned back to the room and gazed directly at Samuel. “And your daughter as the fine woman she is.”

Lavinia met her eyes now, sheer gratitude flush upon her features.

“Is that what you wished to speak with me about?” Lillian asked Samuel.

“No.” Samuel Aldridge set his own cup aside. “No ma’am, it is not. My wife urged me to come and seek your advice. She said your wisdom meant more than your aid on that night, and now I see what she meant.”

“Lavinia is most kind, sir.”

“We are faced with a conundrum, my lady. One which confounds us utterly. I do not see what you can do to help us. But I also have no idea where else . . .”

Lillian walked back over and settled herself into the chair. She composed herself to wait as long as was required.

Samuel Aldridge reached to the side table and retrieved the little silver teaspoon, in order to give his fingers something to do. “Are you familiar with William Wilberforce?”

“The name only. I have never had occasion to meet the gentleman.”

“He is a wonderful man,” Lavinia said softly.

“He is indeed,” agreed her husband. “A good and wise counselor, and a friend. We have been involved with Mr. Wilberforce for years, and I can honestly say, ma’am, it has never been my honor to meet a finer man.”

“I should wish to meet him for myself.”

“Something we can gladly arrange.” Samuel Aldridge twirled the spoon such that it reflected the sunlight in scattered prisms about the room. “William, our dear friend, well, ma’am, that is . . .”

Lavinia finished for her husband, “He has urged us to send Abigail to America.”

“I do not understand—” “America,” Samuel intoned.

“Her life here is intolerable,” Lavinia said.

“Only because she has made it such herself,” Samuel retorted, the annoyance creasing his features once more.

Lavinia winced slightly but continued, “The church is furious with her.”

“Again, only because of Abigail’s own actions. And rightly so, I might add.” When Lavinia did not respond, Samuel asked Lillian, “Forgive me for speaking of such a personal issue, my lady. My wife tells me you are not a believer.”

“That is correct.”

“Then it is scarcely possible for you to fathom the importance the church plays in our life.”

“All of Abigail’s friends are of the church community,” Lavinia added. “Most have been ordered by their parents to have nothing whatsoever to do with her.”

“She is more than alone,” Samuel said, pain creasing his voice as it did his wife’s face. “She is distraught.”

“Abigail will not leave the house,” Lavinia said, suddenly close to tears. “She will not speak. She scarcely eats enough to keep body and soul together.”

“How can this be?” Lillian’s gaze swept from one parent to the other. “All because of one minor misstep?”

“You consider this, this
scandal
to be something
minor
?”

“Forgive me, sir. But yes, I do.”

Samuel Aldridge’s mouth worked, but no sound came out.

“This, sir, is
nothing
. You daughter struck me as a beautiful, vibrant, intelligent young lady. Of course, she has made a grievous error. But how can she believe she has ruined her life?”

“This, effectively, is what dear William has told us as well,” Lavinia offered, watching her husband as she spoke. “He feels that everyone has reacted too strongly. He suggests that Abigail be granted a respite, I believe was the word he used. From us, from the church community, and from this city.”

“I cannot leave now,” Samuel said, speaking directly to his wife. “You have heard something of the problems we face on the Continent,” he added, turning to Lillian. “It will take months to resolve these, longer still to arrange my affairs here such that I could return to America.”

“William did not suggest,” Lavinia replied, “that we accompany her.”

“You would do this?” he asked his wife. “You would let your daughter go?”

“She needs this, Samuel. You are the observant one. You are the wise leader. Surely you must see this for yourself.”

“What I see is that my daughter has placed her life in peril and damaged our family’s good name, not to mention the causes we hold dearest!”

“Yes, all this is true. No one is denying this. Not me, and certainly not your daughter. But did you not hear what William told us? We must look
beyond
this.”

“You were not so certain of all this when we met with William.”

“The idea came as a great shock. Of course I don’t want to let my daughter travel halfway around the world without us.”

Lavinia wiped her eyes impatiently. “But I also know she cannot stay. You heard her speak. She yearns for adventure. What possibly could we—”

“She is a child! How is she to know what she wants?”

“You are wrong there, husband. I am sorry, but it is true. Abigail is an adult.”

“How can you say that? She refuses to even
consider
taking a husband!”

“That is far from the only measure of a woman’s maturity,” Lavinia reminded him quietly.

Both of them must have become aware of Lillian observing them. Samuel Aldridge collected himself. “Please forgive us, madam. Here we have come to thank you and seek your wisdom, but all we do is return to the same discussion—” “I shall accompany her.”

Her guests froze with shock.

“I shall go with her to America,” Lillian said. “It is the perfect resolution to this matter. Does she have anyone with whom she might live?”

“B-both our families, y-yes. They would be most happy to receive her.”

“She adores her grandmother,” Lavinia added, new hope in her voice. “My parents live in Georgetown, the port city adjacent to our capital.”

Samuel reluctantly allowed, “William Wilberforce has suggested that she go and work with Gareth and Erica Powers. They live just half a mile from my wife’s parents and have been longtime friends.”

Hearing the name spoken so soon after the banker’s departure rocked Lillian hard. “The Powers, did you say?”

“You know them?”

It was Lillian’s turn to stumble over her words. “Th-the name only. P-Powers is a famous pamphleteer, is he not?”

“Indeed. And a valued ally in our struggle against the evils of slavery.” The words seemed to emerge of their own accord. “My dear Lady Houghton, how could you possibly consider leaving all this and going to America on our behalf?”

How?
How indeed was she ever to be anything but completely honest with these fine people? Lillian looked from one to the other, as moved by their evident love for each other and their daughter as she had ever been moved by anything. “I assure you, Mr. Aldridge, I would not be doing this solely for your daughter. I need to make this journey. Desperately.”

“Need?”

“The Portugal venture came far closer to wiping us out than anyone knows.” There. It was said. The secret she had sought to hold back for so long. The first of many.

“Forgive me, ma’am. I did not know.”

“Of course not. How could you possibly? But the fact remains. I am perched upon a knife’s edge. At any moment I could be encased in ruin and woe.” A thought occurred to her. “There is something you could do for me, as a matter of fact.”

“Anything.”

The blank offer, so boldly stated, left her desperately tempted to tell him everything. For an instant she was very jealous of Lavinia Aldridge. To be married to a good strong man, a man with a head for business, a man who loved her and their child more than his own life. What would this mean?