The Prodigal Daughter (17 page)

Silence returned. Amanda dared not say anything. Thorne had never spoken to her this way in her life. He usually harangued her for faults and misdeeds before ordering punishment. Now he was not only asking questions, he seemed to be listening to her answers, even taking the time to absorb them.

“What about Vienna?” he said at last. “Did Wellington throw you into society so he could trade on your birth?”

“He did not know of my connections until dinner the other night. As the wife of one of his staff officers, I was invited everywhere. He had already observed my ability to fit into any crowd. And he knew that people routinely came to me for advice, often pouring their life stories into my ears. I’ve a knack for listening. So he asked if I would look for particular bits of information. I was hardly alone in that regard. Every third person at the Congress was spying, often for more than one master. It was an unusual situation..” Again she shrugged.

“Wellington made your husband sound almost acceptable.”

Amanda bristled, not only at the words, but at the sarcastic, disbelieving tone. “You needn’t stretch your principles too far. You would not have liked him. Jack was larger than life in many ways. He was very energetic, always busy doing things. If he wasn’t on duty, you would usually find him coursing hares, organizing races, or throwing his heart into some other physical activity. He frequently scrambled to help others, even peasants, often at great risk to himself. He also deplored arrogance and delighted in discomforting the pretentious. I suspect that was at the root of his estrangement from his own family. But he had no use for fools and would certainly have called you on the carpet for the life I lived before we wed.”

Thorne glared. “Enough of this nonsense. I have work to do..” Mounting his horse, he headed for the Court.

Fool!
she cursed herself as Thorne disappeared. Despite her resolution, she had insulted him. Not that the words were false. Jack had been appalled at her ignorance, her isolation, and her family’s antagonism. She had sometimes wondered what would happen when they returned to England. It would have been just like Jack to confront her father. With her new understanding of his character, the possibility was even more likely. Bored and frustrated, he would have welcomed a fight, and the marquess would have offered one. She shivered.

* * * *

She was still mulling over the meeting with her father the next morning. After a largely sleepless night spent trying to deduce what had prompted his unusual behavior – and castigating herself for driving him away – her mind was so preoccupied that she cannonaded into a gentleman as she exited the bookseller’s.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said automatically as he bent to retrieve her package.

Dark brows jutted alarmingly. “Trying to drum up a new patient, Mrs. Morrison?”

“Never, your grace!” she gasped before spotting the sparkle deep in his eyes. Heavens!  The man had a sense of humor. She lightened her tone. “Merely testing your reflexes. You failed. I trust I haven’t damaged you too badly.”

“Only my dignity. You may repair it by joining me for cakes. That shop looks inviting, but it is gauche to gobble gooey pastries alone.”

“Thank you, your grace.”

“What problem is so distressing as to make you oblivious?” he asked idly once they had been served. Scooping up a dollop of icing with one finger, he licked it off, something he had not done since childhood.

“I was reviewing a conversation. Ridiculous place to do so, I agree.”

Even his silliness had not eased the furrows in her forehead. Norwood looked at her face with its obvious signs of sleeplessness and felt an uncharacteristic urge to pry. “Is someone ill?”

She glanced up, and their gazes locked. “No, it was merely a meeting with my father..” Shock flooded her face with the words. “Forgive me, your grace. I should not be prattling on so.”

“Why not?  We will be brother and sister in a few months. Is Thorne cutting up rough again?  He looked ready to strangle you at dinner that night..” He had a sudden memory of her strained face as she admitted the lifelong estrangement with her father, and wondered if she realized how much the situation still hurt her. Probably. She had already warned him that he must choose between her and Thorne.

“No. That’s too normal to even notice..” She hardly knew what she was saying. There was something about the duke that pulled words out of her mouth before she had a chance to examine them. “I met him unexpectedly. Not only did he ask questions about Jack, he seemed to be listening to the answers. There is no explaining such odd behavior.”

“Perhaps he is trying to make up your quarrel.”

“How does one undo a lifetime of hatred?” she asked bitterly. “In the end, nothing has changed. I infuriated him, as usual.”

“I doubt it lasted long.”

“You do not understand, your grace. The unbreachable barrier will always remain. I share those traits that he abhorred in my mother, for I am undutiful, undignified, improper, and unworthy of my breeding.”

“Not everyone views those as detriments,” Norwood assured her, surprising himself with a statement that stood at odds with his own oft-stated views. “I received a letter from my grandmother yesterday in which she described your mother as loving, caring, vivacious, and possessed of a delightful sense of humor.”

“She knew her?”  Amanda’s face lit up, changing her into the same beauty who had laughed with Wellington.

“She stood godmother to your mother..” He spoke with deliberation to hide a sudden touch of very unducal indigestion.

“I never knew the duchess had any connection.”

“She is styled Lady Medford, as her husband died before inheriting.”

“Ah..” Amanda relaxed. “So Lady Medford is your grandmother.”

“Do you know her?”

“No, but my grandmother does. It is odd that she never mentioned that there was a further connection to my mother. But perhaps it was out of courtesy to Thorne’s second wife. I don’t suppose you ever met my mother.”

“Not to my knowledge. Aside from rare visits to Lady Medford, I never left home before going off to school.”

“She did not live in the dower house?”

“No. There was little attachment between her and my parents, so she chose to live in London.”

“What caused such a rift?” she murmured softly, sensing pain.

“Nothing in particular. Just different ideas – much like you and your father, I expect. My great-grandmother had died with her sixth child, so when Medford married, Grandmama assumed running the Castle, retaining that position even after her husband died. My father had already achieved the title before he married, so my mother naturally assumed control.”

“But surely Lady Medford would not object to that.”

“Of course not. But my father had long disapproved of Grandmother’s softness in dealing with tenants and servants. His wife was even less tolerant. They also disagreed on how I should be raised. Ultimately, Lady Medford decided to avoid frustration by living in town.”

That explained some of Norwood’s arrogance, decided Amanda as she followed his lead into neutral topics. His parents were just as cold and haughty as hers, but he had not rebelled. Did he regret discussing himself?  His manner had stiffened again.

* * * *

That afternoon Amanda took tea with Lady Thorne. Having disposed of the neighbors, the progress of Mrs. Miller’s newest infant, and Ben Wilson’s dive off the barn roof that broke his leg, they were discussing Wellington’s brief visit when Emily arrived. The girl had been coolly polite since Thorne’s acknowledgement of Amanda.

“How are things at the Court?” asked Lady Thorne when they finished greetings and Emily was sipping a cup of tea.

“Hectic. There are a thousand things that must be done before the ball if it is to proceed smoothly.”

“You will manage,” murmured Amanda. “Grandmama tells me you are a wizard at organization.”

Emily smiled, obviously surprised by the compliment. “Thank you, but the credit must go to Grandmama. That was never one of Mama’s strengths.”

Amanda raised her brows. She had not known that, but then she had never been included in either planning or attending Thorne’s entertainments before she left home. One of the books she had read while staying with Uncle George had been Samber’s translation of a French volume subtitled
Mother Goose’s Tales,
which contained a story about Cinderella, a girl whose stepmother barred her from her rightful place in society. Amanda had felt a certain kinship with the mistreated girl. Now that feeling had returned, but she quickly suppressed it. Her situation had never been the same, for her father had been the force behind her own ostracism. Besides, both her stepmother and her Prince Charming were now dead. Life was not a fairy tale.

They chatted half an hour about the activities Emily had planned for the house party. She was preparing to leave when the housekeeper burst into the room, so agitated that she ignored custom, propriety, and the presence of guests.

“My lady, I was never so shocked!” she exclaimed in horror. “The housemaid is in a family way!  She must be dismissed instantly..”

“Mrs. Dawkins, control yourself!” commanded an imperious Lady Thorne. “I am occupied with guests just now. We will discuss this at a more appropriate time when you have recovered your manners.”

Mrs. Dawkins reddened and retreated, mumbling an apology.

“Forgive her,” said Lady Thorne. “She is new to the position, and a Methodist to boot, so has not dealt with flighty maids before. But she is too good at her job to dismiss her.”

“She has every right to be shocked,” stated Emily. “Surely you do not condone such improper behavior!  You must get rid of the girl at once. Her influence has probably ruined your entire staff.”

“You would throw her out without even discovering the circumstances?” asked Amanda. What a stupid question. Thorne’s dutiful daughter could do nothing else.

“Of course. She should be made an example of.”

“An example of what?  There are numerous situations that could result in her condition. Few of them require censure.”

“You are being deliberately obtuse,” complained Emily.

“Hardly unexpected considering your youth and innocence,” Lady Thorne reminded her.

“I had not intended to be obtuse,” retorted Amanda. “I had forgotten that she would know nothing of the world. But since Emily is to be wed soon, she may as well learn..” She turned her attention to her sister. “Servants are routinely preyed upon by unscrupulous sprigs of the aristocracy. Despite what pious ladies decree, I have seen no evidence that they invite such advances. Indeed, after years of living with all manner of men, I have learned that the upper classes believe that servants exist solely to serve in any way their masters decree. Footmen are not much better. Many unwanted pregnancies have resulted from such ravishments.”

“You cannot believe that anyone from the house is responsible for the girl’s condition,” choked Emily.

“Not in this case, for I spoke with her this morning and know the father. But to continue your education, there are a few girls in the servant classes who lack morals. It would be simplistic to blame all situations on arrogant lords and importuning footmen. There are also many girls who are genuinely in love and succumb to a moment’s temptation when they find themselves alone with their beaux. That occurs in all classes, including the highest. When you are in charge of your own house, I would hope that you would try to discover the truth before meting out punishment. A sharp eye quickly discerns which maids invite advances.”

“Do you really expect me to lower myself by accepting the very odd ideas you picked up living among the scaff and raff on the Peninsula?” demanded Emily in amazement.

Amanda drew in a deep breath to steady her temper before replying.  “I would hope that your behavior would always reflect both Christian compassion and British fair play. But neither is possible unless you first discover the facts of a situation.”

“What is Lucy’s story?” interrupted Lady Thorne as Emily’s face twisted into fury. “And why have you not told me this earlier?”

“That was the reason for my call,” admitted Amanda. “The girl is in love with the son of one of the tenants. I do not believe he has been teasing her, but he is not in a position to marry at this time, a fact both know full well. It is unfortunate that they allowed their passions to run away with them, but I cannot see that turning Lucy off will accomplish anything beyond throwing both her and the child onto the questionable mercy of the workhouse.”

“You cannot be suggesting that she stay!” Emily burst out in surprise.

“Of course not. It would be fair neither to her nor to the other servants. A better course would be to speak to the young man and discover whether he has any prospects. His family cannot support another mouth, but there may be other options.”

“Has he not discussed it with her?” asked Lady Thorne in surprise.

“Lucy has not yet told him of her condition. She is scarcely two months along. Mrs. Dawkins probably tumbled to the truth because the girl has been suffering morning sickness. If her beau wishes to marry her, then we must contrive some way of bringing it about. They will need a place to live, and he must find some kind of job.”

“You are actually going to mollycoddle those sinners?” asked Emily.

“You are harsh,” commented Lady Thorne coolly. “Life is rarely black and white. I must learn the facts before passing judgment.”

“Discovering the facts is a useful first step to solving any problem,” agreed Amanda, looking pointedly at Emily. “But that can only occur if you keep an open mind and control these emotional outbursts. And the facts often differ from first impressions. There was a case like that on the Peninsula some years ago. Two officers were talking one night, in company with several others. I will call them Tom and Dick. Tom suddenly insulted Dick, deriding his courage, his leadership, and his honesty. Dick tried to pass the comments off as drunken fustian. But when Tom resorted to physical blows despite everyone’s attempts to draw him off, Dick challenged him.”

“Of course,” agreed Emily. “No gentleman could take such ridicule and abuse. I am amazed he showed as much reticence as he did. None of those I met in London last spring would have done so.”