Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

“And of course there’ll be champagne.”

“Champagne?” Aunt Minerva’s eyes narrowed. “For breakfast?”

“There’s bound to be,” Antoinette said, cheerfully. “It’s a christening.”

“Lady Umbrage is mighty anxious you’ll say yes.” Bertram slapped his thighs. “And I promised I’d not let her down. What do you say, Aunt Minerva?”

Thea was watching proceedings with interest. She had no idea why Bertram and Antoinette was so anxious for their aunt’s cooperation, though she guessed they were concocting some plan.

Suddenly Aunt Minerva smiled. “Oh, well, I’m sure the child will be dead before long so what does it matter if I have such a namesake?” She looked as if this were happily to her satisfaction causing Thea to stare at her open-mouthed while anger made the back of her neck prickle.

“Well, I’m not going,” she muttered.

Antoinette looked aghast. “But…but you have to,” she cried.

“Surely I’m not required?” Thea didn’t care what Bertram and Antoientte’s plan might be. The thought of those darling babies being used for the pleasure and vanity of people like Aunt Minerva, who didn’t care tuppence if they lived or died, was too terrible to countenance.

“Of course you are!”

“Why?”

“So…so that you…”

Antoinete looked helplessly at her brother, who supplied smoothly, “So you can ensure Aunt Minerva’s dress isn’t soiled by the puling little creature she’ll be holding in her arms as it’s christened.”

“Holding in my arms?” cried Aunt Minerva with evident distaste. “Will I have to hold it for very long?” She shuddered. “Someone else’s …byblow? I can tell you, my dear Thea, that you most certainly will be attending with me.’

There was no use arguing but Thea didn’t at all like the prospect of having to gaze upon those poor, destitute children. Her heart would break, she knew it.

Stony faced, she listened to the arrangements made regarding time and transport and was trailing up the stairs to her room when she turned to find Antoinette at her heels.

“You must wear something charming tomorrow,” her cousin whispered hastily. “What about the jonquil pelisse over your white muslin? That’ll set off your hair nicely and it’s very…alluringly innocent.”

Thea stared at her over her shoulder. The pleasure of Antoinette’s visit had palled. “What does it matter what I wear?” She gave a gusty sigh. “It’s not as if anyone will be looking at me and besides, I don’t want to go.” A lineup of unwanted children would be like a cruel reminder that she herself was doomed to die childless and—she nearly choked on the thought—a spinster assisting her aunt increasingly into old age.

“But Aunt Minerva wants you to go and that’s all that counts.”

“Why, thank you for reminding me.”

Antoinette touched her arm to detain her. “You’ll be doing those babies a great

service.” Her tone was wheedling. “Besides, think how nice it would be if you at least provided one tender heart during the whole charade. Afterwards you could cuddle them to your heart’s content.”

This stopped her in her tracks and she turned abruptly at the top of the staircase as a great lump rose up in her throat. What Antoinette said was absolutely true.

Antoinette, arriving at the top of the stairs, blinked as if suddenly realising her cousin’s distress. “Whatever is the matter?” she asked. “Oh! Thea darling, you really do care, don’t you?”

“Yes, I really do,” Thea whispered. “I passed the Foundling Hospital the day after it opened and I saw…” She closed her eyes as she gripped the newel post. “Near the road, some distance from the hospital, there’s a basket where unwanted babies can be placed without anyone knowing. There were two mothers fighting over who would put their baby in it.” The memory came back to her in all its awfulness and had to grip the bannister even more tightly to stop herself from swaying.

“But…they’re just babies,” Antoinette said, frowning as if she were trying to establish the real source of Thea’s tender heartedness. “They just feed and cry. I’m sure they aren’t…well, aware of anything else going on around them. They’d not miss their mothers for they’d never have known them.”

Thea couldn’t believe her cousin. “But you have a child who sleeps and feeds and cries. Surely you have feelings of tenderness for him?”

Antoinette appeared about to dismiss this, but suddenly she smiled. “You know, Thea, I never thought I’d grow so fond of young George. After all, his father—” She stopped abruptly and changed tangent. “I could have sworn the little mite called me mama this morning and my heart quite melted.”

“I wish I could see him more but you’re always out and about and never want to take me up to the nursery.” Thea sniffed. “I do love babies and, it breaks my heart to think I’ll never have one of my own.”

Antoinette looked affronted, stepping up beside her cousin to put her hand on her shoulder. “What do you think I’ve been working day and night to achieve, Thea? You will find yourself a husband worthy of you. Certainly Fanny and Bertram and I fully intend that to happen. We like you too much to see you lose your looks and to moulder away as Aunt Minerva’s handmaiden.” She bit her lip and looked worried. “That’s why time is of the essence. In a couple of years you’ll be well and truly an old maid. As for babies, don’t you worry about the ones you can’t help and the ones you want, or my little George. He wants for nothing.” She put her head on one side. “You’re not suggesting I’m at fault for not being as maternal as you think I should be, are you?”