Not Quite a Lady (The Dressmakers 4)

“Shall we trade fathers?” he said. “Yours thinks you perfection. Mine thinks me hopeless.”

“I should find it easier to face your father than mine,” she said. “Lord Hargate would tell me my behavior was disgraceful as well as idiotic. He would tell me how ashamed of me he was and how I ought to be ashamed of myself for all the trouble I was causing the family—and I think it would be a relief to hear that.”

“You think so now,” Mr. Carsington said. “I should like to hear what you’d have to say after spending an hour or more in the Inquisition Chamber, having your character, tastes, principles, intellect, and life’s work torn to shreds. Then he takes all the little bits remaining and scatters them to the wind with a wave of his hand.”

“It would be a relief,” she said. “But it’s no good debating which is worse. I’m only putting off the inevitable. I’m trying to be calm and sensible, but I am so frightened. Oh, and Lizzie—to betray her, after all she’s done. That may be worst of all.”

He took her hand. “It’s going to be hard, very hard. But you won’t be alone. You know I’ll be with you.”

They found Charlotte’s father and Lizzie in the library. Both looked very interested indeed when Charlotte entered with Mr. Carsington. Papa came forward, shook Mr. Carsington’s hand, then, smiling, moved to stand behind Lizzie’s chair.

Mr. Carsington closed the door.

Since no one closed doors to rooms in the public part of the house, Lizzie and Papa looked at each other knowingly. Then they looked expectantly at Charlotte and Mr. Carsington.

She could guess what they thought they knew and what they were expecting to hear. Already they probably heard wedding bells in their heads.

They could never guess what they were about to hear.

“Perhaps, after all, you’d better let me introduce the subject,” said Mr. Carsington.

“I can tell them,” Charlotte said. Her hands were shaking. She folded them tightly against her waist.

“My dear,” said Lizzie. “You are as white as a sheet. Is anything wrong? Molly told me there was some trouble about Pip. The child is not hurt, I hope? Those dreadful Tylers did not send him back to the workhouse?”

“We shall come to that subject in a moment,” said Mr. Carsington. “First, however, I wish to address Lord Lithby. Sir, Lady Charlotte and I would like your permission to be married.”

“Mr. Carsington,” Charlotte said. “I appreciate that you are trying to soften them—”

“I never softened anyone in my life,” he said. “I thought, first things first. First we make it plain why I am here. Lord Lithby, I have made no secret of my intentions. As soon as I understood my feelings for Lady Charlotte, and received indications that she returned them, I commenced the rigmarole Society requires in courtship. However, in recent days it has become plain—”

“Papa, Lizzie, I have something to tell you,” Charlotte cut in determinedly.

“Good heavens, you do look ill, my dear,” Papa said. “You had better sit down.”

“I cannot sit down, Papa,” Charlotte said. “I am not ill, only sorry, so very sorry.”

“My dear, it seems that you are engaged to wed—or near enough to it as makes no matter,” he said. “There is nothing to be sorry about. I have a high regard for the gentleman who stands beside you. I shall be sorry to lose you, naturally. Yet I am not at all uneasy about relinquishing you to his care.”

It was harder than even she had imagined, looking into his genial, loving countenance.

She dragged in air, let it out. Tried once more.

“I made a mistake, Papa,” she said. “A long time ago.” She looked at Lizzie, who had gone very still. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. You’ve done everything for me. You saved my life, and you made me strong, stronger than I’d been before. I love you dearly, and I should give anything not to cause you trouble. But I…” She paused, trying to collect her thoughts.

“My dear love,” Lizzie began.

“No, please,” Charlotte said, holding up her hand. “Let me say it.” She folded her hands again, tight against her belly. “You asked about Pip. He’s…he’s the baby we gave away. He came back and…f-found me.” She made herself look at her father then. “He’s my baby, Papa.”

There was a short, excruciating silence.

“Pip?” said Lizzie. “Oh, my love, are you quite sure? You are not imagining—”

“What is she imagining?” Papa said. “What is this about a baby? You never had a baby, Charlotte. Are you delirious?”

“I had a baby, Papa,” Charlotte said. “Ten years ago.”

She saw her father’s grip tighten on the back of her stepmother’s chair. He looked down at Lizzie, who was looking up at him. “What is she saying, Lizzie?”

Lizzie laid her hand over the one so tightly gripping the back of her chair. “Ten years ago when I took her to Yorkshire, she was pregnant,” she said gently.

“I don’t believe it,” Papa said. “I cannot believe it. You said she was ill.”

“She was,” Lizzie said. “She was so distraught that I feared she’d do herself an injury.”

“She didn’t dare to tell you, Papa,” Charlotte said.

“Didn’t dare?” he said. “Didn’t dare?”

“Please don’t blame her,” Charlotte said. “It was my fault. I couldn’t bear for you to know. I was so ashamed and—and so wretched, I should have killed myself, if not for her. Lizzie saved my life, Papa. Never forget that, please.”

“How could I forget?” he demanded. “My God, Charlotte, what do you think of me? How could you not tell me? What could you possibly fear—from me? When did I become a monster in your eyes?”

“Never,” she said. “I was ashamed. I couldn’t bear for you to know what I’d done. I could scarcely bear knowing it.”

“You didn’t have to bear it,” he said. “I’m your father. You come to me when you are in trouble, and I bear it for you. Why did you not come to me? What have I done?” He looked down at Lizzie. “She should have come to me, Lizzie. What did I do that she didn’t come to me?”

“I was sixteen years old,” Charlotte said. “You were all my world. I was…afraid when you married Lizzie, and…I did this dreadful thing. Then I realized what I’d done—and it was too late. I knew you’d forgive me. You love me so much, you will forgive everything. But I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear for you to know I wasn’t pure and—and good. I couldn’t bear for you to know I’d thrown away my innocence—for nothing, not even for love—on a worthless man. I wanted to be the wonderful daughter your love painted me to be. That’s what I’ve wanted for ten years, and it’s wrong. For ten years I’ve been thinking like a sixteen-year-old girl. For ten years I have not grown up. And for all those ten years, my little boy has been growing up without me.”

There it was, so simple: She’d given up her son for her father—the father who’d never dream of asking such a sacrifice of her.

Her heart broke then. She could feel it. Everything she’d locked up, all those wishes and longings. The stories she’d made up about her baby, and the way she’d imagined her little boy growing up. The dreams of all she might have shared with him. The fears were shut up in there, too—that he’d never had a chance to grow into a little boy. It was all locked in there, ten years’ grief she’d never let herself feel fully. Ten years’ grief, allowed only a few tears now and again, late at night, on her pillow.

The tears fell now, thick and fast, and she turned to Mr. Carsington. He drew her into his arms and held her tight. He said nothing but she could feel his heart beating, so hard. “It’s all right,” he said gently. “It’s done now.”

Morrell might have his medals, Darius thought, but Lady Charlotte had all his courage and more.

She had faced the father she adored, and only Darius, who stood so close, knew that she had been shaking from head to foot. Looking from father to daughter, Darius had ached for her, for her father. He’d prepared to step in, to support

her at any moment, but she had spoken from her heart, and his own heart wouldn’t let him diminish her words by adding to them.

She’d done her part bravely.

The rest was up to Darius, as he’d promised.

He looked over her head toward her parents. Lord Lithby stood behind his wife’s chair, his hands once more clamped upon the back, as though he would strangle it if he could. Lady Lithby’s hand lay on one of his, holding him there, Darius supposed, with that light touch.

“No one blames anybody, Charlotte,” she said. “You must stop blaming yourself. I am sorry you have kept this inside you. If I had known…” She shook her head. “But never mind my ifs. It is a terrible circumstance of nature that one might give birth to a child while a child oneself. We did what we believed was best at the time, in the circumstances. What is important now is to make matters right as best we can.”

“Make them right, yes,” Lord Lithby said. But his eyes were red and all the light seemed to have gone out of him and he looked old, suddenly, though he was a man in his prime.

“I think we’d best start by finding Pip,” Darius said. He quickly explained the situation: the boy’s disappearance, Morrell’s revelations. “Since Pip travels to and from Lithby Hall, I thought we might begin here, by asking the staff about him. Then, if necessary, perhaps you would be so good as to organize a search party, sir.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Lord Lithby said, his mind clearly elsewhere. “Whatever you like. The child. Yes, certainly. Pip, is it? The boy who exercises Daisy. I saw him once, early in the morning. I saw him from a window. That is—he is—Good God, I cannot believe this. I should have known. My daughter. My grandson.” He brought his hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes as though from a painfully bright light. “Forgive me, Charlotte, but I am…I am…I don’t know what I am. Ten years.” His countenance darkened. “It was Blaine, then, of course. Who else could it have been?”

“It was,” his daughter said.

“I thought I’d dealt with him,” Lord Lithby said. He took his hand away from his eyes. “I had him sent abroad—to a desert island, I hoped. But he’d got to you first, the bloody damned cur. And you blame yourself, Charlotte? I should never have blamed you. I knew what he was.”

“I’m sorry, Papa,” she said.

“You were young, you were young,” he said. “Ah, well.” He made a visible effort to collect himself. “Never mind. We must find the boy, as Mr. Carsington so wisely says. I shall be glad to help. But I must beg your indulgence, sir. A moment, if you please. My lady will act in my stead for the present. But I must have some air. And I think…I believe I must…kick something.” He stalked across the room to the French windows and stepped out onto the terrace and walked rapidly away, into the garden.

Charlotte started to pull away from Darius to go after her father. “Don’t,” Darius said.