The Secret Heart, page 11
There is hope for them.
Sir George’s gaze shifted to her. “Yet more beauty,” he observed. “May I have the honor of escorting you both downstairs to the very last of the sunshine?”
“Of course, you may,” Millie said. “Just as soon as my hair is pinned. What do you think, Lily?”
Lily went further into the room and duly admired Prince’s handiwork.
Satisfied, Millie stood. “Then let’s go down.”
A knock sounded at the half-open door, and a young lady’s head appeared around it. “May we join you?”
“Ella!” Millie all but squealed, flying across the room to embrace the laughing newcomer. Behind them loomed a slightly apologetic gentleman who made a vague shrugging gesture toward Sir George.
Sir George laughed and went to meet him, offering his hand.
Ella, Lily thought. This must be the younger sister of Torbridge and Millie.
“Why did you not tell me you were coming?” Millie demanded, releasing the lady to some degree and looking her over.
“I wanted to surprise you. Is Dolph here, too?”
“Yes, but I don’t know where he’s lodged. Oh!” She paused, realizing Ella’s attention had landed on Lily. “Of course, this is Lily Darrow, our cousin from Ireland.”
Ella blinked. Lily curtseyed, which the lady did not acknowledge before saying bluntly, “No, she isn’t, Millie. You’ve been taken in.”
The blood drained from Lily’s face, making her dizzy. Sir George closed the bedchamber door.
Ella glared at Lily. “I don’t know what she’s up to, but we have no cousin named Lily.”
“Well, of course, we don’t,” Millie agreed, somewhat taking the wind out of her sister’s sails. “She isn’t really our cousin, but we have to pretend she is. For Dolph.”
“Oh.” Ella’s face cleared as if matters were now perfectly acceptable.
“Being made homeless, she came to England to see what Papa could do for her,” Millie explained. “But since he’s so ill, she’s come to me as my companion, and been extremely helpful, I have to say. But where are my manners? Lily, this is my sister, Arabella, Lady Barham, and her husband, Lord Barham.”
Lord Barham bowed, looking somewhat bemused. Lady Barham inclined her head, the clear suspicion in her face now replaced by curiosity.
“Oh, and if she decides to leave me and be married, Dolph may give her a decent dowry.”
Ella’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“No,” Lily said. “It’s just part of the lie. I couldn’t marry any of his lordship’s friends—or yours—if I wanted to.”
“Why not?” Lord Barham asked curiously.
“Because I’m the daughter of an innkeeper.”
Ella blinked. “Really? I’ve never seen one remotely like you before.”
Unsure whether or not to take that as a compliment, Lily said only, “If you would be so good as to keep to this fiction…”
“Of course,” Ella said at once.
“You, too, Barham,” Sir George added as the sisters moved toward the door. “It’s important to Torbridge.”
Barham nodded.
Millie let out an exclamation. “But your babies! What have you done with them?”
“Eaten them,” Ella said promptly.
“Seriously!” Millie commanded.
“We brought them, of course,” Ella said, “with their nurse. Lady Pennington has been most accommodating. They’re asleep just now—finally! But you must come and meet them before dinner, perhaps?”
Tea had been laid out on the terrace, where the sun still shone. The ladies wore shawls over their elegant gowns and sat nibbling dainty pieces of bread and butter, scones, and cakes. The gentlemen mostly stood in clumps or sauntered between the tables. Tea was served in fine china cups. Just for a moment, Lily panicked. This was not her world. She should be serving tea to those people in her parents’ inn, not joining them.
But she had done this before, she reminded herself. Really, it was just like Millie’s “at home”, only with more people.
“Good God,” a familiar voice exclaimed.
Ahead of Lily, Ella let out a cry and launched herself at her brother, quite without proper decorum, as he pointed out once he had hugged her back.
“A little more propriety here, if you please, Lady Barham,” he said with a severity that might or might not have been in fun. “I have to say, you’re looking extremely well for someone who has brought two more babies into the world.”
“Oh, that was months ago! And you’re looking pretty well yourself.”
“Why, thank you.” He turned to his brother-in-law, holding out his hand. “How are you, Barham?”
There was something endearingly natural in the affection of the siblings. Children who had not only survived but thrived in a home with no obvious parental love. To Lily, brought up by affectionate parents who doted on her, this was a miracle and due largely, according to Millie, to the eldest, Lord Torbridge. Not that anyone would guess, for after the first, surprised hug, he drew back to a greater distance, mostly scolding in a vague kind of way that did not appear to hurt Ella but made her sigh.
Of course, the relationship between Torbridge and his sisters was not her concern. So, when she saw the sad-eyed Mrs. Bradwell, she drifted over to greet her.
“Mrs. Bradwell. How pleasant to see you here,” she murmured.
The lady glanced up, and immediate warmth suffused her eyes. “Miss Darrow. Please, join us. I gather this is your first stay at Pennington Place?”
It was the usual dull small talk, involving everyone at the table, but more than once, she caught the lady’s gaze fixed on her face with an expression of almost frightened curiosity. And when the sun dipped just a little too far for comfort, and everyone began to make their way into the house, she asked Lily about her parents.
Keeping to the story, Lily replied, “Sadly, they are both deceased.” For some reason, she found it particularly uncomfortable to lie to this lady. She hoped any awkwardness in her manner would be put down to grief.
“But you had a happy childhood, I hope?”
“Oh, yes,” Lily said with relief at something she could answer honestly.
“I imagine they were very good to you.”
It was an odd thing to say, but then she did appear to be a slightly odd lady. For some reason, Lily found this intriguing. “Very,” she agreed.
“And were you really born in Ireland?”
Lily laughed. “I don’t recall it, but I believe so!” By the grand staircase, she saw Torbridge gazing about him. She wondered if he was looking for her. Crushing her sudden surge of longing, she turned back to Mrs. Bradwell, realizing she had said something else. “I beg your pardon?”
“I was saying, I am still fascinated by the little pendant you wore at Lady Masterton’s musical evening.” Mrs. Bradwell gave a small, apologetic little smile. “I wonder if I might buy it from you?”
Involuntarily, Lily’s hand flew to her throat, even though the necklace wasn’t there. “Oh, no, I’m afraid I couldn’t do that. It has been with me all of my life. I am too attached to it.”
“Ah, of course. Perhaps I can have one made just like it.”
“Good luck,” Lily said. “Will you excuse me?” She hurried away toward the stairs, but by the time she got there, she could no longer see Torbridge.
“Cousin Lily!” It was Ella, beckoning to her from halfway up the first flight of stairs. Beyond her, she could see Millie and Torbridge’s back.
She hurried up after them, to learn they were on their way to meet the Barham offspring. It was, of course, excellent cover to be included, but Lily couldn’t help feeling guilty for intruding on yet another private family moment. Not for the first time, she recognized how trusting Torbridge’s family were of her, how far they were willing to let her into their lives. Even knowing her true background. His word, his needs, clearly carried a lot of weight with them.
The Barhams had a suite of interconnecting rooms, one of which had been set up as a nursery with two large cots and a truckle bed for the nurse. Inside the first cot, an infant of perhaps two years sat up, grinning and reaching up her arms to be lifted out. In the other, lay two small babies who could only have been three or four months old.
“Well, well, tiny Barhams,” Torbridge said softly.
Ella plucked the older child from her cot. “This is your uncle Torbridge, Jenny. He is quite mad but mostly lovable.”
“I remember you when you were that size,” Torbridge said, pointing at the other cot.
Jenny pointed, too, “Roberta. Randolph.”
Torbridge glanced at Ella. “You shouldn’t have.”
“You are his godfather.”
“No, really, you shouldn’t have. It’s a terrible name.” He joined Millie in gazing down at the still sleeping babies. “But they are beautiful children for all that. Does one say, well done at such times? Probably not, but I am amazed.”
Millie seemed to be amazed, too. Her eyes, full of wonder and love, filled with emotion, sparkling with some devastating sadness.
Ella laid her hand on her sister’s shoulder, and Millie gasped, turning it into a laugh. “Why, you are so very clever, Ella.” She beamed at Jenny. “I can’t wait until you all grow up so that I may spoil you silly. I am determined to be your favorite aunt. Excuse me…”
To Lily’s surprise, she drifted out of the room in her usual haze of perfumed silk and lace. Ella made a move to follow her, but Sir George stayed her. “She’ll be fine. She already loves them to distraction.”
Lily solemnly shook hands with Jenny and then discovered that the gentlemen were repaired to the sitting room to indulge in the strange tradition of “wetting the baby’s head.”
“Imbibing brandy,” Ella translated dryly. “No doubt, a glass for each.”
“Then I’ll leave you until dinner and see if Cousin Millie needs me.”
However, there was no answer at Millie’s door. Lily hesitated, unwilling to barge in if she wanted to be alone. Deciding to wait, she went into her own chamber and discovered Millie sitting on her bed.
“Oh! I’m sorry.” Lily closed the door and hurried forward. “I didn’t realize you wanted me so quickly.”
“I don’t,” Millie said in surprise. For an instant, she looked confused, then laughed. “Well, if I do, I don’t know for what. You are a surprising comfort to me, Lily.”
“I’m sorry you need comfort,” Lily said, walking to the bed and sitting down. She waited a moment, then said, “You would like a baby of your own.”
Millie nodded, and the tears started to her eyes again. “I had a baby once,” she whispered. “A tiny, perfect son. He lived less than an hour. I barely held him in my arms.”
“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.” Lily hugged her. She had seen the pain of a lost child too often before. It was a tragedy that did not limit itself to class or lessen with the awful frequency.
Millie clutched her. “I am glad for Ella, I truly am, but when I stare at those tiny babies, I remember my own.”
“Of course you do.”
“I will love them as if they are my own.”
“I know you will.”
For a few moments, Lily let her weep. Then Millie drew back a little and wiped her eyes on a wispy handkerchief. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. And you know, you are still young. You could still have babies.”
“Not when my husband will not—” She broke off. “Oh, dear. I should not speak so to an unmarried lady.”
“I’m not a lady,” Lily reminded her. “Sir George loves you.”
“He did once.”
Lily frowned. “Then why should you imagine him changed?”
“Because I could not give him his son. Because he does not come near me.”
So, the separate rooms truly were separate. Which was odd, because Lily knew they loved each other. “Did your doctors advise against having more children?”
Millie shook her head. “No. But it’s true I almost died, too. And George was wonderful in those first months, even though he was grieving terribly. But the weeks turned into months, and he did not come to me. I could not persuade him, and believe me in those days, I was not too proud to try.”
“And then you pretended not to care, and so did he in retaliation, and you drifted apart.”
“For eight years. Lily, I long so for a baby… For him.”
“You still have child-bearing years,” Lily pointed out.
“What use are they?” she retorted, swiping at her eyes again. “Dash it, Lily. Why do I talk to you so? You have been in my household for barely two weeks!”
“It is easier sometimes to speak to a stranger.”
“That’s the odd thing. I don’t feel you are a stranger at all.”
“You are a kind family. You know what I am, and you have taken me in, confided in me.”
“I don’t think it’s us,” Millie said vaguely. “I think it’s you.” She rose to her feet. “Thank you for letting me cry on your shoulder. I shall be fine now and quite able to make a fuss of Ella’s adorable children. You should wear the new evening gown. And I’ll send Prince to dress your hair.”
Lily watched her go while plans swirled in her head. She wished they were at the Hart.
Chapter Eleven
Dinner that evening was the most magnificent affair Lily had ever seen. She had never even imagined so many people around one table, served by an army of footmen. Despite her secret—and in part, cowardly—wish to be placed beside Lord Torbridge, she found herself sitting next to Mr. Jack Hill. Which at least focused her mind on the task in hand.
“It is good of the Foreign Office to spare you this week,” she observed.
“Oh, I take leave of absence every year at this time.”
“Is it a quiet time?”
“Not really. But I bring work with me if I have to. It’s easy enough to communicate with London from here, too.”
“Then I hope work will not spoil your leave.”
“So do I,” Mr. Hill said fervently. He grinned engagingly. “I shall not let it, not while you are here.”
With a bewildering array of courses, cutlery, and wine glasses to negotiate, Lily had to keep her wits about her, but in the end, she felt she got through the meal without committing any major crimes against etiquette and retired to the drawing room with the ladies.
However, her relief was short-lived, for as she sat near her “cousins”, old Lady Pennington deigned to notice her. “Miss Darrow, I trust you are comfortable at the Place?”
“Extremely, ma’am. The house and grounds are splendid.”
“Aren’t they?” she said complacently. “My husband and my son have both done a great deal to restore the fading grandeur.”
Lily had no idea how much the upkeep of such a residence would cost, but she was sure it must be staggering. No wonder Lord Pennington couldn’t be bothered with his brother’s debts. However, before she could dwell on this, a new threat reared its head.
“I hear you sing,” Lady Pennington said. “I look forward to hearing you once the gentlemen join us.”
Lily opened her mouth to protest in some alarm, but Millie’s elbow dug into her ribs, and she subsided with a nervous smile.
“I’ll play for you,” Millie breathed. “Just sing as you did in Brook Street.”
“Is it normal for ladies’ companions to be asked to sing?” Lily asked.
“No. But it’s not normal for them to be pursued by the hostess’s son either.”
“Oh, dear…” Guilt surged once more, and she had to remind herself that Jack Hill was a traitor. However, she still had difficulty imagining him as such.
Any hope she might have harbored that Lady Pennington would forget her in the distraction of several other wealthier girls of higher rank was doomed. Certainly, she was not the first to show off her accomplishments, but just when she began to relax, she received the summons.
This was a very different prospect to singing for three people in Brook Street. Here she was among crowds disposed to jealousy or at least accusations of encroaching behavior from a mere poor relation. But, apparently, she could not refuse.
Well, to the devil with them all, I am Lady Lily, she told herself and raised her head to sing.
Surprisingly, her first ballad went down very well, and she was asked to sing again. Lily looked hastily to Millie for advice.
Millie nodded. “Oh, the amusing one you sang the other evening,” she suggested.
Obligingly, Lily repeated that, too, and hoped to God that was the end of it. To her relief, Millie stood up while everyone else was still clapping and laughing. As she passed Torbridge, he glanced up with a quick smile, and she read approval in his eyes.
She sat down much more happy to listen to the next young lady.
As the evening wore on, it grew a little chilly for those who, like Lily, sat furthest away from the fire. Millie actually shivered.
“Shall I fetch your shawl?” Lily murmured.
“Would you?”
“Of course.” Apart from making Millie more comfortable, it would look as if she was a useful companion.
“I left it on the bed. If it isn’t there, get Prince to find you one.”
Lily walked quickly to the door. Her heartbeat quickened when she saw Lord Torbridge standing in her path.
He smiled when he saw her and stepped aside. “I’ll find you later,” he murmured beneath his breath.
There was no time even to ask where or when, for he had already turned back to his friends, and Lily had no reason to linger. But it did strike her with some excitement that he might follow her or look out for her return.
The main staircase was extravagantly lit, but she took one of the waiting candles to guide her way along the winding passages to Millie’s chamber. When she reached the correct passage, her heart lurched, for she thought Lord Torbridge was walking toward her.
Disappointingly, it wasn’t him, but a gentleman in a well-fitting plain, black suit. He was tall and handsome, and he bowed to Lily as she passed. But he did not speak.
