“You’ll see in a moment, sir.” His face was shining and eager. “Elly, is it possible that the man you regard as your father may indeed not be your father?”
“No. Of course he is my father.” Her eyes were wide and her breathing erratic.
Rory pleaded, “Elly, please, this may be your salvation.”
“‘Salvation’? Do you call being illegitimate, ‘salvation’?”
“Please, just try to think. What could your father have meant by those words?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to know.”
Jeremy nodded slowly. “This is good. The tabloids will devour it. How can one discover such things?”
“It is not difficult, if one can access the General Register of birth records. At any event, we need to buy time.”
Elly concentrated, biting her lower lip. “If I knew my Aunt Elisa’s address in Germany, I could write her a letter.” She paced, thinking. “She would write back… then… No. That’s no good. Father needs to think that I am in Germany.” She stopped short. “I need to write my father a letter, have that letter taken to Germany, and posted back to England.”
Rory continued her thought. “It doesn’t need to be Germany. Anywhere out of the country will do.”
Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “And how do you propose to accomplish that?”
Rory shrugged. “You know half of London, sir. Some acquaintance of yours must regularly cross the channel.”
“I don’t know half of London, actually, but Katie does.” Jeremy took a moment, sighed wearily, and shook his head. “Go and ask her to come here.” Rory sped toward the door. “…in ten minutes. I need ten minutes alone with Miss Fielding.”
Rory stopped dead. He and Elly exchanged worried glances. “Of course, sir. I’ll ask Miss Stewart to come… in ten minutes. Shall I explain the matter, or would you rather…?”
“I would rather.”
“Yes sir.” Rory gave Elly a reassuring smile and left.
When the door was closed, Jeremy put out my hand. “Show me the note.”
Elly gasped. “I’m sorry sir, but it is of a very personal nature.”
“At this moment, Miss - Elisa - Roundtree, you do not have the right to any personal…”
Before he could finish she handed it to him. He studied the heavy art paper. “He calls you ‘Elly’?”
She nodded stiffly. “Yes, sir. You and he are the only ones who ever have.”
Jeremy found that strangely amusing. He unfolded the paper and admired the magnificent artwork. As he read the words, sadness came over him. His guess had been correct. The poor girl had been abused by her father, her betrothed, and her school-master. Of course she was afraid of men. When he gave her back the note, she folded it very gently, and carefully tucked it into her purse. That tender treatment proved she was still in love.
Jeremy spoke quietly. “It seems that you and Robert Dennison have a history. How long have you known each other?”
“Forever, sir. Four months.”
He tried not to laugh. “I suppose four months seems like forever when you are seventeen. What are your feelings for him?”
She hesitated. “I honestly don’t know, sir. I thought I loved him… then I hated him… now, this very sweet note…”
“It is, indeed, a very sweet note. How long ago was this, ‘last evening’ he mentioned?”
She shuddered with humiliation. “The night before my audition. Last Thursday.”
“Just four days ago?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good God!” He leapt from his chair. She could be pregnant. He should have listened to Eric and sent her home. Calming himself, breathing deeply, he remembered her beauty, and why he was going to all this trouble. She stared up with startling green eyes. Men would throw themselves at her feet. If she was not pregnant yet, she could be tomorrow. Why were women so stupid? How did they learn to protect themselves? From their mothers? This girl had no mother. Most women knew nothing. Even Katie got caught. Perhaps she could talk to Elly… No, he wouldn’t ask her… Yes, he would. She would love it.
The door opened and Katherine edged her face through the crack. She had a mischievous glint in her eye. “I seemed to have missed all the fun. First Eric thunders out of here in a rage, then Eddy sneaks out. Michael runs away as if escaping torture, and now Rory tells me about these remarkable letters.” She walked in and Rory followed, red in the face.
“I’m sorry sir. I told her that you wanted to explain everything, but she…”
Jeremy glared at him, and Katherine chuckled. “It’s my fault, Jerry. I wheedled it out of him.” Elly stared up with hopeful eyes. Katherine sent her a reassuring wink, then looked back at Jeremy. “So, we need to get a letter posted from Europe.”
Jeremy posed, leaning back on a table, crossing his arms and legs. “Yes, Missy-Know-All, we do.”
She laughed then thought for a moment. “The only one I can think of quickly is Ned Hereford. I had lunch with Isabelle this week. She told me he’s in Paris.”
Jeremy put his hands over his face. “God save me from modern witches. Oh yes, I am sure the good Lady Richfield will be delighted to be involved.”
Katherine ignored his clowning. “She’ll love it. The season’s only half over and she’s already bored silly.”
Jeremy snorted. “You know I cannot abide that woman.”
“You adore Isabelle. She is one of the few women who doesn’t genuflect when you pass.”
“And what about her good brother? Will Ned play along with our masquerade?”
“He loves actors and a good romance. He personally financed your production of Cupid’s Messenger, remember?”
“That was hardly the same thing.”
“Well, I can’t imagine him finding fault, and I can’t think of anyone else at short notice. Everyone is back home for Christmas.”
“Where the devil is Simon Camden?”
“New York, I think.” She glanced out a window. “It’s starting to rain. Let’s continue this at the flat. I’ll send one of the boys with a note and ask Isabelle to come as quickly as she can. Agreed?”
Jeremy sighed heavily. “Oh, very well.” He fluttered a hand. “Entreat the good Lady’s assistance.”
Rory stood up. “I’ll take the note, if that’s all right.”
Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds.”
Elly cringed as Katherine wrote a few words on a calling card and handed it to Rory. “Here’s the address. If she’s at home, try to persuade her to come. If not, leave the card and come back to us.”
Jeremy handed Rory the two letters. “If you can, explain the situation and ask her to read these.”
“Yes sir. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He started for the door.
“Wait!” Jeremy handed him some money. “Take a cab.” Grateful, but slightly embarrassed, Rory thanked him and was gone. Jeremy started from the snug, then turned back. “Miss Fielding, while I get the coats, be so kind as to show Miss Stewart the note.” Her eyes widened and she looked mortified. Jeremy sent Katherine a look that this was important, and left the women alone.
Chapter 8
Katherine, Elly, Evan, and Jeremy ran from a cab, through freezing drizzle, into their building’s grand foyer. When they reached Katherine’s fifth floor flat, all four were shivering and eager to get inside. A welcoming fire raged in the hearth. Katherine invited Elly into the drawing room. “Come in, dear. Warm yourself.”
“Thank you, Miss Stewart. Your flat is beautiful.” She breathed in the cheery glow of soft gaslights and the crackling fire. A dark-blue velvet sofa with matching easy chairs sat facing the fireplace. The walls were Wedgwood-blue and the ceiling a creamy-white. A large portrait of four-year-old Evan hung on one wall, and across the room, a landscape of the Scottish highlands. Christmas garlands dangled gaily over a polished brass chandelier, matching brass wall sconces, doorways, and hearth. A small fir tree, decorated with candles and shiny paper orn
aments, stood in the corner.
Katherine’s maid came from the kitchen. “Will y’ be wantin’ anything, Miss Stewart?”
“Yes please, Clara. We ate at the pub, but I’m hoping Lady Richfield will be coming.”
Clara smiled. “She always likes m’ cucumber sandwiches. Says I slice ‘em thinnest in London, and I’ve got nice baby tarts. Promised Master Evan if ‘e did well on ‘is Latin…” Smiling happily, she trotted back to the kitchen.
Jeremy scowled, took Katherine’s hand, pulled her into her bedroom, and shut the door. “You read the note?”
Yawning wearily, she sat down on the bed. “My goodness, this was a hard week, and yes, I read the note.”
“What are we going to do?”
“About what?”
“The girl may be with child and probably doesn’t even know it.”
She yawned. “Oh, that.” Exhausted, her eyes closed.
“Yes that!”
She forced her eyes to open. “Well, what can one do until one knows? We won’t for a month.”
He glared at her. “I bloody well know how it works, but I doubt that she does.”
Katherine met his glare. “Since you’re the bloody great teacher, go and teach her.”
“What is the matter with you women? Can’t you teach your daughters anything?”
She laughed at the incongruity. “Don’t look at me, she’s not mine to educate.”
“Who, then? I don’t see any other women volunteering.”
“Mother of God! I’m a great example for a young girl.” She closed her eyes.
“You are.”
She waved her hands, as if to erase his words.
“You’re a veritable vestal virgin compared to Isabelle. She’s a pillar of society who’s lured half the men in London into her bed.”
“She’s only typical of her class. Actually, she is not typical. Her children were all fathered by her husband.”
The doorbell chimed. Jeremy’s eyes bulged in exasperation as his hand flew to his chest. “Oh! Be still my heart.”
Katherine glared. “Behave yourself. She’s doing us a favor, if she’s come at all.” She forced herself from the comfort of her bed, took hold of his belt buckle, and pulled him from the room. “Do come along.”
In a flurry of fur, feathers, and silk, Isabelle, Lady Richfield, cascaded through the foyer. “Kathy you angel, how marvelous of you to invite me into your adventure.” She hugged Katherine, and presented Jeremy with the back of her hand. “Jerry, darling. How charming to see you.”
He looked into her strikingly beautiful face, clicked his heels, bowed from the waist, and held her hand to his lips. She gurgled with delight. “Oh Kathy, how lucky you are to have such a man for your companion. I almost said, ‘consort,’ what a silly I am.” She giggled and he glared at her insolence.
Katherine shot him a warning glance, as Rory sneaked into the room and stood against the wall. Evan ran into Isabelle’s arms. She leaned down, squeezing him affectionately. “I left in such a flurry, I haven’t a single treat for you tonight. And this must be Miss Fielding.”
Elly lowered her eyes, took Isabelle’s gloved hand, and curtsied. “How-do-you-do, Lady Richfield. You are very kind to have come.”
Isabelle’s eyebrow arched slightly, and Jeremy knew she was impressed by Elly’s manners. “Not at all.” Still holding Elly’s hand, Isabelle studied the girl’s pale face. “You look familiar. Have we met?”
Elly smiled shyly. “You are very kind to think so, Lady Richfield, but I only arrived in London three days ago. Before that, I was never out of Yorkshire.”
“Ah, well, the last time I was in Yorkshire was… I’ve no idea.” Smiling cordially, she let go of Elly’s hand. “You have quite a champion in Mr. Cook,” she looked around, “wherever he is.” Rory hurried into her sightline and stared. Isabelle’s bright cheeks and sensuous lips were framed by glossy chestnut hair. A beautifully styled dark turquoise frock showed off her full breasts, tiny waist, and shapely swaying hips. Her electric-blue eyes flashed and Rory blushed.
Jerry smiled to himself. Whatever Rory felt for Elly, just now, he only had eyes for Isabelle.
Katherine gestured to the dining room. “Isabelle, will you take tea?”
“Yes, thank you.”
They moved to the dining room table, and Rory held Isabelle’s chair. She smiled serenely, brushed against him, and took her seat. He looked weak-in-the-knees.
Katherine poured the tea, while Clara passed trays of food.
Evan’s mouth quickly smeared with raspberry jam. “My cough is all better, Auntie Isabelle. The medicine you gave me tasted like these tarts. It was very good.”
She nodded, “Capital! We can’t have an actor with a bad throat, now can we?”
Jeremy helped himself to one of Evan’s tarts. “Isabelle, you are brilliant with herbs. I don’t know how you create everything from antiseptics to hair-tonic.”
Isabelle chuckled, set down her teacup, and stared at Elly. “Oh, my!” Everyone was shocked into silence. “Jerry, you remember the painting you copied last summer, at the castle?”
“The Scott Lauder?”
Evan chirped, “Daddy put it behind the wardrobe, with his other paintings. You told me it’s a picture of your mother and her twin sister, when they were young.”
Jeremy followed Isabelle’s gaze toward Elly. “There is a resemblance. Is that why she looks familiar to you?”
“I looked at that painting every day, growing up. She could have posed for it. Miss Fielding, I read the letters from your art-master. He referred to you by a different name.”
“‘Elisa,’ ma’am. My mother was German. She named me after her sister. My mother’s name was Bertha, but I don’t know her maiden name. I know nothing of my German family.”
“How much do you know about your English family?”
“I only have my father, ma’am, and his unmarried sister, my Aunt Lillian. They had an elder brother Charles, but he died before I was born. There is no one else.”
“I wonder.” She stayed looking at Elly. “Evan dear, could you fetch that painting?”
“Of course.” He hurried downstairs to Jeremy’s flat.
Smiling kindly, Isabelle tilted her head. “So, Miss Fielding, have you written your letter?”
“Not yet.”
“Then, since you are not eating, please go and do it.”
Jeremy thought for a moment. “Katie, do you have any plain writing paper?”
She shook her head. “All of mine is monogrammed, but Evan has some that’s plain.”
He stood up. “Right. I know where it is. Miss Fielding, follow me, please.” He led Elly into Evan’s room, found the stationery, pen, and ink. He pulled out the child-sized chair at the low school table and she sat down. He sat in the tutor’s chair.
She thought for a moment, then began to write.
Dear Father,
When this letter reaches you, I shall be far away. I am not going to Uncle Otto and Aunt Elisa, because you could find me there and I do not wish to be found. Please give my love to Aunt Lillian and the servants. Tell them that I am well and that I miss them.
Jeremy nodded. “Your father needs to know what you are living on.”
She shrugged sadly. “The same as I am living on here: charity.”
A smile flashed across his face. “Score one for you. Although he may not believe it, you can add that no one at school aided your escape.”
“Oh, right! Poor Robert.” She bit her lip, then added,
They must be very cross with me at school, after all the extra lessons to catch me up. I can never finish now. It was hard keeping such an important secret from everyone, but I did it, and now I am safely away.
Your Daughter,
Elisa Roundtree
He pursed his lips. “That should do. Now address the envelope.”
They returned to find Jeremy’s painting propped on a chair. Jeremy had not seen it for months and was pleasantly
surprised by his skill. Elly stood back, studying the canvas. Two slender redheads, similar as bookends, somewhere between girlhood and womanhood, smiled back at her.
Jeremy handed Isabelle a large envelope containing Elly’s letter. Isabelle had written her own note, which she placed in the envelope. She then addressed it to her brother, and handed it to Rory. “Mr. Cook, kindly take this to my footman. Tell him it is an urgent message for Edward Hereford.”
Rory bowed slightly. “Yes, Lady Richfield.”
Jeremy returned to his seat and sat back, rubbing his tired eyes. He smiled at Katherine. She blinked and smiled back.
Isabelle enjoyed watching their silent communication. Her gaze drifted back to Elly, still studying the painting. “So, Miss Fielding, there are the twins. Granted, that fine painting is an artist’s copy of another artist’s interpretation, but…”
“You are correct, Lady Richfield. I look very much like those girls. Their eyes are blue and mine are green, otherwise, we are quite the same.” Her words were slightly over emphasized, as though she did not believe them. Jeremy did not believe them. Thin redheaded girls were as common as pigeons in Leicester Square.
Isabelle looked fondly at the canvas. “The sisters looked identical, but had totally different personalities. Even as a child, my mother loved plants and animals, biology and botany. She is a truly great herbalist. Her sister Caroline wanted pretty clothes and dolls. She eloped with a German Count when she was sixteen. It was a suitable match, so her parents were relieved. Caroline’s first daughter was born within the year and given a German name we couldn’t pronounce. It may have been Elisa.” She exchanged glances with Elly. “Caroline’s second daughter was named Bertha. My mother married much later, so Caroline’s daughters were half-grown when I was born.
“Over the years, Mother tried to keep in touch with her twin, but Caroline and her husband traveled constantly. A few times a year, postcards arrived from exotic places. The day before my fifteenth birthday, mother received a letter from Caroline’s daughter, possibly named Elisa, saying Caroline and her husband had been killed in a train wreck in Egypt. The other daughter Bertha had married an Englishman and was expecting a child. I have no idea what happened to her after that.” She looked terribly sad.
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