“Thomas was planning a surprise for me? I wonder if it had anything to do with the British Museum. Oh bother, listen to me, how silly I sound,” Emma chastised herself. These lovelorn concerns were unimportant
“Not silly, just a girl in love. It is natural for your thoughts to be so inclined. From what Caroline told me, she was also involved and it did have to do with the British Museum. I am sure once we find Lucille, he will begin the preparations in earnest.”
“Lord Hartwell has arrived, my lord, shall I direct him to the library?” Lewis inquired, appearing silently at the door.
“Oh yes, do come along with me, Emma. You have a right to hear this. I have a mind of what this disappearance is in regards. Lucille will do anything to save the name of the family, but it is not her burden to bear. Nor is it her sin. It is my brother’s.”
“I did not know you had a brother, Papa.”
He recoiled, closing his eyes against the mention of his brother. “It will all be explained dreadfully soon. The truth has been buried far too long.”
Thomas, elegantly attired for a night at the theatre, had spent a tiring evening dealing with the police. He had dispatched a note to Lord Sheridan as soon as he had discovered Lady Wren to be gone. There were not many leads to go on. It was as if she disappeared off of the earth. The questioning of the staff did not lead to any helpful news. They were all either ignorant or were tight-lipped.
The fatigue was dripping off his body by the time he arrived at the Sheridan's townhouse. He was told to await the family in Lord Sheridan's library. Lord Hartwell remained on his feet, perusing the bookshelves. It was more of a way to free his mind then to actually ascertain the earl's collection.
There was a swish of skirts that signaled some woman of the house was shortly to enter the room and his silent study would be interrupted.
“Thomas,” the soft voice called out to him. There she was, Emma, standing uncertainly in the doorway.
“You look gorgeous tonight, my dear Emma.” A smile cracked on her face, melting away the worry in her eyes. This simple gesture also did wonders for his mood. “I had hoped to greet you in much happier circumstances this evening.”
“As did I.” Emma hung her head, her curls drooping. “Have you any idea to where my aunt as gone or been taken? It is not like her to simply disappear in the middle of the day.”
“I am not sure what happened either. The police had not learned much.”
Emma hung her head. Shortly, her mother and father strode into the room with Caroline following behind. After greetings were exchanged, they settled into chairs surrounding a small table. Lord Sheridan rang for Lewis, who had not drifted far from the room.
“Please bring us all some port.”
“Why, Lord Sheridan, that is hardly proper for us ladies!” Lady Sheridan protested, at once grasping for smelling salts. Caroline shot Emma an amused look, her eyes sparkling with mirth in the steady firelight.
“My dear, we are all family here. Lord Hartwell will not go gallivanting around London shouting out our transgressions.”
Lady Sheridan leaned towards her husband. Her voice dropped to a volume that her daughters did not expect her to reach. Her words were barely audible to Emma, but Caroline was seated closer. Her eyebrows shot up, almost in danger of flying off of her forehead.
Her mother had whispered, “But are we sure that Lord Hartwell will not break the engagement once you tell him about Emma?”
Was there some sordid secret that even Emma did not know about herself?
Caroline bit her lip nervously, glancing towards her sister. The brunette appeared suitably distressed at the twists this evening offered. She had little inkling this had anything at all to do with her. Caroline’s mind drifted to that note tucked away in her desk upstairs.
Chapter Five
“To tell the story of my late brother means I am also telling the story of your father, Emma,” Lord Sheridan began. His wife, though she was privy to this tale, gasped aloud. It felt far too soon to reveal this to their daughters. They had not discussed these events in many years. The implications of the revelation could threaten the family’s place in society.
“You, papa...you...you’re not my birth father?” inquired Emma. Her world felt strange all of a sudden as if she was no longer Lady Emma Wren. Who was she then? Why was she here?
Thomas had some inclinations that she was perhaps not fully English. She was darker than any of her family members. Hers was a shade that could not easily be explained with tales of Spanish blood. He spent many evenings examining the top of her head; the image of her tightly curled hair often helped him sleep. He had seen this sort of hair texture before and it was not shown in Lady Sheridan’s or Caroline’s flaxen waves. Emma had never thought much on her appearance, having attributed her olive skin to be nothing more than a misfortune of birth.
“My brother, Joseph, as most second sons are wont to do, entered into the military. He, naturally, traveled to many distant lands and has met many different people. He would keep us informed with concise but meaningful letters. First, he went to India and sent us back some goods. They were all fakes however. He did not have the heart to take the true artifacts. His travels took him next to Cairo and from there they headed deep into the depths of the continent.
Somewhere along the way, I cannot recall the exact area, he fell in love with an African woman. We know little of her life. But a missionary married them. He was planning on bringing her back to London with him. It is not unheard of for a wealthy man to install a foreign woman as a mistress. It is quite rare to marry her. They had to delay their journey because she was, excuse me...with child. So, they were to make the journey when she was safely delivered of child.
Unfortunately, there were complications and she passed away shortly after giving birth to you, Emma. Your father was suitably distraught but saw fit to at least bring you with him back to England. Initially, her family refused him. They blamed him for the death of their daughter. His own soldiers found the business disgusting and thought it best to leave savages with their own kind.
Joseph refused to listen to either. He bundled you up and hired a wet nurse. He brought you to us immediately at our country manor. We were in the country for Lady Sheridan’s confinement. She delivered the babe early and unfortunately we lost him. It was divine providence that brought such a beautiful baby girl into our lives.
He implored us to care for you while he was away and that we did. Joseph had some loose ends to tie up in the Army. You were settling nicely in our home as our second daughter. My brother visited as often as was allowed and as not to raise suspicion.” The earl stopped, taking in a deep breath. He reached out to grab his wife’s hand.
Caroline was dumbfounded. Her quick mind realized this was the secret that was alluded to in that note. It was a distressing secret, no doubt, and enough to make most of the men in the ton run away. Many did not want to blacken their legitimate family line. Indeed it was shocking, but did little to explain Lucille’s disappearance.
“When you were two, we received word that Joseph was dead. The police ruled it an accident. We were never provided with any details. Shortly thereafter, Lucille left in the middle of the night. We publicly attributed it to the dealings with that rake. No one knows about the note she left blaming herself for Joseph’s demise. We kept that a secret. I had not given the matter any thought until I began receiving odd notes shortly after your engagement was announced.”
“I received a note from a stranger yesterday. Whoever it was hinted at some grand destructive secret,” Caroline informed them, crossing her arms.
“I actually have also received a note or two shortly after I contacted Lady Wren. They referred to her as a murderess,” added Thomas. He had not thought much of them, finding them to be mere tricks from a bored debutante.
“I did not get a letter, but someone at a recent ball did bump into me to ask where I buried my son.” Lady Sheridan revealed this quietly. The memories of her
babe were still fresh in her mind. To this day, she mourned that babe and often struggled with the pain. She blamed her body for killing him.
All eyes turned on Emma, expecting her to reveal a similar tale. She simply shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “I seem to have been left out.”
The earl sipped from his port. He contemplated these events carefully. This person knew far too much about the inner-workings of the family events. It would be difficult to get the police involved without revealing the extent of the scandal. Without a doubt, the newspapers would run wild with this tale. A playwright could have the biggest hit of the season with a family tragedy of love and murder. At all costs, Emma would need to be protected. Many members of the ton would not react kindly to the news of her African mother. Lord Sheridan wished he could remember her name. Surely somewhere in an old letter there would be her name.
His tired gazed settled on Lord Hartwell. What did he think of this all? Kellaway knew well of Emma's heritage. The earl wondered if he had ever told his son. Thomas' attention, however, was directed to Emma. There was a naked concern in his eyes that resounded deep in the earl. There was a lot of emotion in the meaningful look. Feelings that would boil over if not properly attended.
Emma had downed her entire glass of port with a flick of her wrist. Her dark eyes were focused on the empty glass, entranced by the stray drops of ruby liquid.
“We shall understand, Hartwell, if you desire to break the engagement,” Lord Sheridan said. It may be wrong to test the lad in such a way. “Kellaway has been aware of these truths since Emma was a babe. He still, as you know, very much wished to see you both married. Since she was a child, she has enchanted your father. He too has said you are allowed to end this. We would not take any offense.”
The Marquess shook his head firmly at Sheridan's words. There was little that could now convince him to not take Emma as his bride. Many of his peers viewed Africans as inferiors prone to savagery and depending upon the goodwill of Englishmen to save them from an eternal hell. But Thomas found that Africans were no different from Europeans. Some were good and some were bad.
“That is not at all necessary, my lord. Emma is my fiancée and shall soon be my wife. I am more concerned with another matter. Might I speak with you privately?”
The countess did not wait to be directly dismissed. Caroline too rose to her feet, ready to discreetly excuse herself. Emma had not yet moved. Thomas gently shook his fiancée. She blinked and her soul returned to her body. She looked up at him.
“Can you join your mother and sister for a few minutes? I have something that I need to discuss with your father.”
She leaped up, placing her glass on a small table. The women departed with polite curtsies.
“What is your concern, Hartwell?” Lord Sheridan asked.
“Do you think it would be prudent to get married sooner than planned? We already have the special license.”
Lord Sheridan sat back against his chair. This was going just as he had hoped. Constance was worried for no reason. Lord Hartwell would gladly marry their daughter.
“You want to be wed sooner? Then are you pleased to be marrying Emma?”
“The weeks I have spent courting Emma had pleased me immeasurably. We are both peers, but my father is a duke and thus he does hold more power than you. With the protection his name provides, I am sure this ensuing mess will be easier on her. We can also travel abroad earlier if it gets unbearable.”
“You are very wise, Hartwell. I think that is a capital idea! I must apologize for keeping this all from you. We found it our only option. With the political climate as it is matters like these are best kept within the family. Despite what her blood may say, Emma is our daughter. At last, you shall finally be a son to me.”
“We are lucky indeed the ton is so willing to accept what is told to them.”
“Quite lucky.” Lord Sheridan cuffed the Marquess on his shoulder, chuckling happily. “Constance will not like this, but she will manage. I will try to reign her in on the guest list. Meanwhile, I know you have aided in some investigations. Do you think you have a friend who could look into the matter of my brother?”
“Of course! I have already contacted a friend in regards to Lady Wren, but he will surely help in this too.”
“Excellent. Now, I am sure you wish to inform Emma of these developments. I do not know how she has taken this news...perhaps you could inquire?” He looked to him expectantly.
“That was my intent.” Lord Hartwell rose to his feet and left the room. The earl let out a deep sigh in the ensuing silence. It was not often he found the quiet disturbing. Tonight, it provided too much time for thinking. The countess’ steady stream of chatter would soothe him.
Constance Wren, Countess of Sheridan, stared at her younger daughter who was standing near the window. She had not spoken a word since Henry had revealed the circumstances of her birth. She wondered if Emma thought her mother had treated her differently because of this. That was not the case.
Emma, with her olive skin, would always need to appear more polished, more elegant and wealthier than the other girls of the ton. They would find a suitable husband with ease by batting their fair lashes. This was the way of the world. She did not want to see her daughter fall behind. Even if she had not given birth to her, Emma was her daughter.
She knew she had been too hard on her. But it was for her own good.
“Mama, what do you think will happen?” Caroline appeared at her mother’s side.
“It may be a scare tactic. Maybe someone will reveal it. I had hoped Emma would never learn the truth. I fear it further complicates her life.”
“I am happy to know,” Emma spoke up. “I have always felt a keen feeling of exclusion. I am at least pleased to know it was not my adolescent ennui.”
“Emma dear, I hope you know that I have not been stern with you because I did not want you.”
“Oh mother, that was not even a thought in my mind,” Emma admitted. “I am more thankful for all you have done. You are the only mother I have ever known.”
Constance’s heart twinged at the sweet smile Emma tossed back to her. There was grief that fed on her soul daily, gnawing away until she felt nothing. That smile helped to soften the ache.
“I must say, Emma, you are taking this supremely well,” said Caroline, peering closely at her sister. That girl was fully capable of tears and tantrums. She appeared perfectly calm as if they were discussing the weather.
“Somehow, dearest sister, I have begun to recapture myself. This explains the kink in my hair and the pigment of my skin.” She paused fingering a stray tendril. Her hair felt coarse. How many nights had she cried out in desperation wanting the smooth locks that graced her sister's head?
“Lord Hartwell,” announced Lewis. He stepped to the side allowing the Marquess to enter the room. He appeared distracted, tugging on his hair. She watched him in the window's reflection.
“I hope I am not interrupting. May I speak with Emma in private? I understand it is wildly inappropriate.
Emma was eager to accompany Thomas on a short sojourn. Her eyes darted to her mother. She deferred to her for a reply.
“After this evening, I dare say a quick walk will be quite refreshing.” She flicked her gaze to Thomas. “Do behave yourself, Lord Hartwell,” she warned.
“Thank you, Lady Sheridan. I am ever in your debt.” He bowed to Caroline and Constance. “Shall we?”
In a nearly empty box in Convent Garden sat Nathaniel Vale. Where ion God's green earth were his theatre partners? He had a permanent invitation to the Kellaway box, which was used by both the Kellaway clan and the Sheridan clan. But, not a single one of them were present that evening.
He sat through the dreadful play with no company. It was impossible to hear anything with the heckling from the general public. Not that anyone truly came to sit and enjoy the acting and the sets. It was, as everything else, a social gathering. The perfect time to see the people one so intimatel
y met throughout the Season.
Nathaniel could not even remember the name of whatever it was he was supposed to be watching. He remembered calling upon Emma yesterday who revealed herself to be “absolutely thrilled” to see it. Her chair was empty. Not one of them had the decency to forewarn him of their absence. Frightfully rude of them.
At least His Grace of Kellaway had one of the best boxes in the theatre. It was perfectly situated to look upon the rest of the boxes and even the general audience. There were ladies in glittering gowns flanked by men in their sharp evening coats. He easily spotted the new Lady Carradine, sitting conspicuously alone.
Though alone, she preened like a peacock at the forefront of everyone's attentions. Her resplendent crimson gown lent her a sultry air, her alabaster bosom nearly tipping from her bodice. A lover of fine jewels, she accented with large rubies at her throat and ears. Lady Carradine was, without a doubt, the finest beauty in the ton. Tonight, she had taken great pains to appear even grander. Those poor debutantes in their milky muslins had no hope tonight.
Nathaniel readily realized that she sought to impress someone. Likely a man. One that had not appeared to the play. Her opera glass had been trained on his box for most of the first act. Her fixation earned no rewards. He was still absent.
The former Miss Loring had set her cap at Thomas when she first batted her ocean-blue eyes at him. He was decidedly against any entanglement with her, finding her to be tiresome. She did not let such a paltry reason stop her. Her dogged determination when it came to conquests was legendary. Nathaniel was unsure if winning Lord Hartwell could ever satisfy her. Considering her married state and his affianced state, he assumed the countess desired an affair. The idea was preposterous.
Colors of a Lady Page 7