“I’m glad you’re not angry with us,” Dolly said. “But, ye’d want us to stay even if we ’ave another mouth to feed?”
“Especially then,” Prudence replied. “I consider you and Mungo my family, Dolly.”
“An’ we feel the same,” she said, beaming. “Look at what Mungo gave me.” Dolly held out her hand, showing off her third finger.
Prudence gazed at a beautiful gold ring with a dazzling oval emerald in the center.
“What an unusual ring,” Prudence remarked. “It’s very beautiful.”
Dolly grinned, saying, “I can’t believe such a lovely thing is mine. Said ’e found it on an island very far away from here…a place called Monkey Island. Doesn’t that sound exciting? And ’e’s been waitin’ to give it to the woman he wants to marry. And now, that’s me.”
Prudence studied the ring again. “Look at these markings on the sides, etched into the gold,” she said. “How very intriguing. It looks like some sort of ancient language.”
“I wonder if it once belonged to a king or queen of some old civilization?” Dolly asked, wide-eyed.
“Given Mungo’s history, I’d say you might be right,” Prudence remarked. “At the very least it looks to be quite valuable. Take good care of it, Dolly.”
“Oh, I will, Miss—ye can be sure of that,” she said proudly. “’Ow is Lady Weston gettin’ on? Has she improved any?”
Prudence took her seat as Dolly went back to her sewing. “She seems to have moments of normalcy followed by sudden weakness, and she tires easily. As you know, her appetite is quite diminished. She will take the tonic Dr. Trask prescribed, but doesn’t want much else besides tea. I hope and pray that she will yet regain her strength. Lord Weston would be devastated if she were to die. And truthfully, so would I.”
“So would we all, miss,” Dolly said. “She is a great lady, indeed. Is there anythin’ else troublin’ ye? Anything’ at all ye want to talk about?”
Prudence forced herself to smile. “No, Dolly. Nothing that I can’t handle myself. But I thank you for your concern. We shall get through this. After all, there is a wedding to plan.”
Prudence raised her teacup, and thought she heard Dolly say, “Perhaps there will be two.”
Choking on her tea, Prudence said, “Pardon me?”
“I said, ‘there’s something in my shoe,’” Dolly replied, wriggling her foot about.
Finishing her tea, Prudence stood and said, “Yes, well, I must go and work on my lesson plan for tomorrow. If you need me, I shall be in the library.”
Prudence left the salon and headed to Alfred’s library, but was intercepted by Crawford carrying a small silver tray in the hallway.
“This came for you, Miss Atwater,” the butler said, lowering the tray.
Prudence took the envelope and thanked him. She opened it and read the message written on the paper inside:
Miss Atwater,
Please attend me forthwith. I must speak to you
regarding the recent attacks against the Atwater School.
I have information which we must discuss.
However, tell no one of our meeting.
My carriage awaits outside.
—The Earl of Harrington
She replaced the note in the envelope and went to fetch her cloak. Though the message had warned against it, she said to Crawford, “I must go out to meet an old friend. I shan’t be too long.”
“Of course, Miss,” he replied with a bow. “Will you be back in time for dinner?”
“Oh yes,” Prudence answered. “I can’t see being later than that. Good day, Crawford.”
“Good day, Miss Atwater,” he said as she departed.
Prudence descended the stone steps of the townhouse and scanned the street for the earl’s carriage. She saw one parked on the street a few houses down and approached it. As she neared, she noticed it didn’t bear Lord Harrington’s coat of arms, and meant to pass it by. But the door swung open, and she saw Alfred’s father beckoning her inside.
“Hurry, Miss Atwater,” he said, reaching out a hand. “And do try to keep your head down. I may have been followed here.”
Prudence did as the earl bid her, climbing into the carriage and sitting on the plush seat opposite him.
“Your note sounded urgent, my lord,” she said.
“It is,” he answered. “I have come by some information regarding these threats against you and your school, Miss Atwater. Given the strained relationship I have with my son, I thought it best to bring it to you directly.”
“You have made the right decision, Lord Harrington,” she replied. “Though I am grateful to Lord Weston for all of his help, this is not his problem to solve. I alone am responsible for the Atwater School and I will deal with these threats myself. What information have you discovered?”
He rapped the tip of his walking stick on the roof and the carriage pulled away. “It’s safer if we are on the move. That way no one can listen in on our conversation, as they might if we were sitting in a coffee house.” Glancing out the window he said, “This is a dangerous business, Miss Atwater. I only hope we can stop this madness before anyone gets hurt. You and your students were lucky to escape the fire…but you might not be so fortunate next time. And though my son and I have a strained relationship, I know that he holds you in high regard. Which is why I must do what I can.”
“What have you found out?” she asked again. “Do you know the identity of the man behind these threats?”
Lord Harrington sat forward. “There is a belief that one of London’s brothel owners is a member of the ton—a powerful aristocrat who, in essence, leads a double life. By day, he is the picture of propriety, but by night, he runs a virtual empire in London’s underworld. Those who get in his way usually end up disappearing, for good.”
“How do you know all of this?” Prudence asked.
The next few moments moved so quickly, she realized too late what was happening.
His hand moved toward her face, and Prudence saw a signet ring on his pinky with the letter “C,” for Charles…or Cage.
She struggled as he covered her mouth with a rag.
“Because,” he growled, “it’s me.”
A strange sensation of weakness came over her suddenly, and she tried to fight against it. But moments later, everything went black.
Chapter 23
“I am glad you agreed to accompany me today, Alfred,” Lady Harrington said as they strolled in Hyde Park. They had done a little shopping on Oxford Street—his mother had purchased a new shawl for Great-Aunt Withypoll in the hopes of lifting her spirits. Then they stopped for some afternoon refreshment at Abbingdale’s Tea House and after, decided to take in some fresh air in the park.
“I was happy to be of service in helping to choose the shawl,” he said. “Great-Aunt Withypoll will be pleased.”
She glanced up at him. “But that is not why I asked you to join me, and you know it. You’ve been avoiding me ever since I arrived from Italy. And though I can’t blame you for having mixed feelings about my presence here, I can blame you for hiding from those feelings. It’s no use, Alfred. We must talk this out. We must be honest with each other.”
Alfred cleared his throat. “It’s a little late for that, Mama.”
“It’s never too late, Alfred,” she countered. “As long as there is breath in our bodies, it is never too late for us to heal old hurts and start again. Now, more than ever, you should know that. A woman whom we both love very much is seriously ill and may die. And if you think I am going to let Great-Aunt Withypoll breathe her last knowing we are still estranged, you have another think coming.”
Alfred stopped in his tracks, trying to contain his temper. “Be careful what you wish for, Mama. If we go down this road, it won’t be pretty. Be assured of that.”
“Sometimes life isn’t pretty, Alfred,” she answered. “I, of all people, know that only too well. I have wasted too many years away from my children because of things that wer
en’t pretty…things like the truth…things like secrets and betrayal and heartbreak. But I have come back to face those things, and take back what has been stolen from me.”
“You abandoned your children,” he said, as anger flared in his veins. “You abandoned me. And you want me to feel sorry for you now? Sorry about what was stolen from you? How about what was stolen from me, Richard and James? I was eight years old, for bloody sake! You never even said goodbye. I ran after your carriage, begging you to come back, but you didn’t. I watched and waited for you, for weeks. Then weeks turned into months, and months into years. All I had of you was a miniature portrait. That’s the mother I grew up with, because you were too busy gallivanting around the Continent to care about your own children.”
“That’s what your father told you, I’m sure,” she said, bitterly.
“At least he was here to tell me something,” Alfred said. “As I grew older, I realized that not all marriages are happy ones. Some couples choose to live apart. But you could have tried to explain that to us at some point. You could have arranged to visit us on a few occasions. When we went to live with Great-Aunt Withypoll and Bertram—when Father was tied up with his business arrangements. But we never saw you. I can only assume you didn’t care.”
Lady Harrington shook her head. “It is precisely because I did care that I stayed away, Alfred.”
“That makes no sense,” he said, confused.
“It will, when I am through,” she answered. “Alfred, you and your brother were—and always will be—the joys of my life. A mother’s love knows no bounds. She will do anything to see her children safe and protected. And that is exactly what I did for you boys.”
“By leaving us to grow up without a mother?” he demanded.
“Yes,” she said, fighting to contain her emotions. “Do you think it was easy for me to leave my babies behind? It would have been easier to rip out my heart! Sometimes I wished he had done that instead, rather than banish me from those I held dear.”
“By ‘he,’ you mean Father?” Alfred said. “Why would your husband send you away? What could you have possibly done to deserve that?”
“I threatened to expose him,” Lady Harrington explained. “I discovered your father’s heinous secrets, and in the heat of the moment, I threatened to splash the truth across the front page of the Times. He became enraged. He said if I didn’t keep my mouth shut and leave England, he would harm you and your brothers. I couldn’t risk that. Though it destroyed me to leave you, I did what he demanded.”
Alfred tried to make sense of what his mother was saying. “What was the secret you discovered about him? What was so horrible?”
“Your father is a brothel-owner, Alfred,” she said, finally. “He buys and sells women as if they are no more than inventory in a shop. He controls their lives, and if they try to leave his employ, bad things happen. I overheard a conversation one evening that he was having with one of his associates, and what I heard chilled my blood. As if making money off prostitution wasn’t bad enough…”
“But why would he do that, and risk destroying his reputation?” Alfred asked.
“Money,” she said, simply. “Your grandfather, the fifth earl, was a gambler and lost most of the family fortune. When your father inherited the title, it was all that was left of the legacy. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time, no one did. But your father was obsessed with increasing the family’s wealth. He would stop at nothing until he regained what your grandfather lost, and brought in even more money. I threatened all of that, so he punished me by separating me from my children. It has been a hard sentence to bear.”
Alfred tried to take in everything his mother was saying…so many years had passed without her in their lives. He barely knew her anymore. Yet a part of his heart couldn’t help but recognize this woman on an elemental level. The little boy in him remembered her, even if the grown man refused.
“But why come back to us now?” he asked. “My brothers want nothing to do with you. Why open up those old wounds?”
“Because of Aunt Withypoll, who has been like a mother to you in my stead,” she answered. “I could not let her die without seeing her again, and at least attempting to put this horrible situation to rights. We have lost many years, Alfred—it’s true. Your brothers may yet find it in their hearts to forgive me. I hope they do. I want to be part of all of your lives from now on. When you marry and have children, I want to be the doting grandmother. In the end, my son, all we have is each other. Not wealth or power or money can take the place of family. I wish your father could have realized that.”
“But wasn’t it dangerous for you to return to London?” Alfred asked. “If Father threatened you before, why were you willing to risk his wrath now?”
“I refused to live my life in fear any longer,” Lady Harrington said. “Charles had taken so much from me—the best years of my life with my children. I realized there was nothing more he could do to me. I was going to come back here and fight for whatever was left. And that’s what I’m doing, Alfred. I’m fighting for you, now—for you and Aunt Withypoll. I am no longer afraid to stand up and face my foe.”
“Has Father made any threats against you since your return?” Alfred demanded.
“No,” she replied. “But as you witnessed, things are strained between us. He is not happy that I’ve turned up again, that I can tell you. I plan to tell him that I will keep his secrets buried if he leaves me—and the rest of the family—alone.”
Another thought was forming in Alfred’s mind, and it was one he wished he didn’t have to face. “You said Father was a brothel-owner, but that was twenty years ago. Do you know for certain that he is still involved in that world?”
“I don’t know anything for certain,” she said. “He may be involved in reputable business dealings now, or he may be up to his elbows in it, still. He would never tell me such things, especially now.”
Everything was falling into place for Alfred, but the picture it painted was dark and horrible.
“Did you ever hear Father refer to himself, or anyone else address him as ‘Mr. Cage?’” Alfred asked.
Lady Harrington pondered for a moment. “It was many years ago, Alfred. The details of the night I overheard him and his business associate have faded over time. But nothing comes to mind regarding the name ‘Cage.’ Why?”
“There is a suspicion that the man behind the fire at the Atwater School is a vengeful brothel-owner named Mr. Cage,” Alfred explained. “Some of the girls have heard his name before, but no one has ever seen his face. Cage seems to be a powerful figure behind the scenes. He might be the one trying to stop Prudence’s work in taking the girls off the streets. Some of the girls could have died in the fire, Mama. I could have died trying to save them. Do you think Father is capable of such devilish acts?”
“I am not certain, anymore,” she replied. “Twenty years ago, he banished me to Italy. He never harmed me, but he threatened to harm you and your brothers back then. They could have been idle threats, made out of anger. But I wasn’t going to take the chance, so I obeyed him and left England. Truly, I have no idea what Charles is capable of.”
“We should return to the house,” Alfred said, finally. “You know how agitated Crawford becomes when we are late for dinner.”
“Of course,” Lady Harrington said. “We have been away from Aunt Withypoll for too long as it is. But I am thankful that you have heard me out. I hope that we are on a better path with each other now. Because this time, I am not going anywhere. That is a promise.”
As Alfred escorted his mother back to their waiting carriage, he tried to make sense of all she had just told him. So many years had passed, so many long-held beliefs about his mother’s true feelings were now in doubt.
For most of his life he thought she didn’t care about him or his brothers. Was that simply a fiction his father had created for his own ends?
After all these years, why should Alfred believe anything his mother said?
>
What if this was all part of a plan to manipulate her children, somehow?
Would Alfred’s father admit to any of the allegations Lady Harrington had made? He doubted it. One of them was lying, and had been for quite some time. But why? He couldn’t see how returning to England would benefit his mother in any way, other than what she’d explained.
However, if she was telling the truth about her husband, the earl would have little reason to admit such a thing to his children, now. It would paint him as the villain. Alfred had never known his father to admit to wrongdoing to anyone about anything.
Yet, if everything happened as his mother described all those years ago, it meant his father was a very cold and dangerous man.
Could Lord Harrington be the mysterious ‘Mr. Cage’?
And if so, was he the man responsible for the threats against Prudence and her students?
Alfred wanted to know the answer to that question, and many more.
Chapter 24
Crawford opened the front door, regarding Alfred and Lady Harrington with a furrowed brow. “I am relieved to see you’ve returned, my lord,” he said. “I sent for Dr. Trask. I am afraid Lady Weston has taken a turn….”
“You did right, Crawford,” Alfred said hurriedly, handing Crawford his hat. “Is the doctor here now?”
The butler nodded. “Yes, my lord. He asked that you attend him directly when you and Lady Harrington arrived home.”
Alfred would have bounded up the stairs two at a time but he couldn’t abandon his mother to follow behind him. As it was, they ascended the staircase as fast as they could and went to Great-Aunt Withypoll’s bed chamber. Knocking lightly on the door, he heard Dr. Trask bid them to enter.
“Crawford said he’d sent for you,” Alfred said as he and his mother approached Great-Aunt Withypoll’s bedside. The elderly woman looked more frail than she ever had. Her skin was pale and her breathing appeared labored.
Taming The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 2) Page 19