A Bright Young Thing

by Brianne Moore

  “Don’t speak of it,” she spat.

  “It?” Toby echoed faintly.

  “How can you speak of him like that?” I wondered. “You don’t even know him!”

  “You’re just like your mother,” she scoffed. “She was soft too. Harped on me to forgive Mary, said I should take the thing in. And later, when she became ill, she came to me again about it. It needed to be cared for. She’d done it because Mary went off God knows where to try to hide her shame. I wouldn’t allow Augustus to put one penny toward it.”

  “Mother was ill, then? What was wrong with her?” I asked.

  “Nobody knew. Some malignancy eating away at her. A punishment, I say, for her part in all this. She knew Mary was a flirt, but she said nothing. And she kept the thing around. Visited it. Gave it our family’s name, even. She exposed us all to danger and then expected me to make it my problem. Well, she was bitterly disappointed in that.”

  I nodded. “So my father took out the insurance policy to help provide for Raymond. And then you and Edgry stole the money.”

  “There is no stealing from an idiot,” Elinor informed me. “Mr. Edgry and I agreed that, as you were incapable, I should take charge of the money when the policy was paid. I should use it as I saw fit, to provide for the creature’s needs.”

  “But you stopped paying for his upkeep at Rosedale,” I murmured, horror stirring and blossoming. “You were hoping they’d toss him out.”

  “Of course I did! Does that thing deserve to live in some palace, when there were others in such need? It should have been left to the care of the state, like other stray animals.”

  “Mother!” Toby moaned in horror.

  “I suppose I spoiled your plans, then,” I observed in a frigid voice.

  She snorted. “It was only a matter of time before you tired of paying for him. It would interfere with your clothes and your parties and trips to Paris! You’re a frivolous creature, just like Lillian. Always on about her flowers and her paintings. And Mary—well, she was a fool, and wicked, and you’re her all over again!” She was puce with rage. “At the very least, if you kept paying that money, you’d never go back to Hensley! And why should you have everything you want? You ungrateful girl, why should you go off and live a life of bliss after what your parents did to me?”

  “Good Lord, Mother,” Toby breathed. “Visiting the iniquity of the fathers—”

  “Don’t you dare!” She flung one trembling, pointing finger in his direction. “Don’t you dare try to quote scripture to me, Tobias Weyburn! You are a godless man!”

  “And you call yourself a god-fearing woman?” I cried. “Stealing from a helpless person?”

  “I stole nothing!” she shrieked. “Why should he be my burden, anyway? Where is his mother? Gone, run off to live her life free from this shadow. She should be punished! And by God if she’s not here to take her punishment, then someone else will! You or he, I do not care which!”

  A chill settled over me as I looked at this woman who was my blood, but more cruel and vindictive than anyone I’d ever known.

  “Don’t you look at me like that,” she snarled. “You don’t understand. You—your parents coddled you because it was so important for Astra to be happy all the time. Happy and empty-headed and giddy. You don’t know anything. And you came into my house—my house—which I opened to you out of charity when you had nowhere else to go. You probed and asked your questions and couldn’t leave well enough alone. And then you brought shame upon it once again. Well, are you happy now?” She coughed violently.

  I looked at her for a long time, ricocheting between rage and pity. This woman with her demons, hidden deep inside. Tamped down, locked up, until their unexpected release by my parents and then by me. Taking out her grief and fury on the most innocent target.

  “You will return that money,” I told her in a low, firm voice. “A check for the full amount will be sent to my lawyer within the week. If it doesn’t arrive, I’ll instruct him to issue a criminal complaint for theft against you.”

  She blanched. “You wouldn’t dare,” she breathed between coughs. “And it wouldn’t matter. I could fight it in court.”

  “Yes, you could,” I agreed. “But think of the scandal that would be. All these secrets spilling out; the press and the public eating them up. Everyone would know everything. I don’t think you want that, do you?”

  Her skin went from pale to mottled as an intense rage built within her. I calmly watched it until it came spewing out.

  “Get out,” she rasped. “Out! Get out! Get out of my house this instant! Out!

  I rose, still outwardly calm although my heart was racing. I slowly walked out of the room, glad to be leaving.

  Toby was frozen by the door, staring at his mother as if he’d never seen her before. Or as if she’d suddenly shed her skin, revealing a Gorgon who’d been inside this whole time.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The thing was done: I had cut myself free. A sense of calm came over me as I left Gertrude Street that last time. This was what I needed—one big push right out of the nest, to see whether or not I was ready to fly.

  I returned to Wotting Park for a few days, then accepted Cecilia’s invitation to stay with her in London. She and her family were there for a few days en route to France to meet Ducky’s mother and start shopping for Cecilia’s trousseau.

  “Darling, of course you must stay for as long as you like,” Cecilia told me, a sentiment that was heartily seconded by her very apologetic father.

  But of course not everyone was so welcoming.

  “You!” Millicent hissed, meeting me as I was making my way downstairs the evening of my arrival. Some of Ducky’s friends were hosting a celebratory dinner for the engaged couple. Millicent had not been invited.

  Laura’s scheme had borne fruit: news of Millicent’s antics had spread quickly, fueled by Freddie’s sisters, and Belinda and her mother, who had put more effort than I’d ever expected into setting the record straight. Lady Crayle had even telephoned me to apologize and invite me to tea, to make a show of how acceptable I now was.

  As they had with me, the stories around Millicent quickly grew uglier. Society, bored after weeks in the country, had taken to telephones and monogrammed letterhead to spread ever more malicious tales of Millicent’s jealousy. They said she’d poisoned me at the wedding because I knew something about her. But what did I know? They had theories about that too.

  Laddie dropped her, saying he needed to concentrate on his election campaign. She hadn’t received a single invitation to a house party when the grouse season began. She was in for a long, cold winter, and I felt a bit guilty about how far this had gone. But, in all fairness, she had brought this on herself.

  “Yes, me,” I sighed, unwilling to dip back into this poisonous well.

  She looked terrible: her coloring was off, and she had a haggard look about her. “I don’t know how you can show yourself here,” she said, drawing herself up. She probably hoped she’d look like a viper ready to strike, but she reminded me of an old hunting dog putting on a good show: dragging itself to its feet because it knows it has to or risk being shot.

  “Why shouldn’t I be here?” I asked. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I warned you that your lies would come back on you, and they have. That’s not my fault.”

  She practically bubbled with rage, trying to think of some way to devastate me, bring me low, so she could feel high. I watched her, weary of this. I thought of my aunt and how she had let her own bitterness twist and warp her. We are all shaped by our tragedies, Jeremy had said. How very true.

  “It must be hard for you,” I said quietly as she seethed. “To see your sister so happy while you’re shut out. I’m sorry for that and for what happened. But people will find another scandal to claw over soon enough, and you’ll be invited around again. Until then, keep your head down and emerge humble. And smile. Nobody loves a sourpuss.”

  I turned away and moved toward the stairs.
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  “My mother used to say she was glad I was a girl,” she said, in a hollow voice.

  I stopped and faced her again. Her head was turned to the side, away from me.

  She continued, “I used to think she was just happy to have a daughter. But then I grew older and realized she was simply relieved that the title and estate wouldn’t be passed down on the wrong side of the blanket.” She took a deep, shuddering breath.

  How sad, to be so unloved. To be the embarrassment in your family. This is the hand Raymond might have been dealt if not for Mother’s care and my determination.

  I returned to stand near her. “I won’t tell anyone what I know,” I promised, reaching out and laying a hand on her arm. There had been enough damage done already.

  Her face hardened. She shook off my hand and stomped into her room.

  * * *

  Within the week, Reilly, Dandy, and I were installed in a set of rooms in a respectable place on Clarges Street in Mayfair. Once settled, Reilly redoubled her efforts to upend the Trade Disputes and Trades Union Act and seemed to be gathering a fair bit of support from fellow servants. I recruited Joyce to the cause, and the two of us sought out friends with influence. We painted vivid, heartbreaking pictures of hungry, ragged children and desperate, decent fathers. Our friends teared up and promised to have a word with the right people.

  It seemed that things were more peaceful in the Bradbury marriage. Joyce had her projects, David had his plane, and there was some talk of David standing for Parliament because, as he said, “Joyce is right: things really are a bit of a mess. Something needs to be done, and we certainly can’t rely on the likes of Laddie to do it.”

  Happily, Reilly’s brother was settling in well at Vandemark; Raines had nothing but praise for him. His wife had found work as a housekeeper for an elderly couple, and the children were all at school instead of facing a lifetime down the mines.

  Freddie, also permanently in London, was pleasantly surprising us all with his commitment to success and sobriety. Apparently, his sisters were so shocked he’d managed to secure Linklater’s business they’d actually been rendered speechless, which was enough incentive for him to go out and drum up more business. The pair of us visited the factory often, learning what we could and making further plans. We pursued new clients, some of whom were attracted by that rumor I’d started about Porter keeping his business with us. Freddie was no angel—he allowed himself to be tempted by his gadabout friends now and again—but he was far better than he had been, and even kept up with the exercise regimen Laura had planned for him before he left Wotting Park.

  Edgry’s trust was finally undone, and my portion of the life insurance was released. Some I invested in government bonds; the rest was saved. Raymond’s money, too, was paid back on schedule. That was placed in a trust for Raymond, with myself and Toby as executors. Toby, once he recovered from his shock, had shown enormous interest in this unknown brother. On Raymond’s birthday we both went to Rosedale, taking Dandy and a cake and a gift of new paints.

  Toby took to spending most of his days at Clarges Street, reclining on the sofa, lazily scratching Dandy’s favorite spots. He was there one blustery day in November, blowing smoke rings at the ceiling while Dandy snored and I scribbled away at some paperwork.

  “Mother’s been talking about you,” he told me.

  “Has she? I thought for sure she’d never mention my name again. That’s what she does with people who displease her, is it not?”

  “Come, now.”

  I sighed. The rage I had once felt toward her had died down and was now just a simmering animosity. I couldn’t ignore the terrible things she had done, but I couldn’t entirely condemn or hate her either. We are all shaped by our tragedies.

  “What does she say?” I asked.

  “Not much. You know she wouldn’t confide in me. But she wishes you’d visit.”

  “She could visit me. She knows my address.”

  He looked up at me. “You know she’d never do that.”

  “Then we’re at a stalemate. I won’t reward her with my tacit approval, Toby, and my going to see her would be just that.”

  “Would it? Or would it be a kind gesture to a sickly old woman?” He propped himself up on his elbow so he could look at me. “We should be angry with my father and this Aunt Mary. They’re the ones who misbehaved and then abandoned their child.”

  “And I am angry with them, believe me. I’m angry with many people in this situation. It was terribly handled by our elders.”

  “I don’t disagree, old girl. But we’re such a tiny family now, do we really want to hold each other at arms’ length?”

  “I suppose not. I’ll see her again sometime soon. We can try to find some neutral ground somewhere. Tea at the Savoy, or something.”

  “She’ll complain about the extravagance, but I’ll come if there’s cake.”

  I chuckled as the bell rang. “Get that, will you, Toby? Reilly’s out.”

  Toby groaned, hauled himself to his feet, and wandered into the hall. As I finished one sheet and turned to another, I heard the door open and Toby say, “Why, Lord Dunreaven, what a not terribly unexpected pleasure!”

  I set the pen aside and stood, face warming and hands tingling. I hadn’t seen Jeremy since I left Wotting Park, though we had exchanged letters and telephone calls.

  “Butler’s day off?” Jeremy guessed.

  “Oh no, I’m training for a new career,” Toby explained.

  Jeremy chuckled. “I should take advice from you, then. And please, call me Jeremy. I hope we’ve reached the point of using Christian names.”

  “Have we? I’m starting to wonder if there’s some news my cousin hasn’t shared.”

  I poked my head out of the drawing room. “Toby, stop teasing him.”

  Toby bowed deeply. “As you wish, Madam. I shall go put away his lordship’s coat and hat and hide myself away in the kitchen.”

  I sent him off with a withering look as I ushered Jeremy into the drawing room.

  “I’m interrupting,” he noted, nodding toward the papers on the desk.

  “You are, but it’s a very welcome interruption,” I said happily, taking his hands and leading him to the sofa.

  “I’m glad to hear that.” His smile was soft. “How are you? It’s been quite a challenging few weeks, by the sound of things.”

  “I’m all right. Or nearly all right. The dust is settling, and things seem to be spinning less frantically.”

  “Oh? I’m glad to hear it.” He gently ran his thumbs over the tops of my fingers. “I’m sorry I’ve not been to see you before now.”

  “It’s all right. I’ve been busy, anyway. Did you know Ford’s opening a new automobile plant near London? Freddie and I have been chasing down contacts.”

  “Have you, indeed?” Jeremy grinned. “You are bold, the pair of you.”

  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

  “Quite. Which is why I’ve been forming some ventures of my own.”

  “I don’t doubt it! And I’m pleased to hear it, Jeremy.”

  “I’m pleased you’re pleased. The pleasing of you is a pleasure to me,” he said, playfully. “I’ve missed you terribly,” he confessed.

  “And I’ve missed you too,” I replied, squeezing his hands.

  He grinned. “I wonder, now that things are settling, how you’d feel about someone coming along and kicking the dust back up? Complicating things?”

  “Well, that would depend on the person and on the complications.”

  “If the person were me?” There was a devilish look about him now, and a warmth—no, heat—flowed through my hands, making my blood boil.

  “You know you can ask me anything. And if you keep looking at me like that, I can refuse you nothing.”

  “I’m glad to hear it because I have a proposal for you.”

  I always thought that when this moment came I’d feel nervous or giddy. That I might burst into tears of joy or perhaps even panic.
But although my heart sped up and my face warmed, I felt perfectly calm. Because I knew: This is right. This is how it should be. This is what you want.

  I grinned and asked, “Business or pleasure?”

  “Can’t it be both?”

  “Normally I’d say no, but I make exceptions for exceptional people.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “I won’t claim to be anywhere near exceptional. But you are, and you’ve made me feel ashamed of myself.”

  I hadn’t expected that. “Did I? I certainly didn’t mean to!”

  “It’s all right—I needed to be made ashamed,” he continued. “You see, some of us are taught from our earliest days that things will simply come to us because of who we are and how we look. So, we wait for them. And we atrophy, sitting around, wondering why everyone else’s chance has come and ours hasn’t. But I met you and I saw you refusing to sit by. You’re beautiful; you could have snapped up a rich man and lived in comfort.”

  “A spoiled little pet?” I snorted. “Decorative and discontented? Not for me.”

  “Exactly! It wasn’t for you, so you did something about it. You saw a challenge and you met it and you—you’re extraordinary!” he burst out, face shining with pride. “I realized that I couldn’t simply wait for some solution to my problems to drop like manna from the sky. I had to do something, and I am! I’ve been busy, making plans and sorting things out. We’re going to grow strawberries at Midbourne, and sell them at select grocers here in London. A premium price for His Lordship’s Berries! The dower house is to be a little hotel for the tourists visiting the area, and the house will be opened for tours. And there are other things, too, that may come about. I am not going to be one of these useless men living on their titles and dreams of the past. I am going to deserve you.” His excitement and energy were palpable, tingling in the air around him. I knew that if anyone could save Midbourne, he would.

  “Oh, Jem,” I breathed, reaching up to stroke the side of his face.

  “The thing is,” he went on, “as much as I love Midbourne, it’s a dashed lonely place to be right now, and this seems like hollow work to be doing alone. I’ve hated not being able to see you every day. I keep thinking, ‘I should ask Astra what she thinks about this,’ but you’re not there. I imagine someone else holding your hand or kissing you, and I don’t even know who he is, this poor man, but I want to rip his arm off.”