Sins of Omission

by Irina Shapiro

  I snuggled closer to Hugo, eager for another hour of sleep until it was time to get up and start the day, but the moment had passed, and I was wide-awake. Hugo turned onto his side and smiled at me. “Try to sleep; I’ll get her if she wakes again.”

  “She’s teething,” I replied. “She’s in pain.”

  “I seem to remember our nurse putting brandy on Jane’s gums when she was teething,” Hugo said, his eyes clouding over as they always did when he thought of his sister.

  “There must be something else I can give her that’s non-alcoholic. I should have asked Doctor LeGrand when he was here last.”

  The doctor hadn’t been back for nearly two weeks, having pronounced his patients to be no longer in need of his care. Hugo still felt some discomfort, but the redness and swelling were gone, leaving in their place a small, square scab where the doctor had cauterized the wound. It pained him to move his shoulder a certain way, but he was getting better every day. My mind still couldn’t quite grasp the fact that Sir Trumbull wanted Hugo dead, but now that he was gone, and the hired gun was dead, I felt slightly calmer, if not completely at peace. Hugo hadn’t been particularly surprised when Archie told him, having already worked it out for himself, but he was relieved that Archie had been able to track down his assailant.

  Frances was recovering as well. She’d refused to drink the blood, but had been eating meat and liver, as the doctor prescribed. I was sure that the meat-heavy diet would replenish the iron she’d bled out and make her feel stronger. I knew that Hugo had strong feelings about what Frances tried to do, but he hadn’t said anything to her, figuring that the poor girl had suffered enough. Archie sat with her every day while she was abed, reading to her or just talking. Seeing them together always made me smile, nearly as much as it made Hugo frown. He still had reservations about their future, and made no secret of it.

  “Will Archie and Frances wish to be married soon, do you think?” I asked Hugo, sleep forgotten. Frances was still too young to get married, in my opinion, but under the circumstances, she would be safest with Archie, who loved her and would take care of her as no one else had. She was like a wounded bird that needed all the tenderness it could get until it felt safe to leave the nest and fly again.

  “I’ve asked Archie to wait,” Hugo replied sourly. “There’s no rush, not anymore.”

  “Is there some other reason you want them to wait?” I could tell that Hugo was holding something back. He had that closed look that meant he was up to something.

  “I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for certain, but I’ve asked Gideon Warburton to look into Frances’s financial situation. As Finch’s widow, she stands to inherit it all, but her father-in-law is claiming abandonment, and is trying to have the marriage posthumously annulled. If he succeeds, Frances will get nothing, but if he doesn’t, she will be a very rich woman. I think it would be best to wait and see what transpires before she remarries. Having her marry another will only strengthen the elder Finch’s case.”

  “And how do you think Archie would feel if Frances was suddenly a rich widow?” I asked. Archie might feel emasculated by their uneven status, uncomfortable at being supported by his wife.

  “Archie is no fool. He might feel a little awkward at first, but he’ll learn to live with it. He would be good at running the estate.”

  I had to admit that a small part of me hoped that Hugo’s plans would not come to fruition. I hated the thought of parting with Frances and Archie. They were part of my family, part of me. I was about to share my feelings with Hugo when there was a knock at the door.

  “I’ll get it,” Hugo said as he gave me a kiss and got out of bed. “Get some rest while Val is sleeping.

  I couldn’t see who was at the door, but I heard Elodie’s voice. “You have a visitor, milord. I’ve asked him to wait in the parlor.”

  Chapter 59

  Hugo briefly wondered if he was making a mistake by walking into the parlor unarmed. Who would be calling at such an early hour while everyone was still abed? He wasn’t expecting anyone, nor was there anyone he particularly wished to see. Everyone he loved was already there: safe and sound for the moment. He hadn’t heard the sound of carriage wheels, so the visitor either came on foot, or on horseback, which was usually the sign of the person being a messenger.

  Hugo pushed open the door. A man of medium height and build was standing with his back to the room, gazing out the window, his hands clasped behind his back. He wasn’t wearing a wig, and his coat was travel-stained and dusty, as were his boots. Hugo experienced a momentary sense of de-ja-vu as the man slowly turned, his tired face splitting into a warm smile. How many times had Hugo seen him look just like that: tired and travel-stained, but full of inner light that shone out of his dark eyes? The man walked toward Hugo, his gait slow, as if uncertain of his welcome. At any other time he would have been welcome, but not today, not when his arrival meant only one thing.

  “Hugo,” he said as he drew Hugo into a brotherly hug. “I hope you don’t mind me coming so early. I just couldn’t wait a moment longer. I arrived in Le Havre yesterday and have been traveling since. Where is he?”

  Hugo sank into a chair, his legs suddenly weak. He knew this moment would come, tried to prepare for it, but now that it was here, all he wanted to do was delay it.

  “He doesn’t know,” Hugo said. “I suppose I should have prepared him, but I wasn’t sure you’d come, and didn’t want him to be disappointed. Sit down, Nick. Have you eaten? Why don’t we have some breakfast first? How is Anne?”

  Nicholas Marsden shrugged noncommittally. “Anne is the same, I suppose. Her body is broken, but her mind is as sharp as ever, and so is her tongue. I go days without seeing her; can’t take her bitterness, I suppose. It’s been a relief to be away from her these past few weeks.”

  “Does she know where you’d gone?” Hugo asked carefully. Few women would be eager to welcome their husband’s bastard into their household, even if they couldn’t bear children of their own. A constant reminder of a torrid love affair that bore fruit would be painful to even the most accepting of women, and Anne was nothing if not temperamental.

  “She does. You know I always told her the truth. She wasn’t best pleased, but she understood. She’ll be good to him, Hugo; you have my word.” Nicholas looked away for a moment, his face suffused with color. “Luke said he looks just like Margaret.”

  “He does. He’s the spitting image of her, but some say he looks like me,” Hugo said with a teasing smile.

  “What is he like, this boy of mine?”

  “His temperament is nothing like his mother’s,” Hugo replied, trying to think of a way to describe Jem in the most favorable light. “Jem is sweet and kind, and very vulnerable. He doesn’t have the same sense of self-preservation or the desire to always grab for more like Margaret did.”

  “Is there something of me?” Nicholas asked, his eyes desperately eager to hear that he’d made some mark on the boy even without being a part of his life.

  “He’s selfless and brave. And stubborn as a mule,” Hugo replied with a grin. “He’s loyal to a fault, and quick to learn when he’s not trying to get out of doing his lessons.”

  Nicholas’s face split into a happy grin. “So, I did give him something of myself,” he observed.

  “Yes, your legendary love of food,” Hugo countered. “That child would sell his soul for a treat.”

  “Tell me he’s never been hungry, Hugo,” Nicholas pleaded. “Tell me he hasn’t suffered.”

  “No one’s life is without some hardship, Nick, you know that; but Jem has been loved, and cared for. I’ve made sure of that, and not just for Margaret’s sake.”

  “You knew he was mine?”

  “Not until recently, but I suspected as much, despite what Margaret claimed.”

  “Did you think he was yours?” Nicholas asked carefully.

  “Jem is not mine, but I often wished he was. I love him like a son, Nick.”

  “And n
ow you have a daughter,” Nick mused. “Our children could be promised to each other. It’d be a fine match.”

  “I am not even going to justify that with a response,” Hugo said. He assumed Nicholas was joking, but with Nick you never really knew. Hugo could just imagine Neve’s reaction to the news of a betrothal between a nine-year-old and a four-month-old baby.

  “I wish to see him, Hugo. I can’t eat or drink until I meet my boy.”

  “I understand,” Hugo replied. His stomach felt hollow as he yanked the bell-pull to summon Elodie.

  “Did you want some refreshment, sir?” she asked as she appeared a few moments later. “Cook has some fresh buns, just out of the oven.”

  “No, Elodie, not just yet. Would you please ask Jem to come in?” Hugo felt as if he would choke on the words, but there was nothing he could do to stop the inevitable from happening. He had no right. His own needs did not factor in this. Jem deserved to know his father, and to benefit from all that entailed. But how Hugo would miss him.

  Nicholas jumped to his feet, unable to sit in the face of deep emotion. He began pacing the room; his eyes glued to the door as if he was afraid to miss the moment when his son would walk into the room. Hugo felt Nick’s elation when Jem poked his face into the parlor, his eyes round with curiosity. He inched into the room, wary of the stranger.

  “Did you send for me, your lordship?” Jem looked tousled as ever, with a bun still in his hand, probably for later. He quickly stuffed the bread into his pocket when he noticed the stranger staring at him as if he’d never seen a boy before.

  “Jem, come in. This is Master Nicholas Marsden, Luke Marsden’s older brother. He’s come all the way from England to see you.”

  Jem’s expression transformed from one of idle curiosity to fear. No one had crossed the river, much less the sea to come and see him. Why would Luke Marsden’s brother take such an interest?

  “Would you like me to leave you two alone?” Hugo asked. He knew he should stay for Jem’s sake, but he didn’t wish to witness this private moment which would change all their lives.

  “Please stay,” Nicholas replied, his eyes on Jem. He was drinking the boy in, his face going through a myriad of emotions as he beheld the son he never knew he had. Nicholas had always had an expressive face, like Jem, but now he looked downright overcome. He drew a little closer to Jem, but refrained from getting too close for fear of spooking the child, who already looked as if he were ready to flee. Hugo couldn’t help noticing the resemblance between the two, not so much in features, but in facial expressions as father and son gazed upon each other.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jeremiah,” Nicholas said as he held out his hand to Jem.

  “Likewise, sir,” Jem replied politely, clearly confused.

  “May I call you Jem?”

  “Sure. Everyone else does,” Jem replied as he took a step backward, just in case.

  “Jem, I knew your mother a long time ago,” Nick began. He was sweating, Hugo noticed, beads of sweat gathering on his brow as he searched for the right words. Poor man, this couldn’t be easy for him.

  “I knew her too,” Jem replied as he glanced toward the door, marking his escape route.

  “I’m not going about this correctly,” Nick said as he took out a handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. “Jem, what I am trying very clumsily to say is that I am your father.”

  Jem just stared at the man as if he’d suddenly sprouted a third eye or a pair of horns. He tilted his head to the side, studying Nicholas for signs of insanity. “My father was a groom. He left before I was born.”

  “No, Jemmy, your mother only said that to keep me away because I was married to another, and she wanted to punish me by denying me my boy. Had I known you were mine, I’d have come right away. I’d have taken care of you, especially after your mother died. That’s why I’m here now. I’ve come to take you home, son.”

  “This is my home,” Jem protested. “I want to stay here.”

  Jem was fighting back tears, but his lip was quivering, and his small body was as rigid as a pike. He’d given up on the door, and was moving toward Hugo, looking for protection from this man who wanted to tear him away from everything he held dear. “I want to stay with his lordship,” he added in a small voice as he grabbed Hugo’s hand the way a drowning man grabs a piece of flotsam, thinking it will save him.

  “Jem needs a little time to think this over,” Hugo chimed in. “Don’t you, Jemmy? We can all have breakfast, and then you and Master Marsden can go for a walk, or just talk awhile and get to know each other. Nothing has to be decided today. Or tomorrow.”

  “Of course,” Nicholas responded, sensing that Hugo was speaking directly to him rather than Jem. “I will stay in Paris for as long as it takes,” he added.

  “We have plenty of room, so you are welcome to stay here,” Hugo suggested.

  “May I go now?” Jem asked, his voice quivering.

  “Won’t you join us for breakfast, Jemmy?” Hugo asked.

  “No.” Jem bolted from the room before anyone could say anything more.

  “Is he afraid of me?” Nicholas asked as he slumped into a chair.

  “He’s not afraid of you; he’s afraid of change. He doesn’t want to leave us, Nick. We’re his family.”

  “I know. I will bide my time until he is ready then.”

  Hugo just nodded, unable to speak.

  Chapter 60

  Hugo found Jem an hour later, sitting on a bale of hay in the stables. The horses snorted and rolled their eyes, as if sensing Jem’s agitation. Hugo noticed that Jem’s lips were moving, as if he were having an argument with himself, but the boy froze as soon as the door opened, his body stiffening with tension. He relaxed slightly when he saw Hugo, but his expression remained closed, his eyes wary, as if Hugo had betrayed him somehow.

  “May I sit with you?” Hugo asked as he approached Jem.

  “Suit yourself,” Jem answered. He wasn’t normally so surly, but he was angry and needed someone to take it out on. Hugo sat down and leaned against the rough wood of the wall. The stables were dim, and the smell of horses and hay filled his nostrils. Hugo briefly reflected that both were comforting. He also used to hide out in the stables when he was a boy and his father was angry with him. Something about being around horses brought him peace. It was Archie’s favorite refuge as well. Jem normally went to the kitchen. He liked the warmth and bustle of the kitchen, and the women always took pity on him and comforted him with bits of food. The fact that Jem wasn’t hungry did not bode well. The poor boy wasn’t merely upset; he was devastated.

  “You knew, didn’t you?” Jem finally burst out, his voice full of accusation. “You knew all along and said nothing. And now you will let him take me away. Well, I’m not going. I’ll run away if I must. I survived in London, and I will survive here.” Jem wiped away angry tears, loath to give Hugo the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

  “Jemmy, I only found out a short while ago. I knew your mother was eh… close to Nicholas, but I didn’t know who your father was. She never told me the truth either. Your mother had her pride, and she wished to do things her own way -– until the very end.”

  Jem looked even more crushed, forcing Hugo to realize that he’d just essentially told the boy that his mother left him to live in poverty and squalor rather than give his father the satisfaction of knowing that she bore his child. She could have told the truth before she died, ensuring that Jem had a future, but she remained silent, nursing her bitterness toward Nicholas and not doing what was best for her son.

  “I won’t go,” Jem repeated, baiting Hugo.

  “Jem, can we talk man to man?” Hugo asked.

  “Well, I’m not a girl, am I?” Jem retorted angrily.

  “That’s not really what I meant. I meant that you have to put aside your childish hurt and talk to me like an adult. You are nearly ten, and I wish to speak to you as I would speak to a grown up.”

  “All right then -– speak,” Jem
relented. He turned to face Hugo. His shoulders were squared and his eyes downcast, but the defiance of a few minutes ago was gone, replaced by silent resignation.

  “Jeremiah,” Hugo began, “you are almost a grown man, and so you must learn to think like one. A child thinks of the here and now; a man thinks of the future and the consequences of his actions. I know that you are happy with us, and we love having you as part of our family, but you must think practically, as a man would. You know that you will always have a place with me, but you are not my natural-born son, so I cannot offer you anything more than a position in my household. I cannot bestow my title on you, nor leave you my estate. I must save those privileges for my own son. You have a father who is a gentleman, and who’s traveled here to meet you as soon as he learned of your existence. All he asks is that you give him a chance to love you and give you what’s yours by birth. Nicholas is not titled, but he is wealthy and well-connected. He will give you a good education, a comfortable life, and a secure future. You will inherit his estate, and in turn, bequeath it to your own son. Now, isn’t that better than being my secretary?”

  Jem raised his eyes to meet Hugo’s. “I don’t understand,” he mumbled. “Master Marsden wasn’t wed to my mam. He said so himself. So, how can he claim me as his son?”

  “Master Marsden can legitimize you. It’s what he wants.”

  “What about his own family?” Jem asked. He was clearly worried about displacing other children.

  “Jem, Nicholas’s wife had a riding accident some years ago. She’s an invalid who can’t bear children. You are Nicholas’s only child, and he wants you as his son and heir. But, please don’t think that this is his only goal. He loved your mother, and he wants to love you. He needs you, Jem.”