The Masquerade

by Brenda Joyce

  “You are our only hope!” Lizzie cried. “You are Anna’s only hope! You cannot possibly turn us away now, in our time of desperate need. No one could be so heartless.”

  Eleanor met her gaze. “I did not say I would turn you away. Look at me, child,” she said to Anna.

  Anna looked up.

  “Does the father know?”

  Anna shook her head wordlessly.

  Eleanor now looked at Lizzie. “Who is the father?”

  Lizzie stiffened. “Aunt Eleanor, it doesn’t matter! Anna is in love with Thomas. We will find the baby a good home.”

  “I happen to disagree with you—assuming, of course, as I am, that the father is a nobleman.” Eleanor tilted up Anna’s chin. “Or did you bed some farmer?”

  She shook her head, the tears falling in a stream.

  “Anna loves Thomas!” Lizzie cried in alarm. “The father does not need to know! The fewer who know about this the better—there must be absolute secrecy—”

  “The father should be told,” Eleanor said, her tone sharp. “Maybe he will take the child in. God knows, he would hardly be the first nobleman to raise a bastard alongside his legitimate offspring.”

  Anna began to shake her head. “No! He can’t know!”

  “Anna will be ruined,” Lizzie cried. “Surely you realize that! Once the father knows, the truth will come out—there will be gossip, rumors, pointed fingers, whispers and accusations!”

  Anna wiped her face. “Aunt Eleanor, we cannot tell him, not ever! I love Thomas! Surely you wish for me to marry in the fall? Please, do not insist that we tell the father, please! It will ruin everything!”

  Eleanor slowly turned back to face Anna. Anna now gripped both of her aunt’s hands, her gaze desperate and pleading. Lizzie prayed for a miracle.

  Slowly, Eleanor said, “I have no desire to ruin your life, Anna. We have all made mistakes. Unfortunately, sometimes the price one must pay is a terrible one.”

  Anna cried, “But I have already paid!” She covered her bulging tummy with her hands. “Surely I have suffered enough!”

  “I have grown somewhat fond of you, Anna, in spite of your terrible vanity.”

  Anna jerked, eyes wide, the tears ceasing, her expression one of hope.

  “Have you learned your lesson?” Eleanor asked grimly. “Or will you soon grow tired of Thomas and proceed to behave in an equally shameless manner?”

  Anna gasped. “I should never grow tired of Thomas, Aunt Eleanor! I know my behavior was wrong. I am very ashamed and I cannot explain it! Oh, I am so tired of this dilemma! I wish I had never met this man. I wish I wasn’t in my condition. I wish I was already married and living with Thomas in Derbyshire!”

  “Wishing will hardly undo what you have done,” Eleanor said. “Frankly, I am afraid for you.”

  Lizzie did not like the sound of that. “If you will help us, we can manage this indiscretion, Aunt Eleanor. With your help, Anna can have the child in absolute secrecy and leave here to marry Thomas. We will find her child a wonderful home. But we need your help.”

  Eleanor met her gaze. “You are a very loyal sister, Elizabeth—and you are very brave.”

  Lizzie had no interest in flattery now. “Will you help us? Surely you do not wish to jeopardize Anna’s marriage.”

  “You may stay,” Eleanor said, “and I will help you in every possible way. But there is one condition.”

  “Anything,” Lizzie cried, barely able to believe that their terrible dilemma had been solved.

  Eleanor took Anna’s hand. “I insist upon knowing who the father is, Anna. That is the condition for you and your sister to remain here until after the child is born. However, I will not divulge his identity to anyone, just as I will keep your secret.”

  Anna’s eyes were huge as she stared at Eleanor.

  Lizzie began to protest.

  Anna glanced at Lizzie. Then she hung her head, her cheeks flooding with crimson color. Her words were a whisper, almost impossible to hear.

  So Lizzie leaned forward.

  “Tyrell de Warenne,” Anna said.

  6

  An Unspeakable Solution

  Lizzie knew she had misheard.

  “Anna?”

  Eleanor’s gasp filled the room. “Tyrell de Warenne is the father?” she cried in astonishment.

  Anna lifted her head, her expression pleading as she gazed directly at Lizzie. “I’m sorry,” she began, hugging herself.

  The floor tilted beneath her feet. Lizzie staggered from the shock, too stunned now to even think.

  “Elizabeth? Leclerc! Bring salts!” Eleanor demanded.

  Abruptly, Lizzie sat down.

  And in that instant, Lizzie’s mind began to function. Tyrell de Warenne was the father of Anna’s child? No, this could not be! This was a mistake, because she was the one who loved him—her sister had a dozen other suitors—this was a huge, monstrous mistake.

  The room came back into focus. Lizzie saw Anna standing beyond Eleanor, staring at her, ashen.

  Lizzie wet her lips. It was hard to speak, as if she had lost her voice. “Anna?” This had to be a mistake—her sister would never do this to her.

  Anna’s gaze had filled with tears. “I’m so sorry!”

  And it hit her then, the brutal, cruel truth. Anna had been in Tyrell’s bed and now she was having his child.

  The pain that stabbed through her breast was indescribable; there was so much hurt, but there was also the acute knifing of treachery and betrayal. All this time, while she had been mooning over Tyrell, madly and foolishly, Anna had been his lover.

  Lizzie cried out, her hand on her heart, and Anna looked away. Heartache consumed her entire being—how she understood the real meaning of that word now. She closed her eyes, but unwelcome images invaded her mind, heated intimate images of her sister and Tyrell.

  Yet how could this be? Tyrell de Warenne was a gentleman—he would never seduce an innocent young lady.

  “I am calling the physician!” Eleanor cried in alarm. “Leclerc! Summon Dr. FitzRobert instantly!”

  Lizzie tried to tell her aunt that would not be necessary, as no doctor could heal her broken heart. Instead, the words tumbled forth, heated and accusatory. “How could you?” Lizzie cried, staring at her sister. And suddenly she was outraged. “You had a dozen admirers! Why him?”

  Anna shook her head, her mouth trembling, but she had folded her arms protectively around herself. “You would not understand. Oh, Lizzie, I have rued the day!”

  Eleanor stood up slowly and glanced back and forth between the two sisters.

  “I am not well,” Anna cried. “I will go lie down!” She turned to flee the room.

  Lizzie leapt up. “No! How dare you run from me now? You will face me! I insist upon an explanation!”

  Anna froze, her back to Lizzie, her shoulders shaking with tension.

  Lizzie did not move, trembling with her rage. Every man adored Anna. Why would Tyrell be any exception? And Lizzie felt the tears tracking down her face. Of course Tyrell would want Anna. But surely he would offer marriage—surely he would not ruin her this way.

  “What is happening?” Eleanor asked very quietly. “What am I missing?”

  Stiffly, so stiffly that her lips failed to move, Lizzie said, “I wish a word with Anna—alone.”

  Eleanor hesitated. Then she left, closing the door behind her and Leclerc. Anna turned. “I never wanted you to find out. I can’t explain—it just happened. Lizzie! Don’t look at me that way!”

  Lizzie shook her head. “All this time I have been so in love with him, acting like a fool, and the two of you have been lovers?”

  “No!” Anna cried. “It wasn’t that way! There was only one time, Lizzie. It was that night at the All Hallow’s Eve ball.”

  And that entire night replayed itself with astonishing speed in Lizzie’s mind.

  Tyrell’s smoldering stare, his determined approach, his bold proposition, his staggering desire. Meet me in the west gardens…a
t midnight.

  Anna in her rum-soaked gown, begging her to change costumes so she could stay to enjoy the rest of the evening. Surely you don’t mind, Lizzie? Surely you do not wish to stay?

  But even at night, even with switched costumes, Tyrell could not have mistaken the sisters. Lizzie knew it for a fact. Anna was too beautiful and bewitching to ever be mistaken for anyone.

  “Does it even matter? You never had a chance with him, Lizzie. It is all in the past, isn’t it? Lizzie!” Anna suddenly pleaded. “I know now that I should have gone home when Mama told me to. I have dreaded this day so much! I never wanted you to know. Can’t you please forgive me? I have suffered enough!” She sank into a chair, tears falling now.

  Lizzie didn’t care about her sister’s feelings. Her temples throbbed so badly she was afraid her skull might split. “What happened?”

  Anna hesitated.

  Lizzie clenched her fists, trying to breathe, but the room was hot and airless. “Anna, you must tell me. I insist!”

  Anna avoided Lizzie’s eyes. Her cheeks remained flushed with shame. “I walked into the gardens for some air because I was so warm from dancing all night. He was there. I knew who he was immediately. And he came directly to me! I was so flattered. He did not even speak. He pulled me into his arms and began kissing me without a single word.” Anna looked up, her eyes glistening. “I had never been kissed like that before! I was stunned—and then I thought he had been secretly admiring me. I was certain he had been admiring me for some time!” Suddenly she was anguished, looking down at her lap. “But then he demanded to know where the real Maid Marian was.”

  Somehow, her anger vanished. He had gone to the gardens to wait for her. When Anna had appeared, in Lizzie’s costume, he had pounced upon her without a single word—and if Lizzie had gone, he would have seized her instead.

  But hadn’t she known when she left that night that fate was handing her a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?

  “I told him the real Maid Marian was gone,” Anna whispered, not daring to meet Lizzie’s eyes now. “Lizzie, I was so overcome with his attention I could not think. I didn’t think about you. I thought he admired me.”

  Lizzie somehow spoke. “You must have realized he was waiting for me!”

  Anna shook her head. “I thought he wanted me,” she whispered.

  And Lizzie then understood. Her sister was accustomed to being pursued and admired, so why would she have thought any differently? Anna had been swept away by Tyrell’s passionate kisses. “He went to the gardens to meet me, not you,” Lizzie managed to say, her own eyes burning with tears. “And the two of you made love.” The mere speaking of the words caused too much pain for Lizzie to bear and she staggered from the weight of it. Her knees buckling, Lizzie sat.

  Anna appeared torn, as if she wanted to rush to her sister and comfort her. “I have never regretted my foolish behavior more. Lizzie, I have never been sorrier about anything. It was only one night, and it was a long time ago. Please, Lizzie, let’s just forget about it!” And finally she went to Lizzie and reached for her hand.

  Lizzie jerked away. “I can’t forget about this.” Suddenly she could see them, almost in each other’s arms, there in the moonlight. She spoke through the tears that choked her voice, avoiding looking at her beautiful sister now. “No man has ever looked at me before Tyrell. He is the only man who ever saw me as a woman,” Lizzie said bitterly. “But of course he would prefer you.”

  Anna closed her eyes briefly. “He didn’t want me, Lizzie. Not the way you are thinking,” she whispered.

  Lizzie somehow stood. “I don’t understand. You are carrying his child.”

  Anna stared at her shoes. “He is heir to the earldom of Adare,” she said. “He is wealthy, powerful, handsome. I’ve had so many suitors, but never anyone like him. After he realized I wasn’t you, he became very angry. I still don’t know why I acted as I did. I don’t know why I didn’t let him walk away! I wanted him to kiss me again. I wanted him to fall in love with me. I wasn’t thinking about you, Lizzie. Not even once! All I could think about was being with Tyrell de Warenne.”

  Lizzie stared, still seeing the two of them entwined. “Are you saying he decided to leave…but you somehow made him stay?”

  Anna suddenly lifted her head high. Her eyes sparkled with tears. “Yes, that is what I am saying, Lizzie. He was going to leave, but I threw myself at him.”

  Lizzie gasped.

  “I am not good, sensible or moral, like you and Georgie. I made the worst choice of my life that night. I have spent night after night regretting what I did—and praying you would never discover the truth. I am reprehensible, Lizzie. I know it. But I am your sister. That will never change. Will you ever be able to forgive me?”

  Lizzie closed her eyes. She still loved Anna and she always would, but that did not ease the pain of her treachery. And nothing would ever change the fact that Tyrell was the father of her sister’s child. But how could he have behaved this way? Lizzie had a disturbing sense of dread. “The one thing I feel certain of is that he is a gentleman—that he would not pursue an innocent.”

  Anna sank into a chair, holding her swollen belly, her expression one of misery. She looked away.

  “You’re right,” she mumbled.

  Lizzie stiffened as if shot. And suddenly the spiteful gossip and jealousy of the other ladies in the county came to mind. There’s that Anna Fitzgerald, the wild one.

  “What do you mean?” Lizzie cried, disbelieving.

  Anna began to choke on her tears. “My character is a defective one, I fear,” she muttered.

  Lizzie was reeling. “Anna!”

  Anna bit her lip, and after a long, terrible moment, she nodded. “He was not my first lover, Lizzie.”

  Lizzie went back into shock. She failed to understand her sister at all. But images of their childhood flooded her mind, and in every memory, there was Anna, so beautiful and so universally admired, indulged, adored. Anna could do no wrong in Mama’s eyes and was never chastised or set down; Papa, of course, never intervened. And suddenly she realized how Anna had been indulged and spoiled her entire life, and had now indulged herself without considering right or wrong. She was thoughtless but not amoral; her character was deficient, not defective.

  “I am always sorry afterward,” Anna said. “But, Lizzie, when I am in a gentleman’s arms, I seem to lose the ability to think.”

  Oddly, Lizzie hurt for her sister now.

  “Do you hate me?” Anna whispered.

  “No. I don’t hate you,” Lizzie said, meaning it. “I could never hate you, Anna. As you said, we are sisters. That will never change.”

  Anna stood with an effort and walked bravely to her now. “I love you, Lizzie. And you have helped me through the worst time of my life. I know I made a terrible mistake…but Tyrell is just a dream for you, one that will never come true, so why does it have to matter like this? Please, can’t we both forget this ever happened?”

  Lizzie wished she could forget, but how could she? For every time she looked at her sister, with her hugely swollen belly, she would be reminded of the night of passion Anna and Tyrell had shared.

  But Anna would have the baby—and he or she would be given to a good home. In a few months, she and Anna would return to Raven Hall as if nothing had ever happened and Anna would marry Thomas in the fall. Surely, with the passage of time, this gaping wound would heal and Lizzie would be able to forget.

  Anna took both of her hands. “Please.”

  Anna was her sister. Lizzie had adored and loved her for her entire life. And hadn’t she admired Anna’s coy and brazen manner a hundred times, wishing she could be more like her? Tears filled Lizzie’s eyes. Her heart was broken, but she could not abandon Anna now. And somehow, when she spoke, her tone was firm. “Anna, you’re right. Tyrell was just a foolish dream. I have always known he is not for me. What happened between you two on All Hallow’s Eve is in the past, and it doesn’t matter.”

  Anna’s eye
s filled with relief. “Thank you, Lizzie. Thank you.”

  Almost immediately after Eleanor had learned the truth about Anna’s condition, the family had retired to Eleanor’s country manor in the heart of the Pale. At Glen Barry, real seclusion could be attained, as there were very few callers and as few social invitations. There was only one problem and that was Rory, who came to visit on a single occasion in May before going on to London. He was told that Anna had returned home and Eleanor made it clear that she no longer needed his companionship, as she had that of her niece. He had stayed but a day, clearly perplexed by his aunt’s apparent lack of interest; still, Lizzie did not think he was at all suspicious. His nature remained cheerful, and when he left he did so with a wave and a grin, promising to return later in the summer.

  The child was born in mid-July. Anna had been in labor most of the night, and Lizzie refused to leave her side. The sun had just risen and was creeping into the room through the partially drawn curtains, as the local midwife instructed Anna to try one more time. “Come now, dearie, you cannot stop now! His head is out—”

  “Push, Anna,” Lizzie cried, overcome by the act she was witnessing. She had never been present at a birth before. The babe’s head was visible, and to Lizzie, it was a miracle.

  Anna wept and made another huge effort to birth the child. Lizzie replaced the cool compress on her head. “Do not give up. It will be over soon! Push harder, Anna!”

  “I cannot,” Anna cried, but at that moment the infant was born.

  Lizzie stilled when she saw the baby as the midwife received it, mentally noting two legs, two feet, two arms and two hands. “You have done it, Anna!” she cried, stroking her forehead. “You have a beautiful boy! A son!”

  “Have I? Oh, where is he?” Anna gasped, barely able to hold her eyes open.

  Lizzie smiled at her as the midwife announced, “My lady, you have a fine son, indeed. He looks to be in perfect health.”

  Anna laughed weakly, reaching for Lizzie’s hand.

  Lizzie instinctively tensed as their palms clasped. Lizzie had done her very best to forget Anna’s betrayal since that day when Anna had confessed to the paternity of her child. Yet some small tension had remained; it was impossible that their relationship had not changed. Lizzie would never abandon her sister and would certainly never stop loving her, but sometimes, in her dreams, she was alone in the shadows, looking for her sister and unable to find her. And in those dreams, Tyrell would appear, as seductive as ever, holding his hand out to her.