Mr Mason, lawyer, turned out to be an elderly gentleman wearing a neat, black suit. He rose and made his bow. Elizabeth nodded politely and glanced questioningly at his companion who was, to Elizabeth’s confusion, a middle-aged woman in a charcoal-grey dress and with her hair pinned in a neat bun. A woman? What is this about?
Elizabeth introduced Mr Thornton as her friend, the woman was named as a Mrs Campbell, then they all sat.
Mr Mason cleared his throat. ‘Mrs Milford—if indeed, you are Mrs Milford—thank you for agreeing to see me today.’
What? What a strange thing to say!
Charles had also noted it. ‘Mr Mason, why should you question Mrs Milford’s identity?’ He sounded cross, and Elizabeth’s heart warmed. Charles was championing her!
‘I apologise, to both of you, but my business specifically relates to Mrs Milford’s identity in a matter of law.’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘Pray allow me to explain.’ He untied a leather folio that had been tucked under his arm and removed a paper—a letter, Elizabeth could see. ‘On April 12th, less than two weeks ago, I received this letter from Mrs Campbell—’ he nodded towards his companion ‘—who is the housekeeper at Glenbrook Hall.’
Glenbrook Hall? The name sounded vaguely familiar. Elizabeth could not immediately recall where she had heard it before. What has this to do with Papa?
‘One moment, Mr Mason,’ she said. ‘Are you acting for my father, General Hunter?’
‘I am not,’ he said but did not go further.
Elizabeth glanced at Charles in confusion. He shrugged, equally nonplussed.
‘Very well, carry on,’ she said. What on earth is going on?
‘Glenbrook Hall is the ancestral home of Baron Cowlem,’ he said, making her gasp. Jack’s father!
‘My husband’s family broke all contact with him twenty-two years ago, Mr Mason,’ she said coldly. ‘The baron wrote to say that he was cutting Jack and his descendants from the family. He was true to his word.’
‘That may have been his stated intention at the time,’ said Mr Mason, seemingly unperturbed, ‘but Baron Cowlem did not amend his will to that effect.’
Elizabeth gaped. ‘But Jack’s father was so angry with him! The letter Jack received was worded in the strongest possible terms.’
Mr Mason nodded sadly. ‘I have practised law for almost fifty years, and I have seen many situations like this. Sometimes people regret what they say and do in the heat of the moment, and they try to put things right in other ways.’
Mrs Campbell spoke up. ‘The master was sad and lonely after his son died, followed by his wife. There were rumours about your having a child, but the master was never able to find you to verify them.’
‘The will states that Glenbrook Hall, the lands, and Baron Cowlem’ s fortune must go to the closest legitimate heir of his line.’
There it is. ‘Legitimate?’
Mrs Campbell was still focused on Baron Cowlem’s search. ‘We had all heard that Master Jack had eloped with a young lady to France. That was all we knew, although it was said she was the daughter of a general. After more than twenty years, no-one had any hope of finding her, until now.’
‘Why now?’ asked Charles. ‘What has led you here today?’
‘That was Mrs Campbell’s doing,’ said Mr Mason.
The woman nodded. ‘Glenbrook Hall is not far from Chadcombe, the country residence of the Earl of Shalford. The countess, her brother-in-law, and her friend paid a visit to the house a few weeks ago.’
Elizabeth nodded. ‘I remember them going to visit some neighbour. But… does the baron yet live?’
‘Baron Cowlem died last year.’ Mrs Campbell picked up her story. ‘The young lady who accompanied Lady Shalford—milady called her Juliana—had a striking resemblance to the Milford family. I noticed it as soon as I saw her, but it was only when someone addressed her by her full title, Miss Milford, that I realised she could be Master Jack’s daughter.’
‘Mrs Campbell knew of my responsibility as executor of the will, for I had visited Glenbrook Hall to make some bequests from Baron Cowlem to his servants. She sought my direction from the steward,’ added Mr Mason, ‘and wrote to me.’
Elizabeth could scarcely take it in. Could Juliana actually be Baron Cowlem’s heir? Oh, I do hope so! She, who has been innocent in all of this, should not be punished for my sins! Then she remembered. ‘Mr Mason, earlier, you used the word legitimate. Can you explain what that means, please?’
She dreaded the answer, but she had to know.
Mr Mason looked a little uncomfortable. ‘My enquiries have raised a question as to whether, in fact, you are the lady who eloped with the Honourable John Milford, known as Jack, and secondly, whether you were actually married afterwards.’
‘Well, I can certainly answer to the first point,’ Charles interjected. ‘I knew both Mr Milford and the then Miss Hunter at the time. I can confirm that it was well known that they… er… that they disappeared together, and that this lady is that Miss Hunter.’
Elizabeth dipped her head, feeling the shame of it sting her. But she must be strong for Juliana.
‘And would you attest to that in writing?’
‘I would, and if needed, I could put you in touch with others who were there at that time.’
‘That will not be necessary. I am happy to take the sworn word of a gentleman.’
‘Actually,’ Charles mused, ‘I would prefer if you did seek another witness. Much as I would wish to avoid distressing Mrs Milford any further, the fact that I am her close friend must mean that I may not be seen as wholly neutral in this matter.’
They spent a few moments discussing who might be a suitable alternative, and finally agreed on a discreet dowager who Elizabeth vaguely remembered from her London days.
‘Now,’ said Mr Mason, ‘as to the matter of your marriage—’
Elizabeth put her hands to her face. The moment had finally come. She squared her shoulders. ‘Mr Mason… I regret to say… that is… I am not sure that we were ever properly married.’
There. It was out. She was a wanton woman who had borne a child without the church’s blessing. Her daughter was a bastard before God, and she had, as Papa had so bluntly put it, foisted Juliana onto society. She turned her head to look at Charles. His expression was unreadable.
‘Ah.’ Mr Mason sounded disappointed. ‘The will is clear. Only a legitimate heir can inherit. There is no provision for illegitimacy.’ He began to tidy up his folio, returning Mrs Campbell’s letter to it and tying the leather thongs to hold it closed.
‘Wait.’ Charles held up a hand. He looked at Elizabeth. ‘You said properly married. Can you explain what you mean?’
Elizabeth frowned. She really did not wish to prolong this embarrassing encounter any further.
‘Please,’ Charles added softly. ‘I know this is difficult, but it may be important.’
She trusted him. ‘Very well.’ She began the story, at first haltingly, then with increasing fluency. Throughout the telling, Charles’s eyes never left hers.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
They had left the ball immediately after supper, sneaking away through the gardens to where Jack’s coach awaited. He had been proud of his foresight, booking them a passage on the boat to France for the next evening, by which point, he assured her, they would be safely married. They had reached the small parish church on the outskirts of Dover early the next evening, following a gruelling journey, and Jack had anxiously knocked the door.
The housekeeper had taken one look at them—Elizabeth still in her ballgown covered by Jack’s cloak—and shaken her head disapprovingly. Ten minutes later, they had been back in the coach, following a lecture from the priest on their sinfulness, and the realisation that they could not legally be married, as they had no special licence. Knowing it was too late to go back, Elizabeth had cried bitterly all the way to the docks.
Following the sea voyage, which was marred by Elizabeth’s being dreadfully seasick, they
had travelled from Ostend to the Austrian Netherlands and northern France, where Jack had joined his regiment. They had not shared a bed, as neither of them wished to anticipate their wedding vows.
Under French law, they then discovered that they could marry, but that only a ‘juror’ priest was approved to perform the ceremony. These priests were those who had signed the Civil Constitution, against the wishes of the Pope, and there were none to be found in the area at that time. In the meantime, they had contented themselves with a civil service in l’Hôtel de Ville in Brussels, where they had signed a register in front of witnesses but had said not one prayer. After that, they had lived together as man and wife, with Jack constantly seeking a juror priest who would marry them in church. Within weeks, and before he could find a suitable priest, Jack had died as part of the ill-fated Flanders campaign. By that point, Elizabeth had already been expecting their baby. Juliana.
Elizabeth stopped, feeling as though a tremendous burden had been lifted from her. Finally, the truth was known—at least to someone. A lawyer, a housekeeper, and Charles. Plucking up courage, she glanced at him. How would he react?
Charles was not looking at her. ‘Well?’ he said to Mr Mason. ‘What say you?’
Mr Mason shook his head. ‘It is all highly irregular. I would need documentary evidence of this civil marriage.’
Charles leaned forwards. ‘But would it suffice?’
Mr Mason eyed him levelly. ‘If there were documentary evidence, and it was clear that a legal marriage was contracted before Miss Milford’s birth, then it is likely that she would be the heir.’ He looked at Elizabeth. ‘Do you have such evidence?’
Do I?‘I am not sure. I have a box of Jack’s papers, but I have not looked at them for years.’
‘If I may be permitted to read them…?’
‘But they are in Brussels!’
‘Ah.’ The lawyer sighed. ‘You should know that another claimant—a distant relative of the baron—has come forward, and unless there is evidence to the contrary, I must uphold their claim.’
‘But, it will take time for me to return to Brussels and get the papers.’ If I even have them!
‘How much time can you give?’ Charles eyed the lawyer intently.
‘Two months,’ said Mr Mason, ‘and no longer. I must behave with fairness towards everyone involved.’
‘But you also have a duty to identify the true heir,’ Charles pressed. ‘And these are unusual circumstances. Mrs Milford may have to return to Brussels on the eve of war. Who is to say what might happen? Travel is difficult in times of emergency, and it may become impossible to safely send documents through a messenger.’
Mr Mason pursed his lips, then nodded towards Elizabeth. ‘Two months, unless war breaks out. If there is an emergency, you may have until the end of July.’
The small clock on the mantel began to chime the hour. ‘Mr Thornton!’ Elizabeth touched his arm. ‘You are late for your appointment.’
Charles frowned. ‘True! It is unlike me to be late, so I hope my mother will forgive me.’ He rose. ‘Mrs Milford, may I have a word with you in private?’
‘Of course.’ Mr Mason and Mrs Campbell offered to step outside, but Elizabeth would not hear of it. ‘No, stay you here, I shall return directly.’
She led Charles to Charlotte’s morning-room, at the back of the house. As soon as the door was closed, he took both of her hands in his. ‘Tell me you are not thinking of travelling to Brussels yourself!’ he urged. ‘It is not safe!’
She frowned. ‘But, of course, I must go! You understand Mr Mason’s meaning—proof of the civil marriage is needed for Juliana to have her birthright.’ She frowned. ‘I should not tell her anything yet, for it all may come to naught.’
‘I shall go in your place,’ he said.
‘Impossible!’ she protested. ‘My maid, Sandrine, knows how careful I am with my privacy. There is no way that she—even with a letter seeming to come from me—would allow a strange man to access my most private papers! It must be me!’
His brow creased. ‘I do not like it.’
‘I must ask you something. It is the same question I asked earlier.’ She swallowed. ‘Now that you know all the sordid details of my past, including the fact that I was not married, why are you still trying to help me? Why are you still behaving as if you are my friend?’
He made an exasperated sound. ‘And I shall reply in the same way. Why should we not be friends?’
She stared at him in puzzlement. ‘But Juliana was born out of wedlock! She is—’ She could not say ‘bastard’ aloud. ‘She is illegitimate.’
‘Indeed, she is not! Have we not just had a conversation in that room about establishing proof that your daughter is, in fact, legitimate?’
‘Yes, but that is a legal technicality.’
‘My dear, the very word illegitimate relates to her legal status. Nothing more.’
‘But surely there is a moral dimension?’
He shrugged. ‘London is full of aristocrats of dubious morality. It is irrelevant.’
‘But, if the truth were known, would she be received? I should hate for her to suffer the cut direct.’
‘You would both be received. You made a civil marriage. Your daughter would be legal heiress to a property and a fortune—of what size we do not know. She is also prettily-behaved, if a little opinionated.’ He laughed at her immediate attempt to spring to Juliana’s defence, ‘Yes, I know, and I find her confidence endearing, as well as being beautiful, elegant, and accomplished. She would be received everywhere. As would her mother.’
‘Truly? But is London society not the strictest, the most judgemental?’
‘Well, yes,’ he conceded, ‘so it would be good to find proof of your legal marriage. You seem surprised? There is much more flexibility than you may realise. Remember, at twenty, your chaperone had to strike fear into your heart. She may have exaggerated a little. Why, you only have to look at me to see who may be accepted, if the family is well-connected.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘My grandmother was a Negress,’ he replied. ‘Surely, you must have noticed?’
‘Well, yes,’ she returned, ‘but on the continent, no-one thinks anything of that.’
‘And so it would be for you and Juliana.’
Elizabeth stared at him blankly. We could be accepted? The very notion seemed miraculous, impossible. And yet…
‘I am going to Brussels just as soon as I can make the arrangements.’ Even she heard the new tone in her voice. My fear is gone. In its place, determination.
He heard it. ‘Good for you!’ His gaze was filled with admiration. ‘I shall accompany you.’
‘You will not,’ she returned, without hesitation. ‘This is my mission and mine alone.’ She squeezed his hands. ‘Don’t you see? For more than twenty years, I have lived in terror, afraid to let anyone close, afraid that the secret would come out. Now, finally, I have the means to change everything. For Juliana’s sake. The task is mine.’
He shook his head. ‘I see it, and I admire your strength. Carrying that burden all these years would have broken a weaker soul. But you can do this task and yet still have me by your side.’
She was not having it. ‘I must do this alone. It is a form of penance, or atonement. I thank you for your kindness.’ She withdrew her hands from his. ‘But I am not worthy of you.’
His brow creased in confusion. ‘What are you saying?’
‘If I can restore my reputation, and Juliana’s, then I shall come back to you, in hope that you will still wish to be my friend. But now that you know the truth, it is impossible to carry on as we were.’
‘Tosh!’ he returned bluntly. ‘As if I care about whether you can find a piece of paper to prove anything. I know you,’ he added softly. ‘I see the real you, and I choose to stand with you.’
She shook her head. ‘No. I shall not be moved on this. I appreciate your words—and the honourable sentiment behind them—but this is not about wh
at you think of me. It is about what I think of myself. Until I have completed my task, I shall not consider myself worthy of anyone’s friendship. More than twenty years of deceiving my own daughter, of ignoring the harm I did to my Papa—these things cannot be washed away in a day.’ She took a deep breath. ‘For now, I should like to discontinue our friendship, while I try and see if I can mend the situation, even a little.’
‘I see.’ His face was a blank mask. All emotion had left it. ‘And you will not be persuaded?’ She shook her head. ‘Then I shall take my leave of you. Good day, Mrs Milford.’
And before she could respond, he had turned on his heel and gone. Almost, she called him back—she could not bear for him to be out of charity with her—but thought better of it. She could not change her mind, no matter how much it hurt. She did not deserve him, and she knew it. Whether there could be a future for them depended on many things, not least whether she could restore her own sense of worthiness.
And so, she smothered the pangs of loss she was feeling, the desire to run after him and beg his forgiveness. Instead, she squared her shoulders and returned to the parlour.
CHAPTER TWELVE
By the time Juliana and the others returned from their walk, Elizabeth was busy, making lists and thinking of letters that had to be written. She needed to inform Sandrine, her maid in Brussels, that she would return in the near future. Her friends there would be pleased to see her, she knew. Discreetly, she would drop a question into a couple of her letters, asking if someone wished to obtain documentary proof of a civil marriage from many years ago, how they might go about it. She was not at all sure there would be anything of use among Jack’s papers.
Charlotte left to speak to Cook, and Elizabeth was alone with Juliana. What can I tell her? She paced up and down the drawing-room for a few moments, conscious of Juliana’s growing bewilderment. ‘Juliana,’ she said finally. ‘There are things I cannot tell you. Things that you want to know. Information you ought to know. But I simply can’t. Not yet.’ She sighed. ‘I promise I shall tell you all of it, even the parts I am ashamed of. But not yet and not here.’
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