It is difficult, as a peer of the realm, to be soundly trounced by one’s opponent in public and then show up in their locale—it is like asking for one’s person and reputation to be abused. So, arriving hat-in-hand on Mr. Goodfellow’s doorstep—so to speak—was something better accomplished with some measure of discretion. Your presence and unexpected involvement there changed everything.
Anna sat back and smiled. This letter read as David himself spoke and was so completely different from his essays written each month. His mention of Nathaniel and Robert and Clarinda, and that he knew she would seek their advice, touched her somehow. Some of this was old ground gone over again, but she continued reading.
And now to the real reason for the charade of David Archer.
Just as you protected those endeavors and enterprises which you value with a heavy measure of secrecy and misdirection, so did I.
Due to irresponsible and heinous behavior on my part in my youth, a young woman was compromised and, as a result, died in childbirth. I realize now, after overhearing your words to Lady MacLerie and upon further discussion with her about your own personal situation and the women who you endeavor to help, that this is the most unforgivable act in your eyes. The only good thing that came from it was my own personal realization that I must make amends for my actions.
Her stomach clenched now at the thought that he had committed the same crime…act against some woman as had been done to her. How could he have? What had driven him to such a thing? How young had he been?
Now she understood his reaction upon first learning of the true nature of her school; and she knew he had overheard her disclosure about her own life. It was clear that his own guilt in some similar situation colored his actions.
And so, for a number of years I have supported through personal funding and oversight, two orphanages and a school for the unfortunates of society. These charities have grown and the cost of supporting them has soared due to the economic conditions in our nation, as you are well aware.
As a result, I entered into a bargain with my father, the Marquess of Dursby, whereby I would carry out certain public functions designed to promote his political agenda in return for a yearly allowance in an amount sufficient to continue those charities already mentioned. Making these arrangements more difficult is the fact that the marquess does not know of them. More to the point, much as you mentioned a fear that your interests would be destroyed, so too would these if my father were aware of them, for they are diametrically opposed to his own views of societal welfare and charity.
Recently, due to Mr. Goodfellow’s very public success at undermining the Tory position, demands were made regarding the ongoing exchange of points of view—demands accompanied by the threat of a cessation of the agreed-upon allowance if success was not assured. In an attempt to know more about my enemy, and at the same time, recognizing that my opponent espoused my own personal views, I sought more information so that some agreement might be reached concerning the manner in which our discourse would continue.
Anna had held her breath for so long now, her chest hurt. Each line, each sentence, contained another shocking revelation about the man she thought she knew and his life and his causes. For exactly the opposite reasons, they stood on either side of the same issue and ended up pursuing the same ends. His motivation and hers, cause and effect, shameful and shamed, and yet the results of it were support for those who could not care for themselves.
The rest of this you already know. I appeared in Edinburgh, searching out Mr. Goodfellow, and discovered instead one Miss Anna Fairchild. In spite of my efforts to avoid, mislead and ignore this young woman, she became the reason I remained when I should have long before sought London. Like no one I had ever met before, and I confess that I expect to meet no one like her again, she supported those very things I hold dear and precious and did so in spite of all the strictures of society which should have stopped her.
Tears flowed now and Anna wiped them away to keep them from falling on the page as she finished his missive. To read of his thoughts about her tore at her bruised heart.
Because the danger facing your interests is due to my actions and those of my father’s, I have taken steps to insure that your financial investments are secured against loss. Lord MacLerie has agreed to handle these arrangements and the deed for the property and building that houses your school will shortly be in your hand and control.
I will continue my bargain as I promised until I can secure funding in other ways or until my father tires of it. Please warn Mr. Goodfellow that I will not be such easy prey again.
There are many things I would like to say to you, but since Lord MacLerie will undoubtedly read this prior to you seeing it, I will only wish you well in your endeavors and in your life.
Anna glanced down to the bottom and his signature. She sobbed at the sight of it.
Yr. Servant— Treybourne —David
She moved all the papers aside, crossed her arms under her head and cried as she considered all he had said. Sometime later, she looked up to find Clarinda with the paper in hand. So much for privacy.
“Robert suggested I check on you.”
“You read it?” Anna really needed no answer, for Clarinda’s eyes were as swollen from crying as she imagined her own were.
“Every word of it. Twice.” Clarinda dabbed at her eyes and wiped her nose. “More importantly, what are your thoughts on this? Does it tell you what you needed to know?”
Anna thought about how much more she’d learned about David from this letter. It must be true or Robert would have said otherwise. She thought about that—she knew it was true without Robert’s word on it for there were two things she understood about David before she read any of it. Despite his charade and his covering his identity, just as she had, under it all there was an honorable man.
The second thing she knew was that she still loved him.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Is there anything you still need to know? Something that the letter does not speak to?”
She held out her hand and Clarinda reached across the desk to hold it. “He has secured the mortgage on the school. He has explained his actions and his reasons for them. His pretense, apparently undertaken for reasons similar to my own, can be understood in that light. The debate will continue and everyone and all the things I hold dear are taken care of.” Anna took the letter from Clarinda and folded it back into the neat parcel it had been. “Everything is settled.”
Anna could tell that her friend did not believe her words. She did not believe them, either, but she did think that the effort to accept it was the important thing. It would take time for everything to truly settle back into place.
She would go back to the schedule that had served her so well. She would continue the work she loved so much. And with every breath she took, she would miss the man she fell in love with and mourn for everything her life could have been.
“‘Oh what a tangled web we weave….’” Anna whispered to herself as Clarinda left without another word.
Chapter Twenty
November, 1818
Lansdale Park
England
His stomach rolled with nervousness as his coach-and-four drew up in front of their family estate. David gathered up the various packets and papers and placed them back in the leather case. It had taken nearly three months, but he was ready now. The coach stopped and several footmen ran to attend to the visitors. His coachmen had their instructions and would wait for him. He nodded to the other occupants of the coach and climbed out.
Walking up the immaculately groomed path to the ornate marble entryway, he paused ever so slightly as the huge front door to the manor house opened before him. The butler, one of the few servants he recognized, greeted him and directed him to the blue drawing room where his parents waited.
The sound of his riding boots echoed ahead and behind him as he walked the long hallway and stood outside the largest and most stately of all the rooms
used to receive visitors. A footman immediately opened the door and announced his arrival.
“Treybourne,” his mother said from her seat at the writing desk. He walked to her, bowed as was expected and then leaned over to kiss her cheek.
“Mother,” he said, stepping back. “You look well. I think the country agrees with you.” Of course, it was the expected and the polite thing to say, so he did. His only other choice would have been to remind her that she had died a bit more each day since Amelia’s death four years ago and gave every appearance of it.
David presented himself before his father and bowed. “Sir.”
“You look like some country rector, Treybourne. Why are you not dressed appropriately?”
If it had been another day, he might have responded differently, but David was so filled with anticipation that the insult washed over him. “I will be traveling the rest of the day, sir. I am dressed for that.”
“Traveling? There are meetings scheduled. The ministers will be arriving this afternoon….”
“And I will be gone, sir.”
“Treybourne?” His mother had risen from her seat and approached him. “Where are you going?”
“I am going to Scotland, Mother.”
“Scotland?” his father asked. “I have not asked you to go to Scotland.”
David lifted the case to the desk and opened it. “I have attempted to honor my agreement this last year, sir, but these last few months have proven to me that I was wrong to accept it in the first place.” He held out a number of portfolios to his father and gave him a few moments to leaf through them.
“As you have frequently pointed out to me, Mr. Goodfellow bested my arguments in six issues straight and I have yet to recover my momentum in the discourse. Our approach to the situation has diverged and I am no longer willing to go after the man involved as an enemy.”
“Treybourne, I will cut off your income if you do not—”
“I have spoken to the undersecretary who agrees that my effectiveness as a party spokesperson has diminished substantially and he was willing to consider an alternative. My suggestion of Lord Cunningham was accepted.” David paused and handed him a list he’d drawn up of other potential Tory party members, but he knew that his father actually liked Cunningham.
“You spoke to the undersecretary?” His father was surprised—something not altogether known to him.
“I did. And in order to make the transition flow, I drafted two sample essays for Cunningham to use.”
“You cannot do this.”
“Actually, sir, I can. Once I reach my birthday, I will gain control of my inheritance from grandfather and not need your money. I have spent the last two months making arrangements for my financial commitments and I can manage all of them until that day without a penny from you.”
“What? You cannot be serious about this!” His father shook his head. “Why? Why would you do something like this and not simply continue the arrangements we’ve made?”
“Because I am completely opposed to everything you support.”
“That is nothing new between us. You have never agreed with any of my aims or purposes.” His father brushed this objection aside as he had all the previous ones. “What has changed now?”
“I have discovered something I want more.” It was a simple truth, but weren’t all the important things in life only that? “Someone I want more.”
“A woman? This is over that penniless Scottish bi—?”
His mother gasped. “Dursby!”
“Let me tell you what your son has been doing, Elizabeth. Treybourne went to Edinburgh to discover the identity of the writer who has been trouncing him in debate. When he couldn’t find the person, he began sniffing around this…”
David grabbed his father by the lapels of his morning coat and shook him. “Do not speak of her in that way!” He shoved him back and tried to regain his control.
Instead of stopping his father, the shocking action goaded him on. “While you were…” He paused when David took a step toward him. “While you were off consulting old school friends, I found out who Goodfellow is.”
“You did?” he asked.
“It is that woman, Fairchild is her name I believe. She is Goodfellow.”
David stopped and realized what had been in front of him all along. He laughed, out loud, until his stomach ached and his father looked uneasy again. “Anna is A. J. Goodfellow!”
Now when he thought of the name, he realized that it was the first initials of her and Julia’s names along with a play on words regarding portraying a man—a good fellow. He laughed again and, from the expressions of their faces, his parents thought he’d been driven around the bend.
“This is no matter of folly. You have been bested by a woman! A woman! A penniless commoner who purports her writings as a man’s.”
“On the contrary, sir, this is a matter of the most serious kind. And I will tell you that she is a better man than most men I know and she will make the perfect wife for me.”
“I will not permit it!” His father’s voice echoed now in the large chamber. “My solicitors—”
“Will inform you that there is nothing you can do to stop me. I am of age and do not need your permission.”
“Treybourne,” his mother whispered. “Married? David…” He walked over to her and knelt down next to her.
“I will bring her to meet you, Mother,” he said, taking her hand and patting it. “But there is someone I would like you to meet right now. I know that you do not understand my motives, sir, but I want to share part of them with you.”
“Motives? For turning your back on your family, your heritage? For refusing to honor your commitments? I do not care to know them. Your actions speak for themselves.”
Most likely his father would not understand, but in the hopes that it might make some small difference, he walked over and gave instructions to one of the footman by the drawing room door. Some preparation was needed before the introduction.
“Actually, I believe my actions over these last few years uphold the family tradition. Acting honorably and carrying out one’s duties is part of the Lansdale heritage.”
He waited by the door for the footman’s return with the other occupants of the coach. He spoke loud enough for his father to hear, but directed his words at his mother.
“Some years ago, after reprehensible behavior on my part, I learned that owning up to one’s responsibilities can bring about needed change. I think that discovering my daughter’s existence and being able to save her and others from the life they were condemned to was as good a thing for me as it was for them.”
“Daughter? You have a daughter?” she asked.
“Yes, Mother.” He looked at the door as the footsteps in the hall grew louder. “Here, Mrs. Green, let me take her.”
David leaned over and lifted Maddy’s hand from her nurse’s. She had fallen asleep in the coach just before they arrived and was only waking up now. “Come, sweet, there is someone I want you to meet,” he whispered. She wrapped her other hand over his and allowed him to lead her across the room toward his mother.
He walked slowly over to his mother, crouching down so that he was closer. Maddy glanced at him, fear evident on her face as she whispered “Papa” and clutched at his arm.
“Mother, this is…” Before he could say her name, his mother shook her head as though seeing a ghost.
“Amelia?” Her shocked gaze revealed that his perception of the strong resemblance between his daughter and his deceased sister was correct. Her dark hair was a mass of curls that encircled a cherubic face and the blue eyes rimmed in even darker blue that proclaimed her a Lansdale. Exactly as his sister had looked at this same age.
“This is Maddy, my daughter,” he said. “Maddy, this is my mother, Lady Dursby.” Maddy leaned her head away from his shoulder and examined his mother before smiling. The smile was her mother’s mark, the one he would always remember when he thought of Sarah.
He c
ould see that his mother was fighting the urge to reach out to the child. She glanced from Maddy to his father and back again, clearly evaluating the risks involved with his displeasure against her own needs. She did not reach out after all, but she did offer a smile of her own to his daughter. David looked over at his father.
The marquess’s face was a blank, nothing there—not his gaze or the set of his mouth or the countenance of his forehead gave away his thoughts. Or so it seemed, until his mother pleaded with him.
“John?”
His father’s gaze was haunted by the same ghost as his mother’s. They were both, they were all, remembering his younger sister now. A curt nod was all his father would give on it, but it was enough to free his mother to reach out to the child.
“Maddy is such a pretty name,” she said, reaching out to touch her cheek, but then withdrawing her hand. “How old are you, child?”
“Almost eight, Lady Dursby.”
David was so proud of her and knew that this had been the right thing to do. Even if his father would not relent, his mother’s heart had softened already.
“Mrs. Green, would you take Maddy back to the coach? We will be leaving shortly.”
“Certainly, my lord.”
Before Mrs. Green could take her by the hand, Maddy stepped closer and kissed his mother on the cheek. Stunned, no one moved until the stillness became uncomfortable around them. What David feared the most was his mother’s, and his father’s, reaction to a gesture of such familiarity.
“Goodbye, Maddy,” she finally whispered with a touch to Maddy’s cheek.
The continued silence from his father was not a surprise, and yet it was. David watched as Mrs. Green took her hand and they walked from the room following the same footman who had escorted them here. When the door closed, he faced them.
“Her mother was a housemaid at the London house who I took a fancy to when I arrived home from the university. With no way to refuse my advances, she had no choice but to accept them.”
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