Harley Street

by Lynne Connolly

  He and his mother stared at each other, white-faced, neither of them moving.

  Lord Southwood stared at his wife then, his thick brows raised in surprise. “I told you to tell him at the time. I assumed you had.” That said volumes about the way husband and wife communicated.

  She met her husband’s anger with calmness. “I saw no point.” She gazed at her son, expressionless. “When she left, you behaved like a—a servant. You forgot your position, forgot who you were. Any more news would have made it worse. You wouldn’t have stopped until you’d found her.”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” Richard said then, every emotion leeched from his voice, nothing there to betray what he must be feeling. His hand still gripped mine.

  “We sent her to France,” his mother continued smoothly. “You had forgotten I have relatives there?” She was taunting him with her cleverness at a time when she had been a mature woman and he but a boy of fourteen. I began to understand why Richard had cut himself off from her so completely. “She was delivered safely and continued happily enough for a while, then she met a gamekeeper, Forder. There’s a vogue for English gamekeepers in France. We provided her with a dowry and she married him. He took the children for his own.”

  Richard’s voice tore the air. “Children!” It was as though everything he had held back flooded out in that one word.

  His mother frowned, but not so much that it disturbed her perfect maquillage. “Twins,” she explained briefly, carelessly.

  “Dear God!” The diamond pin at his neck glittered as he forced himself to breathe.

  I was probably the calmest person present, the whole affair seeming distant. “Where are they now?”

  Lady Southwood shook her head. “We left them in married bliss. For all we knew, they were still there.”

  “Did you not remember the children were your own flesh and blood?” Richard asked, more quietly. His hand still gripped mine.

  Lady Southwood looked disdainfully at him. “Mere sentiment. There must be any number of Kerre by-blows peopling the world by now. Don’t you think you added to them yourself?”

  “I was sure I hadn’t.” Even after a shock like this, his years of practice in self-control didn’t desert him. “At least until now. Madam, I have always honoured my obligations. This affair sickens me.”

  I was surprised his father didn’t rebuke him but he, too, was shocked. He couldn’t have known until this moment that Richard hadn’t been aware of the existence of the children. It was not the habit of the upper echelons of society to take a personal hand in their children’s upbringing and I knew Richard and Gervase were not unusual in this. Lord Southwood remained silent, his lips tightly pressed together, his steady gaze on his wife.

  “Richard, you were fourteen,” his mother protested. It was the first time I had ever heard her use his given name. I felt him flinch, as though she’d struck him.

  He spoke slowly. “I was old enough to get her pregnant. I prefer to take responsibility for my actions.”

  “You know now.”

  He stared to where his hand held mine, then released it with a polite smile of apology. I wanted to shake my hand to restore the circulation but I let it lie, suffering the resulting pins and needles in silence. He returned his attention to his mother. “Yes, I know now. Where are the children these days?”

  “How should I know?” She waved her hand irritably. “We gave the woman a good dowry on her marriage and that was the end of it as far as we were concerned. Was there no sign of them when she was found?”

  “None,” Richard replied. “But this time, madam, rest assured I will find them.”

  He stood, bowed to his parents and offered me his arm. I could do nothing but stand and take it. “You will, I hope, excuse us.” He led me out of the room and to our own quarters, his manner stately and haughty.

  The doorbell clanged. The dinner guests had arrived. No doubt our absence would be calmly excused.

  We went into our private sitting room and Richard closed the door with great care before he finally gave way. Holding me tightly, he shook for a full minute, his head pressed to the side of mine. I couldn’t see his face. I had only known him like this once before and I prayed I would never have to see him so again. Now his mother had brought this on him.

  I didn’t know what I could do for him other than this, sharing his loss, but I was shamefully glad he had not known. Whatever he’d said before, he might have married her if he’d known of her condition. Then I couldn’t have had him. I despised myself for feeling so but I couldn’t deny it.

  Eventually he drew back and took both my hands in his with a gentleness that brought tears to my eyes. “My poor love, I’m so sorry.”

  “What for? You have nothing to be sorry for, Richard, it wasn’t your doing.”

  He smiled at my slip. “It was all my doing.” The smile left him. “You know I have to find them, don’t you?”

  “Of course but what will you do then?”

  “Make sure they are well and provided for. What else?”

  They would be fifteen or sixteen by now, coming into adulthood, maybe leading independent lives of their own. “I’m sorry you had to hear all that, Rose. If I’d had any inkling of what was to come I would have asked you to go.”

  “Why? Wouldn’t you have wanted me to know?” I was indignant.

  He smiled and shook his head. “I would have told you but more gently, not like that. You may have forgotten, my love, but you’re carrying something I have every intention of taking the greatest care of.”

  I felt deeply touched by his concern. “I’ve not forgotten. I never forget that. But you come first, you always will and I’m glad I was with you. I wouldn’t have liked you to learn all that on your own.”

  He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. “This makes no difference to my feelings about our child.” He met my eyes with a searching look of concern. “Except perhaps intensifies it, makes me want to cherish you and the baby more.”

  I took him to a sofa so we could sit together. “When I heard, I thought—thank God,” I confessed. “Because you might have married her. I’m sorry, my love, to be so selfish.”

  He put an arm around my shoulders. “I can’t say what I would have done but looked at in that light—perhaps some good did come of it, for us at least.”

  “What was she like?”

  “Who? Lucy?” I nodded. He pursed his lips. “Sixteen, older than me. Pretty, sweet, not bright. She believed me when I promised her the world, which made it all the harder when she was spirited away.” He frowned, remembering back. “I sent enquiries into France via Mrs. Thompson but we were obviously not looking in the right place. I sent couriers everywhere. I would have gone, had I known, would have fetched her back and started the series of scandals Gervase and I have been famous for ever since.”

  “Did Gervase know?” I slipped away and went to the decanters on the sideboard. “Yes.” He leaned back, watching as I picked up the brandy, pouring a small amount for me, a larger one for him. “At least, he knew about Lucy, though I don’t think he knew about the pregnancy.” He took the glass with a small smile and waited until I sat next to him again. “No, he didn’t know, or he would have told me. At fourteen we were inseparable. I would have known for sure if he’d known.”

  He put down his glass and took my hand, tracing lines on the back of it with his finger. I gave him time to think, a quiet time to assimilate what we’d heard.

  “Shall we bring Thompson’s into it?” I asked eventually.

  His voice was steady, reasoning. “It’s my only hope. We have a network that stretches across the country and, in some cases, into the continent. Only Alicia and Carier need know the truth. To everyone else, finding these children will be just an extra task for them, for which they’ll receive the usual bonus.” The silence grew heavy.

  The brandy must have done something to him. In a low, trembling voice, unlike his usual measured tones he cried, “My God! Twins!” His control sha
ttered.

  I drew him close, held him while he shook, felt his hot tears on my neck. All I could do was hold him, let him take his release and wait for him to come back to me. I was shocked to see this man of such courage and self-control break but I knew he needed this. His mother had betrayed him and his sense of duty. Her act represented years of sorrow, firmly locked away in the name of family, of convention, of expectation. And I was angry, so angry, that his mother had behaved in such a heartless way. Did the well-being of her son mean nothing to her? I already knew the answer. Family came first.

  I held him, soothed him and while I tried to comfort him, I realised something else. When he had called me his only love, he meant it. I was all there was for him, his only emotional outlet, the only person he trusted enough to show this much of himself. The love of a child for his parents had long gone. It probably began to decay on the day they informed him of Lucy’s fate instead of discussing it with him. And after many years spent apart, the rapport between Richard and Gervase was only tentatively re-establishing himself.

  If I were gone, there would be no one for him. He would draw into himself more and more, until he left nothing outside. That must have been his intention when he proposed to Julia, to withdraw from hurt or anything else. His self-will was so great, he might have succeeded.

  It worried me terribly but there was nothing I could do except take the responsibility he had given me and put him first in everything.

  This grief must take its course. I could only hope that it would leave him washed clean, ready to cope. He held me with a grip that threatened to cut off my breath, his only sounds inarticulate cries of sorrow and anger.

  When he had more control, he drew several deep, steadying breaths. After a time he leaned back, eyes closed and stayed still for a while, restoring himself, carefully putting everything back in its place. It took some time but then he opened his eyes to look at me, his lips curving into something that was both a smile and an apology.

  I held up my hand briefly. “Don’t even think it. You needed that and I can only be thankful that I was here to hold you safe until you came back to me.”

  His eyes were bright and red-rimmed, his face pale but he looked fresher, better and I no longer feared for him. “I feel as weak as a kitten.” His voice was both drained and tired.

  I got to my feet and offered him my hand. “You should rest.”

  Trusting as a child, he stood and took my hand, letting me lead him into the bedroom. I helped him off with his coat, waistcoat and shoes, then I found a cloth in my dressing room, dampened it and cleaned his face. He could smile properly by then but he looked tired. He reached out a hand and touched me. “We’ve probably missed our dinner. Will you try to eat something here, for me? You mustn’t miss a meal in your condition.”

  I was so touched by his concern, I nearly cried but it would have done no good, so I kissed him gently and promised him I would eat. “And if you don’t mind, I’ll tell Carier and leave him to pursue enquiries at Thompson’s.” I didn’t think he would be able to bear going through it all again so soon.

  He smiled and nodded his agreement, so I went away and left him to sleep.

  I sent for some food on a tray, pleading a headache, leaving the Southwoods to make whatever excuses they wanted. When I had finished, I sent for Carier and told him as what we had discovered. His face, usually grim in repose, became grimmer and I knew I had an ally in whatever we had to do.

  “He wants to find them, to make sure they’re well and happy,” I concluded. “Not necessarily to tell them the truth, because it might be doing them no favours.”

  He nodded in agreement. I’d asked him to sit down. “We don’t want this generally known,” I told him. “Only you and Mrs. Thompson need know.”

  “We’ll be extremely discreet,” the redoubtable valet promised.

  “You should know this has greatly upset my lord. He’s sleeping at present and I don’t know if we’ll attend the recital tonight. I’ll go in to him and wait but I don’t want him disturbed until he wakes.”

  Carier stood and bowed low. “Yes, my lady.” He made to go.

  “One more thing,”

  “My lady?”

  I didn’t want to remain here with his mother now, any more than he did. “We’ll bring our removal to Brook Street forward as far as we can. Let’s try to move in a week or two at the most. I can get all the essential shopping done in that time and Mrs. Thompson has informed me that she can obtain the necessary servants whenever I’m ready for them, so I’ll visit her tomorrow. I’ll tell her about the twins then and we’ll go from there.”

  “My lady.” Carier bowed and left and I went back to the bedroom. The valet came in briefly to light the fire and a branch or two of candles, glancing only once at the bed where Richard slept like a child, then left me in peace. It felt more like peace, somehow. Richard had come back to me, I could only hope whole.

  Chapter Ten

  BEFORE WE GOT UP THE next day, I told Richard of my decision to expedite the move to Brook Street. “I didn’t think you’d want to continue here much longer.”

  “If you’re sure it won’t tire you too much, I would like it above all things.”

  “We’d both be happier and that’s worth working for.”

  He kissed my forehead. “May I come and help?”

  “Yes, please. It is to be your home after all.”

  “And yours.” He looked closely at me then, lifting my chin so I looked up into his face. “I know you won’t let me apologise but will you let me thank you? No one has ever seen me like that before—no one. I’ve never allowed it.”

  “You needed it. And it’s not as though you haven’t helped me like that in the past, is it?”

  He smiled and drew me to him for a kiss, deeper and longer than before. “Do you think, my sweet, my precious love,” he said, his lips against mine, his hands caressing me, “I could thank you properly? I need to love you, to know you still want me.”

  “Oh yes.”

  I ARRIVED AT THOMPSON’S later that day, ostensibly to enquire after new servants.

  Nichols and I went in, and this time I was recognised and taken straight upstairs to the untidy office. I left Nichols to wait outside, so she sat dourly on one of the long benches in the hall, looking to neither side but graciously accepting a dish of tea. This place seemed to run on tea. Mrs. Thompson wouldn’t let me begin until we were both settled with a dish.

  She looked much the same as she had last time, dressed practically but richly, her hair out of place, as mine would be if I hadn’t such a good maid. The expression on her face had nothing to do with artifice and everything to do with her own good sense.

  “We decided to bring our move to Brook Street forward, so I’d like to see maids and footmen as soon as possible, please.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Of course.” She made a note. I proceeded to tell her why we were moving so soon.

  She watched me while I told her, in as few words as possible, what we had learned yesterday, gasping in distress when I told her Richard had been informed of the fate of the maid Lucy, seeing, as I did, how brutal such treatment would be to a sensitive boy in the throes of his first love affair.

  She tapped her pen against her teeth. “I’m sorry to speak ill of those to whom you’re related but I cannot think such behaviour is productive of anything but callousness.”

  “I agree with you. Did you know anything of this before?”

  She shook her head. “The affair was long over when I met him. He’d already run through many more women by then.”

  “What was he like at nineteen?”

  Alicia put down the pen she’d been toying with and stared into the distance, a faraway look entering her eyes. “At nineteen Lord Strang was an angel. Oh, not his morals.” She laughed. “Far from it. But in manners and dress, he was breathtaking. He’d only just decided to hold his head up and defy the world, intoxicated by the power that brought him and the freedom from his p
arents. He’d decided to make the break then, although he was still legally under their jurisdiction but he threatened them with disclosure about his brother’s sexuality if they crossed him in any way. The debutantes swooned at his feet that season but he made a beeline for the married women and the women of looser morals. He had no intention of locking on more shackles.”

  She studied me consideringly. “He was of that mind until he went to Yorkshire last year. I don’t know what happened there but there was no inkling of it. You know he proposed to Miss Cartwright in the way he might propose a business decision?” I nodded. “Then we heard she had run off. I wasn’t surprised he let her go. But you—you were a shock to everyone who knew him. That is,” she hastened to explain, “not you precisely but the way he blithely became engaged to a lady completely unknown to society before.”

  I smiled. “I know. It was a surprise to me as well but sudden, startling and final.”

  She nodded again. “I thought love might catch him like that one day. I knew he couldn’t go on as he was without someone. At nineteen he wasn’t as polished as he was at thirty, so I’d seen some of the kindness and concern in him that cried out for a home.”

  “Thompson’s? Where did that fit in?”

  “An intellectual exercise. The problems we brought him from time to time gave him something on which to use his considerable brain.” She stopped and we shared a smile. “And Thompson’s gave him his own power base, something he could control. You know the government has come to us from time to time?”

  “No.” Shocking, to be so close to such power.

  “We find things out that no one else can. People always underestimate the power of servants, what they know and what they can do, so we’ve helped all manner of people at one time or another.”

  That reminded me of the other matter, the one I’d really come here for. “Is there any news about my poor Aunt Godolphin’s business?”

  Alicia sighed. “Nothing yet. The pocketbook Richard took from the scene wasn’t her journal, just a list of dates and numbers, which have to be money. The amounts seem to be fairly consistent. And letters, some kind of private code.”