An Heiress at Heart

by Jennifer Delamere

  Propriety, however, dictated that he offer her his arm, and once again they began to stroll along the river path. Even with her nearness, her hand gently resting on his arm, movement was preferable to standing there, spellbound, unable to see anything beyond her lovely countenance.

  He found his breath returning as they moved. “Ria, you were correct in saying that we should not dwell on the past. As it happens, the present is exactly what I would like to discuss. What are your plans now that you have returned to England?”

  Chapter 13

  Lizzie stumbled on a root. Geoffrey’s hands tightened on her arm to keep her from falling. She found her balance and smiled her thanks, and his grip relaxed.

  She was thankful for those few extra seconds to consider her response. She reminded herself of one of Ria’s maxims: If you are going to tell a lie, put as much truth in it as possible. Tell the truth and you can forget it; tell a lie and you must remember it forever.

  The advice was sound. “I hope to live as quietly as possible,” Lizzie said, which was the absolute truth. “I need time to regain my strength.”

  “And then?” Geoffrey pressed.

  “I am eager to get to Rosewood.”

  “But you will remain in town for the rest of the season, will you not?”

  “Yes.” Lizzie sighed. “I would have been happier to leave for the country right away. I’m sure it would be better for my health.” And keep me away from prying eyes and questions.

  “Lady Thornborough is not of that opinion?”

  “No. Dr. Layton says I am out of danger, and Grandmamma is adamant about staying in town.”

  “I think it only fair to warn you that you will have a difficult time leading this ‘quiet life’ of which you speak. All of London knows you have returned. You will be invited everywhere.”

  Lizzie recalled the uncomfortable conversation at breakfast. “I’ve tried to explain to Grandmamma that I have no desire to go out into society at all.”

  “No?” Geoffrey looked unconvinced. “I would have thought you’d be excited about getting back to dinner parties and soirees. William said you enjoyed such things.”

  She gave him a reproving look. “Believe me, I am not the same light-headed society girl who left England ten years ago.” Once again, Lizzie considered she was speaking the truth. But it went beyond the fact that she wasn’t actually Ria. When she’d run off with the handsome and debonair Freddie Hightower, she’d been young, naïve, and in love, just as Ria had been. She was far different now. She’d learned that exterior refinements were not the real measure of a man.

  “You should prepare yourself for what will happen. Everywhere you go, people will be asking you all manner of impertinent questions about your life in Australia. You will be scrutinized and discussed as if you were a fascinating exhibit at the zoo.”

  Lizzie thought nervously of interacting with all those people, of facing the whole spectrum of social situations. She felt unprepared, despite her long conversations with Ria and the social graces she’d acquired during her months with Freddie. She had not been expecting Lady Thornborough to push her out into society so quickly. She’d thought she’d have more time.

  “When you are subjected to these questions,” Geoffrey continued, “you must be careful. You must not say or do anything that will injure the reputation of either of our families.”

  “Is that what you are concerned about? You think I will do something further to disgrace you?” Despite her own concerns on this subject, she could not prevent a note of indignation from creeping into her voice.

  Geoffrey shook his head. “That is too harsh. I am merely reminding you of the need to act with discretion.”

  Lizzie was painfully aware of the need to watch every step. “I had hoped my words today might have given you some confidence on this subject. I am as concerned as you are to preserve your family’s good name.” Indeed, Lizzie realized that she wanted to give Geoffrey a higher regard not only for Ria but also, somehow, for herself.

  He considered her thoughtfully for a moment. “I do believe you are telling the truth.”

  The truth.

  She wished he had chosen any other words but those.

  They walked together in silence. Lizzie was searching for a safe topic of conversation when her attention was caught once more by the people and carriages on the other side of the Serpentine. “Have you been to the Great Exhibition?”

  This was definitely the right choice, as she discovered from Geoffrey’s cheerful response. “I was involved in its planning, actually.”

  “Were you? Have you met Prince Albert, then?”

  “Indeed I have.”

  “Is he…” Lizzie lowered her voice, even though no one was near enough to overhear them. “Is he really such a stiff German bore as the newspapers make him out to be?”

  Geoffrey laughed. The sound of it startled Lizzie because it was so full and pleasant. Instantly she hoped to hear more of it.

  “Prince Albert has a rather wicked sense of humor when you get to know him. He is a fine man—and I’m not just saying that because he is married to our Queen. He has high ideals and a real concern for every person in the realm, both rich and poor.”

  Lizzie shook her head in disbelief. “I’ve never yet seen a prince who was genuinely concerned about the poor, except for how to wring more work or taxes from them.”

  He tilted his head. “That’s a fairly cynical statement—especially from a member of the privileged class.”

  Lizzie stared at him, nonplussed, trying to think of an explanation for her statement. Once again Ria’s advice to tell the truth as much as you can came to her aid. “For the past ten years I have hardly been living as a member of the privileged class. I’ve seen firsthand what it’s like to struggle for a living.”

  Her statement was reasonable, and Geoffrey accepted it easily. “You would have a different view of things now, I suppose.” His voice seemed to hold a touch of approbation. “And your assessment is probably true, as far as most monarchs are concerned. But Albert has found himself in a unique position. He is married to the Queen, but he is not the King. He has time and many resources at his disposal, and his active mind is searching for ways to make use of them.”

  He motioned toward a stone bridge spanning in elegant arches across the Serpentine. “May I show you one of the projects spearheaded by the Prince himself? It’s not far from here.”

  Lizzie was intrigued. “I’d like that very much.”

  They crossed the bridge and took a path leading to Kensington Palace. Geoffrey quickened his pace, but Lizzie kept up with him easily, buoyed by his enthusiasm.

  They approached a long row of nondescript wooden buildings, home to a garrisoned army regiment. Lizzie recalled seeing these barracks years ago when she came to the park to watch the gentlemen and ladies taking their afternoon rides along Rotten Row.

  Something new had been added to this area of the park. A two-story building of polished white stone stood in stark contrast to the brown barracks nearby. Everything about the structure was symmetrical. Two doors on the ground floor framed twin large windows. A wrought-iron staircase led to an open landing on the second floor, where two more doors and windows formed an exact copy of the layout below.

  “What is this place?” Lizzie asked.

  “There are actually four dwellings in this building,” Geoffrey replied. “They are known as the Prince’s Cottages.”

  Lizzie said incredulously, “The Prince wishes to live here?”

  “Good lord, no,” Geoffrey said, smiling. Lizzie was discovering that she liked his smile. When the hard edges fell away, he seemed warmer and not so formidable.

  “These dwellings are designed for the working classes,” Geoffrey explained. “They are not grand enough for a prince, but no ordinary person would be ashamed to live here.”

  “Surely the Prince does not intend for working people to take up residence in Hyde Park?” The building was just within view of Kensington P
alace. Although it was not currently a royal residence, it was Queen Victoria’s birthplace and had been her childhood home. “Perhaps the Prince has a unique sense of humor after all.”

  “The building is temporary,” Geoffrey said. “After the Great Exhibition ends, it will be torn down and rebuilt south of the river.”

  Two dozen or so people milled about, admiring the structure from every angle. A portly gentleman with a stiff cravat and tall top hat stood near the doors, handing out pamphlets and encouraging the visitors to tour the inside. Spotting Geoffrey, he smiled and bowed. “A very good morrow to you, my lord,” he said. “Lord Ashley told us to expect you.”

  Geoffrey shook his hand warmly. “I see you have a lot of business, Mr. Lang.”

  The gentleman beamed with pride. “Forty-five visitors today, by my count, sir. We’ve been getting a fair share of working-class folk, as well as the upper classes.” Perhaps in deference to Geoffrey’s background as a clergyman, he added, “As it says in Proverbs, ‘The rich and the poor meet together, but the Lord is the maker of them all.’ ”

  Geoffrey smiled. “Right you are, Mr. Lang. I am confident the efforts we’ve made here will ultimately benefit everyone.” He looked around. “Is Lord Ashley still here?”

  “Indeed he is, sir.” Mr. Lang motioned to the staircase. “He is upstairs at present, giving a tour to two gentlemen from the Illustrated London News.”

  “Lord Ashley, the Earl of Shaftesbury, is the chairman of the Society for Improving the Condition of the Labouring Classes,” Geoffrey explained to Lizzie. “You will enjoy meeting him.”

  He had no sooner spoken than they heard a bustle on the landing as several men exited one of the upstairs rooms. “There you have it, gentlemen,” a voice boomed out. “Dwellings that are sanitary, safe, and cost no more for the laboring classes to rent than the wretched hovels they live in now.”

  The wrought-iron stairs vibrated and a tall, silver-haired gentleman with a prominent nose and chin came into view. He moved briskly, his polished boots clanking with authority on the metal steps.

  Two men carrying small notebooks and pencils followed in his wake. “This five percent return you spoke of,” one of the men asked. “Is that really what you are seeing?”

  “Do you doubt my word?”

  The second man kept writing in his notebook, even as they descended the steps. “But can you really expect to receive money on a regular basis from this low sort of people, my lord?” he persisted. “Isn’t it too risky to allow your capital to be dependent on them?”

  Lord Ashley turned as he reached the bottom step. He examined the men, who had been forced to a halt on the steps after his abrupt stop. With his walking stick he gave a light poke to the chest of the man who had asked the question. “Let me give you an example,” he said. “Over at Whitechapel, another such building has been in use for several years. Excepting a few shillings, there are no arrears due on a rental of more than two thousand pounds, paid by more than one hundred tenants.”

  The earl’s commanding tone easily garnered the attention of everyone within hearing distance. A few men and women even looked over the railing, listening from the landing above. Clearly he attracted notice wherever he went. “These are reliable working men, who deserve what we can provide for them, which is the capital to build these dwellings. They pay the rent, and the investors benefit.” He looked pointedly at the second man, who continued to take notes. “The most important thing to remember, however, is that we have used our money to benefit our fellow man.”

  There was an approving murmur from the crowd.

  Lord Ashley caught sight of Geoffrey. “Lord Somerville, there you are.”

  “I apologize for being late. I was unavoidably detained.”

  There was no rancor in Geoffrey’s voice, but Lizzie felt chastened anyway. James had foisted her upon Geoffrey’s care, not even considering that he might have had other plans.

  Lord Ashley’s gazed lit upon Lizzie. “Detained, eh? So I see! One could hardly blame you, if attending to a lovely young lady delayed your arrival.”

  Lizzie looked away in embarrassment, but Geoffrey seemed unperturbed.

  “Lord Ashley, may I present my sister-in-law, Mrs. Edward Somerville.”

  “Mrs. Somerville?” The earl’s bushy white eyebrows lifted. “Why, yes, of course.” He took Lizzie’s hand, assessing her with interest and a bit of pity. “Lord Somerville has already apprised me of the situation, of course. Such ghastly business. Thank God that you, at least, have returned safe and sound.” The earl’s expression showed genuine sympathy as he surveyed the two of them. “Perhaps you can be a comfort to one another, eh?” To Lizzie he said, “I have no doubt that Lord Somerville will take good care of you.”

  The earl could only be referring to Geoffrey’s role as a loving brother-in-law, of course. Even so, the concept of being under his care left her oddly breathless.

  “The lady is well provided for,” Geoffrey told the earl. “She is living with her grandmother, Lady Thornborough, at present.”

  Throughout this exchange, the men from the Illustrated London News had maintained a polite distance. Although they sent only occasional glances in her direction, Lizzie saw that one of the men kept scribbling furiously in his notebook. She concluded that they must be well trained on how to watch and listen without overtly appearing to do so. Lizzie shifted uneasily. She did not like the idea of their taking down the details of this conversation.

  Lord Ashley saw her troubled notice of the men. “Gentlemen,” he called out in his booming voice, “I believe you have seen everything you need?”

  He spoke it as a question, but his intent was plain. The men came forward and thanked the earl for his time, giving several bows to both Lord Ashley and to Geoffrey before tipping their hats to Lizzie and taking themselves off.

  Lord Ashley watched as they walked away. “Did you hear that man’s remark, Somerville, questioning whether we could truly rely upon the common man to pay his rent?”

  “I did, sir.”

  “Did you not find it highly impertinent—especially coming from a man who is probably not so far removed from the so-called ‘laboring poor’ himself?”

  Geoffrey nodded. “I have often noted that the common working man is far more reliable at paying his debts than many a dissolute member of the upper classes.”

  “An astute observation,” said the earl with approval. He fixed a gaze upon Lizzie that was friendly, despite his imposing appearance. “Since Lord Somerville has brought you out today, would you like to view our little project?”

  Lizzie instinctively liked this man. Although his manner was as self-assured and commanding as any man in his position, he seemed approachable, too. “Thank you, Lord Ashley,” she replied, returning his smile. “I’d like that very much.”

  “Splendid, splendid.” He turned once more to the staircase. “You really must see the upstairs to fully appreciate the exquisite design of the coal and dust chutes.”

  As they went up, Geoffrey took gentle hold of Lizzie’s elbow, bringing his solid frame close to hers on the narrow steps. By the time they reached the top of the steps, she found herself curiously out of breath. Geoffrey made no move to pull away but waited for her breathing to even out. He said gently, “Everything all right?”

  She managed a nod. “Fine, thank you.”

  She had forgotten about the other people on the landing, those who had been watching while Lord Ashley addressed the newspapermen. She was brought to heart-stopping remembrance, however, when a nearby voice cried out, “Why, bless my soul! If it ain’t Lizzie Poole!”

  Chapter 14

  Waves of heat and ice rushed over Lizzie all at once.

  She turned to find herself looking into the wrinkled face of a very old man. The coat covering his stooped back had been patched and mended dozens of times, but was probably his best. His mouth broadened into a wide, nearly toothless smile. “Lizzie Poole! We thought you was gone forever! But here you are, p
lain as day, and dressed in such fine clothes! Wouldn’t your dear father ’ave been knocked right over if he coulda seen you!”

  The old man’s voice was wheezy and raspy, as if he was bothered by a lung ailment. But his words were terrifyingly clear.

  Fear kept Lizzie rooted to the spot. She had known there might be people in London who could recognize her, even after all these years. But she had convinced herself she could not possibly cross paths with them since she would be moving in London’s best circles. Who could have guessed that the Great Exhibition would bring all levels of society into such close contact?

  The rich and the poor meet together…

  Lizzie was unable to speak. Geoffrey stared at the old man in frank surprise. Even the boisterous Lord Ashley seemed at a loss for words.

  “It’s me!” the old man said as he drew a step closer to Lizzie. “Ben Weathers! You can’t ’ave forgotten me.”

  Lizzie examined his face. He had a wide, fleshy nose that was decidedly red, and watery blue eyes that were so faded it was as if the color had been rinsed out of them. He was older and more wrinkled to be sure, but Lizzie could not mistake the face of one of her father’s dearest friends.

  She fought to keep her expression impassive, even as a multitude of conflicting desires warred within her. Her father had died while she was in Australia, and she knew nothing about his last days. She was sure Ben Weathers could answer all the questions she craved to ask. Weathers continued to watch her with anticipation. Had he seen a flicker of recognition on her eyes? He even opened his arms slightly, as though expecting her to approach him for a warm embrace. It took every ounce of her strength not to rush into those arms. She forced herself to concentrate on the solidity of Geoffrey’s arm as she clung to it. This was her path now. She must deny any knowledge of the man standing before her.

  Lizzie leveled a flat, disinterested stare at the old man she had once loved as dearly as her father. Somehow she dredged up the same haughty tone that she had employed with Harding, saying coldly, “To whom are you referring, sir?”