An Heiress at Heart

by Jennifer Delamere

  Apparently Geoffrey did not intend to argue. “You may do as you see fit, of course,” he said dryly.

  “Can you not convince him to stay, Ria?” James asked.

  Lizzie did not trust herself to speak. She turned away to hide eyes that were again brimming with tears, and to avoid James’s curiosity.

  “James,” said Geoffrey, “will you please have my valet sent upstairs? I will need him to begin packing my clothes.”

  James sighed in resignation. “As you wish.”

  James called a footman over and delivered the necessary instructions to prepare for Geoffrey’s departure.

  While James was thus occupied, Geoffrey said quietly to Lizzie, “I trust you will speak with Lady Thornborough as soon as she returns, and that you will inform me when you do?”

  Lizzie nodded. “Of course.”

  “I do not need to remind you that if you do not handle this right away, I will do so—and I will personally make sure the authorities become involved in the affair as well.”

  How far they were from where they’d been just a few short hours ago, Lizzie reflected. How unutterably sad, too, that Geoffrey’s reaction to the truth had been so entirely in line with all her fears. But she would not cower before his threats or his scorn. “Rest assured, sir, that I have every intention of keeping my word.”

  She knew Geoffrey caught the hostility underlying her words. He looked about to reply in kind. But he stopped himself. He turned toward the stairs.

  “One moment, if you please,” Lizzie called after him.

  He paused.

  Lizzie slowly removed the ring—Edward’s ring—that had been on her finger. She walked to Geoffrey and held it out. “I believe this is rightfully yours now.”

  Geoffrey took the ring. His expression shuttered, becoming hard and unreadable. Once more he turned away, and went up the stairs with a purposeful stride.

  An hour later, Lizzie watched from an upstairs window as James accompanied Geoffrey out the main door. Two footmen were just completing the task of securing Geoffrey’s trunks to his carriage. James and Geoffrey exchanged a few words and shook hands.

  Even with all that had happened, Lizzie would have given anything to have seen Geoffrey look up, to give some sign that he still loved her, somewhere deep in his heart. Could his love really have vanished so swiftly and completely? She had been bracing herself for it for weeks, but she still could not accept it. “Please look up,” she whispered. “Please.”

  But he did not look up. Without even a trace of a backward glance, Geoffrey stepped into the carriage and was lost from Lizzie’s view.

  Chapter 36

  Lizzie sat at the piano, her fingers soundlessly stroking the tops of the ivory keys. It was comforting, as though she were somehow closer to Ria by sitting here.

  She studied the open sheet music before her. The collage of strange marks and lines was like some kind of bizarre, esoteric language. This must be how illiterate people feel when they see words in a book, she thought. They marvel at mysteries known to others but not to themselves.

  These pages were as incomprehensible to Lizzie as her own life. She could neither understand nor explain how she had come to this point of being trapped in a vise of her own making. She was about to do the one thing she had been wishing for—to reveal herself to Lady Thornborough, to become completely honest, to be rid of her lies. But still she shrank from this task, knowing the trials that lay ahead.

  Lizzie had been sorely tempted to run away immediately, without facing Lady Thornborough. She could have disappeared in London and made her way back to Tom somehow. But it would have been a coward’s way out. Above all, she had given her word to Geoffrey, and although she could never hope to regain his love, she would from this point forward strive to live virtuously. Perhaps if she did so, the Lord would help her through the terrible things that were sure to come. She would discover if, like Saint Paul, the past could finally be put behind her.

  “You do not seem to be practicing, cousin.”

  James’s words broke her reverie. She turned to see him leaning casually against the door frame, observing her intently.

  She straightened and blinked back the tears. “You startled me. I thought you went down to the village for the afternoon.”

  “I did.” He sauntered into the room. “The afternoon is far gone.”

  “Is it?” Lizzie glanced at the large grandfather clockand was surprised to see that it was nearly five o’clock.

  “How long have you been sitting here, mooning over the sheet music and doing nothing?” James playfully chastised.

  “Too long, it seems,” Lizzie replied with a sigh.

  “You will be glad to know I received a note from Aunt, informing me she will be returning day after tomorrow on the three o’clock train—if, and I quote, ‘the train does not explode or get derailed by a stray cow.’ ”

  He grinned, and Lizzie offered a weak imitation of a smile in return. “I think I know where you get your sense of humor, James.”

  “I’m glad to see you smile,” James said comfortably. “You have been much too melancholy of late. For the life of me, I cannot figure out why. I cannot bring myself to believe you have been agonizing so over Geoffrey—he hardly seems worth it.”

  This casual mention of Geoffrey was suddenly and inexplicably too much for Lizzie’s broken heart. She broke into a sob, knowing she was immensely foolish but unable to stem the tears that streamed down her face.

  James sat next to her on the piano bench and placed an arm around her shoulders. “It’s all right,” he murmured soothingly, offering her a handkerchief. “It’s all right.”

  He allowed Lizzie to cry herself out. “You and Geoffrey had a falling-out, didn’t you?” he asked, once her sobs had subsided into a few hiccups and sighs. “Whatever this rift is between you, I’m sure it can be mended. We’ll invite him back, and—”

  “No!” Lizzie interrupted. “He will never come back.”

  “I cannot believe that. Any fool, including me, can see how much you care for each other. How could he stay away?”

  This started a fresh flow of tears, which Lizzie tried ineffectually to mop up with the handkerchief. “I’m sorry, James, but I cannot explain it to you now. I must first speak to—”

  Lady Thornborough? Grandmamma? Lizzie no longer knew how to refer to her.

  James gave her a friendly squeeze. “I’ll wait. In the meantime, how about we play a little duet?”

  Lizzie threw a dark look at the ivories that had seemed so comforting a short while ago. “Do not start nagging me again about this cursed piano.”

  “Just one,” James urged. “One of those easy little duets we used to play to cheer us up whenever we were sad.”

  “Duets?” Lizzie had no idea what James was talking about. Ria never mentioned playing the piano with James. She sniffled and wiped her eyes again, trying to clear away the fog of grief so she could think.

  “Our favorite was one of those Brahms lullabies, remember?” He seemed so sincere, and hurt almost, that she had forgotten.

  “Of course,” she murmured faintly. “But I have no heart to play just now.”

  Despite the fact that she was refusing, her answer seemed to satisfy James immensely. “That’s all right, my dear,” he said with a smile in his eyes. “We’ll do it another time.”

  *

  Geoffrey let his mare run the last quarter mile to the house. The animal stretched out beneath him, glad to be given free rein, knowing her bed and meal were close at hand.

  Geoffrey was glad to concentrate wholly on the rhythmic movements of the horse as trees swept past him in a blur. This, at least, was the advantage of his new station in life. He had a stable full of fine horses, and they were only one of the many pleasant diversions available to him.

  He was going to need every possible distraction in order to forget Lizzie. So far it had been impossible to keep her out of his thoughts. She was with him night and day, a dull ache in his heart
he could find no way to assuage.

  The worst of it was, of course, that she might never be entirely out of his life. Lizzie seemed to have won a genuine affection from Lady Thornborough during her months of masquerading as Ria. If the old woman became convinced that Lizzie was indeed a Thornborough, she might well accept Lizzie into the family. Once Lizzie told her what had happened to Ria, Lady Thornborough might be desperate to keep her only surviving grandchild, despite the trick Lizzie had played on her.

  If that were the case, they would be bound to meet from time to time, especially during the season. He already knew that every time he saw her, he would remember afresh the way he had once loved her. He’d trusted her, and she’d repaid that trust with lies. Why had she not come to him? Why had she not trusted him enough to tell him the truth?

  Whether or not he ever saw her again, one thing was certain. She was seared on his heart forever. He could only hope for the years to lessen its sting, as a scar might fade with time.

  He prayed that God would forgive him, both for what he had done and for what he had been fully prepared to do. He knew dozens upon dozens of Bible verses about God’s loving kindness and mercy; yet he found it hard to believe any of them just now. And when it came to forgiving others, he’d discovered, to his mortification, that it was a far easier thing to preach than to practice.

  He had received no news from Rosewood in the three days since he had left there, leading him to assume that Lady Thornborough was still in London and Lizzie had not yet been able to speak with her. He had no doubt that once the old woman was apprised of the state of things, there would be an uproar that all of England would hear.

  His mare slowed to a gentle trot as they approached the main entrance of his manor house. A groom stood at the ready as Geoffrey brought the horse to a halt. Geoffrey dismounted and handed over the reins.

  “There is a guest waiting for you, sir,” the groom informed him.

  “A guest?” A surge of dread mingled obstinately with hope. If Lizzie had come here…

  But a quick glance around the courtyard confirmed there were no additional carriages. The guest had arrived on horseback, and must therefore be a man. “Who is this guest?”

  “Mr. James Simpson, sir.”

  Geoffrey actually swore under his breath. He saw the groom’s eyebrows raise a fraction, but he didn’t care. Save Elizabeth Rose Poole, James was positively the last person Geoffrey wanted to see right now. No, that wasn’t true. He wanted to see Lizzie just as fervently as he despised her—more proof that he was a senseless fool. He wiped the sweat from his brow and took the steps to the front door.

  James had made himself comfortable in the study. Geoffrey found him seated in one of the overstuffed chairs, his dusty boots propped carelessly on a velvet footstool. James had also helped himself to the brandy. He lifted his glass as Geoffrey entered. “There you are. I’ve been waiting for ages.”

  Geoffrey tossed his riding coat on a chair and poured a glass of water from one of the decanters on the wooden sideboard. With a quick nod to the glass in James’s hand, he said, “I trust my brandy has made the waiting worth your while.”

  James tipped the last drops of amber liquid into his mouth and set the glass on a side table with an air of satisfaction. “Well, it certainly took some of the boredom out of it.”

  “Why are you here, James?” Geoffrey sank wearily into the chair next to the one James occupied.

  James regarded him with a touch of amusement. “I see we’ve decided to dispense with formalities.”

  Geoffrey leaned his head back on the chair and rubbed his eyes. Already fatigued from lack of sleep, he’d been brought to near exhaustion by his long ride. He was in no mood for sparring. “You always said you hated standing on ceremony.”

  “Yes, Ceremony hates it when you stand on him,” James quipped.

  Geoffrey turned his head just enough to shoot him a warning glare.

  James threw up his hands in surrender. “All right, I will get to the point. I’ve come to talk to you about Ria.”

  To hear Ria’s name spoken aloud—a woman whose life had ended so tragically, only to be dishonored by Lizzie’s deception—raised all of Geoffrey’s anger afresh. He made up his mind he was not going to aid her lies in any way. “Ria is dead.” He spoke the words forcefully, expecting James to recoil in shock.

  A look of genuine sorrow crossed James’s face, but not surprise. “I was afraid of that.”

  “Why?” Geoffrey sat up. “What do you know about this?”

  “I don’t really know anything,” James replied. “I have only suspicions. Perhaps you should tell me what you know first.”

  Geoffrey was about to protest, but he held his peace when he saw that James was not playing games. His look held a gravity that Geoffrey was sure he’d never seen in the man before.

  “Let’s begin with your statement that Ria is dead,” James prompted. “I had been holding out hope for a different answer. I assume the woman I have been calling Ria for these past few months is, in fact, someone else?”

  “You assume nothing! You know it!” Geoffrey stood up and towered threateningly over James. “Don’t deny it. How long have you known? Since the night that bastard Hightower made his lewd insinuations?”

  James raised his hands in a mildly defensive gesture. “Let’s discuss this rationally. Shouting will not help.”

  Geoffrey took several deep breaths and curbed his desire to throttle the man. “Very well.”

  James sat back in his chair. “The truth is, I had my suspicions before that conversation with Freddie. I grew up with Ria; we were as close as any brother and sister could be. This woman who arrived from Australia knew many things that only Ria could have known. And yet something about her was not right. Or more correctly, not Ria.”

  “Why didn’t you confront her about this?” Geoffrey tried in vain to curb his frustration. “Why did you allow her to continue this charade?”

  “I had no real proof,” James said reasonably. “I was not about to trouble my aunt until I had something concrete—especially since I had no answer as to where the real Ria was. I wanted to find that out first. I was, in fact, on the verge of asking this woman straight out who she was—confidentially, of course. That was one of the reasons I came to Rosewood. But it seems you already made the discovery. Please, tell me what has happened.”

  This explanation appeased Geoffrey somewhat. He could see some sense in it. He sat down, but did not speak right away. He took several moments to formulate what he would say. “The last night I was at Rosewood, I… borrowed a book of hers.” Nothing would induce him to give the details surrounding his “borrowing” the book. James had undoubtedly drawn his own conclusions about the two of them anyway. He wished James could have acted sooner, before he’d made such a complete idiot of himself with Lizzie.

  “Go on,” James said.

  Geoffrey told James about discovering the letter from Tom, and how he had confronted Lizzie the next day. He related her explanation of who she was and why she had been perpetrating this deception. “It’s preposterous, of course,” he finished.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s obvious!” Geoffrey fairly shouted. “Apart from everything else, she claimed she was looking for letters that would confirm she is Sir Herbert’s illegitimate daughter. Conveniently, however, she was unable to produce such letters. She claims she found them, but they proved nothing.”

  “What did you do then?” James asked.

  “I insisted that she tell Lady Thornborough who she was. I made it clear that if she did not, I would expose her and possibly bring action against her.”

  “She agreed to this?”

  “She has no choice!”

  “I don’t know about that,” James countered. “Given her physical similarity to Ria, I believe her story that she is related to us. As we are a proud and somewhat belligerent family, I would have expected more fight from her. Some protest, perhaps.”

  �
�Oh, there was fight in her.” Geoffrey’s exasperation rose as he recalled her vehement words. “She—” He shook his head. Even now he could hardly believe it.

  “She what?” James prodded.

  He would persist, Geoffrey thought with irritation. “She quoted scripture at me.” As he spoke, he gave James a look that virtually dared him to make a joke of it.

  “Easy, my friend. I know you are upset.” James rubbed his chin in contemplation. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. It was something about ‘casting the first stone.’ ”

  Geoffrey looked at him, incredulous. “How on earth did you guess that?”

  “My dear Geoffrey, it’s a personal favorite of mine.”

  Seeing that Geoffrey’s self-control was about to evaporate, James moved swiftly to the sideboard and poured them each a brandy. He brought the glasses over and handed one to Geoffrey. “We are both facing great losses, my friend,” he said, his voice now serious. “I have grown fond of this Lizzie Poole, but I grieve for my dear Ria. My aunt will take all of this very hard. And you—well, you feel betrayed by someone you were beginning to care for very much.”

  Geoffrey was about to utter a sharp denial of this, but James lifted up a hand to stop him.

  His expression was warm and compassionate. “Geoffrey, I believe you and I need to discuss, in earnest, what should be done.”

  Chapter 37

  The hands on the clock stubbornly refused to pick up their pace, despite the multitude of times Lizzie checked it. And there was still one more day before Lady Thornborough’s return. These days of waiting had been interminable, spurring Lizzie’s anxiety to have everything out in the open once and for all. She felt like a condemned prisoner who’s decided it’s better to face the ax than to remain in its dread.

  She did not even have James to distract her. He had left the house at an uncharacteristically early hour, leaving a message that he had estate business to attend to and would return in time for tea.

  Lizzie was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she never heard the approach of a horse on the front drive. She was surprised when the parlor maid entered with news that a guest was downstairs, asking for her. “Who is it?” she asked.