by Julia Donner
He didn’t allow a social impediment to deter him from his goal. If she would not see him, he would send his mother and sister to make a congratulatory call on Lady Asterly. That was appropriate, and they would be more delicate when going about the chore of prying information about Saint Allison from staff and family. They might even be allowed to view the baby with Allison nearby.
After admission into the vestibule, he was immediately escorted to the book-room and given a curious request after he entered. Lady Asterly waved away his attempt to express his happiness for her health and the child.
“Not now, Cameron. The baby and I are quite well, thanks to Mrs. Davidson. I’ve asked you here today to be present for the next caller and witness the interview. He’s been kept waiting until you arrived. Do not speak unless requested. Please stand there, to one side of the door, where you will not be immediately noticed.”
His eyebrows drew together when a footman announced the visitor. “Sir Edmond Hammond is here for his appointment, my lady.”
The footman stepped back to allow the visitor to enter. Sir Edmond paused just across the threshold to nod a bow to Lady Asterly, who did not rise from her seat at the desk, nor did she acknowledge his entrance in any way. She didn’t remove her spectacles and continued to read from a stack of documents. Parchment crackled in the awkward silence. It was the most masterful execution of a set down Cameron had ever seen, one that rendered Sir Edmond red-faced.
It was then Sir Edmond noticed another person in the room. Cameron had taken a place as instructed, near the wall, close to the door. He stood with hands behind his back, his boots comfortably placed. Taking his cue from Lady Asterly, he did not bow to the visitor nor did he offer his hand.
Sir Edmond jerked his attention back to the desk. Lady Asterly picked up the stack of papers and neatened the pile before once again placing it flat on the desk.
She looked up, peering owl-like through the small, round lenses. “We will dispense with the usual civilities. You have been called here in regards to salient errors in your ledgers and accounts pertaining to your stewardship of the Loverton estate.”
“But how would you have access to—”
She coolly ran over his interjection. “There are considerable monies missing. Several thousands. This is most disturbing, especially since we have ascertained that the fault does not lie with your clerk but with your thievery.”
“Lady Asterly, you have no business getting involved in—”
“You will replace these monies by tomorrow. Four in the afternoon is acceptable.”
Sir Edmund attempted to look down his nose, but Lady Asterly wasn’t bothering to look at him. His attempt at condescension came out sounding whiny instead of arrogantly detached. “And if I should say that you have no right to meddle in the affairs of the Loverton estate?”
She removed the spectacles. “You will disappear. I may have that accomplished in any event, for practicing the mischief of paying bullies to attack and wound a friend of mine. Do you like the sea, Sir Edmond?”
Flustered with obvious confusion, Sir Edmund blurted, “What is the matter with you? You cannot make threats to me.”
When Cameron took exception to his tone, she raised a hand to halt his advance and speared Sir Edmund with a chilling glare. “I just did.”
White about the mouth, Sir Edmund stood in shivering outrage. Lady Asterly took no notice of his wounded esteem and replaced the spectacles. “The monies you deliver will be placed in the Loverton accounts. I will know this because I still have involvement within the banking community and with this particular institution. And before you think to utter some derogatory remark as to the fact that my father was in trade, and I the inferior product of his endeavors, do not waste your breath. I am supremely disinterested in your opinions.”
“And if I should not do as you insist?”
“Recall my question regarding the sea, for you will disappear by that method, Sir Edmond, either in comfort or in chains. I have proof of more treachery. Your assault on the man who would take over your position is now known by me, and if you do not comply, will be known to the appropriate authorities.”
When Sir Edmond silently glared, she continued, “You became desperate to halt Lieutenant Bradford when his letters made plain his survival. You feared his discoveries when he assumed his rightful position, and he would certainly discover your thievery. This would become a scandal ending in conviction. I have the evidence here, which will be handed to the proper authorities in two day’s time. If you are still in England, you will go to prison. Too tender a lesson, in my opinion. I’d rather a more uncomfortable situation. Instead of that alternative, I offer you the choice of rectifying your sins by replacing the funds you stole by the aforementioned time and removing yourself from society. Europe, Italy, wherever you prefer, but not England. Go by way of sea in comfort, or in discomfort.”
Sir Edmond ground his teeth, spun on his heel, and left. Cameron strolled to the desk. “That was well done. How did you gather so much evidence so quickly?
“Not that quickly. And there is nothing definitive.” She gestured at the documents. “These are about something else. I have no actual figures, only suspicions from Crimm’s grapevine. Hammond is not very clever, so I flushed him out with a bluff. He has no idea that what Crimm has managed to uncover is not enough to send him off to a penal colony. All that was needed for today was the suggestion that we could. When you take over the estate, you’ll find it soon enough.”
Cameron leaned down and made her blush when he kissed her cheek. “Perry said I could do that.”
Bright-faced, she shuffled the papers. “Scoundrels, the both of you.”
“You blush easily for such an intimidating person.”
“And it is time for you to be on your way.”
“Where?”
“It is my hope that in a very short period of time, Allison will come swinging through that door wearing her own blush. Harry and Olivia have it all arranged. His coach and staff are waiting in the mews. You’re going down to Kent with Allison. A quiet ceremony in the family chapel in two weeks. Bans read, family present, your house will be ready for you and family. I’ve sent over staff from Marshfield to prepare the steward’s residence at the Grange. I believe your mother and sister nourish hopes of returning there. With Sir Edmond out of the way, you may tell them they may do so.”
“You appear to have neglected to make Allison aware of this scenario.”
“Not at all. Asterly is sorting through and digesting the particulars as we speak. We decided that the pair of you are too sensitive for clear-thinking action.”
Cameron strolled around to the front of the desk. “You can be quite managing, you know.”
“I apologize, but the fact remains that you and Allison share the same reticence, and at your present rate, would remain unwed for another decade. Go. Get married and enjoy your family. Asterly and I will join you before commencement of the Little Season. I want the baby christened at Marshfield.”
He watched her fidget with the documents. “There is something else you’re not telling me?”
“Yes. Has Allison ever told you the full story of what transpired when she was a child, why she ran off with Albert Davidson?”
“I believe the turning point was the marriage her father proposed. A crusty duke only interested in an heir as soon as possible. Any girl would run from what she told me.”
“There was a bit more to it than the duke. Please have a seat.” After he sat in a chair beside the desk, she removed her spectacles. “She didn’t trust her parents. But it was more than loathing her parents and the engagement that pushed her to such drastic measures. I shall relay only what you may already suspect about her childhood. What happened with Davidson is for her to explain.”
Dread invaded his heart. What was about to be said would haunt him, because there was nothing he could do to erase the past. Instinct warned him that what he’d recently witnessed with Allison’s father wou
ld not be as sickening as what he was about to hear. Morfett was the sort to keep the worst of his nature hidden.
While toying with the spectacles, she began. “Allison did not come by her healing skills accidentally or fortuitously. She had a calling to heal others starting in her childhood. She would sneak out from under the eye of her governess whenever the chance presented itself.”
“Sneak? For what reason? She could request her governess to accompany her anywhere. It would be the perfect opportunity to learn how to make calls on the ailing and destitute in the neighborhood.”
“That opinion reveals how little you understand of what her childhood was like. She sneaked because she’d been denied her wish to learn, to heal, to find comfort and company. For doing so, she was beaten.”
That stopped his breath. After he calmed a surge of outrage, he snapped, “What sort of swine denies his child from doing what is expected of one in her position? The district expects the lady of the manor to provide comfort, or at the very least, inquire as to their health.”
“You are in error on two points. Lady Morfett had no interest in the community and spent most of her life in London, and Morfett never struck his daughter. He stood by and watched while the governess used a cane on the poor girl.”
Cameron wrestled down bile and useless fury. “They beat her. For helping others.”
“And disobeying.”
“How did you learn of this?”
“You were not here when Peregrine went to war. Perhaps you know by now that he chose espionage. It was his task to uncover information and became very good at it. He told me he felt called to learn more about Allison after Morfett’s unpleasant visit. Peregrine would not let the matter rest. His conscience insisted that he must know more. He wanted all he could learn before making Morfett miserable. He went to Morfett’s principal seat. It took very little time to unearth past truths. What he discovered made us want to help her in any way we can. And there is Peregrine’s fixed belief that I would not have survived my recent confinement without Allison’s help.”
“I do not doubt that and beg you, Elizabeth, to tell me everything he unearthed. The last time I was with Allison I was taken by the notion that she’s terrified of something more than memories of her father’s treatment. I sense that it will take very little to send her running. She won’t allow me the chance to implore her to trust me. She is ruled by some irksome event from the past. I feel sure she’s blown it entirely out of proportion. I worry she’ll ever allow herself to trust me.”
Solemn hazel eyes regarded him, steady and deeply worried. “Oh, Cameron, you should care. Some things cannot be overcome by love and caring, as much as we would like it to be so. It may very well be that our Allison has carried her burden for so long that she may not be able to set it down, even on shoulders as strong and willing as yours.”
Chapter 22
Allison sped down the steps and across the first floor landing to the Green Receiving room. She’d left a tambour stretched with fine linen on the settee last night after dinner. Her funds limited, she had started to embroider violets into a handkerchief for the baby’s christening gift. Since the maids had already gone through the room, they’d moved her handwork while cleaning. Allison found it on a side table near the windows, made sure the needle was in place, and whirled to leave before being discovered.
A footman entered, interrupting her return to seclusion on the upper floors. “Begging your pardon, Mrs. Davidson. There are visitors for Lady Asterly. She will be down shortly and asks that you would keep her callers company until she arrives.” He held the door open as he announced, “Mrs. Josiah Bradford, Miss Agnes Bradford.”
Alarm rooted her in place as the two women entered. It was immediately apparent that Cameron got his smile from his mother. Silver curls peeked from under her bonnet. The younger lady, much shorter than her mother, kept her gaze lowered as she curtsied. So did Allison, ruing that she’d taken a chance coming downstairs. It was the first time in days that she’d ventured downstairs during the day, and in doing so, encountered Cameron’s family the very first thing. She no longer believed in luck, but hoped that she might have some today and have a few moments to speak with his mother and sister before other callers arrived.
Mrs. Bradford’s cheerful charm matched a pair of expressive brown eyes. “Oh, is it the Mrs. Davidson, my son’s friend?”
Allison curtsied in answer and stood clutching the tambour until the wooden circle dug into her palm. Mrs. Bradford was one of those individuals with the rare gift of being liked at first meeting. She radiated warmth, kindness, and genuine interest. Cameron’s sister, no longer in her first blush, retained a childlike quality, a shyness that was more endearing than off-putting. Both ladies exhibited the familiar ease of civility with none of the artificiality common with obligatory social visits.
Gathering her wits and courage, Allison asked them to be seated, offered refreshments and stumbled through the usual discussion of the weather, the newborn’s health, everyone’s health, the joy of having Cameron back in the bosom of his family. Her disbelief in luck was validated as more visitors streamed into the room, more than usual for Lady Asterly’s “at home” day, but many had come to offer congratulations about the birth. Fortunately, the Asterly’s friends knew each other and conversed until their hostess arrived. The men congregated in corners to talk politics or settle in a chair with a newspaper or periodical.
The drone of placid conversation remained typical of social calls being made at their end of London—with the exception that Allison internally writhed under the veiled scrutiny of Cameron’s family. Their curiosity was palpable. They were too polite and kind to inquire as to her relationship with him or prying questions about her family and connections. The topics of weather, baby, and health exhausted, Allison sat, feeling like the inept idiot she was, without conversation, without inspiration as to how to conduct this visit. She pounced on the only thing that came to the fore.
“Ma’am, Miss Bradford, Lady Asterly will join us momentarily. It is good of you to call, but I must ask you to oblige me. There is a matter I must attend to as soon as Lady Asterly arrives.”
Crestfallen, Mrs. Bradford said, “We had actually come to meet with you, but the footman at the door assumed we were here for Lady Asterly. Knowing that Cameron runs tame here, we were immediately shown up. It was a happy coincidence to find you here. Agnes and I are delighted to finally meet you in person. We feel we already know you from all that Cameron has said. Don’t we, Agnes dear?”
Miss Bradford peeked up from under the brim of her poke bonnet. “Yes, Mama. You see, Mrs. Davidson, Cameron is the entire focus of our world. We’ve been very anxious for an introduction to someone he admires so much.”
Miss Bradford, having spoken so plainly, if shyly, quickly hid her face. Allison’s heart went out to the young lady. She quite obviously wanted to make a good impression and form a happy relationship. Her eagerness was painful and unsettling, because no matter how willing they were to accept her, there would be no happy ending for her and Cameron.
While striving to carry on a coherent conversation, she struggled to think of a reason to leave as soon as possible and not wait until the lady of the house appeared. She hoped escape was about to be provided when the door opened again, but not to admit Lady Asterly. Another visitor, a woman Allison assumed was a friend of the Asterlys entered, but oddly, the footman handed Allison the calling card. She stared at the name, her vision narrowing to see only the finely scripted letters. It was too late for panic, too late to ignore the yawning hole of despair widening, pulling her down into the darkness.
The footman returned to open the door and announce, “Mrs. Albert Davidson.”
Bewilderment showed large on Mrs. and Miss Bradford’s faces. With a swift grip on her daughter’s wrist, Mrs. Bradford interrupted when Agnes whispered, “But didn’t Cameron say—”
Petite and self-possessed, Mrs. Davidson strode to take a stand between the couches. Clu
tching her reticule to her waist, she demanded, “I will speak to the female calling herself Mrs. Davidson.”
Silence followed this pronouncement. Complete silence. Allison stood, feeling everyone’s attention gravitate to the tableau about to happen. The ton had unerring skill when it came to sniffing out the counterfeit. Gossip and scandal was society’s especial penchant, the more sordid, the more delectable and justifiable to scorn.
Before Allison could think of any way to respond, Lady Asterly entered. After a swift assessment, she said in an undertone to the footman, “Remain here. Close the door.”
Lady Asterly came to stand by Allison, who remained fixed in place, incapable of thought or movement. Having Cameron’s family hear the old scandal was one thing, but flinging the sordid details in their faces and a roomful of people was something she’d never expected. With the appearance of the female caller now scowling at her, there was no wriggle room for avoiding certain facts that only her family knew. That secret was too socially horrific to bring to anyone’s attention. Yet that was exactly what was happening, while she stood, mute and horrified. Heart thumping in her throat, Allison stood, staring at the wall, unwilling and unable to respond.
The newest caller had the sense to curtsey to Lady Asterly. “I beg your indulgence, ma’am. We have not been formally introduced. I am Mrs. Albert Davidson.”
Lady Asterly looked her up and down. “So you’ve said. State your purpose for intruding here without invitation or introduction.”
“Why, ma’am, it should be obvious with the use of my name. I am come to inform you that you have a liar and an imposter under your roof, a female who persuaded my late husband to commit bigamy.”
Allison was exquisitely aware of Cameron’s mother and sister absorbing this exchange with a combination of fascinated horror and confusion. Poor Miss Agnes cringed, withdrawing from the awkwardness, as if she wished to sink into the cushions. Mrs. Bradford wore an expression of perplexed dismay.