by Cheryl Holt
“I had to speak with my sister. There was an issue at home.”
“Nothing horrid I hope.”
“No. I just wasn’t sure how she’d want me to handle it.”
She glared at him, and when he awkwardly pretended not to notice, his companion blustered forward.
“I am Miss Smith. Miss Prudence Smith. Everyone calls me Pru.”
“Hello, Miss Smith,” Jo murmured.
“I’m an old…friend of Mr. Townsend’s.” Jo didn’t reply. She simply continued to glare at him, and Miss Smith said to Jo, “And you are…?”
Her sharp question jolted Mr. Townsend out of his stupor. “Pru, this is Maud’s sister, Josephine. Jo Bates. I’ve told you about her.”
“Yes, you have.” Miss Smith scathingly assessed Jo. “She’s quite a bit prettier than you described her to be.”
“Yes, she’s always been pretty.” Mr. Townsend was practically stammering. “Jo? This is Miss Smith.”
“I heard her, Mr. Townsend,” Jo said.
“Well, good.” He tipped his hat to Jo. “Enjoy your trip to London.”
“I will.”
“If we could…ah…keep this encounter between you and me, I’d be ever so grateful.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Townsend, I would never be brave enough to tell Maud about any of your acquaintances.”
He hesitated, as if he’d defend his conduct, but he thought better of it. He and Miss Smith sauntered off, and Jo exhaled a heavy breath. Clearly, Miss Smith was much more than a friend, and if Mr. Townsend had illicit tendencies, Jo wouldn’t be surprised. She’d never liked him, and she liked him even less now.
Was Miss Smith his mistress? Would he support her with Maud’s dowry? Was that his plan?
Her mind raced as she tried to determine what her response should be. Should she mention the incident to Maud? Or should she stay out of it? Husbands usually had secrets from their wives. Why should Maud’s marriage be any different?
With Jo having so recently learned about Neville Prescott’s many peccadilloes, she was extremely disheartened. Were there any honorable men left in the world?
On the spur of the moment, she couldn’t decide the best course. She wasn’t a liar, and if she remained silent, she would be committing a lie by omission. If Jo were about to be a bride, would she be eager to hear this sort of damning information?
How about Maud? Would she believe a story like this? Probably not, so what was the point of veracity?
Besides, Daisy had to be the main topic of conversation. Mr. Townsend and his possible amour were immaterial to Jo’s current task.
She entered the hotel and announced herself at the front desk. Shortly, she was escorted to her sister’s room. The building was very grand, and the rental rates very high, so Maud was spending a fortune she didn’t have, but appearances mattered to her sister.
Her suite was as grand as the foyer, like a small apartment, with posh furnishings and expensive rugs and drapes. There was a desk by the window, and Maud was seated at it and writing a letter.
“Jo! You’re the very last person I expected to see in London,” her sister said after the servant had departed.
“I had to talk to you.”
“I’ll be home in a few days. It couldn’t wait until then?”
“No.”
“For pity’s sake. You’re always in such a dither.”
“Am I? It doesn’t seem that way to me. I generally picture myself as being very calm.”
“Trust me, you constantly act as if the sky is about to fall.”
“It has fallen on us occasionally, Maud. Perhaps I’m wise to fret. Perhaps you should fret a tad more.”
It was mid-morning, and her sister was up and dressed. There were food remnants on a table by the hearth. Jo had fled Benton House without eating, and she was starving. She walked over and sat down. There was still tea in the pot and muffins in a basket. She helped herself as Maud went into the bedchamber to primp in the mirror.
“As I arrived,” Jo called through the door, “I bumped into Mr. Townsend.”
“Yes, I asked him to come by. I was hoping we could visit his tailor to check on his wedding suit, but he was busy.”
Jo nearly choked on her muffin. “Was he?”
“He’s an important man,” Maud testily said. “He can’t waste time on frivolous activities.”
“I’m sure not. He was with a Miss Prudence Smith.” There was a lengthy pause, and Jo added, “Have you been introduced to her?”
“No. Why would I have? He’s very popular here in town, and he has many friends.”
“I didn’t like her. She seemed a bit vulgar to me.”
“Your opinion about his companions is irrelevant.”
That was as far as Jo dared to go with any disclosures about Mr. Townsend. Maud could assess the remark however she wished.
Jo went into the bedchamber too, and she balanced her hips on the edge of the mattress. Maud ignored her and sifted in her jewelry box, slipping a bracelet on her wrist, slipping it off, trying on another.
Jo studied her, struggling to discern hints of Daisy, but Maud’s features were hard and brittle while Daisy’s were sweet and happy. It was difficult to find any resemblance.
“What is it?” Maud eventually asked. “What’s brought you all this way? If you’d drag yourself to the city, it must be hideous.”
She spun on her stool so she was facing Jo, and Jo couldn’t bear to begin. For the moment, none of the scandal was real, but the minute the words were voiced aloud, there could be no taking them back, and their lives would never be the same.
“You received a letter the other day,” she said. “You’d told me to deal with all the correspondence, so I opened it without wondering if I should.”
“And…?”
“It was from Mr. Slater at Benton Manor.”
Panic flashed in Maud’s eyes, but it was hastily concealed. She gazed at Jo dispassionately, her demeanor bored.
“Should I know who he is?” Maud asked.
“Don’t feign confusion, Maud. I traveled to Benton to speak with him, so I’ve learned all the gory details. You don’t have a secret from me anymore.”
“You traveled to Benton? You little mouse. I can’t believe you mustered the courage.”
Jo sighed, recognizing the discussion would be just as horrid as she’d imagined. “Would you like me to tell you why he contacted you?”
“Since I have no idea who he is, I can categorically state that I don’t care.”
“I met Daisy.”
“Who is Daisy?” Maud had the temerity to inquire.
“Maud! Stop it!”
“Stop what?”
They engaged in a staring match, and while Maud was bigger and older and in charge of their money, Jo always held the moral high ground in their quarrels. She possessed a decency and integrity that Maud could never equal.
Maud’s cheeks flushed, and she yanked off her bracelet and threw it on the dressing table. “Fine. You met Daisy. I won’t pretend to be unaware of who she is.”
“Thank you.”
“What did Slater want?”
“Neville Prescott has died.”
“The bastard’s finally dead?” Maud crudely spat, “Good riddance.”
Jo was desperate to pry out the particulars of Maud’s affair with Neville. Did he force himself on her? Or had she been willingly seduced? Had she naively expected he’d marry her afterward? Had she hoped she’d become his countess—without her realizing he already had a countess in place?
But Jo doubted her sister would freely provide any information.
Instead, she said, “His death has altered things for the Prescott family—and for you.”
“What things?”
“Daisy’s shelter at Benton is ending. With Neville Prescott no longer present to protect her, his widow is demanding she leave.”
“Why bother me with this
?”
“Mr. Slater is working to find a new home for her. He’s asked if we could bring her to live with us at Telford.”
“No!” Maud vehemently huffed. “Absolutely not. I won’t have it.”
“If we won’t take her, he’ll send her to an orphanage.”
“Why would that concern me?”
“Maud! Shame on you. I won’t listen to that kind of cruel comment.”
“Jo, this really isn’t any of your business. It’s a Prescott problem, and I suggest you butt out.”
“Not my business! She’s my only niece—unless there are others you’ve been hiding from me too.”
“Others! What a ghastly remark. How dare you impugn me!”
“If you intend to act in a ghastly manner, then ghastly remarks are required.”
“I won’t be scolded by you,” Maud fumed.
“Yes, you will. I had no idea Daisy existed. Now that I’ve learned about her, can you actually suppose I’ll permit you to abandon her?”
“It’s not up to you.”
“She’s not a stray kitten you can toss by the side of the road. For years, you’ve avoided your responsibility to her, but your neglect has caught up with you. She’s your daughter!”
“No, she’s not. Not by any standard that matters.”
“How can you say that?”
“Father let the Prescotts have her, and they promised to support her forever. They swore they would. We have a written agreement!”
“Well, it appears they will decline to honor it.”
“We’d planned to put her out for adoption, and they insisted we shouldn’t, so we delivered her to them instead. It was their choice. At this late date, they have an incredible amount of gall to renege.”
“Their situation has changed.”
“Only because Neville’s dear widow is complaining. Why would I care about that?”
Maud uttered the words dear widow with significant venom, and her tone piqued Jo’s curiosity. Evidently, her suspicions were correct: Maud had expected to be Countess of Benton. Could it be one of the reasons she was so bitter?
“Aren’t you worried about Daisy at all?” Jo asked.
“No.”
“If she winds up in an orphanage, you’ll feel no guilt?”
“Maybe a bit. Those facilities are terrible. I wouldn’t wish one on any child.”
“She’s your own flesh and blood!”
Maud scowled. “You’re very confused, Jo.”
“I am confused? Over what fact?”
“A decade ago, when I was little more than a girl, I had a baby I didn’t want and couldn’t raise. I gave her to her father’s family, and I went on with my life.”
“I realize that.”
“I’m about to marry, Josephine!”
“I understand that you are.”
“What would Mr. Townsend think if I suddenly showed up with a bastard daughter?”
“Perhaps you and Mr. Townsend need to have a long, frank talk.”
“I’d rather pluck my eyes out than tell him about her.”
“I can tell him for you,” Jo brashly stated. “I don’t mind.”
Maud blanched with alarm. “You’ll tell him over my dead body.”
“How will you keep this secret from him? He’ll be your husband. What if he finds out about it and discovers you tricked him? What then?”
“Mr. Townsend will never find out, and if he does, I’ll know who tattled. I’d kill you for it, Jo. I truly would. You shouldn’t push me on this.”
Jo scoffed with exasperation. “Don’t be melodramatic, and don’t threaten me. You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m not being ridiculous. Just betray me, and see what happens.”
“I don’t plan to betray you. We have to assist her. How can I persuade you that it’s our duty?”
“It’s not our duty,” Maud infuriatingly replied. “She’s a stranger to us.”
“Stop saying that.” Jo threw up her hands. “She’s your daughter and my niece. I can’t desert her. I won’t. You can’t force me to.”
“Can’t I? Who supports you, Jo? Who feeds you, clothes you, and shelters you? Who is letting you remain with me after I’m wed? It’s me, remember? It’s your sister, Maud Bates, who’s about to be Mrs. Thompson Townsend. You will not wreck this for me!”
It was the cudgel that allowed Maud to lord herself over Jo. The house they resided in belonged to Maud. All their money belonged to Maud. Their father hadn’t left a farthing to Jo, thanks to Maud’s scheming when he’d suffered through his last illness.
Jo had been a girl, and Maud had convinced him to name her as Jo’s guardian. She’d insisted she would watch over Jo, and their father—with his deteriorating mental acuity—had believed her.
Jo’s dowry had been funded when she was first born, but no other financial arrangements had been instituted after that. When her father died, none of their assets had been put into a trust for her, so nothing had been protected from creditors.
If was another sin to lay at Maud’s feet. If money had been stashed away in a trust, they’d still have all of it. As with Jo’s dowry, Maud had implemented numerous fiscal decisions that were reckless and foolish, and because of it, Jo was at her sister’s mercy.
She had to live by Maud’s rules or she had to depart. The trouble was that she’d never had anywhere to go.
Jo prayed for patience. “I’m not trying to wreck your marriage, Maud.”
“It certainly sounds like it. I’d be mad to welcome that child when I’m about to have a new husband.”
“I’m just anxious to aid her. Is that too much to ask?”
“Yes, Jo, it’s too much.”
Jo hadn’t made an inch of headway, but how could she have imagined a different ending? Still though, she couldn’t back down. Daisy’s future hung in the balance.
“We could pretend she’s one of my mother’s relatives,” Jo said.
“No.”
“We could claim she’s a distant cousin of mine who was orphaned.”
“No!” Maud repeated more firmly. “I would never risk it.”
“We can’t ignore her.”
“Yes, we can. Haven’t you been listening? I gave her away, and it was the right option for me. I won’t reconsider.”
“What would you suggest then? If she perishes from lung fever in an orphanage, are you fine with that conclusion?”
“If she succumbed to a fatal malady, it would be a tragedy, but how could I prevent it?”
“Let me bring her home, Maud. Please!”
“You can bring her anywhere you like, Jo. You can play the role of savior and work a miracle. As soon as you walk out of this room, you can race to Benton and fetch her. Just don’t show up on my stoop, hoping for sanctuary. I won’t provide it.”
Jo’s spirits flagged. They glared at each other, and Jo nearly called Maud’s bluff. What if she conveyed Daisy to Telford despite Maud’s demand that she not? Would Maud really bar the door? Would she kick them out on the road? Could she behave that despicably to her only daughter and only sister?
She’d always been horrid to Jo, and Jo often felt her function in life was to be Maud’s moral compass, to nudge her sister so she wasn’t quite so selfish. Had they finally arrived at the spot where it was impossible to guide her into better conduct? What then?
“If you would meet her, Maud.” Jo was begging. She couldn’t help it. “She’s pretty and sweet. It would soften your attitude toward her. I’m positive it would.”
“It wouldn’t, Jo. I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t.”
“She’s so cute. She’s blond and blue-eyed like you. She’s educated and funny and—”
Maud cut her off. “That’s enough! I won’t have you badgering me.”
“Maud!”
Her sister spun around so she was facing the mirror, and she started fussing with her hair as if she hadn’t a care in the
world.
“Will that be all, Jo?” she blandly asked. “Was there anything else you needed to discuss? If not, you should head home. If you delay much longer, you’ll miss the last coach.”
Jo could have raged and quarreled, but in light of Maud’s intransience, what was the point?
She’d known her sister forever, and over the years, she’d figured out how to coerce her. She hadn’t succeeded on this occasion, but she hadn’t expected to.
There would be plenty of opportunities to whittle away at her stern opinion. Lord Benton had promised to rein in Mr. Slater, had promised to wipe away the July fifteenth deadline, so no immediate resolution was required. It meant she had time to plot a strategy that would change Maud’s mind—and she would change it.
Of that fact, she had no doubt.
She whipped away and left without a goodbye.
* * * *
Maud froze as Jo stomped out. Once the door closed, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Her hands were shaking, and she rushed to the sitting room where there was a brandy decanter. She poured herself a tall glass and swallowed it down, then she went to the window and stared outside.
She wished she could see her sister leaving the hotel to be sure she was gone, but her suite looked out on an alley. The front entrance wasn’t visible, so she was denied the satisfaction of furtively watching.
She’d met Neville Prescott when she was sixteen. A school classmate had invited her to London for the Christmas holidays, and the girl’s mother had been a lazy chaperone. They’d had few restrictions on their choice of activities or companions.
Her first night out on the town, he’d been at a party hosted by some friends. She’d been a naïve girl from a village in the country while he’d been a dashing, sophisticated man who was almost a decade older. She’d been bowled over by him, and she hadn’t stood a chance of resisting his advances.
They’d spent a wild month, engaged in what she’d thought was a clandestine love affair. When she’d returned to school in January, she’d been ruined, but she’d been in love. She’d believed he was a bachelor who would propose, and they’d live happily ever after.
It was only after weeks of writing poignant, unanswered letters that she discovered he was already married.