by Julie Matern
Having made an immediate decision about Mario, he looked up and said, “Please, give me some time by leaving and stay at the Kings Arms Inn in the village at my expense—”
Mario sought to interrupt. “I need no money, Signore—”
“I insist, I insist, but I will ask this one thing of you; that you swear to tell no one the true reason for your presence until I have had time to discuss this with my wife. Do you understand? There is so much at stake, and I confess I do not know which course to take at this time. I had never considered this ever being discovered and am quite unprepared. Do I have your word that you will keep this to yourself? Can I trust you?”
Mario had not understood everything John said but his agitation spoke volumes and Mario placed his hand over his heart. “I promise, Signore. Tell no one.”
T
Having shown Mario to the door himself, John Haversham returned to the library to deliberate. Never in their wildest dreams had they foreseen a relative coming to lay claim on the child. He sat back in one of the armchairs and allowed his mind to drift back to the past.
Emily had been determined in her belief that the child had been given to them from God and that all the rest would work out. To do otherwise would be to reject God’s gift to them.
They were ignorant of the child’s heritage, other than that the mother had dressed well and alleged that she was a gentlewoman. As to the veracity of her assertion, they could not tell, as her spoken English had been very rudimentary. Knowing how important heritage and blood were to John’s family in particular, it was decided that they would claim the child as their own, relaxation and Mediterranean air being the cause of fertility. Thankfully, propriety and manners would prevent anyone asking more probing questions, and why shouldn’t they be believed? There were no witnesses after all, and why should it ever need to be revealed? After much debate and prayer, it was decided that it was in everyone’s best interests that the truth of her parentage never be disclosed.
For these same reasons, they had never told the child herself, and she was brought up in the belief that she was her parent’s natural child.
A letter had been sent ahead of them to reveal the blessing that had been bestowed upon them. They used the excuse that they had waited to be sure of the child’s survival before making any announcement. Every word of the letter was weighed so as to be truthful yet veiled.
Both sets of joyful grandparents had arranged to be at Haversham House when the little family arrived to celebrate the dear child’s arrival.
All had gone according to plan, and they were called upon but little for details, as they had supposed, it not being deemed appropriate. The darkness of the infant’s locks lent credence to their story and the brown eyes were attributed to kin long passed. The house was in an uproar of felicity, and many prayers of thanks were raised to the heavens.
And so the deception had succeeded and taken root, and family life had passed by like a heavenly dream.
Only now their security had been proven to be an illusion that had been shattered into a million pieces.
Emily rarely came down for breakfast, preferring to take her meal on a tray in her bedchamber. His first decision was that it would be best to address the difficult matter in the privacy of her boudoir.
He knocked lightly on her door, for one moment, hoping that she was still asleep and that he could delay fracturing her peace of mind.
“Come in!” she called lightly, gladness in her tone.
Upon seeing her husband, she patted her bed and bid him sit so that she could embrace him. He allowed the kiss but then went to sit on her armchair, at a little distance. Now she noticed the pained expression his features bore. “My darling, is something wrong?”
“I am afraid it is, my dear. You must brace yourself.”
“John, you are so serious, I am alarmed! Pray, tell me the bad news.”
He waited a beat, then with pained eyes declared, “We are discovered.”
No explanation was needed as she had nursed a buried, nagging fear of discovery her whole life. It was a fear she had learned to live with.
“Who?” she whispered.
Twenty-Two
UV
ENGLAND
Emily Haversham bowed her head and wiped her eyes with the sheet. The decision they had made, which they were so sure was right all those years ago, was at this moment flooding her with a rushing, gnawing guilt. Her breakfast rolled in her stomach. She was suddenly acutely aware of so many sounds in the previously silent bedroom as emotion heightened her senses; her husband’s rapid, shallow breaths, the clock ticking, gardeners calling to each other outside, birds singing, unaware that the world had just toppled off its axis. A buzzing fly was trying desperately to get out of the window; she wished she could join it.
She raised her head slowly, her undressed hair forming a veil over her face. She shuddered a breath and whispered, “What do you think we should do, John? She might hate us for not telling her.”
“I have thought of little else for the last thirty minutes and I have reached several conclusions. On the one hand, I believe that a lonely, ailing old man who has recently received the joyous news of a hitherto unknown granddaughter deserves to know her, if she desires it. On the other hand, her birth mother never indicated that she desired such a reunion, so I feel sure we would be within our rights to prohibit a meeting. However, as a Christian who is trying to live a life modeled after the Savior, I feel that since this knowledge has been uncovered, we are morally bound to honor the old man’s wishes, let the chips fall where they may.”
“You mean, by that, I suppose, that our families may reject Francesca as she is not a blood relative and is of unknown heritage. Do you really believe that their love is so shallow?”
“I have every reason to believe that your parent’s love will remain unchanged, though they may need time to adjust and come to terms with the deception—for though we had the best motives—it was a deception. But when it comes to my parents … well, there my hope fails. My mother, particularly, has built herself such an empire around class distinctions that I fear she would rather shun her own granddaughter than lose her standing in society. And I know for a fact that my father is the worst kind of snob, for whom pedigree is more precious even than gold. I suspect their reaction will not be the best.”
He pushed her chin up with his finger and looked into her striking blue eyes, eyes now clouded by uneasiness.
She shook her head away and cried, “This was never supposed to happen! Why did this happen? Why? What will I do if she becomes angry? I could not endure it if she left us. She is my world, John. I have poured everything into her, my very heart and soul and if she were to reject me …”
“Hush, she will not. You are her mother; you have always been and will always be her mother. She is a good girl, and though she may balk at the news at first, I think she will consider the facts and see that our motives were pure.”
“But she will want to go …”
“Of course she will! Wouldn’t you? Let us go with her. It will be an adventure!”
“What if she prefers it there and decides to stay?”
“She is a grown woman now. I don’t believe we can stop her and that would not lead to good relations. We must let her go and hope she comes back. I am certain that she will, eventually.”
“Hope she comes back …” Emily’s face crumpled and John wiped a tear away with his thumb.
“Come now, be brave! We will weather this together! It seems that our decision has been made, and it is the moral one. Onward and upward!”
T
“Francesca, Mama and I would like to have a private word with you. Come, let us go into the drawing room.”
Francesca’s pulse quickened, and her stomach clenched. Had someone told her parents of her indiscretion? Had Phillip betrayed her? No! She could not believe it. One thing she could count on for sure was Phillip’s dependability and honor. She racked her mind to think who might have
betrayed her. Aunt Barrington? Again, no! She was sure that her aunt and uncle did not suspect anything since she had forced herself to be animated and cheerful on the journey back from Brighton.
Had she been told she was to meet her Maker she could not have been more nervous. Her feet felt heavy as cannon balls as she forced herself to cross the hall into the drawing room.
As the door to the room opened the first thing she beheld was her mother, seated on her chaise, with a perfectly terrible expression upon her lovely face. She knew! Francesca was about to mount her defense when her father bid her sit and began to speak. She braced herself, flinching at his voice, and it took her several phrases to realize that he was not speaking about Mr. Ashbourne.
“I am sorry, Papa,” she said in surprise. “Can you say that again?”
Emily and John glanced at each other, and it was only with herculean effort that Emily’s face did not collapse in despair.
“I said, my dear, that we have had some news that is of great import to you, and we feel honor-bound to reveal it. It will not place us in the best of light, so I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive us.”
Relief bathed her soul like waves breaking on the shore. They did not know! They had not called her in for an interview of reprimand and damage control. Indeed, they were asking for her forgiveness. She looked again at the stricken face of her mother and ran to her side.
“Of course, I forgive you of all and any offense, without reservation,” she declared, holding her mother’s delicate hand in her own and kissing it.
“You do not yet know the offense, my darling. You may feel the need to repeal your forgiveness,” whispered her mother.
“Now you are scaring me!” Francesca declared, looking from one anxious parent to the other. “Pray tell me and ease my concern.”
“For many years after your mother and I married, we were not blessed with children,” began John.
“That I know well,” she proclaimed. “It has never been a secret.”
“’Tis true, ’tis true, but we do have a secret that we have kept for many years.”
The scales of concern tipped from fear of exposure to fear of treachery. She let her mother’s hand slip from her own and turned to face her father. “A secret?”
“Your mother’s health was in decline and so we journeyed to the Riviera—”
“I know, I was born there,” she said in relief, hoping that this was the secret.
“Yes, yes you were born there. But the secret lies with how you came to us.”
Francesca knit her brows in confusion.
“We had gone to the Riviera for your mother’s health, and while we were there, we made the acquaintance of a young woman, an Italian woman. Her name was Mrs. Grimaldi, or so she told us, and she had come to the area for her lying in and was to be joined by her husband. She was a pleasant young woman in the full bloom of imminent motherhood, and she would join us on our daily walks around the village square. After several weeks, she disappeared and we assumed, correctly, that her time had come and she had delivered her baby. After another few weeks, we were surprised to see her again. She had delivered a baby girl, and her husband had gone back to Italy and she was to join him soon. She asked your mother if she would hold the baby while she ran an errand. I was greatly concerned as it was very difficult for your mother to be around infants at that time. However, your mother implored me to allow her the opportunity. If you could have seen your mother’s face as she held that baby. It was as though some great injustice had been righted, the last piece of a puzzle fitted in to complete it. Click. We admired and cooed at the baby for some time, and then I looked around expectantly for the young mother’s return. She was nowhere to be seen. I began a search in earnest but to no avail. I rushed back to your mother, who looked so much like a Madonna that I was loathe to break the spell.
“Your mother clutched the baby to her at the news, and as she did so a letter fluttered out of the blankets.”
He extended something to her. “Here is that letter.”
Twenty-Three
UV
ENGLAND
Emily chewed the inside of her mouth as her nerves chewed up her insides. Her eyes focused on her daughter as she read the letter that could forever sever their familial bond. John watched anxiously also, tapping his knee as he waited to see the dawn of comprehension upon his daughter’s fine features.
As Francesca read, her face displayed a rapid spectrum of emotions; initially, her brows were pinched tight as she accepted the letter and began to read, then her lips pursed, her eyes widened with shock at the mention of an illegitimate child, then filled with sparkling tears as she clutched the letter to her breast and looked at her mother and father, who were as taut as piano strings, awaiting the verdict that would determine the happiness or misery of their future lives.
“I am the baby.” It was not a question, rather a statement.
They need not have feared. Francesca’s heart melted and she ran to embrace them. Emily and John began to breathe again.
“Why did you never tell me?” she blurted out into the vest of her father.
“There seemed no good reason. You were our child, and there was no benefit to anyone else knowing. In fact, the opposite could have been true, indeed, it still could be.”
Francesca sat up wiping at her eyes, a quizzical look returning to her features.
“You are the granddaughter of Sir John Haversham. You stand to inherit his fortune, but only as the natural heir. Until today, no one knew that you were not, in fact, the natural heir, and this knowledge may have the power to change your future dramatically.”
“She says she was a gentlewoman, Papa—”
“Yes, my darling, but she does not say that your father was a gentleman. In fact, we had no reason to believe that she herself was a woman of rank, only her own words. Her clothes were fine, but other than that, we could not tell her breeding, as her English was primitive and she had no maid in attendance or nurse. I hope you see that this did not matter to us. We loved you anyway and made a deliberate decision that we would not share unnecessary information with our family that might prejudice them against you. We could have had no idea that the truth of your birth would ever be exposed.”
“Why are you telling me now, Papa?”
His heart took courage at the term of endearment and he cleared his throat. “I received an unexpected visit, early this morning, from the agent of your natural grandfather. It appears that your natural mother has recently died, without children, and upon her deathbed confessed to her father that she had given birth to a child in her youth, so that he might not find himself alone in the world in his old age. It seems that she was truthful, that she was, indeed, a woman of rank, as your grandfather is the owner of a vast acreage of vineyards. He desires to meet you and make you his heir.”
Francesca leaned back and let out a long breath.
“The birthmark you bear upon your neck is inherited from her.”
Unconsciously, her fingers traveled to the familiar mark.
“It is so much to take in!”
“Of course it is,” said Emily. “We will give you time to digest the news and then you must tell us, honestly, what you want to do.”
“What I want to do?”
“You must now decide if you intend to claim this gentleman as your kin and whether you want to disclose the connection to anyone, or keep it entirely private. There are ramifications for each course of action, and you must ponder carefully the road you take from here. Forgive us for thrusting this difficult choice upon you. Know that your father and I will support you in whatever decision you make. You are and always will be our daughter.”
“But I need your help …”
“Of course, we will offer advice, but we feel that you need time to come to terms with everything first. Go for a ride, pray, think, and then come and find us.”
T
“I am an Italian.” Francesca murmured this repeatedly in
her mind in an attempt to make it feel true, but it did not. She was not even sure how she felt about the change in her status, there were too many emotions muddying the field.
She was an illegitimate child, and she knew well how badly that would be received. Indeed, she knew that her parents were correct in saying that she may be rejected by many in society who, at the present, claimed affection for her. Her parents were not mistaken; this was not information to share without serious and careful consideration of the possible consequences, consequences that would change the way people regarded her. Was she emotionally strong enough for the possible aftermath? The more prudent path may be never to mention it and preserve her world intact.
However, she was experiencing a burning curiosity to see the land of her birth mother and the gentleman who was her natural grandfather. She felt an unseen cord, pulling her to travel to Italy and satisfy her inquisitiveness.
Her thoughts whirled around and around, presenting no clear conclusion. After some time of wandering aimlessly, she looked up and noticed that she was almost upon the land of Phillip’s family. Phillip! They had not kept company since her return from Brighton by tacit agreement. She appreciated his discretion and was glad of the time to recover from her ordeal. Now that she felt stronger, she knew that he was the perfect person to consult on the matter.
He was so wise and would present a disinterested party who would examine the facts with a degree of distance, helping her make a decision. Dear Phillip. He would not reject her! She urged her horse onward, and as she entered the drive to the Waverley Estate, she saw Phillip preparing to leave on his own horse.
“Hello there! Phillip!”
She waved her whip over her head and the sight in his peripheral vision, rather than her voice, caught his attention. He turned his horse in her direction and cantered over.
“Francesca, to what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I have something of great import to discuss with you, if you are at leisure to do so.”