“Why?” Cara asked, startled. “What did you find?”
Langham glanced around, though Cara doubted anyone could approach without their knowing. “I found a stack of letters from a woman who is clearly Amelia’s mother, and who is clearly still alive.”
Cara drew in a breath. “Is it Olivia?”
“No. Her name is Delia. She is not someone Henry knew. She is someone I knew.”
His words were heavy. He looked at the ground, shuffling a toe in the gravel and shaking his head.
“Are you saying Amelia is your daughter?” Cara was so shocked at the idea she could barely say the words. “How could you not know—or even suspect?”
She asked as kindly as she could, but Langham spit out his answer as though it was an accusation. “I don’t know! It doesn’t make any sense! I mean, it does, but it doesn’t!”
“Perhaps if you told me what you know, that would help sort out your thoughts,” Cara said gently.
He took a slow breath, as though trying to calm himself. “You’re right. Well, one summer, when I was sixteen, which was about eight years ago—no surprise, considering Amelia’s age—I had a habit of walking to the Boar’s Head Inn. That’s a tavern in the village. I’d go there once or twice a week, whenever I could sneak away. I found the company there more congenial than at my house.”
Given what Cara had seen of the Burke family, she could easily believe this. She nodded, waiting for Langham to continue.
“Delia worked at the tavern. She was a few years older than me, the daughter of a farmer, although she lived in a room above the tavern. We became friendly. I would stay late, and sometimes when her work was done, she and I would sit on the grass by the narrow river that runs through town. We’d look up at the stars, talking.” He shrugged. “And drinking.” Another pause. “And—” He gave Cara a sideways glance. “Well, other things. Although we never went so far as—that is, I don’t think we did.”
Cara’s eyes widened in surprise.
He held up his hands. “I know what you’re thinking—how could I not know? Well, one night toward the end of summer, I purloined enough money from my father’s purse to buy a very nice bottle of brandy. Delia and I drank the entire thing, and we had a jolly good time doing it. We passed out cold at some point. We were discovered under the bridge at daybreak by my father, who’d gone out searching for me. You can imagine how angry he was. He dragged me home and kept me under lock and key until I was sent off to school three days later.”
“Did you have any contact with her after that?”
“No. And here’s the thing—I could swear in a court of law that nothing happened, and yet there seems to be proof to the contrary.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Here’s one of the many letters I found. It’s the most recent, dated not even a month ago. It appears she owns a millinery shop, but it isn’t doing well.”
He handed the letter to Cara, staring at the ground while she read it. It was addressed to Henry and signed by Delia Stover. Its purpose was to request money. One paragraph in particular tugged at Cara’s heart.
I have kept my word and not spoken of this to anyone. Nor have I asked to see my dear girl, though being apart from her these years has been a sore trial and has broken my heart a dozen times over. Won’t you consider all that I have given up for her sake and find charity in your soul to give me a little more help? More than once I have been asked how I came to be in such straightened circumstances, and it is hard work to keep telling those lies. I fear that if things go on like this, one day I might accidentally let slip the truth—and that would be a terrible misfortune for everyone.
Cara refolded the letter and handed it back to Langham. “You don’t think it’s possible that somehow Delia and Henry . . . ?”
He shook his head. “Henry was off hiking in Wales and later falling in love with Jacob’s sister.” He slapped the letter against his hand. “All this time, Henry has believed I fathered Amelia, and he never told me! I’d wager my mother knows, too.”
“Why wouldn’t they have told you?”
“I don’t know. But I’ve got to get to the bottom of it. I’ve spent most of the day with Amelia, looking at her in a new light, as you might imagine, trying to see if there are any similarities.” He shook his head. “Her dark hair and hazel eyes aren’t like anyone in our family. Delia had dark hair but blue eyes.” He shook his head again. “You can see why I find this so confusing.”
“Well, Amelia likes bad jokes,” Cara offered. “And don’t forget her fascination with drawing and painting.”
“But she’s not very good at it, is she? I know she’s only seven, but I worked with her today and I can’t see any great talent there, waiting to be developed. Mr. Perrine mentioned the same thing to me privately, although he naturally gives her encouragement and praise. I do like Amelia, though. More than I’d realized.” He looked earnestly at Cara. “If Amelia is my daughter, I want to set things right. I want to do what’s best for her. It’s incredibly sobering.”
“Will you wait until Henry comes home and then confront him and her ladyship at the same time?”
“No.” He stood, shoving the letter into his pocket. “I can’t risk that they will tell me more lies.”
“But how can they, when you’ve seen the letters?”
“They’d find a way. I’ve got to find Delia and talk to her myself. I’m going tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Cara repeated, rising from the bench. “Why so soon?”
“I’ve got to do it before Henry comes back.” He grasped her arms. “Listen, Cara. This is so important. I’ve done plenty of things in my life that were not exactly laudable. Henry has accused me of being a master at shirking responsibility, and perhaps I have been. I’m certainly no saint. But I’ll tell you this: I couldn’t live with myself if I thought a child of mine was growing up thinking she had no parents.”
This was exactly the sentiment Cara had tried to draw out of Henry. She understood now why she hadn’t been able to do it. “That is laudable, Langham, no matter what else you may have done.”
He gave her a tiny smile of thanks. “I’m taking the early train, and I’m taking Amelia with me. And you, too. I can’t take care of her by myself.”
“But, Langham!”
“You saw from the letter how much Delia pines after Amelia. Don’t you think she’d want to see her again?”
“But then what?”
“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. But I can’t leave you both here at the mercy of my mother.”
That certainly was not a pleasant prospect, but still Cara wavered.
“Please say you’ll go. I’m desperate for answers. I’ve been running this over and over in my head since I found those letters. I can’t wait another day.”
Cara’s head was still spinning. “I don’t know. . . .”
“I asked Mother yesterday if there was never any forgiveness. I see now why she answered the way she did. She said that some things can’t be recovered from. But I believe she’s wrong. She and Henry have been holding this over my head, and I didn’t even know it. Surely you understand my need to set things right?”
He stared at her beseechingly, not letting go until she finally gave a nod.
“God bless you,” he said fervently, giving her an impulsive hug.
Cara felt shaky, almost light-headed. Was she doing the right thing? She didn’t know, but neither could she refuse Langham’s request. “I’ll talk to Amelia tonight,” she said as Langham released his hold. “What should I tell her?”
CHAPTER
34
CARA WAITED until Jeanne had gotten Amelia to bed. Once the maid had gone downstairs, Cara went to Amelia’s room and eased the door open a few inches.
The room was quiet. In fact, everything about the evening had seemed unnaturally quiet. According to the maid who’d brought dinner to Cara’s room, Amelia was no longer rebelling against orders. Instead, she was acting with stoic calmness. “It didn’t se
em natural for her,” the maid had confessed. Cara was concerned about this change in Amelia’s behavior. Perhaps she was beginning to accept abandonment as a matter of course.
As Cara stood there, she heard the child begin to sing to herself. It was the lullaby Cara had overheard in the garden. It hadn’t occurred to her before, but perhaps Amelia sang this to herself every night. Cara remembered her own mother used to sing her to sleep. After her mother had gone and they moved to the orphanage, Rosalyn had performed that role. It hadn’t been the same, but it had been comforting nonetheless.
Perhaps this trip to Galway Hill, where Delia’s millinery shop was located, was a good idea after all. If this woman was Amelia’s mother, surely there could be some way to make things better for the child.
Cara still worried, though. There had to be a reason Henry had kept this a secret. She hoped it only had to do with the family reputation, and not with the mother herself. Tomorrow she would find out. As Langham had pointed out, learning the truth could be painful, but surely it was better than being kept in ignorance. Cara had been learning this hard lesson ever since she’d left the Needenhams.
She entered the room and closed the door behind her.
Amelia’s singing abruptly stopped. “Who’s there?”
“It’s Miss Bernay.”
Amelia sat up. “Where were you today?” The question was filled with anger and accusation. Cara didn’t blame her.
She lit the lamp on the bedside table, setting it to a dim, soft glow. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you today,” she said as she seated herself on the edge of Amelia’s bed. “I had some things to take care of. It came up rather suddenly, and I didn’t have time to tell you. But I’ve been planning an adventure for us.”
“What kind of adventure?” Amelia still sounded suspicious, but there was a hint of excitement, too.
“We’re going on a train ride tomorrow.”
“The train? Where to?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Is it to the seaside?” Amelia persisted, squirming with pleasure at the idea.
“Perhaps that will happen another time.” Cara chose her words carefully, aware this would probably be her last outing with the girl. “We will have to get up very early. I’ll come wake you and help you dress. We’ll have to be very quiet, because her ladyship might still be sleeping, and we don’t want to disturb her.”
Amelia nodded. She understood this meant the countess wasn’t coming, and a ghost of a smile showed her happiness about that. “Is Cousin Henry coming with us?”
She asked with such hopefulness that it hurt Cara’s heart. The child had really become attached to him. If Langham was her father, it might take some work to move her affections in his direction. However, what Cara had seen of Langham today told her he was willing to do whatever was needed to make that happen.
“Tomorrow it will be just me and you and your cousin Langham, just like when we were together by the brook. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
“I suppose so.”
It wasn’t surprising that Amelia wasn’t overly enthusiastic. After all, Cara had given her only a few details. She was just glad the girl was willing to go.
“Would you like me to read to you before you go to sleep?”
“Yes!” Amelia answered happily, settling back in her bed while Cara found a good story.
Later, when Amelia was clearly about to doze off, Cara closed the book and set it aside.
“Miss Bernay?” Amelia said as Cara rose to leave.
“Yes?”
“Will you tell me next time you have to go and arrange something?”
Cara’s heart went out to the girl, all the more because she knew she couldn’t truly make that promise. “I’ll do my best.”
As they approached the house, Henry took in the view with increasing anticipation. He couldn’t wait to see Cara again, to tell her what he’d discovered from Michael Stephenson, to share her happiness when she was reunited with her family—including the father she’d been mourning all these years.
Miss Leahy was in the open carriage with him. She wore black in remembrance of her mother but was ready to return to her duties. Henry had told her enough about what had transpired while she was away that she’d be able to disregard whatever comments his mother made on the subject.
He was confident Amelia would be happy to have her governess back again. He didn’t even worry about the child’s reaction to seeing Cara leave, because Henry had decided he would do his best to convince her to stay. He didn’t know how he was going to work it all out, but there had to be a way.
He expected to see Amelia running to meet them. Surely the girl would want to greet the governess she’d always liked, even on days when she was cross. The grounds were quiet, however, as the carriage rolled to a stop. Henry got down and handed Miss Leahy out of the carriage.
Miss Leahy, also familiar with Amelia’s habits, noticed the lack of greeting, too. “Where do you suppose Amelia is?”
“Perhaps they are at the studio. Or the stables.”
But even as Henry spoke, he had a feeling something was amiss. He couldn’t explain why. Something about the way the dust settled in the drive just felt wrong.
It wasn’t until they went inside and Henry heard the commotion upstairs that he realized why no one had noticed the arrivals. “Wait here,” he instructed Miss Leahy and headed for the staircase.
He heard his mother’s shrill voice, which became clearer as he raced up the stairs. He followed the sounds to his mother’s private parlor. She stood in the middle of the room, angrily waving a piece of paper as she interrogated the butler. “This is absurd! Are you sure you’ve searched everywhere?”
“What’s wrong, Mother?” Henry asked as he entered the room.
“The maid found this note in the nursery this morning when she took up Amelia’s breakfast. The child is gone—and so are Langham and that woman.”
“Amelia wrote you a note?”
“Don’t be daft. Langham wrote it, very prettily informing us they’ve decided to take a trip.”
Henry snatched the paper from his mother’s hand and scanned it. Sure enough, the note stated that the three of them were going away for a day or so and—in Langham’s typically nonchalant words—they shouldn’t worry.
Whatever this adventure was, he couldn’t see it boding well. “It doesn’t say where they’re going. Do you have any idea?”
“Not in the least.”
“What about Mr. Hart? Or any of the stable hands?”
“I’ve just come from the stables, my lord,” Jensen said. “Mr. Hart has confirmed that none of the horses are gone.”
“How far could they get if they are traveling on foot?” his mother said.
“They might have walked to the railway station,” the butler suggested. “It’s three miles by road, but if you walk through the southwest field, it’s nearly a mile shorter.”
“I’ll ask at the station,” Henry said. “If Langham was there, someone is bound to remember.”
“We may now add kidnapping to that woman’s charge!” his mother bellowed as Henry made for the door.
Henry had no idea what that meant, but he wasn’t going to take the time to find out.
“Why yes, your lordship, Mr. Burke came through here this morning.” The ticket agent answered Henry’s question without hesitation. “Your ward was with him, sir. Miss Amelia is turning into a pretty little girl, if I may say so. There was a young lady with them, too.”
“Where were they going? To London?” That would make it easier to find them—unless they didn’t return to D’Adamo’s place. Then they’d be lost anywhere in that giant city.
“Let me see . . .” The ticket agent lifted his cap and scratched his forehead as he thought back to this morning. “No, sir, it wasn’t London,” he said, replacing his cap. “It was somewhere north. Shropshire, that’s it.”
Shropshire.
That one word brought forward a niggling worry
Henry had been trying to suppress. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yes, sir. Took the nine forty-five on the Great Northern line.”
Henry could only surmise that Langham had learned about Delia Stover. How he had done so, Henry didn’t know. Taking Amelia to see her mother now would be incredibly foolish. Their carefully crafted story—a pack of lies, he readily admitted—was in danger of falling apart in a messy and unpredictable way. As angry as Henry was, he was most worried about the harm to Amelia at being abruptly confronted with this sordid situation. She was too young for such things.
What was Cara’s role in this? Had she tried to talk sense into his brother, or was she a willing participant? Either way, she was equally at fault.
Henry now had to chase them down and try to mitigate whatever damage might be done. He reached into his pocket for money. “When is the next train?”
When they reached the little town of Galway Hill, they obtained directions to the address on Delia’s letters. The millinery shop was located on a narrow street several blocks from the town’s main thoroughfare. It was flanked by other dingy shops that gave the area a slightly unsavory feel.
A sign on the door read, Back in One Hour.
“That’s perplexing,” Langham said. “One hour from when? And why would she close shop in the middle of the day?” He stepped back, inspecting the building. “It looks like someone lives above the shop, but I don’t see any exterior stairs. It must be reached from the inside.”
Cara peered in the window. She could see no one, but there was a light just beyond a curtained doorway at the far end of the shop. Pointing toward it, she said, “Maybe she lives at the back.”
They still had not told Amelia why they had come here. Cara had persuaded Langham that it might be best to wait until they could discover the truth. Amelia held Cara’s hand, but her nose scrunched in distaste as she looked at the down-at-heel street. Overcast skies only added to the gloom.
Despite the sign indicating the place was closed, Langham tried the door. Surprisingly, it was unlocked.
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