A Shameful Secret (28 page)

Thinking about what might have been was too hard. Thinking of Paul lying in his bed, calling for her in a fever was too painful. Several times it was in her mind to turn back, but she conquered her selfish needs. Lady Longstanton had shown her where her duty lay, and how could she question her wisdom?

She admired her husband’s mother very much and had wanted to be like her, loved and respected by her family. Now that dream was ended, for everyone would see her as tainted—the woman who had born a child out of wedlock and then had the temerity to marry a man of upright standing like Paul. He was the perfect English gentleman, honorable, brave, strong, and honest—but he had been forced to lie to protect her.

It was no use. She had made the break, and there was no going back now. As painful as it was, she must leave things the way they were. Paul might hate her for deserting him at this time, but perhaps that was for the best. He would divorce her, and in time, he would find someone else to love.

* * * *

Paul’s eyelids flickered and opened as he struggled through the fog of the fever that had lain over him for a day and two nights. He was cooler now and becoming conscious of a terrible burning pain in his shoulder, though for the moment he could not remember what caused it.

“Hester,” he murmured. “Water . . . please, water . . .”

“Here you are, my dearest,” someone said, and a cup was placed to his lips as a soft arm supported him, helping him to drink. “You will feel better soon.”

“Hester.” He sighed. “Is that you?”

He was restless, for something was not right, but in his weakened state, he could not think what it was. He drifted into sleep once more, and when he woke again, the sun was shining in the window. He moaned and threw up an arm to shield his eyes, groaning as he felt a sharp pain.

“Please . . . draw the curtains.”

“Is the sun in your eyes, my dearest?”

Paul focused on the person who had spoken, realising that it was his mother. She had been tending him—but where was Hester? Where was his wife? Why was she not with him?

“Hester . . . ask her to come,” he said in a fretful tone. “I need to see her. Please.”

“I am sorry, I cannot do that, Paul.”

“Why?” Something was wrong. Suddenly, Paul was fully conscious. Aware of the nagging pain in his shoulder, he eased himself up against the pillows and stared at his mother through narrowed eyes. “Where is my wife?”

“She . . . is not here,” Lady Longstanton said guiltily. He had called for Hester so often in his fever and she had come to understand the depth of his need for the girl he had married and to regret the hasty words that had driven Hester away. ‘she left almost at once after . . .”

“Why did she go, Mother?” He could see the guilt in her eyes and he knew how sensitive Hester was concerning what she thought of as her shame. “What did you say to her?”

Lady Longstanton’s gaze fell before his. “I merely asked if what that man said was true, and she . . . she said that she ought never to have married you. She was distressed because she had brought shame on the family, and she said that she would go away at once so that you might have the marriage annulled.”

“And what did you say then? Did you tell her that she must stay—or did you tell her to go?”

“I am sorry, Paul. I thought it best that she leave. I was so angry with her for bring scandal to this family that I spoke hastily. I have since regretted it.”

“I should damned well hope so!” Paul growled, throwing the covers back and swinging his legs to the side of the bed. “None of this was Hester’s fault. If you want the truth, she was raped as near as, damn it, even if the man concerned was half in love with her. Her father treated her abominably until he died, and her mother lied to her—told her the child was stillborn. Hester broke her heart over it, and she refused me when I asked her to marry me because she thought it might cause a scandal if it came out. I told her I didn’t give a damn about anything but her—and I don’t. If you cannot accept her as my wife, then you will not see me here again.”

“Oh Paul,” his mother cried, her face draining of color. “No, please do not say that. Forgive me. I spoke without thinking. Of course, I shall accept her, no matter the consequences. I am sorry.” As he stumbled and almost fell, she gave a little cry of alarm, put out her hand to catch his arm, and eased him back towards the bed. “No, you must not get up yet. You are too ill. You must rest.”

“I must find Hester. I must beg her to return,” he said, a fretful, angry note in his voice. “Where is she?”

“I do not know,” Lady Longstanton admitted. “Had I known I might have sent for her when you were in that fever, for you called for her so often that it broke my heart. But I have no idea where she went—though I think that perhaps Countess Danbury may. She spoke of going to a house that the Countess had given her.”

“Have you asked her?”

“She left after they brought you home, Paul. Hester’s brother went after her to try and persuade her to return I believe, and the countess took Mrs. Weston home. I think she was in a dreadful state.”

“I should imagine so. It was a terrible thing to happen,” Paul said. He was forced to sit down on the edge of the bed, for his head was spinning. “How many days have passed since the duel?”

“This is the morning of the third day after your wedding,” his mother said. “I have heard nothing from Hester. I cannot tell you if she means to return.”

“Of course she will not return to a house where she was made to feel unwelcome,” Paul said scornfully. “It is obvious to me that you have not learned to know Hester, Mother. She is proud and brave, and however much it hurt her to stay away, she would for my sake.”

“Even if she thought you close to death?”

“Yes, perhaps even then if she believed she could only harm me by her presence.”

“I should have thought that if she loves you . . .” Lady Longstanton stopped as she saw the flash of anger in his eyes. “Well, perhaps not. I do not know how it may be, Paul. I am sorry for my part—but you should not try to follow her for a day or so. Your wound may open again, and you might succumb to another fever. Anyway, until we can reach Countess Danbury, we can do nothing.”

“Then someone must be sent to her immediately. You are right about one thing, I am too weak to go in search of Hester as yet, but I must know where she is or I shall not rest. I must know that she is safe and well.”

“That man . . .” Lady Longstanton hesitated. “I do not know if you are aware of it, but Mr Blackwater was shot dead after he tried to shoot you for the second time.”

“Then at least she is safe from him,” Paul said with a sigh as he lay back against the pillows. “I shot to wound for I would have preferred to see him tried and hung for his crimes, but perhaps this is best. To whom do I owe a debt of gratitude for saving my life?”

“I believe it was Earl Mortimer,” she said uncertainly. “Your father told me in confidence, though I think it has been hushed up. Sir Justin is dealing with it.”

“Mortimer,” Paul muttered fretfully. “Always Mortimer. He wants her, and he told me that if she was rejected by my family, he would do his best to take her from me.” His eyes closed as he fell back against the pillows, exhausted by his efforts to get out of bed. “Damn it, I may have lost the one woman I shall ever love and I can do nothing.”

Lady Longstanton looked down at him.  “I am sorry,” she whispered.

* * * *

“Why will you not reconsider?” Robert asked. It had taken him two days to find her, and though she had greeted him with a smile and a grateful hug, she had refused to be swayed by his arguments. “I cannot understand you, Hester. I thought you loved Crawford?”

“With all my heart, so much that I shall never love anyone else—and too much to let him destroy his future for my sake.”

“That’s rubbish,” Robert said and shook his head at her. “Damn it, Hetty! The man is in love with you. He is prepared to stand by you, to lie for you—”

“That is just it,” Hester said, her eyes dark with inner anguish. “I cannot live a lie. I would have kept the secret had it been possible and met my daughter in secret, but now that it is out, I would prefer to tell the truth. I know that I would not be welcome in a great many houses, that many of the people who have been so kind would turn their faces in disgust—but a few would still continue my friends. It would be better to live quietly than to try to deceive others. Some might pretend to believe for the sake of politeness, but I would rather Paul had told the truth and damned them all.”

“You cannot expect so much of him, Hetty. It is a hard thing for any man to accept. Crawford has done so in private, but he was not prepared to be made a fool of in public. No one will mind that he has a by-blow, and you will be thought of as some kind of saint if you accept the girl.”

“But she is mine,” Hester said. “And I must see her, Robert. I do not know where she is, but you can find out for me.”

“How should I do that?” he asked uneasily.

“You gave Viscount Mortimer some information that led him to discover her,” Hester said. “If you care for my feelings, go to him in London and ask him for her direction and then write to me. I must see her, Robbie. Please understand that I have nothing else left. If Charlotte insists that I must have all that she gave me on my wedding day, I can live here quite comfortably, for I shall not need much. I dare say I shall not go into company very often, but if I have my child, I shall not mind that.”

“Oh, Hetty,” Robert said and hesitated. “If you want the truth, Mortimer is staying at an inn in the village. He came down yesterday and sent me a note asking if he might see you. I told him that I would speak to you when I thought you were ready.” He frowned at her. “Do you trust him? He let you down before—how do you know that he won’t let you down again?”

“He is not the arrogant man he was then,” Hester said with quiet dignity. “He begged me to marry him and said that we would take our daughter abroad and marry there. I refused him because I loved Paul.” She smothered a sob. “I shall always love Paul, but perhaps Sylvia is entitled to know her father.”

“You are a fool if you think that way,” Robert told her. “He will let you down, Hetty. You would do much better to return to your husband.”

“No, I cannot,” Hester said. “If he still wants me, Paul will come to me. He will understand why I left him and he will come—but if he reconsiders, if he believes that his mother was right and that we should separate I must accept it. I shall not push my claims, Robert.” She laid a hand on his arm. “Please, ask Earl Mortimer to call—and then go to Longstanton Hall and inquire after Paul. You may write to me from London and tell me how he is. I pray that the wound was not too serious. You told me it was a shoulder wound, and I believe it will heal.” She turned away and he guessed her anguish. “I can bear this parting as long as I know that Paul is recovering and will make a new life for himself.”

Robert stared at her in frustration. He had pleaded and threatened in turn but she was too strong for him. He loved her but he did not understand her. If he had known the truth all those years ago, he would have told their father and surely she would have been spared at least some of the punishments she had been forced to endure. And yet, would their father have forgiven her even though it had not been her fault?

Why did she not hate Mortimer? He could hardly bear to speak to the man, knowing as he did what his sister had suffered all those years—was suffering now. But she wished to speak with him, and there was little else he could do but pass on her message. He might think it madness, but he could not deny Hester the solace of knowing her own child.

* * * *

“What are you saying to me?” Hester stared at Richard, her eyes wide with distress. “Sylvia has disappeared? How could that happen? Has someone taken her?”

“I went there before coming to you,” Richard told her. “It was my intention to bring our daughter to you, Hester—but I was told that a gentleman came and took her away more than a month ago.”

“And they let him take her?” Hester shuddered, visions of slavery flashing into her mind, for she knew that young girls often disappeared into houses of prostitution, both here at home and abroad. “How wicked they are! Were they paid? Or was she stolen?”

“They tried to tell me she had been stolen, at least the man tried to lie, but the woman broke down in tears and told me the truth. He had sold Sylvia to the gentleman for five hundred guineas. I think she must have been quite fond of the girl despite her neglect, and it was playing on her mind that she had allowed it to happen.”

“My poor child,” Hester cried, tears starting to her eyes. “Oh, Richard. I cannot bear to think what may be her fate. We must find her. We must . . .”

“You do not recall what Crawford said when Blackwater called you a . . .” He saw her eyes widen. “I was sitting at the far side of the room, Hester. Something he said . . . I cannot be sure for he may simply have been lying to put Blackwater off the scent . . . but he said that the girl he had recently adopted was his by-blow. Now if it were Sylvia he was speaking of . . .”

“You think that he really has adopted her as his own child?” Hester was stunned for it was beyond anything she had ever expected of her husband, more than she would have dared to ask, and it brought tears to her eyes. She sat down on the nearest chair, covering her face with her hands as the tears flowed. Try as she might, she could not stop them for her heart was breaking. Paul had done so much for her and she had left him. She had refused to go to him even though she knew that he was wounded. He must despise her for her weakness, think himself well rid of her. “I have brought him nothing but trouble . . .”