An Heiress at Heart (6 page)

Martha left through a door that most likely led to the old nursery. That would, of course, be the perfect place for Ria to hide something, Lizzie thought. She sighed. In her mind’s eye she saw herself picking her way, rock by rock, across a rushing stream. One misstep and she would be carried away by the current.

The door to the hallway opened, and Lady Thornborough entered. The next step across that stream, Lizzie thought.

“You are awake. Thank God.” She crossed the room to the bed. “Where is Martha? I instructed her to stay with you.”

“Don’t be cross, Grandmamma. I sent her on a small errand for me, that’s all.”

Martha reentered through the nursery door. “I’m here, my lady.” She made a show of straightening the bedclothes, and quietly placed a folded white handkerchief into Lizzie’s right hand as she did so. Lizzie guessed from its weight that the bracelet was wrapped inside.

Lady Thornborough placed a hand on Lizzie’s forehead, just as Martha had done. “How are you feeling?” Lady Thornborough’s hand was cool and dry, like a piece of parchment. But Lizzie found it soothing.

She took a deep breath. Just a few days before, her lungs would have been screaming in pain from the effort; now she felt only a whispering ache. “I feel as though I’ve just come up for air.”

The old woman’s brow wrinkled. “I beg your pardon?”

“I dreamed I was in the ocean, swimming upward but never able to break the surface.”

“Do not talk of oceans,” Lady Thornborough said sharply. “They have done nothing but separate people who should have been together.”

Her words and her rigid exterior seemed to illustrate Ria’s claim that her grandmother was harsh and unyielding. Ria might once have responded with an angry defense of her most excellent reasons for crossing those very oceans. But that was long ago, and Ria had gone to her grave with an unfulfilled desire for reconciliation. Armed with the knowledge Martha had just given her, Lizzie was determined to find a softer spot in Lady Thornborough’s heart. She gave her a tiny smile. “Then I shall just say that I am much improved. And hungry, perhaps.”

“Martha,” said Lady Thornborough, “tell Cook that we are in need of her special broth.”

“Right away, my lady.” Martha hastened out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Lady Thornborough took the chair next to Lizzie’s bed. “You know we are so very anxious to hear all about what has happened. Lord Somerville has been calling every day to enquire after you.”

Lizzie frowned.
Lord Somerville.
That would be William, of course. As head of the Somerville family, he would naturally want to question her about Edward. No doubt Geoffrey had already filled him in on the particulars of her disgraceful arrival. She wondered if Geoffrey had been round to ask about her, and was suddenly quite anxious to know. She felt a particular urge to see him again—a need to explain why she had been in the street, and to thank him for his kindness in bringing her in, even if he seemed much colder to her later. What if he wished to have nothing to do with her? It was an unsettling thought. “I’m sure that
both
my brothers-in-law are desirous to hear everything,” Lizzie said, in an effort to subtly draw out the answer from Lady Thornborough.

“Both…” Lady Thornborough repeated, clearly perplexed. A pained expression crossed her face, and she cleared her throat. “Yes, of course.” The guilty way she looked away as she spoke seemed to contradict her answer.

It was disappointing, but really, not so surprising. After all, Geoffrey would have plenty of reasons for disliking his sister-in-law. His feelings toward her were based, Lizzie knew, on his belief that she was Ria. It was yet another obstacle that Lizzie would have to
overcome. By taking up Ria’s identity, she would also have to accept responsibility for all the hurtful things Ria had done.

The weight of so many lives pressed upon her. The joys and sorrows not only of her own life, but of Ria and Edward’s, too. She had thought she would be leaving behind her burdens in order to step into a new life. Now she realized she must carry the burdens of both.

Lizzie dropped a disheartened gaze to the ring on her left hand. Edward’s ring. Ria had insisted she take it.

Lady Thornborough lightly touched the ring. “You and Edward
were
married, weren’t you?”

“Oh yes.”

“And Edward? Is he…”

For a moment, Lizzie could not answer. Two graves, side by side in a small church at Bathurst, filled her mind’s eye. “Yes,” she said at last with a shaky sigh. “He is dead.” She contemplated the ring, thinking of the two people who had worn it before her, knowing their loss was beyond regaining.

After a few moments’ silence Lady Thornborough said, “We were concerned when you appeared at our door in widow’s weeds. But I refused to believe the worst until you confirmed it. Even though I did not wish you to marry him, I want you to know how deeply grieved I am about his death. I know how hard it is to lose a husband.”

The words were simple, but heartfelt. Lizzie could see it in the old woman’s eyes. She was offering both forgiveness and solace.

“Grandmamma…” Lizzie began. The word came out a little easier each time she said it. “I know I have behaved wickedly. But please understand that I acted out
of love for Edward. It was not my intent to bring scandal upon the family.”

“Intended or not, that is what happened,” Lady Thornborough said. “But it cannot be undone now.”

Lizzie’s hand closed around the wrapped bracelet in her hand. She knew it had a sentimental value that was higher even than the worth of the precious stones. It had been a gift to Lady Thornborough from her husband on their wedding day. She held it out to Lady Thornborough. “There is perhaps one thing I can set to rights. I have wanted to return this to you for a very long time.”

Lady Thornborough’s hands trembled as she opened the small bundle. The cloth fell away, and the diamonds and sapphires sparkled in the light. “My bracelet,” she murmured, her rigid exterior softening visibly. “I was sure you had broken it up and sold it years ago.” She shook her head. “I cannot believe you kept it all this time.”

Lizzie knew the words Ria wanted her grandmother to hear. She had practiced them many times during the interminable voyage from Australia. “I was unforgivably selfish to take this bracelet, but I hope that by returning it, you will find it in your heart to forgive me anyway. I took it because I was so afraid of being destitute, but Edward insisted that we would never sell it. And we never did. Somehow we always managed.”

The same could be said for Tom, Lizzie realized. He had given everything to protect and care for her, working tirelessly in a harsh land to give her a new life. She would have no difficulty playing the part of a bereaved widow. She
was
bereft; her loss felt no less deeply because it was her brother and not a spouse. “He said he would be my provider,” Lizzie found herself saying, “and he was.”

And then, the tears came.

Lady Thornborough wrapped her arms gently around Lizzie, murmuring soft words of comfort. “You have come home, my dear child, and we will muddle through together.”

She spoke with a tenderness that might have amazed Ria herself.

Lizzie let the tears spill, unheeded, that she had held back for far too long. In Australia, she’d been required to be strong, to soldier on as Edward, Tom, and finally Ria were taken from her. She’d had no time to grieve as she faced one tragedy after another.

The three people who had once meant the most in the world to her were gone. Lizzie clung to the woman now offering her comfort. This was her home now, she thought fiercely. This was her family.

                                                          
Chapter 5

G
eoffrey sat at his desk, trying to focus on the papers in front of him. As a board member of the Society for Improving the Condition of the Labouring Classes, he was responsible for arranging the dedication ceremony of the newest building, a block of flats in Spitalfields.

Normally such a task would readily consume his thoughts. After years of service as a clergyman, he refused to take up the dissolute and careless lifestyle that many of the peers were living. Having a title didn’t prevent him from continuing to do at least some good in the world.

Today, however, despite his best intentions, all he could think of was Ria.

He could not forget her pale face as she lay unconscious on the sofa, nor the way he had been riveted to her violet-blue eyes when they had finally opened. She had been weak from fever and exhaustion, but Geoffrey thought he had seen a glimpse of the spirited woman who had captured Edward’s heart.

He assured himself that his thoughts kept returning to Ria solely because he wanted information from her. He had to know what had become of Edward. Nearly a week had passed, and she had yet to regain consciousness. Geoffrey had spent most of that time consumed with worry. If she should slip away before telling him what had become of Edward…

No. Surely the Lord is too merciful for that
. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He looked down and noticed his pen had left a blot of ink on the paper where his hand had been resting, unmoving. He quickly placed the pen back in the inkstand and wiped his hand on a cloth.

Mrs. Claridge entered the room. “I beg your pardon, sir, but Lady Thornborough is downstairs.”

Lady Thornborough would not have come in person unless the news was either very good or very bad. Geoffrey dropped the cloth and rose from his desk. “Please show her up.”

Geoffrey paced the room as he waited, praying that the news was good.

Lady Thornborough breezed through the study door ahead of Mrs. Claridge, not waiting to be announced. She crossed the room and took both of his hands in hers. She did not even bother with formalities but simply said, “Her fever broke last night. She’s awake.”

Geoffrey found himself exhaling a deep breath that he had not been aware he’d been holding. “Have you spoken to her?”

A shadow crossed Lady Thornborough’s face. “Yes. We had quite a little chat.”

“And?”

Lady Thornborough gently withdrew her hands from his and glanced around the room for a place to sit. Belatedly remembering his duties as host, Geoffrey motioned to a chair by the window. “Would you be so kind?”

Lady Thornborough seated herself, taking a few moments to arrange the folds of her gown. She looked up at him expectantly. “Won’t you sit down, Lord Somerville?”

Geoffrey would have preferred to stand, to pace the room if necessary. Movement always helped when dealing with difficult matters. But Lady Thornborough appeared unwilling to speak until he was seated. With great effort he acquiesced and took the chair next to hers. “What other news do you have for me, Lady Thornborough?”

He did not have to elaborate. She would be perfectly aware that the question of Edward’s fate was uppermost in his mind.

Her gray eyes held his. “I fear you already know what I have to tell you.”

He did. He could see the pity written on her face. His last shred of hope on the matter was now gone. In spite of Lady Thornborough’s uncharacteristic gentleness, pain shot through him as surely as if she had wielded a knife. “How did he—” Suddenly his mouth was parched, his voice dry and brittle. “When?”

“Nearly two years ago.”

“Two years!” All his anguish about having Edward declared dead, and the man had gone to dust long ago. The absurdity of it was too painful even to contemplate.

“As to
how
,” Lady Thornborough continued, “I do not have the particulars. Ria asked that we all be assembled together so that she need only tell the tale once.”

“Is it really so bad, then?”

“I gather it is most unpleasant. In spite of the time that has passed, it is clear to me that she still suffers deeply.”

Geoffrey tried to remind himself that he was not the only one mourning. It did not help. Whatever Ria was feeling, Geoffrey was certain he could match it. He was numb and nauseous at the same time, having both an urgent desire to run and a complete inability to move. A dull ache pulsed through every part of his body. “Oh, Edward,” he moaned.

Lady Thornborough pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and gently held it to her nose. Somehow, through all of his warring emotions, Geoffrey was dimly aware of the scent of lavender wafting from it.

What could have possibly befallen his brother? All sorts of possibilities began to enter his head. A terrible accident, a mortal illness…“She gave you no clue?”

“None, I’m afraid.”

“Were they really in Australia? Or was the fever making her confused?”

“They were in Australia. Like you, I am anxious to know how they came to be in such a wretched place.” Lady Thornborough returned the handkerchief to her reticule. “Dr. Layton says she should be well enough to get out of bed within a few days. I will contact you as soon as she is able to receive visitors.”

More days to wait. More interminable days. He would have preferred to get all the details quickly, rather than in this excruciating fashion.