Innocence (34 page)

Lisa couldn’t blame Rebecca for her indignant tone, but she was unwilling to offer more than another cautious nod.

“Anneliese. May I call you Anneliese? I had determined we would be the very best of friends, and I looked forward to meeting you with breathless expectation but . . .” She seemed at a loss, which was hardly surprising. “Please, would you be honest with me?”
 

“Very well,” Lisa said warily.

“My brother thought you were a servant, and the two of you became involved
romantically?”
 

Lisa nodded. The girl had surely heard enough to suspect as much.

“Then why are you refusing to marry him?”
 

“How did you know that?” Lisa frowned.

“Nathaniel told me before he rode out. He seemed very upset, and I fear he intends to do something rash. I know my father has plans for him and Lady Lucinda one day, but he doesn’t care for her, nor does she care for him—only the title he can give her. I realise that’s the case for most marriages amongst the upper
ton
, but surely it doesn’t have to be that cold-blooded. It’s obvious Nathaniel cares for you, so I don’t understand why you won’t marry him. Or do you not care for him after he took advantage of you when you were vulnerable?”
 

“It’s because I
do
care for your brother that I cannot marry him,” Lisa said, going on to explain the situation as best she could.

“That blasted Marriage Act.” Rebecca scowled. “Why is everyone so certain the King would not approve of a match between the two of you? Your father was a hero, knighted by the crown. It’s not like you’re a commoner or divorced or
Catholic
,” she added on a whisper, listing the key reasons the Act had been created in the first place. “Why
can’t
the two of you marry and live happily ever after?”

Rebecca and Lisa were almost the same age, but after everything Lisa had been through, the other girl’s naïvety left her feeling much older.

“It’s not that simple, I’m afraid. Your father has confirmed my fears. The only way for Nathaniel and I to be together is if he were to give up his position in society, his titles, his estates,
everything
. The marriage would not be recognised by the Church, and we would be forced to flee abroad.”

Rebecca’s shocked expression and the way she let the subject drop—not even bothering to continue with her impassioned argument—validated the decision Lisa had made, though she took no pleasure in being proven correct. With the time of her departure approaching, Lisa expressed her gratitude to Rebecca for her visit and then rose and ushered her towards the door.

“I’m so sorry you aren’t able to marry my brother,” Rebecca said. “I think you would have made a wonderful sister-in-law. Lucinda doesn’t care for anything but raising her position in society.”

She’s certainly achieved that
, Lisa mused bitterly.
 

“If you don’t mind my asking, there’s something I’d like to know before you leave. Did Lord McGivern treat you honourably?”

Thinking of how frightened she had been when the huge Scotsman had trapped her against the wall of her sitting room, his accusations and threats ringing in her ears, Lisa took a moment to consider her response. In the end, she focused on the good he had done her.

“Yes, he behaved honourably,” she said.

Rebecca’s shoulders slumped with relief.

“What of Lord Edgeley?”
 

Lisa’s involuntary shudder was all the answer the other girl needed.
 

“I’m so sorry,” Rebecca whispered. “I never really cared for him. There was something about his manner I found off-putting. I acted as if I returned his interest because I wanted to make Lord McGivern jealous, which seems petty now. If I’m honest, I found it flattering to be pursued by two such eligible gentlemen.”

“As long as they’re gentlemen you can trust, and it’s
you
they’re pursuing, not your dowry.”
 

“True,” Rebecca said before adding, “There’s so much I don’t understand nor do I expect to be enlightened. I know it’s customary to keep young ladies ignorant of any matter with the potential for unpleasantness. But I have come to suspect the result of such a lack of knowledge is the eventual shattering of one’s hopes and dreams.”

Rebecca’s words, so close to Lisa’s experience, inspired her to make an unexpected offer.
 

“Write to me, and I’ll do my best to answer your questions, discreetly, of course.”

In Lisa’s experience, ignorance led to unwise choices and unnecessarily tragic outcomes, and there was nothing blissful about either.

Chapter 30

Homecoming

Nearing the village of Henbury five days later, Lisa regretted her rash overture. Contact with someone so closely related to Nathaniel could only bring her grief.
 

The journey home had passed uneventfully. Lady Watson, who insisted Lisa call her Penelope, was an attractive, dark-haired lady with bright blue eyes . . . like Nathaniel. A few years younger than her brother, she had agreed immediately upon reading Thomas’s letter to escort Lisa. Accompanied by her maid and a driver, Penelope planned to travel on to visit her sons after leaving Lisa and her companions at Barlow Manor. She had many exciting tales to tell about the travels she had taken with her late husband during the early years of their marriage, and Lisa found herself daydreaming of the life she could have led with Nathaniel if things had been different.
Very
different.

As the miles and countryside passed, Lisa wondered what she would find upon her return to Barlow Manor. She wasn’t the same person who had fled Henbury, and it was difficult to imagine how she would fit back into her old life. One thing she knew. She would not rest easily until she saw her father face-to-face.
 

“Finally,” Lisa whispered when Barlow Manor came into view.
 

As the carriage approached the front of the house, their arrival was noted and pandemonium ensued. Barely waiting until the vehicle halted, Lisa clambered down unaided, indifferent to the spectacle she created. Cries of greeting and welcome assaulted her ears as she was surrounded by familiar faces, but she only had eyes for her father who stood on the front steps. Supported by Mr Waters, he was thinner than she recalled, his usually ruddy complexion overlaid with a greyish pallor. But he was alive when she had never expected to see him again.

A path opened before her, and Lisa closed the distance between them, throwing herself into his arms.

“Papa!”
 

Her tears left a damp patch on his waistcoat as he held her close, repeating her name over and over with a voice clogged with his own unshed tears. Lisa felt one splash on her neck, and she looked up to witness the unprecedented sight of her father crying.

“You’re alive.” She sobbed.

Her words overlapped with her father’s declaration, “You’re home!”

Laughing and weeping, they made their way into the house.

Ignoring the bare walls and incongruous gaps where generations-old furnishings had once stood, Lisa concentrated on seeing her father seated in his favourite chair in the parlour. Before she could get her bearings, she was passed like a Christmas package from the arms of one person to the next in a flurry of reunion. Coming to rest in the embrace of Mrs Waters, the older woman nestled Lisa against her ample bosom.

“Me girl’s ’ome where she belongs.”
 

The housekeeper sobbed, and it was Lisa’s turn to offer consolation.

Recalling their guest, Lisa extricated herself from Mrs Waters hold and turned to find Penelope standing in the doorway.
 

“Please, forgive my rudeness.”

“Perfectly understandable, my dear.” Penelope came to stand beside her.

“Papa.” Lisa turned to where he was watching proceedings with a pleased, if slightly watery-looking smile. “I would like you to meet Lady Watson, Uncle Thomas’s sister. She very kindly accompanied me on the journey home.”

“Please, remain seated, Sir George,” Penelope said. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for you suffering a setback.”

While Lisa knew it must gall her father not to stand and make his obeisance to such a handsome lady, he relented at Penelope’s words.

“You’re very welcome in my home, Lady Watson,” he said. “I owe you a debt of gratitude for seeing to the safe return of my daughter.”

“Please, call me Penelope, and it is I who owes the debt, Sir George. I’ve had a delightful time getting to know Anneliese. Your daughter is an absolute treasure. Besides, Thomas knew I would jump at any excuse to travel the countryside.”

Lisa hoped they didn’t seem rude, but the furtive glances she and her father sent each other’s way broadcast their desire for privacy. After a few moments spent in polite discourse and some much appreciated refreshments, Penelope excused herself, citing the need for a rest before dinner to recover from the rigours of their journey. With the household staff returned to their duties, Lisa found herself alone with her father at last.

“Anneliese,” he whispered, and her tears returned in earnest.

“Oh, Papa.” She wrapped her arms around him, carefully in deference to his recently healed wounds. “How are you, really?”
 

“Mending.” Her father patted her hand. “But let me look at you?”
 

She took a seat on a padded footstool, drawing it close to his chair.

“Goodness, you’re even more beautiful than I recall,” he said.

Lisa smiled at his fatherly bias.
 

“But I fear your adventures have hastened your journey towards womanhood,” he continued, and her smile faded, his words cutting a little too close to the bone. “You’re a tad pale, of course, but days stuck inside a jostling carriage will accomplish that.”

“I’m fine, Papa. Just
very
glad to be home.”

“My heart almost gave out when John informed me Thomas and his new bride had left on their honeymoon before you arrived. Of all the rotten luck.” Her father shook his head. “I’d forgotten about the wedding when I sent you halfway across the country.”

“Papa?” Lisa was curious to receive an answer to the question that had plagued her since her arrival at Worthington Hall. “Why were we never invited to visit Uncle Thomas?”

“But we were. We were even invited to the wedding, as Thomas would have liked me to stand up with him if we’d been able to attend.”

“Why
couldn’t
we attend?”
 

If they’d been away from home when Lord Copeland had arrived for his impromptu visit, it could have saved them a great deal of anguish.
 

Sir George sighed. “I’ve never spoken to you about my experiences during the war.”
 

Lisa sat back, not having anticipated the direction her father’s speech would take.
 

“Despite noble tales of heroic battles and acts of chivalry, the reality of war is quite different. It can leave a man with scars, hidden as well as visible.”

“Go on, Papa.” She urged when he faltered, saddened to realise her war-hero father may bear such scars.

“It wasn’t as much of an issue when your mother was alive. But after she died, I found it difficult to keep the memories at bay. Here, at home, her presence assists me—as does your company, of course—but when I travel further afield . . .”

“It’s all right,” Lisa said when his words dried up.

A vague memory of the nightmares he had suffered when they’d journeyed to the seaside surfaced in her mind.
 

“I understand . . . a little. I may not have experienced the horrors of war, but I can honestly say I’ve no desire to leave Henbury, Barlow Manor, or
you
ever again.”

Her father could not know how serious she was, not being in possession of all the facts, and he smiled indulgently at her words.

“I’m sure you’ll change your mind in due course. Now tell me, what’s this preposterous tale of you masquerading as a servant?”

Not wanting to lie outright to her father, Lisa stayed as close to the truth as possible, regaling him with her adventures and making light of them where possible.

“But what of Thomas’s son, the marquis, and the other members of the household? Did you never cross their paths?” her father asked.

Lisa’s heart lodged in her throat. Disguising her distress behind a feigned bout of coughing, she sipped at the water Mrs Smith rushed to her hand, confirming she, and no doubt as many of the household staff as could squeeze behind the door, were listening in to their conversation.

“I encountered them in my role as a servant,” she said, hoping her father would let the matter drop.

“And you conversed? They heard you speak?”
 

“Of course.” She shrugged then recalled that it was considered ill-mannered for a young lady to gesture in such a way, a habit she had developed and would have to break.

“Idiot!”
 

Lisa startled at her father’s exclamation.