"I am not the one who committed a crime," Sir Randolph said loftily. "I am not the one who gave a woman a dangerous gas— "
"A woman?" Anthony cut in. "Mrs. Crosby was no mere woman to you, was she? Otherwise, her death wouldn't have incensed you so."
Sir Randolph went quite pale. "I don't know what you mean."
Anthony's hard gaze was unrelenting. "How odd, considering that you've been paying for the maintenance of her mother in Shrewsbury all these years."
As the ramifications of that began to sink in, Madeline exchanged a look with her father, who appeared stunned.
"But I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Anthony went on. "Only a hypocrite would deny the existence of his natural daughter."
Chapter Twenty-seven
Dear Charlotte,
Have you never heard the saying, "Neither a borrower or lender be"? Those are sound words in this day. But I suppose there are times when a man must venture out beyond his principles. That may be true for a woman, too.
Your philosophical friend,
Michael
P
erhaps it was a measure of Anthony's wickedness that he found an intense satisfaction in the alarm spreading over his uncle's cheeks, but if so, he didn't care. Sometimes revenge truly was sweet. And the fact that Jane had been responsible for helping him strike the blow made it even sweeter.
"I can't imagine…I don't know where you could have heard such a tale," his uncle began to bluster.
"From a reliable source." Anthony had promised Jane not to reveal that she'd told him. She had only found out because Mrs. Crosby, eager to know her half sister better, had confided in her. To Jane's knowledge, even the vicar didn't know he'd been a pawn in Uncle Randolph's scheme to gain respectability for his bastard daughter by passing her off as the legitimate daughter of a widow.
"Your source is mistaken," his uncle said.
"I doubt that. And I'm sure if I were to pursue the matter, I could find someone to attest to Mrs. Crosby's illegitimacy. Then the vicar might not be so eager to press charges. Indeed, I rather think he'd prefer to have nothing to do with you. By all accounts, he loved his wife. It would be a shame to sully that love by embroiling him in a scandal."
"You wouldn't dare!" his uncle said, horror turning his skin a mottled red. "To ruin the good name of a sweet and innocent young creature— "
"I wouldn't want to, no," Anthony countered. And he'd promised Jane he wouldn't. But that didn't mean he couldn't use the threat of it to force his uncle's hand. "The vicar seems innocent of your machinations on your daughter's behalf."
He glanced over at Dr. Prescott, whose face wore a mixture of anger and remorse and confusion, then looked back to his uncle, hardening his voice. "But Madeline's father is innocent as well. We both know doctors lose patients every day. It's time that you acknowledge you acted blindly out of anger at the loss of the only daughter still fool enough to love you."
"Anger and ignorance," Madeline said hotly. "You always hated that Papa shined the light of reason on your nonsense, Sir Randolph. You used Mrs. Crosby's death to be rid of the only check to your power in Telford."
"My daughter was the fairest thing ever to grace this village, and your father— "
"Tried to save her," Anthony finished. "And you'll admit as much to the vicar when we leave. You'll also spread the news about town. If necessary, you'll get down on your bloody knees and beg the man's forgiveness before half the populace, so that he can return to his home!"
When his uncle bristled, Dr. Prescott stepped forward with quiet dignity. "No need for that, sir. I mean to set up a practice elsewhere. I find I can no longer stomach living in Telford."
"As you wish," Anthony replied. "We can always use a good physician in Chertsey." He returned his gaze to Sir Randolph. "But I have a more important demand, Uncle. As of now, you will withdraw your petition for guardianship of Tessa. You will explain to the court that you and my aunt are growing too old to raise a young woman."
The veins stood out on his balding forehead. "And what if I refuse?"
"You'll force me to reveal the existence of your mistress. I somehow doubt that the blunt you gain from my niece's estate will afford you much pleasure once your reputation is destroyed."
His uncle's hands curled into fists. "You've been far more wicked than I."
"Perhaps. But I never lied about it. Funny thing about country folk— they forgive the peccadilloes of men like me if we confess our faults and strive to do better. They never forgive being lied to." He lowered his voice to a menacing thrum. "Now, I wish to see my niece. Where is Tessa?"
Sir Randolph released an inarticulate growl of outrage, but he knew he'd lost the fight. Anthony had left him no alternative but to comply. "I will have her fetched," he gritted out.
That was enough to rouse Anthony's suspicions. "No. Tell me where she is." When his uncle merely glared at him, Anthony headed for the door. "Very well, I'll find her myself."
"Now see here, boy— " his uncle snapped from behind him.
Anthony stopped short to fix him with a dark look. "I am no longer a boy at your mercy, Uncle. You will address me as Lord Norcourt or not at all.
Where
is my niece, damn you?"
His uncle's eyes burned with resentment. "She is in the garden with your aunt, meditating upon the beauties of nature."
Knowing only too well what
that
meant, Anthony rushed out the door. Madeline lifted her skirts and broke into a run to keep up with him. To Anthony's relief, he still remembered his way about the house, so he was able to reach the garden within moments.
And there, kneeling on the bricks in a shift of rough fustian, was his golden-haired young niece, chin held high and eyes glittering her defiance as his aunt strode in front of her, railing about some infraction. For a moment, he flashed on Jane at that age and was catapulted back to the age of ten, when feelings of helplessness were his daily companions.
Then Madeline came up beside him to slide her hand in the crook of his elbow, and his world was set to rights once more.
"Tessa," he said, interrupting his aunt in midlecture. "Come, dearest." He held out his free hand. "We're going home."
"Uncle Anthony!" Tessa's face lit up as she leaped to her feet and rushed to throw her arms about his waist. "I knew you would come. I knew you would!"
As Madeline slipped off her muslin pelisse and laid it over Tessa's slender shoulders, Aunt Eunice turned on Anthony, her eyes sparking with hatred. "How dare you! The girl is ours, and there's naught you can do about it!"
"Let her go," said his uncle's tight voice behind them. "I've agreed to relinquish guardianship to An— …to Lord Norcourt."
The look of mad outrage on Aunt Eunice's face as she faced her husband was truly frightening to behold. "You spineless worm! You let him browbeat you, did you? Well, I'm not about to let the girl go off with a blackguard who consorts with whores and— "
"Shut up!" his uncle said. "You will do as you are told, woman."
She blinked. Aunt Eunice had been the only person Uncle Randolph never attempted to cow. "How dare you use that tone with me!"
Her husband stepped toward her with clenched fists. "You will have the servants pack Teresa's things and send them down to Lord Norcourt's coach, do you hear?"
"And why should I do that?" she snapped.
"Because if you do not, I will have the footmen carry you bodily up the stairs and lock you in our bedchamber until our nephew and the others are gone."
Anthony took a bittersweet pleasure in how the blood drained from her face.
"Why are you giving her up?" she hissed. "I deserve to know that, at least."
"Because I have decided it," Uncle Randolph said. "That is all."
The inadequate answer took Anthony as much by surprise as it did his aunt. Suddenly the truth dawned on him, making him turn to his uncle with an incredulous look. "She doesn't know, does she?"
His uncle glared daggers at him, confirming that Aunt Eunice had no idea her husband had kept a mistress and sired an illegitimate daughter.
Anthony burst into laughter. "My God, she doesn't know! That's too rich!"
"Know what?" his aunt demanded.
"Nephew…" his uncle choked out.
Ignoring the man's mute plea, Anthony turned to her, the truth hovering on his tongue. How he'd love to tell her that her husband was as much a cursed profligate as the nephew she despised. How he'd love to bring her world of strict principles crashing down about her ears, to leave her in a shambles the way she'd sought to leave him and Tessa and Jane.
Jane
. That halted him. He'd promised to use her information carefully. If he revealed it to his aunt, God only knew what could result. At the very least, his uncle's mistress would suffer.
And for what? His fleeting moment of vengeance? It would hardly make up for the years he'd lost.
He stared at his aunt then, at the lines of bitterness on her brow, the ugly twist of her lips, all the signs of a truly unhappy woman. He could do nothing more to hurt her than her own life and philosophy had already done.
Glancing over at Madeline, he saw the love shining in her eyes, and his heart caught in his throat. He already had what he wanted. Tessa was going with them, and the doctor stood tall beside the slumped form of Uncle Randolph. No point in letting the ugliness of the Bickhams alter his life anymore.
"What is it I don't know?" his aunt demanded again. "What secret do you think to tell me?"
"Only this, Aunt. Life needn't be misery. Not when those you love surround you." He cast her a pitying glance. "If you had shown me one ounce of kindness after Mother died, you'd have had my heart for a lifetime. You'd have had a nephew in your corner as well as a daughter, and probably scores of grandchildren to brighten your old age. But you threw my heart away with both hands, along with Jane's. From what I understand, she's already taken her family away from you. I'll take my family off, too, and leave you to the cold comfort of your principles."
"Your family!" She sneered at Madeline and Dr. Prescott. "These two?"
"Aye," Dr. Prescott put in. "Your nephew is marrying my daughter, you old witch."
"That doesn't surprise me." Contempt laced her voice as she stared Anthony down. "I always knew you were worthless. Who else would you marry but a chit of no rank or birth, who spends her days examining dead creatures and probably spends her nights wallowing in the same immorality as you?"
Years ago, her self-righteous words would have sent a knife through his heart, but now he saw them for what they were— the poisonous rantings of a woman who had no other use for her tongue.
"Immorality? That 'chit' has more morality in her little finger than you do in the whole of your soul, madam. You'd be lucky to have such a woman in your corner. But since you're too foolish to realize it, we're only too happy to leave."
Sliding one hand around Madeline's waist and the other about Tessa's, he gazed into their sweet faces and smiled. "Come, my darling family. Let's go home."
Epilogue
Dear Cousin,
A few months ago, you pontificated in your letter about loans, and in the wake of excitement over Miss Prescott's wedding to Lord Norcourt, I forgot to respond. Today a bank draft arrived to remind me— payment of the loan I made to her and her father months ago. So now I'll point out that if you'd taken your own advice eleven years ago about not giving loans, I would have been in dire straits indeed. Thank you for going against your own principles.
Your grateful relation,
Charlotte
T
hat's enough giggling, girls," Madeline chided. "Or I'll tell my husband what you're giggling about."
As Anthony arched an eyebrow at her, Tessa, Lucy, and Elinor subsided into blushes from their seats at the dining room table. Although Madeline adored having them at Norcourt Hall for her birthday celebration, she'd forgotten what girls their age could be like. The subject occupying them on
this
visit was the recent Harvest Ball that Lucy and Elinor had attended, since they'd had their come-outs shortly after Madeline had left the school to marry Anthony.
Tessa had taken well to life at the school, and for her second term she'd begged to live there, too, so she could be closer to her new friend Elinor, who'd lived with a relation nearby during her debut. Madeline had to hand it to Elinor and Lucy, who'd left the school but still attended the teas for graduates— they'd both taken Tessa under their wings so eagerly that she'd become like a younger sister to them.
"I remember when
you
used to giggle at the table, Maddie-girl." Madeline's father winked at the others from his seat beside Mrs. Jenkins, soon to be Mrs. Prescott.
"I never giggled in my life!" Madeline protested.
"I seem to recall some giggling when you imbibed a certain gas…" Anthony teased.
