The Fall of Lord Drayson (Tanglewood Book 1) (20 page)

“Was that the full accounting?” Mrs. Beresford asked, her eyebrow lifted in question.

Lucy looked down at her lap, knowing what her mother hinted at. Unfortunately, Mrs. Bidding had been party to one of the scenes Lucy would have kept a secret forever.

“Not quite,” she grudgingly admitted, feeling her face burn as though it had been touched by the sun. “The earl, er . . .”

“Kissed you?” her mother said, far more bluntly than Lucy had ever heard her speak.

Lucy’s eyes flew to hers. She was surprised to see a hint of humor in them. “Yes.”

Mrs. Beresford nodded, immediately masking her feelings once again. “Mrs. Bidding implied that it was quite a passionate embrace.”

Curse Mrs. Bidding and her prying eyes and wagging tongue!
Lucy thought crossly, feeling her face grow even warmer.

“Perhaps it was,” Lucy admitted, quieter this time. She offered no excuses for her behavior because she had none to offer. She had surrendered to a strong temptation, and though she was sorry for behaving so unseemly, she wasn’t sorry about the kiss. She had enjoyed the earl’s affections immensely and would hold onto those memories until the day she departed this earth.

What is to be my punishment, Mother?
she wanted to blurt out.
Please get on with it so that we can be done with this awkwardness.

Once again, her mother surprised her. “Mrs. Bidding said you kissed a coachman, not an earl,” she said.

“Mrs. Bidding knows only what little she saw. I did not think it wise to enlighten her further.”

Her mother cocked her head at gazed at her daughter. “Even though she would have insisted that he do the honorable thing by you?”

Lucy set her jaw and lifted her chin. “You don’t intend to ask such a thing of the earl, do you Mama? That is not the way I wish to enter into matrimony.”

For a brief moment, Lucy thought she saw a spark of pride in her mother’s eyes, but Mrs. Beresford set her teacup on the table and when she looked up again, it was gone.

“Lucy, there is something I haven’t told you before, something I hadn’t planned on telling you at all. But I believe I will now.” Mrs. Beresford smoothed the folds of her skirt with her palms. “Your father and I didn’t have what you’d call a regular courtship. One afternoon, he accompanied his sister into a shop where I worked, and it was I who helped his sister choose a design and fabrics. Not two days later he returned on his own, saying he wished to commission a new pair of gloves for his mother and would like to speak to Miss Julia Jenkins about the purchase. He actually called me ‘Miss’ if you can believe it, and that became the first of many purchases.”

The glow in her mother’s eyes faded into a sadness that intrigued Lucy. “Rumors soon began. Talk. Whispers. People believed that your father and I . . . well, I couldn’t blame them, really. No one of his standing would ever consider taking a mere seamstress to wife, so what else was there to think?”

As comprehension came, Lucy’s mouth parted and righteous indignation took its ugly hold. “That you were just as respectable, if not more so, than any woman of the gentry. How dare they!”

Mrs. Beresford leaned forward and took her daughter’s hand in hers. “Lucy, there are expectations in this world. Rules of decorum. If you do not heed them, there are consequences to pay. You may think Mrs. Bidding did you a disservice by carrying you away and keeping you confined until I returned, but in reality she did you a great service. She kept your reputation safe. It was I who did you a disservice by leaving you here alone with only Georgina as a chaperone, and for that, I hold only myself to blame.”

Lucy felt any hope at future independence float away, like a dandelion on the breeze, sailing above her head and out of reach.

“As soon as I learned of the gossip about your father and I,” her mother continued, “I asked him to cease his attentions towards me. But he wouldn’t hear of it, and I, young and inexperienced as I was, didn’t insist. So we began to see each other in secret. For a time it was exciting and thrilling, and I fancied myself quite in love with your father. But one horrible night, we were discovered embracing, much like Mrs. Bidding discovered you and the earl. Only in my situation, word spread, and what little reputation I had left became tattered beyond repair. I was considered a fallen woman. I lost my job and my dignity, and when my parents allowed me to remain under their roof, they were shunned as well. Your father felt dreadful and insisted on doing the honorable thing to save me from ruin, and so we were married.”

“He would not have offered for you if he hadn’t loved you, Mama,” inserted Lucy, feeling fiercely protective of her parents all of a sudden. She had always supposed they had married for love and did not care what others said about their differences in station. It was a sad blow to discover that the reason her parents had married was because they
had
cared.

No, Lucy refused to believe that. Her parents would have married in time. They had loved each other too much to ever walk away.

“Oh, he did love me in a way, I suppose,” continued her mother. “And that love grew stronger and deeper as the years passed. But he lost so much in marrying me. Your papa had great dreams of fighting for his country and proving himself a hero. Your grandfather was prepared to purchase his colors for him, but when your father offered for me, his family cut him off, and all of his dreams went away. The only reason we are in this house now is because the current Earl of Drayson’s grandfather was an old family friend. He took pity on us and offered us a living in Askern. It was truly good of him, and we were most grateful, but it also served to sever the friendship the old earl once shared with your father’s family.” A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “The old earl once said that he may have lost a friend in the bargain, but he gained another son. And better a son than a friend.”

Lucy sat back in her chair, shocked and speechless. She had no idea her parents had such a distressing past. They’d always seemed so blissfully happy, so perfectly suited to the life that, as it turned out, had been forced on them.

“Your father told me he had no regrets and that he would have offered for me eventually,” said Mrs. Beresford softly. “But I always wondered if that was the truth of it. He would have gone off to war, fought a valiant battle, and lived the life he was meant to live. Whether or not that would have included me, I do not know. Yes, we grew to love each other dearly and had a wonderful life together—you brought us both so much joy—but I would not wish the same beginning on you. So in answer to your question, no, I would never attempt to force the earl’s hand. I would, however, like to ring a peal over his head and turn him over my knee.”

Lucy’s lips lifted slightly. “He is a good man, Mama. It was I who behaved unpardonably.”

“Obviously I cannot rake you over the coals either, considering your papa and I shared several kisses before we were discovered, but I am grateful it was Mrs. Bidding who happened upon you and not someone else. She may be a bit stern and domineering at times, but a more loyal friend I cannot claim.”

Lucy appreciated her mother’s perspective of the events. It gave her a grudging respect for Mrs. Bidding, and Lucy was determined to send the woman a note of thanks as soon as she could. But she still had one more matter of business to discuss with her mother.

“Mama, are you not at all concerned about losing this house? I am certain the earl was quite upset when he learned of my deception, and at any moment we could—” Lucy stopped talking when she saw the dismissive wave of her mother’s hand.

“We will come out all right, my dear,” assured her mother.

“How can you be so certain?” Lucy asked. “You do not know the earl as I.”

“No, but I do know Mr. Shepherd,” she said with a hint of hesitancy in her voice.

Lucy frowned, not understanding what Mr. Shepherd had to do with anything.

Mrs. Beresford began hesitantly. “Do you recall when we last visited Mr. Shepherd together and he asked to have a private word with me?”

Lucy nodded. “Are you referring to the ball he wished to host for me?”

Her mother blushed. “That was a falsehood, I’m afraid, because I did not wish to tell you the true nature of our conversation.”

“Mother.” Lucy tried to sound properly appalled, though deep inside, her heart warmed. All these revelations made Lucy feel less like a troublesome daughter and more like a confidant and friend. She had never felt closer to her mother.

“Mr. Shepherd did not offer to throw you a ball,” her mother said carefully. “Rather, he made an offer for my hand. Apparently, he’s been harboring a tendré for me for quite some time, and . . . needless to say I was rather shocked.”

“You are to marry Mr. Shepherd?” Lucy gasped, feeling overcome. She tried to picture Mr. Shepherd and her mother locked in a passionate embrace and immediately wished she hadn’t.

“I merely told him that I needed some time to think about it and that I would give him my answer after I returned from my sister’s, once I had a chance to speak with you.”

“And what have you determined?” Lucy asked, not knowing how she should feel about this latest revelation.

Her mother sighed. “To be honest, not much. I have only ever thought of Mr. Shepherd as a kind neighbor, not a prospective husband. I had planned to explain that I needed more time to see if I could come to think of him in a romantic way. He is so different than your father. But now . . . well, it seems I am destined to enter into another marriage out of necessity rather than desire.” She smiled as she said the words, but Lucy’s heart broke for her only remaining parent. Her mother had been down such a road before. It wasn’t fair she be required to go that way again.

“Surely there is something else we can—”

“It will be all right, Lucy,” said her mother, giving her hand a squeeze. “Mr. Shepherd is a good man and a lively conversationalist. I am confident that, in time, I will develop tender feelings for him as well. He has been so good to us.”

Lucy suddenly felt more grown up than she had the day her mother had left her alone with Georgina. She realized then that maturity had little to do with independence and more to do with discovering that life wasn’t all roses and lilies. It included thistles and thorns and complexities that a grown person faced head-on, with poise and courage, like her mother was doing now.

Still, Lucy wasn’t ready to allow her mother to take on this latest complexity—at least not yet. “I think you should hold off giving Mr. Shepherd your answer for now,” said Lucy. “Let us first wait to see how Lord Drayson retaliates.”

“Is that fair to Mr. Shepherd, do you think?” Mrs. Beresford asked quietly.

“Is it fair to marry him when your reasons for doing so are different than his?” Lucy countered.

“No,” came her mother’s answer, her mouth drawn down in a frown.

“Then let us wait and hope and pray,” said Lucy. “I have come to learn that Lord Drayson does, indeed, have a heart. Perhaps, once his rage has cooled, he will allow his heart to rule his head and will let us remain in the dower house.” Although Lucy’s voice sounded confident, deep down she felt like she was standing in an open field during a thunderstorm waiting for the lightning to strike.

The following morning, Lucy awoke early and made her way to Mr. Shepherd’s, anxious to interrogate him about his encounter with the earl and what he had meant by “All is well.” Unfortunately, all was not well in Knotting Tree. Mr. Shepherd had come down with a dreadful cold and had confined himself to his bedchamber.

“I hope he recovers soon,” Lucy told the butler, trying to persuade herself that she was distressed by the news because she was concerned for Mr. Shepherd’s welfare and not because it meant waylaying a conversation she very much wanted to have. But the sad truth of the matter was that she was as much concerned with her own welfare as Mr. Shepherd’s. What a sorry excuse for a vicar’s daughter she made.

Guilt-ridden, Lucy walked back to her home and, with Georgina’s help, made Mr. Shepherd some apricot cakes—one of his favorite snacks. It gave her mind something to think about, her hands something to do, and served to lessen her guilt somewhat. As she stacked them carefully in a basket, her mother walked into the kitchen.

“My goodness, I slept late, didn’t I?” said Mrs. Beresford, stealing a treat and popping it into her mouth. “You must think me a complete lazybones.”

Lucy kissed her mother’s cheek. “Perfectly understandable after the trying few weeks you’ve had. Mr. Shepherd is ill, so Georgy and I have made him some cakes, which I shall deliver to his butler straightaway. We left a few extra for you because we know they’re a favorite of yours as well.”

Mrs. Beresford’s forehead puckered. “Is he very ill?”

“No. I believe he’s just a bit under the weather is all. Geoffries thinks he should feel up to receiving visitors the first part of next week.”

“Very well. Take those treats to him, and let Geoffries know I will stop in to see him on Monday. Have we received any correspondence today?”

Lucy draped a napkin over the plate and said, “Not from Lord Drayson if that is what you mean. But there is a stack of letters in the study that came while you were away.”