He felt bruised, disoriented, exposed. He had worked hard to keep his two worlds separate, and his two lives and his two persons. Now he did not know how he would cope with having everything merged. It had happened all of a rush in the course of one day, and he was aware that there would be no going back. He had made the decision after Watley had asked his questions in the library this afternoon to put Ricky first, the consequences to himself be damned, and now everyone knew.Everyone.His butler and four footmen had been present in the dining room while he told his story. He had been aware of them and had briefly considered dismissing them. But what would have been the point when part of the strategy was to involve servants as well as everyone else?
He did not doubt that well before the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing room everyone belowstairs was buzzing with the news that their master had lived for a number of years after his father kicked him out of here with the foreman of a stone quarry and his daft brother in a cottage and had earned his living in the quarry.
Did it matter that everyone now knew how he had spent those missing years? Did it matter that they knew he had not relied upon privilege or the charity of relatives or friends? That he had worked for a living at the most menial and brutal and backbreaking of tasks? That he loved the people who had taken him in and given him work? That he was frantic over the fact that one of them was missing—and did not have the mental capacity to look after himself??
It didnotmatter, he decided as he dipped his quill pen into the ink bottle to continue one of his letters. He was not ashamed of those years or of those people. He could have stayed with his aunt and uncle Sharpe after running to them. He could have crawled off to Cornwall to throw himself upon the charity of his aunts and uncles there. He could have tried a number of other options more suited to his status and upbringing. Instead he had gone alone into the world to make his own way.
It was not his pride that mattered now, but Ricky. And Wes. And Hilda. His first letter, which he would send off early tomorrow morning with a groom rather than with the regular mail, was to Wes and Hilda.
Wouldhis father have been proud of him? Leonard Dickson thought so. Or had his father gone to his grave believing what he had believed that day—the worst day of Justin’s life and possibly of his father’s too? No, not quite the worst. The day his mother died had that honor.
When he returned to the drawing room a number of the young people were taking sides for charades while most of the older ladies had gathered in a circle to talk. Angela Ormsbury was playing the pianoforte softly while Ernie Sharpe stood behind the bench and turned the pages of her music. Lady Maple was seated in her usual chair. Maria and Lady Estelle Lamarr were with her, though Maria had been picked for one of the teams for charades and was being summoned to join it. Lady Estelle was rising with her. Four of the older men had made up a table for cards.
Watley removed his list from an inside pocket of his coat when he saw Justin and waved it in his direction.
“We have lots of new ideas and suggestions,” he said. “Poor Ricky does not stand a chance against us, Brandon.Tomorrow we will spring into action. But for now...? My team has a game of charades to win.” He returned the list to his pocket.
“Or to lose,” Sid Sharpe said. “You are not on my team, Watley. Jolly bad luck, old chap.”
“Ah, but we have Lady Maria,” Watley said, grinning.
“And I am about to acquire your sister,” Sid told him. “Lady Estelle?”
“I am going to escort Lady Maple to her room,” she said. “She is tired. Please proceed without me.”
“Dash it all!” Sid exclaimed. “Who is that hiding in the corner? Wallace Chandler? Get over here, young man. You are on my team as of this moment.”
Justin strode toward Lady Maple’s chair. “You are ready to retire for the night, ma’am?” he asked her. “Allow me to join Lady Estelle in escorting you. You may have two arms to lean upon instead of one. I shall have your maid sent up.”
“I am notold, Brandon,” she said rather tartly. “Merely a bit on the elderly side. However, I never was able to resist the escort of a handsome man. And I like Lady Estelle. She does not fuss or treat me like a doddering old thing.”
He helped her to her feet and gave her his arm before taking her cane in his free hand. Lady Estelle went ahead of them to open the door. They walked at a sedate pace along a wide corridor, up one flight of stairs to the west wing, and along another corridor to Lady Maple’s room. She talked most of the way.
“She looks like a frail, timid thing, that great-niece of mine,” she said. “But she has backbone. No thanks to Lilian. She is beginning to understand that all the members of her family on both sidesplusthose on your mother’s side, Brandon, are not the collective enemy. One is not supposedto speak ill of the dead, but really there is just one villain in this whole situation. I am not sure Maria has got quite there yet, but she surely will. She is beginning to talk to her relatives and to listen to them. Bless her heart.”
“Your niece was only seventeen when she married the late Earl of Brandon, I believe, ma’am,” Lady Estelle said. “She had not been raised in his world or even the world of the lesser gentry. She came from a wealthy middle-class family and had a very brief training in the manners of the upper classes when you took her to London. She was little more than a child. Perhaps it would be kinder to see her not so much as a villain but as a bewildered girl whose insecurities must have been enormous. I suppose she did the best she could to cope with a situation that must have almost overwhelmed her.”
“I suppose you are of the sort that has always felt sorry for Cinderella,” Lady Maple said.
“Well.” Lady Estelle laughed. “I have. The dazzlingly glamorous life of a princess she must have expected was probably neither as dazzling nor as glamorous in reality as it appeared in anticipation. Even the romance of falling in love with a prince would not have helped her beyond a certain point. The late Lady Brandon—Maria’s mother—was probably no more villainous at heart than anyone else. She just did what she believed must be done to help her adjust to the new world into which she had been thrust.”
Ashehad done under totally different circumstances, Justin thought. Except that he did not believe he had ever hurt anyone in the process—except Ricky. He had made a careless promise to a man who did not understand that promises could not always be kept, and the consequences might well be catastrophic.
“What you mean,” Lady Maple said, “is the new world into which she thrust herself with her lying and scheming and determination to better herself.”
Fortunately they had reached her room. Justin opened the door and was thankful to see that candles were burning within and Lady Maple’s maid already awaited her there.
“Maria wanted me to tell her more about her mother tonight,” Lady Maple said. “So I did. I told her how she had been spoiled and flattered throughout her childhood and girlhood because of her looks. I told her how she wheedled and pestered me until I agreed to take her to London and let her attend a few parties. I told her that Lilian’s one goal in life was to marry a prince, or as close to a prince as she could get.”
“Ah,” Justin said. “Your maid is here, ma’am. I am sure she will see to it that you have everything you need.”
“I hope you sleep well,” Lady Estelle said.
“I still believe,” Lady Maple said, “that she caused that rift with your father, Brandon. And I disagree with you, Lady Estelle. She was not a normal human being, that one. She was a wicked puss. My one consolation for having agreed to take her to London is that Maria is in this world as a result and that she seems to have more of her father in her than her mother.”
“Good night, ma’am,” Justin said. “Sleep well.”
And he shut the door firmly and turned toward Lady Estelle. They stared silently at each other for a few moments in the flickering light of a candle in one of the wall sconces.
