“Of course,” he said. “I will bring them down for everyone to see.”
“Come and get a cup of tea while it is still hot,” Esme said to the new arrivals.
“My mother’s jewels were there too,” Maria said, and though she did not speak loudly, there was something in her voice that silenced everyone. “They were in the bag where she always kept them. Everything was there. At least, everything I could remember was there.”
“But that is wonderful,” Paulette Ormsbury said, beaming at Maria while everyone else remained silent. “Well... is it not?”
“I daresay your mama was mistaken, then, Maria,” Lady Maple said. “So all is well that ends well. If there is any tea left in the pot, Mrs.Ormsbury, I will have—”
“No,” Maria said. “She was not mistaken. She lied. She knew her jewelry was in the safe in Papa’s room, where it was always kept. She lied to me about why Papa sent Justin away because she did not want me to know the truth. And if anyone is now thinking that Justin must have been...dallyingwith Mama and Papa discovered them together, then I feel compelled to say that I am as certain as I can be that that is not the truth either. I was only eight years old, but I knew my brother better than that. That is all. Brandon isnota thief, and I apologize for having accused him in front of you all.”
Estelle took a step closer to her friend. Bertrand too was drawing nearer from one side while Sidney Sharpe was coming from the other side. But someone else forestalled them all. Mrs.Sharpe was sitting on a sofa close to Maria. She lifted one arm jangling with bracelets and bangles.
“Come, my love,” she said in her comfortable voice. “Come and sit here.”
“Aunt Betty,” Maria said, sitting and snuggling close while Justin’s aunt set an arm about her, just like a bird with her chick. “I loved her so much.”
“Well, of course you did, my love,” Mrs.Sharpe said. “And of course youdo.Here, look. Rosie has brought you a cup of tea.”
Rosie Sharpe sat on a footstool before the sofa and gazed up at her new friend with anxious concern. She held Maria’s cup and saucer in both hands. Mrs.Chandler had come to sit on Maria’s other side and was patting her thigh.
Everyone else launched into determined conversation.
Mr.Dickson was asking Lord Brandon about his years at the stone quarry and his acquaintance with Wesley Mort. The earl, Estelle could hear, instead of answering evasively, was telling the story of his broken nose.
“And just to think, Stell,” Bertrand said, coming to stand beside her, “that one of our main concerns in coming here was that we might be facing an unbearably tedious couple of weeks.”
“We will be home again soon,” she said.
“Is that what you want?” he asked softly. “To be home?”
She shrugged, and his arm came about her for a moment and hugged her to his side.
“Well,” he said, releasing her. “Maybe we need to think about where home really is.”
***
Estelle was sitting on the side of her bed, pulling a brush through her hair though her maid had done it for her just a short while ago in the dressing room before leaving for the night.
She was thinking of Bertrand’s questions.Is that whatyou want? To be home?... Maybe we need to think about where home really is.
Home was Elm Court, where she could be quiet and safe. Where she could have just her beloved twin for company. Where they had gone two years ago to find out who exactly they were and what it was they wanted of their lives. Had they discovered the answers? Had Bert? Had she? She would have said no—until with a single sentence her brother had revealed a truth to her.Maybe we need to think about where home really is.And she had found herself yearning for her father and her stepmother and...home.Redcliffe Court. The very heart of her family. For that was who she was—a member of a family, or, rather, of a group of families. And it was what she wanted of her life.Family. Belonging.
But being a twin had taught her about two halves of a whole. She would always need Bertrand to complete herself. But over and above that connection, she would need two families. Twosetsof families. She had not even left Everleigh yet, but already she knew she would miss the Ormsburys, the Sharpes, the Dicksons and Chandlers.
She wanted Justin Wiley, Earl of Brandon.
Oh yes, she wanted him inthatway. Of course she did. Sheyearnedfor him, or, rather, forit.For it with him. But it was not theonlyway. She wanted him with all his darkness, with all his contradictions. She wanted him with all his complexities, with all the dizzying array of experiences that had shaped him into who he was now.
A man in deep pain. Possibly a man with no way out of that pain ever. For his pain centered about his father, who was dead.
He was a man who could perhaps never be happy. Not even in those brief snatches of joy that comprised happinessfor most people. No one, surely, ever lived happily ever after. Even her father and stepmother. Even Camille and Joel or Abigail and Gil, her stepsisters and their husbands. Or Anna and Avery, Duke and Duchess of Netherby. Or any other couple she could think of whom she considered happily married. But for most people therewashappiness to be found.
Perhaps Justin could never be happy. Could she live with that?
Would she be given the chance to live with it? Most of the guests here were planning to go home the day after tomorrow. She and Bertrand were planning to leave too.
Would he offer her marriage again before then?
