She’d had difficulty when she had Stephen, and it was almost four years before she again found herself pregnant.
Sir Edward should have been pleased. Instead, he was furious, unable to understand how she became pregnant after four years and accusing her of having taken a lover, as she had before they were married.
It was then the beatings began, leaving her badly bruised and with broken bones, and ended in the loss of the son he had so badly wanted.
The abuse was, I had learned through my sister’s experience, all too common, but there was little that was done about it.
The reasons were different, but always with the same ending, rage taken out on those who most often couldn’t defend themselves.
And then there was the financial reality of it all. A woman’s wealth, be it inheritance or money she had earned, all passed to her husband, with rare exception. In my sister’s case, her inheritance came through our great-aunt just as mine did.
“I was unable to have another child after that,” she continued in that same sad voice. “For a time, Edward seemed to accept Stephen. He was given the finest education, indulged as fathers indulge their children, and I thought…”
And yet, horrible things were said that last night before Stephen was killed, the truth of his‘early’birth flung in his face, as if it was his fault.
Sir Edward refused to accept a marriage to a young woman who very likely spread herself for every young man she came into contact with, repeating her disgrace of an illegitimate birth.
He told Stephen, in no uncertain terms, that he would either do exactly as he wanted, or he would be out on the street where he belonged. Difficult, painful words that could never be taken back.
“Stephen shared with me that she was going to have a child. I pleaded with Edward not to turn his back on Stephen or our grandchild, knowing he would force me to do so as well,” she said, looking out at that clearing once more.
“The weeks after Stephen was killed were very...I don’t remember much of that time. Edward arranged for a physician to provide medication so that I could sleep. It seems that all I did was sleep.
“I do remember speaking with Edward about the young woman and the child she was going to have—Stephen’s child. I insisted we couldn’t turn our backs on her. He said that he would take care of everything. But she had disappeared.
“By then Mr. Brodie had left, and the inspector who took over the case was certain that Stephen was killed by a man who hadentered the club that night with the entertainers, and robbery was very likely the reason he was killed.”
She continued to press her husband about the need to find Ellie Sutton. But he insisted that she had disappeared.
“It was better that way, he told me, and that most likely Stephen was not the father of her child. I still wanted to find her. I had to know. Edward refused to speak of it. He became angry whenever I asked what progress he had made.”
Had he become abusive over it? I wondered.
“He became...distant after that. He was rarely home. His excuse was the expansion of the business. He never spoke of Stephen after that, almost as if...he had never existed. When it came to arrangements to be made…” She hesitated, and I saw some other emotion on her face.
“He told me to make whatever arrangements I wanted.”
She looked at me then, a new emotion on her face. Strength and determination that had given her the strength to survive the tragedy of her husband’s neglect and abuse, and that tragic loss.
“I insisted that Stephen was to be buried here, under my family name,” she continued.
And she had continued to come here every week since.
“I don’t know how any of this might help Mr. Brodie now. As I said, he was very kind and understanding. I had hoped he might find the one who was responsible for Stephen’s death, since no one else was able to find them.
“I tried to contact him after I learned that he had left the MET and he had his own private inquiry firm, with the hope of finding Ellie. But that was...difficult. I’m certain you understand with what I’ve already told you.”
I could only imagine that Sir Edward would have objected strongly to any further inquiries that would only have caused him further embarrassment.
She looked down at the toy locomotive and her voice softened. “When Ellie Sutton returned, I had hoped that perhaps one day... She had sent round a note, to let me know that she had returned.
“I had heard the rumors, of course, that there was a child,” she continued. “I sent this to the hotel where she worked and had enclosed a note telling her that it was for her son.”
After a time she seemed to gather herself. “I would like very much to see my grandson. You will tell Mr. Brodie.”
I looked out the window opening and realized that Rory was all that Adelaide Matthews had now. I assured her that I would tell Brodie, and thanked her for the information she had shared with me. It couldn’t have been easy.
It had grown quite late, the sun low through the branches of the trees as I asked Mr. Hastings to take us back to the cottage.
