“Oh.” Mr. Debrett relaxed into his chair, relieved.
“I merely require your assistance to document the right to bind of Miss Harriet Smith. Due to an accident of missed records, her history is regretfully lost.” I laughed delicately. “You must agree that her status as a lady is evident.”
Mr. Debrett’s posture stiffened. “I fear there has been a misunderstanding. As I have said,Debrett’s Dracal Lineageis forged on integrity. This has been a charming visit, but I document verifiable records, not personal appeals. I cannot help you.”
Harriet rose,more dignified and ladylike than I had ever seen her. “You are very clear, sir. We are sorry for taking your time.”
I held up my hand. “Harriet, wait.”
The bluntness of his answer, and Harriet’s grace, and that word,records, spun in my mind and became resolve. My third secret must be revealed.
I drew a deep breath. “Harriet Smith has the right to bind. I can prove that Miss Smith is gentry.”
Mr. Debrett eyed me skeptically. “Prove it?”
I beckoned Harriet. Uncertainly, she sat back down. I turned to her and squeezed her palm between mine. “Dear Harriet, I can think of no other way to say this but the simplest. We are sisters.”
She shook her head. “Miss Woodhouse. I am embarrassed. It is time we left.”
“I swear it is true. We share a father. You are the natural daughter of my papa, Mr. Woodhouse, a gentleman. He told me with his last breaths.”
She became still. “That cannot be,” she whispered. “I met my father. A tradesman.”
“You met a tradesman who owed my father a great deal of money.” I opened my reticule, pulled out a bundle of papers—I had carried them to the ball, unwilling to leave them unprotected in our rented room—and held them for her. She shook her head, tears swelling in her eyes, so I placed them on Mr. Debrett’s desk. “He owed one hundred and twenty pounds. Papa canceled the debt after he went to Mrs. Goddard’s school and pretended to be your father. A gentleman should have revealed himself to you, but Papa… did not intend to do so. He thought offering a tradesman was a kindness compared to silence.” Hot tears of shame ran down my cheeks. Shame, but relief, too. “He regretted it.”
Harriet stared, her lips a little apart. “Why did you nottellme?”
“I… I do not know. I was stunned when he told me. Ashamed for how he treated you. For how I had treated you.”
“Howyoutreated me? You are so kind to me. You have been my dearest friend.” She drew back. “Is this why?”
“No! We were fast friends before I knew. Our friendship is why Papa confessed to me. Why he changed his mind.”
Mr. Debrett was leafing through the pages on his desk. “Mrs. Goddard’s was your boarding school?” Harriet nodded without looking away from me, and he continued, “There are receipts for each year’s fees, paid through a London lawyer.” He chuckled. “You would be astounded by how many naturalchildren I discover. They spring up like daisies. But it is rare they are so well documented.”
Harriet’s stillness broke. Her hand flew to her mouth. “My mother! Do you know who she is?”
“I know her Christian name. Abigail.”
“Is she alive?”
“She survived your birth. Then she moved away. I do not know where.” Harriet’s hands muffled her shocked cry. I drew a shaky breath and said it more bluntly—harder for me but perhaps easier for Harriet. “She did not abandon you easily. Papa arranged to send her away. I am sorry. That is all I know.”
In a surge of skirts and fury, Harriet stood. “It was lies.Youlied to me. You are ashamed of me.”
“No, Harriet! I promise. I had just lost Papa. It was all so strange…”
“Strange!” She gave a crazed laugh.
“I had to think of what to do,” I said desperately. “How to protect…”
Protect what? My father’s reputation? My fortune? The weeks after Papa’s death had been a whirlpool of grief and confusion and then—slowly—wonder and love.
Why had I waited? “I should have told you sooner. But Papa said—” I stopped.
Harriet’s voice was soft. “What did he say?”
My hands twisted in my lap. “He was not well. His mind was confused.”
