“Well, thank God for that!”
“But he was also Viscount Dauntry. His travels were not on business, but to keep up his role as Lord Dauntry in Parliament and at his estate. I’m sure he didn’t enjoy that part of his life and that you and your children were his joy, but he couldn’t neglect his duties entirely.”
“Viscount Dauntry.” Kitty wondered if Dorothy would faint, but instead she gave a kind of laugh. “Poor Alfred. He must have hated that. Did he speak in Parliament?”
“I don’t know,” Braydon said. “I never thought to check.”
“Probably not. He had a stutter, you see. It wasn’t too bad at home, but it sometimes afflicted him when we were with others. It always seemed worse when he returned from his trips.”
“I’m not at all surprised,” Braydon said. “I must tell you that he also had two children by his wife. The boy, Alfred, died of the same fever, which is how I came to inherit the title, but the girl, Isabella, was spared. She’s nearly seventeen.”
Kitty thought all this information might tip poor Dorothy’s wits, but it seemed to help.
“Seventeen, and he never mentioned her.”
“How could he? I’m sure he felt a fatherly affection for her. One of his last acts was to make sure she was well provided for.”
“Will I be able to visit his grave?”
“I recommend that you don’t. It would be bound to raise questions. I suggest that you commission a memorial for the church here. It will serve the purpose as well.”
Kitty wondered about that, but Dorothy said, “I suppose so. I’ve never felt attachment to my parents’ mortal remains. He had my father moved here when we married. He wanted to be close to London for business purposes—or so he said.” She shook her head, still coming to terms with the reality. “So he bought this house for us. He moved my father here and hired an attendant so I needed only to supervise his care and was free to come and go. Like the queen, though at that time we didn’t know the worst about the king, only that he was unwell...” Perhapsshe realized she was wandering, for she composed herself. “He was a good, kind man.”
“He loved you,” Kitty said. “And you made him happy.”
“I do hope that’s true. It’s so very odd to think he’ll never return here. That we made no special farewells.” Dorothy straightened and looked at Braydon. “What should I do now?”
“Inform your children and your friends and neighbors of the death, as you would do if matters were regular. You can say that he died of a virulent fever and it was thought best to bury the body quickly. It’s true. Then continue on that road. Can you do that?”
“I can do whatever I must for my children’s sake.”
“You are a splendid woman. Do you know if he made a will?”
Kitty looked sharply at him. There’d been a will. What happened if there were two?
“I don’t think so,” Dorothy said. “I did ask him about it once, thinking he should, but he assured me he’d made all proper arrangements for us with the annuities. I didn’t like to pursue it.”
“As you say, he made other arrangements. However, I suspect that legally this house now belongs to the viscountcy. I’ll sign it over to you as soon as possible.”
“Thank you. This is all hard to take in.”
“Time will solve that, at least. If you have need of anything, cousin Dorothy, don’t hesitate to contact me.”
“Cousin.” That comfortable word that acknowledged a family connection without necessarily implying a close one.
He took out a card and wrote something on the back. “Any of those addresses will find me.”
“And we’ll visit,” Kitty said. “To make sure you’re all right. After all, Johnie and Alice are relatives of ours, no matter the legalities.” She hated to leave. “Are you sure you’re all right? We could stay longer.”
“No, thank you. You’ve been as kind as possible. I have friends here.”
And we are not friends,Kitty understood,but strangers bearing bad news.Cousin Dorothy could be a difficult woman, but she was a strong one.
Braydon said, “If I may offer one more piece of advice, cousin, keep that portrait out of sight. The chance of someone visiting here who would recognize it is remote, but why take the risk?”
Dorothy was sensible enough to recognize good advice. “I’ll keep it in my bedroom.”
Tears were beginning, and she blotted them with a handkerchief, but Kitty guessed she’d rather they leave. She had friends, she’d said, and why not? She’d lived here for something like seven years.
