“I am not sure if you know,” Henrietta began, “but my family—I am not sure what John has told you—but we are not exactly…lily white…in the reputation department.”
Catherine tried to not react as she took in Henrietta’s words. John had told her Henrietta had no knowledge of the scandal, but her tone of voice at present suggested otherwise.
“I am not quite sure what you mean.” Catherine wanted to gauge Henrietta’s level of information before she said anything. “You will need to be a little bit more precise.”
Henrietta bit her lip. “Well, a very, very long time ago, my father, who is dead now, as I am sure you know…” She reached down to her wrist and fidgeted with the cuff of her gown. “He died very recently, actually, as I am sure you also know.”
Henrietta’s voice wavered. Catherine felt a pang of cutting grief for this orphaned girl. She knew all too well how she felt.
“Anyway,” she continued, recovering her composure, “he hada mistress, or something like that—a woman, who was not my mother.”
Catherine willed herself not to react. Shewouldnot reveal anything until she knew what Henrietta knew. God, how could John have been so ignorant? Henrietta had grown up in the epicenter of the scandal’s aftermath and he had expected her not to know anything of it? The girl would have to be a dull one indeed to not know—and Henrietta seemed nothing if not sharp. Catherine should have never believed it. He had seemed so certain, but she should have suspected that he didn’t have the measure of the situation.
“And this woman, she was from the estate only over a little way. She wasn’t a courtesan but a regular gentlewoman.”
Catherine braced for Henrietta to make a disparaging remark about her family.
“My mother found out,” Henrietta said darkly, passing over the Forsters without comment, as if they hardly mattered to the story. “And becamevery upset, apparently. She stormed off and started her own—well, you know—with a baron, I think?”
Poor Henrietta, Catherine thought. She knew what it was like to try and piece together a history—thesamehistory in fact—that no one would tell you directly but which nevertheless completely shaped your life.
“I’m not sure which one, to be honest, but I’m pretty sure, it was a baron,” Henrietta said, as if she were talking to herself. “Anyway, it’s not important. She ran away with the baron of something, or a baron-like figure. And, not long after, I was born. She died giving birth to me.”
Catherine looked into Henrietta’s delicate face. The girl was waiting for an acknowledgment. She did not talk to many outsiders and Catherine could tell she wanted to see if it was widely known.
“I have heard the story,” she said, with a nod, wishing she could say more.
“Bollocks,” Henrietta said, “I suspected as much. I suppose everyone knows.” The girl sighed. “Anyway, apparently, many say that I am not my father’s child, because of my mother running away with the baron, or this baron-like personage.”
“He was a baron.” Catherine felt that she could at least provide that.
“Oh. Well, I suppose it’s good that hewasindeed a baron. If I’m an illegitimate scandal, at least I am anaristocraticillegitimate scandal.”
Catherine laughed, even though her heart hurt for Henrietta. She was struck by how, in telling the tale, Henrietta was focused on the actions ofhermother. It reminded Catherine of how she had always felt judged by her aunt’s conduct. She caught from Henrietta the same fear. The duchess’s conduct was an angle of the story that Catherine herself had never considered closely, but she saw now that Henrietta was mostly worried about how her own mother’s decisions might affect how others sawherin the present. She was comparatively unconcerned with her father’s role in the story or that of the gentlewoman from the other estate. Perhaps, Catherine thought, she herself wouldn’t have felt the same shame if it had been her father’s scandal and not that of the woman who had been—socially and practically—the closest thing she had to a mother.
“Anyway,” Henrietta said, “since you are my tutor, for the season, I felt as if I should tell you, because I’m fairly worried about how this will affect everything. And if my life is destroyed before it has begun?”
Tears had formed in Henrietta’s eyes. Catherine gave her hand an extra squeeze.
“Have you spoken to your brother about this?”
“No! How could I? Oh God, it would be mortifying, to talk about such things with him! He is so proper. And respected. And no one doubtshisparentage. It would be too embarrassing.”
Catherine suppressed a laugh at John as “proper.” Clearly, not all the gossip of thetonhad permeated the walls of Edington Hall. The girl was in for a shock when she first heard of the Rank Rakes. Even stranger, Henrietta thought that her brother had no shame over the scandal, because he wasn’t a woman and his parentage wasn’t questioned. She knew nothing of his torment over this very subject. She marveled at how little people in families knew of each other’s inner lives. She supposed, thinking of what her aunt had done with no warning, her family hadn’t been any different.
“Henrietta, we should speak to your brother. I believe he is under the impression that you know nothing of this.”
“I know. He thinks I’m soinnocent.”
“Howdoyou know?”
Henrietta laughed. “I have overheard the servants talking about it many times. It would be impossible for menotto know and yet John and my father never discussed it. I always assumed it was because they were too embarrassed—well, you know, ofme.”
Catherine’s remaining patience with John fractured with these words. She watched in dismay as tears now slid down Henrietta’s cheeks.
“I am surethatisn’t true.” Catherine wished she could say more. Instead, she wrapped Henrietta into a hug. Anger swelled inside of her on Henrietta’s behalf. How lonely must she be to tell a relative stranger this entire story within moments of being alone with her?
When Henrietta stopped crying quite as much, Catherine drew back and took her hand. Her blue eyes were swimming with pain. Catherine thanked God that Henrietta was still innocent enough to speak about this topic—that she wasn’t so broken that she kept these thoughts inside.
