Thomas's eyes darkened. "By threats, Mother," he said, heavily. "Tyrone showed me the papers, tying various properties to my name. He informed me that he would take these papers to the solicitors and do all he could to have them transferred back to himself, so that he, in turn, owned all that was mine. I would be left with very little. My future and my livelihood were under threat and, as much as I wished to stand up for myself and shout aloud my brother's wrongdoing, I could not." His face flushed and he dropped his gaze to the floor. "I lacked courage and conviction and I did not behave as I ought."
Clara wanted to reach for him, wanted to tell him that she understood how severe Tyrone's threats could be but instead, she sat silently, watching the difference between her two brothers. Thomas, his shoulders rounded and his head lowered, clenched his jaw but his eyes remained downcast. Tyrone, on the other hand, sat tall in his seat, his eyes flashing but a hint of disdain in the curl of his lip. Thomas had admitted his fault but Tyrone had said nothing, blaming everything on his brother and making it appear as if he were without fault.
Her heart quailed. How ever was she to determine who was speaking the truth?
A knock at the door brought Lord Worthington back to mind. With a gasp, she looked to Lord Rutland who, in an instant, rose to his feet and walked to the door as if he were master of the house.
"We cannot know who speaks the truth," Clara said, before Tyrone could protest at Lord Rutland's actions. "But there is one who can do so."
Both Thomas and Lord Tyrone frowned at her.
"Who do you speak of, Clara?" Thomas asked, as Lord Rutland opened the door.
She drew in a steadying breath. "Miss Jennings can tell us," she said, quietly. "Look, she is here now."
24
Miss Jennings stood in the hallway, her face puce and her eyes huge as she twisted her fingers together in front of her. Lord Worthington had stepped back to give her space, and Josiah could see the tremor running through her frame --- but she had come. She had dressed carefully, written that letter of her own accord, and ridden across London in a borrowed carriage to stand in this hallway. That was not nothing.
"I do not think I can come in," she whispered.
Josiah said nothing for a moment. He would not force her. The decision to walk through that door had to be hers, just as the decision to come here had been.
Miss Jennings closed her eyes, drew in a breath that seemed to cost her everything, and then opened them again. Something shifted in her expression --- not courage, exactly, but a kind of grim resolve, as though she were reminding herself of the words she had written to Lady Clara.I would rather face it standing than cowering in this cottage.
She lifted her chin, nodded once, and without requiring his arm or even his presence beside her, stepped forwardinto the room. Josiah exchanged a look of surprise with Lord Worthington, but then followed in after her. Immediately, Lady Clara got to her feet and hurried towards Miss Jennings, taking her by the arm and leading her to sit beside her. Their heads came together as Lady Clara murmured something to Miss Jennings who, in turn, nodded.
Then, Lady Clara's eyes went to his and she smiled at him. Josiah's heart lifted.
"Mother, this is Miss Jennings," Lady Clara said, with a soft smile still on her lips. "A young lady who has done no wrong but who was promised love and matrimony."
Lady Tyrone drew herself up, a tight expression on her face. "I see."
Josiah watched as Miss Jennings let her gaze drift lightly around the room. Her eyes moved from face to face and he marked the moment they found Lord Tyrone --- a sharp intake of breath, a visible flinch, the colour draining from her already pale cheeks. That was the reaction Josiah had expected: the shock of seeing the man who had wronged her.
But then her gaze moved to Lord Thomas and something strange happened. Her brow creased and her head tilted, almost imperceptibly, as if she were trying to reconcile two things that did not fit. She looked from one brother to the other and then back again, her lips parting in what Josiah could only describe as bewilderment --- not the bewilderment of seeing two brothers who resembled each other, but something deeper, as though one of them looked as she expected and the other did not. Her eyes lingered on Lord Thomas with a flicker that was not recognition, exactly, but the ghost of it --- as if she had seen his face before in a different context and could not place where.
Then her gaze dropped quickly to the floor in front of her, leaving Lady Clara free to lead the conversation.
"You told me, Miss Jennings, that you were introduced to the younger brother of this family," Lady Clara said, as Miss Jennings nodded. "It was he who formed a connection with you, was it not?"
The softness of Miss Jennings' voice was so great, it was hard for Josiah to make out.
"Yes," she near whispered. "Yes, it was. He told me his name was Lord Thomas Frankton."
"Then that is our answer!" Lady Tyrone exclaimed, making Josiah himself start with the fervency in her voice. "Thomas, it is you who has done such a thing!"
Thomas shook his head. "There has been some mistake."
"How can there be?" Lady Tyrone cried, as Josiah moved to stand next to Miss Jennings, seeing her tremble. "I cannot understand ---"
"Mother, wait a moment." Clara got to her feet, silencing her mother. "I think there may well have been a misunderstanding."
The silence that ran through the room brought with it clarity and understanding. Josiah knew before Clara spoke what it was she was going to say. His eyes widened as he turned his attention to Lord Tyrone, seeing how the gentleman had seemingly deflated into his chair. His head was bowed, his hands clasped in his lap and a sense of defeat hanging over him.
"Miss Jennings, if you might be so bold?" Clara reached out one hand and brought Miss Jennings to stand up beside her. "Which of the gentlemen here is the man who called himself Lord Thomas --- the one who promised you so much?"
Every eye was pinned to Miss Jennings who, with a deep breath that lifted her chin, raised one hand and pointed directly to Lord Tyrone.
