“Oh, yes,” Alice said, and Bridget was pleased that the woman appeared relaxed, but she dreaded the conversation they’d need to have later in the day.
Once they were settled on a blanket on the shores of Lake Windermere, Bridget laid out the bread, cheese, cake, biscuits, and tea that Cook had prepared for them. After a few minutes of munching heartily, the women sat back and watched Edmund as he played with Bijou.
“Oh no,” Alice said as Edmund wandered too close to the water. “He can’t swim.” She started to get up.
“Sit,” Jane said. “I’ll go. I should like to stretch my legs a bit after all those lovely biscuits and cakes.”
“Thank you,” Alice said as she watched Jane race toward Edmund.
Bridget smiled to herself. Jane was going to make a wonderful mother.
“It’s good to see him so happy.” Alice pulled Charlotte onto her lap and handed the child a biscuit. “They need more days like this. But with Mr. Groby gone…”
“How are you coping—especially with little Edmund?” Bridget asked.
“It’s difficult. He wants to know when his papa is coming home. Charlotte is young yet, but it’s been hard for Edmund. I don’t know how I’m going to explain things to him if his papa is…” She shook her head.
Bridget bit her lip. Was all this an act to appear innocent on Alice Groby’s part? Or was she indeed ignorant of what had happened to George?Dare I mention the prospect of Groby being gibbeted in Braithwaite?
“If not for Mr. Collins, I don’t know where we would be. He’s been a great help with the farm and slaughterhouse.”
Bridget opened her mouth to comment, but the words wouldn’t come out. She needed to take this opportunity to question Alice about her relationship with Collins, but it went against her very nature to do so. It felt horribly impolite.
“I know what people are saying about us,” Alice said as if reading Bridget’s thoughts. “But they’re wrong. Douglas—Mr. Collins is—well, he’s a dear friend, and I couldn’t manage without him.”
“It does seem rather convenient that he was ready to take over from Mr. Groby the day he was arrested,” Bridget said, hating herself.
“I know it looks that way, but me and Mr. Collins have a history. We was friends before I were married. He used to work for my father, you see. That is why he were so quick to help me.”
“Yes,” Bridget looked down at her lap. “I know about that.”
“Oh?” Alice said.
Bridget inhaled and looked Alice in the eyes. “The fact is, you weren’t merely friends, were you? Mr. Collins followed you to Westmorland. And the two of you started a romance again in secret. Mr. Collins has already confessed as much to Mr. Squires.”
Alice lowered her gaze and smoothed her daughter’s frock. “I did love Mr. Collins once. He were the first man who were kind to me. My papa was…well, he treated me cruelly. I were grateful for Mr. Collins’s love. So grateful that I gave myself to him before marriage. And he would have married me too. I know that. He loved me then, and he still does. But my father had other plans for me. I thought I’d die when he forced me to marry Mr. Groby, a man I thought would be a monster like my father. But he weren’t. He were good to me, and he gave me a good life—a better life than I’d ever known. We had a family and were happy. I grew to care deeply for John.”
“That’s what I’d always thought. Despite the gossip in the village, you seemed very happy with Mr. Groby. He is a good man. So, what happened?”
“After my father died, Mr. Collins reappeared in my life. I were shocked to learn that he’d been working for my father for three years—shocked he’d done it in the hope of finding me. It were a grand gesture. I can’t say I felt nothing for him because that wouldn’t be true. Maybe I encouraged him—I don’t know. I felt responsible for his troubles—he’d lost his job as a teacher and bound himself to my father because of me. So after he came to Westmorland, I started meeting with him in secret because….” She dropped her gaze.
“Because Edmund is his son,” Bridget said.
Alice looked up, her eyes troubled. “How did you know? Did Mr. Collins say something?”
“No. He kept your secret. But Mr. Squires guessed, and Mr. Collins didn’t deny it.” Bridget paused. “That’s the reason your papa forcedyou to marry Mr. Groby, isn’t it? Because he knew you were with child.”
Alice gazed at her son, who was clapping his hands as Jane threw a stick for Bijou to fetch. “I felt beholden to try and find a way for Mr. Collins to be in Edmund’s life. I hoped he could be a family friend—a sort of uncle to Edmund. But John didn’t like Collins. I think he felt there was summat more between us. He questioned me about why Collins had come to Westmorland after leaving my father’s farm. He knew something weren’t right.”
“And what about George? Was Mr. Collins jealous of him at all?”
“He were leery of him. He said he couldn’t be trusted, and like John, he wanted me to stop my reading lessons. He said he would teach me himself. But I was quite happy with George’s lessons, and I didn’t like being told what to do by Douglas or my husband.” Her face reddened. “I have a stubbornness about me. It’s in my nature. But as it happens, I should have listened to them because they were right. George wasn’t a good man.”
“What do you mean?” Bridget said as a prickle of apprehension swept over her.
“He did just what my husband said he would do—he demanded another form of payment for his lessons. And when I refused, he became nasty. I believe if he weren’t afraid of my John, he’d have forced himself upon me.”
Bridget stifled her gasp with her hand.George?It couldn’t be true. He’d always been a perfect gentleman when in her company. She couldn’t even imagine…
