Mary sucked in a breath. It was as if she’d just been hurled into an abyss, arms flailing and all. Her entire body stiffened as the skin on her arms and shoulders tightened with a wash of prickly heat. “I cannot,” she whispered, shaking away a shiver.
“It is the most prudent way forward,” Richard told her calmly. “If Rotridge plans to use the information against you, your aunt will eventually find out. I think that it would be best if she did so from you.”
Mary knew that he was right, but that didn’t seem to diminish her fear in the least. She was terrified of what her aunt would think—of how she would react when she discovered that Mary had lied to her. Howmuch, she had lied to her. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she prayed for strength. When she opened them again, she focused all her attention on her aunt’s curious expression and said, “You know how fond I am of reading?”
Lady Foxworth nodded. “Of course. It is one of your favorite activities. You always go to bed early so that you can have a few hours to yourself with a good book. I have nothing against it personally though it has struck me as somewhat odd that a young lady, such as yourself, would prefer reading to an evening at the theatre.”
Hesitantly chewing on her lower lip, Mary squeezed Richard’s hand. “To be perfectly honest, I must confess that I do not. Prefer reading to an evening at the theatre, that is.”
“What do you mean?” Lady Foxworth’s lips parted in a perfectO,her eyes darting from Mary to Richard and back again.
“I mean that I was not reading when you thought I was. I was singing.” Sucking in a deep breath, Mary plunged forward. “And I was doing so at the opera, in full view of everyone who has ever bought a ticket to see Lucia Cavalani.”
Lady Foxworth blinked, then shook her head. “I do not understand.”
Leaning slightly forward, Mary met her aunt’s eyes. “Iam Lucia Cavalani, Aunt. I have been singing at the King’s Theatre for two full seasons now disguised as her, with earnings of five thousand pounds per annum. And that is—”
“Good Lord,” Richard breathed.
“I am speechless,” Lady Foxworth exclaimed. “Positively speechless!”
“And that is without considering the additional profits that I have acquired from occasionally performing by special request or going on tour. If you recall, I did stay with my brother a few times during the off-season.”
“Your brother knew about this?” Lady Foxworth sounded truly appalled now.
“I believe it was to his advantage,” Richard said, “Though I must confess that I had no idea of just how much until this moment.” Turning his head he looked down at Mary with a mixture of admiration and something alarmingly similar to pity. “What was your total income this last year, Mary?”
“Sixteen thousand seven hundred pounds. To be exact.”
“Good grief!” Lady Foxworth curled her hand around the armrest as if to steady herself.
“And how much of that have you given your brother?” Richard asked.
“He needed my help,” Mary said, aware of how the situation probably looked.
“How much?” Richard repeated.
Feeling horribly foolish all of a sudden, Mary dropped her gaze. “Twelve thousand pounds.”
Silence fell upon the room for one long awful moment until Richard quietly said, “I am sorry, but I daresay that he has not been a very good brother to you.”
“I could not agree more,” Lady Foxworth said. “To think that he encouraged you to go behind my back, facilitating this... this folly! And for what? You could have been horribly ruined any number of times and in any number of ways too. The people you must have had to associate with... Good Lord! It does not bear thinking about, Mary. To say that I am disappointed in you would be a grave understatement. And your poor parents! Just think of—”
“That is quite enough,” Richard cut in. “There is no need to add salt to the wound, Lady Foxworth. Mary knows that what she did was risky, and yet I cannot help but admire her for it nonetheless.”
“Admire her?” Lady Foxworth’s tone reminded Mary of nails on a chalkboard.
“For better or worse, she tried to help her brother overcome a difficult situation when he had no one else to turn to. She did so by transforming her voice into a powerful asset—one that is worth five thousand pounds per annum! Can you imagine how difficult that must have been for her? Just coordinating everything so that nobody would learn the truth about her is a remarkable feat on its own. But if you hear her sing—”
“Ihaveheard her sing, Mr.Heartly,” Lady Foxworth said tightly and with an underlying note of exhaustion. Her nostrils flared. “In fact, it seems that I have had that pleasure repeatedly. At the King’s Theatre.”
“Then you must agree that she has an incredible talent,” Richard insisted.
Lady Foxworth stared back at Mary as if she were seeing her for the very first time, which made Mary feel much like a rare specimen in a glass jar at the Hunterian. It took every ounce of restraint she possessed not to squirm.
Eventually her aunt nodded. “Indeed, there is no denying that.” Mary breathed a sigh of relief, which came a moment too soon since her aunt continued with, “But...” She held up a pointed finger to accentuate the word. “That does not mean that I will forgive you for betraying my trust, Mary. Apparently, you are not the person I thought you to be, but someone else entirely, and that is not an easy thing for me to accept. I am sorry.”
If her aunt had struck her, Mary doubted it would have hurt as much as the words that had just been spoken. They fell heavily between them, like thick snow dislodged from a rooftop.
