Page 86 of Forgotten No More

“Be that as it may, no person—regardless of their demeanor or, for lack of a better term, defect—should be ‘shoved in a pine box’ and shipped to places unknown to be buried as if they never were.”

“I am not a child, and you have no right to lecture me like you are my mother. Furthermore, he was my father.” Ellie stood. “I will return and see about locating his solicitor or some papers from his study that may prove helpful. I will contact you shortly.”

“I did not mean to offend you,” Ruby soothed, “or insinuate you have a lack of attachment to him. I only sought to make clear that I am here for you and will assist in making arrangements.” The girl was temperamental, much like Ruby—and, it seemed, the father they shared. “Please, sit and finish your tea.”

“You were correct earlier. It was foolish to leave the marquis in his current state. I should return.”

As Ellie moved toward the door, Ruby took in her appearance for the first time. Her hair, while brushed, hung haphazardly about her shoulder in disarray, dark circles beneath her tired eyes. She’d clearly slept in her clothes.

Ruby let her go, sorry for all her sister had lived through, knowing she hadn’t learned all Ellie had suffered as a child. If they’d only known of each other sooner, they could have shared a better life—Ellie free of Drake, and Ruby independent of her own mother. Things could have been very different for them both. She would have made sure things were better for them, done all in her power to make sure the deadened look in her sister’s eyes had never come to be.

“She is a hellion,” Harold said.

“If she wasn’t, I fear she would not have made it into her youth,” Ruby snapped protectively.

Harold held up his hands in surrender. “You misunderstand my words.”

“I am under an immense amount of stress—”

“Truly, you have no need to apologize. It is I who should apologize for my forward behavior by intruding on you and Lady Ellie. You were exhausted last evening when we returned home, and I hoped to finish our discussion.”

“Your attendance did not change a thing.” Ruby slouched against her seat, her hand brushing the sack at her side. “I fear Ellie is who she is and neither you nor I can change that. I think we only have Drake to blame.”

Harold eyed her hand as she caressed the small bag. “Are you going to see what is inside?”

Would he think her a horrible person if she said no? Opening the bag was the last thing she wanted to do at this moment, but blatantly pushing it aside would draw undue attention to her avoidance. Reluctantly, she took hold of the bag. It weighed less than a book, yet not as light as a pair of gloves. She’d sensed from the moment her sister tossed the bag to her that it held more than her forgotten finery. She couldn’t imagine it held much, but feared what its contents might be.

The drawstring, tied in a neat bow, slipped from her grasp when her fingers shook.

Harold took the bag from her hands and opened it before she could protest. “Allow me,” he said. He dumped the items into his lap and set the sack aside. “A stack of letters, a letter opener, and a note. See, nothing overly shocking or life changing.”

Ruby watched him examine each item, unaware how life changing they actually were. The bundle of letters, most still sealed, brought a tear to her eyes. Her mother’s heart poured upon deteriorating paper, with ink worth more than blood. She fought not to reach out for them, hold them tight… The writings of the woman who’d birthed her, but about whom she knew so little. One should not learn about a parent through decades-old letters. Would she understand Pearl St. Augustin after reading them? Would her heart soften toward the scorned woman?

“Why in heaven would she give you a letter opener?” Harold asked.

Ruby dared not hope it was the same letter opener her mother spent all her shillings to have commissioned for her lover.

He held the small dagger up, tip pointed in his palm. “Still sharp, if not a bit worn.”

The light that shone in from the window reflected off the inlaid rubies. It was exactly as her mother had described it in her journal—exquisitely handcrafted. Ruby knew if she looked close she’d see the words from A Midsummer Night’s Dream inscribed on the handle.

Next, Harold lifted the folded note for her to see. “Do you wish for me to read the message?”

She only nodded, afraid the emotions roiling inside her would spill out if she opened her mouth to speak.

Harold unfolded the sheet of paper and cleared his voice, preparing to read.

But nothing came out as he scanned the page and a barrage of emotions crossed his face: astonishment, confusion, fury, grief…and finally pity—for Ruby, she was sure.

Ruby had not set out looking for or wanting pity of any kind. Regardless of her mother and the circumstances surrounding her birth, she’d had a childhood filled with love and all the frilly trinkets any girl could want. It was only when she was older that she’d noticed all was not as it should be with her own mother.

Refolding the letter, Harold looked up at her. “We can save this for another day. Perhaps it is best we start making plans for the marquis’ service.”

“Oh no, you do not!” If she’d been standing she would have stomped her foot in childish protest. “Either read it or hand it over. I fear if I wait another moment to find out what it says I will likely bust.”

Harold looked positively uncomfortable and was probably regretting his choice to eavesdrop on Ruby and Ellie’s conversation. “I only think that after the previous twenty-four hours, this letter—” he spread the note before him. “—can wait for another day. But if you insist, I will share it with you.”

Ruby reached across him to snatch the paper.