Page 102 of His Lordship's True Lady
Lily’s expression remained impassive. “Tell me about your death.”
“I nearly did die,” Mrs. Delmar said. “Uncle and Lawrence had a terrible difference of opinion, and when Lawrence told me he was returning to Scotland, I begged him to take me with him. I could see what Uncle had in store for me, and I suspected he was frittering away my fortune.”
Delmar cleared his throat. “Leggett and I argued about that. He directed me to misappropriate some funds from the trust accounts, and I refused. Our disagreement was conducted at ungentlemanly volume, and Leggett threatened to have me arrested for stealing.”
A breeze stirred the trees such that a beam of sunlight danced across Lily’s face, making her look very young.
And very brave. Hessian fell in love with her for about the fourth time that morning.
“Tippy mentioned something recently,” Lily said, “about Mama being constantly criticized growing up, and Uncle able to do no wrong. He apparently played fast and free with Mama’s money, tossed out threats of criminal prosecution in several directions, and generally comported himself like a brat overdue for a spanking.”
“He certainly threatened Tippy,” Mrs. Delmar said. “Threatened to cut her off without a penny, threatened to lay the whole ruse with you at her feet.”
Lily sat quite tall. “Not a ruse, Annie. An elaborate and fraudulent deception, in which I gather you were complicit.”
“When I learned of it,” Mrs. Delmar said, “which was more than two years after my arrival in Scotland, I remained silent. I’m sorry for it, and I hope someday you can forgive me.”
* * *
This is not what I want.
The thought ran through Lily’s mind like a Greek chorus, counterpointing the action in a drama Lily wished were over.
I don’t want a father—much less a ducal father—who is ignorant of my existence.
I don’t want a sister who left me to make shift with a lying, manipulative bully of an uncle.
I don’t want to forgive anybody—except myself. I assuredly want to forgive myself.
“Perhaps,” Hessian said, “if you explain the circumstances in Scotland, Mrs. Delmar, Lily will be better able to understand your motivations.”
Thank God for Hessian Kettering and for his ability to keep the peace when Lily didn’t know whether to weep, shout, or leave the scene in high dudgeon.
Except, this was the bucolic splendor of Hyde Park, one of the few places she felt safe and happy. Bedamned to any sister who thought Lily would yield this ground without having heard the whole, miserable truth.
“When Lawrence left London,” Annie began, “he begged me to stay behind, to make a good match, to patch up my differences with Uncle Walter. I could not do it. I could not put up with Uncle’s schemes to marry me off, his constant innuendo about Mama. I made Lawrence take me with him. We could not afford to go by post, so we ended up on a public stage.”
At seventeen, Lily’s sister had been able to choose her future. Lily was bitterly resentful—also glad for her sister.
“Public stages are notoriously prone to overbalancing,” Lily said. They carried as many passengers as they could cram inside, on the roof, and clinging to the boot, and half the time, the coachman was drunk.
“Ours got into a spectacular crash,” Annie said. “One elderly woman did not survive her injuries. I broke my arm, sprained my ankle, and took a blow to the head. I was not expected to recover. Lawrence had been riding on the roof and was able to jump clear.”
Hessian’s hand on Lily’s shoulder was an anchor to the present moment, but she recalled all too well the silent tension at the coaching inn when a stage was late, then later still. The roads were miserable, accidents frequent, and tragedy not uncommon.
“But you did not die,” Lily said. “I am glad you did not die.” She could concede that much, could concede it was better to know the truth, to have a sibling alive and well.
“I healed slowly, with frequent headaches, and I have never been able to recall the accident itself. As I lay in my bed, day after day, I thought about what going back to London would mean. I had no idea Uncle would inveigle you into impersonating me, Lily. No idea at all.
“All I knew was that Uncle had made Mama and me miserable. He’d assured me you were well provided for, but refused to tell me where you were. I don’t think Tippy knew either, not then. I could go back to London to my supposed fortune, my excellent birth, my doting Uncle, or I could have Lawrence. I chose Lawrence.”
“And we,” Mr. Delmar said, “chose to deceive Leggett. I had a cousin post a letter from France informing Leggett that his niece had died as a result of injuries sustained in a coaching accident, nothing more. We knew the Ferguson fortune would remain in his hands, but we honestly thought it would become yours, Lily.”
“I never wanted a fortune,” Lily said. “I still don’t want a fortune.” Though Mama had said Lily would be provided for. Had she told Annie that her younger sister would be taken care of?
“And I never wanted you to take my place,” Annie said. “Was it awful?”
Clearly, Lily was supposed to offer her sister a soothing lie. “Yes, life with Uncle Walter was awful. I wanted for nothing in a material sense, but I had no privacy. I was afraid all the time, for myself, for Tippy. I had no independence and few friends, nobody I could trust with the truth. He made your life hell, Annie. Imagine the havoc he wrought with mine.”
