Page 106 of His Lordship's True Lady
Worth managed the meeting, by arrangement. Hessian remained mostly silent, while Walter Leggett strutted, huffed, and gradually grew quiet, then silent. Hessian’s only possible contributions—“Damn you to hell,” or, “Name your seconds”—would not have added much to the conversation.
“If you insist the vows were spoken under duress,” Walter said, “you can have the marriage set aside. Few females know their own minds, I’ll grant you that. Still, Lily is family, and I expect you to return her to my care.”
Worth sat back, collecting the evidence of annulment. “My lord, what say you?”
Hessian checked his watch. “I say I have never met a greater pair of scheming ne’er-do-wells. The woman in your care is not Lillian Ann Ferguson. That good lady departed for parts north more than a decade ago, intent on becoming the lawfully wedded wife of one Lawrence Delmar. Mr. Delmar well recalls your plan to defraud Lady Nadine’s daughters of their inheritance.”
Hessian tugged the bell-pull. Oscar had gone pale, while Walter rose and glowered down his nose.
“I have never heard such a preposterous tale. My niece is very much alive, and I have paid dearly for Lily’s upbringing. I admit she has become a trifle unbalanced. Her mother was never very steady, and this story fits exactly with what I’d expect from a young lady whose mental condition is rapidly deteriorating.”
Worth pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sit, Leggett,” he said gently. “Nobody alleged that you’ve a dead niece. Nobody but you, that is.”
“Perhaps we’ve heard enough,” Oscar said, popping to his feet. “Lily and I had a misunderstanding, plain enough. I wish her the best, and Father and I will just be going.”
“You haven’t heard nearly enough,” Hessian said. “Did you know your father has been profiting from the illegal enslavement of others, Oscar? From smuggling and trafficking in contraband goods? Or trying to profit? Every groat he could steal from his nieces—note the plural—has been invested in out-lawed trade. Your own inheritance from your sainted mama was similarly squandered.”
Oscar sank back into his chair. “I don’t have an inherit—?Papa?”
“You were a minor,” Walter snapped. “Managing the funds for you was my duty, just as managing funds for that spoiled, ungrateful, undeserving, lying, little—”
The door had opened quietly, and Mrs. Delmar stood in the doorway. “You were saying, Uncle?”
Oscar mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “Oh God. That’s Lily. That’s the Lily who’s my cousin. She looks a deuced lot like the other Lily. I think I shall be sick.”
Delmar ushered his wife into the room, seating himself between Mrs. Delmar and her uncle.
“Leggett,” Delmar said. “Greetings, from Scotland. And yes, this marriage was and is legal. Had I any idea the chicanery you were capable of, I’d have eloped with my dear bride that much sooner. You look a bit peaked. Felons tend to have the loveliest complexions. Years without seeing any sunlight has at least that benefit.”
Leggett braced his hands on the back of his chair. “You can’t prove any of this nonsense.”
“Have a seat,” Hessian said, when he would rather have smacked a glove across Leggett’s arrogant face, “while I regale you with proof. Roberta Braithwaite has letters from Lady Nadine confirming the conception and healthy birth of a second daughter more than a year after the death of Lady Nadine’s husband.”
Actually, Hessian had those letters now, and had been glad to pay handsomely for their possession.
“The present vicar of a certain Derbyshire parish,” he went on, “has signed an affidavit confirming that one Lilith Ferguson was in the care of his predecessor and sent to work at the age of nine at a specific inn in the same town. Mrs. Delmar has a birthmark on the inside of her elbow that exactly matches the birthmark Lillian Ann Ferguson still bore at the age of seventeen.”
Leggett more or less fell into his chair.
Alas for Leggett, Hessian was not finished. “The innkeeper confirmed the girl’s employment and description, and further confirmed that her uncle, one Walter Leggett, took her away at the age of fourteen. Said uncle was good enough to sign the guest registry in a very legible hand, and hissignature is dated. Ephrata Tipton, now the wife of Captain John Spisak, has contributed extensively to the narrative as well. Shall I continue, Leggett?”
“Papa, we need to go,” Oscar croaked. “We need to leave and pack, for this is ruin. A few years on the Continent and we mightreturn, but Grampion is anearl. Lily is friends with acountess. We need to leave.”
And now came the best part, the part Lily had devised with her sister’s consent.
Hessian forbade himself to smile, though Worth was looking quite smug. “You, Oscar,” Hessian said, “may take yourself to darkest Peru, but your papa faces a different fate.”
Finally, Leggett had nothing to say. Hessian wished Lily could see him in that moment, afraid and ashamed, held accountable at last. No false smile lit his features, no sly self-satisfaction lurked in his eyes.
“There’s money,” Leggett said. “The Fergusons have funds that would go to Nadine’s daughter upon her marriage or her twenty-eighth birthday, whichever shall first occur. The sum is handsome, and nobody need do without because I made a few unfortunate investments.”
Mrs. Delmar snorted. Oscar half rose and sat back down.
“You will do without,” Hessian said. “You will do without your freedom. We’ve seen Lady Nadine’s will, Leggett, and her estate was left to her offspring living at the time of her death, share and share alike. She was purposely vague so that both of her daughters would inherit. You lied to the judges in Chancery—under oath, of course—the better to further your schemes.”
Leggett’s shoulders sagged. He’d aged ten years in the past quarter hour, but his purgatory was just beginning.
“Do you know, Leggett,” Hessian mused, “what it’s like to have no hope, no joy, no affection for years on end? To hold on to your honor as best you can regardless, to be as decent under the circumstances as you can be, despite all the injustice visited upon you?”
