Page 64 of A Baron's Scandalous Quill
Becca felt William’s hand had become stiff within her own, wooden, almost as cold as ice. With fervor, she clung to his hand even harder, wanting him to know that she was there for him, that she would always be if he needed her.
Until the day he may find me dispensable.
She brushed her father’s words from her mind and focused on the gentlemen before her.
“There’s one more letter I have not shown you. One I received from your mother.” Lord Longfellow reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter. He stood and tried to pass it to William, but William seemed hardly in a state to read. He was staring at his father with wide eyes.
“May I?” Becca asked, holding out her hand.
“Of course.” Lord Longfellow passed it to her. “Read it out, Miss Thornton. For so long, I have struggled to know what to make of it myself.” He returned to his chair and sat down, folding his arms and waiting for her to begin.
She squeezed William’s hand in comfort before she turned her focus to the letter and read it aloud.
“My dear stars, you will know by now, as I do, that my husband keeps many secrets. Indeed, what more darkness he has cooked up at night, what more frauds and miseries he has caused, has often been a topic of discussion between us, yet today I have discovered something I cannot forget. I write to you today not for myself, but on behalf of another lady.
“I write to you of a Miss Sarah Brackley. At least, that was her maiden name. I fear she is a woman much in trouble now. I hear of her and her boy, a lone child who has suffered from neglect. If it is out of my hands now, as I fear it may be, I ask you to do this one thing for me, William.”The way Anne used his Christian name for a change made both Becca and William flinch in surprise.
“I ask you to find them. Give them kindness if you can. If you are ever able to spare a little money, I beg you to send it their way. I know I ask a lot, but I plead with you to at least discover them. I believe them to have once lived in Stockbridge near Winchester, but I know nothing more.”
Seeing the letter went onto other matters, Becca broke off and folded up the letter.
“Anne knew?” Becca murmured eventually into the darkness. “She knew that your father had been married before.”
“They were married? Miss Brackley and George?” Lord Longfellow asked and stood in surprise. “Anne said nothing in her letter about George marrying her, only that Brackley was her maiden name.”
Wordlessly, William reached into his pocket. He pulled out George’s marriage certificate and handed it to his father. Lord Longfellow halted, nearly tripping on his rug once again as he stared at the words.
“This is astonishing!” he exclaimed in amazement. “What is this? Was their marriage annulled? Was it broken off somehow before he married your mother? This certificate predates their own wedding.”
“Father,” William said, his voice deep. Recognizing a tremble in his voice, Becca moved to take his hand again, and he took hers most readily. “George and my mother’s wedding. Did you attend it? Was it perfectly legal?”
“I did attend it. The sorriest day of my life.” He threw himself back down into his seat but could not sit back; he rested forward, his elbows on his knees, staring at the certificate in his grasp. “It was all perfectly legal. The certificate was signed, the banns were read, and there were plenty of witnesses.”
Becca looked at Henry. All through this conversation, he had remained quiet. He stared into his brandy glass, the golden liquid seemingly mesmerizing him. At one point, she thought he was asleep from exhaustion, then she realized he was not asleep at all but staring fixedly at that glass.
He knows something more.
“Did you send them money?” William asked his father.
“I did. I found them, though not directly. I went to Stockbridge. This is fifteen years ago at least now,” Lord Longfellow explained in a rush, gesturing in the air as he did so. “I found the vicar of her parish who said he knew her. He wouldn’t introduce me and probably feared what an earl wanted with a lady as poor as she was. He agreed instead to send her a message, so I handed him a note and gave him some money in it.”
“She couldn’t read.” Becca recalled how on the marriage certificate, Sarah Brackley had merely signed the certificate with a cross. Whoever this woman was, the chances of her being able to read Lord Longfellow’s message were slim.
“She would have got the money, though,” William said fervently, moving to stand and releasing Becca’s hand.
“I have sent money to her in much the same way ever since,” Lord Longfellow went on. “I had no idea that she married George Dorset. Anne never said!” He shook his head, baffled. “When your butler came asking about her, I was astonished.”
“How did you come here, Henry? What brought you here?” William asked, turning to face his butler.
“I went to Stockbridge. No one would speak to me about Sarah Brackley, and when I was there, I overheard the vicar speaking about how I was not the only one to look for the lady, that a gentleman by the name of Lord Longfellow had been looking for her for many years.” Henry lifted his chin and no longer stared at the glass. “So, I came here and saw…” He looked between the two men before him.
“The resemblance,” Becca finished for him, and he nodded.
A silence fell on the room.
Becca saw a muscle twitch in William’s cheek before he turned to his father and smiled a little. The joy in Lord Longfellow’s own expression could not be mistaken. They were delighted to find each other at last. Yet William’s smile faded fast. He jerked his head toward Henry.
“There has been a crime here, has there not?” he asked, his voice bitter and suddenly sharp. “A crime, something more than fraud.”
