Page 9 of Destined to be a Duchess
“I suppose you’re right. I was sorry to hear about your husband’s passing.” Marianne knitted her fingers in her lap, trying to process her thoughts. “This has all been overwhelming for me. Before anything else, I would like to know how you knew my mother. I think it would give me some clarity.”
The duchess—Catherine—turned her gaze to the windows. She paused in thought, nodding slowly. “Your question is so simple,and yet I could not provide an easy answer if I tried.” She sighed, and Marianne braced herself.
“In my letter, I wrote that your mother and I were friends long ago. Our acquaintance predated your birth by about a year. Perhaps you will not know this—in all honesty, I am not aware of the story Anne told you—but your mother was a maid in a house in Norfolk before she ever dreamed of becoming a seamstress.”
“That is … news to me.” Despite the deep furrow forming in her brow, Marianne managed to keep her composure. “I had no idea that my mother had ever left London.”
“She certainly did. Anne was born here, in a little town called Dereham. Her family had been there for generations. People then were not nearly as nomadic as they are now.
The man who formerly employed her had also employed her mother, and his father had employed her grandmother, and so on and so forth. They worked on an estate named Hart Green just outside of the village. It was there that she and I met.” Her face flickered with sadness. “It was there that she met your father.”
Marianne reeled back in shock. “That’s impossible. My father was from London. He used to work the docks. My mother said …” She swallowed hard, thinking about Anne’s stories. “She said he was a drunkard who drowned in the Thames not long after I was born.”
The duchess was still and silent until her shoulders rose in a half-shrug. “That was a lie she told to protect you, Marianne.”
Marianne’s feelings warred inside her. The duchess had no reason to lie, but Marianne couldn’t believe that her mother, her best friend, could have fed her such a terrible lie.
“My mother wasn’t a liar,” Marianne murmured. Her eyes prickled with angry tears. “You’re wrong. You must have mistaken me for someone else.”
“I expected that you would find this difficult to accept.” Catherine’s voice was soft and sorrowful. “But it is the truth. I have a drawer full of your mother’s letters. You are welcome to read them for yourself this evening, and within them, you will see that my story aligns with hers. I did not invite you here to hurt you.”
Marianne believed that if nothing else. “If what you’re saying is true, then my real father … Did he work at the house with her?”
“In some fashion.” Catherine folded her hands in front of her mouth as if she were saying a prayer. “Your father was the son of the man who owned Hart Green. He met your mother while visiting his family. It was through him that I met your mother.”
“What …?” Marianne stared off into space, mind whirring. If her father had been friends with a duchess, then he must have been much more than a lowly dockworker, even in Norfolk. “Are you suggesting that my father was rich?”
“Rich … Titled … Oh, sweet girl …”
Suddenly, Catherine pushed herself out of her chair, rising before Marianne. Catherine looked down, her blue eyes rounded in despair, then started pacing.
“I wish you had known sooner. I pleaded with Anne to tell you the truth about your birth, but she was adamant that keeping you a secret was safer for you both. That may have been true, but this mess could so easily have been avoided …” She drew in a fractured breath.
“Your father’s name was Nicholas Chambers, and he was a good man. He was the son of the Earl of Foxburn, who lived at Hart Green, and he had been a dear friend of mine from childhood. He and your mother fell in love through his visits, which became more frequent once he met her. We should have seen the signs. By the time I had realized what had transpired between them, it was too late. I could not reverse their love, only support it.”
Marianne froze in shock. The story was ludicrous. Her mother would never have kept a secret of that magnitude from her. It was one thing to lie about a father who had died beforeMarianne had even had the chance to know him—but to suggest that Marianne was the illegitimate granddaughter of an earl was ridiculous.
“That’s not possible.” She laughed in disbelief. “If my father loved my mother—if he were agoodman—where is he now?”
Finally, Catherine settled in a patch of light in front of the window, halfway turned away from Marianne. “He’s dead,” she murmured. “For so long, he had wanted to marry Anne—their affair was an open secret at the house—but he couldn’t, knowing the scandal it would cause among his peers.
When your mother realized she was with child, Nicholas refused to abandon her, even while his father swore to disinherit him of everything he could. Nicholas didn’t care. They fled England and eloped without the earl’s permission. To this day, I’m still not certain where they went. There was talk of Brittany …”
She closed her eyes, wincing.
“Not long after, I received the first of your mother’s letters, announcing that Nicholas had died at sea. He contracted something on a ship and didn’t survive the crossing. Back in England, Anne was utterly defenceless. Before his death, Nicholas had barely made ends meet on what remained of the allowance he had accumulated over the years.”
“My mother was all alone.” Marianne’s lip quivered as she pictured her young mother, a baby in her arms, disembarking a ship with the corpse of her dead husband. “Why would she not seek out help from her husband’s family?”
“I can’t say.” Catherine turned to meet Marianne’s gaze, basking in the light. She could see in the duchess’ eyes that she had been honest about everything, as much as it hurt her. “I believe she was afraid they would try and take you from her. Make no mistake—they likely would have. The former Earl of Foxburn was not a kind man.
He might have accepted you because youwerelegitimate through that hasty marriage, but he would never have accepted your mother as his daughter-in-law.” She shrugged. “It was known that Nicholas had eloped and had a child. Many thought that they had died with him because neither Anne nor her baby were ever heard from again.”
“But you knew,” Marianne said, slowly overcoming her shock.
The duchess nodded. “She made me promise to keep it a secret, and I did. Anne trusted me. Long before your father died, I had helped organize their meetings. I was beside myself with joy to see him so happy, and something was thrilling about watching a true love story unfold against all odds. I was a young mother at the time, and we delighted in that rebellion, all three of us.”
Her face dropped. “I have wished every day for the past twenty years that I had been a voice of reason instead of the arbiter of all this misery … And yet, if I had not enabled their folly, I would not be standing here today speaking with you. Anne’s love for you was boundless, Marianne. These secrets do not change that fact.”
