Page 79 of The Heiress's Daughter
When he reached Bellaire Gardens, he found lights blazing in every window. So nobody had gone to bed early.
He yanked hard on the bellpull. The sound jangled loudly through the house. If that butler refused him…He’d never hit a butler, ancient or not—or any servant, for that matter—but there was always a first time.
But when the door flew open it was not the disapproving ancient butler who confronted him, but Clarissa, looking pale and distraught.
“Oh. Oh, it’s you,” she said in a disappointed voice. She peered around him, looking out into the street, then turned back to him and, with a visible effort, collected herself. “I’m so sorry, I should have sent a note to tell you my change of plan. I gather from your attire you did go to Almack’s.”
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Yes. Who were you hoping to see just now?”
She swallowed. “Zoë, my little sister.” Her face crumpled. “She’s gone. Run away.”
He drew her into his arms at once, saying, “Hush now, we’ll sort this out.” Holding her against him, breathing in her essence, he smoothed his hand soothingly up and down her spine and felt her slowly calm.
After a few moments she took a deep, tremulous breath and stepped back, much to his disappointment. “Thank you. I don’t mean to be a watering pot, it’s just…just that…she’s all alone.” She pressed her lips together, fighting for control.
He led her into the front sitting room, which was, thankfully, unoccupied, and sat with her on the sofa. “Now, tell me what happened.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. She was here this morning, seeming much as usual. And then, I didn’t see her during the day, but that’s not unusual—I assumed she was with Betty or visiting Lucy, Lady Thornton, over on the other side of the gardens. She often does. But then when Betty came to help me get dressed to go to Almack’s, I discovered she hadn’t seen Zoë all day, either.” She paused, her forehead crinkling thoughtfully. “And when I thought about it, I realized Zoë has been a little bit…odd lately.”
“In what way?”
“Yesterday we were talking over breakfast—I told her about what had happened the previous night with Mr. Clayborn—and when we’d finished, she was about to go downstairs and…” She gave Race a troubled look. “She thanked me in the oddest way. And then she said she’d been happy here, as if…”
“As if that time was coming to an end?”
She nodded.
“So you think she was saying goodbye?”
“In retrospect, yes. Oh, I should have said—we searched the house for her and found a note from her in her bedchamber. I’ll fetch it.” She hurried from the room and returned in a few minutes with a folded note and some loosely rolled papers tied with a ribbon. She handed him the note.
Dear Clarisa and Lady Skatergood I’m leavin I’m very greatful for all you done for me you bin very good and kind to me but it aint gunna work, me bein yore sisterClarisa. I aint no lady and nobodys gunna belive I am and itull all come back on you and yore sister and I dont want that to happen so Im goin away. Dont try to find me and dont worry Ill be all right. Im leavin these pichers as a little gift as a thank you for all your kindness and so you dont forget me. Please give Lucy and Lady Tarant and the little girls the ones of them, with my love and gratitude
love Zoë
Race folded the note. “I see. You know she’s right, don’t you?”
She stared at him, shocked. “How can you say that? She’s mysister.”
“Which hasn’t yet been proved.” He held up his hand. “No, I don’t mean to dispute your claim on her—the resemblance to your other sister is extraordinary. But she’s right that people won’t believe she’s a lady—it shows every time she opens her mouth—and attempting to pass her off as your sister will stir up the illegitimacy gossip again.”
“I don’t care! I couldn’t care two hoots what stupid society gossips say—she’s my sister and I want her to live with us, and be s-safe, and know she’s l-l-loved.” Her face crumpled again, and he drew her into his arms.
“Hush now, I know you don’t care what people think. That’s one of the things I love about you.”
She pulled back and looked up at him in surprise, her beautiful eyes wide and doubting and swimming with tears. But now was not the time to convince her of his sincerity. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her. Now, dry your eyes and put your thinking cap on. Where might she have gone? What are those other papers?”
Without a word she passed them to him. He unwound the loose piece of ribbon and unrolled the papers. They were drawings, a dozen or so in pen and ink and some in pencil, of Clarissa, of old Lady Scattergood, of Mrs. Price-Jones, of a couple of servants, some dogs, and some others,including the three little girls he’d met in the garden yesterday. Lastly there was a self-portrait of Zoë herself.
“These are very good. Zoë’s?”
She nodded.
“She’s very talented.” He picked up the one of Clarissa and examined it. “She’s captured you perfectly.”
Clarissa shook her head. “She’s made me look pretty and I’m not.”
“No, you’re not pretty,” he agreed. “But you are beautiful, and she sees that beauty in you. As do I.” She flushed, and before she could say anything he continued. “She also sees the beauty in Lady Scattergood, see? She hasn’t minimized her age or the many wrinkles in her lined old face, but the old lady’s inner beauty shines through, don’t you see? And the expression…”
