Page 131 of Ironvine

“I shall tell you everything.” Aunt Vivian stood before them. “The time has finally come, and in a most unusual way.”

Alice gestured to the servant attending them, and he refilled everyone’s glasses with wine and left them alone.

Charles’s heart clenched tightly in his chest. “What the devil is this?”

“Your mother and Edward Townsend were very much in love,” replied Aunt Vivian.

“What? How? When?”

“Always.”

Georgina’s eyes widened, her lips parting. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

His brain stuttered. “Are you saying that when she was married to my father she—Is that why—”

“Oh, how fitting. Moral outrage coming from you?” Aunt Vivian’s voice hissed.

“Hardly,” Charles spit out. “Tell us everything.” He took Georgina’s cold hand in his.

Sitting down, Aunt Vivian had a long sip of wine. “Sophie knew Edward before she married your father. In fact, the two of them wanted to marry, but our parents would not allow it. They wanted the Earl of Ryvves for their eldest daughter, and they got him.

“Years later, and after your parents had separated, your father happened to meet Edward at his club in London. He liked him. Edward knew many artists, like Anton Sheffield, and your father wanted to meet Sheffield and a few others. Your father considered himself cultured, a patron of the arts.” Her lips twisted. “But it was Townsend who was a true patron to artists. The man had been bestowed a knighthood for all he’d done for artists’ causes, sponsoring exhibitions and the like. The Earl of Ryvves was enamoured by that world and invited him and Sheffield and a few others to Ironvine for a weekend.”

Charles’s eyes narrowed. “I do remember an artist sketching me and Hugh as we had our archery lesson while the adults went shooting. As you say, they were separated then, but Mother was at Ironvine that week, and the artist gave the drawing to her as a thank you gift.”

“Do you still have it?” Georgina asked.

“I—I don’t know.”

“Sophie had it. She framed it. It’s over there.” Aunt Vivian pointed to the far wall where a simple sketch with a lone wash of green watercolour was framed.

Georgina let go of his hand and went to the piece as Charles gulped in air. He remembered his mother’s pleasure at the gift. That she’d had it here in her home, filled his veins with a flood of warmth.

He remembered every inch of that watercolour. Two boys with bows and arrows, one taking aim, the other, the younger boy, faced the artist, head tilted, a slight smile on his face, his stance proud yet rather shy.

“Here is Mr. Sheffield’s signature on the bottom,” said Georgina, a hand at her mouth.

“That weekend was when your mother and Edward re-connected.” Her gaze darted to Georgina. “He’d married the year before. In fact, I believe you had just been born, my dear. Eventually, it all erupted between them, and they became very close and quite attached to one another. He often traveled for his work, and Sophie began to accompany him on these trips. Whenever she and Townsend could, they traveled abroad together.”

“I have all her letters from everywhere she traveled. Not once did she mention—”

“Come now, Charles. Would she have told you she was with a lover?”

“No, but—”

“Away from England they could be together freely,” murmured Georgina.

“Yes, they could be free. They were on those occasions,” said Vivian.

“Did he visit her here?” Charles asked, his throat constricting.

“She wouldn’t allow it. Sophie wanted to preserve the agreement she had with your father to see her boys. Can you imagine, if your father had found out? God knows what he would have done—”

“I know what he would have done,” fell from his lips, his heart pounding in his chest.

“He certainly would have forbid her from seeing you and Hugh ever again, and that would have been the least of it.” She met Charles’s hard gaze with her own. “Georgina, this must pain you, and I am sorry for that, but I felt you both deserved to know the truth.” She took Georgina’s hand in hers. “But the two of you married is truly…”

“I’m glad you’ve told us, Aunt,” said Georgina. “When my mother learnt of my marriage to Charles, she was livid, in a way I’d never seen her before. She said awful things about the Montclares. She said awful things about my father. Even my brother was taken aback.”

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