His Lordship's True Lady (True Gentlemen #4)(92)
I don’t want a father —much less a ducal father —who is ignorant of my existence.
I don’t want a sister who left me to make shift with a lying, manipulative bully of an uncle.
I don’t want to forgive anybody —except myself. I assuredly want to forgive myself.
“Perhaps,” Hessian said, “if you explain the circumstances in Scotland, Mrs. Delmar, Lily will be better able to understand your motivations.”
Thank God for Hessian Kettering and for his ability to keep the peace when Lily didn’t know whether to weep, shout, or leave the scene in high dudgeon.
Except, this was the bucolic splendor of Hyde Park, one of the few places she felt safe and happy. Bedamned to any sister who thought Lily would yield this ground without having heard the whole, miserable truth.
“When Lawrence left London,” Annie began, “he begged me to stay behind, to make a good match, to patch up my differences with Uncle Walter. I could not do it. I could not put up with Uncle’s schemes to marry me off, his constant innuendo about Mama. I made Lawrence take me with him. We could not afford to go by post, so we ended up on a public stage.”
At seventeen, Lily’s sister had been able to choose her future. Lily was bitterly resentful—also glad for her sister.
“Public stages are notoriously prone to overbalancing,” Lily said. They carried as many passengers as they could cram inside, on the roof, and clinging to the boot, and half the time, the coachman was drunk.
“Ours got into a spectacular crash,” Annie said. “One elderly woman did not survive her injuries. I broke my arm, sprained my ankle, and took a blow to the head. I was not expected to recover. Lawrence had been riding on the roof and was able to jump clear.”
Hessian’s hand on Lily’s shoulder was an anchor to the present moment, but she recalled all too well the silent tension at the coaching inn when a stage was late, then later still. The roads were miserable, accidents frequent, and tragedy not uncommon.
“But you did not die,” Lily said. “I am glad you did not die.” She could concede that much, could concede it was better to know the truth, to have a sibling alive and well.
“I healed slowly, with frequent headaches, and I have never been able to recall the accident itself. As I lay in my bed, day after day, I thought about what going back to London would mean. I had no idea Uncle would inveigle you into impersonating me, Lily. No idea at all.
“All I knew was that Uncle had made Mama and me miserable. He’d assured me you were well provided for, but refused to tell me where you were. I don’t think Tippy knew either, not then. I could go back to London to my supposed fortune, my excellent birth, my doting Uncle, or I could have Lawrence. I chose Lawrence.”
“And we,” Mr. Delmar said, “chose to deceive Leggett. I had a cousin post a letter from France informing Leggett that his niece had died as a result of injuries sustained in a coaching accident, nothing more. We knew the Ferguson fortune would remain in his hands, but we honestly thought it would become yours, Lily.”
“I never wanted a fortune,” Lily said. “I still don’t want a fortune.” Though Mama had said Lily would be provided for. Had she told Annie that her younger sister would be taken care of?
“And I never wanted you to take my place,” Annie said. “Was it awful?”
Clearly, Lily was supposed to offer her sister a soothing lie. “Yes, life with Uncle Walter was awful. I wanted for nothing in a material sense, but I had no privacy. I was afraid all the time, for myself, for Tippy. I had no independence and few friends, nobody I could trust with the truth. He made your life hell, Annie. Imagine the havoc he wrought with mine.”
Annie scowled, her expression reminiscent of Lily’s mama. “That’s what Uncle does. He cuts you off from anybody who might give you a good opinion of yourself, frightens you, and then pretends he was just joking. When I learned that you were being paraded around London in my place, I’d already presented Lawrence with our oldest boy. Tippy assured me you were managing, and I hoped you might make the good match Uncle was always trying to arrange for me.”
“To Oscar the noddypoop?”
They shared a smile, and Lily felt a spark of hope.
“If I might ask,” Hessian interjected, “how did you learn Lily had taken your place?”
Excellent question. Lily also wanted to know why her own sister hadn’t done anything to re-establish contact.
“Tippy was my governess,” Annie said, “my rock, when Mama died and thereafter. Lawrence didn’t think it fair to let her believe I was dead. He wrote to her sister in Chelsea, and two years later, when you had made your bow, Lily, Tippy began writing back. She was in a difficult position.”
“More difficult than I was?” Lily retorted. “Tippy had a snug cottage she could have sold, a tidy sum earning interest, and no obligation to Walter Leggett. I was fourteen years old, Annie. Fourteen, not a friend in the world, holes in both boots, and the stable boys were drawing lots to see which one would despoil me. Uncle offered me pretty frocks, lessons in French, and a come out. Not until he’d shipped me off to Switzerland did he make it plain all of this largesse was conditioned upon my learning to impersonate you.”
Squirrels chattered overhead, and from beyond the hedges came the sounds of laughing children and a honking goose. Hessian had been right to choose this place rather than some parlor or garden Lily didn’t own.