Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

" I always knew it was too good to be true," Iris whispered as she allowed her mother to help her to her feet. "He could never trust me, after everything he's been through."

She wasn't sure how much time had passed since Phineas had left them. All she knew was that she had been in a state of shock for some time, kneeling on the floor, either crying or staring off into nothing. Lady Carfield had at last pulled her to her feet, and now, her brow was furrowed with concern as she stroked the side of Iris's face.

"Let's get you some tea," she murmured at last. "That always helps when I'm upset."

"All the servants are traumatized from the break-in," Iris objected. "I can't ask them to make me tea."

"Then I'll make it," Lady Carfield declared. "I'm your mother, after all, and I can make my child a cup of tea after such a shock."

That is how, ten minutes later, Iris found herself sitting in the cozy kitchen of Eavestone House while her mother busied herself with a kettle. As she watched Lady Carfield fill the kettle, then light the stove with a matchbox not different from the one Phineas used to light his cigars, it struck her that she had never seen a woman of her own station do this kind of domestic labor before.

"How do you know how to do that?" Iris asked quietly as her mother began to search through the cupboards above the stovetop.

"Make tea?" Her mother gave her a baffled look. "It's not exactly difficult. You just boil water and pour it over—ahh, here it is." She had opened a cupboard full of pots. After sifting through them, she pulled out a glass one that had been stuffed full of tea leaves. Taking it down and opening it, she sniffed the contents. "Mmm, Earl Grey tea. Perfect."

Lady Carfield scooped out several spoonfuls of tea leaves into a strainer and then set the strainer inside a teapot. Turning back around, she laughed at the astonished look on her daughter's face.

"When you fall from grace in the eyes of every one of your acquaintances, you learn to stop living like them," she explained. "After leaving you, I went to live with my sister, as you know. Her husband lost most of his fortune to gambling debts before he died, and she couldn't afford many servants, so I would sometimes help around the house—doing the mending and ironing, cooking some of the meals, that kind of thing. The servants she still had found my attempts very amusing, and eventually, we became friends. They taught me a great deal about life and the sort of people who live in this world, and I found a new appreciation for people who use their skills to provide for themselves."

"And your sister allowed that?" Iris asked, amazed. "She didn't find it undignified of you?"

Her mother shrugged. "I think she knew I needed to be kept busy. And what else was going to distract me? I could hardly spend my days doing needlework, reading, or playing the pianoforte. None of those idle pursuits would have been able to keep me from obsessing over what I'd done to you and your sisters. I needed hard, menial labor so I didn't go mad. Mind you, there were still days when I felt as if I were going to end up in Bedlam. But I always managed to throw myself into my work. And it's useful, knowing how to take care of yourself."

Iris narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

Her mother sighed. "I think if more women knew how to take care of themselves, if they could work and make their own money instead of relying on their husbands' wealth to ensure their comforts, then the world would be a much better place. As it is, women of our social status are held captive by their husbands. We don't know how to survive on our own or how to earn our own money. So, no matter how miserable our marriages are, it is usually impossible to escape."

"You did, though," Iris pointed out.

"Yes, but to do so, I had to learn practical skills and apply myself at a trade, work that most members of the ton would describe as demeaning." Lady Carfield smiled to herself, as if sharing some private joke. "But I never found that kind of work demeaning. In fact, I found it empowering to take care of myself. And I always wished I could have taught you girls how to be self-sufficient. Because I think when we women stick together, and take care of ourselves and each other, we can actually be quite powerful in a world that wants us to be powerless."

The kettle began to make a high-pitched hissing sound, and she used a rag to remove it from the flame, which she then blew out. She poured the water into the teapot, and as the hot liquid covered the tea leaves, a wonderful smell filled the kitchen. Iris closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the scent of bergamot wash over her. Her mother was right, a cup of tea helped.

Lady Carfield located a cup of sugar, took two teacups from the hutch near the table and a bottle of milk from the ice box, and then transferred the teapot to the table. Finally, when the tea was steeping in front of them, she sat down and fixed her daughter with a sharp expression.

"Now," she said firmly, "tell me what is going on with your husband. Is there any truth to his accusation that you are working with your father to bring him down?"

"No!" Iris shouted at once, indignation making her furious. "How can you even ask me that after everything Father has done to all of us?"

"Well, he could have something on you," Lady Carfield pointed out carefully. "Perhaps he's threatening one of your sisters if you don't help him?"

"It's not true," Iris insisted, tears of frustration springing to her eyes. If her own mother wouldn't believe her, how could Phineas? "I would tell you if he was threatening Violet or Rose, and I certainly would have told Phineas. He already helped once, when Father threatened to marry Violet off to Lord Redfield."

"Redfield?!" Her mother looked aghast. "That man is despicable! How could Carfield care so little for our daughters that he was willing to marry Violet off to someone like that?"

"Well, Phineas stopped him, and he made sure all the men of the ton know that my sisters are under his protection. It was… the most noble thing a person has ever done for me."

Iris dropped her head, no longer able to keep the tears at bay. When she had collected herself, she looked back up. Her mother was watching her thoughtfully.

"Father is evil," Iris whispered, "and I would never help him."

"Good, that's what I thought," Lady Carfield said, tutting slightly as she poured them both cups of tea and added milk and sugar. "But you can simply never be too careful when it comes to your father. However, I believe you, so let's move forward. Why does your husband think you're spying on him?"

Iris explained briefly how her father had arranged her marriage by coercion and then tried to get her to spy on Phineas, how she had decided to strike a deal with Phineas instead, and everything that had followed that. Her mother listened closely, nodding along. When Iris was finished, the Viscountess looked impressed.

"I am proud of your industriousness and bravery." Lady Carfield beamed at her. "It makes me happy that even though you were without me, you found ways to fight back against that man."

Iris's heart clenched. Even though she'd forgiven her mother, it still meant more than she could admit to hear her say she was proud of her.

"But considering all this," her mother continued, "I'm surprised His Grace would have such a violent, angry reaction to the break-in. It appears as if you have done everything you can to earn his trust and prove you are on his side."

"Phineas doesn't trust easily, though," Iris explained. "His parents' deaths left him feeling abandoned, I think, and he now believes others will abandon him as well."

"It's not as if they abandoned him on purpose," Lady Carfield said indignantly. "They were murdered."

"He knows that. But when you're at that age, I think the feelings you have about it are not quite reasonable. He is afraid to let himself love because he believes those he loves will leave him in some horrible way or another. So he doesn't trust anyone and is quick to assume the worst about people. And now that he's learned Father murdered his parents, well… I think he's paranoid that Father set all of this up to take me away from him, too, just as he had become close to me."

Lady Carfield's eyes swept over her daughter's face, and she reached out and touched her hand. The gesture was soft and sweet—maternal. "You really care for him, don't you?" she murmured. "The formidable, dangerous Duke of Eavestone. You really love him, don't you?"

"I do," Iris whispered, her throat suddenly clogged with emotion. "I love him more than anything on earth. And now it's too late. He doesn't trust me. In fact, he hates me." Tears began to spill down her cheeks, and she didn't even bother wiping them away. "Father was right in the end—marriage really is pain. Worse than that, he got his way. He married me off to a man who has made me miserable, just not for the reasons he intended."

Lady Carfield took her in her arms, and for a long moment, she let Iris cry against her chest. It was one of the most comforting moments of Iris's life. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried in her mother's arms, and it eased the knot in her chest just a little to feel her mother's arms around her and know she wasn't alone.

Finally, Lady Carfield kissed her forehead and held her at arm's length, looking deep into her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Iris," she whispered. "This is all my fault. If I had just told your husband the truth all those years ago, he could have had Carfield arrested, and none of this would be happening now. But I was afraid… His Grace was only a boy at the time, and even with the evidence, Carfield could have found a way to thwart him.

"And I felt powerless. When someone has made you feel as small and insignificant as your father made me feel, you start to believe them. Even the most confident person in the world couldn't get through years of marriage to a man like that without starting to wonder if they really are as worthless as he says they are. And I was so young when I married your father, so impressionable…"

She hung her head, and Iris patted her hand in what she hoped was a comforting manner.

It was frightening to think of her mother being bullied by her father, and Iris tried to take a deep breath and calm herself. At least she was no longer crying. Her old instinct for strength and preservation was kicking in, and a determination she hadn't felt before was starting to flood her.

From nowhere, she remembered her father's promise that he would take them down, that he would break them. Perhaps it had been his plan all along to sow discord between her and Phineas. Well, if it had been, then he had succeeded. At least for now. But there was still fight left in Iris.

"What's done is done," Iris stated, with more determination than she had felt even moments before. Her mother looked up at her, her gaze curious. "What we need to figure out now is how to help Phineas bring Father down. Because Phineas is no longer a boy, and I know he is smart enough and strong enough to thwart our Father. What he needs, what we can help him with, is evidence."

Her mother blinked, then shook her head. "But the evidence is gone…"

"It's not gone," Iris insisted. Her brain had begun to whir, and she was thinking hard. "Father has it. And I am willing to bet anything that he has it in the safe where you found the letter between him and the murderer he hired."

"But how can we get into the safe? Lord Carfield has surely moved the key, after all these years. And you're not allowed on his property."

"I'm not sure yet." Iris held up a hand as a thought occurred to her. "What was it that Phineas said? That I must have been spying on him because Father knew we were at the mines?"

"Yes…" her mother said slowly. "He seemed to think Carfield had arrived too quickly at the mines to have been told of your presence by someone who had to send the information all the way to London. He was convinced Carfield would have had to learn where you were going ahead of time."

"And he thought perhaps I'd told Violet and Rose by accident, but I didn't. I knew better than to mention anything to them, in case Father forced it out of them."

Her mother's eyebrows knit together. "Who might have told him, then?"

Iris considered this. There were several people who had known they were going to the mines, namely the butler and the groomsmen, who had been required to prepare the carriage and horses. Other than that, it was only Phineas's valet… But Phineas would have vetted his staff. He would be entirely sure that none of them were spying for her father. Anyway, why would Lord Carfield have needed Iris to spy on Phineas if he already had a man on the inside?

Unless…

Unless it wasn't Iris he wanted to spy for him. Unless Iris was the decoy, the distraction from the real spy, who would have arrived with Iris right underneath Phineas's nose.

Iris looked up at her mother, her mouth hanging open. "We need to talk to Anna, right now."

It didn't take Anna very long to confess.

Iris and Lady Carfield found her upstairs in the guest bedroom Iris had insisted she rest in. When they came in, she was drinking the sherry they'd brought her earlier and staring vacantly at the ceiling.

The moment Iris walked through the door, a blazing look on her face, her lady's maid burst into tears.

"I've wanted to tell you for ages and ages," Anna sobbed not ten minutes later as she sat on the edge of the bed, a handkerchief pressed to her face so that she wouldn't have to make eye contact with her mistress. "There were so many times I almost told you, Your Grace—you have to believe me."

"I'm not angry, Anna," Iris sighed, although she couldn't promise that her husband wouldn't be. "I simply want to know why you did it."

Anna looked up. Her face was blotchy, her eyes were bloodshot, and her cheeks were swollen from crying. Tears were still streaming down her face, but she managed to brush them away before she spoke again.

"It's my brother," she explained. "He's very sick. And I can't afford the hospital bills. Your father offered me money if I just brought him information on how the marriage was going, if you and His Grace seemed to like one another. I didn't understand the need for it, but I didn't understand the harm in it either. Of course, coming from His Lordship, I suspected it wasn't a good reason, but I couldn't fathom what it might be. And then he started demanding more and more information, and suddenly I was in over my head."

"But if it was money you needed, why didn't you come to the Duke and me?" Iris asked, unable to keep some of the astonishment from her voice. "You know that His Grace is a wealthy man, and I believe I have always been generous to you."

"I wanted to, but…." Anna's eyes filled with tears again. "His Lordship said that if I told anyone, he'd make sure my brother suffered an accident in the hospital. I was s-scared, Your Grace. His Lordship has always been a frightening man, and… I didn't know what to do."

"I understand," Lady Carfield said, laying a comforting hand on the maid's shoulder. "I felt the exact same way. Lord Carfield has always used his power to intimidate and get his way—against all those he opposes, but especially women, whom Society has already rendered so powerless. It isn't your fault that he did the same thing to you."

Anna nodded, and then her eyes flicked to Iris's. "I'd do anything to help you, Your Grace. Anything at all. I've looked after you since you were a little girl, and I care for you very much. I never meant for any harm to come to you."

"I know that," Iris said. She gave her maid a reassuring smile. "And I don't blame you. As long as you work with us to take down my father."

"Of course," Anna whispered. "I'll do anything in my power, even if I have none."

Iris looked at her mother, her words from earlier ringing in her ears. "Even us women can have power," she murmured, "if we work together."