Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

S carlett found herself rising to better see the lady before her. She breathed the lady’s name, knowing with one look exactly who she was.

“Adelaide.”

Scarlett never could have expected to feel the way she did. Everything she had always felt, the hollow sense of needing something or someone, or of loneliness, evaporated immediately. This lady was whom she had been missing—Adelaide, her sister, her twin sister.

Adelaide walked over slowly, her eyes on Scarlett, who was only dimly aware of the eyes of the rest of the room upon them as Adelaide pushed into the small space between Lord Oakley and herself on the sofa.

“Hell’s bells,” she said, her voice a whisper. “Lord Worthe said you looked like me, but you are?—”

“Your twin,” Scarlett finished for her.

“Smile for me,” Adelaide demanded. Scarlett obeyed her and Adelaide observed, “The left side is just slightly?—”

“Higher,” Scarlett agreed. “Yours?”

“Mine’s on the right. My hair—” Adelaide pulled back the curls at her temples revealing a slight cowlick on the right side.

“On the left.”

“You are thinner.”

“You are paler.”

Adelaide reached out her right hand to take Scarlett’s as they continued to examine one another, each observation being made with great interest.

“So strange,” Adelaide began absently, “but I almost feel like somewhere in my heart I already know you.”

“I feel like some part of me knew you existed, but I was not wholly aware of it,” Scarlett agreed.

“Something was missing, but I did not know what it was.”

“I always believed myself to be just naturally…discontent.”

“And now I feel so happy and yet?—”

“’Tis like a peaceful joy,” Scarlett declared.

“My meaning exactly!”

“I am happy too,” Oakley said, tapping Adelaide on the shoulder and gesturing to her to sit back.

She laughed and sat back on the sofa, releasing Scarlett’s hand as she did. “Extraordinary, is it not?”

“It certainly is.” The voice, a gentleman’s, came from the doorway. For some reason it made Scarlett jump guiltily, like she had been up to no good.

A couple stood in the doorway, a handsome pair. Lady Leighton immediately rose and went to the lady, exclaiming, “Lady Tipton! How very good to see you!”

Oddly, Scarlett felt a pang of nervousness beholding the gentleman, Lord Tipton she presumed, though he smiled and appeared to be genial enough to Lady Leighton.

Lady Tipton came and sat in the chair next to where Bess had been seated with her mother. Lady Leighton resumed her seat, and Lord Tipton came and loomed over the sofa. “Oakley, you are amassing quite a collection of these things.”

“Things?” Oakley laughed. “You mean sis—cousins!”

“Cousins.” The gentleman nodded, although the firmness with which he said it made Scarlett curious. Still speaking to Lord Oakley, he said, “This is the young lady whom Worthe spoke of?”

“Scarlett,” said Lord Oakley with a fond smile that belied their excessively short acquaintance. “Discovered at an assembly in Luton.”

Lord Tipton continued to study her, so Scarlett added, “Miss Scarlett Margrave, sir.”

“It seems I am your uncle,” he said with a grave nod. “And Miss Scarlett Margrave hails from Luton?”

“From Stanbridge,” she said. “Reverend Margrave, um, the man who adopted me holds the living in Stanbridge. ”

“And Mrs Margrave? I presume there is a Mrs Margrave?”

“Yes, sir. I mean, there was, my lord.” Scarlett felt so clumsy and hoped they would not think her a hopeless bumpkin. Manners had been important to her mother, and her etiquette, while little used, was generally good. She took a breath and tried to sound more polished. “My mother died when I was younger. My adoptive mother, that is.”

“Mrs Margrave was a Welsh woman,” Lady Leighton interjected. “ Her father held a living near Erddig, I believe.”

It was more than Scarlett had known, and she gave Lady Leighton a grateful nod.

“A Welsh woman…” Lord Tipton nodded thoughtfully. He then began to ask Scarlett questions about her education and accomplishments. She had no idea if the answers she gave satisfied him—that she spoke passable French, could read German and Italian, drew and painted well, played the pianoforte dreadfully but had been told her voice was exceptional—but Lady Tipton seemed happy.

“She will fit in far easier than I did,” Adelaide announced when the examination was through. “And in any case, no matter where she began, we cannot doubt Scarlett’s belonging to us now, can we? Just look at us!”

Though she said it very amiably, it could not be denied that there was a protective undercurrent in her tone. Scarlett smiled at her, feeling a flush of pleasure suffuse her.

“I confess, although I did not doubt Worthe’s word, seeing the pair of you sitting there…” Lord Tipton shook his head. “No, one cannot doubt the relationship.”

“Just wait until we show you our grandmother’s portrait at Chiltern Court,” Lord Oakley declared. “You and Adelaide are her very likeness.”

“Chiltern Court?” Scarlett asked.

“The family seat,” Lady Tipton told her. “We go in June, so Grandmama’s portrait will need to wait until then.”

There seemed to be, surprisingly, some immediate assumption that she would go with them. Would she? Scarlett realised suddenly that she had formed no plan for what came after she found her family; only that she had hoped to find them. What would come next had never entered into her imaginings.

“So you stole Worthe’s heart in Luton…” Oakley began.

“Oh, I do not know about stealing anyone’s heart,” Scarlett demurred, feeling fire engulfing her face.

“You have not had the benefit of being in my billiard room these past days,” said Lady Tipton with a knowing smile.

“We shall have two weddings in the offing before we know it!” Oakley exclaimed.

“Oh, you men!” Adelaide turned to Scarlett. “He has only just found us and yet can scarcely know us a moment before he wishes to dump us into some husband’s lap.”

“Hey!” Kem protested with a grin that let Scarlett know none of this was serious. “Some husband, eh? Is that all I am to be?”

“I assure you I mean to do no such thing,” Oakley said, his boyish enthusiasm equally charming in its seriousness. “Only that Worthe so rarely takes to a lady, much less to the point of speaking of her to his friends!”

Lord Kemerton murmured something that sounded like agreement.

“There might be any number of suitors Scarlett wishes to consider,” Lady Tipton said. “It should not be considered such a settled thing with Worthe, although you know I do very much like the boy.”

“Worthe did not seem to think we would see you in London,” Lord Kemerton said.

“Have you ever had a proper Season?” asked Lady Tipton.

“No,” Scarlett replied. “In fact, I…I thought I was just eighteen.”

“You did?” Adelaide exclaimed. “Why did your parents not tell you your right age?”

“They did not tell me anything about the adoption, nor that they counted my age from the year of my adoption. I learnt of it only recently and saw a letter, written to the reverend from Princess Caroline’s Home for Unfortunate Waifs, that spoke of me as a two-year-old child. ”

“They never told you?” Lady Tipton looked over at Lady Leighton who shook her head vigorously in reply.

“From Princess Caroline’s Home—” Oakley began.

“It was shocking, I shall admit, but it did make me determined to come and see, although I confess…” Scarlett looked round the room at all the faces. “I did not truly expect to find anyone, and certainly not so quickly.”

She decided not to include the bit about walking to Dunstable or the reverend’s belief she would have enough rope to hang herself. It did not seem necessary.

Lord Tipton ran a hand over his face. “This is likely a great deal for you to consider, then.”

“Consider?” Adelaide looked indignant. “What is there to consider? She is not a Miss Margrave, she is a Miss Richmond and she belongs here with us—with me!”

Though Scarlett had said nothing to disparage the reverend, or to criticise the manner in which she had been raised, her reticence must have lent some clue to the others. Lord Tipton watched her carefully as he said, “Adelaide, something tells me it might not be as simple as all that.”

Scarlett’s eyes moved again over the occupants of the room, seeing her…uncle? Her aunt? She had never known any such people in her life before. Her cousin Oakley, so friendly and agreeable, and behind him, Bess and Lady Leighton, persons dear to her since before she even knew, who had been dragged into this family ma tter quite against their own plans. Her breathing began to accelerate as she realised she had not the least idea what to do now, what even to think of it all.

“If nothing else, you must agree to stand up with me at my wedding!” Adelaide’s eyes lit as she again squeezed Scarlett’s hand. “Who else could it be but my dearest sister!”

“Your only sister, or the only one we know of,” Lord Tipton said in a faintly grumbling tone. “An untold quantity might present themselves between then and now.”

“Scarlett is welcome to stay with us as long as she wishes,” Lady Leighton quickly inserted. “We are fixed here until the middle of June ourselves.”

“Delightful news,” Oakley said, and Scarlett noticed that his eyes lingered just a little on Bess when he said it. She hid a smile at that. Poor Mr Beamish.

“Is the reverend permitting you to remain in town with the Leightons?” Lord Tipton probed, still with that same, searching gaze on her.

“Oh! Well, in truth…” Scarlett swallowed. “I cannot rightly say.”