Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“ I do not think the reverend believed I would even have success in arriving in London,” Scarlett explained. “Much less in finding any of my family.”

A small group comprised of Adelaide, Lord Tipton, and Oakley had convened in his lordship’s book room, an elegant room full of more books than Scarlett could ever imagine reading. Lord Tipton had summoned them all there so they might speak more freely—presumably having noticed Scarlett’s reluctance—and leaving the others behind in the drawing room to continue their own conversations.

“Why do you always call him the reverend?” Adelaide asked. She had, again, taken Scarlett’s hand when they sat. Scarlett found it very consoling.

“I think he preferred it. My mother always called him ‘the reverend’, never my dear or anything of that sort.” Scarlett tilted her head while she thought of it, then said, “I have called him Father on occasion, but most times he just seems more like a reverend than a father.”

“Is he a brute?” Adelaide asked frankly.

“No, no.” No one in the room seemed persuaded by her quick demurral so she added, “In learning of the circumstances of my adoption, I have come to understand him better.”

“How so?” asked Oakley. When Adelaide and Scarlett had claimed a small sofa, Oakley, rather than take the nearest chair, had chosen to perch on the arm of it.

“It was not a wish for a child that induced them to accept me. They were persuaded to do it out of Christian duty once the orphanage burnt down. They never precisely made me feel unwanted, but neither did I ever really feel at home.” Scarlett shot an uncertain smile at the others in the room. “I understand now why I was rarely permitted out of the nursery when I was a child, and why even in my own bedchamber I was not permitted to put anything of my own choosing about.”

“I am surprised,” Lord Tipton said, “that he has not married you off already.”

Scarlett frowned a moment, glancing down to where hers and Adelaide’s hands were joined.

“Because he needs you?” Adelaide guessed. “If your mother has died, then I suppose it is to you to be the lady of the parish—am I right in thinking so?”

Scarlett nodded. “He did not wish me to come here, but we had an argument where I said I wished to know who my people were. He laughed and told me no one had ever looked for me, and would have no wish to know me?—”

“In fact,” Oakley interrupted, “we were unaware of your existence. Even after we found Adelaide, it was unclear whether she had other sisters somewhere else.”

Scarlett gave him a grateful smile. “In any case, as I left the room, he said he was giving me rope enough to hang myself. So I walked to Dunstable and caught the mail stage to St Albans, but once I was there, I found I could go no farther that day as I had missed the last mail stage and did not have money enough for anything else. I am afraid that had Lord Worthe not come upon me as he did…then the reverend would likely have proved correct. I was just trying to decide whether walking back to Stanbridge or spending the night sleeping on the bench at the inn would be worse when Lord Worthe arrived.”

Oakley gave a little snort of laughter. “Regular knight in shining armour, then. I cannot wait to tease him with it.”

“He saved your sister,” Lord Tipton admonished mildly. “I daresay we can find other things to tease him with.”

There was a brief silence in the room which Lord Tipton broke by clearing his throat and saying, “Well then. It seems you ought to know all the family secrets, Scarlett, beginning with the fact that Oakley is not your cousin but your brother.”

Oakley beamed with such delight that it was infectious, but Scarlett quickly turned her attention back to Lord Tipton.

“I was the eldest of three brothers. When my youngest brother Robert ran off, our father cut him off without a farthing to his name, and we were ordered to never recognise any connection to him ever again. I am sad to say I obeyed the order, though I must say I never did agree with it.”

Lord Tipton began to pace slowly as he continued his tale. “Alas, my other brother, Damian, has turned out very wild. He always had a bit of a rebellious streak growing up, but time in the army, rather than settling him, made him positively dangerous. If he manages to earn a pound, he gambles away two. I have long known that once I was the earl, to father a son, and keep the Tipton earldom from Damian’s control, was imperative.

“Alas, as the years went on, my wife found herself unable to bear a child. The doctor we consulted believed another miscarriage would likely kill her. It grieved us both, for we both dearly had wished for children and, furthermore, required an heir for the estate and the earldom. Alas, it seemed there was nothing for it but to content ourselves with our lot—until one day we received an interesting letter.

“My father had recently passed away, and I had ascended to his title. Shortly thereafter, I had a letter from an orphanage in Harrowsford telling me that my youngest brother Robert, and his wife, had died and that their young son had been left in their care. ”

“How sad,” Scarlett said feelingly. “That must have been so difficult for you, to have so much bad news at once.”

“Thank you; it was.” He smiled faintly as he dipped his head slightly. “In any case, I sent my man Linford to see to the matter, and he returned without any report of any additional Richmond children—or so we believe. In retrospect, it is entirely possible that he only looked to see if Oakley had any brothers.”

“Had the orphanage already burnt down at that time?” Scarlett asked.

“It was only the girls’ building that was destroyed by the fire,” Oakley explained. “The boys’ dormitory was intact, so finding me, and discerning that I had no brothers, was a far easier task.”

“Linford has since died, so we shall never determine what he did and did not look for in Harrowsford. I take the responsibility on myself—I ought not to have presumed. Had I any idea of young ladies left behind to the care of others, I would have looked for you. I would never have wished to deny either of you your rightful place,” Lord Tipton said.

Scarlett found herself relieved to hear him say so. To find herself in another situation, another family, where her presence was only grudgingly tolerated would have been distressing. Unless she was mistaken, Adelaide looked rather moved by the sentiment also.

“But pray do keep your silence on the matter,” Oakley said. “It would not do for our uncle Damian to learn of this now, not when it has been successfully hidden these many years.”

Scarlett nodded, then turned her attention back to the earl. “I do hope that, old hurts notwithstanding, you would deem to tell me sometime all you know of my father and mother. Robert and…?”

“Susan,” Adelaide supplied. “Robert and Susan Richmond. Our mother and father.”