Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“ A nother sister!” Scarlett’s hand flew to her chest. “Is she…?” She hardly knew what to ask first.

“We know nothing about her,” Lord Tipton said. “Mrs Dobbins was not involved in the care of the infants—they were tended elsewhere, it seems. The will is the first that we knew of the girl, and it seems likely that she was only very recently born at the time it was written. She is not even named, just referred to as a Female Child.”

Somehow that made Scarlett ache a bit, the poor little dear whose only identifier was Female Child. “We must find her,” she blurted. “I hope nothing terrible has come of her.”

“We came directly from Oxfordshire to here,” Lord Tipton replied. “Once I am in London, I intend to hire someone to look into matters more thoroughly.”

With that Scarlett knew she must be satisfied. Another sister! She could scarce believe it. She glanced around her at the sparsely furnished, minimally decorated room that was really the only drawing room she had ever known. It felt an apt metaphor of her life until now, barely populated, uncomfortable, and drab, a direct contrast to the life ahead which would be filled with people—these people—with comfort and colour and light in abundance.

“Miss Scarlett?” Mrs Hobson had entered and beckoned from the doorway.

Scarlett rose and went to her, and the two ladies stepped into the hall.

“Will the gentlemen be dining with us?”

“Oh.” Foolishly, Scarlett had not considered those questions; she had considered the future but not the immediate future. “Yes, I daresay they will. Oh!” She put one hand to her head, wincing. “Do we have something more…something like what they usually eat?”

Mrs Hobson nodded. “I sent a note to the Leightons begging the assistance of their cook, and they were happy to oblige.”

Scarlett nodded and thanked her and then turned to go back into the drawing room. The immediate future—the notion weighed upon her mind. What was her immediate future? Would she leave the parsonage straightaway? Was the reverend’s permission required?

Her invitation to dine was accepted with alacrity after which Worthe rose and invited her to take a walk with him. “Perhaps you have some favoured haunts to show me?” he asked.

“One or two,” she said with a smile.

“And I shall be the chaperon,” Oakley said confidently. “I suspect my tenure as Scarlett’s guardian might be short, but I shall pursue it no less enthusiastically for it.”

“We will remain in the garden,” Worthe said with a severe look in Oakley’s direction. “No chaperon is required.”

“Just see that you keep your hands where I can see them, young man,” Oakley teased. “I would not like calling you out to be among my first guardian duties.”

Worthe rolled his eyes as Scarlett giggled and went to get her bonnet. It was likely that Worthe was vexed by Oakley, but she enjoyed his manners. It was a wonderful thing to have an elder brother who cared for you, even if you had only just met.

The parsonage garden, like every other place, was a utilitarian sort of place. There were rows of fledgling beans and potatoes, asparagus, artichokes, and onions edged in by a few apple and cherry trees. The apple and cherry trees had alas passed their floral stage, and as such, there was really nothing of beauty to look at, though she led him towards them regardless. The reverend simply did not see the point of flowers; if it could be eaten, they grew it, and if they grew it in greater abundance than was needed, it was given to the poor of the district. She supposed there was some virtue in that.

“You must be feeling very peculiar,” Worthe said as they reached the trees, startling her from her thoughts.

She must have looked questioning when she turned to him, for he elaborated on his statement. “You are gathering additional family members with every passing day.”

“That is true,” she said. “I find it rather thrilling.”

He stepped towards her and extended his hands, offering them to her. She gladly placed her hands within his as he said quietly, “I find you thrilling.”

“I find you thrilling, too,” she whispered as he gently tugged her close.

“I want to ask you to marry me,” he said. “I want to be engaged to you right now and plan a wedding that will happen before the week is out, but I fear…”

“You fear that…I would wish to remain in Stanbridge under the power of a madman?” she teased gently. “Or fear I should prefer to strike out on my own, be someone’s governess, perhaps?”

He shook his head at her, pressing his lips together. “Silly girl. No, I only meant to say that I fear overwhelming you. Your life is already in turmoil, and I would never wish to add greater uncertainty.”

“How could you?” she asked. “Through all of it you have been so good, so steady?—”

“Except for when?— ”

“Yes, except for when ill advice sent you awry. But even in those few days, you were doing what you believed I needed. My life is in utter disarray, it is true, but I can think of no better way to get through it than with the man I have come to love beside me.”

Worthe took one finger and traced it down her cheek. “Do you love me, dear Scarlett?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “More than anything. More than I ever could have imagined.”

“As I love you. Far, far more than anything I ever imagined possible.” She watched him draw a deep breath. “Will you, my dearest Scarlett, consent to be my wife?”

Happy tears filled her eyes and she laughed as she said, “Yes. Yes, I shall.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a pleasurable blur. Oakley and her uncle must have been well aware of Worthe’s intentions and could not have doubted the outcome when the couple returned from their time beneath the apple tree. Scarlett’s face nearly ached from smiling, and they had tarried for a considerable length of time—kissing, yes, but also speaking all the silly nothings that lovers speak of to affirm their ardour to one another.

At dinner, some hours later, the subject of the wedding, and when they might like to have it, was broached. “I am travelling tomorrow,” Worthe told the table with a smile, “but the day after, I am available.”

“I should warn you that Adelaide has exhibited somewhat modest tastes for her own celebration,” said Lord Tipton. “And I do not doubt that Lady Tipton would like more of a society affair for the next she helps plan.”

“So that would be mine?” Scarlett asked with a smile.

“Unless we can find our baby sister and she happens to be engaged, then yes, Scarlett, it will be to you to allow her ladyship her due.” Oakley forked an enormous bite of fish into his mouth. They had all proclaimed the food delicious, which was a kindness, Scarlett suspected. The parsonage was accustomed to bland food in small amounts, although Mrs Hobson, along with the Leightons’ cook, had done her best with the evening’s menu.

“Mayhap Oakley happens to have a clandestine engagement he would like to tell us about,” Lord Tipton remarked drily.

At this Oakley visibly sagged, with what Scarlett perceived to be true distress on his countenance, but Worthe and her uncle both laughed. “Cheer up, old man,” Worthe said. “You will find a new ladylove next week, I am sure.”

Oakley replied to this with some gesture beneath the table that was hidden from Scarlett but heartily enjoyed by Worthe, who laughed more heartily and added, “Can you deny it?”

It was into this comfortably jovial scene that the reverend intruded.

“Well Scarlett, I had not imagined you to be entertaining men alone the first time I set foot out of the house,” he said sternly, his gimlet eye roving reprovingly over the meal on the table. “London has changed you, it seems.”

“I am hardly entertaining—” she began, but she was stopped by Worthe.

“You have slandered Scarlett quite enough,” he said quietly, rising from the table. “She is here among her relations and me, her betrothed. You can have nothing to say to impugn her honour.”

“Her betrothed?” The reverend chuckled mirthlessly. “Her relations? I thought I had?—”

“Lied to us?” Lord Tipton very deliberately laid his napkin beside his plate and rose. “Sir, I regret to say it is no longer within my capabilities to endure your nonsense. I have in my possession as much proof as is required to determine that Scarlett is unequivocally Miss Richmond and has been left to my guardianship by her father’s will.”

In the driest, most professorial language Scarlett had ever known, Lord Tipton very thoroughly laid out the case of why Reverend Margrave had no claim on her and the Richmond family did. She did not wholly understand some of it—words like apprenticed arrangement , testamentary custodian , or socage meant nothing to her—but it was impressive nevertheless. The reverend tried several times to interrupt, but each time he did, Lord Tipton only paused, his nose slightly raised, until the man subsided, and then continued exactly from the point where he had been interrupted.

When the second letter was mentioned, the reverend began at once to protest. “The girl obviously wrote it herself! She has proved to be a practised?—”

“Before you impugn yourself, or slander Miss Richmond , further,” Lord Tipton interceded with an arresting degree of hauteur, “Mrs Dobbins, neé Blythe, not only recollects the second plea but is fully prepared to lend her testimony to it.”

Scarlett thought that could not possibly be true, for she had only just told the men of the second letter herself on their arrival, but the reverend seemed to accept it and thus so would she.

“Lastly, I must inform you, Reverend, that your bishop happens to be a dear friend of mine. We were at Oxford together, and he was most obliging in calling you forth on some business when I asked it of him.”

This appeared to be quite a surprise to the reverend, to know he had been so easily manipulated.

“He is a genial man, as I am sure you know, but I do not think he would look kindly on any parson under his authority who had abducted a young lady from the home of her friends.”

“Abducted!” the reverend sputtered. “I did no such?—”

“What do you call it,” Lord Tipton asked, “when a man falsely represents himself and abuses his authority over a young woman? And right in front of peers of the realm? I assure you, sir, if presented to the courts, they would very much see it my way.”

“Very well, then,” the reverend said, drawing himself up. He looked like he had but one card left to play and had resolved to playing it. “You wish to tell me my years of diligent care and education of her has been nothing more than apprenticeship? Then the matter of compensation must be discussed for the sums that I have invested?—”

This time he was interrupted by Worthe who removed a purse from his jacket, and from that purse a roll of banknotes. He all but threw it at the reverend who reached for it but only hit it with his hand and caused it to drop to the floor. It was satisfying to Scarlett to see him have to bend down and retrieve it.

“Paid in full,” Worthe said through gritted teeth. “And then some.”

“Worthe!” Scarlett exclaimed in dismay, but he gave a small yet definite shake of his head that told her he would brook no opposition in the matter.

Mrs Hobson entered the room and beckoned. “Miss Richmond? ”

Scarlett went to her, and slipped out into the hall, taking the lady’s hands which felt very cold. “What is it?”

“I had some of your things packed and put into Lord Tipton’s carriage,” she whispered, likely not wishing to be overheard by those within the dining room. “It seems it is time for you to go home.”