Chapter Thirteen

Clarissa rushed forward and jostled the overly protective butler out of the way. "Did you say Captain Richard Harding?"

The middle-aged man turned his attention to her. "I did." He was only a little taller than her. With his face tanned to a deep brown, he looked as though he had spent his life outdoors. Despite this, he was still handsome.

"Then you're my father!"

Recognition dawned on his face, followed by shocked delight. "If you are Miss Clarissa Bartlett, then I believe I am." His smile lit his blue–green eyes. Her eyes.

She threw herself into his arms to hug him. She savored the feel of his arms around her as they clung to each other. She had waited so long for this moment.

Too soon he drew back to look at her again. "You look so much like Mary, your mother."

"So my aunt has told me, but I've never seen an image of her."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a miniature painting. "This is her. I've carried it on me every day since it was painted."

From the small frame peered the image of a young woman dressed in the fashion popular before Clarissa was born. Long auburn hair flowed around her shoulders and Clarissa recognized her own face smiling at her.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't able to find you before now. The admiralty offices gave me all the contact addresses you left for me. This was the last on the list."

"I'm so glad you persisted in tracking me down."

"I tried many times to find your mother. Then five years ago I received a lost letter from Mary telling me she was expecting you. It wasn't until my last return to London that I tracked you to the orphanage through an old landlady of your mother's. That was after I found your aunt and she swore to me that you hadn't survived the birth." His expression darkened.

"She lied to you and to me." Clarissa's voice trembled with anger at her aunt's actions.

Lord Dalton arrived in the foyer and ordered his butler to show his guests into his library.

Behind Clarissa, the butler coughed.

She released her father, and drew him into the house. The butler led them to a ground floor room at the rear of the house.

Once inside, Francis introduced himself to the captain. "I'm Clarissa's husband, Reverend Francis Brody."

They gave each other assessing looks then smiled before shaking hands. Both followed Clarissa to a cluster of seats before a bright fire.

She took the sofa in front of the cozy hearth. Francis sat beside her while the captain took a chair opposite.

"We've been searching for you. When did you arrive in London? Where have you been? Are you staying for long?" She had so many questions for him.

He looked happy, perplexed, overwhelmed. "I've just returned to port after a long sojourn at sea. I expect to be living in London for the foreseeable future."

He was another reason for Clarissa to remain in London. Her longing to spend time getting to know him was like a raging thirst. She wanted to know everything about him and how he had met her mother. She yearned for that story, hoping it was the great romance she had dreamed of as a child.

"How did you meet my mother?"

"Ah." His eyes took on a faraway look. "She was acting at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. I saw her on stage and couldn't take my eyes off her."

Frank chuckled beside her. "It was the same for me when I first saw Clarissa," he said, a small smile on his face and his voice full of warmth.

"Aye, they have that effect on a man," her father concurred. "So, I went backstage and to my absolute surprise, she was as taken with me as I was with her. Her sister didn't like that. Dora felt that your mother should be concentrating on her career and finding a wealthy patron, not some almost penniless captain in the British navy."

"So my mother didn't listen to her?"

"She didn't take a blind bit of notice of her sister. We had the banns called a month after we met, but I was called back to my ship a week later without notice. I had to leave immediately for Portsmouth." The captain paused.

Clarissa leaned forward eager for more of her parents' history.

He continued his account, a small frown furrowing his forehead. "This was the height of the war with the French republic, you mind. I promised to marry her as soon as I returned to England. God alone knew when that would be though, and it was more than two years later. By then she was dead and buried in a pauper's grave and you were gone to that orphanage, although I didn't know about that at all."

"What would you have done, if you had known of me?" Clarissa asked. Her heart raced as she waited for the answer.

"I would have got you out of there and placed you in my family's care to raise. They would have seen you right." His voice held absolute certainty.

Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of being raised within a family…her own family. Francis's arm came around her. His warm hand on her waist comforted her.

"How did you learn of my existence?" The mystery of how he began his quest for her had plagued her mind since she learned of it.

"We docked in Gibraltar five years ago. "A letter from your mother was there. She was so happy to be expecting our baby. She loved you already, Clarissa, so much. The letter had been lying there for over fifteen years, because it had gotten mixed up with the letters for another ship of a similar name, gone onboard, and returned several times."

Clarissa gasped. Such a small mistake had caused so much pain in their lives.

"Once I returned to England again, I searched for your aunt, but she must have left London. I went to your mother's previous lodgings, but there was a new landlady. On a later shore leave, I tracked down your aunt, who told me of your mother's death and claimed her baby had died too.

Finally, I found the landlady I remembered and she told me you hadn't died but had been place in an orphanage. She didn't know which one. Then I searched at every orphanage in London for a child born to Mary Bartlett. Eventually I found the Duke Street Orphanage, but you were gone with your aunt and I didn't know where to look next. By then it was time to return to my ship and leave again."

Evidence of Dora's duplicity squeezed her heart again. A tear slid down Clarissa's cheek. "Well, you've found me now. I was looking for you too."

His face shone with hope at that. "I'm glad we've finally found each other. There's so much of our lives to catch up on." He turned to Francis. "If you will allow that, Reverend Brody?"

"Of course, you must, although I will have little say in the matter."

Her father looked confused.

"I'm leaving London for Hampshire soon to take up a living there."

"Congratulations! But won't Clarissa be accompanying you?"

"Not at the first," Clarissa answered for Francis.

Francis looked like he might say more but firmly closed his mouth.

"Tell me about your family? Is it a large? How many siblings do you have? I've always wanted a sister, so I think it would be wonderful to have cousins." Her words spilled out in a rush.

Her father laughed. "It is a large family. My father is a baronet with an estate in Norfolk. I have six older brothers and sisters…all married with children. My mother keeps busy visiting their homes and her many grandchildren. Twenty and counting, I believe."

Her eyes widened. My goodness, I have so many relations, and my grandfather is a baronet! " Will I be able to meet them?"

"I can't see why not," her father said. "At a time that suits your husband, of course," he deferred to Francis.

"I make no call on Clarissa's time. It is her own to do with as she pleases." The slight undertone of tartness told her he had accepted they must part and return to the original terms of their marriage of convenience.

Clarissa heart shriveled inside her chest. Although he was granting her what she wished, his willingness to separate from her still hurt more than she'd expected.

Captain Harding seemed taken aback by Francis's words. "That's very liberal of you, Reverend. I thank you."

Francis inclined his head.

"Well, if that's the case, why don't you stay with me, Clarissa, when Francis goes into Hampshire?" her father asked. "I'm retiring on my prize money and have leased a house in Soho. Then your husband will know that you are safe in his absence."

Surprise and eagerness filled her. "Could I?" she replied and looked at Francis for his opinion.

"That sounds like the perfect solution," Francis said. To her father he added, "That would indeed make me far more comfortable leaving Clarissa in London. She could, of course, stay here with my older sister or with my other sisters, who operate a school in Harley Street." Francis's face had lost some of the lines of concern it had worn most of the evening. "That way, I won't worry endlessly about you being unprotected," Francis told her. The look remaining on his face she could only describe as stricken.

"My home is at your disposal, Clarissa. And if you decide to live elsewhere, you are welcome to visit me at any time," her father added. "And I hope you will."

Too soon, her father remembered a social commitment at his club and had to leave to fulfil it. All three departed together in a hackney. "Will you call on me tomorrow?" he asked when they arrived at Francis's lodgings, before her father continued on to his club.

She promised to spend time with him the next day.

The decision about her future seemed perfectly clear. She could not leave London now! Even though that meant parting from Francis.

Her heart ached at the thought of being separated from him. Just when she had found him. She loved him.

But she loved her career also and was desperate for greater success. It was as well she had not revealed the full extent of her feelings for him. Then he might not let her go.

If only there was a solution to this impasse.

And now her father was here in London and she finally had the chance to get to know him. And to meet his family… her family . How could she walk away from that wonderful opportunity?

But how could she be happy without Francis?

She was so torn by her choices.

***

Back at Francis's rooms after leaving her father, Clarissa warmed her hands in front of the refreshed fire. Francis silently prepared a pot of tea. He had hardly spoken since alighting from the hackney and he hadn't once looked her in the face.

She placed a hand on his arm, waiting until his eyes met hers. "Frank, we need to talk."

"Is there anything more we need to talk about? You must stay in London and I must go to Hampshire to take up the living."

Her stomach sank at his decisive words. He didn't see a resolution that would keep them together. "When would you need to leave?"

"Immediately, now that Reverend Ramsdown has retired, so there is no suspension of services and pastoral care."

Her throat clogged with emotion. "Tomorrow?"

"No, but very soon. I'm sure Jonathan will let me know sometime tomorrow. I should have asked him."

The thought of losing him so soon, chilled her. To occupy her hands, she poured the steeped tea.

"What about us? Nothing is decided between us about our future."

"As we must part soon, I think it best we return to our marriage of convenience." His face held a determined but sad look.

"Can we not share one last night together?" She yearned to hold him again and make passionate love again now that their separation was imminent.

Francis blanched. "I would be better if we did not—so there is less disruption when we must part."

Her heart ached as though it was being crushed in a vise. He couldn't love her in the same way that she loved him. She had begun to think that he did.

"Why don't you take your tea into the bedchamber. I will tidy away the tea things and lay out my bedding. I will not disturb you again."

"But Frank, won't you join me?"

"It's better this way." His face resembled an expressionless mask bought for a public masquerade.

Where had this coldness come from? It was not like Frank to show no compassion.

"I think you're right." With her heart cracking in her chest, Clarissa lifted her teacup and forced herself to walk through the bedchamber doorway. As she closed the door a sob rose from her chest. She battled it down. She would not give in to such weak behavior or give up.

***

The next morning, at far too early an hour for polite visiting, Clarissa lifted a trembling hand and rapped the door knocker at Dalton House. Was she making a mistake in coming here? Surely Jane would talk with her? Or would she show me the door now that Francis and I appear to have separated.

The haughty butler did not slam the door in her face. Instead, he invited her inside, took her bonnet and coat and showed her into a small room off the foyer, to wait while he enquired whether her ladyship was available.

He returned within a few minutes and escorted her upstairs to a small sitting room that let in feeble winter sunshine through a bank of south-facing windows. A perfect place to spend a dull winter's day.

The marchioness rose from a small writing table and hurried forward to greet her. "How lovely to see you again so soon," she said as she leaned forward to kiss Clarissa's cheek.

Clarissa blinked in surprise. So, she wasn't going to be cut dead, but welcomed instead. "Thank you for seeing me, without notice."

"You're a member of the family now. We don't stand on ceremony with one another. You are welcome to call at any time, although I don't guarantee to be home." She smiled warmly at Clarissa and led her to a sofa standing before the windows.

"Thank you, Lady Dalton."

Jane sat down and Clarissa followed. "You must call me Jane," she reminded Clarissa.

"Thank you. Of course."

Jane looked at her expectantly, her blue eyes intent. "Now, is this a social call or one with a more serious purpose?"

Clarissa swallowed. "I would like your advice about how I can be reconciled with Francis, although he must go to Hampshire and I must stay in London." Tears prickled the back of her eyes.

"Have you spoken to him since last night?"

"Yes, but we seem to have reached an impasse. He must leave. I must stay."

"I feel I must ask you whether you see yourself eventually retiring from the stage and taking up the duties of a clergyman's wife?"

Jane's voice was filled with gentle enquiry, not condemnation, but still Clarissa's face heated. "I must confess that before meeting Francis, I never imagined I would ever assume such duties. Now I can see myself doing so at some time in the future."

"But not in the foreseeable future?" Jane lifted an eyebrow in enquiry.

"Unfortunately, I'm quite ambitious and long to become a successful actress. I believe I'm well on my way. I haven't told Francis yet, but I've been offered a role to perform at the Theatre Royal, Haymarket during its summer season. I don't wish to lose that opportunity to transfer from burlettas to plays."

"I can see your difficulty."

"We need a way for Francis to remain in London and be employed, without becoming embittered because he had to give up the living that your husband has so kindly offered him," Clarissa said. She couldn't be the cause of his unhappiness in such a way.

Jane leaned forward and patted Clarissa's hand. "I think you should leave the living to Jonathan to sort out. However, Francis will still need daily employment to keep him happy. He's always been an active man, although not engaged in physical work like our brothers serving in the navy and army."

"Yes, that is what he needs. It is not enough for my income to pay our expenses. Frank must be busy and feel he has worth as a man supporting his wife."

"I agree completely. I believe we will get on famously, Clarissa."

"I believe so. But can you assist with any ideas?"

Jane squeezed her hand. "Let me discuss the matter with my sisters and husband. It may take a day or two for us to come up with a plan."

Slightly disappointed that there wasn't an immediate solution, Clarissa suppressed a sigh. She didn't want to be separated from Frank, but she didn't want to give up her dreams. "I will leave you to finish whatever you were working on. Thank you for seeing me."

"This may seem unnecessary when it appears you may be separated from Francis for long periods of time, there's one more thing you must consider. If Francis and Jonathan can work out a way for him to remain in London, and I'm sure they will, it will be important to ensure you don't become burdened by babies at this early stage of your career. I can help you with that."

"I couldn't get rid of a baby or put one in an orphanage!"

"I'm not suggesting that you do. The aim is to prevent their conception." Jane explained further and Clarissa's cheeks flamed as she listened intently.

"That, at least, will remove that barrier to your success on the stage." Jane declared.

Clarissa's mind whirled with the possibilities than Jane's idea opened to more enjoyment for Frank and herself in the bedchamber. A smile stretched her face.

Jane led her to the door and opened it, before hugging Clarissa in a tight embrace. "Welcome to the family once again," she said.

"Thank you, Jane. I'm so glad to have Francis's family helping us." They were far more caring and helpful than she deserved. Tears prickled her eyes, but she blinked them away.

Clarissa followed a footman downstairs, donned her outdoor apparel from the butler and departed. She walked quickly to her father's house in time for lunch with him. S uddenly, almost everything she could ever wish for was within her grasp —except Francis in London with her.

But she wished for him most of all.