Loving Lizzie Finn

9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

L izzie climbed the stairs at Maude’s House on her way to Effie’s room, dread weighing down her feet, making each step heavier than the last. Would she learn her mother had been a prostitute? While that fact wouldn’t change Lizzie’s memories, the thought of her mother debasing herself made her chest ache. Her mouth dry, she approached Effie’s door.

Other than Maude, Effie was the only person remaining who’d worked at Maude’s House when her mother had first arrived. Lizzie paused in the hallway. Did she truly want to know? She blew out a breath. Enough of that. She was no feeble miss. She could bear the truth, and she would.

She knocked on the door, and Stella answered.

“Stella, what are you doing in Effie’s room?” As far as she knew, Stella and Effie weren’t close. Lizzie gasped. A fresh bruise marred Stella’s cheek. She reached out toward Stella’s face. “Oh Stella, what—?”

“I’m helping Effie pack her things.” Stella turned her face away and opened the door wider to show Effie inside, haphazardly stuffing an item of clothing into a carpetbag.

Fine. If Stella didn’t want to talk about what had happened to her, so be it. Lizzie’s stomach sank. Not much could be done about it anyway.

Lizzie flashed Stella a questioning look. “Why is she packing? Effie, where are you going?”

“Where can I go?” Effie groused. “There’s nowhere left for me.”

“Madam Maude is kicking her out,” Stella explained, stepping away from the door.

“Maude told me I had to quit drinking, so I did, and she’s still showing me the door.” Effie dropped down onto her bed next to her carpetbag. “You did well to leave this place, Lizzie. You did well.”

“Oh, Effie, I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

“Why are you here?” Stella asked Lizzie. “I didn’t think you’d ever come back to Maude’s, and now I’ve seen you twice in short order.”

Lizzie closed the door and came farther into the room. “I was going to ask Effie about something, but perhaps this isn’t a good time.”

“Now is the best time.” Effie stood. “Who knows where I’ll be tomorrow? If you have questions to ask, do it now.”

Lizzie studied the woman for a full minute, unsure. Effie had her own worries. She didn’t even know where she was off to.

“Come on now,” Effie urged. “It will give me something else to think about.”

Very well. She took a moment to gather her wits, then pushed the words out. “Was my mother ever a prostitute?”

Effie’s eyes widened. “Why are you asking that all of a sudden?”

“The man who questioned you about my uncle said you told him she was.”

Effie stared hard at Lizzie and then at the floor before she mumbled, “Did I? I don’t believe so. Why would I say such a thing?”

“Effie, please tell me the truth. A simple yes or no will do.”

“You lived with your mother. You knew her better than I did,” she grumbled as she rather absently packed her things.

Had she? While her mother had fulfilled the duties of a mother, she’d always been distant. The trauma of having her family turn their backs on her had likely been the cause. It must have been devastating to have those closest to her betray her trust.

Her skin prickled with dread. From Effie’s avoidance of her questions, she could probably assume the worst. No, she needed more than assumptions. “Do I need to bring Mr. Greeley over to recount the conversation you had with him?”

Effie pursed her lips and maintained her silence.

Glancing at the door, Lizzie was sorely tempted to seek out Byron, and not only to get the truth out of Effie. She inhaled a shaky breath as a need for comfort that only he could provide washed over her.

“Go ahead and get him,” Stella urged her. “Maybe then Effie will admit to what she said or why she said it if it was a lie.”

Lizzie nodded and took a step toward the door before she came to her senses. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Stella asked.

“My uncle has someone watching Byron’s business. If he discovers Byron and I have met, he’ll make Byron’s life harder than he already has.” She couldn’t take the risk but, oh, how she wished to. As it was, she’d taken precautions so she wouldn’t be followed to Maude’s. If Uncle Eldon found out she’d visited the brothel, he’d be furious.

“Then I’ll go get him for you,” Stella offered. “Where is his business?”

Hope welled inside Lizzie’s chest. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Stella assured her.

Even the mere thought of seeing him settled her nerves to a degree. She gave Stella the name of the business and the address, and Stella hurried out of the room. Not more than two minutes later, another face appeared in the doorway.

“Where did Stella go running off to?” Maude demanded. The madam seemed much the same as she had five years ago, her clothing well-kept but inexpensive and her smiles saved for customers. The woman’s stare swept over Lizzie. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to see Effie, and Stella is doing me a favor.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “She isn’t paid to do you any favors. She’d better return soon, or her pay will be docked.”

Rage bubbled up within her. As if Maude’s House had many customers in the middle of the afternoon.

“And you.” Madam Maude pointed at Effie. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

Lizzie stiffened. “Effie has worked for you as long as this place has been open. How can you toss her aside like this?”

“Why should I continue to feed and shelter her when she no longer brings in money? This is a business, not a charity.”

Madam Maude had such a narrow view of things. “Then have her work for you. There are plenty of chores she can help with—cleaning, mending, doing the laundry. Effie can still be of value to you.”

“This room—”

“Can be given to someone new. Effie can live in the attic with the other servants.” Perhaps Effie wouldn’t be as comfortable as before, but at least she’d have a roof over her head.

Madam Maude scowled. “I don’t need another servant. We already have two.” She pointed toward Effie. “I’ll give you until three o’clock to leave.”

“You had more than two when Lizzie and Caroline were servants,” Effie reminded her.

“Those were different circumstances.”

“How so? Maude’s House still has the same number of rooms to clean and the same number of people to care for.” Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest. “And from what I’ve heard, business has been doing well.”

Maude pursed her lips but said no more.

Lizzie arched a brow. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken to overworking the staff in order to save money.”

“I don’t … We didn’t need that many workers then either,” Maude blustered.

A sorry excuse. “Then why did you have so many?” Maude had never been a benevolent person.

Effie’s lips curved into a devious smile. “Yes, Madam Maude, why did you have so many? Was it because …?”

“Effie,” Maude snapped.

Her expression smug, Effie tipped her head to the side. “Perhaps you should reconsider making me a servant. To my way of thinking, you do need as many as you had back then. Or am I mistaken?” Effie’s eyes glinted with challenge.

Bitter annoyance hardened Maude’s features, and she clenched her hands. “You can stay for now, in the attic.” Cursing, Maude marched from the room.

“What was that about?” Lizzie asked. “Why did she have more servants years ago?”

Effie smirked and continued to pack her bag. “That’s between me and her.”

While Maude had agreed to keep Effie under this roof, would she treat her worse than before? “We need to find you a better livelihood than this, Effie, and a more suitable place for you to stay.” For Stella too. She just had to figure out what they could do and where they could go.

“I’ll take what I can get. Even the attic will do.”

As Effie pulled more clothes out of the wardrobe, Lizzie’s mind spun. Effie had threatened to reveal the reason there had been more servants when Lizzie and her mother had worked here. What could that reason be? Lizzie had been doing chores at Maude’s House as far back as she could remember. Her home had always been in the attic, and as far as she knew, she’d been the last one added to the staff. She’d always believed her mother had arranged it with Maude. Had that not been true? An arrangement with Maude … The letter she’d found in her uncle’s desk flashed before her eyes. Madam Maude has told me about your arrangement with her. While I’m grateful for all that you’ve done for me, you need to stop concerning yourself with my situation.

Her attention turned to Effie, who was gathering bottles and tins from the dressing table. Lizzie closed the door and approached Effie. “Did my uncle pay Madam Maude so she would house us in the attic as servants?”

Effie stilled for a moment. “Why would you say that?”

Typical Effie. She’d always been a terrible liar, and she knew it. So whenever she could, she would dance around a subject rather than lie.

“I found a letter my mother sent to him mentioning an agreement he had with Maude, although it didn’t specify what that agreement was.”

The door opened, and Stella walked into the room.

Effie carefully tucked the bottles into her bag. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Wouldn’t know anything about what?” Stella asked as Byron entered the room behind her, his gaze finding Lizzie.

A sense of calm seeped into her at the sight of him. His powerful presence in the room reassured her as if telling her that no matter what she discovered about her mother everything would be all right. His handsome features and warm stare conjured the memory of their passionate kisses in the salon during the ball. She stepped closer to him, irresistibly drawn to his side.

“Lizzie?” Stella waved a hand in front of Lizzie’s face. “I asked what Effie wouldn’t know.”

Lizzie’s cheeks heated, and Byron hid a knowing smile behind his hand. She cleared her throat and closed the door again. “I asked Effie what kind of understanding my uncle had with Madam Maude.”

“She told me your uncle paid the madam to keep you and your mother from having to entertain customers,” Byron offered.

Effie rubbed her forehead. “I must have been more drunk than I thought when I spoke with him.”

So it was true. “Then when my mother first came to Maude’s House, she was a prostitute for a time?”

Effie frowned and looked away.

“Effie, please answer me.”

“Yes.”

Her heart squeezed tight. She’d suspected the truth for quite some time, but hearing Effie confirm her suspicions twisted her insides.

“Don’t let on to Maude that I told you,” Effie pleaded.

Stella’s expression became a look of confusion. “Why is all this a secret? Who cares about a prostitute and her benefactor?”

Effie shrugged. “Likely Mr. Teague doesn’t want anyone to know.”

“For Lizzie’s sake?” Stella asked.

That didn’t make sense. “Thanks to my aunt, many people already know my mother was a prostitute.”

Stella’s brows furrowed. “Then why?”

“Maybe Teague swore Maude to silence for Caroline.” Effie stopped packing and faced Lizzie. “She never told you about her past. Perhaps she never wanted you to know the truth.”

Stella huffed out a breath. “Then why does Mr. Teague allow his wife to gossip about Lizzie’s mother?”

“How would he force his wife to be silent? Threaten to beat her?” Effie scoffed.

“Aunt Margaret doesn’t gossip in front of my uncle, not that he doesn’t find out eventually what she’s told everyone.” He occasionally reprimanded her for it, and she would apologize. What else could he do? After all, what was done, was done.

Byron took Lizzie’s hand in his. “Perhaps your belief that your aunt was lying about your mother was more important to him.”

Lizzie nodded. “No matter my doubts, I’d refused to let her tales affect me.” She’d been a foolish child keeping her eyes screwed tightly shut. Now the reality was all too obvious. Maude only would have brought a woman in and offered her protection if significant profits could be made.

But then … another question knocked on Lizzie’s skull. “When did my mother get pregnant?”

Effie continued gathering her things. “I don’t know.”

This again. Lizzie let out a sigh. “I won’t let on to Maude that you’ve spilled secrets as long as you tell me everything.”

“I truly don’t know exactly when,” Effie insisted. “I found out Caroline was with child after she moved to the attic.”

“How long after?” Lizzie pressed.

Effie cast her a guilty look. “I didn’t pay attention.”

“Effie.”

Effie cringed. “Long enough that there were all sorts of rumors about who the father might be.”

Who the father might be? The world stopped for a moment, and Lizzie sank onto a chair. “My mother always told me that Declan Finn was my father.” Was that a lie?

“I don’t understand why your mother ever married that man,” Effie muttered. “After all he put her through, he’d frequently show up drunk to demand money from Caroline only to be chased out time and again.”

True. He’d been an abusive scoundrel. Sadly, according to the law, husbands could “punish” their wives as they saw fit. While she’d never liked to think about being related to Declan Finn, she didn’t relish not knowing who her father was. Was she some unknown customer’s child? Did that man still visit Maude’s House? Stop. She couldn’t let her imagination run wild. As far as she knew, her mother had told her the truth.

“He must have given up at some point,” Stella mused. “I don’t remember ever seeing this Declan Finn.”

Lizzie had never met him either.

“More rumors circulated when he stopped coming around,” Effie admitted.

Lizzie’s shoulders dropped. What else? And did she want to know?

“What sort of rumors?” Stella asked, saving her the effort.

Effie stepped closer to the three of them. “That Mr. Teague threatened him,” she whispered. “Which only spawned more speculation about what relationship Mr. Teague had with Caroline.”

“What do you mean? Because he paid Maude?” Her uncle had always been kind to her and her mother. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised to find out he’d given Maude money to help them.

“When he found out your mother was expecting, he was adamant that he wanted to take her away, but she refused to leave with him.”

What would Aunt Margaret have said to that? She’d never forgiven Lizzie’s mother for walking away from their family for a man. Lizzie’s mother becoming a prostitute had no doubt added fuel to the fire.

Stella’s brows rose. “Why would she refuse? She’d preferred to work in a brothel with a child by her side?”

“Because of my aunt. My mother probably didn’t want to drive a wedge between Aunt Margaret and her husband.”

“She and your aunt were already estranged by then. Why would she care what her sister thought when that same sister couldn’t care less about her?” Stella asked.

“She was pregnant and living in a brothel. If Teague took her away to live comfortably somewhere else, how would that look to most people?” Byron pointed out. “How would that be perceived by her sister?”

Oh, dear God. “Like he was the father of her child,” Stella muttered.

“Exactly.”

Even after her family had shunned her, Lizzie’s mother had never spoken ill of Aunt Margaret. She’d preferred to recount the fond memories of their childhood. She never would have wanted Margaret to suffer because of her.

“Teague isn’t a stupid man. He must have known how it would look, and yet he’d argued to take her away regardless. Why do you think he felt so strongly about what happened to you and your mother?” Effie asked.

Lizzie’s chest tightened, and she struggled to draw in a breath. “What are you insinuating?” She’d always believed Uncle Eldon had been so kind to them because he’d had pity for his wife’s relatives, but perhaps she was foolishly clinging to the na?ve notions of a child. Her heart thumped painfully against her ribs. She jumped up from her chair. Was Eldon Teague her father? “My mother would never betray her sister like that.” She frantically thought back, looking for any clues her mother or her uncle might have given. “No, it can’t be. No.”

Byron enveloped her in his arms. “Easy now. We don’t know anything for sure.”

Lizzie dropped her head to Byron’s shoulder, his arms around her exactly what she needed. “If he is my father, I’m not sure how I should feel. Not only would he have had an affair, but with his wife’s sister no less. And my mother …” She sank into his embrace as Byron rubbed her back in soothing strokes.

“I’m sorry, Lizzie. I’ve told you all I know.” Effie picked up her carpetbag and gestured toward the wardrobe. “Stella, grab that last petticoat and follow me. Let’s give these two some privacy.”

“Good idea.” Stella helped gather Effie’s belongings, and they both left the room, closing the door behind them.

Byron drew her closer as if he could absorb her pain. “Don’t rush to decide how you should think and feel about all this. Let the shock of it all abate. Even if Teague is your father, you said yourself that Teague treats you well.”

“He isn’t treating me quite as well anymore. He’s forcing me to marry by threatening to destroy you.”

Byron tensed. “Don’t let him sway you. I’ll be fine. You don’t need to marry on my account.”

Lizzie lifted her head and took a step back. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan to marry. I just haven’t figured out a way yet to convince him and my aunt that they should leave me be. Maybe we can come up with something together.”

Byron stared into her eyes with an earnestness that stole her breath. “Marry me instead.”

She sank onto a chair by the dressing table. Marry him? She shook her head. “You’re thinking my uncle won’t hurt you and your family if you’re my husband, but I’m not so sure.”

Byron crouched down by the chair. “Actually, I can’t stand the thought of you marrying someone else. I truly want to marry you.”

Lizzie’s insides fluttered, and a vision of Byron holding her hand, vowing to cherish her for the rest of her life flashed before her eyes. No. She blinked the image away. “I won’t marry anyone.”

“I know you wish to be self-reliant. I wouldn’t force my will on you. You’d still be able to work and have your own money if that’s what you’d like.”

She swallowed past the lump that had formed in her throat and stood. “No.”

Byron rose to his feet and ran a hand through his hair. “I see.”

Her heart clenched. The look on his face was so forlorn. “It’s not that I’m refusing your proposal. I’m refusing any proposal.”

“I understand,” he said, but his expression didn’t change.

“I don’t believe you do.” Lizzie gazed down at the empty dressing table where various powders and scents usually cluttered the surface. Every prostitute had a similar collection of cosmetics. She remembered well. “The man my mother trusted, loved, and married abused her until Madam Maude took her in. For years, my aunt has told me how much I’m like my mother, but in this, I’ve learned from my mother’s example. I won’t take the chance of being manipulated by a man.”

“You think I’ll manipulate you?”

“I …” Byron had helped her on several occasions. He’d given her a job. He’d come to her rescue at the ball. He was with her now. Then again, the man her mother married must have seemed trustworthy at one time as well. “I’m afraid I’ll make some of the same mistakes my mother made.”

“I’d never hurt you or manipulate you.” He stepped closer. “You can trust me.”

Indeed. Byron did seem honest, hardworking, and trustworthy. She desperately yearned to believe him. Her feelings for him grew stronger every day, and unlike many, he treated her with respect, as someone of worth. Still, a niggling fear she couldn’t dispel raised gooseflesh along her skin. “I need time to think.” Could she eventually trust him enough to accept his proposal?

Byron’s face lit up. “I’ll give you as much time as you need. Just know I’ll always support you in any way I can.”

He looked so pleased she couldn’t help but smile. This man might win over her heart, mind, and soul if she wasn’t careful.