Loving Lizzie Finn

15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

L izzie paced her room. Neither her aunt nor her uncle had come home yet, and before they did, she needed to come up with a plausible excuse for Byron’s visit.

What if she told them she’d summoned him to the house? Yes, it was her fault he’d been here. She could say she’d wanted to finally make things clear with him, that they would no longer associate with each other in any way. That might work.

Her hopes rose, then fell just as quickly. She’d left with Byron … but only because of Stella’s situation. Would telling them that part make things worse or better? After all, Effie had said Uncle Eldon had recently argued with Maude about Lizzie asking questions at Maude’s House.

Lizzie hurried over to the table where she’d put her reticule and withdrew her mother’s diary. Did it hold the key to keeping her uncle in check?

She began flipping through the pages and immediately recognized her mother’s handwriting. The entries were short and infrequent. She skimmed one after the other.

Her mother had never been an outwardly emotional person. Apparently, her journal was the place where she’d vented her anger, wallowed in self-pity, or mourned her shame. She rarely wrote of anything good happening in her life. An entry in February of 1850 ended Lizzie’s skimming. She read more slowly this time, clutching the book in her hands.

I can’t believe Mr. Teague’s audacity! How often has Margaret extolled her fiancé’s merits? Then to have him insist he’s fallen in love with me! I don’t even know the man! Love at first sight? Hogwash! He says he will break off his engagement and ask Father for my hand instead. I can’t let that happen. Margaret would be heartbroken. I have to do something to stop him.

Indeed, she had done something. She’d married a stableman named Declan Finn. This account was exactly as Declan had said. Lizzie sat at the dressing table and read on about her mother’s tortuous marriage and safe but demeaning life at Maude’s House. Several pages passed by before Eldon Teague was mentioned again. Initially, her mother maligned him, blaming him at least partially for her circumstances, but before long, the tone of her entries changed. She spoke of his kindness toward her and her shame at looking forward to his visits, until finally, in April of 1851, an account had Lizzie gasping for breath.

What have I done? I will never forgive myself. In one moment of weakness, I committed a grave sin. All this time I’ve resisted my feelings toward Eldon, but last night I gave in to his charms. I have sinned against my sister, and I vow to never let it happen again. As penance, I will move into the servants’ quarters and dedicate my days to cleaning and cooking, whatever Maude will have me do.

Lizzie turned more pages, dread twisting her insides, and in June of that same year, her mother wrote:

I can’t believe my fate. How could this be happening? One night with Eldon, and now I find myself carrying his child. What should I do? Should I get rid of it? Every time I look at it, I’ll be reminded of my guilt and shame.

Tears sprang to Lizzie’s eyes. She was the result of an affair, a child her mother never wanted. Had her mother secretly hated the very sight of her?

She searched the remaining pages of her mother’s diary, desperate to find the reason her mother decided to keep her, desperate to find any clue to her mother’s true feelings for her, but she discovered nothing more.

An ache burned deep in her chest, creating an even bigger hole than before. She’d never been close with her mother, and now she knew the reason why. She dropped her head into her hands as her tears fell, and she yearned to have Byron’s arms around her.

Someone knocked softly on the door. “Miss Finn,” Emma called from the other side.

Lizzie swiped her face with her hands. “Come in.”

Emma stepped into the room, took one look at Lizzie, and strode toward her. “Miss Finn, are you all right?”

Lizzie took a deep breath and stood. “I’m fine.”

The concern didn’t leave Emma’s face, but she didn’t enquire more. “Mr. and Mrs. Teague want you to join them in the study.”

Instead of the dread she’d thought she’d feel when they returned home, anger burned bright within her. She snatched up her mother’s journal and marched out the door, down the stairs, and straight to her uncle’s study.

Two furious expressions greeted her, but she directed her own glare at her aunt. “Get out. I have something to discuss with my uncle.” Or rather her father.

“I will not!” her aunt sputtered.

Lizzie gestured toward the door. “Go.” Regardless of how her aunt had treated her these past years, the woman was an innocent party when it came to her husband’s transgression.

Confusion wrinkled her fa … Uncle Tea … Teague’s brow. “Give us a moment, Margaret.”

Aunt Margaret’s lips pursed, but she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Lizzie strode to the desk where Teague sat and slammed the book down on the surface before him.

“What is this?” he asked.

“My mother’s diary.” She gritted her teeth and pointed at him. “You. You’re the reason my mother went through hell.”

Teague picked up the journal and flipped it open. “What did your mother say?”

She grabbed the book from his hands. He shouldn’t touch anything that had belonged to her mother. Her vision blurred once more, and she clutched the diary to her chest. “If you hadn’t pushed her into marrying Declan Finn, she wouldn’t have been beaten so badly that Maude could talk her into selling her body.”

At least Teague had the decency to wince.

“Yet it didn’t end there, did it? You seduced her, dragging her down even lower. Because of you, she betrayed her sister and gave birth to a child she never wanted.” A sob escaped her throat. Her mother’s guilt had spurred her to push away Teague when Lizzie had been a child. That same guilt had created a distance between Lizzie and her mother that could never be breached. Lizzie covered her mouth with her hand to stifle more sobs. Now wasn’t the time to weep. She needed to stay strong.

Teague rose from his chair. “I didn’t force your mother to spend the night with me. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she loved me. And I loved her too.”

“Your love ruined her life.” No, not only her life. No wonder her aunt had always been so hostile toward her. “Why did you marry Aunt Margaret if you loved my mother so much?”

Teague frowned. “My family wanted a closer relationship with your grandfather for business reasons.”

“I see.” From what she’d heard, her grandfather had indeed invested in the Teague family’s ventures. She emitted a harsh laugh. “You married for business,” she muttered. Not surprising. It seemed he would do anything for profit.

Teague’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped around his desk, coming closer. “Where did you get your mother’s diary after all this time?”

“What does that matter?” She wouldn’t openly admit to going to Maude’s House.

“Never mind. I already know. You retrieved it from Maude’s brothel, and you went there with Byron Greeley.”

His fierce stare and ominous tone chilled her to the bone.

“Greeley had the audacity to come to my home,” he ground out.

“I’ve sent him away. We won’t be seeing each other again,” she hurried to assure him.

His stony expression didn’t change. “Pardon me if I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true whether you believe me or not.” Still, if he chose not to trust her … She raised her chin and straightened her spine. “If you dare do anything to Byron or his family, I will tell everyone that I’m your daughter.”

Teague’s jaw clenched, and he returned to his desk. “Do you think that information will hurt me all that much?” he asked, his tone more strained than he probably wished it was.

Although he had enough power and influence to overcome any disdain a scandal would cause, it would be a bother all the same.

“If you expose your parentage, you’ll go against your mother’s wishes. She never wanted anyone to know,” he reminded her as he sat back down in his desk chair.

“Spare Mr. Greeley and his family, and I swear none of your friends or associates will know you’re my father.”

“What about Greeley? Will you see him again?”

Time seemed to stand still as she forced out the words Teague wanted to hear. “No, I won’t,” she said with conviction.

Teague’s gaze softened. “I’ll give you one more chance, but you’ll need to prove your sincerity. You’re to stay home, and even if he comes calling again, you’re not to receive him.”

“I promise. I’ll do as you say.” For Byron and his family, she would abide by Teague’s wishes even if the thought of never seeing Byron again tore her heart in two.

“Now go before I change my mind.”

Lizzie quickly left the room only to find her aunt outside the door.

Aunt Margaret smirked. “So, now you know.”

An ache forming between her temples, Lizzie hurried past her scowling aunt and headed for the stairs. The last thing she wanted right now was to hear Margaret’s grievances.

Her aunt followed her. “Honestly, how couldn’t you have known Eldon was your father?”

The gibe pinched Lizzie’s frayed nerves as she climbed the steps toward her room. Perhaps she should have known. At least now Aunt Margaret’s constant vitriol toward her made sense.

“Brought home by your uncle ?” her aunt continued. “Why would he care so much about my niece? Especially when I didn’t care about you at all.”

Another pinch—this one more painful than the last. Yes, her aunt had good reason for her anger, but why focus that spite on her? “Why do you lash out at me? My mother and Uncle … your husband betrayed you, not me.”

“Eldon always pampered and coddled you,” Aunt Margaret snapped. “You—”

Enough! “How long have you known?” Lizzie asked.

“Eldon went to that damn brothel often. One day, I asked who my husband was visiting only to discover he’d been seeing Caroline.” Margaret crossed her arms, her face a mask of indignation. “When he brought home Caroline’s child, how could I not suspect you were his?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It would have been one more thing she could have spat in Lizzie’s face.

“Eldon forbade me to bring up the topic.” Margaret’s lips pursed as if tasting something sour. “Besides, once you knew, you might have thought to lord it over me, and damn Eldon … he might have let you.”

Lizzie faced her aunt and arched a brow. “Aren’t you worried he still might?”

“After all you’ve done recently? Unlikely.” Aunt Margaret’s forehead furrowed. “How he found Caroline at the brothel, I’ll never know,” she muttered. “Maybe she contacted him. After all, her marriage had fallen apart, and she knew Eldon cared for her.”

Had she not known her sister at all? “That’s not true. Declan Finn came to Teague to beg for money and ended up selling her location to him.” Lizzie raised her chin. “I’ve read my mother’s journal. Truth be told, she rejected Teague multiple times.”

Aunt Margaret pointed a finger in Lizzie’s face. “Obviously, there were times when she didn’t reject him, or you wouldn’t exist.”

According to the diary, her mother had relented only once, but what did it matter? Once had been enough to produce a child. Once was also enough to betray a sister.

“You and your mother destroyed my marriage!” Margaret’s finger came even closer to Lizzie’s nose. The look in Aunt Margaret’s eyes suggested she actually longed to cause Lizzie bodily harm. What held her back?

Lizzie clenched her fists, doing her best to hold her temper. “What about your husband? Is he innocent in all this? You don’t blame him at all?”

“He was ready to marry me before he ever met my sister. He wanted to marry me !”

So Teague was an innocent party? What a warped view of the past. Then again, she supposed it was easier to find fault with others than to condemn those you love. And in her aunt’s case, she could avoid the hurt of betrayal, the worry of how much of her marriage was real versus just a business arrangement, perhaps even the worry that she wasn’t good enough to prevent her husband from straying.

The pain in Lizzie’s head had grown into a throbbing ache, and she longed for peace and quiet. Lizzie pasted a smile on her lips and reached for the door. “And he did marry you. You are the lady of this fine house. Do your best to enjoy your good fortune. Once I’m gone, perhaps you can forget I even exist.”

With those parting words, Lizzie strode into her room, then shut and locked the door. She willed Aunt Margaret away. She didn’t need her aunt to remind her that, in her eyes, Lizzie was nothing more than a blemish to this family. Unwanted, and unloved.

Byron walked up to the impressive house, its size and splendor comparable to the one Teague owned. Excitement and wariness warred within him. He’d been sent a message supposedly by one of Teague’s employees who insisted he wanted to help resolve Byron’s issue with the bank.

What did this employee actually want with him? Still, his loan was due in a little over a week. He had no choice but to look into any possible way to either pay off the loan or prove Teague had changed the agreement.

He knocked on the door and was greeted by a butler who escorted him to a parlor where two men awaited him. Both stood when he entered.

“Mr. Greeley,” a blond man he’d never seen before greeted him. “I’m Cedric Price, and I’m the one who contacted you. This”—he gestured to the other man in the room, this one with a distinguished if weathered face—“is Mr. Bernard Bentley, the gentleman I wanted you to meet.”

Mr. Bentley dipped his head briefly in acknowledgement.

“What is this all about?” Byron asked. “How can you help me with my loan agreement?”

“Let’s sit and have a chat,” Mr. Bentley offered. “Would you care for some coffee?”

Byron waved away the offer as they all took a seat.

“Mr. Price and I have been friends for a handful of years now,” Mr. Bentley explained. “I met him when I was having problems with the loan I had taken out with Eldon Teague.”

Hope swelled within him. “What sort of problems?”

“Teague changed the terms of my loan, and my copy of the original agreement mysteriously disappeared from my office.”

The back of Byron’s neck prickled. Mr. Bentley’s experience sounded all too familiar. “Did the two of you successfully put the loan back to rights?”

The expressions of both men turned grim. “No,” Bentley answered. “I lost my store.”

Byron’s fragile hope popped like a soap bubble.

Mr. Bentley raised his hands to indicate his surroundings. “Perhaps my failure helped me. Instead of focusing my attention on selling wares, I turned to my true passion as an inventor. I’ve patented several minor inventions that have proved lucrative.”

Which had worked well for Bentley but had nothing to do with him. He turned to Price. “Why have you called me here?”

“While I’ve done well for myself, I’ve never forgotten what Teague did to me,” Bentley cut in. “Mr. Price and I have been looking for ways to make Teague pay for his treachery.”

Mr. Price leaned forward in his seat. “I heard recently that you’ve found yourself in a similar situation with Teague.”

“If you couldn’t prove Teague’s wrongdoing then, how do you propose we do it now?” Byron pressed.

Price’s brows rose, but before he could speak, Bentley interrupted. “Can I offer you something stronger than coffee.”

Mr. Price chuckled, and Byron shook his head.

“Go on with what you were going to say,” Bryon prompted.

“All right then.” Price cleared his throat. “I’ve also heard a rumor that you’ve become close to Teague’s niece.”

Byron tensed. “What does she have to do with anything?”

“When we were looking for evidence against Teague, we searched everywhere, even his house,” Price explained.

“How long ago was this?” Byron half growled.

Confusion crossed Price’s face. “About four years ago.”

Byron bristled. Four years ago, Lizzie had already moved into Teague’s house, and these two had sent someone to break in and search their home? He blew out a breath. Then again, hadn’t he stolen into their house to do the same?

“The only place we couldn’t search was Teague’s safe in his office at the bank—only he has the key,” Price continued. “If you can convince Teague’s niece to get the key, we’ll sneak into the bank at night and see what we can find in that safe.”

“I assume you have a key to the bank?” Byron reasoned.

Price nodded.

Byron sat back in his chair. Looking for evidence was one thing, breaking into a bank was quite another. Sure, he’d trespassed into Teague’s home, but he’d been drunk and stupid at the time. Not that he would ever regret doing so. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have met Lizzie.

Byron rubbed his suddenly chilled hands together. Odd that these two men were encouraging him to break the law. “How do I know I can trust you? What if you’re secretly working with Teague?”

“I thought you might ask that.” Mr. Bentley rose from his seat and crossed the room to a writing desk. He opened a drawer and withdrew a document then handed it to Byron.

Byron skimmed the pages of a contract. It seemed Mr. Bentley was willing to pay half of Greeley & Company’s loan if they were unable to prove Teague’s guilt before the loan came due. “Getting revenge on Teague must mean a lot to you.”

“That man put me through hell.” Bentley gestured toward Teague’s subordinate. “If it hadn’t been for Mr. Price, I would have been living on the streets after Teague took everything from me. I can never repay Mr. Price enough.”

Mr. Price smiled. “I could say the same to you. If I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t be happily married now.”

“He recently married my niece,” Mr. Bentley clarified. He pointed to the contract in Byron’s hands. “What do you think?”

“I need some time to decide.”

“Don’t ponder it too long,” Bentley warned. “Time is ticking by.”

“I’m all too aware.” How difficult would it be for Lizzie to get the key from Teague? Did he even want to involve her in this? If they were caught, she would be an accessory to the crime. He didn’t like the thought of it, but what choice did he have?