The Foundling (Rags to Richmonds #3)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

T hat panicked apprehension had barely diminished before she met the first member of her family, later that very afternoon. It happened quite unexpectedly, giving her no opportunity to prepare herself for it. She had gone to her room to fetch a shawl when there came a knock at the door, and Daisy poked her head around it, announcing that there was someone to see her.

“Thank you. Tell them I shall come directly.”

“She wouldn’t hear of waiting in the hall. Wanted to come to you.”

Frederica stood up from her chest, her shawl half-forgotten in her hand. “Here?” she whispered with a glance at the door.

Daisy nodded. “Says her name is Lady Kemerton.”

Frederica’s hands began to tremble. She did not wish to receive her sister in this state—in her drabbest dress that was slightly too short and her hair in an ugly chignon—yet she could not refuse. Not again! She nodded and held her breath as the maid departed, leaving the door ajar behind her—then gasped to see the lady who stepped into the room.

No wonder Penrith had said they did not look alike; Lady Kemerton was the handsomest woman Frederica had ever seen—an inch or so taller than she was herself, with hair so blonde it was almost white, skin that looked as smooth and fragile as porcelain, and fine, delicate features. Frederica was spellbound.

The apparition held out both hands and smiled joyously. “Frederica? I am Adelaide. Your sister.”

Frederica fumbled with her shawl for a moment or two before tossing it back into the open chest and giving Adelaide her hands. She began to dip into a curtsey, but her sister shook her head and pulled her up.

“None of that. Not for me. Not ever.”

Frederica nodded but knew not what to say. She could not stop looking at Adelaide, searching for some similarity, no matter how small. She had a kind face; beauty had not made it cold, as it sometimes did to the prettiest women. Her smile was genuine and easy; her eyes—Frederica peered harder. She had not noticed before, for the light was not good in her small room, but now they were closer, she could see that Adelaide’s eyes were the most extraordinary shade of blue. Violet, almost.

“My eyes are green,” she said, then hated herself for being so vapid.

Adelaide only smiled more broadly. “As are Lord Tipton’s. As were our father’s, apparently.”

Frederica inhaled shakily, unexpectedly affected by the revelation. “I did not think I would have anything in common with any of you.”

“Oh, we have far more in common than you realise. May we sit?” At Adelaide’s insistence, they were soon settled side by side against the bedstead with pillows behind them and their knees bent up in front. She took Frederica’s hand in hers and held it while she talked. “I had to come. As soon as His Grace informed us of your distress, I had to come right away.”

“It was good of you to come all this way for me.”

“It was not far. That is, I would have come no matter the distance—we are all coming, everyone is on their way—I just happened to be nearest. Can you believe we have been so close to each other all this time and not known it? Avonwyke, my home since I married, is but eleven miles from here.”

Frederica glanced at her in surprise. “Eleven miles! That is close.” The sudden movement made the pillow behind her slip and the iron bars of the bedstead dig into her back. It made her acutely aware of how inferior her situation must appear. “Though we move in such different circles, we might have been in the same town and never known it.”

“Perhaps they are different now,” Adelaide answered, “but until two years ago, I was working as a housemaid in Southampton. I suppose His Grace told you that?”

Frederica nodded.

“And Scarlett was living as the spinster daughter of a clergyman in Stanbridge. She lives in Harpenden now—at Ashworthe Park. She and Worthe will arrive in the next few days, as will Oakley. They are all coming to Avonwyke. That way, we can be near you without you having to leave Taverstock for any great length of time. His Grace explained that you are quite troubled by the prospect of abandoning your duties.”

“I confess I am—though I am equally distressed at the prospect of having to decline Lord Tipton’s invitation. Do you think he will be very offended that I cannot go?”

Adelaide squeezed Frederica’s hand. “I can guarantee he will not be, for we have already exchanged expresses on the matter. I have explained the situation, and he has given his blessing to the idea of us all coming here instead. He cannot come himself, sadly. He suffers in the winter months with rheumatism, and he has been particularly unwell this year. A jolting carriage ride would be agonising for the poor dear. Aunt Louisa will remain with him, for she is devoted to his care, but I beg you would not take it personally. They will come as soon as they can.”

“I understand. He did believe me, though? When the duke first wrote to say that he had found me—he did not question my parentage?”

“Faith! We all believed you! The family has been through so many convolutions to reach this point—after everything, your history was the simplest of all. You had papers, you had your name, you knew who your parents were. There is not a shred of doubt in any of our minds.”

“My name is…I do not know that my name is the one my parents chose.” She explained how it had been added to her documents in pencil .

Adelaide beamed at her. “Well, let me tell you something you do not know, in that case. In looks, Scarlett and I take after our grandmother on our father’s side. You will see a portrait of her when you do eventually go to Chiltern Court. The resemblance is how Oakley discovered me in the first place. But you , dear Sister, are named for her. She was Lady Frederica Tipton.”

“Truly?”

“Yes! Who knows? Perhaps one of us addressed you as that, before we were separated, and it was overheard and added to your papers. We might never know, but it seemed too much of a coincidence for any of us to overlook. It is not a common name for a foundling.”

Frederica could not argue with that. Those children who came to Taverstock without a name of their own were never given highborn names; the governors frowned upon it. And she had received more than her share of teasing for her lofty moniker as a child. “The other orphans used to call me Fred.”

Adelaide smiled sympathetically. “When I was a housemaid, everybody called me Sarah, and I always wished they would not.”

“I am not surprised—Adelaide is a beautiful name. It suits you.”

Frederica was surprised to see her sister grow self-conscious; she would have thought such a handsome woman would be used to compliments. “Can I ask you a question?” she said, partly to ease Adelaide’s embarrassment and partly because the mention of her sister’s time as a maid had put her in mind of another matter. “Did you leave service because you wished to, or because Lord Tipton insisted upon it?”

“I left because Oakley suggested it. We have both since agreed that we did not go about it in the best way, but I was not sorry to go.”

“You wanted to be with your family?”

“Well, in truth, not at first, no. I took some convincing that I was a Richmond. But I will not pretend that a maid’s work is enjoyable. The chance to leave it for a better life was one I could not turn down.”

“That is my quandary,” Frederica said. “I do wish to know you all, but I should be desolate to leave Taverstock. The children, the people who work here, they are all the family I have ever known. The thought of leaving it all behind is insupportable.” She could not bring herself to look at Adelaide and instead squeezed her eyes shut. “You must think me the most ungrateful wretch.”

“I should be a terrible hypocrite if I did,” Adelaide said with a note of laughter in her voice. “I had not been at Chiltern Court six months before I turned my back on everything our aunt and uncle had given me and ran away, back to High Brook.”

Frederica looked at her in astonishment. “You did?”

“I did, for shame! I could not accustom myself to such a different way of living. I wanted to return to a simpler time—and to see my friend, Patty, whom I missed dreadfully. Only, by then, she had left, and nobody knew where she had gone. But all that is to say that we understand. When I first came to Chiltern Court, we all thought it would be best if I forgot my old life entirely and acted as though I had always been a Richmond. It was an unmitigated disaster, and I made a complete fudge of it. But we have learnt from our mistakes. Nobody expects you to give up your attachment to Taverstock overnight.”

“But you do expect me to give it up eventually?”

She frowned. “You do not wish to leave…ever?”

“Would my uncle object, if that was what I wished?”

Adelaide puffed out her cheeks and raised her eyebrows. “I shall not lie and pretend he would be easy with it. There are things to consider. The family’s reputation has been sorely tested over the years.”

“But will he force me to leave?”

“No,” she said cautiously. “But we are running away with ourselves. Nobody is going to make you leave now , and therefore, let us content ourselves with knowing one another. I am all anticipation for you to meet the rest of the family. Will you come upstairs and meet Kem now?”

“Kem?”

“My husband—Lord Kemerton.”

“He is here, too?”

“Yes! He wanted to meet his new sister just as much as I did.”

It had not occurred to Frederica that, by her two sisters, she had also gained two brothers in their husbands. She responded to it rather more successfully than she had to the news of the twins, for it was not quite such a shock. “I should like that very well, if you think he will not mind that I look rather like an orphan myself today. ”

Adelaide turned serious. “Kem would not mind if you were dressed in rags. I pretty much was, the first time he met me—but that is by the bye. You are quite the prettiest creature! How could you think you look anything but lovely? And I shall tell you something else…you look a little like Oakley. There is something about your mouth and chin that is very similar.”

“Oh, well, I suppose looking like one’s cousin is better than looking like none of one’s family.”

It appeared as though Adelaide’s colour rose, but as they were shuffling themselves off the bed, straightening the blankets, and gathering up their belongings, Frederica supposed a slight flush was hardly to be wondered at.

Lord Kemerton was nowhere to be found inside the house. They discovered him eventually, meandering away along the path outside, deep in conversation with none other than the Duke of Penrith. Frederica wished then that she had insisted on changing into something less homely, though she scarcely knew which of her gowns would have qualified.

“You did not say His Grace was here as well,” she whispered to Adelaide.

“I did not know he was. He must have arrived while I was inside.”

And, indeed, there were two carriages in the drive, all eight horses snorting their displeasure at the inactivity. Frederica resigned herself to it. She supposed she had been wearing similarly unflattering attire on every one of his previous visits. It ought not to concern her any more this time .

Adelaide cleared her throat; both men looked their way and immediately set out back towards them. Frederica felt a ripple of pleasure upon meeting the duke’s gaze. She wondered whether, now that she had privately acknowledged his handsomeness, it was destined to be the first thing she noticed about him at every encounter. Lord Kemerton was taller than the duke and on a larger scale—altogether a rather imposing figure, in fact. Frederica was vastly relieved when he spoke in the gentlest of accents and with the warmest of smiles.

“Is this our sister?”

“It is,” Adelaide answered. “Frederica Richmond.”

He took Frederica’s extended hand in both of his and shook it with great warmth. “And you must call me Kem. I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“Your Grace, is this serendipity, or did you plan to come at the same time as us?” Adelaide enquired of the duke.

“Quite deliberate,” he replied. “After making such a meal of my communications before, I preferred to be on hand to explain away any further misunderstandings.”

“That was a kind thought,” Frederica said. It occurred to her, as she stood in her new brother’s shadow, her head barely reaching his shoulder, that a man of Penrith’s stature—lean, athletic, taller than her without towering over her—would suit her far better. Then she wished it had not occurred to her, for the thought made her blush. She could just imagine the duke’s affront at the notion of a foundling orphanage worker imagining any compatibility between herself and him .

“Indeed, it was, though quite unnecessary,” Adelaide added. “We understand each other perfectly, do we not, Frederica?”

“If we do not, then it is a misunderstanding so great that neither of us is aware of it.”

Her sister laughed, and Frederica felt intensely gratified to have pleased her.

Adelaide slipped her arm around her husband’s and said to him, “It is settled between us that you and I shall receive the others at Avonwyke, and Frederica will visit us all there.”

“Will you have time for that, Miss Child?” Penrith asked. “It will not interfere with your work?”

Frederica thought Adelaide looked a little vexed, though whether it was at Penrith questioning her scheme or using the name ‘Child’, she could not be sure. She did not like that her sister was offended, but she was exceedingly touched by the duke’s consideration—and particularly grateful for his adherence to her wish to be addressed thusly, even in the presence of her new family. It made her feel more secure in her connection to Taverstock, less hastened into the unfamiliar.

“I shall have time,” she assured them all. “The governors have just appointed a new schoolmaster, so I shall be a little more at liberty to make short visits.”

“Only a little?” Penrith replied wryly. “Might I suggest that, since Miss Child’s time is evidently still in high demand, you all come to Cedarvale for this first gathering? It is five miles nearer than Avonwyke—and neutral territory, so to speak. ”

“That is excessively generous,” Kem said after a quick glance at Adelaide.

“It would be my pleasure, though I regret that you will have to excuse the want of a hostess.”

There was an awkward silence, which Frederica did not allow to persist. “Of course, though perhaps Lady Delphine might grace us with her presence for some part of the evening?”

Penrith fixed his eyes on her, and the moroseness that had stolen over him with his last words seemed to ebb away again. “It can certainly be arranged, but unless you have a fondness for oat biscuits and sugar mice, I shall not be asking her to arrange the menu.”

She laughed merrily, and even the duke chuckled slightly. With his poise returned, he suggested that the dinner should be that Friday. “I shall send my carriage for you, Miss Child.”

Frederica thought she saw Adelaide and Kem exchange a look at that, but it was soon forgotten when the duke asked another question.

“Was Lady Kemerton able to tell you your mother’s name?”

“I have only ever known her as Mrs Robert Richmond,” Frederica explained for the others’ benefit.

Fondness suffused Adelaide’s face. “Her name was Susan. She was Susan Browning before she married our father.”

Susan Browning. It was the sort of name the governors would think wholly appropriate for one of the orphans—unremarkable, with no pretensions to grandeur. Frederica felt a smile spread wide over her face. It was the closest affinity she had ever felt to her mother in all of her twenty years. She thanked Adelaide warmly, after which the party said their farewells and went their separate ways.

Frederica returned to the office to continue with the correspondence she had been in the middle of before going in search of a shawl. It was a pointless endeavour, for she could not concentrate and found herself staring out of the window, running over in her mind again and again everything that had just occurred.

She could not have been more delighted by her first meeting with her new family. Adelaide was everything a sister ought to be—thoughtful, understanding, patient, and with no airs at all, despite her elevation to countess. Kem had been similarly welcoming, all civility and friendliness. They were worlds away from the cold-hearted people she had always imagined her Richmond relations to be. If the rest of her family were as amiable, Frederica would consider herself fortunate indeed.

Penrith’s kindness had made its mark also. He surely had better things with which to concern himself than her family reunion, yet he had come all the way to Taverstock merely to ensure its success. It reminded her of what he had once said—that his reason for helping was to prevent another family being separated as his had been. It saddened her to think of it in that context, for to go to such lengths for her only proved how painful his loss must have been. It made her more determined, for his sake, to learn to love her new family.