The Foundling (Rags to Richmonds #3)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

F rederica was just locking the storeroom when the door to the garden opened, and a rush of warm spring air swirled into the cool service passage. She squinted at the darkened figure loitering on the threshold. “Rupert, is that you?”

“Aye, and I’ve something for you.” Looking behind him, he added, “Come on. Miss Child won’t bite.”

As Frederica watched, a boy emerged from behind Rupert, his shoulders slumped and his hands worrying at his shirt front. “Tom! Whatever were you doing outside?” She knelt down and prised his hands away from his shirt to still them with her own. The boy did not answer, and she looked to Rupert for an explanation.

He shrugged. “Found him hiding behind the shed. Says he’s upset about his sister being taken away.”

Frederica’s stomach dropped. It was true that a family friend of Tom and Lucy’s father had enquired about adopting Lucy—and only Lucy—but everything that could be done to persuade them that the sister ought not to be separated from the brother was being done. If it was up to Frederica, the adoption would not go ahead unless it was of both children, but either way, neither of them ought to have known about it at this stage. She could not imagine how Tom had found out.

“Oh petal! Your sister is not going anywhere,” she said comfortingly. “She is upstairs in her lesson—as you ought to be. Come along now.” She stood up and held out her hand, but he shook his head and refused to take it.

“Bertie Campbell said he got a thick ear for skipping lessons,” he mumbled disconsolately.

“Yes, well, Bertie has a nose for trouble, and he used to vex Mr Patterson something rotten. But Mr Patterson is no longer here, so you have nothing to worry about. Come on, let us get you back to the schoolroom.” Still, he hesitated to take her hand.

“Go on with you, lad. Miss Child knows what she’s about,” Rupert said cheerfully. He followed it with a shy smile in her direction, which Frederica was vastly relieved to see. It had been almost a week since their falling out, and though they had apologised to each other, this was the first indication that their friendship was returning to its previous footing. The encouragement was enough to make Tom nod and put his hand into Frederica’s; she sent Rupert an appreciative smile before setting out for the schoolrooms.

Both Mr Carnegie’s and Mr Milliard’s classes were working in orderly silence when they arrived on the landing, a far cry from the fractious unrest of the past few weeks. She knocked on the door of Mr Milliard’s room, where the boys Tom’s age were taught.

“Miss Child!” the schoolmaster said when she opened the door. “This is a welcome interruption. Boys, say good afternoon to Miss Child.”

They dutifully intoned a collective salutation and continued with their work.

“Thank you, boys. Mr Milliard, I have Master Baxter here.” She gave him a plaintive look and was pleased when he took her meaning and came to the door to speak to her quietly. “He is very sorry to have skipped his lesson—are you not, Tom?”

The boy nodded and mumbled an assent, though, perhaps wisely, he kept his head down.

“He is fretting at the prospect of being punished for his absence,” Frederica explained.

Mr Milliard looked rather offended and regarded Tom with a frown. “Have you ever seen me punish a boy, Master Baxter?” When Tom did not immediately answer, Mr Milliard said more firmly, “Look at me, now, and tell me. Have you?”

“No, sir.”

“Well then. Let us have no more of this nonsense. Back to your seat, quickly, and we’ll say no more about it.”

Tom hastened back to his chair. Frederica watched him until he had taken up his chalk, then turned to Mr Milliard. “Thank you for your forbearance.”

“Not at all. I am only concerned what you must think of me to have boys missing my lesson and talking of punishments. Might I invite you to stay and watch our lesson to put your mind at rest?”

“Thank you, but I am afraid I have a prior engagement.”

“I ought to have known,” he replied graciously. “You never seem to have a moment’s rest between all the work you do.”

“Oh…it is a personal engagement, sir.”

“Ah! Then I hope you enjoy it.” He smiled knowingly and tapped the side of his nose, as though she had let him into a secret.

Frederica swallowed the compulsion to explain that she was meeting her sisters. Other than Rupert and Mr Mulligan, nobody at Taverstock yet knew about her altered circumstances, and she was anxious that it not be widely known lest everybody respond as they had. She curtseyed and left to fetch her coat.

Adelaide and Scarlett had offered to collect Frederica on their way into Bicester, but she preferred to walk. Too many carriages bearing noble personages had arrived at Taverstock of late, and the March weather was fine enough to make the walk pleasant. She had arranged to meet them at Mrs Tulley’s tearoom. Upon arriving, it occurred to her that perhaps too many noble personages had been there of late, also, for Mrs Tulley stood behind her counter, staring at her illustrious customers, looking fit to keel over with awe.

On this occasion, the Countesses of Kemerton and Worthe had dressed with all the elegance and finery appropriate to their station, and they had been joined by the sartorially impeccable Viscount Oakley. Frederica felt a twinge of pride at the sight of them. Not because of their fine clothes or the veneration of every onlooker, but because they were her family, and they were waiting on her. It was a novel and vastly gratifying sensation.

Oakley stood to greet her when she joined them at their table. “Pray, have a seat. You must be exhausted .”

Frederica sat, though she was puzzled by his words. “Thank you—but no, I am not in the least tired.”

“Pay him no mind,” Adelaide said, waving Oakley into his own seat. “He loathes walking and cannot countenance that anybody else might enjoy it. We would not have brought him, but there was no stopping him once we mentioned there would be cake involved.”

“You know full well I came to see Frederica,” Oakley said with feigned affront. Then he dabbed a few crumbs from his plate and licked them off his fingertip, adding, “If the promise of cake added extra inducement, you will never hear me admit it.”

Frederica chuckled. She was not used to the sort of teasing in which her sisters and cousin seemed to revel and was confident she would never be able to emulate it, but she liked it all the same. “I am pleased to see all of you. I should have been happy to see Kem and Worthe, too, if they had decided to come.”

“Pray, do not think for a moment that they did not want to see you,” Scarlett replied as she poured her a cup of tea. “We just thought to keep it a Richmond confab for today. Although…” she added as she placed the cup in front of Frederica, “I imagine Penrith would not have objected to an invitation.”

The insinuation in her tone brought heat to Frederica’s face. “What do you mean?”

“Come now. You must have noticed his interest in you?”

“In me ? No. He has been extremely helpful in reuniting us, I grant you, but it is only because he regrets the loss to his own family. He told me as much.”

All three of them regarded her with slightly incredulous expressions. “How do you account for his inviting us to dine at Cedarvale?” Adelaide asked.

Frederica shrugged, beginning to feel uncomfortable. “He is a kind man, and you are his friends. He was at Scarlett’s wedding, was he not?”

“We move in the same circles, it is true,” Oakley mused. “But until a few weeks ago, I should have described him as more of a respected acquaintance than a friend .”

“And what of his insistence on sending his carriage for you?” Scarlett pressed.

Frederica swallowed the sip of tea she had just taken and shook her head. “You are making too much of it. Dinner was at his house, so naturally he was the only one of the party who did not need the use of his carriage.”

“Oh, Frederica!” Adelaide said with a little laugh. “We have carriages enough between us to have spared one for you. Penrith sending one of his was more than a mere kindness. ”

“Truly, you are mistaken.” Are they not? If there were anything to see in his behaviour towards her, Frederica was certain she would have seen it—that was her forte. She shook her head again, more decisively. “His Grace is still deeply in mourning for his late wife. Besides, he is a duke, and I am so very plain?—”

“Do not dare say you are plain,” Adelaide interrupted. “You have said it before, and I shall not allow it. You are very pretty!”

“You are generous to say so, but I meant more generally. My clothes, my situation, my accomplishments—I have not had a gentlewoman’s education.”

“You must not imagine that either of us did,” Scarlett said, though she was spoken over by Oakley.

“None of that matters, Frederica. We can buy you all the clothes you need, but the material point is, you are a Richmond. The granddaughter of an earl.”

“That may be so, but I am a Richmond who lives and works at an orphanage.”

Frederica disliked how churlish she sounded, but the prospect of Penrith having affection for her had whipped up all manner of conflicting feelings. Either she was right, and he did not admire her, in which case she would much rather not be tormented with the impossible, or her family were right, and he did , which would make the decision to stay at Taverstock even more miserably difficult, for she would surely forfeit any esteem he might have for her when she refused to leave. Whichever it was, the situation was hopeless. It had been much better when her regard for him had been a private, unremarkable thing without any hint of promise.

Doing her best to maintain a cheerful aspect, she added, “Might we speak of something else?”

“Of course! No more talk of the duke,” Oakley said. Then he cast an expressive look at the twins. “But…we do need to speak to you about the Richmond part.”

Frederica’s forced smile was not proof against the spike of alarm this remark induced. She looked down at her cup to hide her disappointment. “You mean to persuade me to leave Taverstock after all?”

Scarlett placed a hand on her arm. “It is not that, Frederica. It is something else. Something that affects us all.”

“We thought a walk might be nice, once you have finished your tea,” Oakley said.

Frederica looked at him dubiously. “I thought you did not like walking.”

“Walking without a purpose is abhorrent to me, but I have a very good reason to wish to walk somewhere quiet with you today.” He looked nervous—they all did, which in turn made Frederica anxious to know what was afoot that could not be discussed in a busy tearoom.

“I am not thirsty. A walk sounds lovely.”

Conscious of Adelaide’s delicate condition—and Oakley’s apparently poor constitution—Frederica directed them towards King’s End Wood, for it was a less demanding route that would still take them away from the hustle and bustle of the town. Within minutes, they emerged from between the crowded buildings onto a stretch of common land that was dotted with trees and grazing cattle.

“Perfect,” Oakley said with a satisfied sigh. “I shall not keep you in suspense any longer, then, Frederica. Indeed, I can only apologise for having kept you in the dark for this long. There has not been an opportunity to broach the matter before now. Not after Penrith commandeered our first meeting. But never mind that—the thing is, I…that is, there are…I am…dash it! I am not your cousin, Frederica. I am your brother.”

Frederica was not entirely sure she had heard him correctly, but her sisters’ encouraging nods confirmed it. She listened at first with disbelief and then with increasing wonder as Oakley laid out their family’s history—from Robert Richmond’s estrangement and tragic demise to the cruel separation of his orphaned children; from Lord and Lady Tipton’s poignant desire for a child and heir, to the ruse that had fooled the ton for the past two decades.

When he was done, Oakley stopped walking and peered at her expectantly. Always, he was so very eager! Adelaide and Scarlett looked on with more obvious concern, but Oakley appeared only to be waiting for confirmation that she was as delighted as he, the expression in his eyes as kindly and hopeful as ever. It was touching, and Frederica did not wish to disappoint him, though she was rather too surprised to think of a meaningful reply.

“Goodness,” she said at length. “And I thought I had been concealing a lot all these years. ”

Oakley gave a bark of laughter. “And I am sorry to say that you must continue to conceal it—at all costs. Else it will all have been for nothing. You do comprehend that, do you not? If our uncle Damian were to find out that he is the true heir, it would all be lost.”

Frederica gave her word that she understood, and he nodded—and was almost solemn for a moment or two. Then he clapped his hands together loudly and set off walking again. “And so, I must content myself with being your cousin in public, but you will know the truth that only our family knows. We three, our brothers Kem and Worthe, Lord and Lady Tipton, and Lady Tipton’s sister, Lady Carbrooke—and a very few trusted servants—are the only people alive who know that I am your older brother.”

It made sense, now, that he had insisted on inserting himself into all Frederica’s conversations with the twins. And that he had raced to Avonwyke with as much haste as Scarlett to meet her. And—now that she thought about it…

“Was it our mother, then, who gave you three such striking eyes?”

Scarlett and Adelaide nodded. Frederica felt a pang of sadness to be the odd one out, though she told herself not to be absurd.

“Would you like to know what our father gave us?” Oakley asked, grinning. He did not wait for her to reply before answering his own question. “A small fortune. It turns out he set up a successful brewery after he eloped. His share of the proceeds has been held in trust since his death. And you, Sister, own a quarter of it.”

“I have my own money?”

“You do! Or at least, you will, when you come of age.”

“Then I can afford to stay at Taverstock forever?” Frederica exclaimed, as a wave of relief washed over her.

The whole party stopped walking and stared at her in confusion.

“I have always worried that I would one day be obliged to leave,” she explained, breathless in her excitement. “I am only given a nominal stipend—not enough to save for the future. I feared at some point I would need to find other work, but I wanted so dearly to stay—and now I can!”

They continued to stare, and Frederica realised abruptly that it was not confusion creasing their brows; it was dismay. “Unless…well, that is, unless Lord Tipton disinherits me.”

“Disinherits you?” Adelaide repeated, now very much puzzled.

“If he does not consent to me staying—if I oppose his wishes to do so—I suppose he might…cut me off?”

“Our uncle will not disown you, no matter what you decide,” Scarlett said gently. “There is no doubt that he would rather see you returned to Chiltern Court, but he would never repeat his father’s mistakes. Losing his brother is the greatest regret of his life.”

“But in any case, it is not up to him,” Adelaide added, glancing briefly at Oakley. “The money is yours to do with as you choose as soon as you turn one-and-twenty. Until then, our father stipulated in his will that our older brother should have control of it.”

Frederica looked at Oakley; he grinned broadly. “I am your legal guardian. And I could not disinherit you if I wished to, because Adelaide would run me through if I so much as hinted at it.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Scarlett said, “He is not exaggerating. That is how our dear, sweet sister responded when he first suggested they might be related—by stabbing him with a letter opener.”

Another slight pause was followed by a burst of hilarity from all four of them. A vastly diverting account of Oakley and Adelaide’s first rendezvous followed, the telling of which revealed that, while Frederica had not been blessed with her mother’s eyes, she did possess the same uneven toes as her brother.

Time quite ran away with them after that, and they walked and talked for far longer than any of them had planned. Only when Adelaide conceded defeat and begged to be allowed to sit down did they return to Market Square. This time, Frederica accepted their offer to take her home in their carriage. It had been a whirlwind of an afternoon, and she returned to Taverstock exhausted and still shocked, but more hopeful for her future than she had ever dared allow herself to be before.