The Foundling (Rags to Richmonds #3)

Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

S carlett and Adelaide were every bit as sympathetic to Frederica’s misery as Oakley had been, though at her request, the matter was touched on but lightly. She simply could not bring herself to dwell on it. She wanted to—dearly. Who better, after all, to share the excitement of a first kiss with than one’s sisters? Yet every mention of Penrith brought with it the memory of his confusion and pain as she begged him to leave, and the shame of it was overpowering. Frederica had devoted her life to looking after people; hurting somebody she loved was the worst feeling she had ever known.

The twins insisted upon the three of them travelling in the same carriage to Chiltern Court, informing the gentlemen that they must decide amongst themselves who would travel with whom—as long as it was not with them. The arrangement proved to be precisely the balm Frederica’s battered spirits needed. Unlike Oakley’s generous-hearted but occasionally overwhelming talkativeness, Scarlett and Adelaide felt no compunction to fill the journey with chatter. They made the occasional observation as to their whereabouts en route, and a few gentle enquiries as to Frederica’s anticipated wardrobe requirements—but for the most part, miles and miles passed by during which nothing was said by anyone.

Their party took a light luncheon at Newport Pagnell while the horses were baited, but it was not a leisurely stop. Oakley left the parlour several times to check on the horses and hasten the dawdling servants. After his third visit to the stables, he announced with great energy that it was time to depart, and then nothing would do but for them to leave what was left of their food and hasten to their carriages.

“It is because Chiltern Court is the family seat,” Scarlett explained as they made their way outside. “He is excessively proud of it—and excessively fond of you . He wants to take you home.”

“He was the same with both of us, when we first came to the family,” Adelaide said as she climbed into the carriage first.

“He is a better brother than I could ever have dared hope for,” Frederica said, following Adelaide inside. As she twisted around to sit next to her sister, her back—and the new tender spot on it—brushed against the door frame, making her wince and suck in her breath.

“What is wrong?” Adelaide asked, all concern.

“Oh…n-nothing,” she stammered.

Scarlett climbed up last and took her place opposite them both in the front-facing seat. “It did not look like nothing.”

Adelaide fixed Frederica with a hard stare that did not waver even when a footman slammed the door shut. “I am coming to learn something about you, Frederica—that you are an exceedingly poor liar. You are altogether too earnest to fool anybody. What pained you, and more to the point, why do you not want to tell us about it?”

Frederica felt herself redden. “I have a bruise,” she admitted grudgingly. “And I did not want to tell you about it because…well, it no longer matters, for he has gone.”

Scarlett gasped, and Adelaide’s temper flared. “Somebody hurt you? Who? When?”

The carriage jolted into motion and over the clatter of the wheels, Frederica said reluctantly, “It was one of the schoolmasters. It happened the day after the ball, although I did not realise that I had a bruise until I saw it in the mirror in my room at Avonwyke last night.”

“One of the schoolmasters!” Scarlett cried. “This is awful ! Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No.”

“That is a relief but hardly makes it better.”

“Indeed not!” Adelaide agreed. “If Oakley had known you were in physical danger, he would not have agreed to your staying at the orphanage a second longer!”

“I was not in danger—this has never happened before.”

“Why did it happen this time?”

Frederica looked down at her lap, unhappy to be giving the incident any consideration at all, for she would far sooner forget ever knowing Mr Milliard. “He was drunk, and when I tried to prevent him from going near the children, he shoved me into a cupboard door. I think I must have caught my shoulder blade on the handle.”

Adelaide exhaled furiously. “The brute!”

Frederica put a hand on her sister’s knee and said urgently, “ Please do not excite yourself. It would not be good for your baby—and Mr Milliard is certainly not worth your energy. Besides, he cannot hurt me again, for he has left Taverstock now.”

“Arrested, I hope!” Scarlett said angrily.

Frederica shook her head. “No—disappeared. He did not come back again after… this , and when the governors sent someone to see what had become of him, it turned out he had left his lodgings, too.”

“I should think he was too ashamed to show his face again,” Scarlett replied. “But Frederica, why did you not tell us about this?”

“Truly, it has not been uppermost in my mind—so much else has happened these past few days.” She paused, then sighed resignedly and added, “And I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” Adelaide exclaimed, showing no sign of trying to remain calm for her baby’s sake. “What had you to be embarrassed about? The man sounds like a monster!”

“Well, that is the crux of it. He is a monster, who, it transpires, has been beating the boys from the moment he started working at Taverstock—and I was oblivious to it. I, whose purpose in life was to protect those children!”

“Dearest Frederica?—”

“Worse, I was his greatest advocate! I listened to his stories, I ignored any word that the children said against him, I thought his every kind word was genuinely meant. I even believed him when he said he had known my mother. He told me I looked like her, and I was so desperate for it to be true that I fell for it. Of course, I know now that he only said it to make me like him. So yes, I am embarrassed. I am mortified by my own credulity.”

“You must not be,” Adelaide said. “This is what men do when they want to…you know. When they want favours. They can be very convincing.”

“You misunderstand,” Frederica said. “Mr Milliard was not a young man. He was fifty if he was a day.”

Adelaide shrugged ruefully. “Men are not generally concerned with their own age—only ours.”

Scarlett affected a shiver, but Frederica remained unconvinced. Mr Milliard had never given the impression that his interest tended that way. “Whatever his motivations, he is gone, and I beg you would not mention it to anyone,” she said. “He is no longer at Taverstock, so there is no benefit in anybody knowing about what happened. And I should not like Oakley or Lord Tipton to have any reason to oppose my return.” She knew it was slightly absurd to still be clinging to the idea of going back—and if she had not known it, the turn of her sisters’ countenances would have made it clear—yet she could not quite bring herself to burn all her bridges before she had even made it safely to the other bank.

Scarlett gave Frederica a pitying look. “You really have had the most hideous week. Let us talk of happier things. What say we tell you some more about Chiltern Court, so it does not feel quite so strange when you arrive?”

Frederica was grateful for the change of subject, though it did not escape her notice that neither of her sisters had made the promise she asked of them. She did not quibble. If one of them had been hurt, she would likely not keep it from Oakley, either. Hoping that, at the very least, the matter could be set aside for the remainder of the day, she listened to the twins’ descriptions with relish. They told her of the great marble hall that had made Adelaide feel so out of place on her first visit, but in which Kem had first fallen in love with her. They told her about the stillroom where their father had brewed his first ales as a young man. They told her that her namesake’s portrait hung on the wall in the main staircase.

“It is one of the first things you will see when you arrive,” Scarlett said. “You will not believe our resemblance to her. It is quite remarkable.”

They were not wrong , Frederica thought later as she looked up at the slightly older, slightly plumper, bewigged replica of the twins. They had made good time on the last part of the journey, arriving earlier than expected. As the party handed their coats and hats over to the waiting footmen behind her, Frederica had wandered to the foot of the stairs, curious to see how accurate the description of the late Lady Frederica Tipton had been—and the likeness was indeed uncanny.

“Oakley!” came a booming voice. “Your mother and I did not expect you so soon! And this must be our youngest niece.”

With a rush of apprehension, Frederica turned around, her eyes leaving one facsimile only to settle directly upon another, this one in the flesh. She recoiled with a gasp before she could help it, then clamped her mouth closed and winced in embarrassment. On second glance, this man—Lord Tipton, she presumed—was not so very similar to the one he had briefly reminded her of. He was a little older, considerably stockier, and was leaning heavily on a cane. Whereas the other man, the last time she had seen him, had been shoving her virulently against the store cupboard door.

Scarlett gripped her arm in two places as though fearing she might swoon. “Frederica? Whatever is the matter?”

“Forgive me,” she said, her cheeks aflame. “I meant no offence. It is only that he looks just like Mr Milliard. It startled me…given recent events.”

She had hoped this explanation might mitigate her incivility, but it only succeeded in making his lordship exceedingly angry. His gaze sharpened, and every hint of softness left his expression. “What did you say?”

“Forgive me, my lord, I did not mean?—”

“No, I insist. What name did you just give? Who did you say looks like me?”

“My dear, please. It is a coincidence, I am sure.” An older lady, handsome despite her years and gently spoken, came forwards. “Frederica, I am Lady Tipton—your aunt Louisa. You are very welcome to Chiltern Court.”

Frederica smiled and curtseyed—both shakily. “Thank you. I am truly very sorry if I have offended either of you.”

“Frederica was the target of a violent outburst from this man, Mr Milliard, a few days ago,” Scarlett whispered quietly to her ladyship. “That is why she was scared.”

As with Frederica’s attempt to explain, Scarlett’s also seemed only to worsen matters. Lady Tipton looked horrified. “Violent? Has he injured you?”

“Injured? Has someone hurt Frederica?” Oakley said, catching her words. “Who?”

“One of the schoolmasters at the orphanage,” Adelaide said with a placating gesture towards him and an apologetic glance at Frederica. When he instantly began to puff up with indignation, she added hastily, “But all is well. We do not need to discuss that now .”

“On the contrary,” Lord Tipton said darkly. “It sounds as though we need to discuss it as a matter of the utmost urgency.” He came towards Frederica, his cane tapping loudly on the marble floor, and made a small bow. “Frederica, my dear. We have been anxious to meet you. You are every bit as welcome as your aunt says, and I hope you will be very comfortable with us. But for reasons that will become clear, I am afraid I must insist that you tell me about this schoolmaster who you say looks like me. You are injured, you say?”

“Barely, my lord. Only a bruise on my shoulder.”

He nodded sadly. “I am profoundly sorry to hear that, but I am heartened to discover that you share your sisters’ resilience. Perhaps, if you are well enough, we might have some refreshments in the saloon while we talk?” He smiled a concerned but genuine smile; his face around his eyes wrinkled kindly, and Frederica recognised not one but two people in his familiar visage: Mr Milliard and Oakley. Her heart began to race as a most disagreeable prospect occurred to her.

“Is your lordship acquainted with Mr Milliard?”

Her uncle exhaled heavily. “That remains to be seen. But I am familiar with the name. It is the alias my brother Damian always used when he wished to remain anonymous.”

“Damian?” Kem and Oakley exclaimed together, both equally aghast.

“Damian?” Scarlett and Adelaide both echoed—more quietly but no less alarmed.

Frederica closed her eyes. ‘I shall get what I am owed!’ Those had been the words Mr Milliard spat at her—the words she had not understood at the time. She wanted to weep as the awful truth settled over her like a lead weight. As if it were not enough that she had let Taverstock’s children down and broken Penrith’s heart, there was every chance she had now wrought catastrophe upon her new family as well, by allowing herself to be the dupe of the true Tipton heir.