Keep No Secrets, page 6
Lola looked at the joyful chaos with a tear in her eye. The threatening tears weren’t only a symptom of emotions that had been more tumultuous than usual lately. No, they were tears of pride. She’d bought the Home for Ruined and Useless Children outright almost as soon as she’d learned of it. She’d dismissed the entire board of trustees, changed the odious name to Hawthorne House, and hired the Becketts. Mr. Beckett was the son of a marquess and a woman who was not the marquess’s wife. Who had sired Mrs. Beckett was anyone’s guess, not that Lola cared or even needed to know.
When she’d taken ownership of Hawthorne House, the Becketts and the children had been the only thing good about the place. They were both kind, intelligent, talented people.
And Mr. Beckett was being stampeded.
“Children!” Lola yelled above the din.
Twenty-four heads swung her way and chaos gave way to silence.
She smiled. “Do please let Mr. Beckett breathe.”
“Yes, Aunt Lola,” the children intoned.
“Very good.” She turned to Mrs. Beckett. “Do they often mob your husband?”
“Quite often. He enjoys it, as do they.”
“Well, then I suppose it’s all right.”
They approached the members of the Scandalous London Ladies. “I’m sorry to abandon you all,” Lola said. “I have not been feeling well.”
Nora’s eyebrows lowered into an almost imperceptible scowl.
“Are you enjoying yourselves?” Lola inquired.
“It’s quite the education,” Lady Diana said, her eyes wide.
“Indeed,” Lady Rigsby said. “Are all of these children—”
“Ah, ah!” Mrs. Beckett interrupted her. “We try not to speak of the children in front of them.”
Lady Rigsby’s cheeks brightened. “Oh, of course! My apologies.”
Lola waved away the young woman’s concern. “We can speak later, Henrietta. But now we must attend to the children. That is why we have come.”
Mrs. Beckett nodded enthusiastically. “They do so enjoy visitors. It is usually their time for reading, but because of your visit today, we’ve allowed them free time to do as they please, as you like, Lady Beckingham.”
Lola turned to the ladies. “I like to get to know the children, what they like to do. I learn more about them if they choose their own activities while I’m here.”
Willow nodded. “Brilliant. Bax will be so fascinated. Aunt Lola, may one volunteer their time as well as offer financial assistance at Hawthorne House?”
Lola nodded, incapable of words with so much emotion lodged in her chest.
The young women dispersed into the crowd of children. Willow sat next to a quiet girl with an embroidery hook. Diana knelt to speak with a small boy whose pockets seemed to be bulging with frogs, and Henrietta and Nora cooed over a baby being rocked by a nurse.
Lola’s gaze stuck on the infant, its pudgy hand reaching up out of its swaddling. “The baby is new. Why is she here?” Lola asked Mrs. Beckett, her voice low and toneless. She did not know the story of every child whose family did not want them. If she knew them all, her heart would be too heavy for everyday use. But this she needed to know.
“The little girl was not thriving. And she looks different. Is developing slower than an infant her age should.”
Lola nodded. “Is she thriving now?”
“She’s doing better with people who love her.”
“Who are the parents?”
“A baron and baroness up north.”
Lola clenched her teeth. “Discarded because she is not perfect. What is her name?”
“She didn’t have one when the footman dropped her off. Mr. Beckett landed on Cherry. I think he fell a little bit in love the first time he saw her.” Mrs. Beckett spoke with a wistful smile at her husband, who was showing a young girl who Lola knew did not speak how to pluck the strings of his violin to make a simple song.
“Do you see these women I’ve brought to you?” Lola said, tearing her eyes from the baby.
Mrs. Beckett nodded.
“They are half my age and will keep this place when I no longer can. You can trust them. With their piles of money and big hearts, in fact, we may even be able to buy a second house for all our children. You and Mr. Beckett must keep your eyes open for someone to run it.”
Mrs. Beckett’s eyes gleamed. “We don’t meet many people out here. Once you find someone in London send them here, and we’ll train them up.”
“Yes. Excellent plan.” Lola nodded.
“And then …”
“Yes, Mrs. Beckett? It’s not like you to pause. Do be bold.”
“And then we wish to buy Hawthorne House from you.”
Lola turned an astonished face toward the woman she considered a friend. Mrs. Beckett’s pretty face was firm, serious. “You are not joking. No, of course not. I’ve not known you to joke much in our acquaintanceship.”
“I’ve not had reason to, no.”
“Your husband has money from his father, I know, but—”
“He has quite a bit from his father but has insisted on ignoring it. I do not blame him. It’s bad money from a bad place. But I’ve convinced him not to let it go to waste. We can use money made in evil ways to help others. We want to own the house.”
It took Lola no time to answer. “Of course.” She wanted to hug her friend but did not know if it would be welcome. The woman was striking a business deal. She’d not undermine that. “When you are ready, I will have the documents drawn up.”
“You’ll not give us a special price, I hope.”
“Of course not, Mrs. Beckett! Business is business!”
Mrs. Beckett smiled then, a genuine, face-splitting grin. “Thank you, Lady Beckingham.”
“You have nothing to thank me for, I’m sure.” Lola sniffed. “You succeed on your own merits.”
“I must tell Mr. Beckett. He’ll be elated. But first, tell me how your husband feels about the baby.”
Lola blinked several times. “He’s never met Cherry.”
“Not that baby, your baby.”
“I’m not—” But she could not finish the sentence. She was no longer sure it was the truth.
“No one is supposed to know yet, then. I understand. I do not wish to have children myself. Not yet, at least. But my sister, she prayed and prayed for a child, and when one came, she told everyone, spread her joy around the world. And then she lost it.” Mrs. Beckett’s face fell, but she nodded slowly and lifted her eyes to Lola’s once more. “But a year later she conceived again. And again, she could not stop herself from telling others. My niece is five years of age now, and healthy and happy as a sparrow.”
“A lovely story.”
Mrs. Beckett clasped Lola’s hand warmly. “It’s okay to be happier than you are afraid. Or perhaps I misspeak, and you are not with child.” She shrugged. “I saw many a girl conceive when I was on the streets. But that was long ago now. Perhaps I’ve forgotten.”
Lola tried to wave her friend’s words away, she tried to form, once more, the words to deny it. But she, too, had heard of women her age conceiving for the first time before, and lately everyone around her seemed to have a similar tale to relate, as if everyone in the world were trying to tell her the same thing. She pulled away and retreated from the room. In the quiet, stillness of the hall she took several shaky breaths.
Mrs. Beckett joined her, standing silently by, waiting.
Lola lifted her face to Molly Beckett’s sharp, dark eyes. “I might be,” she whispered, allowing herself for the first time to acknowledge the possibility. “I might be. Oh God, Molly, I might be.”
“You’re shaking, Lola.”
“Yes. I’m sorry.” She pulled herself up straight. “I mustn’t let the girls see me like this.”
“They would not, I believe, think less of you.”
“Perhaps not. But not a one of them has a good mother, and someone must show them how to be real women.”
Mrs. Beckett nodded. “Tea?”
“I think so.” Not only did she need to settle her nerves, but she needed time to think. A week ago, Nathan had exploded at her, accused her of sleeping with another man, accused her of being with child. They’d settled everything and forgiven one another and, in one week—sooner, he’d assured her before leaving—when he returned to London, they were to carry on as usual, days spent in lively conversation and battles of wits and nights spent in one another’s arms. It was the life she loved.
But what if he was right about the babe? Would they be able to go back to the old life? Or would he accuse her, once more, of duplicity?
Chapter 7
Before the sun pulled back the black drapes of a dreary dawn sky, Lola swept into Nora’s bedroom and poked the still-sleeping girl with her cane.
Nora bolted upright, arms and legs flailing, hair a Medusa’s snake nest. “Ack!” She searched wildly about the room for what woke her, clutching her heart and breathing heavy. “Aunt Lola! You terrified me.”
“Get dressed, if you please.”
Nora peered out the window. “It’s still dark outside. What is there to do but sleep at this time of day?”
Lola wanted to keep the truth to herself, but it would be unfair to her niece. “A doctor’s visit.”
Concern replaced sleepiness in Nora’s eyes. “Are you unwell?” She rubbed her eyes and yawned, then grumbled, “I knew it! Yesterday at Hawthorne House you looked ready to collapse. You have done for weeks now, Aunt Lola. Since before Uncle Nathan left.” She yawned.
“Thank you for the compliment.” Lola reached out her cane and pulled the covers away from Nora’s shift-clad form. “Up, up. I’ll help you dress. I’ll explain in the carriage.”
The girl spilled from bed slowly, like wax dripping from a candle, rummaged through her trunks, and came up with a simple green day dress. Lola helped button the back after she’d slipped into it and then pinned her hair in a simple knot at her neck. They worked in silence, but as they climbed into a hired hackney together, and Nora’s face disappeared into the shadows of an ill-lit corner, Lola found courage. “I’ve hired a hack because I do not want people talking. We’re to see Dr. Smith because I think I may be with child.”
“Oh!” Nora leaned slowly out of the shadows, her mouth hung open, her eyes wide, joy dancing in her features. She almost bounced up and down on her seat. “Oh, wonderful!”
“Hm.” It didn’t feel wonderful. She wasn’t sure how it felt. Nauseating, truthfully.
“What does Uncle Nathan say? Have you told him yet?”
“It was Nathan who brought my attention to it.” She didn’t have to say how he brought her attention to it. “And no, I’ve not sent word. I want to be sure first.”
“Yes, of course.” Nora settled back into her corner, arms crossed over her chest thoughtfully, a small smile playing about her lips. “How lovely,” she sighed.
The corner of Lola’s mouth twitched. Yes, it could very well be lovely. She wouldn’t let herself dream about it yet, though. It was easier to lock emotions away. The last time she’d let herself hope, she’d lost the child. She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed the lump of emotion. Best to think of something else.
“Have I ever told you how I met your uncle?” Lola asked, studying the rolling world outside the window.
Nora looked stunned. “No. I don’t think you have. Why haven’t you? I must know now! Come, tell the story.”
“It was during your mother’s first season. She’d yet to meet your father, and I had yet to meet anyone. I didn’t have a season myself, of course.” She gestured to her leg, the cane. A clubfoot and riotous red hair did not make one an acceptable product for the marriage mart. “I’d wanted to stay in the country, but my father had heard of a new treatment for my condition, and he wished me to try it. Every day was a torment then. The leg braces I wore were more like torture devices that twisted my foot past the point of tolerable pain.”
She never spoke of this. Why should she? The pain was in the past, but even so, she spoke without looking at Nora to see how she reacted. “The new doctor in London told me and my father he would cut the back of my ankle, releasing the tension in my ankle and allowing me to walk normally. I asked him how many he had cured this way, and he would not look me in the eye as he attempted to reassure me it was all fine. ‘Don’t have hysterics, little girl,’ he’d said. But I knew then he would cut me, and it would not work. I suspected I would end up worse than before.”
“Oh, Aunt Lola,” Nora whispered.
“I found my way to Hyde Park in order to have a good cry, and instead I found Nathan, pacing near the Serpentine and mumbling about another landscape designer.” Lola smiled, remembering his rumpled hair, his handsome face, unlined and smiling in youth. “My curiosity distracted me from my tears, and I demanded to know what he meant. You know Nathan and his plants. I was riveted by his passion. I showed him my foot. Right there in the park. It was the first brazen thing I’d ever done in my life.”
“What did he say? When he saw?”
Lola closed her eyes to better relive the memory. The words flowed back to her as naturally as air. “‘The flowers that grow crooked are exquisite because they are unique. I think you have a perfect pair of stems, and I’d be distinctly distressed if they were cut.’”
“Swoon, Aunt Lola! Did you marry him on the spot?”
“I fell in love on the spot. I eloped with him the night before the corrective procedure was to be done.” And since then, she’d never let anyone hurt her. Nathan certainly had never done so.
Until the other day in the hothouse. She shook her head. She was over the shocking argument. When he returned, they would be like new.
The carriage rolled to a stop and Lola peeked out the window at the doctor’s residence. Would they be like new? Or would their lives be entirely different? If the doctor told her what she suspected to be true, life would never be the same again.
And wasn’t that a good thing?
Nora bounced out of the hackney, a mass of excited energy. “Oh, it’s perfect. A delicious love story and a now a miracle baby!”
Lola stayed put. Miracle baby? Her chest tightened and her fingers gripped the edge of the seat. What was she doing here? She’d been in this place so many times before, but the hope, the promise had never fully bloomed. She was barren, for God’s sake, had known so for years.
Nora poked her head back in the hackney. “Aren’t you coming?”
“No, I don’t think so. Let’s go back.”
“Don’t be a ninny. You’re a Scandalous London Lady, the original SLL, in fact. Barrel forward or barrel not at all. Isn’t that what you always say? And besides, it’s not like possibly being pregnant with your beloved husband’s child is scandalous.” She reached for Lola’s arm and hauled her out of the conveyance. “There. Now.” She looked left then right down the street. “Where are we again? And where does this doctor reside?”
Lola clenched her skirts in one hand and her cane in the other. Even if she were pregnant, she’d likely lose the child soon. She pointed to the house directly in front of them. “Right there.”
“Oh. Good.” Nora headed toward the stoop, but Lola snagged her hand and pulled her tight to her side.
“Together,” Lola said, avoiding Nora’s inquisitive gaze.
“Certainly.” The younger girl let Lola lean on her without another word. Nora knocked on the door at the top of the steps and they waited. And waited. The sky turned deep blue then purple and pink as they waited. “Maybe we should come back at another time,” Nora suggested.
Lola knocked again, louder this time, then banged against the door with her cane.
The door swung open violently. “What do you want! Do you know how deuced early it is?”
“Dr. Smith, good morning.” Lola pushed past him and into the house, barreling forward like a woman who knew how.
“Lady Beckingham?”
“And my niece, Miss Cavendish.”
Nora smiled blindingly at the doctor. “You have not met me, though I’ve been in London several months, because I’m in impeccable health and always have been.”
Dr. Smith blinked at the two women. “Do either of you have any idea of the time?” He shook his head. “Is your leg well, my lady?”
No point in dawdling. One couldn’t dawdle and barrel at the same time. “I think I may be pregnant.”
He blinked some more.
“Dr. Smith,” said Nora. “Do you have something in your eye?”
“No, ah, it’s ah, Lady Beckingham, you can’t be pregnant. You are barren. Of course when your husband visited a few weeks back, I thought …” He scratched his head. “But since you did not call for me after, I assumed …” He shrugged, as if his explanation was clear as day.
Lola raised an eyebrow and pinned him with a glance. “Yes, Nathan was suspicious. But I was convinced it could not be true. I am not so convinced now. I’ve not had my courses in over two months and for the last several weeks I’ve felt quite ill.”
“Ah. Well, it could be any number of things.”
“And a doctor of your talents will be able to figure out which of any number of things it could be, including pregnancy. Thus, the reason I am here.”
“Yes, but”—he looked out the open door—“the time.”
“Does your prowess lessen before the day has fully dawned?” Lola inquired, tilting her head to the side.
“No, of course not, but—”
“Oh good!” Nora shut the front door. “Then we’ll know why my aunt is feeling ill in no time. Lovely of you to help us, Doctor.”
“Lovely of you to do your job, Doctor,” Lola grumbled. It was unfair of her, though. She’d given him no warning, simply showed up on his doorstep before the sun had turned the sky yellow.
“I heard that, my lady,” Dr. Smith grumbled back. “Fine, come along, the both of you. We’ll see what we can find out.” He led them into a small sitting room and gestured for them to sit. “You’re not getting any tea at this hour. My housekeeper would have my head if I interrupted her morning routine. Now, tell me everything. When did you last experience your courses?”
