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Story: A Gentleman’s Reckoning (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #3)
Chapter Twenty-Three
I t was odd, Geny thought, this period of mourning she was in. She knew what grief was, having mourned the loss of her mother for a lengthy stretch of time, longer than any formal observances called for. When one has gone through such a trial, one understood that only time would bring relief. Only the passage of time would allow one to smile again, or to appreciate all of the bright things life had to offer. Things that tempted a person to wish to remain on this side of the living. Now, here she was mourning again, but this time it was grieving the death of a relationship she had hoped to see blossom and flourish, one that would endure for the rest of her life.
The only thing different in this, she noted, was that in mourning the death of a relationship, it was impossible to lay the hope to rest. It added an additional layer of suffering because one could not tamp down the longing for what might have been—the wistfulness. Such a thing was absent in the finality of a physical death, for there, hope and longing were buried along with the loved one. But this purposeful burying of hope by heeding her mind and ignoring her heart was hard to endure. She quite thought its effects would be felt for a long time.
Geny went to the orphanage every day now, explaining to a confused Gabriel and Timothy that the steward had had urgent family business to attend to that would prevent him from returning. She could not bear for John’s name to be tainted in their eyes in any way, even though she should not have cared about his good name at all. She wrote to Mr. Peyton to ask that another steward be found, stating the same reasons.
Mr. Dowling’s bruise around his eye had begun to heal, and if there was any benefit to all that had happened with John, it was that Mr. Dowling now sought to avoid her at all costs. She was unsurprised when, after a week of his skirting her presence, a letter of resignation was left for her on her desk. Mr. Dowling did not return. Of course that meant there were now two positions to fill, and this gave Geny something to occupy her mind, as she and Mrs. Hastings sought to keep a steady routine in place for the orphans.
Her father came home one day earlier than expected and, rather than waiting until chance put them together, he sent word through the servants that he wished to see her.
It was an odd feeling, for she could no longer idolize her father in the same way she once did. She still loved him, she supposed. After all, he was her father. But she was deeply disappointed and hurt on her mother’s behalf; and as far as his worldly reputation was concerned, all respect for who he was had evaporated.
If only he had not set himself up to be so pious, to have her then discover he cheated his friends and cheated on his wife, likely killing her in the process from an overmastering grief. Geny couldn’t help but look differently upon Gabriel now, knowing what she knew. But she decided it was not her place to tell him who his father was. She would disclose it to neither Gabriel nor Matthew, but it made her determined to see Gabriel settled and in a good position. He was, after all, her half brother, even though he was not her mother’s son.
She appeared in her father’s study, from all outward appearances calm and collected. She assumed he wished to speak to her once again about having breached his space. He had been right in his rebuke, but the information that she had learned during her trespass left Geny with an ambivalent attitude. She no longer longed for his approval.
“How do you know Mr. Aubin?” Her father was standing by his desk, his expression unusually severe.
This was the one question she had not expected, and it left her feeling exposed. “Why, I knew Mr. Aubin at the orphanage. He was acting as steward there.”
“The steward hired for the foundling asylum was a man by the name of Mr. Rowles. I specifically remember Mr. Peyton informing me of that.”
Geny lifted her chin. “That was the name of his birth father. Aubin is the name of his stepfather who adopted him. His purpose there was to look for ways to expose you, Father. He wished to regain the reputation he lost when you had him shunned from society.”
“And I suppose you support him in that endeavor?” her father asked severely.
“Of course I do not. He and I are no longer in contact. Once I found out he was there under an assumed name, I told him to leave. However, while he was there, we worked together for the good of the orphans and became friends.”
“Friends?” her father said with heavy irony. “He announced that he loves you. You must have been more than friends.”
It was as though a sudden roaring in Geny’s ears prevented her father’s words from reaching her right away. When they did, she felt as though the blood had drained out of her upper body and pooled at her feet, all while her heart soared through her chest. Her words could only come out in a whisper .
“When did he tell you that? When did you see him?”
Her father looked down at his desk and closed the open ledger with an audible thump , revealing a glimpse of his anger.
“He had the audacity to come to the mill that I’m building in Manchester. I saw him there. You may be sure that I gave him orders to stay away from you.”
“Father, while I do not support his having deceived me, or his efforts to expose you, any decision of whom I see or whom I marry is entirely up to me. I am of age.”
“You had better rid yourself of that modern notion,” her father snapped, all vestige of control gone. She was seeing him thus for the first time. “You will have nothing from me if you marry him—and what is worse, you will not see Matthew again.”
Geny didn’t care about her financial prosperity, but she did care about Matthew, and she did not doubt that her father would put his threat into action. Any hope that had arisen in learning that John loved her dissipated with the threat of losing Matthew, and in its place—bleakness. The silence between them grew loud.
Until she rebelled. No! She would not allow her father to blackmail her.
“You have deceived my mother and have very likely deceived investors. You have all the appearance of goodness, and yet your actions speak otherwise.” Geny paused only to catch her breath. “But even if that is so, I do not believe you would do this to me or to Matthew. I do not believe you would sink so low as to tear apart a brother and sister who share not only blood ties, but also those of affection.”
She turned on her heels and left her father’s office without waiting for his reply.
Geny and her father did not see each other again that week, except for a brief encounter one morning when they both started toward the breakfast room at the same time. She turned and went back to her room. Charity informed her soon afterward that the earl had gone to his club, taking his valet with him. Despite that the house would once again be silent, it would be better than walking on tenterhooks.
Margery had been coming more often to see how she was faring, even if it meant she had little time to dress for her evenings out with her mother, and now Mr. Thompson. This time she threw down her bonnet and sat beside Geny on the sofa, scarcely waiting until the butler left the room. Her expression was filled with concern.
“I came to find out if you have heard the news. I am afraid you might not have, since you’ve been keeping to your house.”
“What news?” Geny knew Margery enough to know she would not bring her some ordinary gossip, for she understood that Geny was not interested in such things. This must be something else.
“Your father has been ruined by scandal.” Margery’s eyes were worried. She reached out for Geny’s hand. “He is being talked about in all the circles. I am sorry. I only know this because Mr. Thompson told me. He knows how important you are to me, and you may trust that it was with great reluctance that he shared the news with me.”
Geny had only thought about her father’s iniquity in terms of how it affected their family—her mother. But now, it seemed the whole world must know about it. She sat, frozen in place.
John must have had his way, then. He must have discovered evidence that was damning enough to expose my father. Despite the cold relationship she had had with her father lately, she did not wish him ill. And she wished to break down in tears at the idea that John had been the author of such revenge. He had told her father he loved her, but it must not have meant enough.
“What have you heard? What has transpired?” she asked as soon as she found her voice.
“It was the Duke of Rigsby who exposed him. I don’t know who told him, but he discovered that your father had been encouraging his son to invest in one of his schemes, only to find out that the money had been misappropriated. Mr. Thompson heard that the duke’s public rebuke caused the earl to leave White’s in a cloud of shame.”
“Oh, heavens.” Geny sank her face into her hands, a little sorry for her father but trembling with relief that it had not been John who had exposed him. Then she remembered her brother who was his heir and looked up again. “I only hope this does not affect Matthew at school. Boys can be cruel.”
“I hope so indeed.” Margery was quiet for a moment, then hugged her. “The sins of the father should not be brought upon the son, but sometimes it is unavoidable. And Matthew is such a pure-hearted child, I am sure he will rise above any gossip, especially with a sister who has so much integrity.”
Geny did not answer—she could not. It seemed nothing in her life could possibly be any bleaker, and she was grateful to have at least one true friend.
An unusually long silence settled between them—longer than ever occurred when they were together. After a while, Margery started wiggling her foot in its slipper, a sign that she had something else to say.
“What is it?” Geny asked. She needed the distraction, and it surely could not be anything worse than what she had heard so far.
“Mr. Thompson said that Mr. Aubin has returned to London. He ran into him by chance.”
Geny looked at her in surprise, irritated at the darts of happiness that poked at her from the news. “Where did they meet?”
“On St. James’s Street. Apparently there is a club there by the name of Blackstone’s.” Margery had a gleam of humor in her eyes, adding, “Mr. Thompson learned that it is a club for members who have been blackballed from the other more prestigious ones.”
“Such a club exists?” Geny asked. “I have never heard of it.”
“I imagine it is not the sort of thing that its members spread about. Anyway, Mr. Thompson saw him about to enter, and because they recognized each other, they stopped to exchange civilities. I think…I think Mr. Thompson greeted him first, because he knows of his connection with the asylum—and you.”
She glanced at Geny as though wishing to reassure her. “Of course he was ever so discreet, so you needn’t worry that he would say anything of a confidential nature. Anyway, Mr. Aubin said that he had just returned to London the day before and was renting a room in the club, for he would not be staying in London for long. Then they bid farewell. Mr. Thompson said it was the extent of their conversation.”
Geny pondered this for a moment, then slid her hand over to clasp Margery’s. “John had traveled north. I know this only because he went to visit the mill that my father is having built, and they met there, also by chance. That is how he learned that Mr. Aubin and I are acquainted.” She knew that she was using John’s Christian and family name interchangeably, which she did even in her mind, depending on how angry or nostalgic she was feeling. She supposed it revealed like nothing else the changing nature of their relationship.
“And what did your father say of the meeting?” Margery eyed her intently. Geny felt it and lifted her eyes to meet her gaze.
“Father told me that Mr. Aubin said that he loved me.”
It seemed impossible to move after confessing out loud the very thing that had spun around in her mind over and over. If she’d had any pride, she should be hurt and disgusted and wish for nothing to do with him—not when he had been deceitful with her. Not when he had kissed her without being in a position to offer for her. Yet the fact that he had boldly declared his feelings to her father seemed to make those earlier sins diminish, as though they were nothing. And she could not deny that she still loved him back. She bit her lip, musing over how hopeless it all was.
Margery drew a deep breath and sat upright. “I fear I am about to be a bit managing and tell you what to do.”
Geny looked at her expectantly. For once it would be nice if someone did that—especially if it brought her to a happy ending.
“Mr. Aubin will never seek you out after you have specifically told him that you did not wish to see him again. But I am not so sure you should give up so easily, for I know your heart is already lost to him. What we must do is have my Mr. Thompson send him an invitation requesting that they meet on a matter of importance.” She sent Geny a bracing look. “And you must be there when he comes. Then, if your relationship is meant to be, it is meant to be.”
Geny felt as though her pride should dictate an absolute refusal. At the very least, she should give it long and hard consideration before capitulating. After all, he had behaved abominably toward her, and she should categorically refuse to see him.
But she could not. Not when she so desperately wanted to see him. Not when it felt a little bit like a resurrection.