Page 27 of Intrigue and Inheritance (Crime and Consequences #3)

Something like panic flashed in Lydia’s eyes. “Everything is perfectly fine. Major Wallace is currently attending to business matters, and we prefer to keep our presence in London relatively quiet. His family, you understand... they’re still adjusting to our marriage.”

Kitty stared at her sister, increasingly bewildered.

The Lydia she knew would never have worried about anyone “adjusting” to her decisions.

She would have laughed, declared them all stuffy old bores, and done exactly as she pleased with theatrical disregard for convention.

This nervous, evasive woman seemed almost a stranger.

“But surely you could have called on us privately,” Kitty persisted. “Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy would want to know you’re here, and to meet little Beth. Especially since you named her after Elizabeth, how thoughtful!”

“It’s... complicated,” Lydia replied, her gaze darting around as though seeking escape. “James feels it’s best if we maintain some distance for now. Military politics, you understand.”

“No, I don’t understand at all,” Kitty said, a hint of her old petulance creeping into her voice.

She reached out to touch the baby’s plump cheek, earning a gurgling smile that momentarily distracted her from her confusion.

“She’s absolutely darling, Lydia. Are you certain she’s only just born? She seems so advanced.”

Lydia’s laugh sounded painfully forced. “Of course I’m certain when my own child was born. What a ridiculous question.”

Something in her tone, a defensive brittleness, awakened a strange suspicion in Kitty’s mind.

She studied the baby more carefully, trying to discern any familiar features.

The child did have something of Lydia in her rounded cheeks, perhaps, but her eyes.

.. there was something about the shape of them that sparked a vague memory Kitty couldn’t quite place.

“Does she resemble Major Wallace?” Kitty asked, watching her sister’s face carefully. “What colour are his eyes?”

“Brown,” Lydia replied too quickly. “Like Beth’s will be, the doctor says. They often change in infants, you know.”

The viscount, perhaps sensing the increasing tension, chose this moment to step slightly closer, though he maintained a respectful distance.

“Miss Bennet,” he called softly, “I don’t wish to rush your reunion, but we should probably rejoin the others at the park soon. They’ll be wondering where we’ve gone.”

Lydia seized on this interruption with evident relief. “Yes, you mustn’t keep your friends waiting, Kitty. It was lovely to see you, but Beth and I should be getting home. The air is becoming a bit chilly for her.”

It was nothing of the sort, Kitty thought, the afternoon being positively balmy for March. She opened her mouth to say as much when Lydia hurriedly continued.

“Do give my love to Elizabeth,” she said, already beginning to move away, pushing the perambulator with unnecessary haste.

“Tell her we’re quite well and not to worry about us at all.

Perhaps we’ll call at Darcy House before we leave London, though I can’t promise anything with James’ uncertain schedule. ”

“But Lydia,” Kitty protested, reaching out to stop her sister’s retreat, “you haven’t told me where you’re staying. How can I reach you?”

“It’s better that you don’t for now,” Lydia replied, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Please, Kitty, trust me in this. Some things are... not what they seem. I’ll explain everything someday, I promise.”

With that cryptic statement, she turned and hurried away, pushing the perambulator so quickly that little Beth bounced slightly against her cushions, her surprised coo trailing behind them like a question mark.

Kitty stood on the pavement, watching her sister’s retreating figure until Lydia turned a corner and disappeared from view.

A strange hollowness had settled in her chest, replacing the initial joy of their unexpected encounter.

Something was terribly wrong, that much was clear, though Kitty could not begin to understand what it might be.

The baby was certainly older than Lydia claimed, but why would her sister lie about such a thing?

And why was Lydia, who had once revelled in being the centre of attention, now hiding her presence in London from her own family?

“Miss Bennet?” Viscount Shandly’s voice recalled her to the present moment. He still stood holding the horses, his expression unusually serious, the habitual theatrical flourish absent from his bearing. “Are you quite well?”

Kitty made herself turn away from the now-empty street and walked back to the curricle.

“I’m not entirely certain,” she admitted, surprised by her own honesty.

The Kitty of even six months ago would have manufactured a bright smile and pretended all was well, eager to return to flirtation and amusement.

Now, she found herself unwilling to feign cheerfulness she did not feel.

“That was your sister?” the viscount asked as he helped her back into the curricle with careful courtesy.

“Yes, Mrs. Wallace. My youngest sister, Lydia.” Kitty settled into her seat, adjusting her skirts with unnecessary precision. “I had no idea she was in London. She married an officer, Major Wallace.”

The viscount took up the reins again but made no immediate move to start the horses. “And this unexpected meeting has disturbed you,” he observed, showing a perceptiveness that surprised her. “Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but you seem troubled.”

Kitty glanced at him, noting the genuine concern in his expression. For once, the viscount’s face showed no trace of the performative animation that typically characterised his interactions. Instead, she saw only quiet attentiveness and what appeared to be real sympathy.

“It’s rather complicated,” she said finally. “And I’m afraid not very entertaining. Perhaps we should return to Hyde Park? The others will be wondering what’s become of us.”

“Of course,” he agreed, setting the horses in motion with a gentle flick of the reins. But instead of immediately launching into another of his elaborate tales, he remained silent, allowing Kitty space for her troubled thoughts.

As they made their way back toward more fashionable streets, Kitty found herself replaying the strange encounter in her mind.

Lydia had always been the most confident of the Bennet sisters, brazenly saying whatever came into her head without consideration for propriety or consequence.

Yet today she had seemed nervous, almost frightened, her usual vivacity replaced by a brittle tension that Kitty had never before observed in her.

And then there was the baby, little Beth.

Clearly thriving and well-cared for, yet equally clearly much older than would be possible if she were truly born after Lydia’s marriage to Major Wallace.

Kitty did the calculations in her head; Lydia had married in July.

Even if the child had been conceived on Lydia’s wedding night and then born prematurely, she could not possibly be more than a few weeks old.

Yet the baby Kitty had seen was alert and responsive, with the solid limbs and focused gaze of an infant of at least three months.

“Miss Bennet,” the viscount said gently, breaking into her thoughts, “I would not presume to intrude upon family matters, but please know that I am entirely at your service should you require... assistance of any kind.”

Kitty looked at him in surprise, touched by this unexpectedly serious offer. “That’s very kind, my lord. Truly. But I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything. Lydia has always been rather dramatic.”

The words sounded hollow even to her own ears.

Whatever was happening with Lydia, it went beyond mere drama.

The sister who had once shared every thought, no matter how improper, was now keeping secrets, significant ones.

And there had been fear in Lydia’s eyes, real fear that had nothing to do with being caught in a social impropriety.

They entered Hyde Park, where carriages and riders moved along the fashionable paths in a stately parade of wealth and status.

Kitty straightened her posture automatically, arranging her features into a semblance of pleasant interest as they rejoined society.

Her thoughts, however, remained with Lydia and the mysterious circumstances surrounding her presence in London.

“There are the others,” the viscount observed, nodding toward where Lord Joseph’s distinctive green curricle was parked near a grove of trees.

Kitty could see Anne seated beside the enthusiastic poet, a small smile playing about her lips as he gestured dramatically, clearly in the midst of reciting one of his compositions.

Nearby, Georgiana and Mr. Townend had paused their own curricle at the edge of the Serpentine, the gentleman pointing toward something on the water with evident enthusiasm while Georgiana listened with genuine interest.

“They appear to be enjoying themselves,” Kitty remarked, making an effort to focus on the present moment.

“As were we, I believe, before our unexpected encounter,” the viscount said, his tone gently questioning.

“Yes, of course,” Kitty assured him quickly. “Your stories of Italy are most entertaining. I particularly enjoyed your account of the treacherous mountain road, though I confess I wonder how you managed such precise manoeuvres while simultaneously fending off bandits.”

It was a poor attempt at her usual light-hearted banter, and the viscount’s smile suggested he recognised it as such. Nevertheless, he accepted the change of subject with good grace.

“Ah, the bandits! I neglected to describe them, didn’t I? A fearsome group, led by a former nobleman fallen on hard times. He had the most remarkable moustaches, waxed to points so sharp they might have served as weapons themselves...”

As the viscount launched into an increasingly elaborate tale of Italian highwaymen, Kitty made herself smile and nod at appropriate intervals. Yet her mind continued to circle back to Lydia’s strange behaviour and cryptic parting words: “Some things are not what they seem.”

The baby was too old to be Major Wallace’s child.

That much was certain. But if not his, then whose?

And why would Lydia lie about something so easily disproved?

Unless... a troubling thought occurred to Kitty.

Unless Major Wallace himself was party to the deception.

But what possible reason could they have for presenting a child of uncertain parentage as their legitimate offspring?

Kitty recalled the gossip surrounding Lydia’s first marriage and its abrupt end.

Wickham’s death had been reported as a fever, but there had been whispers, quickly suppressed, of other circumstances.

Elizabeth had been unusually reticent on the subject, and Mr. Darcy had made several urgent trips to the north around that time.

Then had come the hastily arranged marriage to Major Wallace, a man none of them had previously known.

“Miss Bennet?” The viscount’s voice pulled her from these unsettling reflections. “Shall I help you down?”

Kitty realised they had stopped near the others, and Lord Joseph was already waving enthusiastically in their direction. She forced a smile, determined not to let her inner turmoil spoil the afternoon for everyone.

“Thank you, my lord. And thank you for your patience. I fear I’ve been poor company since seeing my sister.”

“On the contrary,” he replied, offering his hand to assist her descent, “you have been precisely the company I wished for, regardless of circumstance.”

There was a sincerity in his voice that touched Kitty unexpectedly.

She met his gaze, seeing beyond the fashionable attire and dramatic mannerisms to a gentleness she had not previously recognised.

Perhaps there was more to Viscount Shandly than elaborate tales and theatrical gestures, just as there appeared to be more to Lydia’s situation than any of them had suspected.

As they joined the others and exchanged pleasantries about their respective drives, Kitty maintained her social smile while inwardly resolving to speak with Elizabeth as soon as possible.

Whatever secret Lydia was keeping, whatever trouble she might be in, Kitty was determined to understand it.

She was no longer the silly, thoughtless girl who had once followed Lydia’s lead in every foolish scheme.

She had grown, had learned to observe and consider, and now she would use these newfound abilities to help her sister, whether Lydia wished for that help or not.