Page 22 of Lady Maybe

After breakfast the next day, Mr. Lowden asked Hannah to join him in the morning room. His eager eyes and secretive air indicated something important was afoot.

“I’ve had a letter from a friend of mine in this morning’s post,” he began as he ushered her inside. “Remember that Captain Blanchard I mentioned?”

“Yes?”

Looking into the hall to be sure no one else was near, James closed the door. He gestured her to take a seat, and then lifted the open letter from the desk. “It’s rather surprising. He wrote to tell me he saw Lady Mayfield again, this time in London.”

“Lady Mayfield? How ... interesting.”

“I thought so.”

“When was this—a long time ago, I assume?”

“No. Last week.”

Hannah’s heart banged against her ribs. “Obviously your friend was mistaken.”

“Then he is not alone in his mistake, for he sent along an article from a London society column.” He handed her a rectangle of newsprint and Hannah read,

Sir Francis Delaval hosted a masquerade ball at his home last night. Attendance was sadly low, as so many have returned to their estates, leaving town parties in favor of country house parties. However, the evening was saved by the appearance of a very beautiful Diana, which caused great speculation among the company. Several in attendance noted a striking resemblance to Lady M. M—, lately of Bath, who graced us with her charming presence in the past. But this time Lady M. was unaccompanied by either husband or preferred companion, the charming though insolvent Mr. F—.

No ... Hannah thought. It can’t be . She gripped the article and insisted, “It’s just a rumor.”

“I’m not so sure. My friend had met Marianna Mayfield before, you remember, when my father was still Sir John’s solicitor. So he recognized her and even spoke with her. Blanchard wrote with much enthusiasm of her great beauty, enchanting brown eyes, and fair complexion.”

It certainly sounded like Marianna. Even so, Hannah struggled to believe it. “There are many beautiful, dark-haired women in London. He must have seen someone else.”

“Possibly, though he seems quite certain.”

“She drowned,” Hannah reminded him. “Edgar and Dr. Parrish saw her. Your friend must be mistaken.” Hannah said the words with bravado, yet inwardly knew it was she herself who’d made the mistake. Too many mistakes to count.

Might Marianna still be alive? Carrying on life in London with Mr. Fontaine? Hannah shuddered at the thought. How long until others learned of the rumor, whether true or not? Until everyone in Lynton and Lynmouth knew she was not who they thought she was?

Hannah asked, “Was the lady in question wearing a mask? After all, this article mentions a masquerade ball.” Don’t panic , she told herself. The sighting could have been no more than residual rumor—a woman wearing a costume seen flirting with a man and assumed to be Lady Mayfield.

“He saw her face,” James replied. “For just a moment, she removed her mask.”

The last candle of hope snuffed out. “And so you will remove mine,” she whispered, guessing the solicitor meant to tell everyone of the discovery. She wondered what Sir John would do.

James said gently, “Do you see now why you cannot let the deception continue, or think of marrying him?”

Hannah squeezed her eyes shut. “Even if it’s true, she’ll never come back to him.” The threatening letter Anthony Fontaine had written flitted through her mind. He had vowed to discover the truth of Marianna’s fate and to kill Sir John if he’d harmed her. Had he discovered instead that his lover had survived?

“That’s not the point, Hannah. If his wife is still alive, he is still a married man.” James pressed her hand. “You must get out now—while you can.”

James took the letter and article upstairs with him and braced himself to face Sir John with the news. He hoped his client would not accuse him of manufacturing the tale for his own purposes.

The man sat in an armchair near the window, reading a trade journal, his cane nearby. He looked up when James entered, his expression instantly wary. James regretted that such tension existed between them, but it could not be helped.

“Sir, I have something to tell you.”

Sir John asked dryly, “Will I enjoy it?”

“I’m afraid not.” James lifted the papers in his hand. “I’ve had a letter from a friend of mine. He enclosed a newspaper article as well.”

“Oh?”

“The article suggests Lady Mayfield was seen in London last week. At a masquerade ball. My friend saw her there.”

“A masquerade?” Sir John asked. “Then how did he know it was her?”

The older man did not seem as shocked as James would have guessed. Or liked.

“He said she removed her mask briefly. Long enough for him to see her face.”

“This friend of yours was acquainted with Marianna?”

“Yes. Apparently, he met Lady Mayfield when you lived in Bath.”

“And I suppose your friend saw her with Fontaine,” Sir John said. It was not a question.

“Actually, she was alone. My friend spoke to her. Told her he was surprised to see her, since he knew from me that I had spent time in Devonshire with Sir John and his ... lady.”

“And how did she respond to that?”

“He did not say.”

James noticed that Sir John did not insist this friend must be mistaken, as Hannah had done. Had Sir John believed all along his wife might be alive?

The man asked, “Have you shown Miss Rogers this letter?”

“I did mention it to her, yes. And showed her the article as well.”

“Of course you did.”

Several moments passed, but Sir John said nothing more. James wondered what he should say. He had clearly displeased his employer, yet even had he no vested interest in the matter, he would have been obligated to inform his client of such important news.

Tentatively, James asked, “Shall I ... leave you, sir?”

Sir John did not answer straightaway. Then he inhaled deeply and said, “Yes. You shall leave. I want you to go to London. Then return to Bristol, even Bath if you have to. I want you to find proof that Marianna is alive. And while you’re at it, I want you to gather evidence against her and Mr. Fontaine. Evidence we would need to bring a civil case against him.”

A civil case. The first step in long and tedious divorce proceedings, James knew.

He stood there, feeling queasy. He was relieved Lady Mayfield had reappeared and would gladly work to verify that she was alive. For if Sir John still had a living, breathing wife, he could not very well marry another—the woman James wanted for himself. But to help the man gather evidence against his wife and her lover to begin divorce proceedings? The whole process could take years and be ruinously expensive. Worst yet, it might offer Sir John, and perhaps even Hannah, hope that the two might one day be joined together lawfully. That possibility made him feel sicker yet. Even so, Sir John was his most important client and he could not very well refuse.

James swallowed back bile and asked, “When would you like me to start?”

Sir John met his gaze with a look of steely determination. “Immediately.”

Wearing an apron over her day dress, Hannah bathed Danny in a small tub. She had excused Becky, who cheerfully left the nursery in favor of Mrs. Turrill’s warm kitchen. Hannah wanted to do the sweet chore herself. Wanted to be alone with her dearest treasure and her troubled thoughts. In her pocket, she carried the threatening letter from Anthony Fontaine. Now that she knew Marianna might be alive and the two perhaps more determined than ever to be together, the letter seemed important—and the threat more real. She wondered if she should show the letter to Sir John, or to his solicitor.

The warm water felt good on her skin, and on her son’s, given the evidence of his sparkling eyes and drooling, gummy smile. She tenderly rubbed the damp cloth over his glistening cheeks, his rounded tummy, his pudgy, kicking legs. The gentle motions of the peaceful, maternal task soothed her nerves.

Unbidden, the water lapping in the tub and her wet, wrinkled fingers transported her back to the scene of the accident, until she saw neither Danny’s face nor heard his happy gurgles, but other sights and sounds less lovely.... The frigid water sloshing inside the overturned carriage and lapping against its cracked walls. The cry of a distant seagull. A heavy weight pressing against her. Her hands, wet and cold. Another hand, the ring...

For a moment Hannah squeezed her eyes shut and tried for the hundredth time to remember. Had she seen Marianna? Grasped her hand? She could almost feel Marianna’s hand in hers, feel the bite of metal in her palm—the large, sharp ring. Had Marianna been alive, awake, alert, even then? Or had she been pulled from Hannah’s grip and floated away, only to be revived later, perhaps by the water or a passerby, if the report of her sighting was true. If she was, indeed, alive. But how... how had it happened?

Danny’s happy coos became mild fussing, and Hannah realized the water had cooled.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” she murmured and carefully lifted him from the tub, wrapped him in a cozy towel, and dried his face and hair as best she could with her hindered hand. Then she dressed him in a clean cloth, cap, and nightdress, and swaddled him in a small blanket.

Holding his warm body close, Hannah sat in the rocking chair and looked down into his face. Her heart surged with love for him. Such a small person. Such a large part of her heart. Thank you, God, for blessing me with this beautiful little life.

One of Danny’s little fists escaped his swaddling and she took it in hers. Tears pricked her eyes and she whispered, “What are we going to do, my love?”

———

James went in search of Hannah and found her alone in the nursery, rocking Daniel. As he crossed the threshold, she looked up at him with damp eyes. Then her gaze lowered to the valise in his hand and the coat over his arm, and her face clouded.

“You’re leaving?” she asked.

“Yes. Sir John wishes me to verify the sighting of Lady Mayfield.”

Her lips parted in surprise. “What did he say when you told him? Was he shocked?”

“Not that I could tell. I wonder if he had an inkling all along.”

Hannah drew in a breath. “Perhaps he did. And that is why he hesitated to... report her death.”

James nodded. “And that’s not all. In case she is alive, he wants me to gather evidence against her and her lover. Evidence for a civil trial.”

She stared at him.

“Do you know what that means?”

Hannah shook her head.

“If Mr. Fontaine is judged guilty of alienation of affection, then Sir John can pursue the matter in the ecclesiastical court, charge Marianna with adultery, request a legal separation and ultimately a divorce.”

Hannah stared at him, but said nothing.

“It will take a long time and cost a great deal of money. Even if he is successful, he would not be able to remarry unless Parliament passes a bill that allows him to do so. Meanwhile, Marianna would become a social outcast and Sir John’s reputation would suffer as well, which would hurt him—and me—professionally and personally.”

“Then why would he go through all that?”

James shot her an irritated look. “Why do you think, Hannah?”

Pain crossed her face, and he immediately regretted his sharp tone. He sat on the bed near the rocking chair and lowered his voice. “Look, I know you felt compelled to stay here with Sir John, since he was willing to acknowledge Daniel, and allowed you to carry on as Lady Mayfield. But if Marianna is alive? Tell me you understand that everything has changed! Please don’t do anything rash until I return. Don’t forget—he has forgiven her before and he’ll do so again. Don’t think he won’t.”

She ducked her head and whispered, “I know.” She looked down at the child in her lap and caressed one of his small fists.

James laid his hand over hers, holding them both in his determined grip. “Better we found out now than months from now, before this had gone on too long. We might yet hush it up. But if you had returned to Bristol with him, or some other city, and more people discovered the deception...?” He shook his head, indignant at the thought. Then he looked into her eyes again. “We should be grateful. I am grateful. Promise me you’ll wait, Hannah. Don’t give in to him while I’m gone. And don’t give up on me.”

For a moment, Hannah said nothing. Then, instead of answering, she pulled a letter from her pocket. “Before you go, I think you should have this.”

James’s heart froze. Had she written him a letter of farewell? “No, Hannah. Not like this—”

She shook her head, interrupting, “It’s not from me. It’s a threatening letter Mr. Fontaine sent to Sir John.” With a meaningful look, she pressed it into his hand. “Just in case.”

After Mr. Lowden left, Hannah carried Danny down to Becky and then took herself to Sir John’s room.

She stopped in the doorway, arms folded. “Did you know she might be alive?”

Sir John stood at the window, leaning on his cane. He glanced over, saw her taut expression, and returned his gaze to the scene outside. “It crossed my mind.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to report her death?” She added to herself, Or ask me to marry you ?

“One of the reasons, yes. Though it was only a suspicion. Still is.”

She jutted out her chin. “Mr. Lowden told me what you asked him to do.”

Sir John said dryly, “That man seems to tell you everything.”

“We have ... become friends, James and I.”

“James, is it? Friends, or more?”

“Friends. For now.”

Sir John nodded thoughtfully. “Still, one wonders why my solicitor feels it necessary to divulge my personal business.”

She crossed the room to him. “It is not your personal business. He knew it would affect me if she is alive. You know it as well. But don’t do it, Sir John. Do not try to divorce Marianna—especially on my account. I have enough marks against me already.”

“If I do pursue this course,” he replied, “it would not be your fault, Hannah. Not everything is your fault. And surely not Marianna fabricating her death so she might live in peace with her paramour.”

“We don’t even know yet if that’s true. And perhaps if she is alive, she has been unable to return, or at least to get word to you—”

He shot her a withering look. “Oh please, Hannah. You cannot be so na?ve. You know her too well to believe that.”

No, she did not fully believe it. “But ... divorce? So much time and expense and scandal, with no guarantee of success. And for what? To compound our sins?”

His eyes roamed her face, then held her troubled gaze. “For our freedom.”

“If your wife is alive, then I cannot in good conscience remain any longer.” She turned. “We shall leave on the morrow.”

He reached out and grasped her arm. “Hannah, please. Stay with me. You know Marianna has never been a real wife to me. Should I be condemned to live married yet alone all my days? Is that what I deserve?”

“No, Sir John. This is not your punishment. Perhaps it is mine, but not yours. You deserve better. And I will hope and pray that Marianna will see the error of her ways and come back to you. Be the wife you deserve.”

“You know that will never happen.” His hand on her arm trembled. “Listen to me. I know I cannot marry you here, not now. But this needn’t be the end of us. We can go to another of my properties. Live together as man and wife.” His eyes blazed. “Why do you shake your head?”

Hannah took a shuddering breath, then said as resolutely as she could, “Sir John, I cannot be your mistress. I will not! I know I have made mistakes. But that doesn’t mean I have no sense of right and wrong, no self-respect.”

“I know that, Hannah. And I do respect you.”

She mustered a small smile. “I am afraid I have been spoiled by my time here. I’m no longer satisfied with pretending to be your wife. I want a husband of my own. I want my son to grow up in a real family.”

He nodded and his voice grew hoarse. “That’s what I want too.”

Tears brightened his eyes, but he stoically blinked them away. It was nearly her undoing.

Before her resolve weakened, she turned to the door, but he caught her hand once more.

“Hannah, I won’t press you. But don’t leave. Not yet. You are right that we don’t yet know if these rumors are true. It’s only that I can so easily believe it of her. Yet did not Edgar and Dr. Parrish witness her drowning? We, neither of us, ought to make decisions based on one sighting. At a masquerade, no less. Stay. Please. At least until we hear from Mr. Lowden.”

She hesitated. “Very well. Though I’m not promising to stay after that, regardless. And if he finds evidence that she is alive, I will have no choice but to leave immediately.”

They spent the days that followed in a tenuous truce—living as polite acquaintances but no more. Only with Danny did Sir John demonstrate care and affection, as though he knew or feared that every day with his son might be his last.

A week later, a letter arrived for Sir John. With a lurching heart, Hannah recognized the handwriting and carried it up to Sir John herself. Seated at his desk, he looked from the letter up to her, perhaps tempted to ask her to leave so he might read it in private and then decide whether or not to share its contents. Hannah stood before the desk and folded her arms, daring him to protest.

Instead, he uttered a humph and pried open the seal.

He read the brief letter, then exhaled deeply. “He has not found her. Nor discovered solid evidence of her presence in either Bath or London. He is returning to Bristol and will continue his inquiries there.”

He handed her the letter, and she read the words herself. Was it so wrong of her to be relieved? Then the last paragraph caught her attention:

Mr. Fontaine has been seen in London, but rumor has it that he has recently become engaged to marry a Miss Fox-Garwood, an heiress. I will write again when I have more to report.

Hannah recalled how grieved Anthony Fontaine had been when he’d come there and been told Marianna had drowned. Apparently his grief had not lasted long. Surely if Marianna were still alive, he would not become engaged to another woman. Then again, Lady Mayfield’s marriage had not hindered their affair....

“Now will you stay?” Sir John asked.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Took a deep breath. “No. I’ve stayed far too long as it is. Until all this is settled, I think it best we part ways.”

He laid a hand on her arm. She was tempted to lay hers atop his, but resisted.

“Then you stay—I will leave,” he said briskly, releasing her and rising with effort. “I’ve been thinking about returning to Bristol anyway.”

“Have you? Why?” Hannah asked in surprise. Was he returning to help Mr. Lowden in his search, she wondered, or to keep her from going off with his solicitor?

“Dr. Parrish recommends a great deal of physical exercise to increase my strength. I have a friend in Bristol who owns a gymnasium and fencing academy....”

Yes, Hannah vividly recalled.

“He has replied to my letter and promises to put me through my paces,” Sir John went on. “If I am to face Marianna and Fontaine again—I want to be whole and strong when I do so.”

“I see.” She hesitated. “Even so, I cannot remain here. I have no right. We shall make other arrangements. I’m sure Mrs. Turrill will help us.”

“You have every right, in my view. But if you must leave, keep us informed of your direction. I have instructed Mr. Lowden to send money—”

“Sir John, I already told you I don’t want any.”

“Hear me out. You needn’t use it for yourself if you prefer not to accept anything from me. But you cannot deny me the right to provide for my son. Please ... don’t deny me that.”

She hesitated, stilled by his earnest appeal. “Very well.”

“And take my copy of Sir Charles Grandison , since yours was lost. I insist.”

“Thank you, I should like that. When will you depart?”

“On the morrow. But no need to hurry. Take your time packing your things and making arrangements. Even stay on if you change your mind. Just promise me you’ll let Mr. Lowden know of any changes in your residence so he will know where to send the monthly stipend for Daniel’s upkeep.”

She said, “I don’t know that I will be seeing Mr. Lowden.”

“Oh...” He drew out the syllable, eyes glinting. “Somehow I think you will.”