Page 29 of Love, Lies, and the Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

T he next day, Anastasia slept in. She was not the only one, for her family had dined well at the Lindens and stayed out late, so it was a rather late start to the day for everyone.

That did not keep her aunt from running errands and paying social calls, however, so she left not long before luncheon, but not before reminding her nieces they were to join her that evening at the Lyon’s Den, for she had an invitation for them all from Mrs. Dove-Lyon.

The younger Mr. Jemisin arrived that afternoon, calling for Betsey, and they sat in the parlor taking tea with Anastasia, when their aunt came in, her face pale. She carried a newspaper in her hand.

“Aunt, what is wrong? Are you all right?” Anastasia stood.

Aunt Mildred’s eyes darted to Mr. Jemisin, and she took the newspaper and folded it, fanning herself vigorously. She sat down on a cushioned armchair near Anastasia and said, “No. I’ve just read the most disturbing news.”

“Good Lord, Aunt, what is it?” Betsey asked.

“Allow me to call a servant for you. Do you need a doctor?” Mr. Jemisin asked.

Aunt Mildred glanced at Anastasia and shook her head. “No. But I fear…” She set down the paper and offered it to Anastasia. “Here. You read it. On page six.”

Anastasia took it, unfolded the pages, and began to read.

A shocking rumor has come to this editor from a most reliable source, that Miss Anastasia Banks, a guest and niece of the kind Mrs. Mildred Wildemay and Mr. Richard Wildemay of Devonshire Terrace, has been keeping a secret.

Unbeknownst to all but a select few, she is not the maiden she pretends to be and has a rather looser nature when it comes to the opposite sex.

Our source explains he knew her rather intimately some years ago, and she had boldly seduced him when her mother lay dying in her sickbed, then demanded he marry her or face social ruin.

“I couldn’t go through with it,” our source tells us. “I had already fallen for her feminine wiles. But I could not bring myself to marry such a mercenary woman.”

Is Miss Banks still as shameless as she was years ago? Our source explains yes, that he’d had the misfortune to run into her at a private establishment and she had once again thrown herself into his arms. But when he refused her, she had him thrown out for poor behavior.

The editor hopes that Miss Banks will accept that she has mistreated a young man most foully and attempt to learn a lesson from this. Pretense will only last so long before the truth is found out.

Anastasia lowered the paper with a shaking hand. She felt the blood drain from her face.

“Ana, what is it? I’ve never seen you look so pale,” Betsey said.

Anastasia shook her head. She was at a loss for words.

“Is it true?” Aunt Mildred asked.

“Ana? Ana, what is wrong?” Betsey asked.

The newspaper fell from her hands and Betsey picked it up. As she began reading, her eyes grew wide. She stared at Anastasia.

“Miss Betsey? What is…” Mr. Jemisin took the paper and read it. He cursed.

All eyes went to him. He ran a hand through his light-brown hair. “I’m sorry, Miss Banks. I truly am. I never thought Jeremiah would stoop so low.”

“What do you mean?” Betsey gave him a dazed look.

“My older brother, Jeremiah. He’s always been more of a woman’s man than I.

I was too shy to talk to women before you, dearest, but he was always popular.

He’s often talked about dallying with ladies and tumbling a few, but I always thought it was just talk.

I never thought it was real.” He glanced at Anastasia.

“I’m sorry he’s dragged your name in the mud.

I know it was him you had thrown out of the Lyon’s Den. ”

“You what?” Betsey rose, scandalized.

Anastasia gave Percy a grateful look. All this time, he hadn’t mentioned he’d known about that, and he’d still stuck by her sister and socialized with them both, as if nothing untoward had happened. He truly was a better man than his brother, she decided.

“Ana? What did you do?” Betsey demanded.

“I didn’t have him thrown out . He was removed by two of the staff members at the Den for harassing me,” Anastasia said, but her voice died in the din of noise as everyone talked at once.

“I cannot believe this foulness. I shall write a letter to the editor immediately, demanding a retraction. He cannot print lies like this,” Aunt Mildred said, whisking the paper from Mr. Jemisin. She folded it and crumpled it into a large, wadded ball of paper. “What rubbish.”

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Jemisin said quietly. “I never thought he would do something like this. To besmirch a lady’s character, it’s…”

Beyond rude , Anastasia thought. If I were a man, I would call him out. Even if it is partially true. It is a dueling offense.

“I can’t believe this. You lost your virtue years ago and you didn’t say anything?

You didn’t tell me, your own sister? For years and I find out like this ?

What, you thought you’d keep it a secret, when this directly affects my future happiness?

My God, it’s amazing we were welcomed anywhere at all.

And now everyone knows.” Betsey turned pale.

“Then you have Percy’s brother thrown out of the Lyon’s Den.

I should’ve known. No wonder he left. He probably couldn’t stand listening to you. ” Betsey seethed.

“It’s not like that. He…” Anastasia’s voice faltered.

“I don’t care. I can’t trust anything you say. I wonder at you, Anastasia. Is there anything you won’t do to make us both be unwelcome wherever we go? You really do want us both to be spinsters, don’t you?” Betsey stamped her foot and stormed off, running up the stairs.

Anastasia watched her go, stunned. She jumped as Betsey’s bedroom door slammed.

“I’m sorry, Miss Banks. I’ll take my leave. Please accept my apologies and give my best to your sister.” Mr. Percy Jemisin bowed and left.

Anastasia stared at the wadded-up ball of newspaper on the floor as her uncle entered the room.

Mr. Hardwicke would surely hear of this salacious gossip, if he hadn’t already.

No doubt Mrs. Sherwood would be at his home with the paper in hand.

Anastasia stared into the distance, feeling distracted.

She longed to escape this torment. What would he think of her now?

“What on earth is going on?” her uncle asked. “First Betsey slams her door and now her beau has left the house without a word. Did they have a row?”

“No, Richard. Instead, an insidious rumor in the paper, about Anastasia.” Aunt Mildred picked up the wadded-up ball of paper. “No, it’s too horrible. I don’t dare even look at it again.”

“What did it say?” he asked, when there came a knock at the front door.

“Oh, what now ?” Aunt Mildred said, exasperated. “Whoever it is, tell them we’re not at home.”

There was a pause.

“Where are the servants?” Aunt Mildred demanded. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’ll answer it myself.” She crossed the room and entered the foyer, opening the door. “Oh, Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”

“Forgive the sudden call, but I felt it necessary to come at once.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon herself entered their parlor. “Miss Banks, how good to see you. Although I see you have heard the news.”

“Yes, I read the paper.” Anastasia pondered the curious sight of Mrs. Dove-Lyon, who looked so out of place in her black widow’s dress and shadowy veil, standing there in her aunt’s parlor in broad daylight, rather than surrounded by the deep red and velvet textured hues of the Lyon’s Den.

The matchmaker looked out of place against the light colors of her aunt’s parlor, but then since Anastasia had awoken that day, nothing was as it should be.

She noticed her left knee bouncing almost uncontrollably and stopped it, resting a hand on her knee.

“Do sit down,” Aunt Mildred said. “Shall I ring for some tea?”

“No, thank you. I won’t be staying long. I only came to offer my sincere sympathies for the situation you are in. That gossip editor is a rude person who doesn’t check his sources, and—”

“It’s true,” Anastasia admitted. “Not all of it, but what he said. Some of it is true. I am not a maid.”

“ Anastasia ,” Aunt Mildred gasped. She staggered to the cushioned armchair and sat down.

“My dear girl, you don’t know what you are saying. Let us call for a servant to make you a cup of tea,” her uncle said.

“No, I’m fine. I’m not thirsty.”

“Anastasia, I’d like to know what’s going on. What do you mean, it’s true?” her aunt asked, her voice firm. “As a guest in our house, I think we have a right to know what the newspaper is talking about. And how is Mr. Jemisin’s brother involved in all this?”

Anastasia glanced at her aunt. Her former relationship with Jeremiah was none of her aunt’s business.

It wasn’t anyone’s. But now that it was all out in the open…

Jeremiah’s warning was coming true. This would affect her sister and her aunt and uncle’s movements in society, not to mention her father’s.

Herself, she cared little about. But her family…

She took a deep breath. “Uncle, I think I will take that cup of tea if that’s all right.”

“Yes, of course.” He rang for a servant, who went to prepare tea.

Once they were comfortably situated, or at least had restorative steaming cups of hot green tea before them, Anastasia relayed the sorry tale of her brief romance and dalliance with Jeremiah.

Her aunt, uncle, and Mrs. Dove-Lyon listened, and when she finished, Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, “I thought as much. His animosity toward you at my establishment was too pointed to be anything but personal. I am sorry for the insult you received then, and now. It is a horrid situation you find yourself in, Miss Banks.”

Anastasia lowered her eyes.

“But you are not without friends.”

All eyes turned toward Mrs. Dove-Lyon, who politely sipped her tea. “Mr. Jemisin has dealt very poorly with you, and I do not doubt he has shown the same rude behavior toward other young women.”

“He came to me the other day, demanding money,” Anastasia said.