Page 45 of The Cloverton Charade (The Houses of Yorkshire #3)

Not even half an hour after Russell, Tabitha, and Mr.Wakes were apprehended, Olivia found herself back in Cloverton’s Blue

Room. She’d experienced a wide range of emotions while standing in this room on previous occasions, but none matched the vexed

urgency that plagued her in this moment.

She needed to hurry.

Because a heavy fog had descended on the moors, Cunningham had brought the prisoners back to Cloverton Hall instead of to

the village for questioning. Mr.Wainbridge, Isabella, and Mrs.Milton were still away at the Whitmore House dinner as planned,

but they were expected to arrive at any moment.

Isabella’s maid had loaned Olivia one of her mistress’s gowns, and with the woman’s help she quickly changed from her mud-caked,

rain-soaked gown to a warm wool one, washed her face and arms, and brushed her hair. As soon as she was ready, she descended

the great staircase and headed to Mr.Wainbridge’s study, where the men had gathered.

She hesitated outside the door. On the other side of it were people she’d once trusted and even counted as friends. Not only had they betrayed her, but they had betrayed many others as well. She was nervous to face them, but she also knew that Lucas was inside.

She placed her hand on the brass handle and opened it.

Heat from the large fire in the grate rushed her as she entered, and the plethora of candles added light to the cluttered

chamber. Several crates had been placed on a table in the center of the room, revealing an assortment of chinoiserie. Tabitha,

Russell, and Mr.Wakes were each seated in a chair with their hands tied behind them. Lucas, Mr.Cunningham, and two of the

constables were also present.

Immediately, she caught Russell’s eye.

He did not look away. Instead, he fixed his hard, angry gaze on her.

Years of shared experiences flashed before her. Up until now he had been an important figure in her life—a constant when so

many other things had shifted.

And then she looked to Tabitha. As odd as it seemed, this betrayal stung more. Tabitha’s cheerful friendliness had been a

safe harbor during her uneasy time at the house party, but looking at Tabitha now, she could scarcely believe any softness

resided in her. Her wet copper hair was plastered to her forehead and the side of her face, and the moisture in it made it

appear that much darker. Her skin was ghostly white, which emphasized the dark shadows beneath her lower lashes, the smattering

of freckles on her upturned nose and cheeks, and the purplish-red hue of her eyelids.

Olivia moved wordlessly next to Lucas, who stood just next to the fire, but as she did, footsteps and cries echoed from the hall, followed by panicked voices. Mr. Wainbridge, Isabella, and Mrs. Milton all bustled in, still clad in their fine attire from their evening at the Whitmores’ home.

In the midst of all the confusion, it was Mrs.Milton who drew Olivia’s attention, and her heart ached for the older woman.

Horror and distress at seeing Tabitha tied up with the men suffused her face. No doubt she was putting the pieces together.

Mr.Cunningham raised his hands to quiet the chatter. He fixed his glare on the three perpetrators, and his voice echoed hard

and deep. “Do any of you three want to start by telling me what exactly is going on here?”

No one moved or spoke.

“If no one’s going to respond,” Mr.Cunningham continued, “I’ll tell you what I observed with my own eyes. I saw this maid

bringing items from Cloverton Hall to an old cottage on the moor. And I saw that these two gentlemen brought exact replicas

of the pieces. Now, why would that be?”

The three thieves remained silent.

“It wouldn’t be that you were going to swap them out, thinking no one would be any the wiser, would it?”

When they failed to respond again, Cunningham leaned a few inches in front of Tabitha’s face. “Maybe I am not being clear.

I’m asking you questions. Did you steal these items?”

Fresh tears streamed down her already tearstained cheeks, but instead of remorse, hardness settled over her features. She

whirled her head to face Olivia. “Ye know me, MissBrannon! Ye know I’m no thief.”

Olivia shook her head. “No, I don’t know you, Tabitha. I thought I did, but I was mistaken.”

“These things, all of ’em, should belong t’ me.” She fought against the ropes, then spun to face Mrs. Milton and pinned a hard, hateful glare on the older woman. “Either you tell ’em, or I will.”

All color drained from Mrs.Milton’s face. Her cheeks shook. Her hands trembled.

Olivia feared Mrs.Milton might faint.

Tabitha jeered toward Mrs.Milton. “Francis Milton was me father. Wasn’t ’e, Mrs.Milton ? Ah, ye can be generous t’ me and hide me away, pretend it’s not so, but ye know I’m right. Those things are me birthright.

And so I took ’em.”

She swung her head back to face Olivia. “Did ye not wonder why Mrs.Milton was so kind t’ me mother? ’Twas ’er ’ usband what took advantage of ’er. ’er ’ usband who ruined me mother’s life. And instead of throwin’ me mother out, she used ’er—an’ me—t’ make Francis Milton pay for ’is

sins every day of ’is miserable, deplorable life.”

Mrs.Milton, in a display much more fitting to the woman Olivia had gotten to know, slammed her hand down on a nearby table,

rattling the chinoiserie. Olivia anticipated yelling, shouting, but instead the woman’s eyes narrowed. Her voice tightened.

She locked eyes on Tabitha. “Is this really what you’ve come to? No allegiance? No loyalty? No friendship?”

“’Twas yer ’usband,” Tabitha hurled, her face pale, her eyes wide. “ Yer ’ usband who is responsible for all o’ this.”

“Oh yes, my husband made mistakes,” admitted Mrs.Milton, her gumption strengthening. “But I treated you with nothing but

kindness and respect. And this is how you repay me?”

Tabitha scoffed, even as fresh tears raced down her round cheeks. “Don’t ye dare use me t’ ease yer conscience. You’re just as bad as ’e was, because ye ’id it from t’ world. Your ’usband ruined me mother and ultimately killed her.”

The hatred, the anger in Tabitha’s voice, shocked Olivia. Never would she have thought the girl so capable of vengeance.

But whereas Tabitha seemed to be crumbling, Mrs.Milton seemed to be garnering vigor. “No, Tabitha. No. You chose this path.

And I cannot, I will not, help you. Not anymore.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Cunningham interrupted, refocusing the interrogation. He pointed a finger at Tabitha. “You will

answer my questions and only my questions, are we clear?”

Mrs.Milton spun and hurried from the room.

Everything in Olivia wanted to hear the excuses and the reasons from Russell and Tabitha as to why they’d betrayed her. But

Lucas was present to hear it, and at the moment, she suspected Mrs.Milton needed her more than Arthur Cunningham did.

Olivia left her place at Lucas’s side and found Mrs.Milton in the drawing room, which was lit only by the fire in the hearth.

She was seated on the sofa, still in her elegant finery from the Whitmore dinner, staring into the fire. She was not crying,

but her hands were shaking.

Olivia was trying to determine what she should say when Mrs.Milton beat her to it. “You’d best go, MissBrannon. You’ll miss

the questioning. I’m not entirely sure what has happened here tonight and what exactly it is that Tabitha and those men have

done, but since you and Mr.Avery have returned and there is a pile of porcelain on the table, I can only assume you have

business to tend to.”

“The constables will take care of it.” Olivia sat next to Mrs. Milton. “Right now I’m more concerned with you than the questioning.”

Olivia took Mrs.Milton’s hand in her own, and they sat in silence for several moments. At length, Mrs.Milton heaved a shallow

sigh. “I thought I’d take that secret with me to the grave.”

Olivia squeezed her hand. “It must have been a very difficult secret to live with.”

Mrs.Milton sniffed and impatiently swiped at the moisture in her eyes. “It was, at the beginning. I was so angry with Francis.

And Tabitha was right. I did want to make him pay and regret his actions. But time has a way of softening such intentions.

I forgave him. In fact, I never thought of Tabitha as his child. I considered her a friend. I was able to separate them in

my mind. I thought Tabitha did as well. Clearly, I was mistaken.”

“I know Mr.Milton was very dear to you.”

“He was. But as dear as he was to me, he was often foolish, often selfish. Francis made several questionable decisions when

he was young, but he was still my husband, and I had a choice to make. I could forgive him and do my best to move on, or I

could stay in a place of anger. Those were the only two options, and I chose the one I thought I’d be able to live with.”

There was a soft, sad wistfulness to Mrs.Milton’s tone that Olivia had not heard before. “You cannot control what your husband

did, any more than you can control what Tabitha did.”

“It turns out I was the fool. I had no idea she felt this way. All these years, and I had no inclination.”

“You’re not a fool. The way I see it, you made the best decision you could with the information you had and chose to take Tabitha at her word. You did not waver.”

Silence once again fell over them, and Mrs.Milton patted Olivia’s hand this time. “Where do I go from here, I wonder.”

“That is the beauty of it. You get to start fresh. A brand-new story waits for you, Mrs.Milton, and I, for one, can’t wait

to see where it takes you.”

***

Had it really only been a couple of weeks ago when Olivia was here for the house party? When Mr.Romano painted her portrait,

when she first tried champagne, and when she reignited her relationship with Lucas?

Life had resumed in the ensuing weeks, but in truth, it wasn’t the life she’d known. Something in her had changed during her

time at Cloverton Hall. She’d arrived here with no other focus than to further her prospects and prove herself self-sufficient.

That was still important to her, but now the future she saw for herself was shifting. She no longer saw only a future where

she was responsible for herself and Laura. Her future now included Lucas.

Footsteps sounded, and Lucas appeared in the doorway. And he looked tired. His tousled brown hair was brushed carelessly to

the side. He wore no tailcoat, his neckcloth was loosened about his neck, dried mud speckled his breeches and riding boots,

and his shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows.

Even after all that had happened, he offered her a lopsided grin as he entered the room. “What an ordeal that was. I’d have never thought Crane had that sort of fight in him.”

“I guess you would, too, if you’d just found yourself caught in illegal activity.” She motioned for him to join her on the

sofa. “What do you think will happen now?”

“They’ve taken them out to the stables to guard them there for the night. The fog is too thick to travel to the village now,

but tomorrow Wainbridge will bring charges against them. Tabitha has all but confessed, and even if Crane does not say a word,

there’s a paper trail. After all, you have his ledger, and we will be able to match that up against the counterfeit pieces.

What’s more, Wainbridge is paying to have a constable go to Wakes’s house and buildings. They will inevitably find evidence.

Maybe they will find leads on other collectors he has deceived.”

“Wakes had such talent as an artist. Imagine being able to create such beautiful things. It is such a waste.”

“Ah, you know how it is, Olivia. Some collectors value antiquities because of what they represent. Others value them because

of what they are worth. It’s a delicate balance... one that he obviously tried to manipulate.” Lucas wrapped his arm around

her, and she leaned against him. He kissed her forehead. “It’s after midnight. You should go to bed.”

“How could I possibly sleep?”

“Well then”—he settled in, tightening his arm around her—“tell me what happened with Mrs.Milton.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder and lifted her face to his. “It’s heartbreaking, Lucas. She did confirm that Mr. Milton was Tabitha’s father, and yet she really did love him. She wanted to preserve what she believed was his legacy, and yet it was that very legacy that caused such turmoil and brought his past back to haunt him.”

“I always find it ironic when we encounter situations like this. These chinoiserie pieces are so valuable, and yet they are

no substitute for those we love.” He traced his finger down the side of her cheek, letting it linger on her chin. “I really

am proud of you, you know. You’re brave. In fact, it’s almost scary how brave you are.”

She laughed. “It’s not bravery. I fear it is stubbornness. Or perhaps a reaction to injustice.”

“Whatever it is, it’s quite unusual.”

“Speaking of unusual events, I’m ready to put all of these unusual happenings and events behind us and return to what is normal.”

“My dear Olivia,” he teased, “nothing about my life has been normal since the moment I saw you walk into Cloverton Hall.”

She raised a brow. “Are you sorry, then?”

“Not sorry at all. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Which reminds me. I have another confession.”

The reprise of their secret joke brightened their conversation. Olivia straightened and turned to face him. “What, another

one?”

“Yes. Another one.” He took her hands in his and leaned close. His gaze met hers so fully that it was as if he could see into

her very soul. “I confess that I am hopelessly captivated by you. And if this past month has taught me anything, it’s that

love, and love alone, makes life worth living. So that is why I ask you, MissOlivia Brannon, if you will do me the honor

of becoming my wife.”

She didn’t want to break his gaze. The girl who had arrived at Cloverton Hall desperately seeking approval was now a woman who’d learned that strength came through love and acceptance. And it was beautiful.

She reached up, placed her palm on the side of his face, and looked deep into the green eyes of the man who had helped her

find such truth. “Mr.Avery, I would be honored to become your wife.”