Page 9 of Trusting Miss Austen (Miss Austen #3)

An emergency meeting with Mr Hart was called the next morning, and everyone in on the scheme (except Lucinda) met in Edward’s study. He presided behind his desk while us ladies arranged ourselves on the leather settee, and Mr Hart sat on the hard-back chair in front of the desk like a naughty schoolboy.

‘I trust you had a comfortable night’s sleep, Mr Hart?’ began Edward.

He had been shown to a room in the main house when he’d made his way back from the cottage after an hour. What had gone on between him and Lucinda during that hour we had not dared ask!

‘Yes, indeed, sir. Thank you for accommodating me at such short notice. I know my visit must seem impulsive. But my thoughts were fixed upon seeing Lucy, and I blustered my way into your household without knowing the full extent of her ... situation. For that, I apologise.’

‘It is quite all right,’ said Edward. ‘I am sorry that you are being dragged into this unfortunate situation.’ He shook his head sadly, which annoyed me a little.

‘Forgive me for saying so, Edward, but the situation is not quite so unfortunate as you make out. We have successfully managed to keep Lucinda’s reputation intact despite’—I looked pointedly at Elizabeth—‘being surrounded by tea party gossipers, and we have discovered that Mr Hart cares for Lucy regardless of her condition. So it is much better than we supposed. All that remains is for the baby to be born, then we will be on our way and you can return to normal as if we were never here. So you see, there is nothing to be sad about. In fact, we should be celebrating!’

‘Sorry, Edward, but I have to agree with Flissy,’ said Jane. ‘The plan is robust, and no one’s reputation has been compromised ... That is, of course, thanks to you and Elizabeth for agreeing to have them here at Godmersham and shoulder the risk,’ she added hastily as, after all, they were her relations and she had to see them again.

‘Well’, said Edward, settling back in his chair, his frown relaxing, ‘when you put it like that, it appears we have a happy conclusion to look forward to.’

‘My only concern is Lucy’s health,’ said Mr Hart earnestly. ‘Have all the arrangements been made to ensure a safe birth? I am happy to pay for someone to come from London.’

After witnessing Mrs Busby’s strange turn the other day, a new midwife was just what we needed.

‘In truth, I am not sure the current midwife is up to the task,’ I said. ‘I would rather a new one was procured, one with more experience.’

‘Mrs Busby is experienced,’ said Elizabeth, speaking for the first time since we had entered the study. ‘She delivered little Edward because it was the middle of the night and my midwife did not have time to get here.’

‘But you did not choose her?’

Elizabeth sniffed contemptuously. ‘Of course not. She’s the gardener’s wife. What would people say?’

‘All right now, dear. If Mr Hart wishes to bring a midwife from London, then he shall do so,’ said Edward, seeing that his wife was getting testy. ‘I think a more important matter we need to discuss is how he feels about Felicity and Max raising the child as it will be essentially his niece or nephew.’

All heads swivelled to the gentleman. My heart raced as I realised that Mr Hart did indeed have some claim to the child because he was related. With one word, he could take away the ‘happy conclusion’ that Max and I were looking forward to.

Mr Hart clenched his fists tightly on his lap, and I did not know if that meant he was angry or distraught at being faced with such a decision. ‘I cannot say how I will feel in the future,’ he began. ‘But I do not think how I feel now will change significantly ...’ He paused, and I found myself reaching for Jane’s hand as what he said next could potentially change everything.

‘Please take your time, Mr Hart,’ she prompted. ‘We understand this must be very upsetting for you.’

Mr Hart gave a deep sorrowful sigh. ‘It is, and I know you will think me cold and unfeeling, but I believe it is the best solution for Mr and Mrs Fitzroy to take the baby and raise it as their own. I am sorry. I love Lucy, and I do wish to marry her when she is recovered. But I cannot —and I need to say it again so you know how strongly I feel on the matter—I cannot raise Dorian’s child. It is entirely ... too much to ask of me.’

He abruptly pressed the heels of his hands against his watering eyes, and I felt terrible for him. His brother had stolen away his first love and corrupted her to the point of no return, and now the rogue had got his second love pregnant! It was no wonder that he wanted nothing to do with the child .

I waited for my own feelings of doubt to surface. But instead, I felt nothing but elation: the child would truly be ours, Max’s and mine, and nothing could stop it now .

‘Would you be willing to sign a document to that effect?’ I asked Mr Hart, allowing myself to feel relief but also knowing that Max would want to secure his statement in a legal fashion.

‘Of course,’ he said, turning in his chair to look at me. ‘I will make an appointment with my lawyer as soon as I return to London.’ His eyes stayed steady on mine. ‘I hope you understand my position, Mrs Fitzroy,’ he said, as if beseeching forgiveness .

‘I understand completely, Mr Hart, and do not think less of you in the slightest,’ I replied, trying not to sound too gleeful but already composing a letter to Max in my head: Mr Hart has arrived and discovered Lucinda is to have his brother’s child. Everything is well, but he definitely wishes for us to raise it ...

Oh, Mr Hart’s visit had turned out to be most fortuitous!

Lucinda’s future happiness was now secured with a man who loved her despite her past dalliance, and so was my own with my husband and a child I did not have to give birth to. At that moment, I felt myself a very blessed woman indeed!

My feeling of elation lasted all day and did not abate even though we were served Brussels sprouts at dinner along with the roast beef (I poured a large dollop of gravy on mine!).

I had seen Lucinda briefly that morning to drop off a basket of food and was pleased to find her in good spirits. We talked about the events of yesterday and how she had told Mr Hart everything: from our stay in the castle up until now. Apparently, he had listened carefully and had not interrupted, even when what she was saying must have been painful for him. He was so different from Dorian in every way—good and kind—that it was difficult to believe they were brothers .

Lucinda spent the rest of the day ensconced with Mr Hart in lovers’ bliss, and we did not disturb them. After luncheon, I walked with Elizabeth to Mrs Busby’s cottage and stood in the doorway while she informed her that she could attend to Lucinda for the meantime, but that there was a ‘proper’ midwife coming from London. The woman was disappointed that she was being replaced but said she understood. She took me aside afterwards, when Elizabeth had walked ahead, and fervently thanked me for not saying anything about her fortune telling episode. I assured her that my lips were sealed on that account.

My letter to Max was penned in the afternoon, and the words flowed out of me in a joyous fashion. It was lovely to have some good news to give him. I wished I could be there, peeking over his shoulder, to share in his pleasure at reading my letter. I asked him to keep the good news about Mr Hart and Lucinda secret from Seraphina for the present as Lucinda said she would write and tell her. Seraphina would be relieved to hear that her daughter’s future was not ruined, but it was best that it came from Lucinda herself as it was her felicitous romance and not mine (and Seraphina may not believe me) .

I was ready for bed (sans baby corset), brushing out my hair at the dressing table and feeling as happy and weightless as a spring lamb when there was a knock at my door. Jane, no doubt , I thought, getting up to answer it. She probably wants to borrow some ink or paper. Ever since the tea party debacle, Jane had been spending a significant amount of time at her writing desk, scribbling away. When I asked her what she was working on, she replied, ‘Something no one will like but me,’ which was very intriguing !

But it was not Jane at the door—it was Mr Hart. An icy draught blew in from the passageway, making me shudder and draw my shawl more tightly around my shoulders. One good thing about wearing layers of wool padding in winter: it kept me toasty warm.

‘Can I help you, Mr Hart?’ I asked, my toes curling as the cold draught snaked its way around my ankles.

‘Forgive me for the intrusion, Mrs Fitzroy. But I have received a letter, and it is too urgent to wait until the morning to show you. Will you let me enter?’

‘Gracious, all right,’ I said, stepping back from the door to let him pass by. With a furtive glance down each side of the passageway to ensure no one saw, he stepped into my room. I supposed it would not do to be seen by any of the servants. ‘First, he turned up for the mistresses’ tea party. Then he visited the cottage and stayed there all afternoon. Then he went into Mrs Fitzroy’s room, at night no less!’ Mr Hart would be a hot topic of conversation below stairs indeed if anyone was keeping tabs on him.

He refused to take a seat but handed me a letter with the seal broken. ‘I received this from Maurice yesterday morning as I was about to leave for Godmersham. In my eagerness to see Lucy, I tucked it into my valise and forgot all about it. I have only opened it now.’

Maurice! I had thought about Hartmoor’s kindly butler many times since he had helped me escape and hoped that Dorian had not been able to carry out his promise to make his life ‘difficult’. I had wanted to write to him to thank him again and to reiterate my offer of employment but did not want to interfere if he was happy where he was.

‘Oh! How is he? Is he still looking after your father?’

‘Maurice left my employ abruptly last year, saying that he was going to work for Dorian. I was very surprised, especially as he is devoted to my father, who, in case you are wondering, is back at Hartmoor with a full retinue of staff. But anyway, you should read Maurice’s letter. ’

Mr Hart walked over to the window while I opened the flaps and scanned the neat flowing script .

33 Saffron Hill, London

7 February 1800

Master Harrington,

I am sorry to be the bearer of some bad news. Your brother has been knocked down by a carriage and is seriously injured. I fetched a doctor at the time, and he looked him over and administered some laudanum. But he told me privately he doesn’t expect Master Dorian to recover .

He has since contracted a fever and has been calling out for “Harry” in a delerium. He has also been mumbling “Felicity” in a distressed manner. I believe he knows he is dying and wishes to atone for his sins to you and to Mrs Fitzroy before he passes.

I don’t expect that Mrs Fitzroy could bear to see him after what he did to her at the castle, and she is all the way up in Derbyshire and probably will not make it here in time. But you are not far from us here in Saffron Hill, and blood is thicker than water, so I hope you can find it in your heart to grant a dying man’s bedside wishes.

Expecting you forthwith to the above address as soon as possible, sir.

Your faithful servant,

Maurice

Oh, how awful! The letter fell from my fingers and fluttered to the floor as tears burned my eyes. Feeling faint thinking of Dorian’s terrible injury and his impending death, I reached out blindly for the bed.

Seeing I was distressed, Mr Hart hastily helped me onto the edge of it and put his arm around my shoulders to comfort me. I buried my head into the crook of his neck and sobbed. All the months of anxiety caused by that man and the letter he had written to me still professing his love (which I had burned!) and the trepidation I had felt about raising his child (which I was going to do!)—now he was hurt and dying! It all came flowing out of me in a rush of hot tears .

‘After all that Dorian has done, you must think me weak to cry about him,’ I said in a short while, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. ‘He is the reason we are here at Godmersham, and he doesn’t even know that we are furtively running around making plans to cover up his mess!’

‘Not at all. You are kind, and it is very sad news,’ said Mr Hart gently, rubbing my arm. ‘I wept myself just now in my chamber. He is my brother, and to think of him in pain and near to ... Well, it is horrible.’

‘Do you ... do you think he is being punished?’

Mr Hart shrugged. ‘I think he made an error of judgement, and this time, he could not talk his way out of it. But there is a certain inevitability, I must admit. When someone lives fast and furious like Dorian, there is a price to pay at some point.’

‘Will you go to him?’

‘Yes, of course, first thing tomorrow morning. How can I not after reading a letter like that? I would have to be cruel and heartless to ignore it. So yes, I will visit him and hear what he has to say. I only pray I am not too late. I would go tonight. But it is dark, and the roads are icy, and I do not want to have a similar fate befall me. And I have Lucy to think about.’

I nodded and drew back from him, wiping my eyes with my hand.

‘Mrs Fitzroy, I came to show you the letter ... but also to ask if you want to come with me.’

I sucked in a breath. Go to London and see Dorian again? To stand by his bedside as he took his last breaths all the while hiding the knowledge of his child from him?

‘I … I am not sure it is a good idea. ’

‘I understand. Of course, it is too difficult,’ said Mr Hart. ‘Do not worry yourself. Maurice has probably already told him that you will not come.’

Upon hearing that, I felt awful and imagined how he would feel to know it, especially as he had been mumbling for me! Mr Hart was going straightaway and without any recrimination. So should I go too? But what would Max think if he found out about it? Would he think I was betraying him? Even though Dorian is dying?

‘Perhaps I will come with you,’ I said slowly, trying the words on like a gown to see how they fit. To my surprise, they fitted me better than I thought they would.