Authors: Anne Ireland
“But you cannot, you cannot,” she whispered brokenly. “I am not worthy of you, Paul. Supposing someone learned of my shame . . .”
Paul pulled her hard against him. His mouth covered hers in a hungry passionate kiss that silenced her. She tried to move away, but he held her, imprisoning her, kissing her until she lost the will to resist and could only stay quietly in his arms, her head against his chest.
“I love you, and I want you—more than I have ever wanted a woman in my life,” Paul said hoarsely. “We shall be married, Hester—and if anyone tries to bring shame on you, they will answer to me.”
“Oh, Paul,” Hester wept. “You cannot . . . surely you cannot love me now?”
“I love you for your sweetness, your goodness, and your honesty,” Paul said. “You were an innocent. Mortimer was a man and therefore responsible. If I did not believe that he will suffer enough seeing you as the wife of another man, I would thrash him to an inch of his life—but it is best to put the past behind us and go forward.”
She stood meekly as he wiped the tears from her face. He smoothed his thumb over the lips he had kissed so thoroughly, bringing forth a little sigh.
“And can you forgive me for disappointing you?”
“Yes, of course,” he said though he was still frowning. “You expressed a wish to have your daughter with you, and I can understand your wish—but you must give me time to get used to the idea, Hester. I am not saying that it is wrong, only that we must think about it carefully. I do not wish you to be shunned by society. I shall find a way, but you must leave it to me.”
“Yes, of course.” She smiled up at him mistily. He had forgiven her and though it would take him some time to forget that she had done something that most men would think unforgivable, he would still marry her.
“I am sorry, Paul. I have wished a thousand times that it was otherwise, that I could go back and things would be different.”
“We cannot change the past,” he said. “And now we shall go and find your mother and cousin and tell them the good news.”
“Are you certain?” she asked, still unable to believe that he would accept her despite her shame.
“I have always been certain, and nothing you have told me changes that.”
He took hold of her hand firmly and led her back across the lawn towards the house.
* * * *
In the darkness, Henry Blackwater stood smoking his cigar and smiling. His instincts had served him well when he followed Hester and Crawford to the summerhouse.
He had learned her secret much sooner than he had expected, and it was all that he could hope for and more. She had given birth to a child and that child still lived—and she wanted her daughter.
As Crawford’s wife, she would hardly be granted that privilege, for the gallant captain would not want it known that his lovely wife had been Mortimer’s whore. The possibilities were endless. It was just a question of waiting for the wedding and then choosing his moment.
“Hester! You look disgraceful—have you been crying?” Mrs. Weston pounced on her daughter as soon as they entered the ballroom.
“My dear lady,” Paul intervened immediately. “You must not scold, Hester. I dragged her away with me, and she has done me the honor of consenting to be my wife. I believe you must forgive a few tears in the circumstances?”
“Oh . . . Yes, of course,” Mrs. Weston said. He had taken the wind from her sails and, as she looked at his face and saw his stern expression, she knew that she must watch her tongue in future, especially if he were present. “Well, in the circumstances . . . congratulations, Hester. You are a very fortunate young lady.”
“Yes, Mama, I know.” Hester lifted her head as she gathered her pride. “I think I must go to the rest room and repair the damage to my appearance.”
“I shall come with you,” Mrs Weston said at once but was delayed by the touch of a firm hand on her arm. “Unless Paul wishes to speak with me?”
“I think we may be private in my uncle’s library, ma’am. I shall naturally call on Mr. Robert Weston to arrange the formal contracts—but if I may just have a few words with you?”
Hester cast him a grateful glance as she went away to wash her face and tidy her gown. In the rest room provided for the ladies, she met Charlotte and confided her news to her with a shy smile.
“It is just as I thought it would be, my dearest cousin,” Charlotte said and embraced her warmly. “Captain Crawford is a good man, and I am sure you will be happy with him.”
“Yes . . .” Hester smiled. She was very happy that Paul had forgiven her, though there was a tiny pinprick of hurt inside her for she knew that she had disappointed him. There was also another ache buried deeper inside her concerning the child she had believed dead. It was painful to think of her daughter growing up bereft of even the poorest education and a mother’s love. Richard had said she was well cared for in a physical sense, but Hester knew what it was like to feel unloved, and she grieved for her daughter’s lack. Somehow, she must do something for her, even if Paul would not allow her to have the child. “Yes, I am happy, Charlotte.”
“Then I am content,” Charlotte said looking very pleased with herself. “It is all that I could wish for you, my love.”
Returning to the ballroom, Hester was immediately joined by Geraldine, Lucinda, and their partners, all of whom hugged and kissed her with real affection, welcoming her to their midst.
“Now you will truly be one of us,” Lucinda said and laughed up at Josh. “I won my bet! I said that Captain Crawford would propose tonight, and Josh said he would wait for a few days yet.”
Hester smiled, for it seemed that her friends had been more confident than she, but their smiles and their teasing warmed her.
“You will be going to London for your bride clothes and so shall I,” Geraldine said. “We must arrange to go at the same time, dearest Hester, and then we shall have more fun that way. We can shop and go to social events together—oh, it will be so exciting! I was looking forward to it anyway, but now it will be even better.”
“And you must come to our wedding,” Lucinda said. “Paul has an invitation, and you are invited as his fiancée of course.”
Surrounded by her friends until they all began dancing once more, Hester hardly had time to think about what had happened to her, but the moment of facing her mother’s questions could not be put off indefinitely. They began in the carriage, though it was not until Mrs. Weston followed her daughter into her bedchamber that they were alone.
“Well, Hester, you have done better than I had hoped,” Mrs Weston said with a satisfied smile. “Captain Crawford is prepared to help your brother improve his estate to the tune of some ten thousand pounds, which will be in the form of labour, materials, and structural improvements to the house.”
“Oh, Mama, how could you?” Hester asked, appalled.
“I did not say a word,” Mrs. Weston said, clearly elated. “The suggestion came entirely from Paul—wasn’t that good of him?”
“Yes, of course.” And wise since a capital sum would almost certainly have gone the same way as the money Robert had already lost at the gambling tables. Yet, Hester suspected that her mother had previously dropped hints that Paul could not fail to appreciate. He had known that the best way to win her approval was to do something substantial for her son.
“Well, you might look pleased,” Mrs. Weston said. “It will not affect your settlement, though I have not been told the details. Paul will speak to Robert on the matter, for he is the proper person to deal with the marriage contracts.”
“I had not even thought of a settlement,” Hester replied quietly, though of course she knew that it was normal practice for these things to be arranged. “Mother, there is something I must ask you.”
Was that a guilty flush in her cheeks? Hester saw that her mother could not meet her eyes and guessed that Paul must have said something to her.
“I am rather tired, Hester. Could this not wait until the morning?”
“I would rather speak of it now,” Hester said, and there was a new tone of authority in her voice. “I have learned that my daughter did not die at birth as you and father told me.”
“Oh, do not look at me like that,” Mrs. Weston wailed, unable to meet her daughter’s accusing eyes. “I knew that you would blame me if you ever discovered the truth. It is a terrible burden to have carried all these years, Hester. Your father made me do it. I did not want the child to be given away—she was a pretty little thing, very like you as a baby—but your father was adamant.”
“Could you not have told me later—after he died?”
“You would have wanted to find the child, and I couldn’t face all the scandal, Hester. It was a long time, and I did not know if she still lived. So many children die in their formative years . . .”
“I think it was very unkind in you, Mother,” Hester said a touch of anger in her tone. “I broke my heart over the baby. You know I did. Why did you let him do that to me?”
“He was so angry, Hester. I had always been a little afraid of him. Mr. Weston was such a stern man, and . . . sometimes I wished that I had not married him. You cannot know the life I had with him. He could be violent as well as harsh.”
“He was violent to you?”
“Yes, on several occasions, especially after . . .” A tear trickled from the corner of her eye. “My health deteriorated after one beating, and the doctor suspected him. He was warned, and after that, he did not come to my room. He never hit me again, and I believe he had a mistress. But he was still unkind, and I know that he was often cruel to you.”
“He only beat me a few times,” Hester said. “I think because he knew that his taunts hurt me more than the cane. I did not know that he hurt you. Poor Mama. Do not cry. I see that it was not your fault, and I think we must forget that it happened.”
“Oh yes, that is much the best,” her mother said relieved. “I am glad we have had this talk, for it was such a dreadful secret and it has played on my mind all these years.”
“Well, you need not think of it again. I know the truth—and somehow I mean to see my daughter.”
“Hester! You cannot,” Mrs. Weston said in a horrified tone. “It would be the most shocking scandal if all this came out. You might be shunned by society . . . ostracized.”
“But I cannot just give her up completely now that I know,” Hester said and there was a determined look in her face that her mother had never seen before. “Even if I may not have her to live with me, I must see her sometimes—and I must help her. Do you know that she cannot read or write? How can I allow my daughter to live like that, Mama?”
“I . . . don’t know,” Mrs. Weston said and quailed before the look in Hester’s eyes. “I suppose you could not.”
“I must speak to Paul about it,” Hester said. She saw the acceptance in her mother's eyes and knew that she had learned that Hester was no longer to be dominated. “But I am sure that he will agree that I should see her. He may even accompany me—though I do not know if he will allow me to have her with me.”
“You must not ask it of him, Hester. It is enough that he has forgiven you and is prepared to wed you.”
“Yes, I am aware that he has been generous in forgiving my shame,” Hester said. “Do not look so anxious, Mama. I love Paul with all my heart, and I shall do nothing to jeopardise my marriage, but I must and will see my daughter.”
“Yes, I understand,” Mrs. Weston said. “If I had been in your place I might have felt the same, though Mr. Weston would not have married me and I would not have dared to tell him if I had a secret like yours.”
Hester smiled at her mother. She could understand much that had been a source of hurt to her in the past, for she had wondered why her mother had been so unkind.
“I hope that we shall understand each other better in future, Mama.”
“Yes, well, I hope so too,” Mrs. Weston said in a trembling voice. “And now I really must go to bed, Hester. I have a shocking headache.”
“I am sorry, Mama. I should ask for a tisane if I were you.”
“Yes, I shall. Lady Longstanton’s housekeeper makes a very restorative drink that eases my nerves. I must ask her for the recipe when I go home.”
“You will come to London with me to buy my bride clothes?”
“No, I do not think so, Hester. I think you would do better with your friends and Charlotte. I shall give you some money, though Charlotte has told me that she will give you another five hundred pounds. You will have sufficient for a trousseau that will not shame your new position.”
“Thank you, Mama, you are very good,” Hester replied and, on impulse, leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek.
“Well, I have a little money of my own that my father left in trust for me, and I have not done much for you in the past, Hester.”
Hester was thoughtful after her mother went out. She did not feel like retiring immediately, though she rang for her maid and allowed her to help with her clothes so that she could go to bed. Afterwards, she sat by the window brushing her hair and looking out at the night sky.
She had wept so many bitter tears for the loss of the child she had carried inside her all those months. It was strange that she had never hated the tiny life within her, never resented the baby that had caused her trouble. The child could not be blamed for its existence. It had been her own fault for allowing Richard Mortimer to kiss her. Had she refused him the first time, he would not have gone so much further than she had ever intended or imagined possible. And she understood now that he had had his own reasons for behaving as he had—and for leaving her to face the results of his passionate seduction alone.