Authors: Kate Worth
Jane’s nostrils flared. “I am going to scream if you don’t move away from me immediately.”
“And who do you suppose will come?”
She squirmed back in her chair.
“It will be fascinating to hear your tale of woe. Fair warning… I’ve known many treacherous women. I’ll not be easily deceived.”
“I have done nothing to deserve your suspicion or your disdain.”
Finn leaned back, forcing her to look up. His eyes were cold and hard, his lip curled into a sneer. “That remains to be seen.”
Jane pushed her chair back and sprang to her feet when the Duke of Rutledge entered the library.
Throughout Lord Wallace’s brief introduction, the Duke studied her as thoroughly as his brother had, but with less animosity. He sat in a padded leather chair behind his desk. Lord Wallace moved to the side and hitched his hip on the edge, one leg swinging. He rested a palm on its surface and propped his other hand on his hip. It was a deceptively relaxed pose, completely at odds with the tension Jane could feel radiating from him in waves.
She considered complaining to the Duke about his brother’s boorish conduct, but suspected it would be a waste of breath.
“As you must know by now, the necklace you attempted to sell in Garrard’s yesterday morning belongs to my family,” Rutledge began.
Jane opened her mouth to respond, but he raised a hand to forestall her.
“Although the few facts we have point to only one conclusion, we’re aware that you may have been an unwitting accomplice. You shall have the opportunity to present your side of the story.”
“Accomplice! Your Grace, I assure you I’ve done nothing wrong. I had no accomplice, I acted alone.”
Drat, that sounded bad.
“I mean the necklace was not stolen. It was given to me.”
That wasn’t strictly true either. Damn!
“That may be the case, and if it is, you’ve nothing to fear. Our primary interest is not the locket itself, however. It is of no value when compared to what it represents… a link to a missing loved one.”
The door to the library opened again and two uniformed Metropolitan Police officers entered. The Duke acknowledged the men with a curt nod as they took up posts just inside the door.
Fearing her arrest was imminent, Jane panicked. “There is no need for this! Please, Your Grace, you must permit me to explain!”
“Calm yourself, Miss Gray. Take a seat. Lord Wallace and I will conduct this inquiry. We will ask questions and you will answer. I trust we can rely on your complete cooperation and truthfulness?” He quirked a brow and waited for her to answer.
She could only managed a nod. Her mouth had gone bone dry.
“These gentlemen are simply here to assist in proving the veracity of your claims. It bears repeating that you
must not
lie, for any untruth will be discovered immediately. We also need the names of your coconspirators and associates. If you were not the mastermind, then the courts will go easy on you.”
She began to hyperventilate
. Coconspirators? Associates? Mastermind?
Jane nodded. She clung to the hope that the truth would set her free. She had done nothing wrong and she could prove it. Or could she? Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure.
“I am ready. Where would you like me to begin? Yesterday?”
“Begin at the beginning.”
JANE CLOSED HER eyes and thought back to the day she met Maura in Russell Square.
“The day I met your sister, it was very cold and the streets were crowded because of demonstrations. Do you remember all the trouble caused by the Sunday Trading Bill?”
The Duke exchanged a startled look with his brother. He nodded.
“I saw her sitting all alone in the park that morning and it worried me,” Jane said. She looked up and caught an odd expression on Lord Wallace’s face. “That evening I made sure I walked by the park again on my way home, just for my peace of mind. She was still sitting there in the gloom. The streets are dangerous after dark, even for grown men, so I offered to get a hack or walk with her. She cried and said she couldn’t go home, so I convinced her to come back to Sugarmann’s with me.”
“I don’t believe you,” Lord Wallace said flatly.
“Finn, please,” the Duke snapped. “Allow her to tell her story.”
“I expected her to stay the night and go home the next day, but one night turned into two, then three, then the visit became indefinite. After it became evident that she was with child, I didn’t have the heart to turn her away. I convinced Mrs. East to let her stay with me. Four months later, she gave birth to a baby girl.”
Jane had reached the most painful part of her story. She paused and looked at both men with dread. Their expressions reflected so many emotions… anger, hope, suspicion, trepidation.
“Go on,” Rutledge prompted.
“I had never attended a birth before, but it appeared to me that everything went fine. Your sister was exhausted, but she and the baby seemed to have come through it well enough.”
Jane closed her eyes and remembered that terrible day. She pictured Maura holding Pip, hair clinging to her damp forehead, a rare smile on her face as she looked into her baby daughter’s eyes. Suddenly she began to bleed as if a spigot had been switched on. So much blood. The midwife tried to stem the flow, but nothing worked. Jane held Pip, helpless to do anything as Maura slipped away.
When she finished telling her story, Jane’s voice trailed off. One of the men cleared his throat, snapping her back to the present. The Duke’s head was bowed.
“This must be very painful for you. I’m terribly sorry, Your Grace, but Maura died giving birth to her daughter.”
After an extended silence, Lord Wallace asked, “Can you prove your story?”
“Your sister was wearing this gown the day I met her.” Jane handed it to him. She watched as he unwrapped the pale yellow silk with reverence.
He touched it gently then passed it to his brother saying, “Yellow was Maura’s favorite color. I had forgotten until this moment.”
“The plaque on her portrait reads Maura Wallace, but I knew her as Daphne Livingston.”
With one balled-up fist resting on the fabric and dread evident in every word, the Duke asked, “Where is she?”
Jane’s vision blurred. “In the graveyard of St. Botolph’s on Aldgate.”
Pain flared in his eyes and Rutledge’s chin dropped to his chest for a moment. His head snapped up as the full import of her words registered.
“Does the child live?” he barked.
Jane pointed to the window. “Yes. I brought her with me today; she’s in your garden.”
The Duke surged across the room. As he looked down at Pip playing next to the fountain, Lord Wallace joined him. Side by side, they studied the child for several minutes.
“Truly, she does favor Maura,” Rutledge whispered.
“Be logical. We can’t be certain she is Maura’s child, and unless we’re able to prove it beyond any shadow of doubt, Mother should not be told. You
must
agree with me on this. I’ll not have her toyed with so cruelly,” Finn insisted.
“This,” he glowered over his shoulder at Jane, “…
woman
may well be using her child for financial gain,” he warned. “It is more likely than not, in fact. Somehow she knew of Maura and concocted an ingenious, diabolical tale that can be neither proved, nor disproved. The child could be anyone’s, a foundling or her own.”
The Duke stalked back to his chair, dropped into it, and rested his forearms on the desk. “Why now?”
“Now…? What do you mean?” Jane blinked.
“The necklace… why sell it now? It’s worth a great deal of money, enough to vastly improve your standard of living, certainly more than enough to raise one small child in comfort. Why wait five years to sell it?”
“The dress and necklace are the only legacy Pip has from her mother. I wanted to keep them for her, perhaps give them to her on her wedding day. I have been able to raise her using my earnings from the bakery.”
“You own a bakery?” he asked, casting a doubtful eye over her worn clothing.
“No. I’m employed in one. I do not earn a great deal, but I manage well enough for two.” Jane struggled to stay calm. Hysteria would serve her poorly. It would only make her look like what they believed her to be — guilty.
“Such self-sacrifice!” The Duke’s lips twisted. “And now you have delivered to us our long lost sister’s child. Is it your intention to offer her for sale? What is the going price for a noblewoman’s daughter these days? Or perhaps you intended to present your proposal more delicately. What generous compensation do you expect from us in return for your steadfast devotion?” His voice rose throughout his angry monologue, but it broke on the last word.
“That is vile and slanderous!” Jane cried. “I love Pip. I have asked for nothing from you and I will not. I only desire a chance to be heard!”
“Logic and evidence point to a different set of facts, Miss Gray. I believe you waited five years because you believed interest in the locket would fade over time. Then, after what you mistakenly thought a safe interval, you tried to sell it. Unfortunately for you, it has not been nearly long enough.”
“That is not true,” Jane’s protested.
“When your crime was discovered, you concocted this Banbury Tale as a clever way to wring money from us. Selling the necklace was Plan A, selling the child Plan B. My brother is correct, is he not? Tell us how these things really came into your possession.”
His face had grown harsh, making him look more like Lord Wallace.
Jane reached into her pocket, withdrew the trust papers, and slid them across the desk.
“I wanted to establish a trust for Pip’s care should something happen to me. I have no family, you see. I spoke with a solicitor, Mr. Bartram, who handled the legalities. He told me the money I had saved was not enough… that far more was needed. Although I had kept the locket to give to Pip when she was old enough, the trust seemed more important. In my heart I believed the locket belonged to Pip, and since the funds would have been deposited in her name, I didn’t feel I was taking anything from her. I removed the portraits, the most important part, at least to my thinking. Daphne… Maura said they were her grandparents.”
Rutledge scanned the papers then handed them to Finn. He wrote “Bartram & Foley, Bloomsbury Square” on a sheet of paper and handed it to one of the officers who nodded briskly and left the room.
“Regarding Daphne, the girl you claim was Maura… did she tell you immediately that she was with child? Was it obvious to look at her?”
“No, but I could tell from the first moment that she was in serious trouble. She was frightened and alone, secretive at first, but she soon confessed it. I believe she left home because she could no longer hide her condition.”
“Liar!” Finn roared. “Our sister was a young, innocent girl. If Maura were troubled, she would have confided in me. We were very close.”
Jane’s eyes were sympathetic. “You’ll get no argument from me on that. I spent several months with her, enough time to know she
was
a sweet, innocent girl. She was also one who had been taken advantage of by a heartless man. It is a story as old as time. Perhaps you were so close she couldn’t bear to disappoint you?”
“Did she tell you who misused her?” Rutledge asked, his voice low.
“Who misused her! Jesus, Cameron! You’re not buying this, are you? Maura was only sixteen.”
“Finn, please! If you cannot be constructive, you should leave,” the Duke said quietly.
“No, Your Grace. She never revealed his name to me, but I’ll search my memory for anything she may have said that could reveal his identity. Perhaps there is a clue in the false name she used,” she suggested.
“Where is Sugarmann’s Bakery? Is there anyone who can verify that you had a guest who died in childbirth?” Rutledge asked.
Jane gave him her address and said her employer would remember Daphne. “If you bring Mrs. East here, she’ll recognize Maura’s portrait as I did. Your sister often helped me in the bakery when she was restless from spending too much time in my room. She refused to go outside for fear she’d be recognized and only came downstairs when the shop was closed.”
The Duke dispatched a footman to fetch Mrs. East.
“She helped you
bake
?” Finn said skeptically. “Maura was gently bred. She knew nothing of such things.”
To Jane, everything he said sounded like an accusation. She drew in a breath for patience. “I taught her. She liked to make tarts and decorate petit fours, although I do believe she ate more than she iced,” Jane smiled sadly at the memory.
“Who attended the birth? Was a priest called? A coroner? If this happened, there should have been many witnesses and abundant documentation to prove your claims,” Finn fired off questions as they occurred to him.
“Midwife Allen attended. A doctor and our parish priest were summoned later. I was so distressed at the time that I don’t recall all the details, but I assume Pip’s birth was recorded in the parish registry office, as Daphne’s death would have been. I can take you to the grave.”