Page 89 of The Secret Life of the Elusive Governess
Moses had ordered a cot to be made up in her room as he was adamant about seeing her through the night. He had thought about letting her sleep with him and her mother but decided against it. Josephine did not know her mother much and familiar surroundings were probably best for the child.
Before he could rest, though, Hinds had given him the news that they had found the kidnapper—a groom. By confession, he stated that he had waited for the opportune moment and had taken the child. He had carried her, on horseback, off of the manor’s grounds in a sack used for carrying fifty pounds of flour. He was currently in prison and awaiting sentencing.
Josephine did not sleep until the wee hours of the morning and Moses had stood the night with her, tirelessly assuring her that she was safe. After she had finally gone to sleep, Moses had stayed up and watched her. The fear that he might have lost her was slowly lessening in his mind but he swore to never take any chances with her.
His vow had led him to stay with her for the next three nights while Caroline had been summoned to her family’s estate as her ancestral home was without a master.
Will she claim it?he kept wondering.
Last night he had come into Josephine’s room to see Lavinia there, with the little girl in her arms, reading her a bedtime story. Moses had leaned on the door and thought it a wonderful occurrence as Lavinia had never done it before. He even came upon her dictating some French for Nicholas the next day.
Is she finally coming to the realization that she is their mother?
“That’s wonderful, Lavinia.”
Her smile was strained, “It is long overdue.”
In hindsight, he should have known her by her altruistic action that something was wrong. The next day, just after breakfast, he had gone to see her but found the room empty, the bed made and resting on a pillow was a folded letter addressed to him.
Frowning, he took it and went to sit in Lavinia’s abandoned chaise-lounge.
Moses,
I had never intended to do this by this medium but after you rescued Josephine and brought Miss Robins back into the house, I knew there was no place for me here.
Moses, you were my husband for over ten long years. You saw me through many stages of my illness and never even thought of putting me away like any other man would have done. You stood by me in my darkest days and had the patience of a saint while doing so. You made sure to provide for me and our family the best you could and I have to admit, though it pains me, hiring Miss Robins was one of the best decisions you could have made. You were a strong tower in my time of need and though you were faithful and held on strongly to your Christian oath, you have never loved me. Sadly, I can say the same.
My past, Moses, is one of many tales, all twisted together and lead to the tight knot that my present existence is. My father, for all his benign acts and seeming caring patronage, is nothing but a sham. I was not surprised when he tried to use our child to manipulate his own dastardly purpose. My father used his position to expect exorbitant richness, superiority, and acclaim. And to achieve that he used me, the one useful asset he had.
When I was a child, after my mother had passed away, my dear Father gave me treatments from the subcontinent and France to turn my skin into alabaster and to lighten my hair into flaxen gold. I was trained to walk, speak, and act like a princess as he knew that was how he was going to rise to fame. He had designs on my marriage to a king, prince, or a man of great power since I could speak. He taught me to disdain any that was not on the hierarchy I was and to dismiss those who were not as beautiful, blooded or accomplished as I was.
In my ten-and-eight year, he gladly offered up his perfect creation, me, the most eligible debutante to the ton to be pounced upon. Men, thrice my age, jostled for my hand but my father refused them all as none of them met his standard of wealth. Every time I attended a ball or soiree, I felt like a prize sow going to an auction for salivating men to strip me to my bones and bid for my flesh.
One night, I could not take the attention anymore and ran out of the Matron Weathering’s house to escape the leers and lewd pawing those geriatric men seemed to think was an appropriate approach. There in the cold, dark garden of the manor house, a man approached me. I had seen him once or twice in many of the dinner parties and dances that I had attended, and admired him from afar, but was never given the chance to know his name.
“Lady Crampton,” he said simply, “If you need an escape, I am at your service. I can whisk you away if only you give me the word. I have seen your growing weariness when you come to arrangements like these and I know you are tired of being eyed like a slab of meat. Just say the word and I will take you away… far away.”
He was, by far, the first one to see my exhaustion and know the growing disconsolation within me.”
Moses stopped his reading and closed his eyes as a faint omen prickled over his skin. He then stopped delaying fate and read on.
His name was Sebastian Holloway, the son of a minor Baron of only sufficient means. I fell in love with him that night. When you asked me that question after the race, I could not in good conscience tell you to whom that name belonged as I could not throw another wrench into our lives. As my father kept on marching me out at every ball and every function, I said not a word but went with the hope that Sebastian would be there. And never to fail, he presented himself at every one.
One night at Mrs. Heath’s masquerade ball, Sebastian feigned his last name as of the Dame Knighton’s kin, a lady who was the first cousin to the Queen of Prussia, and gained a dance with me. It was the most magical night of my life. He used the name again to put in his courtship for me and my father was delighted to know that I might be wedded to a prince of the realm until my father discovered the charade. He discovered that Sebastian was the son of a minor Baron, almost a commoner by his dearth of wealth, and banned me from seeing him.
Sebastian, however, was much wilier than my father and he courted me under the nose of many of my chaperones. One night, when I was in near my one-and-twenty year…I fell to Sebastian’s charm and seduction and lay with him. I soon found myself with child.
My god, Moses realized with a jerk, that was the age he had married her.Is she about to tell me what I suspect it is…?No! God, no.
Father found about my state and banned me from even going out of the house. I was a prisoner in my own home for days that felt like weeks. I began to despair because Sebastian was, and still is my true love. I spiraled, Moses, and in my despair, I sought to kill myself and once twisted a sheet into a noose, but I was discovered. My father was too wise for me then. He did not allow any cloth in the room and there were no metal instruments I could use.
One morning he then told me I was to be courted by you. At once I was appalled and mourned that he had roped you into this charade. Into a love where no love was to be had. I resisted. He told me that if I did not marry you and bring him the privilege he desired, I would rot away in that house for years with no sunlight, no freedom, and no autonomy. He told me that I would give birth by myself and on the faint chance I survived, he was going to slaughter the bastard child right before my eyes. I chose you, Moses, only to give my child life.
The Duke dropped the letter as cold chills ran over his skin and sank into this body, freezing him from the inside out. The realization dropped on him like a ton of bricks. Nicholas, the child he had raised, the boy he was grooming to take over his title when he died, and the man he had hoped would further the Hayward name…was not his.
Nicholas Hayward was NicholasHolloway, the child of his wife’s first lover.
Desolate, Moses pushed away from the table and staggered to the nearby cabinet, liberated a bottle of whiskey and put it to his mouth. The harsh liquid burned his throat and ransacked his stomach but the pain in his body was nothing compared to the agony in his heart.
