Page 53 of A Secret Infatuation
Harwood—
You will not be surprised to hear from me. Robert has told me all that you are involved in, which he himself heard at White’s. I now better understand why you did not wish to help him. You were too busy helping yourself. I must say that I am heartily disappointed after all I have invested in your family that we should be repaid in such a manner. I cannot force your father from his living, but I am no longer complacent about his holding it. I will do everything in my power to dissuade him from remaining. And should he be so stubborn as to ignore my wishes, I shall make it so uncomfortable for him that he will spend his years there in misery. You may be assured of it, for those who try to make a fool of me will not succeed.
Chawleigh
The letter did not surprise Felix, but it succeeded in making him feel worse. There was nothing for it but to go to Searle Street and hope his father and sister were home. He regretted that he would not be good company to Megs, but there was nothing he could do about it. For once, he was in need of their presence and the deep family ties, a balm against the wound he had just suffered.
Chapter 23
Margaret opened the door to Felix’s knock, smiling broadly, and pulled him by the arm into their house, not seeming to notice that anything was amiss.
“We received your note and expected you for dinner. I am glad you have come early, for I must tell you that I’m feeling quite abandoned! I had not thought you so important as to neglect your own sister who is visiting London, without any other acquaintances or means to amuse herself.”
She brought him into the parlor and turned to him, but her smile fell when she saw his face. “What is it, Felix?”
“Is Father here?”
“I expect him at any moment.”
The sound of the key in the lock gave Felix his answer. Mr. Harwood walked in, looking weary, but he smiled when he saw Felix. “You have come early. Margaret, will you see to some tea?”
“Yes, Father,” she said, but Felix stopped her.
“Don’t go for tea yet, I have something to say, and Megs, you should hear it, too.”
Their father went still, eyeing Felix, then gestured to the sofa. “Let us sit, then.”
They sat facing each other in the comfortable chairs of their rented parlor, and Felix scarcely knew how to begin. He was generally of a cheerful disposition, and this hopelessness—this heaviness—was a first.
“I have not had a chance to tell you, or rather I have not dared to tell you.” He smiled feebly. “But I have used half of my inheritance to purchase a house in Russell Square.”
Their father absorbed this in silence for a long moment before returning a cautious answer. “It was quickly done, son, but the money was yours, and I suppose you must have a house of your own. I had thought that maybe in Sussex…” He let the reflection dangle, but what was done was done.
Felix continued, prey to the feeling that he was climbing a steep hill, each confession harder to make than the last. “I had hopes for Lady Sophia Rowlandson, sister to the Earl of Poole and Lord Chawleigh’s neighbor. I do not believe her indifferent to me and had planned to ask for her hand in marriage.”
“Oh, Felix,” Margaret said, her eyes shining. “I do like her.”
Their father studied Felix’s expression and appeared to read what was there. “I fear you mean to tell us your efforts were not successful. It is not the moment to remind you of the warning I gave you, so I shall not do that.”
Although his father’s expression had softened, Felix still felt the reproach in his words—and the injustice in them.
“I would not refrain from speaking to her of my feelings, not for any filial respect I might feel toward you, Father. My feelings could not be suppressed, and I was—am—certain that she returns them. Besides, as owner of a respectable house, and with both annual salary and honorable position to my name, I did not wish to deprive either her or myself of a life of happiness simply out of consideration of a difference in station.”
“But she said no?” Meg guessed softly, looking at him.
Felix sighed. “I believe she would have said yes, but we were interrupted. Robert Cunningworth somehow tracked me down and spouted off all sorts of false claims about me in front of her. He called me a hypocrite for preaching reform while living off of two patrons—Lord Chawleigh in my early years and then more recently, the admiral.”
“There is nothing in it that he didn’t know before.” Mr. Harwood furrowed his brows, likely wishing to understand Robert’s aim in hurting Felix—especially since he had treated Robert as a son while he boarded with them.
“He created conclusions built on the faulty knowledge he had. He accused the admiral of having bought my compliance, saying that my ideas for reform were not my own. The admiral’s secretary has been collecting petitions on the behalf of widows for me to bring before Parliament, and a subscription fund has been started to relieve their greatest needs. He has confounded the two, claiming I am pocketing money for favors given.”
Bitterness rose up in Felix as he thought of it. “And he has accused me of using that money to purchase the house in Bloomsbury. Except for a direct mention of Russell Square, it’s all in the gossip sheets.
“On—” Felix reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out the letter from the baron. “Father, forgive me, but this came from Lord Chawleigh today. It appears the false accusations are to extend to you.”
He handed the letter over and waited while his father skimmed its brief contents. Margaret was pale-faced, watching their father. He was sorry to bring her into this as well, but she was old enough not to be shielded from what was to be a family trial. They would need to face it together.
Their father folded the letter and leaned back in his chair. He steepled his hands and lifted his eyes to the ceiling as he often did when he was thinking. “It appears he means to subjugate me by removing his favor.”
