Page 54 of A Secret Infatuation
“Robert also mentioned something about this when he confronted me. But I don’t see what the baron could do.”
Mr. Harwood brought his eyes to Felix, then to Margaret. “He could be slow in paying my tithes and refuse repairs on the house that were promised. And he could suggest to the more influential members of the parish that I am not to be trusted.”
“How could he do something so cruel?” Margaret demanded. “And there is no truth to these claims!”
A faint smile appeared on their father’s face. “Although I know I need not defend myself to either of you, allow me to reassure you that Mr. Thurlow engaged me to be the executor of his will with the full consent of his heirs. My coming to London for probate had nothing to do with any question of my meddling in his inheritance for my own gains. I was required to come because he has property in more than one diocese. For these matters, it is necessary for the executor to come and present the will in person.”
“I believe you, Father,” Margaret said hotly.
“Indeed, I did not need your reasons for coming to London,” Felix assured him. “It was just to inform you of what can only affect us all.”
After another short silence, it occurred to Felix that he ought to clear his own name as well.
“I hope I need not say that all of these accusations against me are false, as well. You knew of the baron’s support in those early years and his leading me to a clerical position in Brighton. As you requested, I continued to show Lord Chawleigh every sign of respect and do what I could for him, short of going against my own conscience. The admiral has not given me any money, other than what is expected to gain a seat. He and I think alike on reform, and that is why I am representing Gatton. It is not for financial gain.”
“We know that, Felix.” Margaret’s eyes still flashed in indignation that her father and brother could be accused of such falsehoods, and Felix felt an outpouring of affection for her.
“Nor did I need your justification in order to believe you,” Mr. Harwood stated.
“Robert has created his accusation out of partial truths. Regarding the subscription fund for widows, Admiral Mowbray was the first to put his name on the list, a fact I suppose was easy to distort. It seems Cunningworth has mixed the two up, ignoring certain facts and condemning me for both.”
“That is very, very wrong of him,” Margaret said indignantly. “I hope he will repent of this slander.” She turned to their father. “What can we do now?”
Mr. Harwood was not a man to rush his words, and he took his time before answering.
“I had not thought we would ever move. I am loath to leave your mother’s final resting place and start over elsewhere, but perhaps it is time. I met an old Oxford peer at Doctors’ Commons, and he offered to recommend me for a very comfortable living in Kent.”
“Oh!” Margaret’s eyes went wide.
“I told him I would think on it, but I had not seriously intended to take it. I am attached to my parish and to Sussex, and have never had any desire to uproot my family.” He laughed softly. “But perhaps this is a sign from Providence. I only hope Caro, Anne, and Mary will not be too overset by the change.”
“I think my sisters will look upon it as an adventure,” Margaret said with a firmness that showed her growing confidence. “As for myself, I can only think that moving closer to Felix would turn into a happy advantage for us all.” She smiled at him.
“Then I will think about it some more and seek out Mr. Blackwood tomorrow.” There was warmth in Mr. Harwood’s regard when he turned it to Felix. “And what is your plan to be?”
Felix was too weary to think. “Tonight, I shall dine with you. And then tomorrow, I believe I should pay a visit to the admiral and bring the petitions and attached subscriptions to the Commons as proof. I will have to defend my honor.”
The next day, Marie came as promised and informed Sophia that her father and Mr. Edwards believed that the gossips were up to mischief and that there was no basis to their claims. They were either purposefully misreading—or accidentally confounding—the subscription fund attached to the widows’ petitions, turning it into one where Mr. Harwood funneled the money into his own coffers. But such an offense was not easily done, not without risking exposure and banishment, besides the fact that neither of them thought Mr. Harwood to be such a man. As to the house he had purchased in Russell Square, her father knew nothing of it but vowed not to have given Mr. Harwood a farthing more than what was needed for his seat.
“Certainly he did not,” Sophia said. “Even if I do not know Mr. Harwood as well as I do your father, I cannot be convinced that either of them could participate in something so self-seeking.”
“And Bartholomew”—Marie looked self-conscious—“Mr. Edwards, rather, has promised to put together all the documentation needed to exonerate Mr. Harwood, so he might present it in the Commons.”
“It is good of him. I am very glad to hear it.” Sophia was beginning to feel hopeful again. “Thank you, Marie.”
Her friend hugged her and did not stay long after that. She had an appointment to meet Miss Edwards to apprise her of the news.
When she was alone, Sophia attempted to calm her mind, but the silence did not sit with her. She wanted to do something to help. The recollection of Felix’s mentioning Lady Henry came back to her, this small piece of information having been forgotten among all the rest of what had happened the day before. Even if she had no certain idea of how Lady Henry could assist her on Mr. Harwood’s behalf, she would at least be doing something good for the asylum. And she had to do something—anything—that was within her power. It was intolerable to sit and do nothing.
She sought out Turton. “Have a footman discover where Lord Henry Ashford lives, and then have the carriage readied. I must pay a call on his wife, Lady Henry.”
“Very well, Lady Sophia.” The butler went to do her bidding while she went upstairs and called for Margery to come and help her change into her best morning gown.
The groom was ready to set out within the hour, and Sophia mounted the carriage with her maid. What had seemed impossible before—the idea of paying a call on a woman with whom she was unacquainted to request an annual subscription for charity—suddenly seemed insignificant compared to what Mr. Harwood was going through.
She scarcely spoke on the way there, and when they reached Cavendish Square, George One helped her to alight. She stared up at the front door, her throat suddenly dry. There was nothing for it but to carry out her mission. Trailed by her maid, Sophia moved forward with purpose and presented her card to the footman there, who returned with the pleasing news that Lady Henry would receive her.
The footman indicated for Margery to follow one of their maids to the servants’ quarters, then turned to Sophia. “If you will follow me, my lady?”
