Page 9 of Thief of the Ton
Lavinia heard the cane rap on the floorboards. A sign of irritation—not that Aunt Edna tended to show any other emotion.
“That settles it!” Aunt Edna cried. “The child must come to live at Springfield Park. Charles would have no objection, and he can furnish her with a dowry.”
“What—lose my only child?” Papa said. “No, Edna—I won’t allow it! She’s all I have left.”
His voice cracked, and Lavinia’s heart tightened at the sorrow in his tone.
Oh, Papa, what have they done to you?
“This isn’t the time for sentiment, Richard,” Aunt continued. “You’ve been too indulgent with the child. She needs a firm hand to mold her into a lady.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Lavinia,” Papa replied. “I’ll not take charity.”
“If I don’t intervene, Lavinia will end up penniless in the gutter!” Aunt Edna said. “Or worse, she’ll end up selling her favors like that whore.”
“Edna, for heaven’s sake!” Papa cried. “I—” He broke off in a fit of coughing.
Unable to bear it any longer, Lavinia pushed open the door and rushed into the parlor.
Papa was bent forward, coughing, his face a deep shade of puce. He glanced up and fended Lavinia off with his hand.
“Lavinia, how many times have I told you not to eavesdrop?”
“I won’t leave!” Lavinia said. “I won’t! And I like it here—I don’t want to live with Aunt Edna!”
“How dare you!” Aunt Edna cried. “Richard, this is disgraceful behavior. If this continues, she’ll ruin our family name.”
“The de Grande family name is nothing to be proud of anymore,” Papa said. “Not when it’ll die out with me.”
“I meantmyfamily name!” Aunt Edna snapped. “It’s due to Charles’s good grace that you’re not out on the streets. If you don’t wish to sink further before your demise, you must leave the girl’s education to me.”
Papa slumped back in the chair, defeat in his eyes.
“You’re right, Edna,” he said, “and I’m in no position to refuse. But I must insist that the child lives here with me. She can visit you weekly at Springfield Park, where you can oversee her education.”
“Daily.”
“Very well.”
Lavinia opened her mouth to protest, but Aunt Edna shot her a look of fury.
“How old is she, Richard?”
“I’m seven,” Lavinia replied. Then she jumped as Aunt Edna rapped her cane on the floorboards.
“Donotspeak before your elders!” Aunt Edna cried. “You speak when you’re spoken to.” She tilted her head to one side, staring at Lavinia, as if performing a calculation in her head. “That gives me at least ten years, provided the child doesn’t drive me into an early grave,” she said. “I pray that it will be enough—though, from what I’ve seen, I’ll have a hard task on my hands.”
“Tenyears?” Lavinia replied. “Won’t we have returned to Fosterley by then?”
Aunt Edna rose to her feet, her fact twisted with fury. “Did I not just tell you, child, that—”
“No, Lavinia,” Papa said. “I’m afraid we won’t be returning to Fosterley for some time—if ever.”
Lavinia’s gut twisted with sorrow. “But—what about my friend?”
“What friend?”
Lavinia’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “We used to play make-believe.”
