Page 35 of A Lady in Name

“Pray can you help me, Mr Waley? I know Papa kept note of all events that occurred in his church, and surely the occasion of my birth must be laid down somewhere? Or my real mother’s death was recorded, perhaps.”

Mr Waley had been bending an outraged glare upon Stefan, but he turned back at this, a frown drawing his brows together above the spectacles. “What is it you wish to discover?”

“Why, anything. Some little fragment that may point me where I may look for my mother’s people.”

To her surprise and dismay, he came closer and took the hand she had inadvertently waved in her agitation, holding it between both his own. His tone became almost avuncular. “Is this wise, my dear Miss Lucy? Is it not a step upon the road to misery and disappointment, perhaps?”

“Good God, what are you trying to do to the girl?” Stefan again, disgust in his voice. “If Lucy wants to discover her mother, who are you to presume to discourage her, sir? Do you imagine she will be less miserable for being kept in ignorance?”

“Stefan, pray hush,” uttered Lucy, retrieving her hand and casting an unloving look upon his lordship. “Mr Waley’s scruples do him honour.” She turned again to the curate, hoping she had smoothed his ruffled temper. “You are right to be cautious, Mr Waley. And very kind. But I am too anxious to find out what I may to be able to sit still upon the matter.” She gave him a penitent smile. “Papa would have told you how stubborn I can be once I have the bit between my teeth.”

He hesitated, and Lucy was thankful to see Dion had dragged her brother to one side and was urgently whispering in his ear. She only hoped he might be kept in check, or all her efforts to engage Mr Waley’s assistance might be vain.

At length the curate’s bony shoulders sagged. “Very well, if you are determined on this course.” Without hesitation, he went to the sideboard and bent to open the cupboard. He withdrew another set of large books, rose and laid them on the top. Lucy watched him sift through them, picking out one volume. He opened it and flicked through the pages. A pang smote Lucy as she recognised Papa’s hand in the neat entries, but it dissipated as she realised Mr Waley seemed to know exactly what he was looking for.

He located a particular page and ran his finger down the lines. It stopped, and he kept it in place, looking up at Lucy. “Here. You may find this of interest.”

She eyed him with a resurgence of the excitement that had attended her first hopes on entering the vestry. Then she moved swiftly to the sideboard as the curate shifted to make room for her, but keeping his finger upon the place. Lucy cast her eyes upon the entry.

With one accord, her cousins came to look over her shoulder.

“Birth,” Lucy read aloud. “Lucinda Graydene Ankerville, on the fifteenth day of April, seventeen hundred and eighty-one. A girl, born to Alice, believed Oake or Oade, not of this parish, deceased, and Beves Ankerville of the county of Hereford.”