Page 83 of A Lady in Name

She thought his thin features registered surprise, but in the darkness of the passage she could not be sure.

“One moment, if you please.”

He disappeared into the taproom, and Lucy waited, in a state of impatience and agitation. The instant he came out, she called to him again. “Pray come into the parlour.”

He did as she asked, and Lucy closed the door behind him, then moved to the other side of the table, the better to confront him.

“Miss Lucy, I did not expect to see you. And so soon. Why have you returned?”

Lucy thought she detected a little rise of expectation as he looked at her through his spectacles. “I have come expressly to see you.”

Was it the light of hope? Lucy took some satisfaction from the knowledge that if it was, she was about to dash it from his eyes.

“You have not come alone, I trust?” he asked, seeming to realise for the first time there was no one else in the room.

“No, I have not.”

She did not elaborate. Wherever Stefan was at this moment, there would be time enough for Mr Waley to learn of his presence.

“Mr Waley.” A quick frown came into his face, and Lucy was pleased to note her tone had an effect. “Yesterday I was at St Bride’s church in Much Marcle.” He started. Was there a shade of guilt? “I learned there that my mother Alice Oade was married to the late Lord Pennington some six months before I was born.”

She waited for some sign of surprise or exclamation. Mr Waley did indeed raise his brows, and draw in his cheeks, making his face ever more skeletal. But he did not speak.

Lucy was struck anew with the flood of resentment that had assailed her last night. “Can you not guess why I have come, Mr Waley? You were curate there at that time. The entry was written in your hand, for I recognised it almost immediately.”

His lips pursed, and he looked away from her. “Yes. Yes, I suppose it was certain you must do so, were you ever to see it.”

“But you never meant me to see it, did you?” she blazed, moving closer. “How could you keep it from me? You must have known — or remembered — when my aunt told you and you looked for the entry of my birth in the church here. It could not have escaped you. Pray do not try to tell me so, for I know for a fact you revisited St Bride’s in the recent past.”

The curate swayed a little, and staggered slightly. Lucy started forward automatically, but he held up a hand to stop her. “I am all right. If you will forgive me, I will sit down for a moment.”

Lucy went to the table and tugged out a chair with some violence, looking at him pointedly.

“Thank you.” He sat, and Lucy saw how his breathing seemed shallow. Despite all, her compassion was stirred. “Are you unwell, Mr Waley?”

He shook his head. “A little shocked, that is all. I did not expect this.” He put a hand to his chest and kept it there. “How did you come to be searching for that entry? How did you know of the marriage?”

“By a method you could not have foreseen.” Her unreasoning anger was dissipating. She pulled out another chair and sat down near him. “Lord Pennington had told his secret to only one person. She is an old lady now, and perhaps her ability to hold to discretion is impaired.”

Mr Waley nodded. “God works in mysterious ways.”

“Why did you do it, Mr Waley?” Lucy’s tone was almost gentle. “You knew my distress at believing I was Lord Pennington’s love child.”

“Yes, I knew it,” the curate agreed heavily. “You will not believe it, I dare say, but I thought it was for the best.”

“How could it be?”

A hand wavered. “Bear with me, Miss Lucy. I will come to it.”

She wanted to urge him, but Lucy held her tongue, waiting for him to arrive at his explanation.

“I did not remember it at first. It was a long time ago, and I had no reason to connect you with the event until I understood the circumstances of your birth. But the names niggled at me, until at last I recalled the marriage I had witnessed. I did go to St Bride’s. I had to be sure.” He withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. “After, I deliberated long and hard, Miss Lucy. It did not seem to me likely that the noble family of Pennington might welcome what must undoubtedly prove a skeleton in their closet. I feared your impulsive nature would lead you to seek them out. I feared even more that you would meet with a rebuff, which must be more painful than to think yourself a natural daughter of the family.”

“That won’t fadge!”

The voice was dry and Lucy started almost as violently as did Mr Waley. She shot a look to the door where Stefan was standing, his hand upon its edge.

He shut it and came into the room, even as the curate rose shakily from his chair. Lucy knew from the glint at Stefan’s eye that he was furious. But before she could intervene, he was addressing the curate.