“He probably told you a great deal more than that,” Effie said tersely.
“He did, and having had several occasions now to make your acquaintance, I question whether any of it was true.”
Tears pricked the corners of Effie’s eyes. Knowing that Mr. Nancarrow had taken the measure of him thusly was surprisingly moving.
Knowing that Mr. Nancarrow was hisbrotherwas surprisingly moving.
He cleared his throat. “I am disinterested, but that was not always the case.”
“Ah,” Mr. Nancarrow said, infusing an inordinate amount of understanding into that single syllable. If only Leander’s single syllables were so empathic.
Effie wasn’t sure why, but he opened his mouth and told Mr. Nancarrow everything. He recounted his childhood interest in learning about the estate and explained how his father always rebuffed his ideas. Rebuffedhim. He shared a few examples of the childhood cruelties.
Through it all, Mr. Nancarrow listened. He listened deeply, studying Effie’s face as if he were a fascinating painting, and when Effie was done, he said, “Thank you for telling me all this, my lord.”
“You ought to drop the ‘my lord.’ We are brothers, are we not?”
We are brothers.How extraordinary.
“My friends call me Effie,” he went on. “But if you don’t care for that, you could call me Edward.”
Mr. Nancarrow smiled. He really did have the nicest smile. On the surface of things, it was the same as Father’s, but it managed to confer the opposite effect on its audience.
“And you should call me Kenver.” The smile disappeared. “At least in private.”
Oh. Yes. Effie supposed this was the part of the proceedings where the simple, profound joy of having discovered a brother would slowly be poisoned by the fact that they were sons of their specific father. “He is not prepared to acknowledge you, of course.”
“I . . . don’t know,” Kenver said, though Effie hadn’t meant his statement to be taken as a question. He’d have thought there was no way Father would acknowledge a by-blow, but he also wouldn’t have expected Father to put a by-blow through university and retain him as his steward.
“I found a document that I am . . . concerned about.” Kenver was speaking uncharacteristically haltingly. “That is why I’m here today. I want to show it to you.”
The paper Kenver handed Effie was a lance through his chest. Dear God. “I thought you said my father—our father—and your mother were never married!”
“I did say that.”
“But these are marriage lines!” A copy of the lines that would have been entered into the parish register book. The parish was the one encompassing Highworth, and the date before Effie’s own parents’ marriage.
Effie’s mind reeled and his heart beat wildly. He closed his eyes and tried to see Julianna’s flame. It worked, at least enough for his thoughts to un-jumble themselves and for his heart to slow. He opened his eyes. “If you made a claim with this at the Committee for Privileges, you’d be named heir.”
“Possibly.”
Effie eyed Mr. Nancarrow—he supposed he ought to revert to calling him Mr. Nancarrow now that it seemed he was being threatened. Blackmailed, perhaps.
The very idea made him want to weep. It was positively gutting to have had what felt like a breakthrough of fellow-feeling only to have it snatched away.
Well, the joke was on Mr. Nancarrow. Effie dropped the document on the table between them. “Well, have at it.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it—the title, the estate.”
“If this plan of your father’s were to succeed,” Mr. Nancarrow said, “it would make him a bigamist in the eyes of society—and the law. It would mean you and your sister would be deemed illegitimate. God knows what it would mean for your mother.”
Effie hadn’t thought of that, so carried away had he been by the momentary hope that he had stumbled on a way to escape his fate—and by the whiplash of having found a brother only to lose him—but of course Mr. Nancarrow was correct. Mother would have been quickening with Effie when Mr. Nancarrow was born. Effie wasn’t close to his mother, but he did feel a pang of sympathy for her. He thought of Sarah, and her hope for the future, the list of gentlemen she’d prevailed upon him to spy on.
Effie was surprised by the extremes Father was apparently prepared to go to, though upon further reflection, he wasn’t sure why. Was this any worse than locking a child in a wardrobe overnight?
“Why would he do this?” Kenver asked, his tone uncharacteristically strident.
