Papa rose from his seat whilst brushing his trousers and tugging his cuffs, ignoring everything else as he turned to the parlor door just as the policemen were ushered in by a trembling maid.
Whatever anguish and accusations were tossed about mere seconds ago vanished as Mama threw herself between them and her husband whilst Lionel demanded to know what they were doing (as if that weren’t patently clear). All thoughts of fraud vanished in a flash, leaving behind a self-righteous indignation over their husband and father being held accountable for the evil he’d put into the world.
Papa merely sighed.
“Stop making spectacles of yourselves,” he said, waving one hand toward the family as though the entire affair were some minor social misstep. “This is nonsense. It will be handled quickly enough.”
“Virgil,” Mama whispered, but he did not look at her.
“I am not a man to be trifled with, and there is no evidence,” he continued, his gaze sweeping over the policemen with open contempt. “Only the hysterical accusations of a bitter daughter and the embellishments of a reporter looking to sell newspapers. I have dealt with worse than this before.”
Papa’s gaze finally settled on Nora, a hush blanketing the room as the family all turned to her. For one suspended instant, he seemed almost amused by the whole matter, then the constables moved to take him, and his expression hardened into something thin and bitter.
“Well done, my girl,” he said quietly. “You have sold away your future and only managed to mildly inconvenience me.”
And then they led him from the room. But none of the family watched Papa’s departure, for their attention remained entirely on Nora.
Chapter 40
“What have you done?” demanded Lionel, with a look so wild and stricken that Nora scarcely recognized him. “What were you thinking? Did you imagine yourself some grand heroine bringing justice to the world? Did you consider what this would do to the rest of us?”
“He did it,” said Nora, her brows lowering as she glanced at the angry faces gathered round her. “Lionel, you heard him. He confessed.”
“And so you handed your father to the newspapers? To the police?” cried Mama, her face crumpled as grief and fury stripped away every ounce of softness. “You took this family’s private shame and delivered it up to amuse the public?”
Nora’s fingers curled into her skirts, though she forced her voice to remain firm. “But he stole from people. He ruined them. Papa must be stopped before it grows worse.”
“‘Before it grows worse?’” Mama echoed, a harsh, disbelieving breath breaking from her as she gestured at the doorway through which Papa had vanished. “Look around you. Thisisworse. This is ruin. And this isyourdoing.”
Nora stared at the lady, unable to make sense of the shape the argument had taken. Papa had admitted it. Before all of them, without a whisper of remorse. The fraud, the lies, themoney gone, all of it laid bare in his own voice, yet they looked at her with disgust and anger.
“I did not make him guilty,” she whispered. “I only told the truth.”
Tossing the newspaper aside, Lionel rubbed at his face, leaving a smear of ink on his cheek. “No, you paraded our private business into the public eye. We do not even know what was done precisely—”
“Are you mad, Lionel?” said Nora, a burst of heat warming her words. “He stood in this very room and confessed! His business has been a lie from the first, and I shan’t be a part of it!”
Gretchen leapt from her seat, her hand cocking back and flying forward with all her strength, cracking across Nora’s cheek before she knew it was coming. Gaping, Nora held her hand to the place and stepped backward as her sister railed.
“Papa gave you everything, and this is how you repay him—”
“No, he didn’t. It was the people he stole from that gave us all that we have.” Nora struggled to form the words, for she couldn’t believe she needed to speak them. Glancing about, her eyes widened as she saw nothing but fury directed back at her, and for several moments, she could do nothing but stand there with her palm pressed to her burning cheek, the sting spreading hot beneath her fingers.
Papa had confessed, yet that fact slipped from the room like smoke, and Nora’s throat tightened around words that would not come as the parlor splintered around her. Gretchen and Mama spewed forth accusations and insults whilst Camilla burst into tears and Lionel paced with frantic steps. Voices rose over one another until meaning dissolved into chaos, and Nora’s cheek burned, though the sting was a distant pain compared to the ache spreading from her heart.
She had done the right thing. The thought came faintly now, small and battered beneath the weight of so many accusing eyes, but Nora clung to it for there was nothing else left to hold.
***
A fine drizzle settled over Berkeley Square, making the white façades gleam; water gathered along the iron railings and dripped in slow beads from the eaves and windowsills. It was not enough rain to force everyone indoors, but enough to dampen Jonathan’s hat and darken the shoulders of his coat.
Yet he could not look away from No. 27. Standing upon the pavement, Jonathan couldn’t decide whether this was kind or presumptuous, so the minutes ticked away as he studied the windows, though no movement could be seen from within. Perhaps it was a bit of both, but Jonathan could not allow the sun to set without letting her know.
Mounting the steps before better judgment could seize him by the collar and drag him back to Holborn, Jonathan lifted the knocker and let it fall. The sound rang sharply against the door, ringing through the quiet square, and his hand dropped to his side as he waited. It opened to reveal a footman whose composed expression had the strained blankness of a household attempting dignity while disaster moved through the corridors behind him.
“I am here to see Miss Nora Eden,” Jonathan said.
“Miss Eden is not receiving visitors, sir.”
