Page 43 of The Viscount of Shadows

“What did she have, the illness you spoke of?”

“Consumption, or tuberculosis, whatever it is called now. And it slowly and insidiously consumed her. She hid her failing health as much as she could from Danaher. He was not all that observant at the best of times, at least as far as anyone in distress. For what did he care about? Nothing at all. Only his own comforts—or maybe not even that.”

“Watching your mother fade away must have been difficult,” Oliver said solemnly.

“Oh, yes. My mother was my companion and friend. There were only sixteen years between us. About a week before she died, she took my hand and made me promise that as soon as she passed, I must escape Notting Dale before Danaher found out. My mother did not trust him to leave me alone. How could I abandon her in that awful shack? I had already gone to Whinstone, so there was no other option.”

Revealing this part of her life was more challenging than Claudia imagined. It stirred up complicated emotions long buried. Feelings she believed would never surface again. Guilt, grief, fear of the unknown. Resentment. And unwavering love and sacrifice. Mix that with her turbulent emotions toward Oliver, and she wondered if she could ever hide her feelings again. How disturbing.

“Wait,” Oliver said. “Whinstone became involved with your mother when she was sixteen?”

“The age of consent was thirteen at the time. It was raised to sixteen in ’85. Not that Whinstone cared about any of that. Yes, I know the laws regarding this. My mother made certain Danaher understood them as far as I was concerned.”

“Where were your mother’s parents in all this?”

“My mother never talked about her past much, though she revealed that her detestable father sold her to Whinstone in lieu of a debt. I thought such a loathsome act was illegal.”

“It has been—for many decades. But it is still done in secret. Your mother enduring such a fate fills me with rage. The injustice of it all.”

“Me as well. When my mother tried to locate her parents one afternoon shortly after her father handed her over to Whinstone, she discovered they had moved. No forwarding address.”

Oliver cursed under his breath.

“Why should this surprise you? Women are treated as possessions, as are children. Regardless of recent changes in the laws,” Claudia stated. “More needs to be done.”

“I shouldn’t be astonished, but it angers me, nonetheless. But this isn’t about me or my feelings on the matter. You and your mother deserved a better life. So does anyone in such circumstances. But nothing ever seems to change, regardless of a few good men in Parliament trying to eke out fair laws for all. It is disheartening. So, what happened to you after your mother passed away?”

Swallowing hard, she dashed a tear from her cheek. “Leaving was the hardest thing I had ever done. My mother managed to save a few shillings. I used that to find my way to the East End. I have no idea what happened to my mother. I told the neighbor that she had died and to call the authorities. Mrs. Bridle was trustworthy enough. I watched as she headed toward the Lancaster Police Station, so I left.”

“We can discover where your mother is buried. Since ’37, all records have been kept by the state, not churches, as in the past. There will be an account of her death and burial.”

“I’ve never told anyone this,” Claudia whispered. “Thank you for not judging my past.”

“I would never do that, not for you or anyone.”

Oliver’s empathy comforted her. His words reverberated with emotion, giving her the courage to reveal her past and expose the never-healed wounds. “I have felt alone since her death.”

“It appears you are as lonely as I am.”

Claudia’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You? Lonely? You have a large and loving family, friends from your group, and probably more besides. You are not speaking sense. Your fever is starting to affect you, which is worrying.”

Oliver shook his head. “It is not my fever talking. Being alone is more of a physical state. Lonely is feeling alone in a crowd. My doctor friend told me that feeling that way is caused by a fear of intimacy. At least, that is one of the reasons. What he said gave me pause, for it describes me more than I realized. He also mentioned trauma, but that aspect doesn’t define me. Although it fits you, does it not? You have been dealing with trauma for much of your life.”

Blast the man for seeing inside her. Her lower lip trembled as she tried to hold back the intense emotions sweeping through her. Claudia took a shuddering breath.

Oliver held out his hand. “Come, let me hold you.”

Oh, how tempting.

This susceptibility was blasted annoying, but on another level, sharing her past turned out to be cathartic. It felt like part of a crushing weight had been lifted from her. Against her better judgment, she crawled next to Oliver as if they were two spoons in a drawer. Claudia drew in another quivering breath, then exhaled.

“It is all right, Claudia. You can cry. Do not hold it in any longer. I have you. I will hold you close for as long as you wish. What little strength I have at the moment—is yours.”

And with those softly-spoken, compassionate words, Claudia let the tears come.