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“Well, it will be now, I’d imagine.”
“It won’t. He needs to marry money. Why can no one acknowledge that simple truth?”
Mrs. Pell wrapped a hand around Cynthia’s elbow and tugged her to a chair. “Because life is not so simple. Sit down.”
Cynthia sat, relieved to take the weight off her shaky legs.
“I came to Cantry Manor in 1813. You’ll remember my son, Tom. He was a tiny baby at the time, and now a grown man living in India, of all places.”
“Yes, I know. Your husband died at sea.”
“That was a lie. I’ve never told anyone the truth. I wasn’t a widow, and there was never a husband.” She swept a few crumbs off the table as if she hadn’t just said something spectacularly shocking.
“Pardon?”
“Tom’s father was my sweetheart. I didn’t come from a wealthy family, but we were respectable all the same. We owned the local inn and my da’ rented horses as well. When I turned up pregnant, there was no doubt I’d marry. No shame in an early birth, you know, so long as you’ve signed your name at the church.”
Stunned into silence, Cynthia nodded.
“He was the local vicar, so—”
Her throat abruptly unlocked. “He was what?”
“So I would have led a comfortable, respectable life as his wife. But when I told him I was pregnant, he slapped me.” Mrs. Pell’s hands finally stilled, and she stared hard at them. “He slapped me and called me a grasping whore. Apparently he thought he’d at least work his way up to the local squire’s daughter, increase his social standing with a fine marriage. But he was caught and that was that. He would marry the innkeeper’s daughter instead.”
“Oh, Mrs. Pell. That’s awful!”
“It was awful, and I couldn’t accept it. I didn’t have to spend my whole life in service, Cynthia. I chose it, because I couldn’t bear the thought of that man spitting on me every day for the rest of my life. I’d thought he loved me, and I wouldn’t settle for less.”
Cynthia clasped her hands around Mrs. Pell’s. “But you see, I don’t want to be that to Nick either. I won’t be the one to bring him low.”
“He’s already been brought low, child, and it had nothing to do with you, did it?”
“We don’t know that’s true.”
“Then ask him. There are some things in life more important than money. I’d wager Lord Lancaster already knows that.”
“Knows what?” his deep voice asked from behind her. She could tell by the slight echo of the words and the sound of his boot heels that he was still in the hall and likely hadn’t heard anything else. Thank God.
Mrs. Pell, more cunning than Cynthia had suspected, smiled and pushed to her feet. “He knows that if he doesn’t keep my lovely girl safe I’ll box his ears.”
“Ah, yes. He does know that. Are you ready, Cyn?”
“I am.” And yet she just sat there, dreading the moment to come.
Nick cleared his throat. “Well then. I’ll let you say your good-byes. Though I’m sure we’ll be back in a matter of days.”
Cynthia forced herself to her feet, crying even before Mrs. Pell’s arms came around her.
The housekeeper tutted and murmured wordless sounds as Cynthia choked out inelegant sobs. “Come now. None of that.”
“Come with me to America,” Cynthia whispered hopelessly. They’d had this discussion too many times. Mrs. Pell didn’t even answer, she only shook her head.
“But you’ll be all alone here.”
“That’s how I like it. What in the world would I do in a place like New York? I can’t even fathom that number of people.”
Cynthia sniffed into her shoulder.
