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“I’ve never sinned.” Susana didn’t miss a beat until Lady Fenton rebuked her gently.
“My dear, who hasn’t sinned whether in thought or deed? Why, to suggest that another is guilty of such a thing, and in company, is a sin in itself, and surely renders the one who makes such a charge a person of contempt.” She smiled graciously. “Are you so blameless and yet make such odious comparisons with your cousin Eliza?”
Susana blushed hotly. “I didn’t think it a crime to speak the truth. Besides, Eliza has no more devoted a cousin than myself, which I have already made entirely clear. Brave Eliza, yet I don’t know how she’d have managed without me and her Aunt Montrose when her parents cast her out.”
It was rare that Eliza was at a complete loss for words or that her insides churned so much. Indeed, not since she’d been forced to place Gideon into the foundling basket had she felt such emotion. Well, except for last night.
“I am sure a creature of such angelic demeanour as Miss Hilcrest could not possibly be guilty of any crime, however trifling. How can one look so like an angel and not have a clear conscience?”
Eliza stared at Mr Bramley, who was gazing at her cousin as if she were a gift from heaven. She couldn’t believe it. He looked, for want of a better word, smitten. But then that’s how he was—oleaginous. Oily. Slippery as an eel. He’d slip right out of this arrangement the moment he learned Eliza wasn’t worth a penny.
Beside him, Mr Patmore’s lips were pursed. He turned and offered Eliza a smile of support. What a noble, decent man he was.
She closed her eyes briefly. A good woman, a true and dutiful one, would reveal her wickedness to her intended before she accepted him. If Eliza could have done so, she would have, but it was only since last night that Mr Patmore had been a viable contender for her affections.
“Why, thank you for your support, Mr Bramley.” Susana said with a coy look at Mr Bramley just as Eliza had seen her do at the few Assembly Balls they’d attended. “I’m not accustomed to having slurs cast upon my good character.” She darted Lady Fenton a poisonous look while Eliza tried to meet Mr Patmore’s smile without revealing her fear. If Susana were in possession of Eliza’s sordid past actions, she realised how important it was to reveal everything to him before her cousin did. Or anyone else. Was it possible Susana knew about her past? Could anyone else? Eliza had only come to live with her aunt after Gideon had been taken from her, but despite Aunt Montrose’s disapproval, the older woman had sworn that Eliza’s secret would be safe, if only to protect the family name from being tarnished.
Susana raised her head and said proudly, with another look at Eliza, “I am proud of my blameless character and clear conscience.”
While Lady Fenton returned her scarcely veiled assurances that she’d had no intention of casting slurs upon Susana or anyone else, Eliza’s mind raced over the last few days that Aunt Montrose had been so ill. She remembered the crafty look on Susana’s face when Eliza had come back from stabling Devil’s Run with Mr Patmore and found Susana patting her aunt’s hand. But her aunt had been unable to speak. She couldn’t have revealed to Susana Eliza’s past.
Eliza clenched her hands into fists as she tried to hide her devastation. Why would Susana have so blithely spoken of Eliza’s sins when she never had before?
Mr Patmore, if he alone were in possession of the truth, might accept that Eliza had borne a child out of wedlock, but if this were ever to be made public, Eliza would be shunned by polite society. No husband could tolerate that. And as an unmarried woman, she could never hope to marry if her past were known. How could Susana have hinted at such a thing? How could she have been so cruel?
Very easily, of course, and it wouldn’t have been the first time, she thought bitterly. Susana had always wanted to take whatever Eliza had, whether it were ribbons or pretty earrings.
Forcing her gaze away from Mr Bramley’s face while avoiding Susana’s sneer, she was disconcerted to find Mr Patmore observing her covertly. Oh Lord, she didn’t need his sympathy. She didn’t need anyone’s sympathy. He must have attributed her painful preoccupation with her fears over what would transpire within the next hour.
Yet, whatever happened, Eliza owed it to Gideon to ensure he had a life worth living; that he not be reduced to mere servant status.
Mr Patmore turned to Mr Bramley and said in a voice light with amusement, “I’d be most interested whether you rest easy in your conscience, Mr Bramley. We gentlemen do seem to take for granted the licence to gamble and carouse to our heart’s content, but I wonder at what point each of us stops to think it’s time to adopt a more sober attitude, settle down…and marry.” He slanted
a look at Eliza before returning a gimlet eye upon his erstwhile friend.
“Conscience!” exclaimed Mr Bramley, with unexpected heat, turning a surprisingly fulminating glare upon Lady Fenton. “A subject that is indeed close to my heart. I wonder how some people can sleep at night, knowing that their sins have impinged upon the God-given rights of those whose very roofs they share.” He made a show of collecting himself. “I am most amused that my cousin, Lady Fenton, should cast aspersions upon the supposed sins of others,” here he directed a sympathetic look at Susana “when, as she so rightly points out, it is a very sin to suggest sin in another.”
There was an awkward pause before Mr Patmore said in an ameliorating tone, “I think a discussion on sin is hardly appropriate at such a time.”
To Eliza’s astonishment, Mr Bramley said rather fiercely, “I would say a funeral is the most fitting time to address it. Death is where we’re all destined, and one would wish to go there having enjoyed what one was due. It is a bitter pill to be cheated. I wonder how those who have come by ill-gotten gains can rest easy with their conscience.”
Lady Fenton gave a theatrical sigh before explaining to the rest of the company, “Poor Cousin George has never got over the fact that he was the Earl of Quamby’s heir until Young George was born. But would you not all spare a thought for poor Miss Montrose who doesn’t know if she’ll have a roof over her head by morning. Like you, Cousin George, she is at the mercy of matters beyond her control. It has nothing to do with the sins she has or hasn’t committed. It’s pure luck.” She gave a soft laugh, adding, “Nevertheless, a little cunning can go a long way. How could women survive without wit and cunning when we are given no legal rights, eh Cousin George?”
An excruciating silence followed her words, until Mr Bramley’s mouth turned into what Eliza supposed must be a smile but which looked more like a snarl. “Miss Hilcrest, my apologies for subjecting you to all this radical talk of women and rights and sin.”
Lady Fenton nodded in apparent approval. “Quite right, Cousin George; it’s not right to talk of sins and crime when we have two innocents among us.”
“Innocents? Pray, do not hold back on our account,” Susana said with a giggle. “A crime is a crime, and sometimes being forewarned of the dangers of the great world is being forearmed. I’d hate to think of committing a crime, simply because I didn’t know it was a crime.”
Mr Bramley shrugged and appeared to retreat into sullen indifference, and Eliza was about to interject to change the blessed subject when Lady Fenton said unwisely, though in a low tone apparently only intended for Eliza and Mr Fenton, “I apologise on Mr Bramley’s behalf, but he feels very strongly about the rights of the children of parents who have sinned, would you believe?”
“Whose mothers have sinned,” Mr Bramley muttered to Eliza’s horror and with a pointed look at Lady Fenton.
Lady Fenton raised her eyebrows. “Pray, what is the difference? I am more than in agreement that it’s an outrage that a child should bear the stigma of the actions of its parents, and it is one of society’s many unfairnesses that it’s the mother who bears full responsibility.”
Mr Patmore concurred with a resigned shrug of his shoulders. “Yes, there it is. We may call society harsh or unjust but one’s good name is everything, and once it is lost there is, sadly, no redemption.”
“Redemption for whom?” Susana’s apparently innocent question was followed by Mr Bramley’s, asked with mild aggression, “For child or mother?”
