Hope - Lesley Pearse [269]
‘Well, Albert was the main thing,’ she began cautiously, unsure that she could even explain it in a way he could understand.
She had forgotten what a good listener he was. Apart from getting her to expand on a couple of points, he didn’t interrupt.
‘My God,’ he exclaimed as she finished. ‘I knew Hope had a very tough streak but I wouldn’t have thought her capable of taking on that blackguard. But how was she afterwards? That is not a pretty image to be left in anyone’s mind.’
Nell agreed. ‘But that wasn’t all,’ she went on. ‘Before Albert died he told Rufus about you and his mother.’
Angus winced. ‘Can I expect him to come round here like a mad bull?’
Nell smiled faintly. ‘No, he was upset at first, but not now. You see, her ladyship chose to tell both him and Hope something else that day too. And you might be the mad bull when I admit my part in that.’
‘Go on,’ he said, leaning forward in his chair.
‘That Hope was her daughter, and you are Hope’s father.’
He looked at Nell in puzzlement. ‘I don’t understand. How can I be? Hope is your sister.’
Nell began to tremble then, afraid he was going to be angry she hadn’t told him this when she first came to work for him, or even after Sir William Harvey’s death.
It was far harder telling him than it had been to explain it to Hope. She stumbled over the words, she wept, and she felt afraid because his expression was so stern and cold.
‘I didn’t have any choice but to go along with it then,’ she cried when she’d finished. ‘I didn’t know you then, or who her father was. I was so young myself and I needed my position because my folks depended on my wages. I didn’t tell her ladyship that the baby hadn’t died until the day I left Briargate.
‘I am truly sorry I didn’t feel able to tell you before. But you see, I gave her ladyship my promise.’
He sighed deeply, sat back in his chair and closed his eyes.
The rain was still pouring down outside, splattering against the windows, and the wind was howling in the chimney. Nell squirmed in her chair, expecting that at any moment he would make an angry outburst.
‘Why didn’t Anne write and tell me she was carrying my child?’ he asked eventually, his voice shaking with emotion. ‘I would have come for her, taken care of her.’
‘You know why. She knew her reputation would be lost. You might have lost your commission.’
‘I’d have worked as a farm labourer if necessary,’ he spat out. ‘I’d have overcome every obstacle, fought any battle for her.’
‘I know that now,’ Nell said softly. ‘And I think she always knew it too. But it was a tough time for her; she cared for her husband, and her position. Maybe if Bridie hadn’t told her the baby was dead it might have been different.’
He asked her a great many questions, about both Anne and Hope. Nell thought he was never going to get to the end of them. She was so tired, it had seemed an interminable day, and all she wanted was her bed.
‘And how did Hope feel when she was told the man she’d always called Father wasn’t her real one, or that you aren’t even her sister?’ he said finally. ‘It is no wonder she came close to losing her mind!’
‘You will have to ask her that yourself, sir,’ Nell said wearily. ‘She hasn’t said much about it to me. But I do know she is very fond of you.’
‘She saved my life in Balaclava,’ he said with feeling. ‘I have seen men die from far lesser wounds than I had. She has a healing touch. One of the other officers asked me soon after that if she was a relative of mine as he thought we were very alike.’
‘You are alike, sir.’ Nell nodded. ‘The first time I met you I knew you were her father, just by your looks. I wondered that her ladyship didn’t see it.’
‘Mostly we only see things we want to see,’ he replied, and smiled. ‘And I see you are tired, Nell. Go to bed now.’
Angus stared pensively into the fire for over an hour after Nell had gone to bed, his thoughts bittersweet. Anne’s death was sad, but not entirely unexpected, for when he’d seen her at William’s funeral she had looked old and seemed confused, and he