her that only a very foolish or naive individual believed that all was always as it appeared. Rebecca opened the note and began reading.
I received your latest letter and read it with a feeling best described as relief, pleased to discover that you and Meredith are finally being sensible about this grave matter. Giving Rebecca’s child to the Earl and Countess of Hampton to raise as their own is the only possible recourse, the only road to salvation for our family. ’Tis the only way we will be saved from certain disgrace and ruin, the only way to save your reputation and our family’s honor. A parish will forgive a beloved vicar much, but the bastard grandchild of a man of God is not something that would ever be tolerated or accepted. Nor should it be.
Rebecca’s child? Bastard grandchild? Given to the Earl and Countess of Hampton to raise? Rebecca gasped for air. Her lungs felt tight, her chest heavy. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The child had been given to another? How could this be? Surely there must be some mistake? The babe she had carried within her body for nine long months had been stillborn, robbed of life before it even began.
They had told her. The midwife first, then her great-aunt. They had told her it was a merciful act of God and that she should feel grateful that the infant had not survived.
But Rebecca had not felt grateful. She had felt hollow and distraught and sad. She had cried for months, had mourned for years, had dreamt frequently, still dreamt, of the infant girl, the baby that had been created from love and passion. The baby she had never seen, had never held.
The child that was alive! It had survived! Pain, shock and confusion rolled around in Rebecca’s head. She felt herself pitching forward. Shaking, she clutched the edge of the wooden crate so hard her knuckles turned white. “Is this another dream?” she whispered.
At that moment the study door opened. Rebecca panicked, thinking Mrs. Maxwell had returned, but to her great relief it was her brother, Daniel, who walked into the room.
“My God, Rebecca, what’s wrong?”
Her heart and head pounding, Rebecca pushed herself to stand upright. Daniel moved close to grasp her elbow and steady her and she was grateful for the support. Her knees felt so weak.
“Rebecca?”
She shook her head. So many thoughts pounded through her mind that she could not seize upon any one, could not make sense of anything.
“The letter…I found a letter…here among Father’s papers. I don’t…please, just read it.”
Daniel took the letter from her trembling hand and began to read. Rebecca drew in a tight breath, her eyes fixed on her brother’s face. It seemed to take forever, but suddenly his expression changed dramatically and she knew he had reached the section about the baby. Her baby! With a sob, Rebecca closed her eyes, trying to slow her breathing, struggling to calm the accelerated beat of her heart.
“Bloody hell, Becca, this is a shock.”
Rebecca cleared her throat, searching his face for a glimmer of hope. “Then you believe it is the truth? The infant was given away?”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
The kindness and sympathy in Daniel’s voice was her undoing. The tears began to trickle down her cheeks and then the sobs overtook them.
Wordlessly, Daniel gathered her close. Rebecca leaned into his strength, pressing her face against his linen shirt. He smelled faintly of tobacco and starch and expensive, spicy cologne, an oddly comforting combination.
“If only I could spare you this additional pain,” he whispered.
“’Tis agony to learn of this betrayal…and yet…” Rebecca’s sobs lessened as the full impact of this discovery began to register in her mind. “I cannot comprehend why Mother and Father did this to me and frankly my head is spinning too fast to even consider forgiving them for their part in this cruel duplicity. Yet miraculously the initial hurt and bitterness I feel has not succeeded in overshadowing the joy in this news.”
“Joy?”
Rebecca smiled as the final tear ran down her cheek. “She is alive! My sweet little girl, the best part of me and Philip is alive!”
“And apparently the daughter of an earl,” Daniel interjected dryly.
It did not matter. Rebecca pushed that reality swiftly to the back of her mind. “I must find her. Oh, my darling baby. Well, not a baby really. She is six years old. Daniel, please, will you help me?”
He did not say anything at first. She had always suspected that her brother suffered pangs of guilt because he had not been here to support her during this tumultuous time in her life. They had been close as children, but the passing of time and the physical distance between them had taken its toll on their relationship.
Beyond a surface knowledge of his business and financial success, Rebecca realized she knew very little about the man her brother had become, knew almost nothing of his attitudes and opinions. As adults they were in essence strangers. Did he believe her parents had acted in her best interests? In the best interest of the child?
Would he refuse her request for help or even worse, order her to drop the matter entirely? The silence went on for so long that Rebecca began to fear hearing his answer.
“We have never spoken of your child, Rebecca.” Daniel’s voice was rough with contained emotion. “Father wrote to me, first to tell me about the child and later to say it had not survived. Both letters contained very little details. Will you tell me what happened?”
The request startled Rebecca, bringing forth a rush of emotions. The memories of her past were difficult to endure, wracked with pain, regret and sorrow. Yet if she wanted Daniel’s help, he deserved to hear the truth.
Fearing her legs would not hold her, she moved back, seating herself in her father’s desk chair. Daniel remained on his feet.
“We were very much in love, Philip and I. He was a wonderful man. Kind, intelligent, ambitious. Handsome. How I wish you could have known him. You would have liked him, Daniel, I am certain of it.”
Her brother smiled, but made no comment. Rebecca continued.
“I was over the moon when Philip asked me to be his wife and beyond delighted when Father gave us his blessing. Philip was just beginning his career as a barrister and his future success seemed assured. We became engaged and then rather reluctantly agreed with Father’s strong opinion that it would be best to wait until Philip became more established, more financially secure before he took on the burden of a wife.
“It was difficult waiting to be married. As much for me as for Philip, I believe. We missed each other dreadfully when we were apart and schemed constantly to have time alone together. We were clever, Philip and I, and succeeded more often than not. Yet beyond the love we shared, there was deep longing and passion between us and then one night, when we so boldly managed to be alone, things got…carried away.”
“Did he pressure you? Force you?”
Rebecca flinched. “Oh, no. It was nothing like that at all. We were mad for each other, equal in our delight of the…the physical expression of our love and commitment. I thought it was wondrous and blissful and beautiful.”
Her cheeks heated with embarrassment, but Rebecca
