Chapter Eighteen

"Really, Alexander. Are you writing letters again? Didn't you learn your lesson on Sunday?"

Holding back a sigh, I lifted my head from my work. "No, I am not writing a letter. I am managing the accounts, which involves writing in the accounts book," I said with as much patience as I could muster.

With a huff, Mother left the doorway to come to my desk. "Well, you can't deny that you have been hiding yourself in here. You haven't joined us for dinner this entire week."

"I have been busy." Which wasn't a lie. So much rain had caused a minor amount of flooding, and I had kept my eye on it to make sure it didn't become worse. That wasn't to say I hadn't been glad of the excuse.

Whether my cousin had apologized to his sister or not, there was an air of tension in the manor house. I didn't want to add to it, since I'd been a factor in the argument that had started the disagreement. It seemed better for me to keep my distance.

Mother raised an eyebrow. "I see. Well, I trust you will not be too busy to join us this evening. I did not come all this way to be ignored by my only son."

"I will see if it is possible," I said, unwilling to promise something that I couldn't be sure I would be able to keep. "Was there something else you needed from me? Have you had a letter from Dunn by chnace?"

My question made my mother frown even more. "No. But, no doubt, he is busy with the children and his own estate." She sat across the desk where I was working. "I'm sure I will receive a letter with all of his news soon enough."

She had been saying those exact words for the last five months. "Lord Burrows has sent a letter to Dunn, demanding to know where Nerissa is and how she is." And, I hoped, his letter included a demand that Nerissa be returned to her family, who would help her heal.

"Has he?" Mother shook her head. "Oh, Alex. Why did you involve him? Dunn is doing what he thinks is best, and it would behoove you to to cease harassing him. There was no need to make Nerissa's disgrace widely known. Think how embarrassed she will be when she returns home."

"I rather think she will appreciate knowing how much her family did to see her back safe where she belongs."

"I suppose I should take it as a comfort that you did not involve William, though it seems he does not have time for anything other that isn't connected to that ward of his."

The petulant tone in Mother's voice warned me that she had reached the point of her coming to my office: she wanted to complain. "I understand you were introduced to Mrs. Burke on Sunday."

She gave a sniff. "I was barely acknowledged. Of course, the woman wouldn't have thought I had any importance as William's aunt, though I am family. I ought to become acquainted with her the same as anyone else."

So she felt she had been slighted. No wonder she was in a foul mood. "Well, I'm sure you will be introduced to Miss Burke when she arrives, and that is who is important, is it not?" I said, in an attempt to sooth her ruffled feathers.

"Well, I am sure she is a spoiled young lady, so I am not at all eager to meet her." Mother leaned forward. "Alex, do you think she is pretty?"

The memory of Ellie smiling at me crossed my mind. Her fair hair and unrestrained smile would make any young lady pale beside her. "Miss Burke?" I asked, trying to shake off the memory. "I suppose all young ladies can each be called handsome in her own way. Why?"

"Why? Alexander, surely you know a young lady with fine looks is more likely to gain a husband quicker than one who does not." Mother glanced at the door before asking in a lowered voice, "Do you think she will be the type of girl William has an interest in?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Is that what you are worried about? William offering to marry his ward? He is an earl, Mother. It is only a matter of time before he marries. If Miss Burke is the one who suits him, why should anyone object?"

"It is no laughing matter! We know nothing about this girl. You have complained about that. Why should she be allowed to become a countess?"

"Mother, it really has nothing to do with us. The next thing you'll be saying is that Lady Jersey shouldn't have married the earl," I said, naming the only countess I could think of right then.

"Don't be ridiculous," Mother said, waving her hand. "Lady Jersey comes from an excellent family and she married well. You should not speak ill of a lady you have not met."

"And I'm sure Miss Burke's family are just as excellent." Nevermind that I had learned very little about her or her parents. I had been so busy, I had not been able to visit Mr. Rushman to question him. "Again. it has nothing to do with us."

"I don't know where I went wrong with you. You have no sense of family duty." Mother crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Can you not see the danger in this situation?"

"The earl is his own man," I said, frustration creeping into my tone despite my best effort to remain calm. "He will not thank either of us were we to interfere. I have offered my opinion, but he did not want to hear it."

"But why have you not determined who her family is?"

"I have done my best, Mother, but you forget I have duties to attend to here on the estate." Sighing, I say back. "Promise me you aren't going to cause any trouble when Miss Burke arrives."

"Trouble? I know how to behave as a lady, though I may not have the status in life I might have expected." Mother raised her chin as she spoke. "If there is trouble, as you put it, it will not be because of me."

A thought hit me then, and I wondered why I had not realized it before. My mother was in the perfect place to ask the questions considered too rude for me. "You know, Mother," I said slowly, choosing my words with care. "Perhaps you might be able to learn more of Miss Burke's family."

Mother's eyes narrowed even more. "What do you mean?" she asked with no little suspicion.

"Well, the earl and I certainly cannot question her or Mrs. Burke about the family history. It would offend her as she might think we are questioning her reputation." Was this a stretch? It seemed like a stretch, but, as they say, in for a penny, in for a pound. "You know a great deal about the Berdwell family tree, do you not? You may be able to work out where she fits in."

"She cannot be related to the Berdwells!"

"Can she not?"

Opening her mouth, Mother paused before speaking again. "Well. Perhaps there might be something to the idea. Your Aunt Mary and I know who is who in society. We might learn a thing or two about Miss Burke's mother."

"There. A project you focus on instead of worrying over what I am doing." And, with any luck, I would be able to piece what she told me with anything I might learn from the vicar.

"What a shame I did not know this earlier. I might have accompanied Olivia and Penelope on their visit."

Surprised, I frowned. "I did not know they intended to make a visit." After all, there were guests in the house. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson had arrived the day before, along with one of my distant cousins Lord Evan.

"Of course you didn't. You don't leave this depressing office."

"Yes, I do, Mother."

She crossed her arms. "Only when it suits you to do so. Your cousins went to Meadowbrooke Cottage to ask when Miss Burke was to arrive. All Mrs. Burke would promise was that her stepdaughter would be at the ball."

But the ball was next week. "So she has been saying since she learned of the ball."

"Olivia says she tried to learn who Miss Burke is staying with, but Mrs. Burke insisted we wouldn't know them," Mother continued. "How dare she assume we know so few people?"

Mrs. Burke did seem intent on keeping the information a mystery, but why? At every turn, the things she said and did created more questions in my mind. "Did they learn anything else?"

"All that was mentioned was that her mother was an innkeeper's daughter. Of course that reminded your aunt Mary that your father had a cousin who married an innkeeper. It was a shocking love match. I wonder her parents allowed it to happen. A young lady of good family should know better!"

But I wasn't listening to that. Hadn't Ellie said her mother came from an innkeeper's family? Was there some connection between her and Miss Burke that she hadn't told me?

~*~

That question remained in my mind as I walked to the vicarage. It was two days after the conversation with my mother. Though I'd been impatient to take my quest to the vicar, it wasn't worth abandoning my responsibilities and an overnight storm had resulted in a pond overflowing.

But now I was determined to get some kind of an answer.

Given the dry, uninteresting sermons I'd heard since arriving, I was expecting to find Mr. Rushman a haughty and superior kind of man. Instead, he warmly welcomed me and urged me to sit and have a drink with him. His manner was one of cheerful guilelessness. We spoke about the weather, as was only polite, but after five minutes, he said, "Now. Was there something I can help you with?"

The blunt question took me by surprise. "You must have come to see me for a reason," he continued with a kind, knowing smile. "People usually do not visit unless there is a reason."

With a rueful chuckle, I nodded. "There is something I thought you might be able to help me with. You've heard that the Earl of Berdwell is the new guardian of a young lady. She is the daughter of a Captain Burke who lived at Meadowbrooke Cottage?"

Mr. Rushman nodded. "Odd business that."

About to ask, I paused. "Odd? In what way?" I asked, trying not to sound too eager or that I was seeking gossip.

"Well, all this time I've believed that the captain's daughter was left at Meadowbrooke without proper supervision or chaperone. Heaven knows my wife has done nothing but complain about that fact for these last five years. A child raised by servants? Disgraceful, though I must admit Mrs. Haynes has done her best. Mrs. Rushman was adamant that the stepmother must be compelled to do her duty."

"But something changed?" I prompted when he paused to sip his drink.

"Well, Mrs. Burke did come, you see. Suddenly, Mrs. Rushman is telling me that the sweet girl at Meadowbrooke Cottage isn't actually Captain Burke's legitimate daughter and that his real daughter would be coming soon. I cannot make sense of it."

Was Ellie the captain's illegitimate daughter? Had she lied to everyone in an effort to have some respect? Somehow, that didn't sound quite right. "I agree that is strange indeed. But it is only Mrs. Burke's word on the matter?"

"I suppose that is the case, and I hate to doubt a lady's word." Mr. Rushman shook his head. "As I said, it is an odd matter. I don't think Miss Elinor purposefully lied as Mrs. Rushman has been saying. From what I understand, the poor girl was just a child when she was left here twelve years ago. She would only repeat what she has been told."

Twelve years ago? Wasn't that when Captain Burke died? A young girl was left at Meadowbrooke and it wasn't his daughter? How could that be? That made no sense! Why? There had to be some connection! Was this why Mrs. Burke was so insistent on no one speaking to Elinor?

"How very strange," I said slowly. "Who was it that brought Miss Ellie here in the first place?"

Mr. Rushman paused. "Why, I believe it was Mrs. Burke. Mind you, I was not here at the time, so I cannot say for certain. I can merely tell you what others have told me, which cannot be reliable. They may have been mistaken."

"Of course." If he was right and Mrs. Burke did bring Elinor here, what did it mean? "Perhaps this is related to why I came here. I cannot find anyone who can tell me about the Burkes. I don't even know who his first wife was or what her name was."

The other man shook his head. "I'm afraid I cannot help you there. I cannot recall anyone having mentioned it in my hearing."

"I thought perhaps we would be able to work backwards to find the information," I said, hoping he would understand. "Would not the parish records have Miss Burke's baptism recorded in it? And from there I could learn the name of her mother? I would like to know what I can of the family."

Mr. Rushman blinked. "What an excellent idea" he exclaimed. "I am astonished I did not think to look. Of course, of course! Come. We will find it now."

He rose and I followed suit. Together, we crossed the hallway to the small study. Bookshelves lined the far wall and were filled with books. Mr. Rushman selected a large tome from one of the shelves. "This should be the right year," he said, glancing at me. "The year would be-what? 1798? A little later?"

Mentally, I did the math. "I believe Captain Burke's daughter was born in 1796. I know that she is eighteen now."

With a nod, Mr. Rushman opened to the middle of the book. He examined the writing, running his finger along the paper, and then began to turn pages. "I don't suppose you know what time of year the lady would have been born?"

Regretfully, I had to shake my head. "I'm afraid not." I tried to rein in my impatience. It would take some time, and there was only so fast one could turn the pages. Still, I couldn't help but wish I could take his place and search for myself.

"Oh, dear." Mr. Rushman's brow furrowed. "Oh, dear. Oh, dear! How did this happen?"

Alarmed, I leaned forward. The man ran one finger along the page he was on. I could see where a page had been removed from the book. The jagged remnant of the aged paper could clearly be seen. Whoever had done the dead had done so quickly, perhaps so that they would not be caught in the act.

And I had a sinking feeling the missing page contained the information I sought.

"Who would have done this?" Mr. Rushman worried over the page. "This is vandalism!"

I thought he would give up, discouraged by the missing page. How could I encourage him to continue on? To my surprise, he shook himself and shifted his gage from the torn paper. With an air of determination, he flipped the page and continued his search.

"You are certain of the year?" he asked, barely glancing at me. "It might have been late in 1795?"

"That's possible? The solicitor in London only said that Miss Burke is eighteen now."

Mr. Rushman nodded but kept up his examination of the cramped writing. I wasn't sure what he was looking for now, but didn't want to bid him farewell. Several passed and I lost count of how many pages he had turned since finding the missing one.

"Ah-ha!" he exclaimed in triumph. He kept his finger firmly in place on the paper. "I believe I have found what you are looking for. The marriage record of Captain Henry Burke. It occurred in 1794."

Amazed and eager, I moved to be closer. There, just as he said, was the name: Captain Henry Burke married to Marie Elinor Brown on September 29th, 1794.

"Marie Elinor," I whispered.

Was it possible...? No. How could it be. Elinor was a maid, not the beloved daughter of a captain. Or was she?