One Night in London (25 page)

“No.” Francesca steadied her voice. It was killing her to hear another woman called “Mama” by her niece. “I’ve come to bring you home with me.”

She had expected Georgina to be surprised, even nervous about leaving. She had prepared herself for childish worries or fear. It had been a while since Georgina had seen her, and longer still since she had been to her home. Of course it would seem frightening to a child. She was not prepared for Georgina to frown in bemusement and ask, “Why?”

“Well, darling, your parents wanted me to. Before your mama died, she and I used to talk about you—she loved you so very much. She wanted to take you to Italy, where she grew up, and to see the great opera houses of Europe, where your grandmama used to sing. When she died, it nearly broke my heart, but I remembered all she wanted for you, and knew she would want me to take you all those places, since she never could. And your papa agreed; he always said I should take you when you were a little older. He used to say he could tell you were an Italian at heart, even when you were a very small girl.” Georgina’s small, shy smile encouraged her. “Do you remember my house? And Mrs. Hotchkiss, who used to make Savoy biscuits for you? We’ve prepared a room for you of your very own, right upstairs from my own. Mrs. Hotchkiss is horribly afraid I’ll buy you a parrot, but otherwise she cannot wait to see you again.”

“A parrot?” Georgina wrinkled her nose. “Parrots are loud.”

Francesca laughed. “So said Mrs. Hotchkiss!” She tilted her head to better see her niece’s face. “We shall have a capital time together, even without a parrot.”

“Oh, but . . .” Georgina frowned again. “ I don’t want to leave Mama and my brothers.”

“But darling, she isn’t truly your mama,” said Francesca gently.

Georgina’s mouth puckered. “I don’t want to go, Aunt Franny.”

“You’ll be so much happier,” Francesca went on quickly, thrown off stride by this unexpected refusal. “You won’t have to sweep the steps or work in the garden. You’ll have nice dresses, and music and drawing lessons, and whatever else you wish to learn. We’ll learn Italian together, for when we go to Italy.”

“No,” said her niece, mutiny in her eyes.

“Now, Georgina.” Francesca decided to be firm. “The last time I saw you, you begged me to take you home with me.”

“I did not!” the girl declared, seeming genuinely shocked by the idea. “I don’t want to leave Mama and Billy and Jack!”

“Your father wanted me to raise you, dear. You must accept his decision.” Francesca hadn’t expected this to be so difficult. Georgina wasn’t responding to her very reasonable and enticing plans as she should, but then, she was a child, and had been somewhat willful her whole life. Perhaps it had been a mistake to ask her opinion at all. It really wasn’t up to her where she lived. “I’ve already spoken to Mrs. Haywood about this. She knows your papa wanted you to come with me.”

Georgina’s face grew red. She jumped to her feet. “You did not!” she cried. “Mama would never say I should go with you! She loves me!”

“Of course she does. So do I.” Francesca’s temper was stirring in reply, no matter how hard she tried not to let it. “Be reasonable, Georgina.”

“If you loved me you would let me stay!”

The floor seemed to list beneath her feet. “You shall still see everyone here,” she said, trying to calm the girl. “Not every day, but we’ll visit.”

Tears gathered in Georgina’s eyes—of fury, not grief. “Mama won’t let you take me away. She needs me. You only want me to come with you because you can’t have any children of your own; Uncle Percy said so!”

Francesca gasped as the cruel words hit her. “That is
not
true,” she snapped. Curse Percival Watts and his spiteful tongue. This would be going much better if Percival hadn’t poisoned Georgina against her. She made a great effort to moderate her fury and return to the initial joy of their reunion. “Georgina—why must we argue? I thought you would be pleased. We used to get on so well!”

Anger still darkened Georgina’s face, but her chin trembled. “You didn’t want to take me away then.”

“I did, darling,” she said, only to wish the words unsaid as real fear blanched Georgina’s face.

“No,” shrilled her niece. “No! Mama!” She turned and bolted for the door.

“Georgina, please,” Francesca cried, but it was too late. Georgina flung open the door and threw herself into the waiting arms of Ellen Haywood.

Chapter 23

E
dward watched Percival Watts huddle over his weeping sister. The deep sobs wracking Ellen Haywood’s shoulders weren’t quite what he would have expected of someone merely losing an income. Not for the first time, he wondered what Francesca would do if her plans went awry. Unless he was very much mistaken, Mrs. Haywood was deeply attached to the little girl—perhaps as much as Francesca was.

He had begun to suspect it when he cornered Percival Watts in the back of the hall with the children. Watts had obviously just come from the market, with a large basket filled with packages on one arm and a towheaded toddler in the other. Another little boy, a replica of the first, had been holding hands with a slim, dark-haired girl Edward guessed, rightly, to be Georgina. The children all looked well, and had been chattering gaily until Mrs. Haywood’s scream. Watts had already turned to flee when Edward caught him. The man glanced through the open door, saw the footman run up, and slumped in concession. Edward explained things swiftly and firmly, and Watts just nodded, looking sullen and resentful. By the time he sent the little boys into another room and went to the parlor door, Georgina had already run in to Francesca, and Edward could hear the happy sounds of reunion.

But then Mrs. Haywood came out. Edward saw her face crumble with grief, and his small suspicion burgeoned into a great apprehension. He tried to give Francesca a glance of warning, but she was glowing with happiness and triumph, holding Georgina’s hand. He closed the door and tried to stifle that feeling of impending disaster.

“I suppose you’ve come to help her steal Georgie away.” Percival Watts suddenly turned on him with a venomous look.

“Sh-She offered m-me two th-thousand pounds, Percy,” sobbed his sister. Her face was blotchy and red.

Watts snorted. “Oh, brilliant. She wants to
buy
a child?”

“She wishes to make things fair,” said Edward.

“Fair? How is it fair that she should sweep in like some lady of the manor and throw her money to us poor, ordinary folk, and we should be grateful for her condescension?”

Edward arched one brow. “How fair is it to keep a child from her only family, in defiance of her father’s wishes?”

“We’re Georgie’s family,” Watts shot back. “Who the hell are you, anyway?”

“Edward de Lacey, at your service.” Edward fixed his coolest stare on the man.

“Percy.” Mrs. Haywood’s sobs had subsided. “Stop. Percy . . . she means to take Georgie, and I don’t know how we can stop her. She said she would go to court if I didn’t accept her offer. What should we do?”

Watts glared at Edward. “We can’t afford to fight her there,” he muttered.

His sister clutched at his sleeve. “Perhaps if I talk to her . . . apologize . . . perhaps she’ll relent . . .”

He scowled. “She’s too selfish for that.”

“I see why it was impossible for you and Lady Gordon to deal cordially,” said Edward dryly. “Misperceptions abound.”

“You didn’t see the way she behaved,” snarled Watts.

“Your actions have not commended you, either.”

“Then what do you suggest, sir?” Mrs. Haywood swiped the corner of her apron across her eyes.

“He’ll take her side,” muttered Watts.

“Hush, Percy,” she snapped at him. “I’ll take help from any quarter, if it will help me keep Georgie.”

Edward studied her a moment. Grief had settled on her face, but there was still hope in her eyes. “She loves Georgina,” he said gently. “Very much. Whatever else has passed between you and her, she wants only her niece’s happiness.”

Mrs. Haywood’s chin quivered, but she nodded.

“If you want the same—whatever is best for Georgina—you might acknowledge that to her. Then you’ll have the same goal in mind, and needn’t work at cross purposes any longer.”

Mrs. Haywood’s eyes closed and she swayed on her feet. Her brother muttered something as he reached for her, but Edward didn’t hear what. His ear had caught the sound of raised voices from the parlor. Watts’s head came up as he, too, heard it. He shook his sister, whose eyes grew large as she listened. In the sudden quiet of the hall, Georgina’s high voice was audible, though indistinct, through the parlor door. She sounded agitated, even angry. Edward thought he heard the name Percy, and then the lower murmur of Francesca’s voice.

“They’re arguing,” whispered Mrs. Haywood unnecessarily.

“No!” rang Georgina’s voice, followed by rapid footsteps. “No! Mama!”

Ellen Haywood was on her knees, arms open, by the time Georgina burst through the door. She hugged the girl to her, tears leaking down her cheeks again, as Francesca appeared in the doorway, her face ashen. Edward’s heart fell.

“Mama, I don’t want to leave you!” sobbed Georgina into Ellen’s shoulder. “Don’t make me go!”

Mrs. Haywood rocked her back and forth, crooning softly. “You don’t have to go with her, Georgie,” said Watts, glaring smugly at Francesca.

Edward didn’t wait for her response. He seized Mr. Watts by the arm and bundled him back down the hall. “Let me go!” demanded the man. “I’ll call the constables if you toss me from my own house!”

“By all means, do so.” Edward shoved him through the door with a significant glance at his footman, lurking nearby, before closing and barring the door. Watts hammered on it for a moment, then fell silent.

Back in the hall, Georgina’s sobs had quieted. “Mama, I don’t want to live with Aunt Franny,” she was pleading.

“I won’t make you go,” promised Mrs. Haywood as she dabbed a kerchief to the tears on Georgina’s cheeks.

“Her father wished me to raise her.” Francesca’s voice was even, although Edward heard the thread of anguish in it. “I’m only doing as her parents wanted.”

“Papa didn’t say that, did he?” Georgina appealed to Mrs. Haywood.

The woman bit her lip. “Well—yes, Georgie, he did, but that was years ago.”

“It was little more than one year ago,” Francesca said quietly. “Ever since Giuliana died, John asked me to see that Georgina was raised as her mother would have done.”

Mrs. Haywood’s color faded. “He didn’t know how I would come to care for her.”

“Papa . . . Papa wanted me to live with Aunt Franny?” asked Georgina in a small, uncertain voice. Her tears had stopped.

“He wanted you to have a wonderful life, darling, filled with people who love you.” Francesca made a helpless motion with one hand. “He wanted you to be happy.”

“Yes, Georgie, he did.” Mrs. Haywood’s voice broke. “And if you should decide you would be happy living with your aunt . . .” She paused. “Do you wish to?”

Georgina cast a fearful glance at Francesca, who smiled tremulously. She had regained her poise, but Edward saw the tightness of her mouth and the rigidity of her shoulders. He felt a surge of bittersweet pride at her equanimity in the face of such crushing disappointment. “N-N-No,” said Georgina, drawing the word out hesitantly. “But I have missed her. I would like to visit her, if I may.”

For a moment all was silence. Francesca’s knuckles were white where she gripped the doorknob. “I would very much like you to visit me, Georgina,” she finally replied, her voice a thin thread of sound. “Any time you wish.”

Mrs. Haywood seemed to understand this was an olive branch. “Yes, Georgie, you may visit her.”

“Did you not tell her where we lived now, Mama?” The tears were dry now, and Edward saw a trace of Francesca’s spirit in the little girl as she backed out of Mrs. Haywood’s arms. “She said you didn’t.”

Mrs. Haywood paled. “I was wrong not to,” she whispered.

Georgina looked between the two women. “And did my papa truly wish Aunt Franny to take me to Italy when I am older?”

Mrs. Haywood looked wretched. “Yes, he did.”

The girl nodded slowly. “I think I would like that. I will live here, with Mama and the babies, and visit Aunt Franny in London. And perhaps, when I am older, I might wish to visit Italy, too.”

Mrs. Haywood glanced anxiously up at Francesca. “Is that acceptable, Lady Gordon?”

Pale and tense, her mouth strained, Francesca looked at Georgina with heartbreak in her eyes. She gave a brief nod.

Mrs. Haywood gave a great gasp of relief, pressing one hand to her throat. “Thank you. Thank you!”

Georgina smiled uncertainly at Francesca. “I’m sorry I shouted at you, Aunt Franny.”

Francesca fluttered her fingers. “It’s forgiven, darling.” She held out her hand, and Georgina ran back to her, throwing her arms around Francesca’s waist. Francesca embraced her in return, bending her head low to rest her cheek on the girl’s head for a moment.

“Good! I did miss you so. Oh—Aunt Franny, you must meet Rotter!” she declared as happily as if the previous confrontation had never happened. A dog was barking furiously at the back door. “Did you see him when you arrived? Mama said Rotter is a terrible name for a dog, but Uncle Percy calls him that anyway. Rotter is a nice dog, except when he’s bad. He likes to sleep under my bed at nights. Would you like to see him?”

At Francesca’s nod, Georgina ran to the door and unbarred it, admitting Percival Watts along with the furiously barking black terrier, who proceeded to race through the narrow hall and then back out the door with Georgina in pursuit. Edward made his way to Francesca’s side and put his arm around her. She was shaking, even though she held herself rigidly erect. He squeezed her hand, wishing intensely that he could make this easier for her somehow.

“Shall we go?” he murmured to her. She nodded slightly.

“So you’ll just be taking Georgie for visits?” demanded Watts, who had been in feverish whispered conversation with his sister. “That’s all?”

Francesca raised her chin and looked at him, her expression growing grim. “Yes, Mr. Watts. For now.”

He smirked. Edward could see why Francesca disliked the man.

“Mr. Watts,” Francesca went on coldly, “I do not like you much. I know you return my dislike in full. For Georgina’s sake, I am willing to pretend politeness, but only if you do the same. Perhaps it would be best if we didn’t see each other much.”

“That’s a splendid idea,” said Mrs. Haywood quickly. “Percy, would you go to the boys for a minute?” He glowered and grumbled, but stalked back down the hall. Mrs. Haywood looked fearfully at Francesca. “You’ll really leave her here, then? With me?”

“She wants to stay,” Francesca replied. Her eyes were clear, her voice level. Only Edward felt the tremor in her body. “I never meant to drag her away if she was happy.”

“Thank you, Lady Gordon,” said Mrs. Haywood, tears filling her eyes again. “I—I love her. She’s not my daughter, but I . . . Thank you. It will be different between us from now on.”

Francesca inclined her head. “I hope so, very much.”

They stepped outside just as Georgina returned, lugging the wriggling terrier in her arms. Francesca smiled and let the little dog lick her hand furiously. Her niece clapped her hands in delight, promising that when Francesca came next, Rotter would do his tricks.

“I am sure he’s wonderful at tricks.” Francesca’s smile was growing strained. “But we must go now. Edward?”

“Of course.” He motioned to the driver. His footmen had already returned to their posts and one held the carriage door.

“Good-bye! I cannot wait for you to come again.” The girl threw her arms around Francesca once more. “Good-bye, sir,” she said more bashfully to Edward.

“Good-bye to you, Miss Haywood. It has been a great pleasure to meet you,” he said gravely, making her a formal bow. Georgina gave him a huge, surprised smile, and he winked at her before turning back to Francesca. “Are you well, dearest?” he asked quietly.

She nodded. “Until later,” she said to Georgina with a forced smile. She kept it on her face as they climbed back into the carriage. She wore it as she leaned forward to wave to her niece until they rounded the bend in the road and the small cottage was lost to sight. Slowly it faded from her lips and she covered her face with her hands. Edward pulled her into his arms, and finally her heartbreak spilled out.