The Legacy

“Lady Porter, I’ve brought some fresh linens. Master Edward asked that I bring them right up.”

“Leave them on the chair,” she said, her voice filled with all the exhaustion she felt.

“And I’ve also returned the riding habit you gave to Mary Grace. I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to learn to ride. It’s so…dangerous.”

Geneva stared at her for a long moment, trying to make sense of her words. “Riding habit? What riding habit?”

Rose cocked her head, confusion marring her somber expression. “I’ll—I’ll just put the linens here.” She set the bedsheets on the chair, then turned back to the bed.

“How are you feeling? Mary Grace has been very worried.” She paused. “Sometimes grief is a terrible thing to bear. Especially the grief of a mother.”

Geneva closed her eyes. She felt so numb, as if every ounce of emotion inside her had evaporated. This was the way it went, the lows and then the highs, the plummeting descent and the slow, gradual rise back to happiness. “A mother should never have to watch her child die.”

“Do you not believe she’s in a better place?” Rose asked.

“How can I think any place is better than her home, with her mother and her father?” Geneva sighed. “Is your faith that strong?”

Rose shook her head. “Not all the time. In the middle of my own grief, when I needed it most, it seemed to vanish. But then, I realized that I was not grieving for my husband or for the life he might have had. I was grieving for myself, for everything I’d lost.”

“And I suppose you’ll tell me that it was God’s will that my Charlotte died? That he was the one who struck her down with scarlet fever? I cannot believe in a god who would take such a precious child from this world. From me.”

“I lost two babies before I gave birth to Mary Grace,” Rose said. “The first was stillborn, a son, a beautiful child with the face of an angel. I would like to think they’re all in heaven with Jamie, though my priest tells me they are not.”

“You don’t believe dead babies go to heaven?”

“They weren’t baptized. Babies who aren’t baptized remain in limbo, in neither heaven nor hell. Since they cannot be baptized, they cannot be cleansed of their original sin.”

“So their souls just float there forever.”

Rose nodded. “It is a difficult thought to bear and one I struggle with. But I try to think of limbo as a place that’s pure and simple and innocent, where the babies know nothing of God or heaven, so they can’t know what they’re missing.”

“Believe what you need to believe,” Geneva said, flopping back into the pillows and throwing her arm over her eyes.

“At least you know she’s in heaven,” Rose said. “There must be some comfort in that.”

“I’m tired,” Geneva muttered. “Leave me now.”

Rose walked to the door, but she didn’t leave. “You can’t have her,” she murmured. “She’s all I have. I’ve lost everything.”

Geneva pushed up on her elbows. “What are you babbling about?”

“Mary Grace. She’s my daughter, not yours. Nothing you do for her, nothing you give her, will ever change that.”

“Get out!” Geneva screamed. “Get out! You have no right to speak to me that way.” She sat up and a blinding pain shot through her head, turning everything around her black. Geneva swallowed back a wave of nausea. “Pack your bags,” she muttered. “I’ll give you a month’s severance. But I want you out by the end of the day.”

Rose stared at her for a long moment and Geneva waited for her to plead for her job, knowing the satisfaction she’d take in putting Rose Byrne in her place. Since the day she’d brought Rose and Grace to Porter Hall, the woman had always been just a bit too proud and haughty for a servant.

But to Geneva’s surprise, Rose didn’t rise to the bait. She simply tipped her chin up and nodded. “I think that would be for the best, Lady Porter.”

She turned and walked out. A few moments later, Edward came in, carrying a tea tray. He glanced back over his shoulder, then studied Geneva for a long moment. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Geneva said, straightening the bedclothes over her lap. “I—I just sacked Rose.”

Edward gasped. “What?”

“You heard me. She was getting entirely too comfortable here. She had the audacity to imply that I wasn’t grieving Charlotte’s death in a proper way. That I ought to be happy that she’s in heaven and not here with me.”

“What have you done?” Edward accused. “You can’t send them away.”

“I have every right to do just that. I’m in charge of the household staff. I hired her and I can sack her.”

“You’re just tired,” he said. “I know Rose speaks her mind, but she’s a proud woman. And there are times when you do treat Grace more like she’s yours than Rose’s. Mother, please. Let me go to her, let me try to convince her to stay.”

“I will not be spoken to in that way,” Geneva said, her anger growing.

“Then you will put Grace out on the street,” Edward said. “And they will wander about until they both get sick and die. You’ll allow Rose’s daughter to die, simply to make you feel better about Charlotte. Where is your Christian charity, Mother? Does it disappear simply because you have a headache or you’ve taken too much of your tonic?”

Geneva opened her mouth to speak, but then snapped it shut. Emotion welled up inside of her as the reality of what she’d done sunk in. She’d managed to keep herself on an even keel since Grace had arrived. The dark moods were far less frequent and she felt as though she was beginning to climb out of the depths of her grief.

Was that because time had passed or was it because she’d had Grace to raise? For that’s what she was doing, behind Rose’s back. She’d given Grace everything that had been meant for Charlotte, all the womanly wisdom that she possessed. And had Rose Byrne been any other mother, she might have had a right to be jealous.

But Geneva had saved their lives. She’d picked them up off the street and given them a place to live, fed them and clothed them and even educated Grace at no small cost. Rose at least owed her a little understanding and gratitude. Unbidden tears began to roll down her cheeks and Geneva found it difficult to breathe.

“Bring her here,” she said in a strangled voice. “Tell her I must speak with her again.”

She closed her eyes and laid back, drawing in slow, deep breaths to try to quell the pain that was now pounding in her brain. There had been a time, in the not too distant past, when her life had been so right, when she’d had everything she’d ever wanted. Now, it was filled with confusion and regret, fear and loss. Would she ever feel happy again?

CHAPTER FIVE

EDWARD DRAGGED THE TRUNK INTO his bed chamber and left it at the foot of his bed. His mother stared at it critically, her hands hitched on her waist. “We really ought to buy a new trunk for you. It wouldn’t do to have you arrive at Harrow with that tatty old thing.”

He shook his head. “Mother, it doesn’t need to be all shiny and new. This trunk has seen a lot of the world. I’d prefer it. It will make me appear well-traveled.”

“But Malcolm had a new trunk when he went to off to school. You should, too.”

“Malcolm has always been more concerned with appearances,” Edward murmured. When his brother had left for university last fall, he’d required an entirely new wardrobe, including six suits, eight pairs of shoes, three hats and a cashmere overcoat. And not one trunk, but two. Edward assumed the fine clothes were to make up for his brother’s lack of academic acuity.

He ran his hand over the scarred surface of the trunk, examining the stickers that told the trunk’s history. “When did you go to Istanbul?” he asked.

“Your father went there when he was just out of university. He did the grand tour. My parents only allowed me Italy and France. And here is our honeymoon,” she said, pointing to another sticker for New York. “We went to America on the maiden voyage of the Olympic, Titanic’s sister ship. Your aunt Fanny and uncle Richard lived there before they moved to California. I was seasick the entire way, but it was a wonderful trip. Your father nearly decided to stay and find his fortunes there. Just think, you could have been born an American.”

Geneva crossed the room to the wardrobe and flung open the doors. She studied the contents, kept tidy by the upstairs maid, then shook her head. “This will never do. You’ll need new clothes.” She turned and faced him. “We’ll just have to leave a bit early and do some shopping in London before we deliver you to school.”

“We could always just go to Dublin and find what I need at Clery’s.”

“At a department store? No matter how much your father complains, our family fortunes have not sunk so low that we are forced to shop at a Dublin department store for your wardrobe. Your father will take you to his tailors on Savile Row, and have suits made for you. We can have them delivered to you at school when they’re finished.”

Edward forced a smile. “I don’t think Father will have time for a trip to London.”