Chapter 45: Children of Fate
Leila sat in the drawing room, a needle and thread in hand, and frozen to the spot. She had to keep busy, if only to keep her mind off the many thoughts racing through it. She had received word that Samuel was on his way back from Charlestown three weeks ago, which meant she only had a handful of days before he arrived.
In the weeks following Edward Worthington's departure, Leila had tried a number of things to take her mind off the traumatic past few weeks that she had endured. From the hallucinations to the "wine" she had been desperate for, she was not sure how much of it to tell Samuel. It would have been easy enough to keep it to herself had Edward not witnessed the entire event almost from start to finish.
She knew that she'd eventually have to be honest, but right now all Leila wanted was either to run away or to have the good doctor prescribe her some of that opium again. Honestly, what could the harm be? Right?
No. No. She had to stay vigilant. If Leila was going to think of way to be honest with her husband, she had to keep a clear head.
The first situation at hand was for her to be up front and honest. The second was to attempt to actually have a child with him, in the hopes of placating his likely relations to her confessions. Of course, if she did the latter first then that would likely soften the blow, but then it would open the possibility of her being accused of manipulating him.
But really, how mad could he get when his child is growing in my belly?
Samuel didn't have much of a temper on a normal day. He was quite even tempered, despite his disposition. Of course, if it came to her confession, that fact would change considerably. She was starting to wonder if there was a right way to inform him.
Or... If she had to do it at all...
Really, what was the harm in keeping it to herself? Sure Edward would know, and maybe he would tell Samuel, but then it would be his word against Leila's, and Samuel had been besotted with her since childhood. In fact, though she knew it made her a horrid sort of person to do so, she could use it to her favor. After all, she convinced him to marry her just by shedding some tears and openly panicking. Dr. Stephenson would be the only one whose word Samuel would likely believe over hers, but he would not be likely to offer that information without reason, and if he was never in a room with him to begin with, there would be no need for conversation.
It was convoluted, dare she say overly complicated and unnecessarily stressful. She could be brave and just be honest, and in the short term tolerate his temper... Or she could simply say nothing, and allow the story to play out as it will. After all, though for some reason she felt she missed him, Leila didn't love Samuel, not really. She didn't need this marriage to be one of love, only protection. If she managed to conceive a child with him then he would not cast her out if he found out the truth. He would lose some of his feelings for her, that was very likely, but she would still have a home, husband, and protection of the Worthington name. That was all she needed.
"Come home, Samuel," she whispered, "it's time to pick up where we left off."
XXX
"So, how do we get in?" Charlotte asked.
Lydia squinted her eyes in the direction of the jails and pursed her lips. "There are two reasons why we would go, but I am not sure if my uncle has taken precautions and informed the deputies that I might try to speak with my sister." She looked to Charlotte. "I don't suppose he knows you're here?"
Charlotte sighed, deflated. "He does, we met at a dinner at Sebastian Doyle's home. He also knows that Ross and I have a history." Then, she frowned. "Why would your uncle not want you to speak with your sister?"
A look of anger flickered over Lydia's eyes for a split second before it was masked again. "We both want the same thing – we want Lucy freed and her name cleared of this false accusation. But I know my uncle. He doesn't want her freed because he loves her, he wants her freed because it will protect the Quincy name. Trust me, if it was easier to protect our family by seeing her hang, he would allow it. I do not know what he is planning anymore. He'd betrothed her to another, and used blackmail to ensure that neither of them went against him, but I am sure he knows that that will not work, especially now that Captain Beauchamp is back."
"But surely Lucy knows all this?"
"I am confident she does, but she needs to know that I am here and I will not let any of my uncle's schemes come to fruition." Lydia smirked. "He knew I would try to run to her and turn her against him far more than she already has, so he locked me in my room."
Charlotte snorted. "Men are so uninspired."
"Either that or pure evil," Lydia said. "The sort of things I would hear my father talk about, the terrible crimes men committed, often against women they claimed to love, it made me sick. If I did not know a few good men myself, I would have been convinced that they were all like that... Still, we have to be vigilant, we can never tell which snake in the basket holds the poison."
Charlotte gulped, Deputy Fischer's tale coming back to mind. It was proof that James Boatwright had always been the snake with the poison. He had always been the man with a sinister agenda, the petulant child who wanted the toys he couldn't have. It proved that what he did to Lucy was not uncommon for him, that if it had not been Lucy, it would have been another woman, or another. Perhaps Ross with the fiancé to end his life now, but who was to say that he wouldn't have died at the hands of another, as a result of his own sickness?
Lucy was not the first victim, and if Ross had not stepped in, he would have not been the last.
Ross and Lucy had to know this – they had to be made aware. Charlotte had a feeling she'd gotten through to Deputy Fischer and hopefully the man would come forward with the truth that the deputies had hidden all these years, the truth that the Magistrate now held over their heads.
"The Magistrate is basing his case against your sister entirely on her paternity and James Boatwright's death," Charlotte whispered. "That is all he has to tear down your family name. A child born of a criminal who murdered another. It is almost the perfect crime, the perfect way to solidify his standing as a Magistrate greater than your father."
Lydia's jaw tightened, but she said nothing.
"His motives are to uplift his family name at the expense of yours, that is all this is about." Charlotte continued. "Moreover, he is doing this by perpetuating the assumption that his own house is clean, that there are no skeletons in his closet, nothing hiding under the floorboards..."
"So if we find out what is happening in his house, we effectively bring his name down the way he is attempting to do my father's." Lydia finished for her, her eyes alight.
"And I just happen to have the very thing we might need." Charlotte tapped the side of her head with a finger. "Now let's find a way into the jails. Ross and Lucy will want to hear this."
XXX
John tried to avoid looking at Abigail Quincy as they all sat to dine later that night. His mind was a whirlwind, the main one being when he would be able to see Lucy, but now memories from his past, the few images he had of his father, also took hold. How much did he look like him that Abigail had though he was his father.
What did she see how that she knew the truth?
"Mr. Boatwright passed not long after James left Lanfore," Mary Boatwright said to his mother, and he turned his attention to their conversation. The sound of James Boatwright's name made his insides churn with rage, but he kept his composure as best he could. If Mary Boatwright did not know what her son had tried to do to Lucy, he doubted telling her at the dining table after she had allowed them into her home, was a good time and place to inform her.
His mother shook her head, her eyes shining with tears. "I am so sorry, I wish I had been able to see him one last time."
Mary smiled and took his mother's hand, squeezing it. "I know you were in his thoughts all the way to the end, Malia. This house was never the same after you left."
"I was never the same either," his mother said. "I missed Dawn-Bridge, Lanfore, my friends..." She looked to John and smiled. "But I had something precious to protect."
Mary looked to John as well studying him closely, as though breaking him down piece by piece in her mind as a means to try to understand him. "We all do what we can for our children, even sacrifice every piece of ourselves." She sighed and let go of Malia's hand. "Even if it means that they are becoming the exact opposite of what you'd imagined."
John frowned and looked at his mother, who met his gaze. She must have seen his intent written all over his face but she lightly shook her head, indicating that it was still not the time. Though irked, John had to accept that. But still, he wanted to help Lucy, and he knew he could not delay for long.
Truly, he didn't have to tell Mrs. Boatwright about what a monster her son was to go see his sister, but he felt leaving here without telling her at some point would be a mistake. Furthermore since Lucy's letter – which continued to burn a hole in his pocket – was sent to him, detailing James's actions, his mother could not bear the burden of telling her either.
In all honesty, Lucy had the most right out of any of them to tell her.
"... House has not changed at all, it is just as I remember." He heard his mother saying. He joined the conversation once again, but his mind was will whirring.
"You look just like him."
John frowned and turned to look at Abigail Quincy, who was studying him with a curiosity that made him want to disappear from the room. "Pardon?"
"John..." She whispered. "You look just like him."
John turned to his mother to see if she had heard, but she was deeply engrossed in her conversation with Mrs. Boatwright. Turning back to Abigail, he cleared his throat and tried to keep his discomfort hidden. After all, this was his father's widow, the woman he had been married to.
"He was a good man," John finally said.
"Indeed." Abigail pursed her lips. "Are you a good man?"
John grimaced, but nodded. "I like to think so, ma'am."
"Do you have a family back in Charlestown?"
"Yes, ma'am. A wife and daughter."
"Are you faithful?"
John sensed where this was going. She was trying to ascertain if the physical resemblance carried into his character, his ability to be a faithful husband. As much as he had loved his father and as much as he loved his mother, John knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would never even imagine putting his beloved Eliza in Abigail's position. At some point, the children had to learn to be what the parents could not.
"I love my wife," he said, his voice firm but kind. "I fought hard to have her. We had many obstacles in our path, and she was worth every single one of them. Eliza is my angel, my heart, my entire world. She gave me the gift of her presence and love, and she gave me our beautiful daughter. I would sooner end my own life before ever being unfaithful to her."
At some point during his declaration, Abigail's eyes had glossed over and a subtle tear now fell down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away and cleared her throat. "Indeed, those are lovely sentiments." She looked up at him. "You are who he could not be, not to me." She cast her eyes past John's shoulder to his mother, who was still speaking with Mrs. Boatwright. "It is... Refreshing to know that lessons are eventually learned. I only hope..." She gulped and shook her head. "No... I know she has. My Lucy is smart, strong... She will not make the same mistakes I did."
John wanted to tell her that it was unfair for Abigail to put such a burden on Lucy's shoulders, especially after keeping her paternity a secret from her all these years, but that was not his place. He loved his sister, but he would not speak for her.
"Stay as you are, John Brandon Quincy." Abigail said, her voice distant now. "Love your wife and child... It is a rare thing."
So rare that it had destroyed many that never had it. So incredibly rare that, even now, the world as they knew it was shifting, turning upside down, hopefully for the better.
Hopefully, before all this was over, things would be better.
XXX
Robert Quincy had terrified his fair share of maids since returning back to the Quincy estate, moreso today than any other day. Upon his arrival, he had found out that Lydia had, in fact, found a way out of her room, and was likely out in the wind, trying to locate her sister. When he had discovered the culprit, a maid named Coral, he had justifiably terminated her employment with no reference, a thing the girl took well and left without a fuss. If he had been in a right state of mind, he would have pressed into that, but right now he had to find Lydia. Something told him that if she managed to locate Lucy, things would go terribly for him.
As if they were going so well before.
His plan to implicate the Magistrate was dead in the water, especially now that Ross had offered himself up as a sacrificial lamb. Moreover, he was not even sure if Lucy's betrothal to Fredrick Doyle was enough to save her, meaning that it would be in his best interest to leave her to head down a dark path alongside her murderous fiancé.
He had always loved his nieces, and Robert wanted to admit at least to himself that even after learning of Lucy's paternity, he still loved her the same, but was that true? If it had been Lydia in her place, would he have given up so easily? He knew the answer was no. He would have forged the long-lost letter of consent, he would have pulled every trick out of the hat that he could, and fought tooth and nail to ensure the longevity of the Quincy line.
Lucy was not a Quincy. Her existence was more of a hinderance than anything else, especially now. It implicated his brother, not him. After all, he married an adulteress witch, he accepted the bastard child of that union as his own. John Quincy, Magistrate and Patriarch, made those mistakes, not his younger brother, Robert.
No, he did not need to save Lucy to save the Quincy family. He simply just had to... Let her go. This was easier done if Lydia had remained where she was.
Gods, both these girls were making it difficult for him to protect them. Dropping Lucy was easy, but Lydia was the child of John and Abigail. He would have to fight tooth and nail to wrangle her in and teach her to know her place.
Suppose now it's time to visit the jails...
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Author's note: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a vote and comment, let me know how you liked it, hope you enjoy the rest!
<3, Mila