Chapter 28: Hide Your Fires
***TRIGGER WARNING: There is a brief mention of a possible hanging in the second part of this chapter. This is a warning to those who are sensitive to this manner of content.***
Samuel wandered aimlessly about John and Eliza's home, trying to analyze and oversee everything he saw. He wanted to find that one thing that would discredit John as a husband but, so far, he had found nothing. The man was no Baron or Marquis, but he had provided his sister with a comfortable life. The house was strategically placed close to the market center, with a generous view of the harbor. He could see why Eliza was happy and satisfied with this life, but it was not the life for a Worthington.
"Are you looking for something?"
Samuel stiffened and turned to see an older Indian woman standing there, watching him calmly. He could tell immediately that she had been attractive in youth, and age had done nothing to temper that. But there was an air about her that was heavy with sorrow, a feeling he knew well.
"No," he replied. "I was just..." What was he doing?
"Looking around, then?" She finished for him, then smiled. "Not much to see, we keep a humble home. I am sure you are used to large, overwhelming homes."
"I..." He sighed and bowed his head. "Indeed, I am. Not to take away fom your home, ma'am."
"Please," she smiled wider, "call me Malia. We should be on good terms, Samuel. I am your mother in law after all."
He frowned. "Y-you are John's mother?"
"In the flesh."
"Oh... I..." He cleared his throat. "I am so sorry, I just didn't know..."
"He looks more like his father," she offered. "But he got my temper, which is minimal. I am grateful for that, his father was a good and loving man but I could not raise a son with his temper," she turned and gestured for him to follow. "Come, I'll make us something to eat. Eliza should be awake from her rest soon."
Dazed, Samuel followed her. He wasn't sure what to think or how to feel, but his feet moved instinctively behind her, as though he knew that this was supposed to happen and to avoid being alone with this woman would be a mistake.
"You must have a lot of questions," she said when they entered the kitchen. She kindly dismissed the maid and gestured to the table. "Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable."
Samuel did, but mainly because he was not sure if his legs would be able to hold anymore.
"You can ask me anything you want," she continued when he didn't speak. "I am sure John is fine with me talking to you about our storied past."
"I know bits and pieces," Samuel said. "Namely that his father, your husband, passed away."
Malia nodded, stirring the pot of soup that the maid had just been working on. "That he did, when John was just a boy. But we were not married."
Samuel started. "What?"
"My son was born out of wedlock," Malia said without a hint of shame in her voice.
"But..." Samuel licked his lips. "John said Lucy was his cousin..."
"Pardon?"
Realizing he had been speaking to himself, Samuel spoke up. "I was speaking of Lucy Quincy, a young lady who lived with Eliza and I in Belmoran last here. John said that she was his cousin."
"Did he?"
"Yes, he did. They both said they were distant cousins. How can that be possible if he is your son?"
Malia sighed and turned, a sad smile on her aged face. "Well, I am sure this part of the story was one that John envisioned telling you himself..."
"Please," Samuel sat forward. "I love my sister, and I want her to be happy... But I need to know the truth. Who is your son?"
Malia ran a hand over her face and glanced to the side for a moment, as though contemplating whether or not to provide him with the truth. Samuel waited with feigned patience well, but inside he felt the anxiety that was ready to burst free.
Thankfully, Malia did not keep him waiting long. "My son is a good man," she finally said. "I do not say that because he is mine, I say that because it is true. His trials and tribulations in life are a direct result of my original sin, and I regret that every day. But he worked so, so hard to get us to where we are. We moved to Charlestown not long after the great fire, and we managed to build a life as the city itself was reviving itself from the tragedy. John was young, but I worked to keep us on our feet. We stayed in the houses of the people I worked for before he grew up and earned a decent living. Now," she gestured around her, "we have this beautiful home. So you ask who my son is? He is a good. Man. And I do not deserve him. But your sister? I love her dearly, Samuel. She is a kind, decent, beautiful and strong woman. If I were to give my son away to anyone, she would be it."
After that speech, Malia turned back around to work on the soup, but Samuel had more questions.
"But what is his connection to Lucy Quincy?"
Malia stiffened and turned with a bowl in her hands. She stepped forward and placed it on the table for him before stepping back. "There are so many layers to that story, Samuel. If I were to peel them all off one by one, we would never leave this room and likely you would take your sister back to your home in the dead of night. Furthermore, though I am directly involved in that tale, the time has come and gone for me to tell it. But you do have the right to know, so I urge you to ask the right person."
"Which is?"
"My son," she replied simply. "I spoke with him at length about this, but he was already convinced that you should know. I am sure if you ask, he will tell you. Now," she sat down across from him and studied him solemnly, "with all that aside, tell me of yourself, Samuel."
Samuel shrugged and stirred his soup. "There is nothing of great importance to tell. I'm just Eliza's brother."
"And the patriarch of the great Worthington family," Malia added in. "A thing you've said is quite important."
"I suppose it is..."
"But who are you, Samuel?" Malia asked. "If anyone knows that there is a man under all those layers of importance, it is I. Tell me about yourself."
"What would you like to know, ma'am?"
"Anything you want me to know, dear. Anything that comes to mind. And please, call me Malia." She smiled.
There was something very reassuring about her smile. It made Samuel feel like everything was going to be okay. He knew his relationship with his sister was on the rocks, but in his heart that was not the root of what was troubling him and he knew it. Malia's smile made him realize that.
"It's probably nothing," he finally said, sipping on his soup absently. "I've been married to my wife for a year, and I love her so, so much. I have loved her since we were children, and she knows it, but that was not why she married me."
Malia raised a questioning eyebrow. "What is your wife's name?"
"Leila. Rutherford, before she married me."
"And why did she marry you?"
Samuel tapped his spoon irritably on the edge of his bowl at the memory of that day. "Her brother ran away with a bar maid and she feared for her and her sister's futures. Perhaps she knew that I still loved her, at that time I was publically courting her with her consent. She came to Roseway and begged me to marry her, to help her and her family, and I did. But in doing so, I lost my sister. She left Belmoran with your son and I have not seen her until I came here."
"So you have the woman you love at the cost of your sister," Malia said. "Do you regret your decision on that day?"
Samuel nodded without hesitation. "I would have married Leila eventually, but I was far too excited and spellbound that day to think. I should have stopped courting her the moment I saw that Eliza had her reservations, but after so many years of pining after Leila and finally having a chance with her..."
"You saw an opportunity and you took it," Malia finished for him. "I suppose we all do that in one way or the other. I certainly did when I decided to bring John here and leave..." She stopped, frowned, and then smiled again. "Apologies. Please, continue."
Samuel had wanted her to continue, but he saw that the only way he would get those answers was if he swallowed his pride and asked John himself, which he would. He would do anything to get Eliza back.
"I just did not think that I would be put in a position where I would be forced to choose," he finally said. "How can I? I love my wife, and we have been trying to have a child, which would be my utter joy... But I also love my sister. She and I have always been close, even as children. Having her hate me is a horrid price to pay just so I can be with the woman I love."
"She does not hate you," Malia assured him. "Eliza is a woman of many emotions, and she expresses them openly, as I am sure you know. If she hated you, it would have come out the moment she saw you on the doorstep. She would not have let you in."
"A sense of prorpriety high society taught her must have taken over, tehn."
"Trust me, Samuel, Eliza does not and could never hate you. Does she resent you? Most likely. From what she told me, you refused to let her be with my son just as you were courting your wife who, as she describes, was of 'such a low status, even a dog wouldn't have courted her'."
Samuel ran a hand over his face. "Men of my stature cannot afford to give into emotions from the heart, that's how devastating mistakes are made."
Malia laughed. "Those are words I thought I would never hear again. Listen, dear," she reached forward and placed a hand over his. "You are Eliza's brother. That is never going to change. And when her child is born, he or she is gong to know Uncle Samuel. She would never in a million years shut you out. Trust me on that."
"And your son has not poisoned her mind?"
Malia's face flashed with a hint of anger at those words, but her warm smile remained. "My son is the pinnacle of excellent character. He has seen the mistakes that his parents have made and he has shaped his life accordingly. Anyone you speak to here will tell you that John Brandon Quincy is the most honorable and hard working man they ever met, and they would be right. If anyone were to poison Eliza's mind against you, it would not be him. After all, it was his idea for you to stay here, was it not?"
She was right. "It was."
"Then there you go," Malia would have said more, but suddenly the door to the kitchen opened and, when Samuel turned, he saw his sister walk in, her face paler than a sheet and eyes wide.
"Eliza, darling, is everything alright?" Malia stood immediately.
"I..." She looked between the both of them. "I think my water just broke..." She placed a hand over her belly. "I think the baby's coming."
XXX
Lanfore, Hertfordshire
"Well of course I would be on some madman's hit list, it was only a matter of time!" Robert chortled, pouring some brandy. "I was actually just wondering what was taking him so long."
"Can we not joke about this?" Phillip asked, rubbing his temples. "That list contains the names of everyone in your family, James's family, and even the Dennings. I am sure that if it gets out, anyone connected to them will also be at risk, which includes me, my brother, Ross, and Sebastian."
"This list is not getting out," Robert assured him. "If the Magistrate were to speak to its existence, he would need proof, right? Well I have that now," he waved it around, "and now I am going to get rid of it."
Sebastian stood quickly. "No you are not, my wife risked herself to get that list!"
"For which she should know that I am eternally grateful, but now it has fallen into my hands to figure out what to do with it. If this list puts me—and my family, of course—at risk, then it cannot possibly continue to exist."
Ross chimed in. "If your objective is to frame the Magistrate for the murder of James Boatwright, then wouldn't burning this list be counterintuitive? James's name is only he list after all, that's more than enough proof provided we can find something to back it up."
Robert looked at him and frowned thoughtfully. "I knew I kept you around for a reason, captain."
"Really? I thought you kept him around so he wouldn't confess to the crime that he actually legitimately committed," Sebastian grunted. "No offense, of course."
"None, taken," Ross assured him. "Trust me, before I came here I had every intention to confess to my crime, if only to have the people of Lanfore know the monster that James Boatwright was right before he died."
"And now you know how that would go against our plans, yes?" Robert asked.
"Your plan, you mean?" Phillip snorted.
Ross sat up, glaring at Robert. "Don't you think it's slightly sick that you are so willing to sweep James's crime under the rug so that your hands are clean and the man you dislike is behind bars rather than the one who deserves to be? May I remind you that James tried to rape your niece and my fiancée?"
"First of all, Captain Beauchamp, James is dead, so he would not be behind bars, but I appreciate the metaphor, it is quite poetic," Robert said coolly. "Second of all, Lucy is not your fiancée anymore, she is currently betrothed to Phillip's brother for her own security. Lastly, we were all agreed that this was the plan, so appealing to my morality, sir, is also counterintuitive. You should be grateful that I am going through such lengths to keep you from the gallows."
"Can we stay on topic here?" Sebastian cut in, snatching the list from Robert's hand. "The Magistrate is going to know this is missing. Likely he does already. First he is going to come after my wife, and then once he realizes that I am in cahoots with you, Robert, he is coming after you. I promise, he is itching for a reason to come after you, seeing as you are the last Quincy left in Lanfore. We need to tread carefully with this."
"So what do you suggest we do?" Robert asked.
"In all this time, did you ever consider reading the list? Between the fine lines?"
"I know what names are on there," Robert snorted.
"But you don't!" Sebastian snapped. "Firstly, one of these people does not even have a name, and that's the Boatwright maid. Secondly, why is Bertha Denning on this list if she is in cahoots with the Magistrate. Why is her brother on here if he is dead? George Boatwright? Magistrate John Quincy?"
"So the Magistrate can hold a grudge, that does not take a genius to conclude," Robert snorted.
"I think what Sebastian is trying to say is that this goes beyond the Magistrate's agenda with the Quincys," Ross said, standing. "He wants to eradicate every family that has come in his way since assuming his title. Quincy, Boatwright, and Denning are probably the top three on his mind, hence them all being on the list."
"He wants to start Lanfore over again," Phillip realized. "Be rid of all the troublesome families, as well as those more powerful than his, and start anew, with his family at the forefront. It's smart."
"Had he been successful in forcing James to marry Elizabeth, he wouldn't have had to start Lanfore over again," Sebastian mused. "Marrying into the Boatwright family would have done that for him."
Robert frowned at him. "I was not aware of the Magistrate forcing James to marry his daughter."
"Well, he did," Sebastian said. "And to get him out of it, I married her instead. It connected me to a good family, and I fulfilled my mother's wishing of having a wife before I was senile," he laughed, but then grew serious again. "Naturally, the Magistrate was not too thrilled about that."
"Yet another thing incriminating him, then," Ross murmured. "The embarrassment of having James Boatwright slip through his fingers must have sent him over the edge."
"And it is another feather in our cap," Robert said. "I will write to my barrister in London and see what sort of case we can build against the Magistrate with the information that we have. The sooner we move, the better," he looked at Phillip, "write your brother and tell him to make sure that Lucy does not leave Derbyshire by any means. Tell him to lock her in the house if he must, and to start the wedding plans as soon as possible," he held up a hand to shut up any protest Ross had. "I said to start the preparations, not actually wed. I remember your initial threat, Captain Beauchamp, and I take it very seriously."
"You do not actually mean for Lucy to marry my brother?" Phillip demanded.
"If it happens, I will not protest, but it is not my goal," Robert responded sharply. "If you lot have been paying any kind of attention, you will know that my goal is to put the Magistrate on the gallows with his head inside of a noose."
"Please, we all know you'd love to see both your nieces pawned off to the highest bidder," Sebastian grunted, but it was more to himself than anyone else.
"In any case, we are closer than ever. But word of mouth about the Magistrate blackmailing James into marrying his daughter is not enough. We need proof," Robert glanced around his study. "There is nothing in here to help us push that forward, so the Magistrate must have had something, or he must have been given something, that allowed him to believe that he could blackmail the great James Boatwright."
"Could it have been something incriminating about Lucy?" Phillip asked.
"We all know the Magistrate used Lucy's paternity against the my family more than once," Robert said. "If James cared enough, the Magistrate could have used that against him too."
Ross frowned. "What do you mean?"
"No disrespect, captain, but James loved Lucy long before you did," Robert replied calmly. "It's a stretch, but Lucy's past is possibly a thing that demon spawn would use against a man as weak minded as James Boatwright. Now we just need proof that the Magistrate had something to blackmail James with. This list could mean anything without it."
"How do you mean?" Phillip asked.
"He's a Magistrate, remember?" Robert sat down and ran a hand over his face. "It could be a list of people who took precedence, people he wanted to get into good graces with... Anything! The Dennings can be made an argument for, but otherwise..."
"He's right," Ross clearly hated admitting it. "We need more proof if this is going to work."
"And I will find it, that is what my wife is for," Sebastian stood. "Speaking of which, I should be off. Elizabeth will want me to come home with updates."
"Do not tell her everything that we spoke of here," Robert said. "Only enough to keep her suspicious enough to keep digging."
"Oh, trust me, she has her own agenda to do that for her."
With that, Sebastian bowed and strode out of the room, leaving only Phillip, Ross and Robert. After discussing the list and a few more small details at length, Phillip called it a night as well, and then there were two.
And, of course, Ross had no intentions of leaving without having his say.
"This charade will not end with Lucy's marriage to Fredrick Doyle," he told Robert sternly. "I would sooner see myself at the gallows."
Robert sighed dramatically and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know, the more you talk about Lucy, the more you're sounding like the sort of lovelorn lunatic that led to James Boatwright's demise."
"Then stop playing her like a puppet!" Ross barked. "Let her have her own say in all of this."
"To what end, may I ask?" Robert raised an eyebrow. "If she so much as shows her face in Lanfore, it is over. All of it. She will want to take a stand and tell everyone what was done to her. She will want to have everyone see James for the cur he was. How will that look for us and our agenda? We want the Magistrate gone and for all of this to be over, and Lucy is the only one who can throw a wrench in that plan. For all of our sakes, it is best she stay in Derbyshire."
Ross stood, still glaring at Robert. "You will not use her to the point where she feels like less of a human."
"She became that when she realized that she was the daughter of a low life criminal," Robert said simply, as though that did not bother him one bit. "She is my niece, Ross, despite what the Magistrate says. I gave her over to Fredrick for her own good. Do you honestly think that anyone of good standing will want her after that? I did her a favor!"
"By marrying her off to the highest bidder, you mena?"
"Well, Fredrick was hardly a bidder, but if that is the metaphor you want to go with, sure," Robert feigned sympathy. "And, again, I am sorry that it could not be you, Ross, but I have to look after my niece's fortunes now, and I cannot marry her off to a... Well..." he cleared his throat, "A mere naval officer."
Ross shook his head. "You have no idea who I am, do you?
"Of course I do!"
"I don't think so. It's as you said, I'm a lowly naval officer in your eyes, with no true name to speak of."
"Which is perfectly well and good, captain. Your character is above par. But it is no match for the claimed daughter of John Quincy," Robert raised an eyebrow. "Unless there is something you want to tell me. A hidden fortune, perhaps?"
"Don't act like you don't know the truth. You know everything, as you've said."
"Perhaps I do, but I have had much to drink, so enlighten me."
Ross shrugged and walked towards the door. "Look, Mr. Quincy, you played a smart move with matching Lucy to a man like Fredrick Doyle, despite what you may have over him. But you should have waited before acting so rashly."
"How do you mean?" Robert demanded. "What do you know?"
"All I am saying is that in betrothing Lucy to another man, you thus severed her already existing betrothal to the Lord of Shorewind Hall," Ross turned to look at the pale-faced man and winked, "which would be me, the mere naval officer."
With that, he walked out, leaving Robert standing there, jaw agape and speechless for the first time in his entire life.
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