“Go on tell us more,” Charlotte called out.
“It took a number of years before I could recall more details of that night.” He turned to Lucy. “I finally remembered you trying to escape from the open front door. But I never knew whether you made it out alive or not. And my hope that you did was what finally drove me to come looking for you. Mr. Bartlett had told me he found me in Dorset near the small town of Branford. That is where I started my search. But I digress.”
He turned back to his audience and proceeded. “By the time I recollected the circumstance of the fire I was eighteen and well ensconced in my new family and was not able to come back here. My father had taken me into the family business as an apprentice, and I worked my way up to become first his right-hand man and then eventually his partner.”
“Then you are a gentleman!” Betsy cried out.
Harold laughed. “I believe you could say that.”
Betsy clapped, and her Grace took notice.
“And your education, young man?” Her Grace asked.
“Eaton and Cambridge.”
Her Grace nodded and made an entry in her notebook. “Continue.”
“There is not a great deal more to tell. I continued to be haunted by that final image of my sister. I was desperate to know if she survived or not. Hoping that one day I might be free to discover if she survived the fire or not.”
“And here I am,” Lucy said, going over and embracing her brother.
He turned to her and smiled. “And here you are.”
Matthew spoke up, asking, “And the Bartletts? Are they still alive?”
“Alas, they are not. My mother, as I came to call her, was taken with the flu several years ago, and my father succumbed to his advanced age just last year.”
“Then you continue to run the business?” Matthew asked.
“No, I sold the business to pursue other interests—including the search for my darling Lucy.”
“Then you must have a substantial living, Mr. Brighton,” Judith said aloud, not quite realizing she had asked such a rude question.
But Harold was not fazed by the question. “I have, Your Grace.”
“And now that you have found your beloved Lucy, what is next?” George asked.
Lucy and Harold looked at each other. “Yet to be determined,” Harold answered.
“We still have a lot of catching up to do,” Lucy added. “I expect there are many issues to consider. And it will take some time.”
“Well, Mr. Brighton, you are welcome to stay at Grayson as long as needed. Where are you staying now?” Matthew asked.
“Mr. Stevens has, most graciously, allowed me to use a room downstairs.”
Matthew became indignant. “Oh, no. Never. We cannot have a gentleman such as yourself staying in the servant’s quarters.” He turned to Stevens and said, “Transfer his belongings immediately to the Swinton suite.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” and he left.
“And might I have my sister stay with me?” Harold asked.
A silence befell the room. Her Grace looked horrified. Charlotte and Ann looked horrified. Betsy beamed, and George looked perplexed.
His Grace was thoughtful and replied, “Of course, I believe there are two bedrooms in the suite.” Then he asked Lucy, “Where are you staying now, Miss Lucy.”
“I share a room with one of the kitchen maids.”
This news seemed to shock his Grace. “You are with a kitchen maid? I had no idea. And why is that?”
