“Yes,” thewoman replied. “On my side, there is me, Arabella and her husband Harry, my other sister Emma and her husband Evan, and on Lydia's side, we have her sister Louisa, the Countess of Arlington, whom you have met, along with her three younger sisters. She has twin sisters, Elizabeth and Margaret, as well as a younger sister, Cressida. It is fortunate we are all married to splendid gentlemen; otherwise, I believe Alexander would have felt quite left out throughout his life.” She chuckled, but Charity noted the sadness that crept into her eyes. “Every time I mention him, my heart grows heavy.”
Charity bit her lip in understanding. “I understand. My father passed away not long ago. We have just passed the mourning period. I still feel rather like I am not quite myself.”
“Goodness, what a tragedy,” the duchess said, patting her hand. “I had heard of Lord Pembroke's passing. Wretched that we all must go. But for now, we must carry on, mustn't we? I do look forward to knowing that Alexander's line will continue.” She gave Charity a playful wink. “That is not to put any pressure on you, of course. I know you are newlywed—less than a month now. Yet, it is a comfort to know the Hayward name and line shall continue.”
Charity suppressed the urge to clarify that not only was she newlywed, she hardly knew her husband at all, but felt that would be inappropriate.
“You were very fond of your brother, are you not?” she asked, though perhaps that was not the right line of inquiry either.
“Very fond indeed,” the duchess replied, nodding. “Not when we were children, though. I thought him ghastly then.” She shook her head. “My father was an awful drunkard, forever in his cups, and he drove Alexander away, leaving us alone with him. It was quite miserable, I must say. For a long time, my sisters and I held Alexander in very ill regard because of it. We felt he had abandoned us. We didn’t understand then; circumstances can be difficult. In the end, we found our way back to each other and gained greater understanding. I think, in a way, it is because of Alexander’s hardships that Eammon is who he is.”
Charity pondered this, though she did not fully comprehend. Sensing the confusion on her face, the duchess continued, “I mean, Alexander was haunted his entire life by the knowledge that he had abandoned us to our fate with our father. It weighed heavily on him. I believe it is what made him want to care for others. All our lives, he was there for us, no matter what. If any one of us had a quarrel with our husbands, he would intervene immediately. Likewise with his tenants—he was very responsible. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. I think that may be why he passed away young; he bore too great a burden.”
“And you believe he has passed that burden down to Eammon?” Charity asked, beginning to understand better, recalling how she'd seen Eammon interact with the tenant farmers and villagers. He was responsible in much the same way the duchess had described his father.
“Oh yes,” the duchess responded. “He raised Eammon to be a wonderful duke from a very young age. But even as a boy, Eammon had that in him. He was always protective of others, even as a small child. He was witty and bright—what a joy it was to have him join our family.” She paused, biting her lip, and Charity sensed that perhaps the Duchess of Ashburn believed she had revealed too much.
Charity leaned in slightly, closing the distance between herself and the older woman. “Do not worry, I know Eammon's story—the true story,” she said quietly, ensuring no one else could overhear.
The duchess touched her arm gently, steering her away from the crowd toward the orchestra playing nearby, knowing their conversation would soon be drowned out by the music.
“You do? He has told you about his?—”
“His mother,” Charity interjected. “Yes, he has. I think it is very sad that our country has such a difficult history regarding the Irish and the Catholics. A gentleman should never have to hide his own child. That he must deal with such questions of legitimacy simply because he was born to an Irish woman is dreadful indeed.”
“Right,” the duchess responded, though something in her tone and the flicker in her eye suggested she was not entirely discussing what Charity thought she was.
There was a strange feeling of apprehension settling over Charity since their conversation in the village. Eammon had recently become more secretive again, sneaking away with his cousin Thomas more than once—not that they were truly sneaking, for he had told her he was going, yet he had remained out until late into the night.
Moreover, she had overheard him discussing her inheritance with his solicitor—when it would be delivered, when he might see it…He'd sounded irritated, vexed.
And now, the duchess's reaction seemed strange. Was it possible she doubted Charity’s trustworthiness? Did Eammon?
“I don't mind it at all,” Charity said earnestly, eager to convince the woman. “I have always been fond of Ireland, and I believe everyone should be free to practice their faith. I shall never judge someone for choosing to be Catholic, not that Eammon is,” she clarified, “He assured me of his Anglican faith.”
“Right,” the duchess replied, but the surprise was evident in her voice. “Well, I am glad he has confided in you as he has. It is important in a marriage.”
“You are right,” Charity continued, trying to refocus. “Eammon and I have agreed to always be honest with one another.”
“Indeed,” the duchess replied, but the surprise lingered in her tone. It was clear there was more to this exchange than Charity could see. What secrets could Eammon still be hiding from her? Was she simply paranoid, seeking something amiss because she felt uncomfortable in her new position? Perhaps that was it; perhaps there was nothing to worry about.
“Well,” the duchess said, breaking the momentary silence, “I believe you will be a splendid addition to our family. I know Lydia is so pleased to have you. You will bring her much joy during this time of mourning for her husband. And this coming Christmas shall be merry again. The last one, was rather a sad affair, for Alexander had passed away just before and we were still in mourning. There is nothing merry about widow’s weeds and red eyes. Though we attempted our best for the little ones.”
“I do hope this coming year will be easier. Our season was also rather sad for we were moving and .... well,” Charity said.
The duchess interrupted her then and placed a hand on hers. “Enough of the misery, my dear. Now, will you join me for a sherry?”
The duchess's demeanor brightened as she made her suggestion, and Charity decided to set aside her doubts and worries, if only for the evening—starting with a delightful glass of sherry.
CHAPTER24
Eammon
“Ido not know what to do,” Eammon said, his tone betraying his concern. “Charity is ever curious, and I fear she will discover everything. With Lord Markham digging into the past, he may find...”
“He will find nothing,” Thomas assured him. “Hardly anyone knows the real truth. And what would he do? At worst, he might uncover that you were married after you said you were, and so what?”
“So what?” Eammon countered. “It is a matter of legality. There could be true repercussions.”
