A Game of Shadows (14 page)

Valerie opened the window and inhaled the fragrant air of the summer night.  Their bedroom faced the back of the house, thankfully sparing them odors of garbage, manure and human waste that wafted from a nearby alley.  The heady smell of the rose garden filled the room, chasing away the stale air of the evening and cooling the room by a few degrees.  Valerie could understand the staff’s reluctance to open the windows for fear of letting in disease, but the rooms were like ovens by midafternoon, making one break into a sheen of perspiration as soon as one crossed the threshold.   How wonderful it would be to have air-conditioning, or even just a good old ceiling fan, but alas, those inventions were hundreds of years away, and anyway, at this point plumbing would be at the top of the list.

Valerie propped up the pillows and got into bed, knowing full well that she wouldn’t be going to sleep any time soon.  Alec had tossed his coat across a nearby chair, but was still dressed and wearing out the floorboards with his pacing. 

“Alec, I’m getting tired just watching you.  Why don’t you come to bed?”  Valerie patted the space next to her invitingly, but he shook his head stubbornly without skipping a beat.   Valerie had seen him this way before and knew he wouldn’t be able to go to sleep until he exhausted himself.  She could feel the tension coming off Alec all through supper, but he didn’t tell her of Genevieve’s visit until they came up to their bedroom, not wanting to share the news with the rest of the household until he could make sense of it himself.

“Alec, do you believe that she’s really Rose’s daughter?” Valerie asked carefully.  They needed to talk this through, but she had to tread carefully, not knowing what Alec’s feelings were as of yet.  It seemed he didn’t know himself.

“She seemed sincere enough, and then there’s the resemblance,” he answered absentmindedly.   “You should have seen her eyes.”

“You thought she was Finn’s, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.  I wouldn’t have been nearly as shocked.  Don’t you see, Valerie, none of this makes any sense?  My sister was a devout Catholic who wanted to spend her life in the service of God.  The idea of her having a child out of wedlock and then taking her own life is absurd.  If Genevieve is truly hers, then who is the father?  Does he even know that he has a daughter?  If I had a child out there, I’d want to know.”  Alec stopped pacing and faced Valerie across the room, his face a mask of confusion.

“I can’t say I’d be thrilled to find out you have a child, but I see your point.  Do you think she never told him?”  Valerie had never known Rose, so it was difficult to guess what she would or wouldn’t have done when she found herself pregnant.

“I just can’t imagine Rose willingly lying with someone, especially if they weren’t married.  She caught Finn kissing a maid once, and subjected him to such a scolding that for a mad moment, he actually considered giving up women and taking the priesthood,” Alec recalled with a smile.  “Rose would never consent to premarital relations.”  Alec stopped in front of the window and gazed into the darkness of the night, not really seeing anything beyond his own thoughts.

“Of course, there’s always another explanation,” Alec continued as he resumed his pacing.  “Perhaps whoever he was seduced Rose, or even raped her, and then left her to her fate, which would explain why she wasn’t married and still
hiding behind the walls of a convent.  Maybe it was the only place she felt safe.”  Alec got tired of pacing and sank into a chair, facing Valerie across the room.  “But that still doesn’t explain why she would drown herself.  Rose saw suicide as a mortal sin.  No matter how desperate she felt, I can’t imagine that she would resort to taking her own life.”

“Alec, I can understand your frustration, but I think you will have to resign yourself to never knowing what really happened.  You can accept Genevieve as your niece
, and take comfort in the fact that you are doing something for your sister and her child.  I can’t see what more you can do.”  Valerie felt a pang of apprehension as she saw the look on Alec’s face.  She knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth.

“That’s just not good enough, Valerie.  I’m going to France.”

“To do what?!” Valerie exclaimed.

“To find out what happened to Rose.  I owe her that much.”

“And how do you plan to do that?  It was over twenty years ago.  Are you suggesting using the time travel device to go back?”  Valerie asked, unsure of how Alec meant to proceed.

“No, I don’t think so.  I have no idea how it would work if I went back within my own lifetime.  Would there be two of me, one in France and one in England?  Besides, Rose left before you ever came to us, so how would that change what happened in the future?  I don’t want to risk changing history.  I will just go to France and try to determine what happened.”

“You mean,
we
will go to France,” supplied Valerie, giving Alec a hard stare and daring him to disagree with her. 

“All right, we will go to France.  I think the only logical place to start is the convent, don’t you?  They must know something.”  Alec’s decision seemed to calm him down a little as he began to undress for bed.  He always felt better once he had a plan.

“What about Louisa?”

“I see no reason to
involve Louisa in this.  She can just stay here with Lou and Kit, and I will ask them to extend their hospitality to Genevieve.   She will be my ward and will not need to work any longer, besides she can be a good companion for Louisa.  What do you think, Val?” Alec climbed into bed, pulling Valerie closer to him, obviously feeling more at peace.

“We don’t know anything about her, but I suppose we’ll have to find out.  Let’s see how she feels about your plan.”

If Valerie felt any doubts about Genevieve’s claim, they were dispelled as soon as she saw the girl the following afternoon.  She’d never met Rose, for Alec’s sister was long gone by the time Valerie showed up at Yealm Castle, but this girl could have easily been the daughter of Finlay or Charles.  The resemblance was uncanny.  She had something of Alec as well, but it wasn’t as pronounced.  Valerie could see why Alec was so shaken by her appearance.  She had to admit that the girl was lovely.  She wasn’t just beautiful, but possessed the kind of charm and humility one didn’t often see in daughters of nobility.  Valerie liked her self-effacing manner, and hoped that maybe their daughter could learn something from her. 

Over the past two years
, Louisa had become increasingly willful and contrary.  Valerie supposed it was normal at that age, but she worried for her girl.  If Louisa wanted something, she went after it with single-minded determination that left no room for doubt or caution; she just plunged in.  At home at Rosewood, there weren’t too many dangerous situations she could get into, especially since Alec kept a strict rein on her after the fiasco with Tom, but here in England, God only knew what she could get up to.  She was already making plans to be introduced at Court and secretly plotting a future as Lady Carew.  Theo was unquestionably smitten with her, but as that old English proverb warned, “there’s many a slip twixt the cup and the lip.”

Theo had come by the day before and taken
Louisa for a drive around London, but he hadn’t spoken to Alec about the future, and excused himself shortly after bringing Louisa back, claiming he had a previous engagement. Louisa looked a bit crestfallen after he left, but was soon her old self again, alternating between moments of happiness and long stretches of moodiness.

Valerie had to admit that she had serious reservations about leaving Louisa in London, but to take her to France would only make matters more difficult.  Lou had promised that she would enlist the help of Aunt Maud in chaperoning little Louisa. 
If anyone knew the ways of the Court, it was the old lady, and she would keep Louisa in line with her unflinching honesty. 

Valerie turned her attention back to Alec and
Genevieve, putting thoughts of Louisa aside for the moment.  Genevieve was telling Alec about her life in France and growing up at the convent. 

“Did you mind growing up at the
convent?” Valerie asked, sitting down across from Genevieve and inviting her to take some grapes, which she accepted shyly.

“Mind? No, I didn’t mind in the least.  If the nuns
hadn’t taken me in, I would have wound up in some orphanage where I would most likely have died of disease or neglect.  The nuns were very kind to me, and they saw to my well-being and education.  Most of them had known my mother, so I was able to extract bits of information which helped me to paint a portrait of her in my mind.  I would try to picture her face every night before I fell asleep, praying that she would keep watch over me from Heaven.  Mother Superior said that my mother’s suicide cast her soul in Hell, but I never believed it.  She was a kind and gentle soul according to the sisters, so whatever drove her to take her own life would surely be forgiven by a just and loving God.”

“I’m so glad you don’t think ill of your mother.  She was a kind and gentle soul, almost childlike sometimes.  All she ever wanted was to devote her life to God.  I’d like to think he forgave her as well.”  Alec
reached out and took Genevieve’s hand.  She nearly yanked it away, but stopped herself in time, smiling up at Alec.  Valerie didn’t suppose she was used to being touched.  The nuns would not have shown her any physical affection, especially once she got older.  Alec seemed to notice the girl’s discomfort and let go of her hand, reaching for a bunch of grapes instead to give her a moment to compose herself.

“Genevieve, I intend to go to France to find out what happened to my sister.  Is there anything else you can tell me that might help me discover the truth?”

Genevieve’s eyes flew to Alec’s face in alarm.  “What do you mean, Uncle Alec?  What truth do you hope to discover?”  She seemed suddenly nervous, her fingers pleating the fabric of her skirt. 

“I need to find out why my sister took her own life, and I’d like to find out who your father is.  Wouldn’t you like that?”  Alec asked gently, obviously realizing that his quest might not be welcome news to his niece.

“When I was little, I used to dream that my father would come to the convent and take me away to be a part of a family.  I imagined that I might have brothers and sisters who would welcome me and love me, but Sister Marie-Jeanne said that it was a silly dream that would never come true and I should just forget it.  In time, I did.  No one ever came, so I stopped thinking of my father.  He didn’t want me, so I convinced myself that I didn’t want him either.”  Genevieve looked toward the window in an effort to compose herself.  Her dream was obviously not forgotten, and the pain of being deserted by both parents still haunted her. 

She suddenly turned back to Alec, her face full of resolve.  “I would like to know why my mother killed herself, but if you happen to find out who my father
is, please don’t tell me.  At this point in my life, it would only cause me pain.  I’m so excited to have found you all; surely, that’s more than anyone can ask for.”

“We are very excited to have found you as well,” Valerie piped in.  She could see that Alec was shaken by Genevieve’s speech.  She supposed he expected her to jump at the chance to find out the truth
, without taking into account what her life might have been like as a child or the disappointments she’d had to deal with.  “Would you like to meet Louisa?  She’s your cousin, and she’s anxious to get to know you.”

That was overstating it a bit, but Valerie wanted Genevieve to feel welcome.  Louisa was less than thrilled to learn of her cousin’s
existence, and hoped she wouldn’t interfere with her plans to take the Court by storm.  “She’s probably as quiet as a church mouse,” she’d exclaimed, making a face of distaste. 

“Louisa, you will welcome your cousin
, and you will be kind and gracious.  Is that understood?” Alec made an Herculean effort to ignore his daughter’s moods and outbursts, but he wouldn’t be defied in this.  Genevieve had never known family, and he would do everything in his power to make her feel welcome and cherished. 

“I’d like to meet Louisa very much, and I look forward to meeting my Uncle Charles and Aunt Annabel.  Do you think that might be possible at some point in the future?” Genevieve asked, her hands gripping the sides of the chair. 
Poor girl
, thought Valerie. 
She’s so scared that we’ll just leave her behind
.

“Charles and Annabel will be thrilled to meet you, as will their children.  You will have a home with us for as long as you want it,” said Alec.
  He’d noticed her anxiety as well, and wanted to put her mind at rest that she wouldn’t be left on her own again. 

“Thank you so much Uncle Alec and Aunt Valerie.  I never dreamed that I would get such a warm welcome.”  Genevieve’s eyes were full of joy as she looked at both of them, overcome by gratitude. 
   

Genevieve’s eyes followed the carriage as it disappeared from view, before going into the house and racing up the stairs.  She tried to be as quiet as possible, hoping not to run in into Mr. or Mrs. Walker or any of their three children.  Normally, she would have been happy to spend time with them as they had been the next best thing to family, but tonight she needed to be alone.  Her tiny room was stuffy and dark, but Genevieve never noticed.  She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, slowly sliding down to the floor in a heap of skirts.  She wasn’t sure when the tears came, but they flowed down her cheeks unchecked as she stared at the tiny square of twilit sky visible through the window above her bed. 

Genevieve’s mind feverishly reviewed every detail of the past few hours, still unable to accept that she had actually
not only been invited to dine with the family, but to come live with them and be a ward of Alexander Whitfield
—
Uncle Alec.  As Genevieve thought of his name, a fresh flood of tears overtook her, sobs tearing from her chest.  She fished out a handkerchief with shaking fingers and wiped her face before blowing her nose.  This was just a moment of weakness, and she had to stop crying before someone heard her and came up to find out what happened.  She should be crying tears of joy, but the torrent that took her so completely by surprise was a mixture of all kinds of emotions, ones that had been building up inside her since she was old enough to begin to understand her position.

Genevieve had
observed her cousin Louisa across the table, amazed by the arrogant assurance of the girl.  She’d grown up in a family where she never had to question her place or the affection everyone felt for her.  Genevieve couldn’t help noticing Uncle Alec’s indulgent smile, and Aunt Valerie’s pursed lips, as Louisa blurted out something she shouldn’t have and giggled prettily to hide her embarrassment.  How blessed Louisa had been to be born into a real family, a family that loved her.  She couldn’t possibly imagine what it was like to grow up in the frigid silence of the convent, surrounded by people who proclaimed their undying devotion to a loving God, but couldn’t spare an ounce of affection for a lonely little girl who had no place in the world.  Not a day had gone by that someone hadn’t reminded Genevieve of her illegitimacy or the mortal sin of her mother.  She prayed and prayed that some day her father would come and take her away from the cold, judgmental looks of the sisters, but he never did.  Sister Marie-Jean told her to put that foolish notion out of her head when Genevieve had shared her dream with the older woman.  “No one is coming for you, ma petite,” she said, giving Genevieve a look of intense pity.  “Your papa has better things to do.”  That had cut her like a knife, and she’d never mentioned her father again.  If he came, it would be a wonderful surprise, the best day of her life, but if he didn’t, she’d just have to learn to live with her disappointment. 

But the years went by
, and no one ever came.  The only man who came to the convent had been Father Marc, who later became a bishop and then a cardinal.  He was always kind to her and asked after her health and studies, but he was aloof and wouldn’t answer any questions about her mother when asked.  He petted her on the head kindly, making a sign of the cross over her and instructing her to be obedient and grateful.  After all, the nuns had been extremely kind to take in a bastard and not only clothe and feed her, but give her an education that would someday help her earn a living and make her way in the world. 

As
time went by, Genevieve formulated a new plan.  She would try to find her mother’s family, but no one at the convent would give her any information.  She’d even tried to speak with Mother Superior to ask for the name of her mother’s people, but the woman wouldn’t tell her anything.  She said that all she knew of Sister Rose was that she had come from England; she knew nothing of her family.  Genevieve accepted the answer, but refused to give up.  Her mother hadn’t hatched out of an egg.  Somewhere out there, there were people who belonged to her and maybe, just maybe, she could belong to them. 

It had been Sister Clothilde who finally took pity on her.  She was an old woman who had spent the better part of fifty years at the convent.  She had been one of the few people who had been truly kind to
Genevieve, believing that the sins of the parents should not be visited upon the children.  She asked Genevieve to help her pick some medicinal herbs one day, taking her for a walk along the riverbank.  It had been a glorious summer day a week after Genevieve’s sixteenth birthday.  Sister Clothilde stopped periodically, poking a stick through the grass in search of some particular plant.  She finally stopped, needing to sit down for a few minutes to rest.  Genevieve sat down next to the old woman, enjoying the warm sun on her face and the sound of insects drawn to the slow waters of the river, its surface sparkling in the midday sun.

“Genevieve, I’m the oldest sister at the
convent and I feel that I’m not long for this world,” the Sister began.

“Don’t say that, Sister Clothilde,” Genevieve wailed pitifully.  “I don’t want to lose you.  You’re my only friend here.”

“I don’t want to lose you either child, but I’ve had a long life, and whenever the Good Lord chooses to take me, I will be happy to go to Him.  However, there’s something that’s been on my mind that won’t let me rest.”

“What’s that?” Genevieve asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Your mother.  She was a good girl, pious and kind, and you are just like her in that respect.  Would you like to be a nun, Genevieve?” the Sister asked, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked at the girl.

“No, Sister.  I would like to find a position and leave the
convent.  I haven’t been happy here.”  Genevieve had never complained to anyone, but she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. 

“Just as I thought,” replied Sister Clothilde
, nodding her head.  “Genevieve, I’ve done something I wasn’t supposed to.  I’ve asked Monsieur Barras to deliver a note for me, and I just received a reply yesterday.”  She handed Genevieve a piece of paper folded into a tiny square.  “Destroy it after you’ve read it.”

“May I look at it now?” asked Genevieve, confused.  The Sister just nodded, turning away to
rummage in her basket of plants.

Genevieve unfolded the note with shaking hands, nearly dropping it to the ground.  There were just two lines and
no signature, but Genevieve knew exactly what it meant. 

“Alexander and Finlay Whitfield, Yealm Castle, village of Newton Ferrers, Devon England.”

Genevieve just stared at the words for a long time, unable to believe that after all this time she finally had a name, an actual name.  “Genevieve Whitfield of Yealm Castle,” she mouthed experimentally.  She knew she had a long way to go until she could say that out loud, but at least now there was something concrete, something solid.  She had no idea who Alexander and Finlay were, but she would find them and pray that they didn’t just turn her away without hearing her out.  Now she had a quest.

“Oh, thank you, Sister. 
Who is this from?”

“It’s from someone who knew your mother better than I.  That’s all you need to know,” the Sister replied with a kind smile.

“You don’t know what this means to me.”

“I know exactly what this means to you, child.  Now, destroy the note and tell no one.  Just make your plans accordingly.  You’ll be leaving the
convent next year.  If you try, you might find a position with an English family, which would make your search easier.  May God be with you, Genevieve.  I will pray that you find what you are looking for.”  With that, she gave Genevieve her hand, needing assistance in getting up off the bank.  “Time we got back to the convent or we will be missed.”

**

The tears finally dried up, leaving Genevieve tired and sore from sitting on the floor all that time.  The room had grown completely dark, and it was time to wash and get ready for bed.  Tomorrow was another day, a day where anything was possible, a day she never thought she’d see.

“I found him, Sister Clothilde,” she whispered in the darkness.  “I’ve found him
, and he’s so much more than I ever expected.”  Genevieve smiled to herself, the years of fruitless searching and disappointment forgotten.  Finlay Whitfield might have died years ago, but his brother was still alive, and he promised to take care of her and make her a part of his family. Genevieve sighed happily as she climbed into bed after saying her prayers and making the sign of the cross.

“Good night,
Mama,” she said before closing her eyes.