I returned to the Duport Arms in Easton, though I remember nothing of the walk back, nor what I ate for dinner, nor how I occupied myself that evening.
The next afternoon, I returned to Evenwood as arranged, though this time, at my dear girl’s suggestion, I made my own way up to her apartments by a little winding stair-case, which was gained through a door leading off the path that ran from the Library Terrace round the base of Hamnet’s Tower. Once again we sat together in the window-seat, talking and laughing until a servant brought in candles.
‘Sir Hyde Teasedale and his simpering daughter are dining tonight,’ she sighed. ‘She is such a ninny, and her new husband is no better. I declare that I have no idea what I shall say to either of them. But, Lady Tansor being so singularly defective as a hostess, I seem to have been given the honour of entertaining her husband’s guests, and so I must away to do my Lord’s bidding. Oh Edward, if only I was not so beholden to Lord Tansor! It makes me so miserable to think that I must spend my life at his beck and call. And then what will happen to me when he dies? I was not born for this, but what can I do? Now that my father has gone, I have no one.’
She bowed her head as she said the words, and I felt my heart beat a little faster. Now is the time. Now. Tell her now.
‘My darling,’ I said, stroking her hair. ‘Put all your concerns aside. This is not your future.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I am your future, and you are mine.’
‘Edward, dearest, you are talking in riddles. Speak plainly, my love.’
‘Plainly? Very well. Here it is, as plain as I can make it. My name is not Edward Glapthorn. It is Edward Duport, and I am Lord Tansor’s son.’
*[‘To know all things is not permitted’ (Horace, Odes, IV.iv). Ed.]
*[The bookseller David Nutt, at 270 and 271 Strand. Ed.]
*[A Collection of Poems, edited by Charles Gildon (1665–1724) and published by Bernard Lintot in a small octavo, one-volume edition in 1709 (it later appeared in two volumes). It contains Venus and Adonis, The Rape of Lucrece, The Passionate Pilgrim, and ‘Sonnets to Sundry Notes of Musick’, which are in fact the last six poems in the preceding work. Ed.]
41
Resurgam*
She listened in silence as I told her my story. I spared her no detail. Everything was laid out before her: the conspiracy devised by Lady Tansor and my foster-mother, Simona Glyver; my upbringing as Edward Glyver at Sandchurch; my first meeting with Daunt at Eton, and his subsequent betrayal of me; the discovery of the truth concerning my birth in my foster-mother’s journals; and my continuing quest to find the final proof that would enable me to claim my rightful place as a member of the Duport family. I told her also of how I had first come to London as Edward Glapthorn, to seek information from Mr Tredgold on the arrangement made between Lady Tansor and my foster-mother, and how I had retained my assumed name after the Senior Partner had offered me employment. Finally, I spoke of Daunt’s criminal character, and of his association with Pluckrose and Pettingale. With each truth that I revealed, I felt cleansed, with a sensation of sweet relief that the burden of deceit had been lifted at last.
When I had finished, she walked to the window, and looked out across the darkling Park. I waited expectantly.
‘This is so hard for me to comprehend,’ she said at length, ‘though at least I now understand your interest in Mr Phoebus Daunt. Lord Tansor’s son – is it possible? Oh—’ She gave a little cry and placed her hand to her lips. ‘Cousins! We are cousins!’
Then she turned towards me.
‘Why did you not tell me before?’
‘Dearest Emily, don’t be angered. How I have wished – most desperately – to bring you into my confidence; but how could I do so until I could be sure that you felt for me as I feel for you, when so much was at stake? Now that I know beyond all doubt – by your letters, and by the sweet words that you have spoken to me, and by all the tender moments we have shared – that your love for me is as strong and as unbreakable as is mine for you, why of course the situation is entirely different. Where true love is, trust and frankness must follow. There can now be no more secrets between us. When we are married —’
‘Married?’ She seemed to sway a little, and I reached out to wrap her in my arms.
‘It is what you wish, is it not, my love?’
She nodded slowly. There were tears in her eyes.
‘Of course,’ she said, in a soft low voice. ‘It is what I wish above all things in the world. It is just that I have not allowed myself to hope that you might ask me.’ Then she raised her beautiful tear-stained eyes towards me. ‘But surely, my love, we can do nothing until you have proved your claim to be Lord Tansor’s son?’
‘No,’ I acknowledged, ‘you are right. But when that day comes – as come it must – you will be beholden to his Lordship no more, for you will have become the wife of Edward Duport, the future 26th Baron Tansor.’
‘Oh, Edward,’ she cried, ‘let it come soon!’ And then she began to weep tender tears – of joy at the prospect that I had presented to her, though mixed no doubt with natural apprehension.
‘You understand, of course, my love,’ I said, as I held her in my arms, ‘how imperative it is that the secrets that we now share must be kept safe – not a word of what I have told you must be spoken of, or hinted at, to anyone. And, for the time being, it will be best to keep my visits to you confidential. For if Daunt should discover that Edward Glapthorn is Edward Duport, then my life – and perhaps yours – will certainly be in peril.’
‘Danger? From Mr Daunt?’
‘Oh my love, yes, from Daunt. He is a far worse villain than you think.’
‘In what way?’
‘Do not make me tell you.’
‘What are you saying? Why do you not speak? Tell me, tell me!’
Her eyes were wild, and she seemed once again in the grip of that strange agitation of spirit that I had witnessed in the Temple of the Winds, walking round and round distractedly in a little circle in the middle of the room. I brought her back to the window-seat and took her hand.
‘I believe Daunt was responsible for the attack on your father.’
I had expected some powerful uprush of emotion in reaction to my words; but instead she fell gently towards me in a swoon. I caught her, and laid her down on the seat. She was as pale as death, and her hands made strange fluttering movements, as if under the intermittent influence of some galvanic current. I was on the point of calling for help when she opened her eyes.
By and by, her colour began to return and she was able to take a sip or two of wine, which gradually effected a revival of her faculties, though she remained deeply distressed by what I had told her, and by what I now revealed concerning the documents that her father had been carrying with him when he had been attacked, as well as the reason that Daunt had gone to such lengths to obtain them.
‘I do not say that Daunt intended to murder your father,’ I said. ‘Indeed, I believe he did not. But I am certain that he ordered the attack by Pluckrose to gain possession of the documents proving the existence of a legitimate heir.’
Then she asked me how I knew what had been in her father’s bag, and so I told her of the Deposition, at which she became greatly agitated.
‘But what if Mr Daunt should also obtain this document? How will you then hope to prosecute your case successfully?’
‘He will not find it,’ I said, with a confident smile.
Before coming to Evenwood, I had realized that Mr Carteret’s Deposition, together with the little black volumes containing the daily record of my foster-mother’s life, must now be removed to a place of absolute safety. My rooms in Temple-street were always securely locked; but locks can be picked; and Mrs Grainger’s possession of the only other key had given me further concern: suppose she should be followed, or set upon? And then there was Jukes, whom I already suspected of snooping through my private papers. And so I had determined, once I had made my confession to her, and had been forgiven for keeping so much from her, to ask my dearest girl to become the custodian of these most precious items.