“What? What is it?” he asked.
“I had an affair with a young woman after I married your mother,” his father said and looked at him directly. “There was a child from that union. Jonathon. He died from influenza when he was a little more than two years old.”
Briefly, Alexander was unsure if he’d heard correctly. Had his father just admitted to an affair? He glanced at his mother. She was looking at him serenely. They’d resolved this between themselves? But how could he ever view his father in the same worshipful way? How could he still hold him up to be the example of a life well lived? His mother replied as if she knew his thoughts.
“Your father admitted the infidelity to me very soon after he had told the woman he would not see her again. They had only been together a few times. When she told him she was with child, he told me, and we decided to support her. The child mustn’t be made to suffer,” she said. “Your father is a remarkable businessman and employer, still holding fast to the ethics of his family before him, a wonderful, caring father to you and Annabelle, and he would have been to Jonathon had he lived. I could never have wished for a more perfect person to share my life with, to be my husband, and I love him more every day. But he is still a man, Alexander. We are all tempted. His greatest fear has always been that he would be changed in your and your sister’s eyes.”
“I don’t know what to think,” he said and looked at his father. “I . . . I don’t want to think about it. The only thing I feel now is anger on Mother’s behalf.”
“Rightfully so,” his father said.
“Will you tell Annabelle now?”
“Yes,” his mother said. “She’s old enough.”
“How will you justify Father’s behavior to her? What will she do if a man is not faithful to her?” he asked. He turned and faced his father. “There are long-term consequences to your behavior, not the least of which is that I had a brother I did not know about. What were you thinking?”
“I was not thinking clearly. I was feeling as if my life, my carefree bachelor days, had been left behind, and there was nothing left to face except duty. It was childish of me. I made a horrific mistake and thank the dear Lord every day that Gwendolyn agreed to be my wife. I’ve spent the rest of my life trying to make up for my behavior of twenty-five years ago. But there is really nothing to be said except that I am extremely sorry.”
Alexander stood. Suddenly, he felt as if he could not get his breath. As if he did not get outside, he would suffocate. But there was one additional thing that needed to be discussed. “I won’t let Schmitt drag your name through the mud. It is not right.”
His mother walked to him and kissed his cheek. “If Mr. Schmitt is attempting to blackmail you, don’t do it. Don’t do anything to protect your father or me. We are well able to protect ourselves, and the ones I would be concerned about, my parents and his, are unfortunately gone. We’ll talk to our brothers and sisters, if and when the time comes. Don’t compromise yourself, dear heart. Don’t do it.”
“Your mother is right. Stay the course, Alexander. You’re the best man I know,” his father said.
And that was it. That comment, which made him want to alternately hug his father and punch him, was the one that made him run out of his father’s office, out of his family home, down the street, to stop and lean down, panting, hands on his knees, to catch his breath. He needed time to think. He suddenly felt very alone.
Chapter 5
Elspeth threaded her needle and stitched the tear in Payden’s shirt sleeve. What a boy he was, she thought and smiled. His tutors had nothing but high praise for his intellect and his character. He’d soon be taller than her. Elspeth heard a knock at the front door and continued her stitching, although she did wonder who would be calling this late in the afternoon. The door to her room opened, and Kirsty peeped in.
“Your Mr. Pendergast is here. He’d like to speak to you.”
She looked up. “He is not my Mr. Pendergast.”
“Well, he’s not mine either, but it would be impolite to leave him standing on the stoop. He wouldn’t come inside.”
“Where is Muireall?”
“She’s out with Aunt Murdoch. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
Kirsty stared at her. “Are you going to let him stand there all evening until Muireall does come home?”
Elspeth wanted to see him, shocked at maybe how much she wanted to see him. And she could not understand Muireall’s belief that he presented some danger to their family. He just did not seem the type, notwithstanding her original opinion of him, and what could he possibly do anyway? Was it so outrageous to believe that he was interested in her? For herself? She sat her mending aside and stood. Her sister followed her down the stairs and watched as she pulled a worn shawl from the hook near the door around her shoulders.
“Do you want me to come outside with you?” Kirsty asked. “For propriety’s sake.”
Elspeth shook her head and opened the door. He looked every bit as handsome as she’d remembered, but there was something about his eyes. Something troubled.
“Mr. Pendergast?”
He looked at her and then looked away, twirling his hat in his hand.
“I’m not sure what brought me here,” he said.
She lifted her brows. “Well, something certainly did. Would you like to come inside?” she asked, realizing she was willing to risk her sister’s wrath over this man.
He shook his head. “No. No, I don’t think so.”
“Why—”
“Good day to you, Miss Thompson. I’m sorry to have interrupted your afternoon.” He turned and hurried down the stone steps.
Elspeth watched as he went. He appeared as a confident, well-to-do man on his way to fulfill some mission as he tipped his hat to a woman walking past him. But that was not what his eyes said. His eyes had said there was some vast roil in his world, and an unpleasant one at that. She slipped inside for her bonnet.
“Be careful, Elspeth,” Kirsty said.
She nodded and hurried down the steps and quickly turned in Mr. Pendergast’s direction, even though she could barely see him ahead, now a full block away.
“Mr. Pendergast! Mr. Pendergast!” she said as she closed the gap between them. “Mr. Pendergast! Wait!”
He stopped but did not turn until she was nearly upon him. “Mr. Pendergast, please,” she said, trying to calm her breathing. “You must tell me why . . . why you . . . have come to my home.”
“Miss Thompson, I don’t wish to damage your reputation. We cannot be seen together without inferring certain things to your neighbors.”
“Why did you come to my home? And where is your carriage? Or your horse?”
“I didn’t bring my carriage. I walked.”
“You walked?”
He shrugged. “I needed to clear my head.”
Elspeth stared at him, even though he was not looking back at her. She waited until he did. “What is it, Mr. Pendergast?” she whispered.
He looked up and down the street and nodded toward a bench in front of a small open area of trees. “Perhaps you would like to have a seat and catch your breath, Miss Thompson?”