On the table in the workroom, Archie had set out the necessary papers and the pens. “It is a birth brief that we’re needing, for a young man going to the colony. The council did not grant him one because he could not prove to them his origins. His birth is, shall we say, disputed by the family. But he does have a testificate to show his genealogy.”
Sometimes when Lily looked at papers such as this one they were clearly falsified, drawn up all in one hand and badly done, but this one did look to be genuine. So it would seem the only thing that barred the young man from his future was that he’d been born as the result of fornication, illegitimate, and had thus grown from childhood in a world made smaller and less kind by other people’s prejudice. It would not trouble Lily’s conscience to write this young man his birth brief so that he might start his life in a new world, away from such constraints.
Archie informed her, “He needs it by Saturday. I said that would be no problem.”
“No trouble at all,” Lily said.
“He must be on his ship by Monday,” Archie said. “I do expect your friend got the same order.”
Lily’s heart dropped, but she knew that sometimes Archie knew things, and sometimes he was just searching, so she strove for lightness as she asked, “What friend?”
“The one ye walk with every Wednesday on the sands.” He said it casually. “I must admit that at the first I did believe ye, for I thought our Lily would not tell a lie. If she says she has only gone to take the air, then that’s what she is doing. And I kent that Matthew’s leaving left ye melancholy.” That, she knew, was said to twist the knife, and it succeeded. “Then a few weeks back, one of my lads says, Archie, did ye ken your lass has found a new man? So then I took notice.”
Lily sought to hide her inner panic with a mask of bravery. “Am I not allowed a friend?”
“Of course.” The chilling thing with Archie was that, unlike most men who could do you harm, he did not raise his voice. He rarely changed his tone. Only his eyes changed, their humanity replaced by hardness. “What was in the letter that he gave to ye this morning? May I see it?”
“It is private.”
“Nonetheless.” He held his hand out, waiting.
Lily knew she had no choice. Physically, she was no match for Archie. He would take the letter from her if he wished. She might have called for help, but who was there to help her? Matthew was long gone, and Simon—the only other of the brothers able to stand up to Archie—wasn’t in the house today. However much Walter and Henry might love her, neither had the strength to defend her, and to ask it of them would be most unfair.
And as for Barbara, her body and heart had been broken enough.
Lily clenched her jaw, reached in her pocket, and handed the letter to Archie.
He read it in silence. On reading the signature, he said, “Is he a relation then of your old friend Colonel Graeme, who formerly led the town guard?”
“Aye. His son.”
“Very nice. ’Tis a well-written letter with honorable sentiments.” Handing it back to her, Archie said, “Burn it.”
She stared at him, feeling her cheeks flame in sudden defiance.
Archie lifted his eyebrows a fraction. “That letter does give ye the power to leave us. Ye ken that I’ll not let that happen. Think how it would devastate Barbara.”
Unmoved, Lily told him, “The letter is mine. I’ll not burn it.”
He shrugged. “Ye must do as ye think best.” She knew that tone. Knew it, and feared it. He said, “Did ye ken Walter’s wife came to see me last year? No, ’twould be a bit more than a year ago, now. They’d been having some trouble with money, she said. Walter never could manage it well. She asked for my help.”
Lily guessed what was coming, but still she denied it. “No.”
“Oh, aye. She’s worked for me since then. In private, like. We have to keep it from Walter, he’d never approve, but he works such long hours he’s not bound to notice. And ye’ve played a part in deceiving him, too, all those times ye looked after the bairn for her, when she said she was just off to the market or wanted a rest.”
Lily told him, “You’re lying. If she were back again and working for ye, Simon would have said something to Walter. Nothing goes on in the Paunchmarket that Simon doesn’t see.”
“My dear,” said Archie, “I’d never be such a fool as to put the lass back in the house on the Paunchmarket. No, there are always arrangements that can be made with the right gentlemen. Quiet. Discreet. It keeps everyone happy. Even the lass, I would wager.” His smile was thin. “Once a whore, always a whore.”