Chapter Text
It wasn’t long after Holly came in that Lucy managed to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the sitting room, and go back up to her attic to think.
Mary’s revelation had shaken her, deeply. And yet, thinking on it, it wasn’t actually that much of a surprise. It made a sick kind of sense- much more sense than for the Carlyles to actually adopt more children. Lucy had always felt more like an asset- a burden only tolerated for the money she brought in- than someone actually wanted in the family. The older three girls- the ones the Carlyles had the normal way, were treated better, but every emphasis was still on the jobs they could get, or the rich boys they could attract. And she’d seen how Laura, Connie, Mary, and herself were treated, by contrast- less like daughters, and more like employees. And not particularly well-liked or appreciated employees, either.
Mary got it the worst, of course, because she turned out not to have any Talent, not even enough to work the Nightwatch. Lucy couldn’t count the number of times she’d come home at the crack of dawn just to hear her mum berating Mary for that lack, promising that if she couldn’t bring home more money, she’d be sent back to whatever orphanage she’d originally come from. Lucy had sometimes guiltily wondered if that might not be a better fate than to continue living at home.
Now, of course, it made sense that Mrs. Carlyle had never made good on the threat.
Mary had never been an orphan. She’d been kidnapped, and letting her go would just bring a world of hurt down on Mrs. Carlyle, one way or another. The woman who’d made Lucy call her ‘mum’ from the moment she woke up might have known some of the same people as her husband did, but clearly she wasn’t willing to incur any favors to have her ‘problem child’ taken care of.
Lucy wondered how Laura, Connie, and Mary had made it through all these years without breaking their silence. She supposed that, having had the fear of death beaten into them early and often, they were just happy to escape into their various marriages.
But now, that silence had been broken. Lucy had been brought into the secret, and… it probably shouldn’t remain a secret.
Mary had said something about being arrested, but… surely they wouldn’t?
Lucy was just trying to puzzle out what the law might require of witnesses to kidnapping, when those witnesses were also victims of kidnapping, when she heard feet on the stairs up to the attic.
“Lucy?” Mary called up. “Can I come up?”
“Yeah.”
Mary mounted the last few steps and hesitated at the top, reminding Lucy of a scared Grade One apprentice, entering her first haunted house.
“It’s okay, Mary,” she reassured her sister. “I’m not mad. I just needed a moment.”
“I can understand that,” Mary said. “Listen… I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner than this, but…”
“No, I get it,” Lucy said. “You saw that I was happy, and you thought, ‘why ruin it?’”
“Something like that,” Mary admitted. She sat down on the bed next to Lucy and looked around the attic room. “This is nice,” she said. “Cozy. But… well, aren’t you and Lockwood…?”
“We’re taking things slow,” Lucy said. “And I like having my own space- it’s nice to have a place I can go where people know to leave me alone for a bit. Like after a hard case when my ears are bloody tired, for example. Or when I’ve just learned I was kidnapped as a little girl so that strangers could exploit me for my Talent.”
“Right. So… maybe a bit mad?”
“... maybe,” Lucy admitted. “Just a bit.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, neither knowing quite what to say.
“You know I don’t blame-”
“Is that a skull??”
Mary’s voice overlapped Lucy’s as they both spoke at the same time, but Lucy chose to answer Mary first. She stood up and walked over to where the skull’s cracked and blackened cranium still sat in the corner of the windowsill. She ran gentle fingers over the bumpy curve, a little startled- as always- at how small it really was. Sometimes she forgot that the skull hadn’t been much older than thirteen or so when he died.
“Yeah. This is- or rather was- a haunted skull that I talked to almost everyday for years. He was a type three- I don’t know if you know what that means, but basically, he wasn’t like other visitors. He was fully conscious, not just fragments and bits of emotion and memory. He was snarky and mean, and had bloody awful taste, but he was still my friend. He helped me out on so many cases… he even ended up saving mine and Lockwood’s life last year, when we were fighting Penelope Fittes. I used to think he might come back, even if only to say goodbye, but he never has.”
Lucy turned away from the skull. “His source got damaged in the explosion- too much like being burned, I suppose.”
Mary was staring at her like she was a visitor herself, but to her credit, she didn’t question Lucy’s sanity out loud.
“Mary, you know I don’t blame you, right?” Lucy asked. “I wish you’d told me… but I know why you didn’t. I’m not mad at you. The thing is… we probably can’t keep this quiet anymore.”
“Are you talking about those posh people? The… Bridgleys, was it?”
“Bridgertons,” Lucy corrected. “And yeah- them. As much as I don’t-” she cut herself off with a gasp, once more caught out by outrageous and unwanted tears. She blinked them back and forced the lump down her throat.
“As much as I don’t want to be one of them,” she continued in a mostly steady voice, “I don’t think I can hide… what you told me, from them. It wouldn’t be fair. They deserve to know the truth about- about whether or not I’m… I’m…”
Despite her best efforts, Lucy’s face crumpled and she turned away, trying desperately to hide the sudden burst of emotion. She mentally scolded herself, even as the sobs threatened to break through her control. She was trying to survive on the memory of air, her throat and nose both pinched off by her need to not break down in front of her sister, when a gentle hand on her shoulder completely undid her.
Lucy folded in on herself, gasping through sobs while trying to stifle herself. Mary pulled her around and into a hug.
“I don’t understand,” Lucy said eventually, after she’d cried for an embarrassing amount of time. “I don’t know why this upsets me so much… I can’t even talk about it without crying! Which is ridiculous, because I’ve been stuffing my emotions down since I was eight! I should be able to talk about belonging to another family without breaking down into fits. I didn’t even like being a Carlyle!”
Mary rubbed her back, the way she’d been doing since Lucy broke down.
“Oh, love- I don’t know… maybe that’s why you’re breaking down. It’s all finally too much, and now the dam’s broken.”
Lucy leaned her forehead on Mary’s shoulder. “Mary, I’m an agent. I have to be able to control my emotions.”
“Yeah well, I’m not so sure walling off your emotions like that is good for anyone. Sometimes a wound’s got to be cleaned out before it can heal properly, you know? And for people, that means crying about the things that hurt sometimes.”
“Maybe,” Lucy said, though she still felt, rather rebelliously, that however much this news shocked her, it shouldn’t affect her this much.
“So, are you going to do the DNA test?” Mary asked, after a moment.
Lucy’s chin started wobbling again, but she sat back up, folded her arms… and nodded.
“I think I have to,” she said, resolutely ignoring how much that scared her.
—
Kate Bridgerton sat at her desk in the study, going through some paperwork for the scholarship she was sponsoring. She was trying not to look at her desk phone, which had stubbornly refused to ring all week long.
She’d really hoped that Mr. Lockwood would be able to convince Lucy to do the DNA test. At worst, she would get confirmation that the girl really wasn’t Francesca. At best… well, at best she would have managed to find the missing Bridgerton. Even if Anthony wasn’t on board with that scheme.
Both he and Lady Violet had been struck with a certain familiarity when they’d met with the members of Lockwood and Co. both before and after they took care of poor Aunt Winnie’s source. That Francesca’s old hairbrush had ended up being the source, and the fact that all three of them stated the old lady’s ghost had gone over docile after screaming in Lucy Carlyle’s face… well, it all added up to a certain conclusion in Kate’s mind.
She’d mentioned her suspicions to Anthony, who had flat out forbidden her to do anything about it.
“It’s bad enough that Aunt Winnie came back- screaming Francesca’s name, too. I know you didn’t know us back then, but losing her devastated my mother, and she was already fragile at the time, what with dad passing so unexpectedly, and then the twins coming early… She was a shell of herself for years, Kate. It took years of therapy to get her back to where she is now, and… I’m afraid that dealing with Aunt Winnie’s ghost may have pushed her a little too close to that edge again.”
He strode about the room, the way he always did when he was agitated.
“As much as it pains me to say it,” he finally said, “and as much as I wish I could change it, Francesca simply isn’t a part of our lives anymore. We’ve moved on from her disappearance. You should leave it alone, too.”
Kate had digested that, and come to a different conclusion, of course. It was a rare occasion when she didn’t think Anthony’s reasoning flawed, and though finding her mother-in-law’s missing daughter might cause some pain (she had to admit to that) she thought that, in the long run, it would turn out to be healing as well. At last the mystery of what had happened would be laid to rest. Right now, it was like a sore, covered over by a bandage, but not truly healing. The bandage kept it from hurting too much, and perhaps a scab had formed over it… but Kate didn’t think it would ever truly heal until that mystery was resolved.
And so she’d paid another visit to 35 Portland Row, only to be all but thrown out after seriously upsetting Miss Carlyle.
Kate was honestly baffled by that. She understood that having your entire identity questioned would be upsetting, but surely not to the extent that Miss Carlyle had displayed. She was sure there was more going on there than anyone else assumed. Maybe some repressed memories, trying to break free? At the last moment she’d asked Mr. Lockwood to check and see if Lucy would at least be willing to take a DNA test. Of course, Kate would have to ask Lady Violet, or perhaps Daphne or Eloise to also submit a sample, since she herself wasn’t a blood relative- but she didn’t have to cross that bridge just yet.
But the phone had remained stubbornly silent, and Kate was beginning to think that Miss Carlyle and her friends had decided not to engage further. If that was the case, she wasn’t sure what she could do about it. It might be possible to get a court ordered DNA sample, but she wasn’t at all sure about how to go about that, and she had a feeling that no one would react well if things went that far. But perhaps she could begin investigating the girl’s adoptive family…
The phone rang. Kate jumped, and then hurried to answer.
“Yes?” she asked- the phone number she’d give Lockwood would have been answered by her personal secretary, who would transfer anyone Kate actually needed to talk to.
“I have a Lucy Carlyle for you, my lady,” her secretary said, at her most polite. In more private interactions, Kate didn’t demand such formality from her, but Mrs. Crenshaw insisted that phone calls and the like be treated with more decorum.
“Oh, good. Thank you, Amelia,” Kate said, and waited for the click that signaled the call transfer.
“Hello?” a hesitant voice came across the line. “Lady Bridgerton?”
“Yes,” Kate said, her heart pounding. “How can I help you, Miss Carlyle?”
“Well… I talked to one of my sisters after you came the other day,” the girl said. “Some things came to light- things I think you and your family should know about.”
Kate paused. The girl didn’t sound exactly enthusiastic. And if she wanted to talk to others in the family, this might all blow up and become a right mess. Still… in for a penny, in for a pound.
“I see. I assume this is about Francesca?”
“Yeah,” the girl said, sighing heavily. “My sister is in town right now, if you have time today or tomorrow. Like I said, I don’t know anything myself, but she does. So, if you wanted to hear it directly from her…”
Kate flipped through her schedule rapidly. There was a cream tea on the following day she could very easily miss, and it would give her time to decide who else to bring in on this.
“Would tomorrow at three p.m. work for you?” Kate asked.
“That’s fine,” Miss Carlyle said.
“And you don’t mind if I bring along another Bridgerton?” Kate asked, just to be sure.
“Oh. Well… I guess that would be alright. They should know.”
“Excellent. I will bring one of my sisters-in-law. I think, perhaps, we should not say anything to my mother-in-law until I have heard what this news is.”
“Probably a good idea,” Miss Carlyle agreed. “We’ll see you then-”
“Miss Carlyle,” Kate interrupted. “Did Mr. Lockwood tell you about my request?”
There was a brief silence, then another sigh. “About the DNA test?” Miss Carlyle asked.
“Yes.”
“He told me. I’m still not sure.”
Kate sighed. “You don’t seem all that excited about this news, Miss Carlyle.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not that great, if I’m being honest,” Lucy said.
Kate bit her lip. “Well, thank you for reaching out anyway. Good or bad, I hope any news will help my family to heal.”
“Right.”
“Thank you for calling, Miss Carlyle,” Kate said, bringing the rather depressing conversation to a close. “I will see you tomorrow.”
“Yes. Goodbye, Lady Bridgerton.”
And then the girl hung up. Kate looked at the receiver for a moment before slotting it back into the cradle. It wasn’t that no one had ever hung up on her before- Edwina and some of her in-laws did it quite frequently, whenever they were mad, or trying to play a joke on her. But it was rather odd to be hung up on in her official capacity as Viscountess Bridgerton.
Kate put that aside, however, and started thinking about which of her Bridgerton sisters to bring to the meeting. Hyacinth was too young, obviously- she and Gregory were only ten, going on eleven. Hyacinth had heard about Francesca, of course, but only briefly and had never seemed that curious about her to Kate.
Eloise might be a good choice- she had the same brashness of character that Lucy Carlyle displayed. She wasn’t very comfortable meeting new people, but the fact that Lucy and her sister had information about Francesca would probably help her over that hurdle. Still… Eloise might come across as too intense once she knew the reason for this meeting. If Kate’s own gentle questioning had the power to make Miss Carlyle flee the room…
Daphne, Kate decided. The new duchess might not be a Bridgerton anymore, but she had poise and knew how to navigate uncomfortable situations. She was also the oldest Bridgerton sister, and probably remembered the most about Francesca. And if there seemed to be a scheme afoot, or whatever information they were given seemed shady, she was best placed to have it investigated quietly without anything coming to Anthony’s ears before they were certain about the veracity of it.
Kate picked up her mobile-phone- a truly ingenious invention the rest of the world had already adopted, and which was now becoming popular in Britain- at least among those who could afford one- and flipped it open. She navigated the little computer screen and selected the duchess’ number, then pushed the ‘call’ button. A few moments later, Daphne answered.
After the usual pleasantries, Kate quickly summarized her investigation into Miss Carlyle and wrapped it up by asking Daphne to come along to the next meeting.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea, Kate,” Daphne said.
“Surely you must know how good this could end up being,” Kate said. “If the girl knows something-”
“But it probably won’t be anything new,” Daphne interrupted. “I know the investigations were all pretty much over by the time you married my brother, but if you think we left any stones unturned, you must be mad. This is my sister we are talking about, Kate. Anthony and I had our hands full with mama and the other children at the time, but I can assure you, we did everything we could to find her. Nothing was ever found.” Daphne paused. “There were people who claimed to have found, or even to be, Francesca over the years. That all stopped a while ago, but… we’ve hoped before, and had our hopes dashed, over and over again. That’s why Anthony told you to leave it alone, Kate. We just can’t go through that again. Now, I will go with you tomorrow, but you should know I don’t expect to believe anything I hear.”
Daphne hung up before Kate could say goodbye, much less explain how sure she was that claiming to be Francesca Bridgerton was the furthest thing from Lucy Carlyle’s mind. But that was alright. At least the duchess would go with her and they could find out what the Carlyles had dug up together. Perhaps it would be as Daphne said- nothing new and not much help. But then again, it could be something that had lain hidden for a decade or more- something that could cast a lot of light on what had happened to Francesca.
—
The phone rang almost immediately after Lucy hung up with the Viscountess, making her jump. Had… had the lady called her back? Was she going to scold her for hanging up like that?
Warily, Lucy answered, forgetting to identify herself in her paranoia.
“Yes, hello, is Mary Kendall there? Only this is her husband, Lenny, and I really need to speak to her-”
“Lenny, hi!” Lucy said, feeling such relief she actually smiled. “Yes, Mary’s here. Let me just go and get her for you.”
Lucy carried the phone up to the guest bedroom, thankful for the extended range of the new handset. Their old phone, though still serviceable (before it had been smashed during the break-in), had developed a dodgy antenna connection, which meant you had to hold it a certain way, or else stick very close to the base in order to get proper reception. The new phone was considerably sleeker in design, with a stubby, rubber-coated antenna, which worked just fine, even when surrounded by all the iron in the basement.
Lucy knocked on the guest bedroom’s door, which wasn’t latched, bumping it open a few inches. “Mary? It’s Lenny on the phone for you.”
Mary came quickly to the door, and took the phone with a perfunctory sort of smile.
“Lenny? Yes, love. I know, I’m sorry- yes, I probably should have told you sooner, but-”
Mary shut the door in Lucy’s face, reducing what she could hear to nothing more than faint murmurs.
Oddly, Mary had acted normally before telling Lucy the story of her actual origins, and right after Lucy had been too preoccupied with her own grief and confusion to notice anything. But now that things had calmed down a bit, Mary had seemingly retreated, both emotionally and physically. Hopefully a good chat with Lenny would put her right, although it seemed that Lenny had read the note and wasn’t too pleased with her.
Instead of going back downstairs, Lucy went back up to the attic. She had more thinking to do, and not just on her own behalf. Lenny’s call made her consider not just how her own life was about to change, but Mary’s, too. All of their lives, probably.
If their original ‘adoptions’ were investigated, and found to be forgeries… well, mum would be in trouble, certainly. Possibly the older three former Carlyle girls would be implicated as well. But what about Laura, Connie, and Mary? They’d known… but they’d also been victims. Would they welcome the truth coming out, or would they be annoyed at the fuss and bother, when they were well settled into their lives? Mary, of course, would be prepared, but what about the other two?
Should she reach out and try to warn them what was coming? They could resent her and Mary for that, but then they would probably resent it either way, and more if they had no idea it was coming.
It was something to think about, at any rate.