"But Charlotte--"
His wife pressed on with her argument. "Jonathan has paid most of all. It's time for all of this to come out. All of the lies of omission have to stop. I love you, Thomas, you know that. I'll do anything to make you happy. Jonathan is my friend, and Pamela has become my friend. Let us please help them, even if it means telling the whole world your sister was raped and abused most cruelly by Paxton, and treated in a most deplorable manner until you rescued her."
Vanessa agreed. "No one likes to tie one's garters in public, but silence can often do more harm than good. I hate to say it, but we have no idea how many people Paxton preyed upon whilst you kept mum."
"I had every reason to think he would harm them, or at the very least use his own daughter as a pawn against me."
"But Paxton is dead now. Vanessa is right. He can't hurt us any more unless we let him. The skeletons in the closet will only keep rattling if we leave them there. Take them out, and bury them."
Thomas hugged his wife to him. "I'm so sorry. I never stopped to think what I was doing to you all. I shall speak with Jonathan. Try to get him to see reason. I'll do my best to make this right."
Chapter Twenty-four
In the solitude of her room, Pamela paced up and down, floods of tears streaming down her face and onto her fine gown unheeded. She had to leave, NOW. She had made a complete fool of herself in front of the man she loved, and half of Bath after her performance at the Upper Rooms that evening. Her behavior in the coach had been her final supreme act of folly. Jonathan would do nothing but view her with contempt now. If he had not already thought her a light-skirt, the fact that she had allowed him so many liberties had to be the last straw.
She went over to her wardrobe and took down her valise and boxes, not bothering to wait for any servants to come help her pack. Her friend Abigail in London was not expecting her for a fortnight, true, but she could always say that she had mistaken the date.
Her Aunt Susan would not be so easy to convince. But the offer of more fashionable additions to her wardrobe ought to be sufficient to persuade her of the prudence of leaving early, in order to be able to take advantage of the small Season and discern exactly what was what and who was who.
She had little doubt she would never see Jonathan again. With any luck, by the time she returned home, he would be long gone. She might have pointed out to him the absurdity of his uprooting himself when in all likelihood she would seldom be in the neighborhood again once she wed.
Yet the last thing on her mind was another suitor. Not when her heart was breaking. She would be polite to all her past acquaintances if she ever ran into them, but would not by any means try to cultivate them. Only the Earl of Ferncliffe was really what her aunt would describe as worth knowing anyway. At least he had improved upon acquaintance. She had behaved so foolishly. She would make sure that she did not embarrass herself in so de classe a manner again.
The only flaw she saw in her plan was transportation. She could not travel in the Duke's coach. It would be far too presumptuous to make the request at such short notice, especially when he had been so hospitable already. She could also not send for her own very easily at this late hour.
She knew Vanessa had intended to go down to Lyme to see about some details regarding her deceased aunt's estate and its final sale. Was it possible that she could prevail upon her to give her the use of it instead? At least she knew what had transpired in the coach. She would know why she was asking, without betraying her discomfiture to everyone in the household. She had made a fool of herself, true. The fewer people who knew about it the better.
Another idea popped into her head. The Earl was supposed to be going up to town the very next morning. They could prevail upon him to provide transport and escort them.
She rang the bell, and dashed off a note whilst she awaited the maid.
A tap at the door heralded her arrival. "Please send this around to the North Parade, and then come back to help my aunt and myself pack."
"Very good, Miss."
As Pamela had predicted, her aunt was agog with curiosity when she announced their sudden departure. But the opportunity to head up to London with no less than an Earl was too good to miss. Pamela knew she would never hear the end of it once they were alone together in London. For the moment, she had achieved her aim of getting away from Jonathan, and the embarrassing predicament she had allowed herself to get into.
She stuffed her clothes into her boxes haphazardly, then sat down with a sigh, and began again. She would need to master her emotions if she was to pull this off. No one could ever suspect that she had fallen in love with Jonathan Deveril. No one.