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"You're wrong. Edward. Regardless of the circumstances of your parents'
relationship, you are most certainly your father's real children."
"Aunt Beatrice says we are ill " Edward stumbled over the word. "Ill
something."
"Illegitimate?"
"Yes, that's it. Anyhow, after Mama and Papa died we discovered that Mr.
Cleeton had disappeared with the money that was supposed to come to us. Aunt
Beatrice says that was a huge disaster because having a comfortable,
respectable income would have covered up a host of sins, in the eyes of the
world. She says if it weren't for Venetia's skill with photography we would
all very likely have wound up on the streets."
Gabriel had already concluded that Venetia was supporting the entire family,
but this explained why she had been obliged to shoulder such an enormous
responsibility.
"Who was Mr. Cleeton?" he asked.
"Papa's man of affairs. He stole our inheritance. Papa always told us that if
anything dreadful ever happened to him, we would be comfortably situated
financially. Only we weren't because Mr. Cleeton took our money and went far
away."
"Bastard," Gabriel said.
"Yes, I know I am a bastard." Edward's lower lip trembled. "That is another
word for illegitimate, isn't it? Aunt Beatrice and Venetia and Amelia don't
think I know it but I overheard Aunt Beatrice tell Venetia and Amelia that
people will call me that if they find out that Papa was not really married to
Mama."
Gabriel crouched down in front of the boy. "I was referring to Mr. Cleeton,
not you, Edward."
Edward's brow furrowed. "Was Mr. Cleeton illegitimate, too?"
"I have no idea. But it does not matter because I employed the wrong word to
describe him. Being a bastard is not a bad thing; it is merely a fact. Like
having red hair or blue eyes. It does not tell you the character of the person
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in question. Do you understand?"
"I think so."
"Pay attention now because I am going to say something to you that my father
said to me when I was your age. You are to remember it always because it is
very important."
"Yes, sir."
"It does not matter whether your father was ever legally married to your
mother. You are not responsible for what he did. But you are responsible for
what you do. Every man must see to his own honor, and
you will see to yours. That is what is important."
"Yes, sir."
Gabriel rose and put his hand on Edward's shoulder. He steered the boy toward
the door. "Now that we have got that clear, we will go down to breakfast."
"Yes, let's." Edward grinned widely, looking suddenly a good deal happier than
he had a moment ago. "Usually we have only buttered eggs and toast on
Wednesdays but Mrs. Trench says that because there is a man in the house now,
we will also have kippered salmon today. She says men need substance in their
meals."
"Mrs. Trench is obviously a wise woman."
They went out the door and down the narrow attic stairs.
On the landing Edward looked up at Gabriel. "You never told me the right word,
sir."
"Right word for what?"
"For Mr. Cleeton. You said bastard was not the correct word to describe him."
"Right."
"What is the correct word, then?"
Gabriel reflected on his obligations as a brother-in-law. "I will tell you the
proper term but you must bear in mind that a gentleman does not use it when
ladies are present. Is that understood?"
Edward glowed with anticipation at the prospect of garnering secret manly
knowledge. "Yes, sir. I promise I will not repeat it in front of Aunt Beatrice
or my sisters."
"You must not use it in the presence of Mrs. Trench, either. She is a
respectable woman and she is owed the same good manners as your aunt and
sisters."
"Very well. I promise not to use it around Mrs. Trench."
"The appropriate term to describe Mr. Cleeton is son of a bitch."
"Son of a bitch," Edward repeated carefully, clearly wanting to get it right.
"Does that mean his mother was a female dog?"
"No," Gabriel said. "That would be an insult to female dogs everywhere."
18
"The two of you discovered Mr. Burton's body at the exhibition last night?"
Beatrice put one hand to her breast and swayed in her chair. "You say he was
likely murdered? Dear heaven, We are ruined."
The shock and horror in her voice caused Gabriel to look up from his kippered
salmon.
He studied Beatrice, who sat at the opposite end of the long table. It had not
been his idea to sit at the head of the table but Mrs. Trench had made it
plain that in her view he was expected to occupy the position that Polite
Society had ordained as the proper station of the master of the house. When [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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