The Lady's Revenge

Her father said, “Let her stay, Maria. It’s about time she knew the extent of her sister’s scandalous antics.”

Her mother blanched. “No. Don’t speak of it. Not in front of the girls. It’s not…fitting.”

Letitia said, “Why not, Mama? You’re so frightened the truth will come out, aren’t you?”

Her mother gave another worried bleat. “I don’t think it will, dearest Letitia. Not if we all stick to the same story.”

Letitia burst out laughing. “Oh, yes, the one in which I had amnesia for two years and was sheltered by a noble Italian family during my illness. Well, it’s a good story and I am sure it will hold up under the closest scrutiny.”

Her father growled, “Yes, by God, it’s an excellent story, and thanks to your mother’s loyal friends and the family’s good name, people are thinking the best and not the worst.”

“Language,” murmured her mother. “Not in front of the girls.”

Letitia shrugged again in careless disdain. “What do I care? I shall simply brush off any aspersions against my character when I re-establish myself in London society.”

“Re-establish yourself?” Her father gaped at her. “What on earth are you talking about, you impertinent little chit?”

“I’m back, and I have every intention of picking up where I left off, of course. That’s what I mean, Papa.”

He gave a disbelieving shake of his head. “And how do you think you’re going to do that, my girl? You don’t stand a chance. You’d do better to stay out of the public eye and lead a demure, quiet life. Keep your head down and hope no one asks too many of the wrong kind of questions.”

Letitia narrowed her eyes at him. Poor Papa and Mama. Still worried about what people thought of them. They had no idea how resourceful she had become. Life’s experiences had wrought a remarkable transformation, moulded her, opened her eyes, and shaped her into the kind of person she had always suspected she might be.