Martha looked at him doubtfully, but she was too grateful to deny him anything at all.
"I'll tell her you are here," she agreed. She regarded his filthy and disreputable state ruefully. "You'd better wait in the pantry. But don't stand on the carpet... and don't sit down!"
"I won't," he promised, then followed her obediently as she led the two girls towards the green baize door through to the servants' quarters, guiding them as they stared in awe. They had never been inside a house so large or so clean-or so warm-in their lives.
Martha pointed to the butler's pantry, which was presently empty, and promised to send the maid up with a message to Hester.
It was less than five minutes before she came down, only the most momentary surprise on her face when she saw his state. She closed the door.
"What happened?" she demanded, her face eager. "Tillie said Martha has two fearful-looking girls with her, wet as rats and about as pretty. Did you find them?" Her eyes were wide, her whole expression burning with hope.
He had meant to be calm, to have dignity, to behave as if he had been in control of himself all the time. It slipped away without his even noticing it.
He did not speak, he simply nodded, smiling so widely he could hardly form the words.
She abandoned any thought of restraint and ran forward, throwing her arms around him, holding him so fiercely she knocked the breath from him.
He hesitated a moment. This was not really what he had intended to do. It was impulsive, too careless of consequence. But even while the thoughts were in his mind, his arms tightened around her and he held her close to him, feeling the strength of her. He bent his head to her cheek, her hair, and smelled its sweetness. She was crying with relief.
"That's... wonderful!" She sobbed, sniffing hard. "You are superb! I didn't think you could do it. It's marvelous. Are they going to be all right?" She did not let go of him or look up, but left her head buried on his shoulder and her grip around him as if letting go might destroy the reality of what he had said.
"I don't know," he answered honestly, still holding her too. He had no need to, but it seemed natural. He thought of letting go, of straightening up, but he really did not want to. "I've no idea what she's going to do with them. They're not fit for ordinary service."
"We'll have to find something," she answered, as if it were a simple thing and to be taken for granted.
"That is not all," he said more thoughtfully. He had to tell her the other fact, the one which now was beginning to make such hideous sense.
She was quite still. "What else is there?"
"You remember Martha told us their mother abandoned them... Dolly Jackson, Samuel's widow?"
"Yes?"
"I know where she is."
This time she did move. She straightened up and pulled away, staring up at him, her face defiant, eyes blazing.
"She can't have them back! She left them... that is the end of it for her!" Her indignation dared him to argue.
"Of course it is," he agreed. "Except that that is not all..."
She caught the emotion in his face, the sense of something new and of vital and different meaning.
"What?" she demanded. "What is it, William?"
"Delphine Lambert," he answered.
She blinked. She had no idea what he meant. The truth had not entered her mind as a possibility.
"Delphine Lambert," he repeated. "I am almost certain, certain in my own mind, that she and Dolly Jackson are the same person."
She gasped. "That's absurd! How could they be? Dolly Jackson was... well-" She stopped. He could see in her eyes that now she was considering it. "Well... she... why? Why would you think that?"
"If you had seen her and then seen those girls, you wouldn't ask. When Samuel died, Dolly Jackson put the two girls into an orphanage and disappeared, to try to improve her position, marry again, presumably as well as possible. She was a very pretty and ambitious woman. She succeeded superbly. She married Barton Lambert, who gave her everything she wanted."
She looked at him with slowly dawning comprehension.
"But she did not dare to give him the one thing he wished: children," he went on. "She had already had two deformed children. So she adopted a child-a perfect child-and she groomed her for the perfect marriage."
Hester did not speak, but her face reflected her sense of awe