would be better for all of them if she did love the man. What could Caleb offer her? And Bridget deserved happiness.
“I married a man named Robert Lavery.”
Caleb furrowed his brow and drank again. He didn’t remember any Lavery. “Did I know him?”
“No. After you went to the war and I realized I was pregnant, I left the Foreign Office. I found some work teaching art to students and sold a few of my own sketches to a printshop below my classroom. On my way coming and going, I met Robbie. He was kind, gentle, obviously infatuated with me.”
Caleb had no doubt that it hadn’t been difficult for her to attract men, even men willing to marry her. But the way she spoke of this Robbie made his hand on the brandy bottle loosen. She hadn’t loved him. He should have wanted her to find love, but he couldn’t bring himself to be that magnanimous. He supposed he was selfish that way.
“He asked me to marry him, and that’s when I told him about the baby. He said he would love the baby like his own child. So I said yes. We married. I gave birth to James—”
“James. His name is James?”
She nodded. “I called him Jimmy sometimes because he was so little, and James seemed like such a big name for a little baby, but we named him James Lavery.”
Caleb nodded, still trying to take it in. He had a son named James.
“Everything was good for a while,” Bridget said.
Caleb sat straight. “And then what?”
“Robbie had debts. He had a bad habit of thinking there was a way to make easy money. He was always meeting men who had these wild ideas that Robbie was certain would pay off with a little investment.”
Caleb closed his eyes.
“Some of the men were even legitimate businessmen. He went to the bank and signed papers, but of course, when the schemes didn’t come to fruition, Robbie lost his money and then some.”
“Did you make counterfeit currency?”
“I thought about it. When he realized how much he owed, he asked me to. But I said no. I knew we’d be caught eventually, especially if we paid the banks with counterfeits. I thought we’d find a way to get out of debtor’s prison.”
Caleb released the brandy bottle and clenched the table. He was too afraid he’d break the bottle if he continued to hold it.
Bridget in debtor’s prison. Caleb would kill Lavery for that. How could he do that to his wife and child?
As if she knew what he was thinking, she said, “He died there.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
He wasn’t.
“I knew how bad the prisons could be, and I didn’t want James there with us. He was barely three. I also knew orphanages were awful, so I found one I thought was better than most of the others and left him there, promising to come back for him.”
Now her dark eyes filled with tears. She didn’t cry. She wouldn’t allow that weakness, but her voice faltered for a long moment. “I wrote everyone I knew and asked for help. Robbie wrote everyone he knew. No one had enough to pay our debts.”
“What about—”
“My Great-Aunt Fredricka? She didn’t answer my letters, and I wrote her so many times. I knew she had the funds, and she sent me some anonymously, but she didn’t approve of Robbie and wouldn’t pay for him to leave prison—even if that meant I stayed in prison as well. And then he became ill. Almost everyone in Fleet Prison becomes ill at one point or another. Most of the time, we couldn’t afford decent food or a bed or a fire. We starved and shivered and slept on the ground. Eventually, Robbie caught consumption. I don’t know why I didn’t get it. Sometimes, he was in so much pain, I wished it was me and not him. When he died, I wrote to Aunt Fredericka again, and she paid the debts within a week. I don’t know how I can ever pay her back.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t care about that.”
Bridget laughed. “Oh yes, she does. I have to send her a shilling a month until I’ve paid it all off. And when I asked why she didn’t help me before Robbie died, she said because she knew if he went free, he’d just cast us into debt again.”
“And now you’re looking for...” He swallowed. “James. He’d be eight.”
She nodded. “It took me a few months to find a position and then a year