Beloved (3 page)

They climbed the wide front staircase to the second story. One by one, she looked into each of the six bedrooms. When she reached the last bedroom
—his
bedroom and the only one with any furniture in it—she stopped and turned toward him. “What if I don’t want anything to do with this? Or with you.” She drew a quick breath. “What if I want a divorce?”

“I couldn’t agree to a divorce.”

“Why? Our marriage never meant anything to you. You told me so yourself before you left me. Why pretend it matters to you now?”

“I’m not pretending. It does mean something to me. More than something. I’ve come to believe marriage is sacred.”

A laugh escaped her. Disbelief sharpened her features.

He was losing her. He felt the chance to make things right slipping away from him. He had to act fast. “Do you want to go on struggling to make ends meet? You and your mother could live in plenty here. And what if my father cuts off that stipend Mother requested for you? He could, you know. He isn’t legally bound to do it.”

The color drained from her face.

Good. It meant he’d found a vulnerability. Although he might dislike himself for using it—and any others he discovered—against her, he would still use it. This was a battle he couldn’t afford to lose.

He moved a step closer. “Let’s make a bargain, Diana. You and your mother move in here with me. You manage my home, furnish it, hire and oversee the servants, serve as hostess when I entertain, and stand beside me when I make campaign appearances. To the world we will exhibit a united front, a happy couple, glad to be together again. And when the election is over, whether I win or lose, you may leave if it is still your desire to do so.”

“You would give me a divorce then?”

He shook his head. “No, I still wouldn’t agree to a divorce. However, if you want to separate at that time, I will buy you a home and provide you with a generous allowance. Enough to keep you and your mother in comfort for the rest of your lives.”

“You would do that?”

“Yes. I give you my word.”

She frowned. “I would insist upon having my own room.”

“Of course, but—”

She drew herself up a little taller. Her chin—never more stubborn in appearance than it looked right now—punctured the air. “I want the larger one in the front.”

Relief flooded through Tyson. She’d acquiesced. He’d won—or at least given himself a chance to win.

“Let us be clear with each other, Tyson. I won’t share your bed. Don’t think that I will, no matter what you say or do.”

Once again he was aware of the depth of her wounds, the wounds he was responsible for. The guilt weighed upon his shoulders, but he could not let her see it. Not yet. Not now. “As you wish. But I have a condition as well.”

Silence reigned for a few moments before she asked, “What is it?”

“You must give me the chance to change your mind. About me and about our marriage.”

“You won’t be able to change my mind.”

“Perhaps not. But you must at least let me try.”

More silence, then, “You may try if you wish, but it won’t do you any good.”

July 1890

Tyson stood at the window of the small, airless, third-story office in downtown St. Louis, Missouri, where he worked as an apprentice attorney. Work he despised. A job his father had obtained for him—calling in a favor—before Tyson had earned his degree from Harvard University.

He hated himself almost as much as he hated the job. Where was his resolve? Where was his courage? Why hadn’t he refused the job? Why hadn’t he refused to go into law and instead done something that interested him?

The answer was simple—and embarrassing: because if he didn’t do what his father said, he would be cut off without a penny, and that prospect was less than inviting.

Tyson was the first to admit that the Applegate name and fortune opened doors for him wherever he went, whatever he did. Beautiful young women wanted to be seen clinging to his arm.
Other young men wanted to be his friends. He dined in the best restaurants and rode the finest horses. He was surrounded by comfort wherever he was. And even resentment toward his father wasn’t enough to make him willing to give up all that wealth allowed.

He swore softly and turned back to his desk.

THREE

Four days after her meeting with Tyson in his home, Diana stood in the bedroom of the small rental she’d shared with her mother for the past two years. The bed was stripped free of sheets and blankets. No paintings remained on the walls. All of their belongings were now in trunks and boxes, ready for the movers.

From the doorway, her mother said, “At least Tyson didn’t leave us without income as I feared he might. That is some comfort.”

“Very little.”

“I wish there was something more I could do to help in your time of need. You were so quick to come to me when your father fell ill.”

“I wanted to come. You know that.”

“At least your agreement is only for six months. A woman can bear just about anything for that length of time. November will be here before we know it.”

Diana nodded.
I’ve survived worse, I suppose
. “Let’s go, then. There’s no point lingering here any longer.” She took her mother by the arm, and together they walked outside to the carriage that awaited them. Tyson’s carriage, provided for this particular errand. It would carry Diana and her mother to his home where their trunks, boxes, and few furnishings would soon be delivered.

She hadn’t seen Tyson since last Friday morning. They had communicated daily via notes delivered back and forth by a stable boy in Tyson’s employ. Perhaps not seeing her husband was what had made it easy to pretend this day wouldn’t come. That it was all a bad dream from which she would soon awaken. But it wasn’t a bad dream, and she couldn’t pretend any longer.

As the carriage carried the two women closer to Tyson’s home on the east side of the city, nerves warred in Diana’s stomach like a couple of alley cats on the midnight prowl.
I never should have agreed to this. Mother and I could have found another way to manage
.

Only she knew better. She’d had no other choice. Tyson had the money and the power. He even had the law on his side, just because he’d been born male. She had to go along with him if she hoped to have a decent life in the future. How else could she provide for her mother if neither Tyson nor his father gave her some sort of allowance? She had little schooling and no special skills. The one thing she had was her looks, but they would serve her little purpose as long as she already had a husband.

The carriage rolled to a stop at the curb, and moments later Diana disembarked, facing Tyson’s home once again.
Her
home—perhaps her prison—for the next six months.

Her mother stepped to her side. “Gracious me. It’s more than I expected.”

Diana didn’t reply as she drew herself up, holding her head high, assuming an air of confidence she didn’t feel, and walked toward the front door. It was opened for them by a man she didn’t know.

“Mrs. Applegate.” He gave a slight bow.

She wondered how he could be so certain who she was. “Yes, I’m Mrs. Applegate.” Perhaps Tyson had shown him a photograph or told him she had red hair. “And you are?”

“Upchurch, madam. William Upchurch. I’m the new butler. Mr. Applegate hired me yesterday. I have been expecting your arrival.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Upchurch. This is my mother, Mrs. Fisher.”

“Madam.” Another slight bow.

“Is Mr. Applegate at home?” Diana asked.

“No, madam. He was called out but said to inform you he would return within the hour.”

Strange. She’d dreaded seeing Tyson again, and now she felt slighted by his absence.

“Mother, let me show you where your room is.”

“I’d like that, dear.” Her mother peeked into the parlor. “It’s so empty it echoes.”

“I know. Tomorrow morning we’ll go shopping for furnishings. We can’t continue to sit on two chairs. Goodness knows where Tyson has been eating since there is no dining room table.”

Upchurch cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Mrs. Applegate. It’s been arranged for you to interview several women in the morning for the position of housekeeper.”

“Oh, yes. Tyson mentioned that—”
In one of his notes
. “—but I’d forgotten. Mother, we’ll go shopping in the afternoon.”

“Whatever you wish, dear. I’m a guest in your home.”

Diana led the way down the hall toward the back of the house and opened the door to the main-floor bedroom. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here.”

“Why, Diana, this is a wonderful room. Very spacious. And look, two closets. Have you ever seen the like? One on either side of the fireplace. Such luxury.” Her mother walked to the west-facing window to look outside. “What beautiful lawn and gardens.” She turned toward Diana again. “I shall be very comfortable here. How could I not be?”

Six months, Mother. Don’t get too used to it. Remember it’s only for six months
.

“Will you show me the rest of the house before Tyson returns?”

Her mother’s question made the nerves start fighting in her stomach again. “Of course. Until we hire more servants and acquire enough furniture, we shall have to make do for ourselves, so you had best know where things are.”

Diana was glad for a reason to look over the house again, more slowly this time than the last. She would hate to be in the midst of interviewing housekeepers and have to admit she had no idea where the pantry was or that the laundry was in the basement or how many servant rooms were on the third floor.

The two women went downstairs and upstairs and looked into every cupboard and corner they found. When they returned to the main floor at last, they made their way to the parlor and sat on the two chairs.

Gloria waved a hand before her face. “Mercy, I’m worn out. Such a large house for just the two of you.”

“There are three of us, Mother. This is your home too.”

“Tyson must be planning for a large family, with all those bedrooms upstairs.”

Diana sucked in a quick breath and whispered, “Mother!” The idea shocked her. Shocked her because it brought memories of sweet intimacies she’d once shared with her husband. And the idea hurt her too. Because there had been a time when she’d dreamed of having children with Tyson. But that dream was gone forever.

“Well, didn’t you say he wants to convince you to stay with him? If he’s successful in his mission, I should imagine he’ll want children with you.”

Diana began to regret telling her mother every detail of her meeting with Tyson.

“Your father always wanted a large family.” Her mother’s expression turned instantly sorrowful.

Diana leaned forward and squeezed her hand. “Tyson isn’t anything like my father.”

Her mother swallowed, shook her head, and shrugged in quick succession.

As if summoned by her words, Tyson appeared in the parlor doorway. “You’re here.” He smiled at Diana, then removed his hat and handed it to Upchurch, who waited just out of sight. As he strode into the parlor, Tyson shifted his gaze to Diana’s mother. “Mrs. Fisher, it’s a pleasure to see you again. I was very sorry to learn of your husband’s passing. You have my deepest sympathies.”

He already sounds like a politician
.

“I’m told the movers will be here no later than three o’clock,” he continued. “Enough time so both of you shall have beds to sleep in tonight.”

“I should hope so.” Gloria released the hand he’d offered her.

“And I thought we would dine out this evening. Then, with any luck, Diana—” He looked at her again. “—will approve of one of the women she interviews tomorrow morning. With both a butler and a housekeeper, things should function properly in the Applegate home from then on.”

Diana’s head throbbed. She would rather lie down and pretend none of this was happening than go out to dine and pretend to be a happy couple. And what did she know about hiring household staff? She supposed she’d learned a few things while living with her mother- and father-in-law, but it was very little. The Applegate mansion up north was four or five times the size of this house, and she had no idea how many servants had been needed to keep it running smoothly. She’d certainly paid no attention to their individual duties.

But this was the bargain she’d struck with Tyson. She would have to make the best of it.

There had been moments during the last four days when Tyson almost convinced himself his wife would be glad to move into this house with him. Perhaps because he hadn’t seen her face, only her words on the notes she’d sent him in reply to his own. But now he could see her face, and the expression she wore dispelled any illusions that she might be glad about her present circumstances. She disliked him. Despised him. Perhaps hated him. And she certainly didn’t want to be with him.

Can I blame her?
Not if he was honest with himself.

The silence stretching between them began to feel uncomfortable.

Once again Tyson looked at his mother-in-law. “Have you seen the rest of the house, Mrs. Fisher?”

“Yes. Diana gave me a tour.”

“Good.” He nodded. “I hope you’ll be comfortable.”

“I’m sure I will be.”

“Did you have a chance to go out to see the gardens?”

“No. But I have a good view of them from my bedroom window. It’s all quite beautiful, Tyson. Another month and the colors will be even more glorious than they are now.”

He returned his gaze to Diana. “May I show you and your mother the stables? I assume you haven’t been out there yet. I’ve purchased some fine horses you might want to see. I remember how fond you are of riding.”

This at last brought a spark of interest to his wife’s eyes. He’d been counting on that. A love of horses was something they had in common.

He held out his hand toward her. “Please. Let’s have a look at them.”

She placed her fingers in his and allowed him to draw her up from the chair. He would have liked to keep holding her hand, but she withdrew it as soon as she was upright.

He pretended not to notice. “Mrs. Fisher, will you join us?”