Nora (11 page)

 

S
HE DIDN'T SPEAK ABOUT
her need to leave the ranch when they returned, for fear of giving away what had happened. She changed clothes while Melly told the lie they had concocted, and she came back out neat as a pin and smiling through her pain. She looked the same as always, and fortunately the rain had not caused a chill. But inside, she felt dead.

The next morning, after a sleepless night, she approached her aunt in the sitting room.

“I should not mention it, I suppose, but Melly said that I had received an invitation to visit relatives in Europe through my mother,” she began.

Helen smiled sheepishly. “Yes, you did. I should have told you before now, but I hesitated to give you an excuse to leave us. Melly has been so much happier since you came.”

“I have enjoyed my visit,” Nora replied, and smiled back. “But to be presented at court…!” She let her deliberate enthusiasm speak for itself.

“I know. I would have been hard-pressed to refuse the chance myself, dear,” Helen said gently. She got up and fetched her sister's letter and handed it to Nora. “It is only a few days' delay, you know. I am sorry, but selfishly, I did not want you to go. There. Read it for yourself.”

Nora did. It was an invitation to the Randolph estate near London. The only thing that made her uneasy was that Edward Summerville was a friend of the Randolphs, but certainly he would have given up his mad pursuit of her after the thrashing her cousins gave him in Africa. London. The palace. An introduction to Queen Victoria herself and to the Prince of Wales. Perhaps the excitement of it would take her mind off her fall from grace and help her to forget that a man she had loved had betrayed her.

“I must go,” she told Helen, turning. “Really, I must. I am sorry.”

Helen shook her head. “There is no need to apologize. But I hope that you may want to return to us when you come back, so that we can hear all about it.”

“I would be delighted to return,” Nora lied. She would never come near the ranch again as long as Cal Barton worked on it. She couldn't stop thinking about what she had done. She had given herself to a common cowboy. Would he brag about his conquest? Her knees went weak at the thought that he might tell other people what had happened.

“You look ill,” Helen remarked worriedly. “You are not chilled from the rainstorm?”

“No,” Nora said quickly. “I am a little tired, that is all. The storm was very violent, and we were fortunate to chance on the little cabin.”

“Indeed you were.”

“I must start getting my things together. Perhaps Uncle Chester could drive me in to the depot tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, and you can catch the early train.” Helen moved her hands helplessly. “Oh, my dear, I do hate to see you go. It was like having your dear mother with me again, just for a little while.”

Impulsively Nora hugged her. “I shall come back again,” she promised. Perhaps one day she could, if Cal Barton ever resigned his post. And if there were no terrible consequences to face from her stupidity. It went without saying that her aunt would immediately disown her if she fell pregnant out of wedlock. Scandalous women were discarded by society; even by kin.

 

M
ELLY HELPED HER PACK
, looking morose and sad. “I wish you could stay,” she said. “How can you go away when you feel the way you do about Cal? Won't you miss him terribly?”

“Why, of course I shall,” Nora said, forcing herself to sound carelessly polite. “It has been fun, meeting him in secret. But you know that I could not become serious about such a man, Melly. Honestly, could you see Mr. Barton at the opera in those boots he wears?” she laughed.

The laughter sounded a little frantic. Melly frowned at her. Nora hadn't been the same since yesterday, and her eyes had been red when she came back to the buggy from her ride with Cal.

“He upset you, didn't he?” Melly asked gently.

Nora bit her lower lip, but the tears came just the same. She buried her face in her hands. “It was all for revenge, Melly, all the sweet things he said to me. He told me so. He was getting even for what he thinks I did to Greely. He was…taking me down a peg, that was all. He never cared for me. He only wanted to shame me, to hurt me, to make me sorry for making fun of his friend.” She sobbed brokenly. “Oh, I hate him,” she whispered. “I hate him!”

Melly wrapped her arms around the older woman. “The snake,” she muttered. “How could he be so cruel!”

“I never meant to make Greely quit,” Nora said. “I only liked his shyness. I was not deliberately cruel!”

“Hush, dear. I know. I know.”

“I loved Cal,” she confessed in a whisper. “How could he hurt me so?”

“Men are often cruel, sometimes without meaning to be,” Melly told her. “Are you certain that he does not love you in return?”

“He said that I was a fool,” she wept. “He said that all of it, the flattery and the secret meetings, were only to make me sorry for what I had done.”

Melly held her closer. “And this is why you are going home?”

“I must,” she said, hiding her fear from her cousin. “There is nothing for me here. In England I will be far away from him. My heart will heal.”

Melly wondered, but she didn't reply. Sometimes words only made things worse. She smoothed the chestnut hair and let Nora cry until the tears finally stopped.

 

N
ORA'S BAGS WERE PUT
into the surrey and she said her goodbyes to Melly and her aunt Helen while Uncle Chester gave some orders to his men.

Cal Barton came up beside her, hat in hand, mindful of the curious glance that came his way from Nora's aunt.

“I hope you have a safe trip back to Virginia, Miss Marlowe,” he said politely.

“Thank you, Mr. Barton,” she said in a thin voice. Her heart beat madly and she had to drag her eyes away from his. She remembered too well her fall from grace at his hands.

“Look at me!”

Her face jerked up, flushed under the glitter of his pale eyes as they sought the ravages of the day before. He said something under his breath, and his hand crushed the brim of his hat.

“Running away will not solve this,” he said.

“Neither will staying,” she said with the remnants of her pride. “You have nothing to give me.”

He looked away, his face hard with control. “My life was planned,” he said. “I have dreams of my own to
fulfill, and no place for a woman in them. While you,” he added, “have no place in your life for a fortune-hunting cowboy. Is that not so?”

She flushed. “I was wrong to accuse you of such a thing,” she said miserably. “I know you that well, at least.”

His face tightened. “You know me better than you realize,” he said. “In every way.”

“Do not!” she whispered frantically.

“We went together to paradise,” he said roughly. “Can you forget?”

“Do not shame me!”

He hated their audience, even if it was out of earshot. He didn't want her to go. Something must be worked out; surely he could think of some way to keep her here!

“Stay!” he whispered huskily.

She bit her lip. She couldn't look at him, because if she did, she couldn't leave. He didn't want marriage, he only wanted her body. She couldn't give in to the weakness. She loved him, but he felt no such emotion for her.

“I cannot,” she said heavily. “I must not.” She lifted her eyes to his finally. “There is so much that you do not know about me,” she told him plaintively. “I knew that I could never marry or have a child. I had accepted it. I would never have loved…if you had not made me!”

He scowled. “What do you mean?”

Her uncle was coming back. There was no more time. It was too late. Too late!

“Goodbye,” she said swiftly, and made to climb onto the surrey. Cal helped her. His hand on her arm was like a brand, burning into her heart forever. She sat heavily on the wood seat, hot tears threatening her eyes.

“Ready to go, girl?” Uncle Chester said cheerfully.

“Yes,” she said, forcing a smile and waving to her aunt and cousin. “Yes, I'm ready. Goodbye!”

They called their goodbyes back, but Cal Barton stood off to one side, his head bare in the sun, watching her leave him. He hadn't loved her, he told himself, he was only guilty because he had compromised her. But that didn't explain the emptiness inside him that grew bigger as the surrey grew smaller in the distance.

N
ORA SAILED FOR
E
NGLAND
a week after she arrived home from Texas. She was pleasant, even cheerful, but there was a leaden weight in her heart as she realized how foolish she had been. If there had been other men in her life, perhaps she would not have fallen so hopelessly in love with an unsuitable one. And now she had to wait to know if there would be consequences from her fall from grace. She had never felt so alone.

The passengers on the ship were friendly enough, but Nora kept to herself except when meals were served. She sat at the captain's table and looked elegant and cool, while inside she tormented herself with memories of Cal Barton's arms. These polished, elegant gentlemen would never think of allowing themselves to become filthy or smell. They were monied, sophisticated. But she remembered, so well, the way Cal had looked with a tiny, lost calf in his arms. There
had been a strange tenderness in his pale eyes that lingered, once, when he looked at her. She remembered it without wanting to, because it had been at variance with the betrayal that came later.

Her upbringing had made him like an alien to her. As a small child, she was not allowed to play with children who were not in her social set. She had started out to be a tomboy, much to her parents' dismay, but a strict governess had taken the spontaneity and impulsiveness right out of her. She had learned to be ladylike and correct, with exquisite manners. The alternative was a stick wielded by her father against her legs. Even through her thick skirts, it was painful. A child must learn discipline, he informed her many times, or it would grow up to be idle and without morals. She often wished that there were a gentler way of ensuring such traits. She seemed never to please her father at all, and her poor legs were constantly bruised in her youth.

Nor had her mother protested these discipline sessions. In such a way she had herself been taught to mind. Nora secretly thought that if she ever bore a child of her own, she would never allow it to be treated in such a manner, regardless of the consequences to herself. Unlike her mother, she would not be cowed by her husband.

Life was so riddled with rules and codes of behavior. She wondered how it would be to wear jeans like a man and ride astride a horse, or to be allowed to socialize with anyone she pleased. In her childhood
she had envied the small poor children who played with mud pies and rolled, laughing, through tall grass in pursuit of one another and the ever-present dogs and cats of the poor sections. Nora had never been allowed a pet. Animals were nasty, her father informed her. And of course, a lady never allowed her clothing to be soiled.

 

S
HE KEPT TO HERSELF
until the ship docked in London, and a carriage took her straight to the Randolph estate outside the city. It was October now, and the trip over had been bitterly cold. She wrapped herself warmly in her fur coat, with the bear robe looped over her legs to keep the cold from them. Her hand touched the long, thick, black fur tenderly, and she felt a twinge of pity for the poor creature whose hide it had been in life. All the same, it was pleasant against the chill.

She still had no idea if her body was fertile now. She had never been regular in her monthlies, and she was probably less so now, with the excitement. She missed Cal so much that she felt torn in two.

The Randolph estate was crowned by a seventeenth-century country house that had often hosted royalty. It was cold as sin, but it had an atmosphere of warmth that made Nora feel right at home. Her elderly cousins Lady Edna and Sir Torrance made her welcome from the first. They were minor royalty, for he was a baronet—a title with which he had been presented by Her Majesty Queen Victoria for military service, not an inherited title—but the elderly couple were less
stringent about titles and protocol than many others of their stature. They had no children of their own and adored young company, especially Nora. Nora thought it was providential that they had asked her to visit just now, when she so desperately needed pampering. Her mother was kind and sweet, but her father was a businessman who had little time for paternal duties. She had never once dared think about telling her plight to her parents, for fear of being disowned. Her father would never countenance what she had done, or forgive her for it. His opinion of “loose women” was legendary in the family. And while her mother might have been sympathetic, she would never have stood up to the head of the household.

The one kindness in Nora's tumultuous life was that she had not been revisited by the fever.

“I think your doctor is wrong,” Edna said firmly while they were sitting in the parlor late at night. “To tell you the fever is fatal! Indeed! I have known two women who contracted it in Africa, and both lived to ripe old ages and had large families.”

“Our physician is very knowledgeable,” Nora said sadly. “He has never been wrong before.”

“And what does a Virginia physician know of tropical diseases?” Edna harrumphed. “The very idea. A colonial doctor.”

“Dear, the colonies are now called America,” her husband chided gently.

“The colonies,” she repeated firmly, “need better
physicians. I shall have our own dear physician examine you, my dear.”

“No!” Nora sat back and forced herself to appear calm. “I mean, I do not need examination. I feel fine.” She could not allow a doctor to examine her, when she had no idea if she was with child. Perhaps a physician might have ways of discovering it even this soon after conception. She knew nothing of medicine.

“As you wish, dear,” Edna said gently. “But it is worth thinking about.”

“And I shall, I promise you,” she vowed.

 

T
HE GLITTER
of the English court was unlike anything Nora had ever seen. She could still hardly believe that she was to be presented to the queen herself. For days now she had been carefully coached in what to say, how to behave, how to curtsy. There was a rigid protocol that one must follow, and she paid strict attention to her schooling. Her one worry was her sudden tendency to become light-headed. Heaven forbid that she should faint at the monarch's feet!

About Queen Victoria, she had been singularly ignorant, despite her royal cousins. She knew that the monarch had nine children, that she was widowed the year the American Civil War began. She knew that Prince Albert Edward was the oldest of Victoria's children. She knew that Victoria had celebrated her Diamond Jubilee in 1897, and that she was depressed over the Boer War in South Africa and the Boxer Rebellion in China. It was a sad time to come to England,
in many ways, and despite the excitement of her day in the palace, a part of Nora was grieving over her betrayal by Cal.

Since the presentation was in the afternoon, Nora wore her best suit, a black silk one with a lacy white blouse and spotless white kid gloves. She wore a pert little hat with a veil, and her mother's diamonds at her throat and wrist. She felt elegant enough in her finery, but her first glimpse of the aged queen set her heart racing and stopped her breath in her throat.

Victoria was eighty-one years old, but she had the unmistakable proud carriage of her position and a mystique befitting a woman who had governed England for over sixty years. She was beloved by her people and respected the world over. Even Parliament deferred to her. But she looked unwell, Nora thought sadly. Poor thing, to have lived so long without the man she loved most in the world. She felt a strange kinship with her, because she was torn apart at the idea of never seeing Cal Barton again.

Her knees shook as she was presented to Victoria, who nodded and smiled pleasantly. She managed the curtsy without falling, although she was less calm than she appeared. A greeting, a quick retreat, and it was over. A moment to last a lifetime, and there were many others on the list who would cherish their few minutes at court forever.

“Well, my dear?” Edna chuckled when they were having tea in a small café a few blocks from Windsor Castle. “How do you feel?”

“Oh, I shall never wash my glove or change my clothes,” Nora murmured dryly. “Otherwise, I shall be quite normal.”

Edna and her husband laughed delightedly and offered her another tea cake.

 

T
HE DAYS PASSED LAZILY
. Nora began to recover somewhat from the journey and the grief that had preceded it. But she made no pretense at wanting adventure. She was quite content to let the servants bring her tea and cakes and magazines, and to sit in the quiet garden without being disturbed. Edna and Torrance were supportive without being intrusive, as if they knew she had been through some sad experience and wanted only to comfort her.

But at night she relived over and over again that afternoon in Cal Barton's arms in the old cabin. She felt his mouth, heard the tortured whip of his breath at her ear, experienced all over again the feverish ecstasy of becoming a woman in every sense of the word. It was a shameful secret. Not only had she sacrificed her virtue, she had committed the cardinal sin of enjoying it. When she went to church, she kept her veil in place and winced at the sermon. She had sinned quite terribly. Perhaps she would go to hell for it. But she had loved Cal, would always love him. Did that not balance the scales, even a little? And it was not as if she alone were guilty. He had seduced her. She had been innocent, but not he. Surely he had known exactly what he was doing, had, in fact, seduced her deliberately to
show her what easy game she was. That was the most shaming part of it; that she had loved, and he had only used her to satisfy a disgusting appetite of the flesh. He had not loved her. And worse, she had not cared. She had only wanted to please him, while he plotted her downfall. She felt unclean.

There was another worry, a secret one. She was late for her monthly; later than ever. And she began to lose her appetite for breakfast. She had always looked forward to the first meal of the day, enjoying her toast and jam and scrambled eggs. But just lately eggs made her sick to her stomach. The terror of pregnancy made her go cold all over with fear. Where would she go? What would she do? Her parents would disown her.

Cal had instructed her to tell him if there were consequences, but she had too much pride. No, there must be some other way…. And then she remembered the terrible fever that might recur and became more worried. Could it hurt the baby? She put her hands protectively over her stomach. Already she thought of it as a living, breathing little human being, even though she had no proof of its existence except suspicions. She lay back, shivering with reaction. She had no idea what she would do. She only knew that she must begin making decisions.

 

A
LETTER CAME FROM HER MOTHER
late the next week, reminding her that she must come home in time for Thanksgiving. She also remarked that Edward Summerville had come by the house and asked after her.
He was on his way to England, and when he tricked her angry mother into telling him where she was, he said that he planned to stop at the Randolph estate and visit her. Her mother was not pleased about this, and neither was her father, but there was little they could do to stop the man. Edward Summerville was the last person in the world whom Nora wanted to see!

As it happened, he arrived that very afternoon, having come over in the same ship with the mail from America. He was greeted warmly by the Randolphs, who made a big fuss over him, while Nora gave him a cold and unpleasant stare.

He flushed as he met her accusing look. He was almost too handsome; blond and blue-eyed, tall and majestic. He even had an impeccable accent. Women loved him. Most women. Nora found him repulsive.

“I hope that you are well, Nora,” he said, reaching for her hand.

She withdrew it before he could touch it. “I was healthier before I went to Africa, Edward,” she said pointedly.

He let out a long breath. He looked weary. “Yes,” he said. “To my shame, I know it. I have had long months to think about my behavior. I regret so much, Nora. I actually came to apologize. Imagine that,” he laughed cynically.

She clasped her hands tightly at her waist. “Now that you've done so, I hope not to have to see you again.”

He grimaced and shot a glance at the elderly couple sitting by the fireplace, trying not to eavesdrop. “You
will break their hearts,” he said under his breath. “They sense a romance.”

“That would require some imagination,” she said pleasantly.

“Ouch!”

“I have no feeling for you, save one of distaste,” she said bluntly. “I have been ill most of the year until the summer with fever. I blame you.”

“I blame myself,” he said fervently. “Your mother told me of your sufferings. I am a cad, Eleanor. But I never knew it, not really, until Kenya.” He leaned on the fashionable cane in his right hand, with its big silver wolf's head. “I hope to change your bad memories of me.”

“That will take some effort,” she said stiffly.

“I realize it. I have been invited to stay,” he added, smiling.

“Then I shall leave.”

“No.” He stood erect. “Please. At least give me the opportunity to make amends, Eleanor. I promise you that I will do nothing to offend you, nothing at all. I want only the pleasure of your company, when you feel inclined.”

She hesitated. He didn't look threatening anymore. In fact, he honestly looked repentant. She was lonely. It was probably a stupid thing to do, but after a minute, she nodded reluctantly, and he relaxed. He would keep her mind off Cal, perhaps, if she could forget the horrors she had suffered since Kenya. She was not hard-hearted enough to refuse him forgiveness, when he
seemed genuinely sorry about his behavior. They said people could change. Time would tell.

 

B
ACK IN
B
EAUMONT
, a weary Cal Barton was watching the drill work on the second tract he and his new partner had purchased. Pike was a thin, dark man, a little older than Cal, who'd spent his life looking for a big oil strike. Cal had needed someone to stay at the rig and supervise the men while he worked on the Tremayne ranch and gently guided Chester toward more modern methods of beef production. His heart hadn't been in it since Eleanor left, but he went through the motions. The thing was, he couldn't be in two places at once, and Chester was digging in his heels over that new cultivator.