Only You (25 page)

Her friends had snickered about her affair, about him and his lack of ambition for any suitable venture.  They’d teased her about the bohemian life she’d have if she married him.  She’d heeded them and had coldly broken it off, refusing to be poor, to struggle in that tiny flat where there was no heat, water, servants, or food.

Well, hadn’t she dropped down a few pegs since those arrogant days?  In reflecting on that frivolous era, she’d realized that Neville was the only person who’d ever cared about her.  He’d loved her!  He’d told her so over and over, and she’d spurned him for reasons that seemed silly now.

In light of her current predicament, there was no one else in whom she could confide.  She thought he’d assist her, and if he wouldn’t, at least he would listen.  He’d let her talk about the terrible things that had transpired, the terrible things she’d done. 

If she could just mention Preston and the events in Cairo, she was certain some of her distress would wane.  From the moment she’d learned that he’d tricked her, she hadn’t been able to tell anyone.

She might have approached Theo, but Susan had been so awful to her cousin that she’d wrecked any chance to vent about her woe.  The fact that she’d been ill the whole journey hadn’t helped either.  She’d felt too miserable to mend any fences, and Theo had been happy for her to suffer alone.

Her nausea had faded somewhat once they’d docked in London, but her stomach hadn’t completely settled, and she’d begun to wonder if she hadn’t contracted a serious ailment.  It had been the mocking whispers of her mother’s cook and housemaid that had clarified Susan’s situation.

It appears Miss Susan is no better than she has to be!

Which bloke do you suppose nailed her?

Mrs. Wallace will likely expire from mortification.

I’m glad the Colonel isn’t alive to see this!  If he wasn’t already dead in the ground, this news would send him there!

They had riotously guffawed.  Edna had been out visiting, and they’d assumed Susan was resting in her room, but she’d come down to the kitchen to ask for a cup of tea.  She’d hidden in the hall, privy to every word of their blistering conversation, then had sneaked away.

She was having a baby.  She hadn’t consulted a doctor to have the debacle confirmed, but the servants’ remarks had rung true.

She was a frivolous, stupid child.  She’d understood that pregnancy could occur when a girl misbehaved, but it had been an abstract concept she hadn’t focused on as a real possibility. 

She’d figured it would be years in the future, when she and Preston were happily wed and eager to start a family.  She hadn’t recalled that it could simply crop up out of the blue when she wasn’t prepared at all.

She arrived at the small landing at the top of the stairs.  Someone was walking about in the apartment, and she offered up a quiet prayer that it would be Neville.  If he’d moved, she’d have no idea how to find him.

She rolled back the veil on her hat, then knocked briskly.

“Just a minute, just a minute,” a man mumbled inside.  She heard footsteps, then the door was yanked open.

And there was gloriously handsome Neville.  With his flowing blond hair that curled over his shoulders, he looked like a Greek god.  His blue eyes were a penetrating color, the same shade of sky he utilized in so many of his paintings.  He was attired in the loose, comfortable clothes he always wore when he was working, an apron covering all, but still he was coated with blotches of paint.

His sartorial condition had been a point of amusement to her and her friends, and they’d often scoffed and joked about it.  Now though, after the appalling months away, she’d never witnessed a lovelier sight.

“Susan,” he murmured.

Though it was mad to hope for it, she’d thought he might hug her.  She could definitely use a hug, but he gave no indication of being glad to see her. 

“May I come in?” she hesitantly asked.

“Yes, yes, of course.”

He pulled the door wider, and she entered, quickly scanning the area.  He had numerous projects in progress, each easel holding a partially-finished canvas.  He had a sofa in the middle of the floor, but it was piled with debris and supplies.  He rushed over and shoved it all onto the floor.

“Won’t you sit?” he said.

“Thank you.”

She sat, and there was an awkward silence where he frowned down at her, not sure how to behave around her.  She gestured to the empty spot next to her. 

“Won’t you join me?” she asked.

“I suppose I can.”

He eased himself down, gripping the opposite edge so he could maintain as much space between them as he could.  Her heart sank.  Did he hate her?  Had his love faded away?  Were they even friends anymore?

“How was your trip?”  He studiously avoided her gaze.

“It was fine.”  She halted, scowled.  Why be polite?  Why pretend?  “Actually, it wasn’t fine.  It was dreadful.”

“I’m sorry.”  He didn’t sound sorry.  “I stopped by your mother’s.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t realize you’d left.  I had to hear the news from a servant.”

“Mother insisted we leave on the spur of the moment.  I didn’t have a chance to sneak away and inform you.”  It was a bald-faced lie.  She’d deliberately declined to notify him.  It had been a cruel, spiteful act.

“You could have found a way to apprise me.  If you’d really wanted to, you could have.”

Her cheeks flushed with shame.  She’d been such a malicious, irresponsible person.  “I was awful to you.  You were so kind and devoted, and I was awful.”

He made a waffling motion with his hand.  “Water under the bridge, Susan.  Water under the bridge.”

“Why did you risk stopping at my mother’s?”

“You hadn’t contacted me in ages, and I was worried about you.  I was afraid something had happened, that you were ill or you’d had an accident.”  He paused, then added more quietly, “Or perhaps that your mother had locked you away somewhere where I’d never find you.”

The comment mortified her.  He’d been doting and faithful, and if she’d eloped with him when he’d asked, if she hadn’t been such a snooty, arrogant shrew, she could have been living happily with him.  She’d have evaded the entire catastrophe that was Egypt, and she wouldn’t now be immersed in the quandary that was crushing her.

He had smart, interesting, talented acquaintances who were writers and artists and actors.  During her affair with him, there had been nights at the theater, openings at galleries, and amusing supper parties where the conversation was vivacious and the company worth keeping.

She’d tossed it all away because her friends had scoffed at the prospect of her marrying an artist, because her mother had claimed it was impossible.  She’d let everyone convince her to be horrid to him.  Had she no spine at all? 

Apparently not, but she had to grow up and behave like the adult woman she was desperate to be.

“No, Mother didn’t lock me away,” she said.  “She demanded I travel with her to Egypt, so she could split us apart.”

“It definitely succeeded.”

He stood and went over to the windows, and for a lengthy interval, he stared down at the street.  He was stoically silent, and she couldn’t guess what he was thinking.

Eventually, he turned, his hips leaned on the sill.  “I have some news.”

“What is it?”

“A cousin of mine met Lady Henley.  He showed her some of my portraits, and I’ve won her patronage.”

“That’s marvelous, Neville.  I always thought you deserved recognition.”

“I’ll have some money now, and I’ll be moving to a better apartment in a better neighborhood.  I haven’t yet, because…well…you know me.  I’ve been busy with my painting, and I haven’t had a minute to search.”  He pointed to the windows.  “I would have to have this much light—or more.”

“I know that about you.”

They shared a fleeting smile, then his faded. 

“What are you doing here, Susan?  After all this time—without a goodbye, without a letter of explanation—and suddenly, you just pop in without warning.  I assumed we had an understanding.  I assumed we were…oh, I don’t know what we were.”

“You were so wonderful to me.”

He shrugged.  “It appears it was a wasted effort.”

“No, it wasn’t.  I was spoiled and petty and focused on ludicrous issues.”

“Yes, you were, but I liked you anyway.”

“I was so lucky, but I didn’t realize it.  I apologize for how I treated you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

She sensed he wanted her to leave, but he was too polite to say so.  She couldn’t bear to depart without confiding in him, and while it was hideously pompous of her to inflict herself on him, to force him to hear her story, she had to unburden herself.  If she didn’t, she truly felt she might perish from the poison of all the secrets she was carrying.

“You wish I’d go, don’t you?” she asked.

“Not really.  You’re welcome to stay if you like, but I should probably get back to work.”

“I don’t have anyone to talk to, and I really need a friend.”

“If your mother learns you visited me, where will she take you next to keep you from me?  America?  China?  The North Pole?”

“Nothing about her would surprise me.”  Tears surged into her eyes, which she hated.  She hadn’t intended to be maudlin, but she was so overwrought, and with the babe growing in her belly, her emotions were constantly bubbling over.  “Could I talk to you, Neville?  I need your advice, and I know you’ll be honest and frank.  Please?”

He sighed.  “Poor, poor, Susan.  You’re so sad, and I can’t turn away from a damsel in distress.”  He pushed away from the window and sat with her again.  “What is it?  Tell me all of it.”

With him urging her on, it was simple to spit out the whole sordid tale.  He was very patient, hardly interrupting, hardly asking questions.  He let her drone on and on, and when she finished, the afternoon had waned, and the sun had drifted over to the western sky.

She didn’t have much more time to linger, but she was so glad she’d come.  She felt ten pounds lighter from getting all of it off her chest.

“You’re certain you’re with child?” he inquired.

“I have no doubt.”

“Oh, Susan, aren’t you in a pickle?”

“Yes.”

“Your situation is quite ominous.”

Her tears started to flow—as if a dam had burst.  She couldn’t stop them and didn’t try.  He retrieved a kerchief and dried her cheeks.

“What should I do, Neville?  I can’t imagine confessing it to my mother.  I’m so confused and ashamed.”

He patted her hand.  “It’s all right, and you needn’t fret.”

“It’s all I’ve been doing since I left Egypt.  I’ve been desperate to devise a solution, but I don’t know what it should be.”

“The answer is so simple, Susan.  For a girl who’s as smart as you are, it amazes me that you can be so dense.”

“How is it simple?”

“We’ll elope to Scotland.”

“No, Neville!  It’s not what I require from you.  It’s not why I came.”

“We’ll go tomorrow.  You need a husband, and I’m willing.”

“But…but…I’m not here to pressure you.  I was merely anxious to tell someone who would listen and who wouldn’t judge me.”

“Have you asked me for anything—besides to listen?”

“Well…no.”

“I’m a grown man, Susan, and I can make my own choices.  I wanted you before—when it was easy to want you.  What sort of person would I be if I was only interested when it was easy?  What would it indicate about my character?”

“You are so kind to me, kinder than I deserve.”

“Kind, maybe.  Or maybe I’m just insane.”  He laughed, then sobered.  “I always hoped to marry you, Susan.  I guess I’d still like to.”

“Do you…still love me?”

“I’m not sure.  We’ll have to see.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“I’ll have to ponder that too.”

“I could never wed you if you were angry with me.”

“We’ll work on it.” 

“I don’t know what’s best,” she wailed.

“Think about it over night.  Sleep on it.  If you wish to proceed, send me a note.  We can depart immediately.” 

Could she do it to him?  Could she put him in such a predicament?  Was she that selfish and vain?  She thought she probably was.

After how horrid she’d been, it seemed wrong to let him rescue her.  Then again, if he was willing after what she’d shared, she would have one goal for the rest of her life, and it would be to constantly remind him how grateful she was.

He rose and pulled her to her feet.  “Now then, let’s get you home.  I’ll help you find a cab and I’ll ride with you.”

“You have the money for a cab?”

“Yes.”  He grinned.  “I have a benefactor, remember?  And she’s incredibly generous.”

“I’ll write you in the morning with my decision,” she said.

He placed a palm on her stomach.  “You have a bit of a belly starting to show.  Don’t wait too long.”

She flushed a deep shade of red.  “I will never recover from the humiliation of it.”

“Yes, you will.  It will all be fine.  I’ll make it fine.”

As if they were adolescent sweethearts, he linked their fingers and led her out of the apartment and down the stairs.  She was so undone, her knees kept buckling, but every time she staggered on the steps, he was there to catch her, to steady her.

Perhaps everything would be fine after all.

I
failed you, Harold.”

“You certainly did, Edna.”

Edna stared at her brother, feeling sick at heart over how she’d neglected to bring Theo back with her reputation restored.

They were at Oakwood, locked in Harold’s library, just the two of them conversing privately.  For a few minutes, it had looked as if Harold’s mother-in-law, Isobel Mountbank, might join in, but Edna had refused to parley over family issues in front of a stranger.  Harold might be cozy with her, but Edna wasn’t.

Harold was fifty-five, and the widowed Mrs. Mountbank was thirty-five.  She was very flashy, very pushy, and intent on having her way.  Edna had no doubt that Mrs. Mountbank arranged Harold’s marriage to the ridiculous Penelope who was only sixteen, but now had to be addressed as
Lady
Wood.

Edna had frequently chided Harold about his single status, but he’d claimed he wasn’t ready to wed again.  She’d never imagined she’d come home to such a fiasco.  Penelope was carrying what would hopefully be Harold’s heir, but Mrs. Mountbank was running the house, running the servants, and running Harold.  Her daughter was too flighty to be in charge, and all of it seemed highly irregular to Edna. 

Harold was overly infatuated by his mother-in-law, and Edna declined to ponder what was actually occurring between them.  She was sure it was too unsavory for a Christian woman to contemplate.

“Of all the men in the world, Edna,” Harold complained, “how could you let Soloman Grey within a hundred yards of her?”

“He met her at a native’s bazaar.  I wasn’t with her, and I should have been.  I take full blame for the entire debacle.”

“As well you should.”

“She was smitten before I realized the danger of their acquaintance.  He’s very dashing, very handsome.”

“Like his father.  I’ve always thought the boy took after him exactly.”

“Any female would have been fascinated, and with Theo being Theo, there was no chance of her ignoring his allure.”

“Which is why you should have been more cautious.”

“I know, Harold.  I
know
.  I’ve beaten myself up over it for months.”

“Is she completely ruined?  Is her virginity squandered?”

“I expect so.  I didn’t ask her, but she spent the night with him, and I don’t suppose they were chatting.”

“It doesn’t appear they created a babe though.  Did you discuss the possibility with her?”

“No.  She was so despondent during the voyage to England that I was afraid to mention Mr. Grey.  For a bit of time there, I feared for her sanity.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed.  “Theo is a Postlewaite.  We are tough as nails.  We don’t succumb to melancholia.”

Harold hadn’t been on the ship with them.  He hadn’t seen Theo wasting away, hadn’t seen her walking the deck, looking like a ghost of her former self.  Edna had often spied on her from the shadows, being frantic that she might do something drastic like leap over the rail.  She’d been that forlorn.

“I’ll have Mrs. Mountbank question her about a pregnancy,” Harold said.  “Girls are such silly creatures.  She might be increasing and not recognize the signs.”

“I wouldn’t have Mrs. Mountbank speak to her.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, Harold, let’s not get into it.”

“It’s too late for that.  What are you implying?”

“Just…please…don’t have her talk to Theo about any topic.”  Edna suspected Theo would have the same opinion as Edna about Mrs. Mountbank who—by butting her nose in—would only make matters worse.  “Perhaps her maid could provide the information we seek.”

“Yes, that would probably work.”

Edna flushed, uncomfortable at reviewing bodily conditions with her brother.  She was simply eager to head to London.  She’d confessed her crimes, her lack of supervision, and her lack of influence over Theo.  There wasn’t much left to say.

She was settling in in London, opening up her house, sending out cards so people would know she was back.  Susan was still feeling poorly, and while Edna had brought Fenton with her to the country, Susan had been too ill to accompany them.  Edna needed to return to her.  She had her own daughter who needed parenting, and it was definitely time for Harold to assume responsibility for Theo.  Edna would no longer bother. 

She’d only come to Oakwood because she’d been so irked by Theo traveling alone on the mail coach.  Edna had told her they’d go together, that they’d face her father together, but Theo hadn’t wanted Edna’s support in dealing with Harold. 

The child was such a nuisance!

“What’s to become of her, Harold?” she inquired.

“She shouldn’t be single.”

“No, she shouldn’t be.  It’s courting trouble.”

“Isobel thinks we should marry her off immediately.”

Isobel was Mrs. Mountbank.

“After this disaster, who would have her?”

“Isobel’s brother-in-law, Bernard, might be willing.  He’s older, and it’s clear Theo could use the steadying hand of a mature husband.”

“Have you asked Theo about it?”

“Ask Theo?”  He chuckled meanly.  “Pray tell, why would I ask Theo?”

“She was in love with that bounder, Mr. Grey.  I don’t believe she’ll consent.”

“If I decide it’s the best path for her, she’ll wed Bernard Mountbank, and I’ll hear no grumbling about it.  And if she presumes she can defy me, I’ll tie her up and drag her to the altar.”

“That will certainly make for a happy union.”

“What’s the better option?”  His tone was very snide.  “Shall I permit her to roam about the neighborhood until she lands herself in another jam?”

“No.”

“Maybe I should lock her away in an asylum.  Would that satisfy you?”

“Harold!” she scolded.  “You wouldn’t.  This is Theo were talking about.”

“Yes, this is Theo—who’s always been a pain in my ass.  The past year, she’s been acting like a lunatic.  Why not put her away with her own kind?”

Edna huffed with offense. 

There was nothing wrong with Theo, and Edna wondered about Bernard Mountbank.  Why would Mrs. Mountbank push the match on Harold?  Theo’s dowry was long gone, Harold having gambled it away decades earlier.  Since there was no dowry in the picture, what could possibly entice Mr. Mountbank to have Theo?

The whole arrangement stunk, but she wouldn’t fret over it.

“I won’t continue this discussion when you’re being so horrid,” she told him.

“Fine.  You needn’t tarry.  It’s not as if I invited you to come.”

“I thought I should explain what happened with Theo.”

“I’d already learned most of it from your letters.  There’s no predicting how much effort I’ll have to exert to fix this mess.”

“Yes, Harold, Heaven forbid that you exert any effort on Theo.”  She stood, weary of the entire affair.  “If you need anything further, you know how to contact me.”

“Anything further?  You’re hilarious, Edna.”

“And with all the…ah…changes being implemented here, if you’d like to send Theo to town to stay with me, she’ll be welcome.”

“Send her to stay with you?  Egad, woman!  If you think I’d let her spend one more second in your company, you’re as mad as she is.”

“You don’t have to be rude, Harold.”

“It seems called for, Edna.”

They might have devolved into a full-on quarrel, but they were interrupted by a knock on the library door.  The butler poked his nose in. 

“Beggin’ your pardon, Lord Wood,” the man said, “but we just received a note for Mrs. Wallace from her housekeeper.  The messenger claims it’s urgent.”

“For me?”  Was it Susan?  Had she taken a turn for the worse?

Edna hurried over, grabbed it, then shut the door in his face.  She eased herself down into a chair and flicked open the seal.  A quick perusal of the words nearly had her collapsing onto the floor.

“I can’t believe it,” she muttered.  “I simply cannot believe it!”

“Is it bad news?” Harold asked.

“After I departed this morning, Neville Pinkerton stopped by to speak with Susan.”

“Who is Neville Pinkerton?”

“He’s the artist with whom she’d been flirting before we sailed for Egypt.”

“Oh, no.  Why do I suspect this won’t end well?”

“He and Susan have eloped.”

“They must be headed to Gretna Green.  Will you go after them?”

Edna stared out the window, seeing Theo out in the park, strolling through the grass.  She recollected how her niece had suffered, how she’d mourned the loss of her dear Mr. Grey.  Had it been wrong to sever their connection?  Should Edna have given her some money and left her in Egypt?  What if the pair had worked out their differences?  What if they’d wound up happy and content? 

Wouldn’t that have been better than bringing her back to a life with Penelope and Mrs. Mountbank and an unpalatable marriage to Mrs. Mountbank’s brother-in-law?

Susan had always insisted she wasn’t enamored of Mr. Pinkerton, but Edna had assumed she was lying.  Then, when Susan had seemed to fancy Mr. Price in Egypt, Edna had changed her mind and figured there had been no heightened affection.  When they’d arrived in England, she hadn’t worried about Pinkerton at all.

They’d eloped?  In the short week Edna had been home, they communicated, covertly planned, then run off and wed?  What was Edna to think? 

On returning from India the prior year, she’d been excited to bond with Susan, to do her duty as she’d never been able when they were apart.  But clearly, Susan didn’t want a mother—or a mother’s advice.

Well, good riddance!  Susan could live on
love
as she’d chastised Theo about.  For of a certainty, Edna would never approve of Susan’s choice and would never release her dowry to Mr. Pinkerton.

“No, Harold,” she said, “I’m not going after her.  She’s made her bed, and she can lie in it.”

“That’s a bit drastic, isn’t it?  Would you like
me
to go after her?”

“Let it be, Harold.  May she rue the consequences.”

“This Pinkerton, is he a decent fellow?  Will he be kind to her?  Perhaps it won’t be as awful as you’re imagining.”

“He’s an
artist
, Harold.  Remember?  She can stew in her own juice.”

Edna had been away from England for decades, and during their lengthy separations, she’d pretended she didn’t have any children.  It had been easier that way.  Well, now it could become her reality.  She’d never had a daughter in the past, and she wouldn’t have one in the future.

She’d have only one child.  She’d have a son.  She’d have Fenton to mother, Fenton to raise, Fenton to care for her in her dotage.  A son was what a mother truly needed.  What good was a daughter?

Theo was approaching the
manor when she saw Edna leaving.  Fenton was with her, and he was climbing into the coach.  She didn’t have any desire to converse with them.

She’d spent much of the previous year crammed in small quarters with them, on ships, on riverboats, in camping tents.  Proximity should have fostered fond acquaintance, but unfortunately Theo had no pleasant memories of the trip and didn’t miss them.

On her stumbling across them without warning, her sole regret was that she hadn’t walked in the woods a few minutes longer so she could have avoided an encounter altogether. 

Edna glanced over, so they couldn’t ignore each other.

“Hello, Theo,” Edna said, as Theo neared.  She looked dour as ever.

“Aunt Edna.”  Theo curtly nodded.  “Why are you here?  Let me guess.  You were determined to titter with Lord Wood over my transgressions.  Have you enraged him more than he already was?”

“Don’t be smart, Theodosia.  I simply informed him of what transpired, and I apologized for my failing to watch over you as I ought to have.”

“You didn’t have to watch over me, Edna.  I’m an adult, and you weren’t my nanny.  I made a mistake, and I take full responsibility for it.  My sins aren’t your fault.”

“It’s a charitable thought, Theo, but I remain very sorry.”

“Don’t be.  I truly assumed I was about to marry the man of my dreams.  It was all a fantasy, but for a time, I was deliriously happy, and I’m glad of it.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

Theo sighed.  “Must we quarrel, Edna?  Can’t we move on?”

“Susan has eloped,” Edna announced out of the blue.

Theo shook her head, not certain she’d heard correctly.  “What?”

“She eloped.”

“With Preston Price?  He followed us to England?”

“Don’t be silly.  She’s with Neville Pinkerton.”

“Neville!  She told me she didn’t fancy him at all.”

“Apparently, she fooled us both.”

“When did this happen?”

“The news just arrived from my housekeeper.  She reports that they arranged it in advance.”

“Well, lovers usually plan those things.”

“As soon as I left for Oakwood this morning, Mr. Pinkerton showed up and they sneaked away.”

“Neville Pinkerton,” Theo murmured, not able to believe it.  What could have caused Susan to proceed?  “Will you chase after them?”

“No.  She’s on her own.”  Edna gestured to the manor.  “What’s your opinion of the shenanigans in this asylum of lunatics?”

“My father is deranged.”

“I agree.  Be careful around all of them, especially that Mrs. Mountbank.  I don’t like the looks of her.”