Passion and Pride (A Historical Romance) (17 page)

The sons of the nobility responded with laughter and shouts.

“A very fine servant girl you have there, Blake!”

“I would have her polish my silver, as well!”

“Good help is hard to find!”

Evan clenched his fists, but made no move to raise them.

Andrew saw it, though.

“What, brawling in the streets, Brother? Speaking of disgrace and wretched displays! What would Father say? What would your future bride here think?”

Evan gritted his teeth. “Miss Willows and I are… are not…”

“Have you come to London to elope? Or was it simply to – oh, you must hear this!” Andrew cackled to his henchmen. “She will be a published author soon – of bawdy tales, or so Pemberly tells me! The sort of stuff we used to pass around at boarding school for a more
thorough
education!”

“For frigging, you mean!” another man laughed, which sent the group into gales of laughter.

“My sister-in-law, the naughty storyteller!” Andrew howled. “Lady Frigalot!”

“You are one to speak,” Evan snarled, “with your drunkenness and your gambling and your whoring – ”

“At least all of mine is done out in the open, Brother,” Andrew said venomously, “rather than behind a hypocritical veil of virtue. And I don’t intend to marry any of my dalliances
.
”

“What’s this?” Pemberly suddenly shouted from his doorway.

“Pemberly!” Andrew cried out. “Hullo! We who are about to drink salute you!”

The little man stalked down his front steps. “You rotten scoundrels – what the hell are you doing?”

Andrew laughed. “We were coming by to retrieve you for the evening’s entertainment, but it seems we have stumbled upon a bedroom farce already in progress!”

Pemberly strode over and slapped Andrew with the back of his hand.

The entire group gasped. Andrew staggered backwards – more from shock than from the actual blow itself – and was caught by his group, who chattered angrily.

“You insult my guests?!” Pemberly thundered. “In front of my very home?!”

“He’s my brother,” Andrew protested, touching his cheek.

“And she is my writer and guest! And by insulting her, you insult me! Get out of here, you drunken fools!”

Andrew looked at him in shock. “You can’t seriously – ”

“OUT!”

Andrew turned away angrily. “I’ll not forget this, Pemberly!”

“Good! Maybe next time you’ll behave more like a man and less like a cur!”

The foppish young men walked down the street, jeering and catcalling – but at least they moved on.

Pemberly turned back to Marian and took her hand. In his eyes was real concern. “Are you all right?”

She was white as a ghost. Her eyes moved from Evan to Pemberly, and she nodded. “Yes… thank you…”

“I was taking care of that,” Evan said, his voice resentful.

“Really? I kept waiting for you to,” Pemberly snapped.

Evan’s anger switched from Andrew to Pemberly. “I didn’t want to make a scene out here on the street.”

Pemberly looked at him scornfully. “Perhaps you should have.”

Evan wanted to hit the fool for his impertinence, almost as much as he had wanted to strike Andrew – but then he looked at Marian’s face, and his shame overwhelmed all else.

The silence during the carriage ride was deafening.

At least, the outer silence was. In Marian’s mind, a dozen voices spoke – some plaintive, some malicious:

A lady! And just to think, last week she was our servant at Blakewood!

He is a wealthy gentleman who could marry any lady within a hundred miles. You are the daughter of a poor London clerk, and a servant girl to boot. Do you really think that you will become Lady Blake someday, a future baroness?

I am concerned about my daughter’s future.

I am not the firstborn and the heir apparent tupping the help!

Have you come to London to elope?

I don’t intend to marry any of my dalliances.

I suppose the better question is, do you really think he would marry you?

You will take care of my daughter, won’t you?

Miss Willows and I are… are not…

As soon as they got home, Marian began pacing back and forth in the drawing room off the hall. The moonlight coming in through the windows was the only illumination.

Evan watched her for a moment. He hesitated, as though unsure what to do.

“Are you coming to bed?” he finally asked.

She stopped pacing and looked at him. “What am I to you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Her voice bordered on tears. “It is a simple question. What am I to you? Am I your mistress? Am I your plaything? Am I your whore?”

Evan winced at the word. He walked over to her and held her arms. “Stop.”

“What am I to you? Answer me!”

“You are the woman I love.”

He moved to kiss her, but she turned her face aside.

“I am good enough to bed, but not to wed?”

Evan sighed. “My brother was drunk. He meant to hurt me, not you. He was being cruel, vicious – ”

“And truthful.”

She stared into his eyes as she said it.

Evan averted his gaze. “Can we please talk about this in the morning?”

“No, we cannot,” she whispered.

Evan dropped his hands from her arms and walked away angrily, facing the wall.

“Well?” she asked, pleading with him.

He did not speak for a very long time. When he finally did, his voice was strained, and he would not look at her.

“You know I cannot marry you.”

The words broke her heart into pieces.

The tears began to fall down her cheeks. She could not stop them, but she wiped them away as well as she could and choked down her sobs, trying not to make a sound.

When she had finally regained a portion of control over herself, she asked, “What is our future, then? Together, I mean?”

He turned around. She could see that his face was tortured from a great inner pain. That gave her some consolation, at least.

“I love you.”

“Will you marry another woman, though?”

He stood there, not saying anything.

“Will I be just a pleasant memory to you? A summer romance gone by? Or do you plan to keep me as your mistress, so I can watch some other woman bear your children and raise your family instead of me?”

“Stop,” he whispered.

“Why can’t you marry me?” she cried, the tears starting again.

He frowned, as though she had asked why children must grow into adults, or why the night must be so dark.

“I… we come from… very different standings within society…”

“Would I be so very different if I were a countess or a baroness?”

Again he frowned. “Of course you would. Your entire history would have been different, your upbringing, your  – ”

“I would not love you less if you were a servant, or a carpenter, or a clerk.”

He stepped forward and took her hands. “And
I
do not love you any less, either.”

“You just cannot marry me,” she said bitterly.

He did not have a reply for that.

“Why not?” she asked, imploring him with her voice and eyes.

Again, he took a very long time to answer.

“For one, my father would disown me.”

“Money means nothing to me. I want you no matter your circumstances, rich or penniless – ”

“You would ask me to give up everything? So that we and our children could starve in some hovel together?”

“We will not starve! – Pemberly is going to publish my work – ”

“We cannot base a future together on fifteen pounds,” Evan said angrily.

“I will earn more!”

He laughed mirthlessly. “Perhaps – but I would still become a fugitive from society!”

She threw down his hands. “If by ‘society’ you mean those drunken bastards, you would choose them over me?”

“They were
boys
– ” he said with irritation, as though she were being unreasonable.

“Yes, smug, arrogant, entitled ‘boys’ who will grow into smug, arrogant, entitled men, the same ones whose approval you so desperately seek.”

“Watch your tongue,” he snapped.

“Why? Because I am a servant girl and should know my place? Because I should not speak to my ‘betters’ so?”

The anger that bloomed in his face frightened her, but still she pressed onward.

“You do not care who I am, what my heart feels for you… only what house I was born into, and what titles my father holds?”

“You know that I love you!”

She thought for a moment before she answered. “I believe you do. Yes. Just… not enough.”

“It is a very complicated thing – ”

“No, actually… it really is that simple.”

All the voices in her head had grown quiet, leaving only one: her own.

I do not need to be Lady Blake. I am Marian Willows; that is enough.

She turned away from him and headed towards the bedroom, the tears running hot down her cheeks.

Evan did not follow her, but stayed in the drawing room instead.

When she returned to the hallway a few minutes later, he looked up in shock to see her carrying her valise and a small bag.

“Where are you going?!”

“Back to Pemberly’s.”

“At this time of the night?! You can’t – ”

“I can, and I will.”

He walked over to her and grabbed her by the arm. “Marian, stop – be reasonable! You’ve had too much to drink, you’re not thinking clearly – ”

“On the contrary, I am thinking more clearly than I ever have in my entire life.”

“You can’t walk that distance – ”

“I’ll get a hackney to take me.”

“You have no money!”

“You forget, I have fifteen pounds.”

He
had
forgotten that.

“It is too dangerous for a woman alone!”

From her bag she slipped the little lambskin sheath he had given her, with the knife tucked securely inside.

“That is why you gave me this, is it not?”

He seemed at a loss for more excuses. Finally he said, “I forbid it.”

She looked at his arm upon hers, then stared into his eyes. Her cheeks were wet with tears in the moonlight.

“If you truly do love me… if ever you did… then let me go.”

His face was a mask of fear and confusion.

“Please,” she whispered. “Let me go.”

Very slowly, he let his fingers slip from her arm. She opened the door and walked out into the night.

He followed her and watched from the steps as she walked a hundred feet, then hailed a passing carriage for hire. As she stepped inside, she gave him one last look.

And then she was gone.

Evan did not sleep all night.

He paced up and down the rooms, arguing with Marian in his mind, castigating her for her stubbornness and her unwillingness to see reality.

He had never promised her marriage!

Could she not see how unreasonable her position was? How unreasonable
she
was being?

I should never have gotten involved with her in the first place!
Evan thought – and then stopped in his tracks.

No. That was wrong, and he knew it.

The moments he had spent with her had been the happiest in his entire life.

But he had known from the beginning that he could not marry her. She had known it, too, if she would only be honest with herself.

To ask him to throw away everything – to throw away his entire life! –

Dawn still found him an emotional wreck, pacing numbly through the house. Exhausted, he sat down on a sofa.

He wanted to run to Pemberly’s straight away, to take her in his arms and kiss her, and tell her that he only wanted her.

But she had to see that he could not give up his entire world and future for her. It was impossible. She
had
to see that.

But if he went to Pemberly’s now, it would be a sign of weakness. He would look ridiculous.

And a man in his position could not afford to look ridiculous.

So he decided to wait until the appointed time. Three o’clock, when he and Marian were supposed to have returned for lunch.

Though he tried to doze on the sofa, he found it impossible. Her words kept swirling through his head, denying him sleep.

At any moment she will come back,
he found himself thinking.
She will see how foolish she was acting, and return to me, and we will be happy again.

But she did not return.

She wants me to come to her,
he thought.
Fine – but I will not return as a whipped dog. I will go back as a man, with my head held high.

I have done nothing wrong.

I have not broken any promises. I never even made her any promises!

Can she not see how unreasonable she is being?

As the hours wore on, it took all his strength not to rush out of the house and return to Pemberly’s prematurely.

But wait he did.

After all, he had his pride to consider.

A little after noon he went to bathe and shave.

He dressed himself impeccably, then sat and waited, and waited, and waited.

At two-thirty he left the house and found a carriage in the street.

He had it drop him off a block from Pemberly’s. He waited five minutes at the corner.

Finally, at three o’clock, he walked up to his friend’s front door and knocked.

Williams showed him in to the drawing room, and Evan sat in a plush chair. He waited for Pemberly to walk in any second, escorting Marian on his arm. He played out the scene in his mind:

He would stand up.

Her eyes would fill with tears.

Then she would rush into his arms and beg his forgiveness,  tearfully confessing how unreasonable she had been –

So it was quite a shock when Pemberly alone entered the room, dressed in the same robe as the day before, with his hair in disarray, his eyes bloodshot, and a shadow of stubble on his cheek.

“Well, old man, you look a damn sight better than I do, but I would wager I look a damn sight better than you feel,” Pemberly said as he sank into a chair across from Evan. “Drink?”