When Angels Fall (38 page)

Lissa closed the door. Frowning, she commented, “Shouldn’t your carriage wait for you?”

“Wilson will take Mother home. Then come back for me.”

“I see. So you’ve been out—”

“Yes, we’ve been out. To have dinner with the marquis. We’ve been to Powerscourt.” Arabella flung her mink-lined cloak across the blue sofa, then she sat on it as if the worn upholstery was not fit to cushion her bottom.

Lissa stared at her, her mind whirling with possibilities. But she couldn’t think of any reason why Arabella had come. Mostly all she could think of was that Arabella had been with Ivan. And she herself hadn’t.

“Have I grown warts, Lissa?” Arabella snapped.

Quickly Lissa looked away. At a loss, she fiddled with the tea set, then put the kettle on the hearth. Arabella waited patiently until she was done.

“Refreshments shall be ready soon,” Lissa said as she sat opposite her. For some terrible reason her hands began shaking and she was forced to clasp them in her lap.

“Lissa, I must be blunt,” Arabella finally began. “I’ve been your friend now for some years, despite . . . well, despite
everything.
And I’ve tried to look out for you—tried to help in any way that I could.”

While Lissa listened to her dread seeped into her
breast. Somehow this had to do with Ivan. Somehow she knew the news would hurt her.

Arabella continued, but this time, her anger seemed to surface. “We were invited to dinner tonight but the marquis—Ivan—was quite preoccupied, quite moody. And do you know why?”

Lissa could barely whisper an answer. “No. Why?”

Arabella paused as if what she had to say was quite painful. But finally she said, “Because there is an ugly rumor that you seduced him the night of the ball and are now trying to entrap him in marriage.”

All at once she felt as if a dagger had just been thrust through her heart. Why on earth would anyone start such a vicious rumor—unless Ivan were the one behind it? Her shock grew worse.

Arabella stood and began pacing the room. “It’s horrible, I know, but I had to tell you. As if you could be capable of that!”

Once again Arabella was being infuriating. Upon that last comment, Lissa wasn’t sure if her friend had just defended her honor or exclaimed at the absurdity of her being able to get Ivan to the altar. Yet at the moment, Lissa didn’t really care.

“Ivan—
Lord
Ivan told you this?” she asked.

Arabella seemed as if she were somehow torn. Finally she answered, “No, Ivan didn’t.” Then too quickly she added, “But from his mood tonight, it was clear something dreadful was on his mind. It had to be the rumors.”

“I see.” Lissa stared at her knuckles, now white from tension. She didn’t know what to think. Had Ivan started those rumors? Everyone knew he was an angry, unforgiving man. He wanted her ruined. This was a brilliant way to do it.

“It’s all a dreadful lie.” Arabella gave her a pointed look. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes! Yes!” she said vehemently. It was a dreadful lie. However the gossip had got started and whether founded
in truth or mere speculation, it was all wrong. Ivan had seduced
her
that night. And she was by no means entrapping him to do anything. On the contrary, all she had asked from him was that he leave her alone.

“Well, what are we going to do about it, then?” Arabella knelt down before her. She took Lissa’s hands in her own and clasped them warmly.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do,” Lissa murmured, unable to think. She was too angry; she was too hurt.

Very quietly Arabella suggested, “You could leave, you know, Lissa. Evvie was married today, wasn’t she?”

Lissa pondered the idea. It was what she had wanted for so long. To simply leave Nodding Knoll and start a life elsewhere, where no one knew anything of her, good or bad.

“Where should I go?” she asked suddenly, as if somehow Arabella could give her direction.

Surprisingly, Arabella could. “Why don’t you go to London? With your education, you could surely obtain some kind of genteel position—governess perhaps or the like.”

“London?” Lissa mused. Perhaps that was the place. London seemed so dreamlike, so far away. And she would be nearer to George. She could look in on him now and again.

“I’ll be happy to give you the loan of our carriage. And some money, if you like.”

Lissa looked up, a furrow marring her brow. “I have money, Arabella,” she said coolly. And she did. Holland had left her some funds for the household. That would certainly be enough.

“But do take the carriage, Lissa. That way you can go tonight if you like. Why wait? What is here for you? What’s ever been here for you, Lissa?”

Nothing!
Lissa practically screamed to herself. It seemed she had shed more tears in the past week than she
had in an entire lifetime, and now she felt as if she could cry buckets all over again.

“I should go to London, shouldn’t I?” Lissa stated quietly. She looked at Arabella. She knew the girl’s motives were not based solely on friendship, but still Arabella’s solution was the best. It was the answer to all her problems. There she might be able to put Ivan out of her mind once and for all. A shiver ran down her spine as she thought of the reverie she’d been having when Arabella had knocked on the door. She had to get away from him. She had to get away from everything. “So I’ll go,” she finished tonelessly.

“I’ll have the coach sent back in an hour to pick you up. Will that be enough time?”

Numbly she nodded. “Thank you, Arabella. I’ll never forget you for this.”

“It’s the least I could do, Lissa.”

Impulsively Lissa gave her a hug. She then murmured as if to herself, “I suppose I should get my things together.”

“It’s best,” Arabella answered in a strangely sad voice.

When Lissa disappeared up the steps, Arabella bit her lower lip, as if in indecision—as if she had just done something wretched and couldn’t quite reconcile it within herself. But then she heard her coach returning and she went to Violet Croft’s door. She told her coachman she would only be a moment, next she looked toward the lights of Powerscourt in the distance. Her eyes filled with hope. Glorious, everlasting hope.

LONDON

Who can find a virtuous woman?

For her price is far above rubies . . .

Proverbs 31:10

Arabella’s coach took Lissa as far as Grenham, where she caught the North-Western Railway to London. Though some cars had rich mahogany wainscoting and ruby-colored plush seats, with her fare, Lissa’s cab sported only cushionless oak benches and whitewashed walls. The train left Grenham at 5:23
A.M.
, so she wasn’t afforded many views of the countryside. However, by midday she was actually enjoying the rush of landscape, whenever she could catch a glimpse between passengers in the crowded car.

She was going to forget Ivan.

She told herself that all during the long coach ride to Grenham. She told herself that now. Of course, she knew it to be a hearty lie, but it was her only solace. Her anger at Ivan increased by the mile. There were moments she felt she wouldn’t be able to contain the rage and pain within her breast; they were too deep even for tears. So she spent the train ride sitting grim and silent, unable to comprehend that Ivan was so cruel as to start those horrid rumors about her seducing him for marriage. Those words were so viciously untrue, the gall choked her whenever she thought about them.

But now, thanks ironically to Arabella, she had saved herself from him, and the thought gave her strength. Perhaps she was saving herself only physically—for her mind was still consumed by dark thoughts of him, and her desire for him still tormented her—but she would never again be at his mercy. In one impulsive act, she had thwarted his plans to ruin her. She was running to London where no one would know or care what was being said about her in tiny Nodding Knoll. And she was running far away from those terrible, desperate passions, those same uncontrolla
ble passions that had brought her own parents to such a tragic end.

Someday the pain in her heart would diminish.

She smiled a grim, bittersweet smile. Another lie, but it was her only hope. Her only reason for going on.

They stopped in Kilburn Wells and, as some of the passengers disembarked, she took the window seat. They were now less than three miles from London and her nerves were wearing thin. She had spent the night sitting in the car and her whole body was stiff and sore. She longed for a bed, but she knew it would take her awhile to find the ladies’ hotel Mrs. Parks had told her about. In her mind, she went through all Mrs. Parks’s instructions. She was to get a hansom and go to the boardinghouse. The next day she was to make several polite inquiries about governessing at the homes for which Mrs. Parks had provided references. Mrs. Parks had been all too kind. Uncharacteristically kind. But Lissa forced herself not to question her fortune. She was offered a grand escape; she could not afford to spurn any help.

The first whistles blew, signaling their approach to Euston Station, and for a moment she felt almost optimistic. She had finally escaped Nodding Knoll.

Euston Station was crowded as their train pulled up to the station building. In nervous anticipation, Lissa gathered her purse and black leather satchel and tied her bonnet. Then she disembarked. She had never seen such a sight. Hundreds of people milled about, either waiting for departure or having just arrived. Women dressed in bombazine hustled along, pulling their children behind them. Men in top hats and checked trousers lounged by the station buildings smoking. Having only known the quiet sameness of a small-town existence, she found the frenzied pace thrilling. Everyone seemed to have something important to do, somewhere important to go. And now she, Lissa Alcester, did too.

When she entered the Graeco-Roman Hall of the sta
tion building, again she was taken aback by the confusion and noise. Somewhere nearby she heard a child crying and a gentleman arguing with a railway clerk. Above her light came from enormous windows set near the coffered ceiling. She looked around for the exit but couldn’t find it.

“Excuse me—” she began, turning to an elderly, pleasant-looking gent, yet before she could utter another word, the gent moved on, ignoring her completely.

She was not used to such rudeness. In Nodding Knoll, people had gossiped about her, but no one except Old Widow Tannahill had ever been so blunt as to refuse to speak to her.

“I say, excuse me,” she next called to a pretty woman who was sauntering by with her entourage of trunk-bearing servants. However, the haughty young miss only raised her eyebrow and moved on, leaving Lissa completely bemused.

“You need something, mum?” A soberly dressed young girl, obviously one of lady’s maidservants, stopped.

“Thank heavens! Yes, could you tell me where I might get a hansom?” In relief, Lissa clutched her purse to her chest.

“Up the stairs, mum. It’s quite simple. The cabbies are parked before the gateway.”

“Oh, thank you ever so much!” Lissa smiled and watched the girl catch up to her mistress. Then she mounted the stairs.

The hansoms were lined up beneath the long portico that led out to Euston Square. However, before she could summon one, she needed to be able to tell the driver where to go, so she unknotted her long silk purse and reached inside it for Mrs. Parks’s directions. As was fashionable, her purse was sewn with steel beads, which jangled while she dug for the paper. She soon discovered she was drawing attention, so she moved out of the path of traffic toward a wall.

A man whom she thought was a cabbie swaggered by.
He was young and seemed rather shabbily dressed for a hansom driver. He leaned against the wall next to her. Frightened, she moved away from the man, but he only began to stare at her quite rudely. She clutched her purse in her hand and was about to move farther away when the man grabbed her purse. She wanted to scream but she was so terrified, her voice caught in her throat. Instinctively she pulled her purse toward her. But to no avail. He was much stronger; in one swift tug he had it. Then the cocky purse-snatcher grinned crookedly, his eyes sweeping appreciatively down her face and figure. “You’re quite a morsel, mum,” he said before he took off down the lane to Euston Square.

She could hardly comprehend what had just happened. Putting a trembling hand to her mouth, she thought of crying out for help, but her voice failed her once more. All around, people bustled past, unaware that her purse had just been stolen. She wanted to cry out for a bobby, but she saw none in sight. She felt she must tell someone of the robbery that had just occurred, but then she thought of the rude gent and the lady she had encountered in the hall. Staring at the hurrying figures before her now, she suddenly wondered if any of them would even pause long enough for her to spill out her tragedy, let alone to help her.

Numbly she moved from the wall and looked around, wild-eyed. She didn’t know what to do. Clutching her satchel to her bosom as if for her life, she took a few steps toward the cabs, but then a voice startled her. She spun to face it.