“I only kept it a secret because I knew you would react like this,” I insisted. “We had a plan.” One Edward had apparently forgotten completely. What was he thinking, appearing in my sitting room without warning?
“A plan?” Mama stepped forward, her voice sharp. “What on earth do you mean?”
I took a steadying breath. I had to manage my emotions, no matter that they threatened to spill out of me like a spring river. “Neither of us knew what had happened all those years ago. We had to know in order to move ahead, and since you were less than forthcoming when I first broached the subject—”
“Is that why you’ve been questioning me?” William asked suddenly. “Why you’ve been sneaking about my study?”
I blinked. “You knew?”
“Of course I knew.” He shook his head. “You’re a terrible liar. I thought you were curious about Papa and this was how you managed with Mr. Hambley courting Mama. I never imagined you hid an engagement.”
Edward had been waiting in stiff silence but could not be put off any longer. “We hadn’t any idea how deep the divide between our families ran,” he said, and I knew he tried to keep the heat from his voice. “The more we learned, the more difficult our path became.”
“Difficult.” Mama gave a strange laugh, high and choked. “You must know it is impossible. Your mother will never allow it, and neither shall I.”
“My mother,” Edward said coolly, “has no say over who I marry.”
“But I have a say over who my daughter marries,” Mama snapped. “And if you think for one moment I’ll allow her to marry into your family—”
“Mama, please,” I begged. “Please, try to see reason. Why can’t we sit and discuss this sensibly?”
“I’m afraid sense was forgotten when you hid such a secret from us.” She breathed heavily, her eyes burning. I had never seen Mama like this. She’d always been calm, collected.
“I am not the only one keeping secrets though,” I said. “I have tried for weeks to understand what happened fifteen years ago, and all I have is more questions. Why can you not simply tell us the truth?”
“Because the truth is complicated,” Mama said. “And I haven’t any idea what sort of lies Mr. Bainbridge”—she spoke his name with derision—“has been telling you about your father.”
“I haven’t told her any lies,” Edward retorted. “I myself know only the barest of details from my mother.”
Mama did not respond, her taut expression refusing to ease. I pressed a shaking hand to my stomach. I could not settle my thoughts; they flitted about like dust motes in the sunlight, unable to be caught.
“I am sorry,” I said again. The word felt as useless as a lace parasol in a downpour, but what else could I say? “I never meant for this to happen. I wanted desperately to tell you. But you were so against their family, so adamant that I should have nothing to do with any of them, let alone Edward—”
“I am your mother.” She spoke fiercely as she stepped toward me. “You cannot keep such things from me.” She shook her head. “This is not like when you were younger, Rebecca. This is no white lie about a broken doll or missing pie.”
I fought my tears, just as I fought the childhood memories that struggled to the surface. In both of those instances—the doll and the pie, which I had certainly broken and eaten respectively—I had lied to Mama. She had known, of course, and had convinced me to tell her the truth. I’d been punished, yes, but I’d also learned that I wanted her to trust me. Trust me to make good decisions, to be honest and sincere.
I had broken that trust.
Mama took one last look at me and swept from the room, her footsteps echoing in the horrible silence she left behind.
William moved to follow her. “Honestly, Rebecca. You’ve always been imprudent, but this is beyond anything.”
Mama’s departure left a crack inside me, and William’s comment only split that crack more.
I clenched my skirts in both hands to keep them from finding something to throw at him. “And that is precisely why I kept it a secret,” I said stubbornly. “I knew you would never understand.”
He shook his head. “Understanding is not the issue here. This is about your decision to withhold news of your engagement for weeks, all the while plying me for information about Papa and Mr. Bainbridge. You manipulated me into thinking you worried for Mama, but you only worried for yourself.”
“That is not true,” I said. “I care for Mama. That is why I kept this from her. I did not want to shock her.”
“You did not wish to shock her.” William gave a humorless laugh. “You certainly failed in that endeavor.” He turned away. “I am going for a ride to clear my head. I suggest, Mr. Bainbridge, that you not be here when I return.” He strode from the room, and as he took his hot anger with him, I was left alone with Edward in the morning room.
I stood there, my chest heaving as if I’d run up a flight of stairs. I’d dreaded for weeks what might happen when I finally told Mama and William the truth.
But this. I could never have anticipated a catastrophe of this magnitude.
“Rebecca.” Edward stepped to my side, hat still in his hands, expression torn.
“What—?” I stopped, trying to force my voice into an even tone. “What on earth were you thinking? How could you not tell me you were coming?”
He tilted his head, and a lock of dark hair fell over one eye. In Brighton, I’d found it maddeningly attractive, but now it was simply maddening. “I am sorry. I swear that I am. But I am tired of the whole affair. I am tired of pretending.” His voice broke.
“What happened, Edward?” I crossed my arms. “What made you come?”
He blew out a breath. “My mother found me out. She discovered me passing your letter to Marjorie, Miss Lane, that is, and confronted the two of us. I was forced to tell her everything, lest she accuse Miss Lane of any impropriety.”
I shook my head. “But why should that keep you from writing and telling me all this? Why did you appear unannounced at the worst possible time?”
Try as I might, I could not keep Nicholas’s stunned face from my mind. How he’d not said a word as he’d left. How he hadn’t looked back. I raised a hand to rub my temples, closing my eyes against the too-bright sun.
“Mother and I fought,” Edward said simply. “Terribly. She demanded I break off our engagement, and I refused. She threatened to never see me again.”
I squinted at him. “What did you say?”
“I said nothing.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “I left. I packed my things and rode directly here, only stopping to sleep. I am finished with waiting for some uncertain time where everything will work out just as we hoped. That will not happen, no matter how we wish it.”
“So you believed rushing in to shock my mother was the best method?” I turned away. This was not at all how I’d imagined our reunion. There was always a great deal less anger in my daydreams and a great deal more smiling.
“Please do not be angry with me,” he pleaded. “They will come around in time, as will my mother. But don’t you see how this will be better for us? No more pretense. No more lies. We can face our challenges together, directly.”
“That might have been best for your mother,” I said sharply. “She cannot see reason. But my family would have if we’d presented it in the right way. If we’d had more time.”
He was silent for a long minute, and when I faced him again, he looked so contrite that my anger faltered. He’d only done what he’d thought he had to. But why could he simply not have talked to me first?
“This is not how we can start a marriage,” I said, my voice hard in my throat. “You cannot decide for the both of us what our course will be. You must talk with me.”
“I know. It was thoughtless of me, and I am sorry.”
“I must handle this.” I smoothed
my skirts to steady myself. “They will calm soon, and then I can speak with them, persuade them to allow you a chance.”
“Of course.”
“I cannot say how long it will take,” I warned. “They are nearly as stubborn as I am.”
Edward stepped to me, taking my hand. “I will stay however long it requires,” he said softly. “I’ll take a room in town.”
His hand was familiar in mine. How many times had he led me through a country dance or tugged me down a dark corridor for a stolen moment together? I stared at his hand, his long fingers enclosing mine.
“We’ll do this together,” he said, running his thumb across the back of my hand. “I promise.”
His confidence, his firm belief that all would be well, made my heartbeat steady for the first time since he had stepped into the room. He raised my hand and kissed it softly. “I missed you, Rebecca.”
I’d missed him as well, truly I had. But my feelings over his unexpected arrival, the confrontation with my family, everything—they clouded my mind. I could not see past the fog that had rolled over my life. But he looked at me expectantly.
“And I missed you,” I whispered. “Now, you had better go. I will write to you once I’ve had a chance to see how things lie with Mama and William.”
I pulled my hand from his, and frustration flickered in his eyes. But I could not worry over that now. I had to manage one problem at a time, and if he was irritated that I was not thrilled to see him, then perhaps he might finally realize how his appearance had rattled the delicate balance of my life.
“All right.” He stepped back. “I will be patient.”
“Thank you.” I clasped my hands.
He gave a low bow and left the morning room with a fleeting smile, which I could not find in me to return.
Only when I heard his footsteps on the stairs outside did I allow myself to collapse in the chair behind me and drop my head into my hands.
Chapter Nineteen
What an utter disaster. This was worse than anything I’d imagined in the past few weeks. Mama had been so angry, so betrayed. William was angry too, but worse was that I’d solidified in his mind that I was foolish and careless.
And Nicholas. The betrayal in his eyes burned through my memory. How could this have happened? I’d told him. I’d told him there could be nothing more than friendship between us. And yet I could not pretend this was his fault. I had been the one to follow him to the meadow all those weeks ago. I had insisted he teach me to shoot. I had encouraged our connection in every way.
I had allowed him to kiss me. I had wanted him to kiss me.
Because I was the most horrible woman alive. Deceiving my family, misleading Nicholas, being unfaithful to Edward. How could it all have gone so wrong? The plan had seemed infallible back in Brighton. Now it had fallen to pieces about me, like the broken shards of glass that littered the ground where we practiced our shooting.
I pressed a hand to my mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. The lump in my throat ached, but I swallowed against it, trying to retain control of whatever I could.
What could I do? How could I even begin to fix this? I could go to Mama, force her to listen to me and forgive me for keeping such a secret from her. But William had been right, that she did not want to see me.
I stood, my legs shaking beneath me. I would stay out of the way while both Mama and William worked through their shock and anger, and then I would try again to explain. They would understand eventually, I told myself. They had to.
Until then, I had to get out of this house.
William was riding, but that did not mean I couldn’t as well. I knew where he liked to go, and I would avoid him, but I could not sit here a second longer.
I strode from the morning room and ran up the grand staircase, ignoring the two maids who dodged out of my way as I reached the corridor. I rang for Fawcett to help me into my habit. If she noticed my raspy voice or shaking hands as she helped me change, she did not mention it.
Fawcett left, and I looked in the mirror. The skin around my eyes was red and puffy. I went to my wash basin and splashed my face with cool water in an attempt to improve my appearance. The attempt failed.
It hardly mattered. In fact, it did not matter one whit what I looked like. I dried my face and hands, then tugged on my gloves and reached for my riding hat. My hat. The one Nicholas had given me.
I spun and strode to the door. I did not need a hat.
As I stepped into the corridor, voices and pounding footsteps sounded from the front of the house. What could possibly be wrong now?
I hurried to the top of the stairs and started down, peering over the banister as I descended. The front door had been flung open, and a group of servants—a broad-shouldered footman, a maid, and the butler—gathered as a carriage stopped just outside. It was William’s carriage, the one that—
The air went cold around me. The one that Juliana used every day to travel to school.
I clattered down the stairs, jumping the last two, and reached the front door just as the footman turned. He carried Juliana in his arms, her face contorted in pain, her hands wrapped tightly over her belly.
“Take her to her rooms,” the butler, Mr. Banfield, directed. “I’ll inform Mr. Rowley immediately.”
I braced myself against the wooden doorframe. “What’s happened?” I demanded. “What is wrong?”
The footman climbed the low stairs leading to the door, and Juliana winced with every step, her eyes closed. She did not seem to be in any state to speak.
“She began having pains an hour ago,” a female voice behind the others said. It was Sophie, Juliana’s friend. She stepped down from the carriage, her face taut as her blonde hair flew about in the wind. “The baby is coming.”
I gaped at her. “But it is too soon.” Juliana’s time was not for a few more weeks.
Sophie only pressed her lips together. I did not know much about childbirth, but I knew that this was not good. Not good at all.
I stepped aside when the footman reached the front door and maneuvered Juliana inside. Her breathing came fast, her shoulders bowed.
“What is all this fuss about?”
Mama’s sharp voice sounded from the stairs. We all turned to her as she descended, and the moment she focused on Juliana in the footman’s arms, she came to a halt and grasped on to the banister.
“Juliana,” she whispered. Then her eyes found mine for the briefest of moments, and an understanding passed between us. Whatever problems we had, nothing was more important than Juliana at this moment.
Mama straightened. “Bring her here,” she commanded. “Sophie, has Dr. Turner been sent for?”
The footman was already crossing the entry, Sophie following right behind. “Yes, I sent him a note from the school,” she said as Mama met them at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes flitting over Juliana’s face.
“William?” I could barely hear Juliana’s voice, but her words sent a sliver right into my core. “Where is William?”
Mama looked to me, a question in a glance.
“Riding,” I managed. “He went for a ride.”
The butler stepped forward. “I’ll send grooms immediately to find him.”
“No.” The word sprang from me. “No, I will find him. I know where he is.” There was only one place he could be.
Mama hesitated, then gave a short nod. “Quickly, Rebecca. Quickly.”
Then she turned and ushered the footman up the stairs, holding Juliana’s hand as they climbed.
I wasted no time. I ran out the open front door and down the low, wide stairs. I snatched up my long habit skirts, anything to help me reach William faster. The lawn seemed to stretch for an eternity, an endless green, until at last I reached the stable doors.
I darted inside and startled a groom mucking one of the stalls
. Stella neighed as I ran to her stall and threw open the door. She skittered back, kicking hay all around. I stopped, chest heaving. I could not startle her so much she would not let me mount.
“Hush, girl,” I whispered. “It is only me.”
Her restless hooves calmed, and she allowed me forward to rub her neck.
“I need you,” I said softly. “Will you help me?”
She nudged me with her nose—an agreement. I led her from the stall so I would have more room to mount.
“Miss Rowley?” Mr. Mullens approached from my left. “Will you be riding? I’d be happy to saddle her.”
“No,” I said, moving to Stella’s side. “There’s no time.”
“No time, miss?”
I barely heard him. I grasped Stella’s mane and threw myself onto her bare back. Mr. Mullens gawked at me as I straightened, but I could not stop to explain.
I kicked Stella’s sides, and she leaped forward. The dirt floor of the stable soon turned to grass beneath us, and I leaned low over Stella’s back as she flew across the lawn, her neck bobbing with the motion of her stride.
I knew William would be at the church ruins to the east of Havenfield. He loved those old stones, though I never quite understood why. The surrounding area was too hilly for any amount of galloping, so I’d always preferred the more level ground near the lake.
But William liked the ruins, the seclusion they offered. He would be there, I was certain.
The ride to the ruins was ten minutes at most, but with every hoofbeat and every heartbeat, it grew harder to control my worry. Juliana had been in such pain. Was that to be expected? I had not been present at either of Rachel’s birthings. But neither had Rachel given birth so early.
I closed my eyes, offering up a prayer. I often teased Mama about attending church, but if ever I needed God’s help, it was now. Please let me find William, I begged. Please let Juliana and the baby be all right.
Because this was all my fault. William should have been at home. He should have been working in his study when Juliana arrived, and he would have taken control of everything immediately. Instead, he was not even aware his wife was in pain and needing him. All because of me—and because of Edward.
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