Evie’s cheeks flushed, then paled, then flushed again, as her mother left the room. If not for the hint of stars in her eyes, Katharine would feel nothing but concern. As it was, she regarded James’ young cousin with sympathy, and hoped Evie’s stranger-groom would be as deserving of those stars, as her own husband was.
The thought of James filled her with longing. He was no more fond of separation than she. Katharine comforted herself knowing that before many more minutes passed, and irregardless of the shock it would cause by diverging from the manor’s rigid daily schedule and determined separation of men and women, he would surely find her. Until then…
“I should very much enjoy knowing the pattern used to create this most exquisite design,” Katharine remarked, with an admiring glance at the flowery lace which continued to take shape with each confident movement of the hook amongst the thread.
“I shall be delighted to teach it,” the older woman smiled. A brief gust of air fluttered the curtains, causing her to shiver. She paused in her work, and looked from one side of the couch on which she sat, to the other. “Wherever did my wrap get off to, this time?”
“I believe the last I saw of it, was in the garden,” Helen recalled.
“Yes… I do believe you are correct,” the older woman decided. “It must have slipped from my shoulders, perhaps when we sat.”
“I shall fetch it for you, if you like,” Helen offered.
“I would indeed,” the elder Lady Bannerman replied.
With a nod of acknowledgement, Helen left for the garden.
Katharine once again wondered at the relationship. Unless she cared to ask outright, it was all she could do, as no explanation was offered. The elder Lady Bannerman seemed fond of her, and Helen was never far from her side. Unless, she was engaged in retrieving something, such as a lost wrap. Yet though she did not appear to be a servant, neither was she regarded as family or guest, on the part of Lady Frances.
“Unless you have the eyes of an eagle, I dare say you best sit beside me,” Lady Bannerman suggested. “You will otherwise find it difficult indeed, to follow along.”
“Yes, of course,” Katharine replied, and rose from her chair.
“Do fetch the knitting bag, while you are about it,” the older woman motioned vaguely, her hook never ceasing in its work. “I’ve thread enough. You would just as well try the pattern yourself, if you are to have any hope of remembering it.”
“That’s a lovely idea,” Katharine said, but try as she might, she spied nothing resembling a bag of any kind.
“I fear I do not see it, Grandmother,” Evie informed her, as she came to Katharine’s aid.
Lady Bannerman ceased her crocheting, and narrowed her gaze as she searched the general area in which the girls now stood.
“Nor do I. There’s nothing for it, but to wait for—”
“Helen!” a young man exclaimed, his voice carrying easily through the open windows, and into the sitting room.
Katharine and Evie turned to look down, and saw the young woman hesitate briefly, before hurrying her step.
“Helen!” the young man called desperately, his footsteps pounding, as he caught up with her in the sheltered alcove in which Katharine and Evie so recently sat. Hidden though it was from any who should pass by, the wall of roses only served to frame the view which the girls now stood watching in concern.
The young man caught the young woman by the arm, and spun her around.
“Helen! I hardly dared hope!” he breathed, and though Katharine could not see his face, there was no mistaking the joy in his voice. “You are here, and alive, and if I am dreaming, let me never awake.”
The young man hugged her close, but the young woman pushed him back. Her eyes were filled with dismay, and her voice caught in her throat.
“No, you mustn’t!” she declared, bracing her hands against his chest to enforce the distance between them. The young man faltered uncertainly, as he stared back at her.
“Helen… why ever would you think so? Surely, it cannot be that you have forgotten,” he said in disbelief.
“I have not,” she answered with difficulty, as she dropped her gaze.
“Then do not tell me, that you are now attached to another,” he said in alarm, gripping her arms as though afraid she would be snatched away.
“No, Douglas. But you yourself, are,” she reminded him.
Evie’s breath caught, and Katharine’s stomach knotted, as cold, sickly understanding dawned.
“To you,” Douglas declared firmly. “It is to you I am attached, and have always been. The years between, and the anguish of believing I should never see you again, have served only to deepen my longing for you.”
“Yet you are pledged to marry another,” Helen reminded him almost pleadingly. She turned as if to leave, and he spun, blocking her path. There was now no question that this Douglas was the same man whose photo resided in Evie’s locket.
“Only at the insistence of my father, and having believed you to be lost to me, forever. Where have you been, Helen? I was told you succumbed during the outbreak in India, along with your entire family.”
“My family, yes,” Helen answered somberly. “I alone, remained.”
“Why did I not know of this?” Douglas’ eyebrows knit.
“That I cannot answer, as I do not know myself,” Helen replied carefully.
“Why then, did you leave me without word? Is it possible you did not realize the torment I was in, or how eagerly I would have come to you, had I but known?” he questioned with a frown.
“Indeed, word was sent as soon as I was able,” Helen answered. “But I was no longer the young woman of fine standing, once promised to you. I wrote, but not to lay claim to a promise made under more favorable circumstances. When I received no response, I cannot say I was surprised. I bore your parents no ill will.”
“Then you are alone in that, for I never knew of it,” Douglas’ eyes flashed momentarily, then his anger was replaced with resolve. “But now, it matters not. Fate has shown us favor, after all. We have found one another, and I will not lose you, again.”
“Douglas, no,” Helen protested in anguish, as he pulled her close, and kissed her. “You forget yourself, and that you are engaged to another! Your fiancé waits within, eager to make your acquaintance, and understandably so, having received such letters as those which were written by you.”
There was the faintest hint of reproach in her voice, at that.
“I wrote no such letters,” Douglas declared. “I wrote no letters, at all. I could not be so false, though your memory was all I had of which to be true. It was Daniel who so obliged, and satisfied our father’s insistence, thus sparing me the trouble of masking my true feelings. I care nothing for this girl, that you must believe. It is my parents’ wishes that bring me here, not my own. This farce of a marriage is a business merger, so far as they are concerned. She means nothing whatsoever to me, or to them.”
Helen’s eyes darkened.
“The Bannermans provided a home, and a family of sorts, when I had none,” she replied. “If not for my position as companion to Lady Bannerman, I would be destitute. They have been good to me, and Evie much like a sister. I could never repay them with scandal, embarrassment, and grief.”
Douglas searched her face for several long seconds.
“Can it be possible then, your feelings for me have grown cold, after all?” he asked quietly.
Helen’s eyes filled with tears, and she glanced away.
“If it were so, my heart would not ache unbearably, every moment since last we parted.”
“The remedy is easy enough then, for us both,” Douglas declared.
“At what expense?” Helen countered. “I cannot treat with such disregard, those whom I have grown to love.”
“And what of myself?” Douglas fired back. “Scandal and embarrassment would be far preferable to the misery you seem determined to impose upon me! What of Miss Bannerman, for whom you appear more con
cerned, than I? Do you truly think it preferable that she be bound for life to a man who cannot bear the very sight of her, for what she has cost him? I fear it is so, but you needn’t concern yourself on that count. Under no circumstances shall I marry another, not when my heart is irrevocably bound to yours. If it is embarrassment to your employer which you seek to avoid, then consider it out of your hands. It shall be so, regardless!”
“Douglas, no!” Helen pled. “I have struggled time out of mind, ever since word came of your engagement. I can see no good that will come of such an action!”
“Us, Helen!” Douglas said sharply. “There is nothing of greater importance to me, than this!”
“No,” Helen declared in frustration. “To go against your father, would be disastrous. You would be disowned, for certain, as thanks for the shame brought upon your family. Neither can you think that I would be allowed to remain in my position as companion to Lady Bannerman, after serving as the catalyst which robbed their daughter of her much anticipated future. We should both be on the street, having left a trail of misery in our wake.”
“I am not entirely without means,” Douglas snapped. “I have not spent my time in idleness, during the years in which we were apart. I will see to it that you want for nothing, yet it matters not to me whether my life is spent in a hovel, or grand manor, so long as it is spent with you.”
“I shall not build my happiness on the pain of another,” Helen said doggedly.
“What of my pain, Helen? Do you love me so little?” Douglas demanded. “If only you knew the grief I’ve born, these years past. If only you knew of my unspeakable joy upon finding you! If only you knew the despair that grips me now, as you seem determined to dash my hope and my joy to pieces! Never would I believe it possible to feel greater loss than when I thought you were taken from me. Never would I believe you would choose a life apart, and to insist I marry, all for the sake of saving the pride of another! Or is it your own? Is it possible you believe I knew of your plight, and that I chose to abandon our betrothal, due to your change in fortune? I assure you, I did not! It is my father who cares about such things, not I!”
Helen’s eyes shadowed.
“You do not know what it is to look poverty in the face,” she said.
“And you never shall again, if only you will come to your senses!” Douglas snapped.
“It is you that must come to yours,” Helen said with an air of finality. “You are a man of character, this I know. I trust in time, you shall remember your responsibility to your family’s name, and the title that will one day be yours. You shall be thankful I had the strength for both of us, when you did not.”
“Then you do not know me, and never did,” Douglas replied shortly. “I begin to think that neither did I know you. Perhaps I shall thank you someday, for sparing me a life with one who cares nothing for me. The same life you wish to impose upon this girl, who is like a sister to you. If not for her, would you choose differently?”
Helen’s gaze faltered.
“It matters not,” she said with difficulty.
There was disillusionment in Douglas’ eyes as he released his hold on her, and stepped back.
“It matters very much to me,” he said bitterly. “I was a fool to grieve you. Perhaps you will be so kind as to stay out of my sight, in future. I do not care ever again to be reminded of the heartless creature whom I once loved with all my soul.”
As Douglas turned away, desperation filled Helen’s eyes, and she clutched his arm.
“No, Douglas! Please, try to understand,” she pleaded, but his gaze was scorching, as he looked back at her.
“Do you love me, Helen?” he demanded.
She blinked away tears, and her breath caught in her throat.
“It is love that drives me to sacrifice,” she said beseechingly.
Douglas shook his head in disgust, as he tore his arm away.
“Then I understand perfectly,” he replied icily. With one last withering glance, he turned, and walked away. As his rapid footsteps faded into the distance, Helen sank to the ground, her shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs.
Katharine glanced at Evie. Her face was ashen, and her hand trembled as she brushed aside the curl stirred by the once refreshing breeze.
“Please excuse me,” she whispered, and fled from the room.
I stood there in the drawing room, my hands gripping Miles’ sweater, and my heart aching, over the long-ago drama I witnessed.
“What on earth are we supposed to do with this?” I exclaimed.
“With what?” Miles questioned.
I groaned, and resigned myself to repeating every painful moment.
Miles listened intently, as I talked. After I finished, we were both silent, as we mulled it over.
“It was awful,” I finally said.
“I feel sick just hearing about it,” Miles replied. He sounded shaken.
“It was awful,” I said again. “Evie was completely crushed. To believe he loved her, and then to hear all that. She’s really sweet, and kind of fragile. She didn’t deserve to have her dreams destroyed like that, and then to have to marry him anyway, knowing how he felt about her.”
I scowled at the thought. Miles’ eyebrows knit.
“Evie was innocent in this, and you’re right, she didn’t deserve it. I can only imagine how devastating that was. But can you blame him, for feeling the way he did?”
I frowned.
“Well—he didn’t have to be so mean about it! And to Helen, too. She was in a difficult situation, and doing what she thought was right.”
Miles held me back. He looked at me as though he never saw me before, and wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at.
“You’re… defending her?”
I frowned back.
“Well—you’re defending him,” I countered.
Miles stared at me for a moment, then closed his eyes, and rubbed his forehead. He looked like he might be counting to twenty. Or a hundred.
“What?” I snapped.
Miles opened his eyes again, and looked back at me.
“Imagine if you—no. No, imagine if I didn’t return to you at the first possible moment, after being released from the hospital.”
He let that sink in. I grimaced, and he continued.
“Imagine you saw me on campus, or in town, and you realized it was me. How would you feel?”
“You know how I’d feel,” I said rather irritably.
“Do I?” he raised an eyebrow. “I thought I did. Now I’m not sure. How would you feel?”
“Overjoyed,” I rolled my eyes. “I’d bawl for an hour, and squeeze you until you complained.”
“I don’t recall complaining,” he replied, and there was a hint of laughter in his eyes. “I was only making a comment. And initially, yes, that was your reaction. But Anika, what if instead of being the willing recipient of your affection, and more tears than I would’ve believed it possible for one person to manufacture… Imagine if I stopped you, held you back, acknowledged that I left you to believe I was dead, then refused to renew a relationship with you, and instead, insisted you pursue one with a certain landscape architect, who shall remain unnamed?”
“You would’ve ended up with more than cracked ribs that day,” I scowled.
“I don’t doubt it. I suspect I would’ve ended up back in the hospital, and I’d deserve it, for breaking your heart a second time, and willfully. But that isn’t what happened, don’t forget that. I did come back to you. I risked heartbreak, fearing very much that you moved on as I tried so hard to convince you to do. If you had… I would’ve done just about anything, to get you back. Only if you were already married to someone else, would I accept defeat. If you were there in 1870, engaged to my brother, I wouldn’t kill him. But if I had to, I might maim! I love you, and I would fight for you. I wouldn’t care what anyone else thought of me, or how it would look to others. All that would matter, is that I love you, and you love me, and your heart, and your hap
piness, mean more to me than anyone else’s. If you were in Helen’s place, and did what she did… I would be utterly devastated. I doubt I would’ve been any kinder. Douglas’ words were those of one mortally wounded, and by the woman he was engaged to marry, up until she chose to end the relationship by allowing him to believe she was dead. As far as I’m concerned, he showed amazing restraint.”
I hugged Miles tightly.
“Well what in the world was the matter with that woman!” I exclaimed. “How could she do that to him?”
“I don’t know. But losing her family had to be completely devastating. Losing her way of life, and her status, also. It would appear she felt she had nothing left to offer. Douglas’ parents seemed to agree, and kept her sole attempt at communication, from him. Had the Bannermans not intervened, she very well could have starved, or worse.”
“She had to be traumatized after all her losses,” I said, and I felt a little less aggravated at her. “She must have developed a protective shell, and… things were different back then. Maybe trying to contact him at all was considered improper, as ridiculous as things were, with that stupid class system. She must have felt she had no choice, and resigned herself to it. But why not try contacting him again, once she was living with the Bannermans? I’ll bet Evie’s grandmother would’ve helped, if she knew.”
“Helen most likely felt imprisoned by her circumstances,” Miles said. “Abductees, particularly those who are under the control of their abductor for an extended length of time, often don’t trust the opportunity to escape when one presents itself.”
“They’re afraid it will fail, and they’ll be even worse off,” I remembered. The closer we came to having the Bannerman Foundation’s missing person division up and running, the more educated we were on the subject. “She did seem really afraid of the consequences, for everyone, should Douglas not go through with marrying Evie. I would never feel that way, just so you know. Even if I thought it would cause plague, devastation, and ruin. I don’t have that much character.”
Ashes of Roses Page 26