by Lara Temple
‘What did you do, Olivia?’
She looked out the carriage window, her heart thumping, everything rushing back. Agony, humiliation, fury.
‘I can uncover it for myself, you know,’ he said into the silence and she arched her shoulders back. No doubt he could.
‘I was betrothed.’ Her voice wavered, so she cleared her throat and continued. ‘Three years ago. But I refused to marry him and his family sued me for breach of contract. I settled with them. Bertram’s...my betrothed’s father Sir Ivo is the local squire and Justice of the Peace in Gillingham and after Henry took my side Sir Ivo ensured no one there would seek Henry’s counsel. Henry was already engaged on some briefs in London, but he gradually spent more and more time here. I wanted to recompense Henry for the damage I caused, but he was far too honourable. He said he would have taken more work in London anyway since he enjoyed it a great deal more than what he did in Gillingham, but I think he was placating me. Colin assumed some of Henry’s work in the area and I thought it was not so very bad after all. But then he died.’ Her lungs felt tight, heavy at the top, but she continued. ‘After his death Mr Mercer dealt with the legalities and arrangements in London as a favour to me and he told me everything. But he was not the only one who knew what happened in Henry’s leased house. Sir Ivo heard the gossip from a fellow magistrate in London and spread the news throughout Gillingham.’
‘Were you forced into the betrothal with this... Bertram?’
‘No. I was in love with him.’
The same stillness remained, nothing but the rhythmic motion of his thumb pressing down knuckle by knuckle.
‘Then why did you refuse to marry him? What did he do?’
‘Why presume he did anything? Perhaps I merely fell out of love and decided he did not suit me?’
‘Is that what happened?’
The misery returned, hot and hard, and she pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. She shook her head. The silence stretched and his hands closed softly on her wrists and drew down her hands. His touch was gentle, but he looked as cold as the first day she had met him.
‘What did happen, Olivia?’
‘I discovered he didn’t love me.’
He sat back and nodded, slowly, but his expression didn’t shift.
‘There is more to it than that.’
‘Yes. I think I could have borne that, convinced myself it would come in time, but I heard him...them. We were three best friends—myself, Phoebe and Anne—and we all fell a little in love with Bertram when he returned from London, even Anne though she was already married to a nice young man. I was amazed when Bertram began courting me, but he was so charming he convinced me he truly cared. Then a few days before the wedding I passed the orchard and overhead him and Anne... She was crying. She didn’t want him to marry me. She said that it was already horrid betraying John and that she did not even know if the child she was carrying was his or John’s and now all of us would be miserable. And then he...he assured her they would continue just as before except that now he would have all the funds he needed.’
She steadied her breathing and continued. ‘I needed to think, so for three days I hid and told everyone I was ill. Then I summoned Bertram. I don’t know what I expected. He didn’t show surprise and certainly not remorse. He said I was making a mountain of a molehill and that no one would believe me because he and Anne would deny it and he would put it about I was suffering from female complaints. He even told me tales of what they did to women who suffered from nervous prostration. Then...then he told me not to worry, he was capable of satisfying two women. He even tried to kiss me, but I couldn’t bear it and I told Twitch, my wolfhound, to chase him off. Bertram was furious and later he stormed in with his parents and even my brothers tried to make me explain, but I couldn’t. I just said, no, I had changed my mind.’
‘Why not tell the truth?’
‘Because I knew my brothers would be livid and prove just how wild the Wild Silverdales could be and that could hurt them even more than Bertram. And besides, there was Anne. Do you have any idea what would have happened to her? To the child? Even if everyone believed Bertram, they would still doubt her. It would devastate her life. But that was not the worst of it...’
‘Henry Payton was the worst of it.’
‘Yes. I was so desperate to have someone hear me and foolishly I told him everything. He took my side but could not defend himself to Sir Ivo because I had sworn him to secrecy. I should have tried to help him, but I was already living with Elspeth and then Jack was killed and I kept my head down and tended to my narrow little world. Then Mercer came with news of Henry’s death and I realised none of it would have happened if not for me. So I had Mercer hire a Bow Street Runner and told Elspeth we were coming to London. That is why I am here and that is why I will consider marrying Colin if all else fails.’
Again the future stretched out ahead of her. Long and flat and desolate, like the worst of the moors in winter when they had nothing to offer but muddy patches and faded heather. Soon, all too soon, she would have to abandon her quest because no doubt he was right, she was tilting at windmills.
‘Are you still in love with this... Bertram?’
The question surprised her—of all she revealed, surely that was the least relevant?
‘No, of course not. Looking back, I doubt I knew what that meant. He was so dashing it was fashionable to sigh over him and for the first time in my life I was an object of envy and not merely for my dowry and so I dare say I wanted it to be true. As painful and humiliating as the truth was, I think I am very, very lucky to have escaped him.’
Her fingers played with the rug covering her legs and she wished Lucas would sit by her again as he had on their return from the vicarage. But he remained where he was, his thumb moving from knuckle to knuckle until the carriage slowed to a halt in front of a modest row of houses.
A young maid ushered them through the small house to a parlour in the back and a woman rose at their entry. She was not the elderly woman Olivia expected, but a handsome woman of forty or fifty years, dressed in a modest grey dress, a tiny terrier peeking behind her skirts. Her eyes focused on Lucas and a frown, almost of recognition, played across her pleasant face.
‘You are... Mr Tubbs?’
‘No, Mrs Eldritch. My name is Sinclair and this is Miss Silverdale. We were hoping you might assist us with some enquiries we have about a Mr Henry Payton.’
The effect of his words was alarming. The woman did not completely lose consciousness, but she turned ashen, her hand closing on the back of a winged armchair as she wavered. Lucas hurried forward and took hold of her shoulders, but before he could speak she took a couple of harsh breaths and straightened.
‘Do you have smelling salts, Olivia?’ Lucas asked as he pressed the widow gently on to the armchair and Olivia shook her head.
‘I will fetch the maid.’
‘No, please don’t,’ Mrs Eldritch whispered. ‘Please. It was merely a moment’s weakness.’ The terrier gave an agile leap on to her lap and she gathered it close, her light-blue eyes fixing on Olivia.
‘Olivia? Olivia Silverdale? From Gillingham?’
‘Are we acquainted?’
‘No. I have heard of you, though. From Henry...from Mr Payton. And you...’ She turned to Lucas. ‘I thought there was something familiar. Are you related to Howard Sinclair?’
‘His son. I apologise for the subterfuge in using Mr Tubbs’s name, but we... Never mind, may we sit, Mrs Eldritch?’ Lucas asked and she blinked, pressing her hand to her forehead.
‘I...yes. Do please sit down. Would you care for some refreshment? I haven’t...’
Her voice trailed off and she looked at them again as they sat on a faded brown sofa on the other side of the fireplace. ‘Why are you here?’
Olivia met the widow’s eyes and there was such pain there she could think of nothing to say, her mind
suddenly scrambling away from this confrontation as from a snake. It was Lucas who answered.
‘I think you know why we are here, Mrs Eldritch.’
Olivia only realised Lucas’s ruse when the woman sank her face into her hands, her words muffled.
‘May God forgive me, I know I never shall.’
Olivia must have made a movement because Lucas covered her hand with his. He need not have worried, she was too stunned to speak, but she was glad for the warmth of his hand on hers.
‘Tell us what happened. All of it, from the very beginning.’ His voice was soft, inviting, and the woman gathered the terrier closer, turning her tear-filled eyes on Lucas.
‘It is all my fault. It was never meant to go beyond a...a friendship. Henry... Mr Payton and I knew each other years ago. My husband worked for Lord Buxted in Boston and Henry came on business and... He never said anything, he was far too honourable, but I knew. I saw it in his eyes, and he must have seen it in mine. Then...’ Her eyes focused on Lucas. ‘Then there was that duel. My Septimus and another man, Mr Archer, acted as seconds. I am so dreadfully sorry about your father, Lord Sinclair. He was a most pleasant man, I never understood how...well, that is neither here nor there. After our return to England I did not see Henry until four years ago. He heard of Septimus’s death and my difficulties and came to offer assistance.’
‘And you became friends.’ Lucas supplied and she flushed.
‘That was all it was. At the beginning. We truly did not see anything wrong with it.’ She glanced at Olivia, her mouth twisting. ‘You might ask, if there was nothing wrong with it, why did we meet in secret? But then society has no forgiveness towards friendship between men and women, particularly if the woman is unwed or a widow. But in truth I dare say we were both aware those unspoken feelings were still there despite the passage of years...’ She breathed deeply and ploughed on. ‘When I told him I must leave London to stay with my sister’s family in Ireland he suggested the...change in our relationship. He leased a house and we met when he was in town and then, that day... I came as always, but the next morning... I woke, but he didn’t. Somehow I found myself at my brother-in-law’s vicarage and told him everything. He was naturally furious, but he assured me there would be no talk.’
‘You are not aware of the nature of the arrangements he made?’
‘No, he said he had a parishioner who might know of someone who could help. I do not suppose he will speak to me ever again and, anyway, I depart for Cork soon.’
The little terrier shivered in the woman’s lap, whining a little as it rearranged its front paws. The woman petted it, cooing softly.
‘Perhaps it was a judgement on me—if so, I can never forgive myself. We had become so sanguine about meeting Henry even came here once when I asked him to help me sort through Septimus’s papers and see what should be kept and what discarded. It was the first time he met Galahad.’
Olivia blinked. ‘Galahad?’
Mrs Eldritch patted the terrier. ‘This is Galahad. He took to Henry immediately. It gave me hope that it was not such a terrible thing to be doing. But obviously it was beneath contempt. Do you despise me?’
The words escaped Mrs Eldritch with force, as if pressed out with bellows. Olivia met her gaze, the light-blue eyes of a pretty woman left with very little too early in her life. Olivia searched for some anger or disgust, but found none. Perhaps it would come later, but all she could find was regret for this woman and for Henry.
‘No. I think I am glad he had your friendship. He was a good man.’
She hadn’t meant to make the woman cry. The terrier whimpered and danced on his mistress’s lap, and Olivia went to sit on a narrow chair by the widow. She didn’t know what to say so she clasped the woman’s hand and stroked the terrier until the weeping stopped.
‘I’m so terribly sorry,’ Mrs Eldritch said, drying her eyes and cheeks, and Olivia gave the terrier a final pat and began to rise, but she sank down again, avoiding looking at Lucas.
‘Did Henry ever discuss Howard Sinclair with you?’
Olivia saw Lucas shift in his chair, but the widow shook her head.
‘No, though he knew him through the Buxteds.’
‘You heard of the scandal, though?’ Olivia prompted.
‘Well, naturally I heard the gossip after the duel, though I never quite understood why Septimus and Mr Archer had to leave Boston simply because they acted as seconds. I admit I never thought it of your father, Lord Sinclair, but I was not of his or the Buxteds’ social circle and Septimus himself never shared the details of that day; it was not a topic suitable for...’ She stopped, clearly aware of the irony of her utterance.
‘Never mind, it was merely a thought. Thank you for speaking with us so openly, Mrs Eldritch. Goodbye.’
She rose, but the widow reached out and clasped Olivia’s hand, drawing her back down beside her.
‘He spoke of you often, you know, Miss Silverdale. That is how I knew your name. I felt he loved you and your brothers quite as much as his own children. He was deeply saddened by what happened with your betrothal, but said it was all for the best.’
‘How could it have been?’ Olivia burst out. ‘He would not have had to seek employment outside Gillingham if it were not for my actions.’
Mrs Eldritch flushed. ‘That is not quite correct, Miss Silverdale. I do not wish to evade culpability, nor to spare Henry his share of it. He sought employment in London because of me and when the opportunity arose to take additional cases in London he did so. That decision predated your betrothal. It was quite the opposite—he even delayed taking up that employment because he felt you needed his presence after you ended your betrothal. He told me later how brave he thought you were to assume the burden of guilt. Though he himself felt it was better the world knew that young man for what he was, he felt he was in no position to preach morality. Forgive me, but I envied his affections for all of you. I always wanted children of my own, but God did not bless me. Perhaps if I had had children I would have found it in me never to start down this path. So you see, if anyone bears the burden of guilt for his death it is I. Sometimes I believe his heart would not have given out if it had not such a burden of guilt to bear. I do not ask you to forgive me, but please do not hate Henry for this. I could not forgive myself for that.’
‘I am not here to judge Henry or you, merely to understand. Henry was like a father to me and I will always love him, whatever mistakes he made. If there is anything I can do for you, you can always write to me care of Mr Mercer at Thirty-Two Threadneedle Street.’
* * *
Lucas took her arm and they walked out into the cold.
‘I told the carriage to wait for us further up. It would draw too much attention standing on her doorstep.’
She nodded and tucked her hands deeper into her muff as they walked. The cold air stung her cheeks and when he took her arm, pulling her a little towards him on the narrow pavement, she had to resist the urge to go further, lean utterly into the comfort of his warmth.
The carriage was moving slowly along the edge of the common at the end of the road, but the horses came over at a trot when the driver spotted them. Inside Lucas took a rug and placed it over her legs almost cautiously, as if she was an invalid. Then he turned to look out of the window, his arms crossed over his chest, his mouth a stern line.
‘You were very kind to her,’ he said, breaking the silence.
‘It was not her fault.’
‘Most people would disagree. She would have accepted whatever accusation you chose to level at her.’
She shivered. She wanted to sink into his kindness, his approval. Sink into him. But she couldn’t. She hated that he thought her ruthless, but to have him praise the other side of that coin was unbearable.
‘Don’t make it a virtue in me. Please. I was not being kind. It was all I could do not to throw my arms around her a
nd thank her. A voice inside me kept saying—it is not my fault. You heard what she said. It was not truly my fault he was in London. I need not bear that burden, because she is carrying it. So it isn’t kindness, it is relief. I have not redeemed Henry, but she has redeemed me and it is terrible of me to feel relief, but I cannot help it. I thought I began this to relieve Mary’s pain, but it was mostly to assuage my guilt. Oh, God.’
It struck her then, a wave of such grief, it felt like it would drag her to her knees.
‘Henry doesn’t exist any longer. Jack doesn’t exist any longer. I will never ever hear them again and they will never hear me. They just...aren’t. I can’t bear it.’
His arm was warm and hard around her shoulder as he moved her towards him. She realised she was still shivering. It was a strange shivering, like a wet dog, or jelly—mindless, purposeless shivering. It wasn’t hers, really, this shivering, because her body felt suddenly foreign to her, small and emptied and hollow...
She felt the scrape of her ribbon just under her ear as he pulled it loose. Her hair snagged on her bonnet, but he pulled it free and tucked it behind her ear, his knuckles resting for a moment on the pulse galloping beneath her jawline. Then he spoke her name against her hair, slowly moving his mouth back and forth on the sensitive skin just at the crest of her temple. It was soothing, she recognised that, some little arm inside her reached out like a monkey in a cage, scared but beckoned by a treat. The rest of her stayed in the dark where it was safe.
A terrible fear struck her—she might be disappearing, too, just like them. She had to stop this. Take action. She could not slip back into those years in Guilford. She straightened, dislodging his arm.
‘We still haven’t answered the question regarding his comments about your father—’
‘It ends here, Olivia!’
His voice was reasonable but brutal in its finality and she wanted to raise her hands and stop it before the inevitable happened. She had tried to prepare herself, but to no avail.
‘But surely you can see this doesn’t negate...’