We began as friends, and I hope we might remain friends.
Sincerely,
Miss Ballard
Gigi gazed at the letter for several long moments. Maybe she could post it first thing in the morning and be done with this situation once and for all. Or she could rip up the letter and face the professor in person. Would it be harder to do so? To see him one more time? To remind herself of what she was losing?
She folded the letter and slipped it into the pocket of her robe. She’d speak to her aunt and then decide. Gigi headed to Aunt Rowena’s room. Thankfully a light spilled under the door, and Gigi hoped that meant her aunt was awake reading. Gigi tapped softly on the door, then turned the doorknob. Entering the room, she found Aunt Rowena propped against her pillow, a notebook in hand.
“You’re still up, dear?” Aunt Rowena said. “I thought everyone had gone to sleep—the best time for me to make my lists without any interruptions.”
Gigi edged farther into the room. “What list are you making now?”
“Oh, it’s the one for our museum trip with the professor.” Aunt Rowena smiled, then her smile dropped. “What’s the matter? And don’t tell me you’re fine; I can see you’re troubled.”
Gigi perched on the edge of the chair nearest her aunt’s bedside table. “I received a letter from the professor today, and I don’t know what to make of it.”
Aunt Rowena’s brows rose. “What does it say?”
Gigi pulled the folded letter from her pocket. “Read it. I don’t mind.”
Her aunt took the letter, opened it, then read the short note. “Ah.”
When she said nothing more, Gigi said, “What do you think it means?”
Lips pursed, Aunt Rowena folded the letter carefully, then handed it back. “I believe it is something to do with the woman he was engaged to. Olivia? Was that her name? Otherwise, what news could affect anything between the two of you?”
Gigi felt like her heart had dropped to her stomach. “That’s my guess as well.”
“I’m sorry, my dear,” Aunt Rowena said. “But if he’s not completely loyal to you by now, it might be just as well.”
Gigi hated her aunt’s conclusion, but she was also right.
Aunt Rowena extended her hand, and Gigi reached out to grasp it. “You are a fine woman, my dear. Be proud of your accomplishments and the way you’ve lived your life. Don’t let another person’s decisions or preferences determine your own worth.”
“Thank you,” Gigi whispered and rose to kiss her aunt’s cheek.
Eventually Gigi would know what the professor needed to speak to her about, and only then could she make her next decision. She returned to her bedroom and ripped up the letter.
ChapteR Twenty
Since both Lillian and Aunt Rowena knew of the professor’s letter, Gigi had told her mother as well. And that was why she was currently sitting on a bench in the park, awaiting his arrival. She’d told her family that this was no ordinary visit, and since it wasn’t likely filled with good news, she didn’t want to go through the farce of everyone greeting him again at the house.
So her family was under strict instructions to tell him where to find her. Aunt Rowena offered to give him a stern talking-to, but Gigi had immediately negated that idea.
The day had been warm, but clouds had raced across the sky about an hour ago and now had taken up residence over London. It was fitting that the temperature should drop, and now she wished she’d brought a jacket or shawl. The cool wind had brought out people with kites to the park. Gigi watched the children run about with their contraptions, calling to each other, laughing in their play.
It all made her feel even more lonely. Her sister would be married soon. Her aunt would return to her home. Her mother would continue in the busyness of her social circles. And Gigi would return to the dressmaker’s shop, day in and day out, surrounded by people yet lonely all the same.
The footsteps that approached every so often invariably passed her by and moved on. She didn’t think the professor would be late, or at least not very late, but as the moments passed, she felt the absence keenly. What if he’d changed his mind? What if he’d been delayed? What if he’d decided to send a note of explanation after all?
Another set of footsteps approached, but Gigi didn’t even look up until someone sat next to her on the bench.
The man wore dark trousers, and she immediately recognized the leather shoes of the professor.
She looked up to see his hazel eyes on her. She felt a physical jolt as their eyes met because there was not the usual warmth in his but a wariness . . . and a regret?
“Your mother told me I would find you here,” he said.
“I hoped you’d remember where the park was.”
“I did.” He gave her a small smile, and he seemed to be studying her face. “Thank you for agreeing to change our meeting time.”
His words felt so formal, stilted, and almost forced. She wanted to turn back the clock to his first visit, when they’d laughed together and couldn’t stop smiling at each other. But this man was somber to say the least.
“You’re welcome,” she said in a quiet voice. “I’ve been worried about you.”
His brows lifted. “You have?”
She looked down at her lap because she could feel the emotion pushing through unbidden. “I hate to think that you are troubled or that you might be in any sort of pain.”
He said nothing for a long moment.
The sounds about the park seemed to fade, and the wind turned even colder. She tried not to shiver, but it was impossible now. The temperature had dropped too much.
“You are cold,” he murmured, and before she could protest, he’d shrugged out of his jacket and set it over her shoulders.
The warmth was immediate. Whether it was from the heavy fabric or the knowledge of who the jacket belonged to, she wasn’t sure. His scent of woodsy soap seemed to surround her like a caress. But it couldn’t last long; that she knew. She’d seen the regret in the professor’s gaze already. This meeting was a goodbye.
“Miss Ballard,” he said, “you’re a remarkable woman.”
He hadn’t called her Gigi, and she knew that was significant. She pulled the jacket closer, for it might be her last chance to breathe in the familiarity of his scent.
“I’m sorry you felt you had to come all this way to . . .” Her voice broke off in a choke. She didn’t want to cry now. He’d come to tell her something, and she should be woman enough to listen without melting into a weeping puddle.
“I’ve brought something for you to read,” he said. “At first, I was stunned when I received this letter. I didn’t believe a word of it. But I realized I was being a hypocrite if I couldn’t allow another person to change his ways . . . or her ways.”
Gigi’s chin lifted at the mention of her. “Is it from Olivia?”
The professor’s brows shot up. “How did you know?”
Gigi’s smile was bitter. “I couldn’t think of anything else that would come between . . . us.”
His gaze fell then, and his eyes slowly closed.
The tears couldn’t be held back any longer, and Gigi fished out a handkerchief from her bag. Ironically, it was the first one he’d given her. Now, she supposed she should give it back.
The professor reached inside his vest pocket and brought out a letter. He handed it over, and Gigi took it. She wanted to rip it up. Stomp on it. Even burn it. Instead, she sniffled and began to read the words.
Dear Clyde,
It has been too long since we spoke those bitter words to each other. I have apologized to you a thousand times in my mind, perhaps more. I could say that I was not myself, but that wouldn’t be true. I was a version of myself that I have since grown to detest. You were right. There was another man, although I could not admit it to you at the time.
We did marry, you see, but now . . . he has left. That is not the worst of it though. He has divorced me, so not only am I an abandoned woman, but I am a fallen woman. The human spirit is surprisingly strong, though, and I have done everything to pull myself back onto my feet. I’ve found a job as a typist. I know you must be laughing by now at a menial job I always snubbed my nose at. Telling you that I wanted to be a society wife like my mother and her mother before her was perhaps the most foolish thing I’ve ever said. Among other things.
Bless you if you’re still reading this missive. I wouldn’t have ever written you if I didn’t regret our canceled engagement. You are a good man, a kind man, and someone I didn’t appreciate when I should have. I let myself be blinded by foolish dreams. The reality is that I’ve never forgotten you or what we shared. You are my best memories, dear Clyde.
If nothing else, I’d love to speak to you and apologize properly. It would give me the much-needed peace I am craving, and I hope it will bring you peace and closure as well.
Lovingly,
Olivia
After reading the letter, Gigi dabbed at the tears on her cheeks. The letter by itself wasn’t as fearsome as she thought it might be. In fact, she was happy Clyde had received the apology he needed. But what had the professor decided to do?
“I met with her last night,” he said in a quiet tone. “She is much changed.”
Gigi held her breath. She couldn’t look at Clyde because she didn’t want to see the light in his eyes as he spoke of Olivia.
“She apologized, quite a bit, in truth,” he said. “And she . . . she wants a reconciliation.”
Now, Gigi looked at the professor. “How can she ask that? After all this time? She’s returning to you after breaking your heart and after the man she chose divorced her.” She hadn’t meant to burst out with her argument, but now there was no taking it back. And she wasn’t done. She handed back the letter. “It’s a pretty apology to be sure, but what about you? Are you supposed to forget all about what she put you through? Not only forgive and forget but take her back? Trust her again?”
His gaze was steady, his jaw set firm, and Gigi had a terrible feeling that he’d already . . . accepted her? Taken her back? Had he loved her so much that he was willing to work through betrayal of the worst kind?
Curse this man and his good nature. Because of it, Gigi was now out in the cold, both literally and figuratively.
But her aunt’s words came back to her mind from the previous night. The letter from Olivia was the ultimate test of where Clyde Haskins’s loyalties lay. And they were certainly not with her.
“Miss Ballard.”
Gigi was furious. He had no right to reduce her to Miss Ballard after all that had happened, after all that they’d shared, including their letters that had grown increasingly more intimate. She was done. She wasn’t going to sit there while he explained away how letting Olivia back into his life would be in any way a good idea.
It was a terrible idea.
But just like the wind now knifing through her clothing and hair, she felt like the professor might as well have just taken out her heart and stomped on it.
She stood abruptly. She shrugged off the jacket and set it on the bench. Then she fled the park and headed toward home.
She thought she heard him calling after her, but it was likely the wind. The wind that now tugged at her clothing and hair so that by the time she reached home, she was a frightful mess.
Her family was waiting in the drawing room, and Irene and Blanche were visiting. Gigi paused there for only a moment to see all eyes turned upon her in anticipation.
Gigi exhaled a slow breath. “He received a letter from her.” She didn’t need to define “he” or “her.” And she knew that Irene and Blanche had been kept up-to-date by Aunt Rowena. “She wants to reconcile, and he’s considering it.” Her voice faltered, and instead of losing her composure—what little she had left—she hurried to the stairs, then headed to her room.
She walked into her room, and with trembling hands, she unfastened her hat, then took out the pins in her hair. Next came her shoes and blouse and skirt. Finally she crawled into bed and hugged a pillow against her chest. She wanted this day to be over with. This week. This month. This entire summer. She wanted to erase Clyde Haskins from her memories and thoughts completely.
Because it hurt so much.
She hadn’t even allowed herself to hope until recently, until he told her he was ready to put the past behind him.
The pain came from knowing that Clyde Haskins was such a good man, an honest man, that he’d take back a woman who’d hurt him so thoroughly. That perhaps he still loved her enough to do that. If it had only been pity, then Clyde Haskins would have chosen Gigi.
But he hadn’t.
The tears came again, hot and fast this time, soaking unheeded into her pillow and hair. She didn’t sob. No, they were silent tears.
Throughout the next couple of hours, different members of her family came into her room. First, her mother, who sat by her bed and stroked her hair, saying nothing.
Then, Aunt Rowena came in with her slower, shuffling step. She pulled a chair close to Gigi’s bed and took her hand.
“I have written the professor several scathing letters,” Aunt Rowena said. “I haven’t decided which to send yet. Maybe all of them.”
Gigi couldn’t help but smile at her aunt’s pronouncement, but then the tears started again. She closed her eyes against the pain, but it did nothing to ease it. The memories were all still there in her mind, vivid and real.
Aunt Rowena patted her hand. “Tomorrow is another day. It will be a better day, I assure you, my dear.”
Because nothing can top the news of today, Gigi thought, but she didn’t say the words aloud. The bitterness would come later, she was sure. Right now, the pain was numbing. She tightened her hand around her aunt’s. Gigi thought of the things she was grateful for and would always be grateful for: Her aunt’s recovering health. Her sister having a man who loved her and would marry her. Her mother’s stalwart determination.
Heartbreaks happened in life. They couldn’t be avoided. But why, oh why, had she allowed herself to fall in love with him?
ChapteR Twenty-OnE
Dear Miss Ballard,
Dear Miss Ballard,
Dear Miss Ballard,
The letters had curled into flames inside the hearth, the words turning black before Gigi could read them, until only the opening line was visible for a half second. Soon that, too, turned to ash.
The professor had written three times.
Gigi had burned each one of his letters. There was nothing to be said. Nothing to be sorry for. He had his love back, and Gigi had to begin anew.
Two weeks had passed since the arrival of the first three letters, and now it appeared they’d all stopped. A relief to be sure, but as Gigi returned home each afternoon from the dressmaker’s, she found herself disappointed to not have anything addressed to her in the post.
It seemed today was another day with no letter.
“You’re back early,” Lillian exclaimed from the drawing room, where she and Aunt Rowena were sorting through a basket of ribbons—most likely something to do with the wedding. Her mother sat close to the hearth’s warmth since it was a blustery day outside.
“Mrs. Stanton is hosting a dinner tonight,” Gigi said, walking into the drawing room, “so we locked up a little early.” She paused when she saw that Irene and Blanche were both visiting.
“Hello, dear,” Blanche said. She was bedecked in a deep-green dress with matching emerald jewelry.
“You are just in time,” Irene added. “Your sister is in dire need of your help.”
Irene and Blanche visited every few days, and Aunt Rowena was always delighted to see them.
Gigi sat in the chair across from Lillian and Aunt Ro
wena. “What have you got there?”
“Well, we’re making a mess of things,” Aunt Rowena said. “I told your sister we should wait until you returned.”
Lillian sighed. “I can’t always depend on Gigi. I’ve got to be able to do some things on my own.” But the smile she gave Gigi told her that they’d been waiting for her.
“We’re picking out the ribbons for wrapping the posies we’ll give to all the wedding guests. But I can’t decide between the lavender and the green.”
“Ah.” Gigi tilted her head as her sister held up both ribbons. “How about both colors?”
“Both?”
Gigi crossed to the women, took the two ribbons from Lillian, and intertwined them around the posy they were using as a sample. She tied a neat bow, then clipped the ends of the ribbon. Holding it up, she smiled. “I like it. What do you think?”
Aunt Rowena clapped. “Perfect! What did I tell you, Lillian?”
Lillian rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
“I’m the one who told Lillian that she needed to wait for Georgina,” Irene said.
“It doesn’t matter who said what,” Blanche cut in.
Their mother said, “I second the vote, if we are voting, that is.”
“All right, all right,” Lillian said, rising and curtsying to Gigi. “You are officially crowned queen of all decorations and fashions.”
“Why thank you.” Gigi laughed. It felt good to laugh, and she needed to do more of it.
The doorbell rang, and everyone in the room stilled.
“Are you expecting someone, Hester?” Aunt Rowena asked their mother.
“Not at all,” she said, a frown marking her brow.
“Perhaps it’s that handsome Bart?” Irene suggested.
They all waited as Mr. Carson took his time walking to the door. When it opened, they listened for the sound of voices.
The person at the door sounded like a young boy . . .
Until Vienna (Romance on the Orient Express) Page 15