Darby no longer feared he would succumb to the widow’s machinations, not after the conversation they had when she became convinced he loved her. To be truthful, Lenora did not appear to exert herself in that manner to him either; her flirtations seemed confined to Alex now, which was bad enough in its own way. But it galled to see the three of them talking night after night of the school and the children as if it were all a great game instead of an experiment, when it was she who had fought to give Simon the right to start the entire venture.
And had they forgotten the experiment was supposed to end when her angel left? For days, Alex had not mentioned putting the children back to work. Perhaps he had changed his mind and wanted the school to continue. If so, who would run it? Lenora? Alex? If she did not feel so badly, so left out of things, she would have laughed at the idea of either one of them heading it.
Were it not for Claude Heathershaw’s fawning attentions to herself, she would feel no one loved her anymore.
Sitting in the hard chair beneath an uncaring moon, her eyes and mind cleansed by a bath of tears, Darby heard her thoughts with clarity for the first time in a week. And then she did laugh. She was reacting like a spoiled child. She had allowed her mind to become ensnared in pettiness when all the time it was a deeper cut that threatened her well-being. The school had diverted her from thinking about it for awhile, that was all; but she could push it aside no longer.
Simon was leaving soon. Her amusement crumbled.
What would she do when he left? How could she live without her angel’s physical presence? It did little good to imagine him watching over her invisibly; she wanted to see his expressive eyes when they spoke together; to feel his hand touch her lips, soft as an angel’s feather.
Before a fresh squall of tears consumed her, she returned inside and locked the door. Half-blinded by watery eyes, she picked her way up the stairs. As she started to enter her room, a sudden noise made her pause. Another door was opening down the hall—Lenora’s. Claude exited in his nightshirt and robe, followed by a gesticulating Lenora in a nightgown that little disguised the ripe body beneath it.
Hearing Darby’s gasp of shock, both of them stood motionless, returning stare for stare with Darby. She was the first to move. Feeling oddly unreal, she shook her head angrily and rushed inside her room.
Seconds after closing the door, Darby heard light footsteps racing down the hall, then a scratching on the wood. With her back pressed against the door, she whispered furiously, “Go away! I don’t want to speak with either one of you!”
The scratching persisted. Afraid above all things that they would awaken her brother, she jerked the door open a crack. Instantly, Lenora positioned her face within inches of Darby’s, and Claude’s loomed above.
“Please let me in,” Lenora begged. “I can explain.”
“No, you can’t,” Claude whispered sternly. “Allow me a moment, Darby, and I will explain.”
While Lenora glared over her shoulder at Claude, Darby said bitterly, “There is nothing either one of you can say. Go away and leave me alone.”
“You won’t tell Alexander, will you?” Lenora beseeched desperately. “At least not until you let me talk with you.”
Darby moved to close the door. “I make no such promises. Now do you leave, Lenora; surely you must be cold. You don’t want to catch something.”
Claude, a look of humorous appeal crossing his face, clutched the door and prevented Darby’s shutting it. “Lenora and I were merely talking over old times. She was showing me a miniature she had made of Reece. Weren’t you, Lenora?”
Darby leaned all her weight against the wood. “You must think I am a gudgeon.”
“No, we don’t,” Claude said breathlessly, pushing against Darby’s resistance. “It’s you I love, Darby. Truly. Don’t you remember the poem I wrote?”
“If you don’t release this door,” Darby gasped, “I— will—scream.”
A grim, hopeless look came into Lenora’s eyes. “Come, Claude,” she said. “Let her be.”
Claude exchanged an unreadable glance with Lenora, then shifted his gaze to Darby. After studying her face, he gave a defeated shrug and whipped his hands from the wood. The door slammed. Darby locked it, then leaned against it panting, feeling relief to hear the sounds of footsteps retreating.
She lifted her chin and stared at the ceiling. She cared not a whit about Claude’s perfidies; she had never taken his overtures seriously anyway. But she had been breaths away from accepting what she believed was a new Lenora. Now her heart ached for what she must reveal to her brother. Were all of them—Alex, Edward, Evelyn and herself—doomed to hopeless loves?
What should she do? Even though she halfway regarded him now as a traitor, she thought, Simon will know. With only a passing notion of how it would look if she were seen by anyone, Darby opened her door, saw the hall was unpopulated, and slipped around the corner to Simon’s room.
She had learned he was a sound sleeper on her last visit to his chamber; therefore, she was not surprised when he failed to answer her knock. After waiting only the smallest amount of time, she opened the door and was jolted to see him not in bed as she expected, but seated in a chair facing the window.
At her entry he whirled around, his bedside candle dancing light and shadow across his features. Seeing her, he stepped backward, shrouding himself in the fainter illumination of the window. But it was too late; she had already noted the savaged eyes and the lost expression on his face. Oh, he might murmur her name, then busy himself tying the sash of his robe and raking his fingers through hair already growing shaggy, but he could not mask his sorrow. What troubled him so deeply? Could it be the same grief that pierced her heart? But that would be hoping for more than an angel could give.
“Simon?” she ventured, hating the yearning tone she heard in her voice, but it could not be helped; for the moment she did not even recall why she came. “What is wrong?”
He made no reply, only looked away from her.
She circled the bed and walked closely enough to feel his breaths upon her skin. Lifting trembling fingers toward him, she stroked the wetness from beneath his left eye. As she reached toward his other cheek, he clasped her wrist.
“Don’t,” he whispered.
She lowered her hand, her gaze fastened to his. “Why do you weep, Simon?”
He did not answer for a long time.
“Do you believe in God?” he queried finally.
She was astonished. “You ask me that with yourself standing there?”
“No, no. Pretend you never met me. Did you always believe in God?”
“Of course.” Her reply sounded impatient, but she felt impatient at such a foolish question. Seeing the haunted look in his eyes, though, she searched for a more meaningful answer. “How else to explain the wonders of this world? Surely such a beautiful Creation could not happen by accident.”
“But what about the ugly things? The disasters, the murders, the endless suffering of the innocent?”
“I have heard it said that man brings evil upon himself,” she replied, bewildered. “Why do you ask these questions? Are you testing me, Simon?”
“Maybe I’m testing myself. If man does cause evil, why does God permit it?”
She thought carefully. “Mr. Gravitt says that no earthly Father would lock his offspring in a cell simply to keep him from harm, no matter how concerned he is for his safety, for the child would never grow up and learn to make his own decisions or experience life. Therefore, God allows mankind freedom with both its pleasures and its consequences.”
Simon looked down. “Consequences. Better to call it torture. And do you know what torture is, Darby? It’s being able to see or imagine how your life could be, had you made the right choices. I want so much, but there are things I can’t have. I reach my hand out to grab what I need”—he gestured in the air, pantomiming—”and when I open my fingers, nothing’s there.”
She stared at his hand as if mesmerized. “Wh
at is it that you need, Simon?”
His gaze drifted back to hers, looking so sad and full of longing that she felt tears spring to her own eyes. Then, with a deliberation that made her ache, he leaned toward her.
She now had no doubt what it was Simon thought he needed. Blood pounded in her ears. Her angel was going to kiss her, and she was not going to stop him. Was there no end to her wickedness? Was there no end to his?
But when his lips were within inches of hers, he froze, straightened, and stepped sideways, clearing his throat. “Why did you come here?” he asked politely, eyes averted.
The mood was broken. She did not know whether to applaud or scream. It had been a narrow escape. Why, then, did her heart pound with regret?
Suddenly recalling the events prior to her entering this room, she said, “Oh. I have just seen Claude leaving Lenora’s bedchamber.”
His attention sharpened. “Did you?”
“Yes, and they were both dressed in their night raiment.”
He hesitated. “Well, Darby, the same could be said for you and me, and nothing indiscreet is happening between us. Don’t go accusing people of things when you don’t have all the facts.”
Her disappointment grew warm. “You say that only because you don’t want anything interfering with your plans.” She tightened her lips. “And I’m not so certain nothing indiscreet happened between us.”
“I never laid a hand on you!”
“Oh, I know that; I know it very well. But something almost did happen here, and you cannot deny it.” She blushed at the sound of her own admission.
“Almost is not the same as did, Darby, and you have to grant Lenora the benefit of doubt. Don’t be so holier-than-thou. It drives me crazy when you do that.”
“Alas, does it? Would you care to know what drives me mad? Your noble understanding of everything pertaining to Lenora, no matter what she does!’’ She began to pace, gesticulating extravagantly. “I know why you do it. Above everything else, Lenora must marry Alex! It doesn’t matter to you if she possesses the desires of a Cyprian—only let Simon’s mission be accomplished! And now, I suppose, the school is added to your list of reasons to canonize Lenora. Well, it will never do. My brother is more important to me than that, and I will never allow him to be misled into lifelong unhappiness.”
“I don’t expect you to,” he said, suddenly placating. “If I find she is—is like you say, then I won’t ...”
“Yes?” She folded her arms. “You won’t ...?”
A light knocking could be heard at the door. Looking vastly relieved, he moved toward it. “Someone’s knocking.”
“So it seems,” she said scornfully.
His steps halted. “Don’t you think you should hide?”
Darby’s eyes rounded. “Oh!” She glanced around the chamber for a suitable place, then dashed into his dressing room and pulled the door closed to a sliver.
When Simon opened his chamber door, Darby was dismayed to see Lenora edge into the room and look past him inquiringly. “Where’s Darby?” she asked. “I know she must be here.”
To Darby’s intense irritation, Simon said nothing. Why did he not push the merry widow back into the corridor? Darby would have done as much for him. But he simply stood there like a great lump, and now Lenora was staring at the closet door and beginning to smile. And then, with the relentlessness of a figure from a nightmare, she drew near.
“Thank God I found you. I tried your room again, and when I couldn’t get an answer I decided to look downstairs. On the way I heard voices and guessed you might be with Simon.”
“I don’t know why you’d think that,” said Darby, frowning at how ridiculous her defense sounded since she was indeed here. Grumpily she emerged from the dressing room and leaned against the rail at the foot of the bed.
“Well, I certainly didn’t believe you’d be guilty of what you thought Claude and I were doing, even if you were hiding in Simon’s dressing room. I know you too well for that, Darby.”
“I don’t understand what you mean by that, either,” returned Darby, who could not be pleased by anything Lenora said.
Simon pulled his chair near the bed and gestured toward it. As Lenora sat, he commented, “Darby told me you had a visitor tonight.”
“I thought she would. That’s why I’m glad I found the two of you together. I realize what you saw looked compromising, Darby, but I assure you nothing happened between Claude and me.”
“See?” Simon said, childlike in his eagerness. “I told you nothing happened.”
Darby grunted her disbelief.
“Well, the two of you are in exactly the same circumstances, and I haven’t accused you of anything,” Lenora reminded her.
“Yes, but as you said, that is because you know me,” Darby replied. “The reason I believe something happened in your bedroom is because I know you.”
“Well, thank you very much,” Lenora said coldly.
“Ladies ...” Both of them looked at Simon, who stretched his hands entreatingly and smiled. When he seemed unable to think of anything further to say, the women returned their hostile gazes to one another.
“You will understand better when I explain,” Lenora began. “Claude was a good friend to both my husband and me, as you know—”
“I’m certain Reece rests happy knowing your friendship continues,” interjected Darby, her words sizzling like drops of acid.
“I will admit Claude and I had a liaison,” Lenora went on, obviously struggling to keep her temper. “But not since my husband died.”
Darby rose, towering over her adversary. “You are a terrible woman, Lenora. Do you expect us to believe that you acted dishonorably during your marriage, but now—now that you’re unfettered, you’ve developed a conscience?”
Lenora eased out of the chair and straightened to her full height. “Reece had his liaisons, and I had mine. As long as we were discreet about it, neither of us minded what the other did. It was unconventional, I realize, but our relationship was strained.”
“Unconventional is not the word I’d choose,” Darby said.
Lenora fingered the fringe that hung from the sash of her robe. “I did not wander as my husband did. Besides Claude, there were only one or two others, briefly. Claude lasted longer because of proximity—he traveled with us much of the time—and because I imagined he was ... amusing.” Her face darkened. “He pressures me to resume our former status, but I will not.”
“And if you believe that,” Darby said, “you will believe anything.”
“It is the truth!” Lenora cried.
Simon’s expression quickened. “Did Reece know about your affair with Heathershaw?”
“He learned of it,” Lenora said in a small voice, “a few days before he died. He was angry because I’d chosen Claude, his friend. He felt it was a betrayal of sorts.” She laughed humourlessly. “Reece even threatened to tell everyone I was a—” she darted a look at Darby—“I was immoral. I suppose you think I deserved to be called such, but I vow I never wandered until after I lost the baby. I was half-mad with grief the last months of my marriage and hardly knew what I was doing.”
Darby frowned. “We were all sorry you lost your child, but you’re not the first mother to be so unfortunate. Yet to my knowledge, no others have taken lovers to console themselves.”
“What do you know of it?” Lenora blazed. “How easy for you to pass judgment on people, you with your beautiful brother who loves you more than his own life, you with your factory to run and handsome suitors falling at your feet! What do you know of failed dreams, of genteel poverty, of disappointment! How dare you cast aspersions on the way I live my life, when you have never known brutality or want!’’
Lenora was trembling with anger. In the sudden quiet of the room, Darby’s ears began to ring. Simon went to the widow and clasped Lenora’s arms in a soothing gesture.
“Brutality, Lenora?” he asked gently. “Did Reece hurt you?’’
Without looking at
him, she said, “Yes. Not often, but more so near the end. When he lost at the gaming tables he fell into rages, and that was happening more and more.”
Simon’s fingers tightened on her arms. “You told me you lost your baby through an accident. That wasn’t true, was it?”
Lenora’s gaze dropped to the floor. Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head. “Reece pushed me down the stairs. He said—he said he would not be responsible for another man’s child. And that—that was before I ever ...”
She was unable to continue. Simon, gazing at Darby with expressionless eyes, enfolded Lenora within his arms while she wept.
Darby watched them, horrified. If Lenora lied, she was the best actress on earth. Although Darby did not condone Lenora’s behavior, she began to think she might understand it. She could not even feel jealous that the widow was experiencing something she never would—the feel of Simon’s arms around her, the sound of his heartbeat beneath her cheek. Moving stiffly, Darby placed a hand on Lenora’s back. It was as much a gesture of apology as comfort.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Lenora mumbled something, wept awhile longer, then broke away from Simon. He handed her his handkerchief, and she dried her eyes and blew her nose.
“You must forgive me,” she said, composure returning. “I’ve spoken more than I should. It was not my intention to relive old troubles. I only hoped to beg you both to remain silent about what Darby saw this night.” Her hopeful eyes flickered between them.
Darby took a deep breath and prayed she was not about to disappoint her angel again. “I’m very saddened by what you have revealed, but you’re asking me to hide something from my brother whom I love more than my own life.”
Lenora laughed thickly. “I see you’re throwing my own words back to me. But be honest with yourself. Have you never hidden anything from Alexander?”
Lenora’s expression took on a crafty look as she glanced from Simon to Darby, causing the younger lady to think, This is the merry widow I know and detest.
“I have never hidden anything that might hurt him later,” she responded. And so that Simon would not scold her for piousness, she added swiftly, “But I’m willing to remain quiet so long as you tell him.”
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