by Eliza Emmett
“Dear brother, when we are finished here, we will have a light lunch, and after that we plan to take a stroll in the garden. Do you care to join us?” Addy asked. Cora wondered whether Grant Galavyin was as unable to say no to his sister as she was. Her suspicions were confirmed soon enough.
“What have I ever denied you, Addy?” He smiled and then sat down, all the while looking at Cora. She thought his stare was intense. Maybe he was afraid a mere blink could cause her to disappear.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he finally said. “I have something for you, Miss Larsen.”
“For me?”
“I will be but a minute.”
Addy was grinning brightly, flashing a set of white, straight teeth. She and Cora engaged in small talk while Grant was gone. It was clear Addy knew something about the two of them, or else she would have been puzzled by the whole exchange.
He came back shortly after, carrying a booklet, which he handed to her. “I thought you would like this almanac issue of Punch Magazine. It has a special section on Women’s Suffrage. I thought of—well, I thought of you when I saw it.” He seemed somehow anxious for her approval.
“That’s very kind of you.”
“I urge you to read especially the article ‘Suffrage for Both Sexes,’ which presents the view that a law must be wrong if even the most incapable of men are allowed to elect Members of Parliament whereas the cleverest of women are not.”
Cora smiled despite herself. “I’m eager to get started.” Why did he have to be that way? Why did he have to say all the right things?
“But not before food and a stroll in the garden,” Addy said. “I insist we go once we are done with luncheon. I very much want to show you around the property.”
Luncheon? Cora was sure she wouldn’t be able to consume a morsel of food, and yet she knew that if Grant planned to be there, then lunch was the only place where she should be.
****
“What are your views on canned food, Miss Larsen?”
Cora wondered why Lord Galavyin asked her such a strange question, but her answer was not influenced by such confabulation.
“If cans of food allow more people to eat vegetables and fruit, Lord Galavyin, then they are a most welcome invention, don’t you agree?”
“I agree.”
“Mother will not allow them in the house, though,” said Addy. “She insists on everything fresh, and so much food you could feed a town.”
Cora smiled a non-committal smile. It was one thing for Adele to criticize her own mother and quite another for her, a guest and a woman of a lower station, to do the same, no matter how upset she was at the morning meeting.
“How do you like the consommé, Miss Larsen? How about the crêpes? Is it all to your liking?” He seemed eager to please, but she couldn’t allow him to mollify her heart.
“Everything is marvelous, Lord Galavyin. Thank you.”
“Oh, Cora. I’m so glad you are here and we can be friends.”
“Thank you, Adele. You are most kind. Is your mother not joining us for luncheon?”
“Mother often has luncheon with other ladies. She is out today for one such undertaking. Our mother thrives in society. She loves all social events. Grant and I did not take after her, did we brother?”
“We certainly did not.”
Cora felt that his comment had more than one meaning, so she found it prudent to change subjects.
“Was your father a man of society as well?” It was the first question to come to her. She hoped it was appropriate.
“Not at all. He was a quiet man who liked his garden, his books, and chess. He taught me how to play. I became quite good. I miss him.” Adele let her eyes get marred, and one heavy tear fell on her lap while her brother reached for her hand. However, a second later, it was clear that Addy’s natural disposition for happiness was already taking over. She shook away the melancholy by speaking of her children. “My son loves chess too. He is very smart. So is my daughter. And they adore their uncle.” She flashed a smile toward her brother.
“I’m sure they are adorable.”
“Cora, I don’t mean to speak out of turn about work while we are having such a pleasant lunch, but I do need gowns for the upcoming Season, and I want to make sure your shop will have time for them. I can only imagine how busy this time of year must be.”
“It is quite busy indeed, but I just hired a new seamstress, and I’ll certainly make time for your orders.”
“That’s wonderful, thank you.” Adele stopped for a second and then, changing subjects, asked, “Are you planning on attending many events?”
“As I have told your brother, I am a working woman, with little time to be out in society, I’m afraid. What little free time I have, I spend with books.”
Cora saw Adele throw an inquisitive look at Lord Galavyin. He in turn seemed compelled to explain himself. “I have encouraged Miss Larsen to attend perhaps a few select private parties, if she felt inclined to do so, that is.”
“You have?” Addy took turns looking from one to the other of her luncheon companions, and before lifting one more forkful of crêpe to her mouth concluded with a simple “I see.”
****
Addy’s eyes were alive with excitement right before the young woman led the way outdoors. Adele’s happiness had an innocent quality to it, one she was not afraid to express and share with those she met. Being around her was like being warmed by sunshine.
Outside the mansion, Cora found an enchanted garden. It was a display of different species, formally arranged and apparently chosen for no other reason than being pleasurable to the eyes of visitors. Even the naked beauty of several of the trees this time of year contributed to the overall effect. Plants here were ornaments, decorations, like a pair of attractive earrings framing the face of a beautiful woman. And there were finials and large vases everywhere too. Moss and natural aging made the pots fit the garden so well it was as if they had sprouted from the ground, just like the vegetation.
Addy was at home in the garden too, like the delicate flowers, or the butterflies and birds. She seemed intent on pleasing Cora, pointing to a shrub here, calling her attention to a vine there, or to the morning glory, which crept up the white trellises. It wasn’t a large garden, this was London after all. But it had a resplendent prettiness that invited guests to overstay their welcome. It also had a little pond surrounded by stone statues covered in delicate lichen. A stone bench finished the ensemble. It seemed like the perfect place to sit and read a good book, or to be embraced by a great love. She got rid of that last whimsy by blinking repeatedly.
Grant Galavyin followed them at a short distance, giving them some space to talk. Cora felt his presence, even without looking back, and wondered if his eyes were glued to her the way she secretly hoped. Adele continued to serve as hostess by talking without stopping to catch her breath.
“My children love these gardens in bloom. I’m sorry that it is still too chilly for many of the flowers. You will have to come back in a month. What a good reason to come and visit me again. We shall eat outside, and maybe the children will join us, and you will see how much lightness they bring to this place.”
“Please tell me more about your children.” Cora wanted Adele to talk, to silence the internal chatter that was going on inside her own brain.
“Certainly. As you know there are two. A boy and a girl. Peter and Imogene—Ginny, we call her. I love them so. I had just taken them to visit my favorite aunt when I met you outside. What a beautiful happenstance.”
Cora thought for a moment. “Mrs. George Galavyin, would that be?” She looked back meaningfully at Grant. He sustained the look until Cora, needing to ascertain her stand, looked ahead again.
“No, Uncle George is a widower. And a grumpy man.” The last part she whispered. “You know that Grant is his heir presumptive?”
“Is that so?” She looked back again. This time Grant looked down.
“Yes, no children of his own. But he a
dores Grant.”
“Oh? Would you say your word carries a lot of weight with him, Lord Galavyin?”
He didn’t flinch.
“Less than one would want, Miss Larsen.”
Cora stopped to study his reaction. He appeared genuine and concerned, but who could tell the true heart of a man? She didn’t pretend to know, that was for sure. She knew better than anyone that some men dissimulated their true feelings as well as actors would, and if that were the case here, she was not going to be deceived ever again. A familiar panic made her face prickle. She moved past fear and onto the next issue. Why couldn’t he have used his influence to stop his uncle from throwing her out of her shop?
“Don’t be so humble, Lord Galavyin. You seem like a man who gets what he wants. The city at your feet, wouldn’t you say?” She drew a large imaginary circle with her hand, and ended up by pointing at his polished shoes. The retort sounded more sarcastic than she originally intended, but she was really, really worried, and feigning anger seemed a better option than showing weakness.
“I neither have, nor do I intend to have, anything or anyone at my feet.” His dignified manner, so becoming before, aggravated her now. “I would very much like to have a large degree of influence over my uncle’s decisions, especially when I think he is making a grave mistake, but apparently even that is too much to hope for. As you can see, I have less power and influence than you would give me credit for.”
Cora thought Addy might have felt both lost in the conversation and stuck in the tension between them because after looking from one to the other, and searching for words she was seemingly unable to find, she excused herself with an urgent need to instruct a maid. As soon as she was out of hearing range, Lord Galavyin spoke again, this time in a more confessionary tone.
“Miss Larsen, you have my word that I will continue to try my best with my uncle. I derive no pleasure from seeing you suffer. Quite the opposite. I feel somewhat responsible for your current situation even if I cannot put it down to anything other than a terrible coincidence.”
Cora stared at him. She was really angry now. And she very much hoped he saw it in her eyes. Maybe this was the reason he felt compelled to continue.
“I might be his heir, but he does not rely on me for advice. If he did, all of this would have been sorted. You can be sure that I am as concerned as you are.”
She didn’t like this last retort. Not at all.
“I fail to see how that could be conceivable, Lord Galavyin. Your way of life is not in any danger. Your future is secure and golden. After all, you have all this, and I only have my shop. So you see, being as concerned as I am right now is not possible.”
“Oh, it’s possible, Miss Larsen. Don’t doubt that for a second. And the reason for that is very simple. I―”
What followed happened so fast that Cora would not have been able to explain it were she asked about it later. She could not remember what took her there: an invisible force, an uncontrollable pull, or her growing anger. She could not tell if she had any sense of what was coming. Yet the next thing she knew was the warmth of his breath on her face, the taste of his lips against hers, followed by the embrace of his arms, and an irresistible desire not to step away.
****
And then sense returned to Cora like a landslide, and she ran away from the garden, still drunk with his kiss but quickly sobering in the cold wind that had settled in. She prevented herself from looking back, exited through a side gate, and walked the streets as if they were unknown to her, as if this was a new city she was visiting for the first time, as if she had moved to Bath or Reading. She avoided horses and their carriages, and kept to the path in the park. She crossed streets in orderly fashion but did so with detachment, without knowing what she was doing. She wasn’t sure anymore what part of this day was real and what part was fantasy. She had no idea if he had tried to follow her.
In a haze, she made it to the shop where Sally and the new seamstress had been worried about her absence. She was surprised she hadn’t got lost on her way there. She answered the question the women didn’t ask.
“I had to take care of some affairs for the shop.” It wasn’t a lie in the strictest sense of the word. “I should have told you how long I would be gone. I apologize. Now let’s get back to work. There’s much to do and very little time. The Season will not wait.”
She drank some tea and worked on a blue dress with her usual accuracy, but her mind did not follow her capable hands. It was still stuck in that kiss and on his eyes, which looked so true and yet in which she could not afford to believe. She pricked her fingers as usual. She finished bodices and sleeves as usual, and she measured and spoke to customers as usual. But usual had become strange and uninspired. Usual did not include Lord Galavyin.
Chapter Eight
The vicar came to see Grant one evening when it was so foggy and rainy that a small puddle formed under his feet in the entrance of the big hall. He looked tense and tired, wearing dark circles under his eyes, circles that aged him several years. He was still kind and sensible, but this time there was concern furrowing his brows, an emotion that Grant had not seen in him before. He had looked so comfortable and at home in the hospital annex on that evening of fellowship and compassion. He removed his hat and apologized for the intrusion more profusely than necessary.
“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but I didn’t know where to turn, and when you gave me your card, you told me that I could reach out to you if there was ever any need. Well, it seems I am calling on that favor much sooner than I expected.”
Grant’s first thought was for Cora. After the way she had left, it would not be too farfetched that the vicar should be there on her behalf. Maybe she had confided in him, asked him to intervene in the issue of the shop. Maybe she had confessed about his kiss.
“Please sit here, Vicar. How can I be of service to you?”
“I’m much obliged to you, Lord Galavyin. Forgive me, but I will go straight to the point. Do you remember Toby, that clever boy who chatted with you and whom you were kind enough to present with a coin?”
“Of course. A bright lad, that was.”
“He is, sir. He is also treasured by his mother, who is a hardworking nurse at the hospital. That’s why he comes to eat soup. He is often around the hospital, and that’s one night she doesn’t have to worry about dinner.”
“Is there something the matter with him?”
“Very much so, my lord. It turns out the boy is missing. He had been telling his mother he wanted to do something to better their life. It was all he talked about this last month, his mother claims. Getting a job. You see, he doesn’t have a father, so he feels he’s the man of the house. His mother was amused at first, that he would show such character and drive. But after a while, she became concerned and forbade him from trying. And now this. He is nowhere to be found. We’ve asked everywhere. The lady in question is sick with apprehension. I didn’t know where to turn, and knowing you are a man of many connections, of influence, I wondered if you had any advice to dispense.”
Despite the vicar’s high regard for his capacity, Grant was, between leasing troubles and missing persons, starting to feel utterly powerless. He was a learned man, but his knowledge was, like that of many born into privilege, theoretical. He could sit at a club and speak of politics or international affairs as well as the next gentleman, but these concerns he had been introduced to since he met Cora were outside his usual experience. Yet, almost paradoxically the feeling of incapacity frustrated him into action. He could do something if he tried. He could help people. It was humbling to realize how much he didn’t know, but he was ready to learn and make himself useful. It was his obligation to at least try.
“We need to start a search. The boy could be cold and hungry. He is likely scared. You can count on me, Vicar. Please reassure his mother that I will do what I can to bring him back home.”
The vicar’s features relaxed. “Thank you, Lord Galavyin. I knew I could count on
you. You struck me as a man of honor and strength. Here’s some information on the boy. I wrote down a few items. Send me word if you need more. Good day to you, sir. I will be waiting for news, day or night.”
Grant was ready to spring into action. He remembered he knew a police officer in Whitechapel, and although the hospital was not in his district, it would be a place to start, to learn how this was done.
“Vicar, I’d appreciate if you didn’t share these concerns with Miss Larsen. She would want to help, and she already has so much to worry about.”
“I understand. I won’t mention anything. She might notice his absence though, if he is not around the next time we serve soup.”
“Let’s hope all is settled by then.”
The vicar left, and Grant walked around reorganizing his thoughts for a bit. Then he sat down and wrote a letter to be taken to the police station. As he made his way to the door while putting on his coat, he ran into his mother.
“Who was that man?”
“A new friend.” He wasn’t going to bring her into his confidence.
“I saw him as he made his way out. His shoes tell me he is not a desirable acquaintance.”
“Curious, Mother. How differently you and I regard our acquaintances. You judge yours by the quality of their shoes. I, on the other hand, prefer to look at the quality of their hearts. By my standards, that man is excellent. Good day to you.” And without any further words, he was gone.
****
Cora Larsen was at home thinking of how she had never met a man like Lord Galavyin. When challenged, he had taken the trip to the hospital in his stride, accepting with elegance what was presented to him, helping where help was needed. She had to admit the outing had been a kind of test, one to help her gauge his reaction to situations in the life of normal people, those who struggled to make ends meet, and who worked hard, and who felt cold and sometimes afraid. He hadn’t even blinked. He had shown empathy beyond her expectations.
And yet because of his family, she was now going to face such an unexpected trial. And the complication added by that kiss made her head spin. She ran her fingers over her lips, wondering if the mere sight of them would reveal to others what had transpired. How could she be angry and infatuated at the same time? And could she not trace all that was happening in her life at present to the opportune appearance of Lord Galavyin? Hadn’t she been hurt by love enough to know better?