by Jane Goodger
She sobered rather quickly, though it was clear she was still trying not to laugh, and said, “Of course you did.” She turned to her mother. “Mother, my reputation is saved.”
“I, for one, do think it’s rather callous of Mr. Southwell to be making a jest of things so early,” Christina said, and Alice was touched by her sister’s fierce loyalty.
“I apologize,” Henderson said, giving Alice a small bow. From the narrowing of her eyes, she knew he was mocking her, and to be perfectly honest, at that moment, when his heart had just taken a small beating, he did not care.
Oliver gave him a long look, which Henderson pointedly ignored. “You were joking, weren’t you, Henderson?”
“What sort of a man would show up after four years and do such a thing?” It was not an answer but no one pointed that out, for which Henderson was grateful.
The group was silent for a few beats before Mrs. Hubbard suggested they not waste the fine breakfast the cook had prepared in anticipatory celebration of the bridal party returning to their home. Looking over at Alice, Henderson noted her color was high, no doubt caused by the small reminder of the expense her parents had once again undertaken.
“I’m not very hungry, Mama. If you don’t mind, I think I will go up to my room to change. Have the staff returned from the church yet?”
Henderson tried not to look at her, but it was nearly impossible. He wanted, more than anything, to draw her into his arms and take away the pain that she was so clearly trying to hide. She might not be heartbroken, but the fact that she’d been left at the altar—again—had to be devastating.
“Of course. I think I heard someone moving about downstairs.” Her mother pulled on a velvet cord and moments later Mr. Owens appeared, his face even more solemn than usual.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Could you have Hazel go up to Miss Hubbard’s rooms?”
After Mr. Owens left to find Alice’s maid, Alice kissed her mother’s cheek, then her father’s.
“Are you certain you don’t want me to find him and pummel him?” Oliver asked, and Alice let out a small laugh.
“I am certain.” She swallowed and before she turned to leave the room, Henderson was sure her eyes filled with tears. He took a step toward her but stopped abruptly, realizing how strange that would seem. It didn’t matter that he’d thought about her every day since he’d left; it was clear she hadn’t thought of him. Then again, what had he expected? That she would wait for him when he hadn’t even had the courage to ask her to?
He’d left without a word, without even a letter of explanation, thinking it was better. Everything was so raw, so horribly, horribly wrong after Joseph’s death. When that first wedding invitation reached him, two weeks after the supposed event, Henderson had felt something shift in his heart. He’d lost her because he’d been too ashamed, too filled with guilt and remorse and that awful promise he’d made to Joseph. And he’d lost her. Word that her fiancé had died before the wedding gave him a small amount of hope—until the second invitation reached him just a year later.
That was the last he knew until one of his grandmother’s infrequent letters reached him and mentioned Alice and her third attempt at matrimony. Apparently, it was unusual enough to spark even his grandmother’s interest. Something came over him in that moment as he held his grandmother’s letter in his hand, something fierce and raw. It was almost as if God were up in heaven giving him chance after chance and Henderson was simply too stupid to take a hint. Or perhaps it was Joseph manipulating things down on Earth so that his best friend could finally be with the only woman he’d ever loved. It was a fanciful thought, but it began to grow and grow until it was a physical thing inside him, this need to leave India, to return home and stop Alice from marrying again. A miracle happened then. Dr. Cornish, sanitary commissioner for Madras, urged him to return to England, to rally support for famine relief, to give first-hand accounts of what was happening, to try to use any influence he had to get someone, anyone, interested in the millions of lives that were being lost.
Henderson had left that meeting with a feeling of inevitability, and as he’d looked up at the gray sky over Madras, he’d smiled. “Thanks, Joseph.” He could picture his friend up there, rolling his eyes, and saying, “It’s about time, Southie, you stubborn fool.”
Four weeks later—a week after his original arrival date thanks to several delays—he was stepping off a ship, his heart pounding like mad. Alice was getting married in one hour. A hack was waiting, as if for him, and Henderson climbed aboard, feeling his heart swell with what he recognized as hope. It bloomed inside him, nearly felling him. He’d rehearsed on his journey home what he was going to say, but as he approached the church, his brain got all muddled and the only thing he knew was that he had to stop it. Had to. Then, disaster struck. The hack’s wheel shattered, leaving it listing far to one side on a crowded London street. Pulling out his watch, he realized with sick dread that he was going to be late. He jumped from the hack, throwing the driver a coin, and began frantically looking about for another. Nothing. The streets were clogged with traffic, the noise suddenly unbearable. And so he began to run, knowing even as he did that he would be late. After four bloody years of pining away for her and doing nothing, he was going to lose his one chance to act, to make her his.
Somewhere in the distance, a church bell rang, nine loud peals, each one causing more and more pain in his heart. The wedding had started and he was still several long minutes away from the church. He stopped, breathing hard, sweat dripping from his forehead, his hands on his knees, failure gripping him. It hit him then that perhaps Joseph hadn’t been helping him all these years but rather torturing him. She’s getting married. Suffer. She didn’t get married. Relief! Again and again. Until this day when he’d been so very close to finally at least trying to do something, only to have fate step in again. Or Joseph, who was no doubt up in heaven wearing a satisfied smirk on his face. If you had been there that night, I wouldn’t be dead. It was nothing but the truth.
After that, he’d walked with slow purpose toward the church as a punishment of sorts. For if he hadn’t left England, she might be his wife even now. Surely he could have convinced Lord Hubbard that he was worthy of her. He’d gone quietly into a side door at the church and slipped into a pew toward the back. And waited. When the vicar started to make his way to the back of the church, Henderson walked out the way he’d come in and waited until Alice and her sister emerged from the church. She looked pale and distraught, but all he could think was, I still have a chance.
* * *
Alice settled in front of her mirror as Hazel, clucking her tongue in sympathy, removed her veil and started unpinning her hair. It was the second time in three years that she’d sat in this very spot, her throat thick, her eyes dry, wondering what would become of her.
“A terrible thing, miss,” Hazel said. “Everyone downstairs is so upset for you.”
“Thank you, Hazel.” After first removing her wedding dress, Hazel had swiftly, and unceremoniously, put the garment away and out of sight before focusing on her veil and hair. No doubt her mother would donate the dress to charity. Perhaps the League of Impoverished Women Who Were Actually Getting Married. She sighed, staring at herself and promising with every fiber of her being to say no the next time someone proposed.
At least her friends from St. Ives hadn’t made the trip this time. They had wanted to come, of course, but Alice told them it was to be a small ceremony. The truth was, most of her friends could hardly spare the expense of attending yet another wedding. Alice wondered if she’d had a feeling even weeks ago that this wedding would never occur. Looking back, she tried to see if she’d missed something, a sign that Lord Northrup was lying to her. He’d told her several times that he adored her, that he was looking forward to their life together. All along, he’d been in love with someone else, somehow realizing she was not nearly the catch he’d thought she was.
Just the id
ea of going home to St. Ives, still Miss Hubbard when everyone in that little seaside village thought she’d be Lady Northrup, made a fresh rush of humiliation flood her. Although Alice had never put too much stock in attaining a titled husband, she had indulged in writing her name over and over: Lady Alice Heddingford, Viscountess Northrup.
“Shall I brush out your hair, miss?”
“No, thank you, Hazel,” Alice said, taking the brush from her maid’s hands and setting it on the vanity in front of her.
It wasn’t until Hazel had softly closed the door behind her that Alice gave in to the tears pressing painfully against her eyes, and for that moment she fervently wished that her small group of friends were with her. They were all a bit younger than Alice, all unmarried, and all her champions. Except, perhaps, for Eliza, who had always been a bit jealous of the fact that Alice had gotten engaged three times when she’d never even had a serious beau. Still, she knew Eliza would drop everything to be with her. They all would: Eliza, Harriet, and Rebecca. They had spent endless hours together since they were still in short skirts. Alice wondered if the four of them were cursed, because though the women were all attractive, all intelligent (some less than others, but still), and all of marriageable age, each remained steadfastly single.
A soft knock on the door had her quickly dabbing her eyes and casting a quick look in the mirror to make sure she didn’t look quite as devastated as she felt.
“Come in,” she called, hastily rising and pulling on her wrap just in case it was her brother. But it was her mother, her face filled with concern, who came into her room, still wearing the dress she’d worn in the church.
“How are you really?” she asked.
“Awful,” Alice said with a watery laugh. Her mother hurried to her and gave her a warm hug. Just feeling her mother’s arms wrap around her, with her familiar mother-smell, made Alice want to weep all the more.
“I daresay I don’t know what words to tell you to make this better. It is unbelievable that this has happened to you.”
“Again.”
“Again.” Her mother let out a sigh and stepped back so she could peer into Alice’s eyes. “Are you certain you don’t want to take any legal action against him? What he did is unconscionable. Why not tell you last evening? Or any other time? He certainly had plenty of opportunity to call things off.”
“I believe he meant to see it through; I could tell something was wrong yesterday evening. I thought perhaps he was just nervous about the wedding. I know what he did was wrong, Mama, believe me I do. But I just want it over. I want to forget it happened. I want everyone to forget that it happened.”
Elda walked to the window and looked out. “Henderson is leaving.” She sounded unaccountably sad, and Alice understood that her mother felt very much the same way she did when she saw him. Joseph and he had been so inseparable; one could hardly think of Joseph without thinking of Henderson. “Odd that he’s shown up now, today, after all these years.”
“Very odd.” Alice looked in the mirror to make certain the flush she felt wasn’t showing on her cheeks. It had always been that way, ever since she was fifteen years old and Henderson had come to stay for the summer. Her infatuation with him was a secret she held close to her heart; no one knew, especially not the man himself.
“It does make one wonder if he really did come to stop the wedding.”
Alice laughed, unable to stop herself. “Mama, he’s just got off the boat this morning. He must have heard about the wedding somehow and thought he’d peek in to see everyone. And on what grounds would he have done such a thing? Lord Northrup is a fine man with a good reputation. It wasn’t like the last time, with Mr. Russell. I could believe someone trying to stop that wedding.”
“I am sure you are correct,” Elda said, dropping the curtain and walking back to where Alice sat. “Besides, as much as I adore Henderson, he’s probably the last man I’d want for you.”
“Mama, what a snob you are!”
A small sigh escaped her mother’s lips. “His birth has nothing do with my feelings toward Henderson, you know that. It’s that he’s known as a bit of a rake, my dear. I can’t imagine he’s changed all that much in four years.”
Pressing her lips together to stop from smiling, Alice nodded. “I’d heard.”
“You had?”
“I may not read the Tattler, but my friends do. Before Henderson left he was tied to no fewer than three actresses and an opera singer. And he was only twenty-one. It used to vex Joseph terribly when my friends and I quoted from the gossip columns.”
Elda’s expression grew wistful. “It did. Joseph was fiercely loyal to everyone he loved. Why, I remember he got into a terrible row with Julian Giles when he said something unflattering about you. Your father had to go and apologize to old Mr. Giles for the violence done to his son.”
A smile bloomed on Alice’s face. “He did? Why didn’t I know about this?”
“We didn’t want you to be upset about what Julian said or what Joseph did.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Your father was secretly proud.”
Alice laughed. “What on earth did Julian say?”
“He said you were the homeliest girl in St. Ives.”
Alice was truly shocked, for she’d always liked Julian and the two of them had been friends when they were children. “He did? How old was I? Perhaps I was the homeliest.”
Shaking her head, Elda said, “No. You were never the homeliest. I think he said that terrible thing because he didn’t want the other boys to know how much he liked you.”
“That makes more sense,” Alice said, laughing. It wasn’t that she was vain, but she did have a certain appreciation of the fact that she wasn’t ugly. She let out a sigh. “It’s nice to talk about Joseph. Sometimes I feel as if he never existed, as if we want to forget him.”
Her mother’s eyes instantly misted. “It’s just so painful. Your father, he cannot bear to think about it. You have no idea how devastated he was, and still is.”
“We all are,” Alice said, gazing at her hands. “It’s just that talking about Joseph makes him less gone. Do you know what I mean? And seeing Henderson…”
“I know,” her mother said, reaching over and placing one hand on Alice’s knee. “It seems like it was just yesterday. Maybe because Henderson left right after the funeral.”
“I still get angry with Joseph, you know. I picture him with his mates, climbing that stupid roof, taking that insane chance. What was he thinking?”
“He was no doubt thinking what all young men think, that they will never die.”
Alice’s eyes filled with tears. “I hope he wasn’t frightened.” It was something she’d thought about for years, a thought that tortured her, and it felt oddly comforting to say it aloud.
Her mother smiled sadly. “I have a feeling that even in mid-air, our Joseph was thinking how grand it was to fly and that he’d likely bounce off the ground like a rubber ball.”
Alice laughed at the image. Her mother was right, that was exactly what Joseph would have been thinking.
Elda stood, looking uncertain, as if she were wondering if her daughter was truly as unheartbroken as she appeared to be. “Is there anything I can get you?”
“No, Mama. And lest you think I’m heartbroken, I am not. I am sad, yes. And embarrassed and mortified and angry. More than anything, I want to go home and never set foot in London again.”
Elda laughed, bringing her daughter back in for another embrace. “At least until next season.”
Alice pulled away. “No, Mama. Never again. I’m not going to allow anyone to court me and I’m never, ever going to wear a bridal gown again.”
“Oh, Alice, don’t say such things. This too shall pass.”
Alice hugged her arms around herself and fingered the embroidery on the sleeve of her wrap. This would not pass. This would be the defining moment of her life, the day Alice Hubbard vowed never to marry.
*
* *
Henderson stepped down from his hack onto Albermarle Street and looked up at the façade of Brown’s Hotel, his home for at least the next week. It felt strange to be back in London after the grit and poverty of India. Strange and good. He hadn’t known how much he’d missed the city until now. His mad dash from the ship hadn’t afforded him much of a chance to look about, and now that he had the opportunity, he realized how dear the old place was. Every corner, every street, held a memory. It was home. The accents, the smell of roses, the sound of horses on the cobblestoned streets.
He entered the hotel, his feet sinking into the almost decadent carpet that covered much of the gleaming marble beneath, and breathed in the scent of beeswax and fine food. A small bit of guilt hit him, that he should enjoy such sensations when so many millions were suffering back in India. His mission was not to bask in creature comforts, but to enlist the help of powerful men to push the House of Lords into providing funding and support for relief. Dr. Cornish was not optimistic about his mission, but Henderson believed passionately that it was every Englishman’s duty to help the poor. Yes, they had run into opposition again and again in India, but that was only because the people back in England did not fully understand the scope of what was happening. When he left England to return to India, everyone would know.
As he waited for the clerk to determine which rooms were available, Henderson pulled out his well-worn list of men who held in their well-manicured hands the power to save the millions of starving people. Eight men who could change the world, who could literally save lives, simply by allowing England’s massive stockpiles of grain to be used by the starving people of India rather than shipped to well-fed citizens of Britain.