His words of brittle condemnation broke her heart. ‘I’m sorry,’ Victoria whispered. ‘At one point, I thought you knew. That night...when you told your cousin she would meet Valentine Lawe before she left London, you looked at me—and I thought you had guessed—’
‘I guessed nothing. I was simply sharing my amusement with you over Isabelle’s silly infatuation with an unknown playwright. I said what I said in the hopes of making her feel better. Had I known the famous playwright was standing right in front of me, I wouldn’t have made such a damn fool of myself.’
‘But you did not—!’
‘Yes, Miss Bretton, I did. And I compounded my foolishness by telling your uncle to dismiss Signy Chermonde for what I believed to be a conscienceless act of malice. How he must have laughed at my gullibility—’
‘He would never have done that!’ Victoria cried. ‘We weren’t trying to deceive anyone!’
‘Not deceive anyone? You deceived half of London!’ Alistair snapped. ‘Everyone who went to your plays. Everyone who ever talked to you about Valentine Lawe. You deceived them all! And you did a damn fine job of deceiving me.’
‘Alistair, please—’
‘No! I trusted you, Miss Bretton. I admired you because I thought you were different from all the others. I respected you for having the courage to say what you thought. Believe it or not, I could have accepted the fact that you wrote plays, but I cannot come to terms with the extent of your dishonesty. To lie so convincingly to my face—how can I ever be sure you would not lie to me again?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Victoria said, feeling her heart shrivel up and die like an old woman’s hopes. ‘I never meant to hurt you—’
‘Pray, do not trouble yourself, my sensibilities are not so easily wounded,’ Alistair said in a voice that was chillingly cool and aloof. ‘Perhaps it is just as well I found out when I did. I suspect it has saved us both a great deal of heartache in the long run.’
He turned and started for the door, hesitating only long enough to say, ‘You need not fear that I will be the one to expose you. For the sake of...what I once felt for you, I will keep silent. But I have already given more to you than any other woman. Do not ask me for anything more.’
* * *
Victoria kept to her room for the rest of the week. She did not entertain visitors and she refused to pay calls. Nor did she write a word. She kept remembering the look of disgust on Alistair’s face, the surprise that had turned so quickly to revulsion. She kept hearing the cold ring of finality in his voice and it tore her apart. She couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think.
From her brother she learned that talk about her being Valentine Lawe had finally started to abate. Likely because the men in her family continued to deny the rumour whenever and wherever they heard it, and her mother so chilled anyone who brought it up that people stopped mentioning it in her presence. And, as her father predicted, it was soon displaced by a new rumour about a certain titled lady whose staggering losses at cards had all but bankrupted her new husband.
But because Alistair knew the truth and wanted to have nothing more to do with her, Victoria felt no relief at hearing the news. In point of fact, she could not have been more despondent. Because in the days following their final interview, she came to realise how deeply and irrevocably in love she was with Alistair Devlin. And how, as a result of her own stupidity, she had lost him.
The pain was debilitating; the razor-sharp edge of grief made her long for the darkness of night when she could lose her sadness in sleep. But upon waking, the agonising bleakness returned, and with it, the tears. Her brother knew how she had suffered. A week after her meeting with Alistair, he took her to Astley’s Amphitheatre so that they might enjoy the delights of the equestrienne ballet. But though he was a delightful companion and the performance highly entertaining, the memory of Alistair’s bitterness refused to be shaken.
‘You must try to get over this, Tory,’ Laurence said as they left the theatre at the end of the show. ‘It is not healthy for you to take on so. You will go into a decline.’
‘I can’t help it, Laurie. I miss him so much,’ Victoria said. ‘I never thought I would feel this way about any man, let alone him.’
‘Dashed uncomfortable thing, love,’ her brother acknowledged softly. ‘Especially when it’s with the wrong person.’
Something in his voice prompted her to glance at him. ‘You’re not still harbouring a tendre for Signy, are you?’
‘No.’ He laughed, managing to look a little sheepish. ‘I realise now it was just a silly infatuation. I always knew there was no future in it. But that doesn’t mean we can’t indulge ourselves in dreams.’
‘There is someone out there for you, dearest,’ Victoria said, slipping her arm through his. ‘You are going to make some girl very happy one day...if you pull your head out of your books long enough to notice one.’
He grimaced. ‘I don’t spend all of my time with books. I went to a rather disreputable club for cards the other evening and, though you mustn’t tell Mama, I visited a peep-show in Coventry.’
‘Laurie, you didn’t!’
‘Indeed I did. Saw the wonders of the Orient, the splendours of the Taj Mahal, and a very pretty young lady bathing on a Caribbean island.’
‘I hope she was decently clothed.’
‘Scantily, but decent,’ Laurence admitted. ‘I was far more interested in the palm trees and the remarkably blue water than I was in admiring her rather obvious charms.’
‘Wretch!’ Victoria said, squeezing his arm. ‘You would send Mama to bed for a week if she knew.’
‘Which is precisely why I have no intention of telling her. She is in enough of a tizzy over—’ He broke off, blushing. ‘That is—’
‘It’s all right, I know what you were going to say and you’re right,’ Victoria said, her momentary smile fading. ‘The entire family is in a twitter for one reason or another. Winifred barely speaks to me, Mama is chilly at best, and even Papa seems unusually distracted. I wouldn’t have thought it possible that one person’s actions could disrupt a family so completely, but it is clear that mine have. That’s why I have decided...’ she stopped and swallowed hard ‘...that I am not going to write any more plays.’
‘What?’ Laurence stopped dead in his tracks. ‘You can’t stop writing plays!’
‘Yes, I can. I’ve given this a great deal of thought, and it really is the only solution. When A Lady’s Choice finishes its run, there won’t be any more Valentine Lawe plays. I have already brought too much public attention and disgrace to the family and made everyone miserable as a result. You know that was never my intention.’
‘Of course it wasn’t, but you can’t stop writing, Tory. People would kill for a talent like yours. You can’t just...throw it all away or pretend it doesn’t exist!’
‘Actually, I can,’ Victoria said, refusing to let herself dwell on it. She had thought long and hard about this over the last few days and, while knowing she would not write another play only added to her feelings of
despondency, she also knew it was the only logical answer. ‘I can bear the humiliation for myself, but not for Mama and Winifred. Every time I see their long faces, I am reminded of what I’ve done and hate that everyone has to lie for me. That truly is the worst,’ she said, remembering the look on Alistair’s face when he had thrown the accusation at her. ‘So, in future, there will be no more need for lies because there won’t be any more plays. Eventually, everyone will forget about Valentine Lawe and life will return to normal. Winifred will marry someone suitable, as will you—’
‘And what about you, Victoria?’ Laurence said. ‘What are you going to do, if not write?’
‘I don’t know. Travel, perhaps. I’ve always wanted to visit Florence and Rome.’ Victoria stared at the bustling street, seeing it all through a grey mist of tears
. ‘Who knows? Maybe I’ll even go to Venice and ride in a gondola.’
‘Oh, yes, that will make Mama happy,’ Laurence muttered. ‘Her eldest daughter following in the footsteps of Lady Tavistocke. A blow from which she might never recover!’
Her brother’s quip brought a faint smile to Victoria’s lips, but it was not enough to keep the sadness at bay. She feared nothing had the power to do that any more.
* * *
Not surprisingly, the days following his interview with Victoria were not ones of joy or satisfaction for Alistair. Contrary to the belief that he would feel nothing but relief at being free of her, he was in fact ill tempered, impatient and a bear to be around. He found fault with everything and everyone and was quick to criticise and even quicker to dismiss...because the simple truth was, he missed her. He missed her beautiful smile and her wonderful disregard for the things that seemed to matter so deeply to everyone else.
He heard her spoken about, of course. Frequently, a salacious mention of Valentine Lawe would work its way into a conversation and he would be forced to listen to remarks that ranged from the mildly censorious to the openly condemning. It seemed that while no one could deny that Miss Bretton had a formidable talent, the majority agreed that it was not the thing for a lady to deceive people by writing plays under an assumed name, especially when those plays often hit so close to home.
Of course, there were those who refused to believe that Victoria was the famous playwright. Men, for the most part, who believed that no woman was possessed of that degree of talent. But in literary circles, she was highly praised, and while no confirmation was ever given by a member of her family or by the lady herself, bluestockings and those of an intellectual bent continued to support the claim that Victoria was the author and they celebrated her achievements accordingly.
Sadly, none of that took away from the fact that Victoria had lied to him. Or that she had done so in such a way that made it impossible for Alistair to go back and apologise to Lord Collins, or to his family or friends. He had given Victoria his word that he would not expose her and he intended to stand by that promise. But in losing her, he had also lost any and all interest in marriage. He informed his parents of his decision and while his father had been furious and his mother dreadfully put out, he had stood fast, saying he would not marry for their pleasure or convenience. Because in the midst of all the confusion, there was one thing about which Alistair was very sure.
He had to get over Victoria Bretton before he stood any chance of falling in love with anyone else.
Chapter Thirteen
Victoria knew it wasn’t a good idea to go to the orphanage. For one thing, the area was hardly the sort of place a lady visited, even in a closed carriage with a maid as a companion, and for another, there was the distinct possibility of running into Alistair.
That alone was enough to make her think twice about her decision.
But, for days now, she had found herself wondering about the children and how they went on. Ever since Alistair had taken her there, Victoria had felt a connection to those poor little waifs. To Molly and her sister, and to poor little Teddy, whose treatment at the hands of a cruel master could have scarred him for life.
And of course, to Jenny, who had been exposed to the type of violence no child should ever have to witness.
Had she spoken yet? Victoria wondered about that as the carriage drew to a halt in front of the grey stone building. Perhaps Mrs Hutchins had succeeded in breaking through the wall of silence and fear the child had built around herself. She would find out in the next few minutes.
‘Je ne pense pas que c’est une bonne idée,’ Angelique whispered, glancing through the window at the unprepossessing house.
‘I’m not sure it is a good idea either,’ Victoria agreed. ‘But we are here now and I am not going to leave without seeing them. I could not go on with my life without making some small effort on their behalf.’
The decision to make a donation to the orphanage had come to Victoria late last night as she lay awake in bed thinking about her future. It was one of several decisions she had made over the past week, and it was by far the easiest. By contrast, her decision to tell Alistair the truth about Valentine Lawe, followed by her decision to give up writing, had been the hardest. The others—to go away for a while and to set herself up in her own establishment upon returning home—had fallen somewhere in between, but the more she thought about them, the more sense they made.
It was unlikely she would ever marry. The possibility of having someone in her life other than Alistair was too unpleasant to consider. She would rather spend her life as a spinster than constantly be comparing her husband to another man and find him lacking.
No, it was better that she dedicate herself to other causes. She would go abroad and spend a few months travelling around the continent with Angelique or a companion—an older woman, perhaps, who was well read and shared her interests. Then, when she returned to London, she would take a house on some quiet London street and go on with her life.
She certainly had the wherewithal to do it. The plays had afforded her the income to live independently and, contrary to what she had told Laurie, she did intend to continue with her writing, but in the form of novels rather than plays, and more directed towards children than adults. She could publish them under her own name and become one of those women society didn’t know how to deal with: a strong woman of independent means and esoteric tastes. No doubt she would become part of a literary circle and hold intellectual gatherings at her home.
All in an attempt to forget the man she had fallen in love with and the life she would never have.
It was as she was approaching the front door that Victoria caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She smiled when she realised the boy was trying to watch her without being seen. ‘Teddy, is that you?’
Identified by name, the little tyke stiffened. ‘Might be. Don’t know you, though.’
Victoria wasn’t disappointed by the boy’s lack of recognition. She would have been more surprised had he remembered her. ‘I’m Miss Bretton. I came a while back with Mr Devlin.’
He stuck out his lower lip. ‘You’re the one wot read to Molly.’
‘That’s right. I’ve come to see how she is.’
The little boy shrugged. ‘She’s aw’right. Doc’s not been round this week. Mrs ’utchins said there weren’t no need.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ Victoria said, hoping the housekeeper’s reasons for not summoning the doctor had more to do with an improvement in Molly’s health than the alternative.
‘Wot’s in there, then?’ he asked, glancing at the hamper Angelique was carrying.
‘A few little treats,’ Victoria said. ‘I thought they might be nice to have with your tea.’
Teddy briefly considered this, then, to her surprise, walked up to the front door of the house and pounded his fist against it. ‘You’ve got to bang ’ard sometimes,’ he said. ‘They don’t alus ’ear a light knock.’
‘Thank you, Teddy. I am most grateful for your help,’ Victoria said as the door swung open.
‘Why, Miss Bretton!’ Mrs Hutchins looked far more surprised to see Victoria than Teddy had been. ‘Whatever are you doing here?’
‘I’ve come to see the children, if that’s all right. And to bring them a few things.’
‘Is Mr Devlin not with you?’
‘No. He doesn’t know I’m here and I would rather he not learn of it,’ Victoria said.
‘Well, you’d best come in then. Don’t worry about the carriage; Thomas will keep an eye on it. Won’t you, Thomas?’
Victoria looked around and saw the lanky young man who had been there the first time she’d visited, leaning against the wall. He didn’t smile, but he did nod in a very serious fashion. Victoria made a note to herself to leave something for
him when she left.
‘You’ll have to excuse the mess,’ Mrs Hutchins said as she led the way upstairs. ‘I’ve already started to pack. Mr Devlin says we’re going to be moving the end of next month as the work he’s doing on the house is coming along better than he thought. And look, here’s Margaret come to say hello. You remember Miss Bretton, Margaret?’
The little girl with the spectacles glanced up at Victoria. She didn’t smile, but she did nod. ‘Hello, Miss Bretton.’
‘Hello, Margaret. How are you?’
‘I’m fine. Molly’s all right, too. She hasn’t been coughing as much.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it.’ Victoria glanced at the housekeeper. ‘Do you think we could go up and see her?’
‘I don’t see any problem with that,’ Mrs Hutchins said. ‘Margaret, take Miss Bretton and her maid up while I put the kettle on for tea.’
‘Actually, I was thinking Angelique could stay here with you,’ Victoria said. ‘She could help you put away the things in the hamper. I won’t be long.’
Angelique seemed happy enough to stay downstairs, no doubt hopeful of a gossip, and with Margaret once again taking her hand, Victoria made her way upstairs. She arrived to find most of the younger children there. They were all a bit shy at first, but Victoria soon set them at ease. Some of them remembered her, likely because seeing a lady of quality wasn’t something that happened often.
At least, Victoria hoped it wasn’t a common occurrence. She couldn’t bear to think that Alistair had already brought another lady here, someone with whom he hoped to share his life and his interests. But, then, what did it matter what he did with his life now? He had made it perfectly clear that she had no place in it.
Molly was no longer in bed. She was sitting at a small table, drawing on a piece of paper. Victoria didn’t have to feign pleasure when she looked at it. ‘How very pretty, Molly.’
‘It’s a princess,’ the child said.
No Occupation for a Lady Page 17