He was right, he truly was, but it no longer mattered, nothing mattered. The past few weeks swirled in her head, waltzing couples jostling her on the floor of a ball. The rise and fall of the music, faster and faster, like madness.
“We’re beyond propriety. Besides, don’t people like her, like me, discuss that sort of thing all the time? I believe that’s part of the terms before haggling over payment. I’m—”
The slap wasn’t hard, but it stunned her anyway. Her father had never raised his hand to her, in all her years and she’d done quite a few things that would’ve received a bit more than a slap from most parents. She should’ve cared, but her innards were stone.
“Don’t you ever, ever speak about your mother that way. She would’ve died for you. You will never, ever disrespect her or me or yourself, no matter what happens,” her father growled.
She held her cheek. How dare he? After everything. He permitted her to engage in all sorts of behavior with no context, no warning, no real understanding of her own limitations.
“Respect. You use that word after what you did to me, hiding me from everyone, even myself? That wasn’t protecting me, that was imprisoning me in a false sense of the world. You shielded me and cosseted me and left me almost no choice, but to be a blasted recluse like her, like you. I’m fed and have my pets, but what else is there in my life?”
What indeed? Jay. There was Jay and there were these past few weeks when he’d given—together, what they could be together. She’d never be able to go back to the life she’d led before, not after Jay.
“Why did you permit me to come here?” She clutched at her gown.
“Ursula.” Her name was a plea on her father’s lips.
“You should have told me before I—”
She couldn’t say the words. Her father knew she didn’t love Hugo and assumed the adventure would end as it did, but why hadn’t he warned her? She had, just like Rachel said, gone too close to the sun.
“I’m so sorry. I wanted you to see things, understand why this Hugo business was foolish. I already started speaking to my counterparts in Europe, but I wanted you to be ready to marry for those purposes. I didn’t think things would get this muddled. I’m so sorry. I should have spoken to more—”
Sour, everything tasted sour, as if she’d consumed lye or varnish or—she had to leave, had to get out, had to find some way, some place, some fix. She could mend this. She could. She could plan and do something, and everything would be right again. Jay. She had to find Jay.
“I’m sorry,” her father whispered again.
She paused. He loved her. He did, and he’d aged and he’d done his best and he was human. He was her father, but though she’d always be his child, she wasn’t a child anymore.
She swallowed and went to his side. She tilted up and kissed his cheek.
“I know.” She whispered the words. No. She could speak up. She could be the strong one. She owed that to him at the very least. “I love you too. I will be fine. I will always be fine.”
Before her voice could reveal more, she hitched her skirts and tore down the hall. Jay. The only thing she wanted right now was Jay. With Jay she could somehow find a way to right it all once more.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Bernard Levy poured himself whiskey, straight from the decanter, and lifted a glass towards Jay. Jay waved Urs’ uncle, or whatever he was, off. The man shrugged. He downed the entire contents and poured himself another before returning to a chair. He glared at Jay, his hooded eyes blazing with fury.
“Departing soon, Mr. Truitt?” Levy folded his arms. “I suppose this makes your plan easier. You now have an even better cover to frolic and wallow in whatever cesspool you wish. She doesn’t need to jilt you now. She’s unredeemable. A Jew maybe, a girl from a poor background perhaps, though unlikely, but both, no, your parents would disown you, wouldn’t they? And you couldn’t have that. I mean, what would you do without your allowance?”
He settled the glass and kicked his feet onto a footstool. “Don’t worry about my dear niece. I heard Judah was already planning to buy her a new stallion. Good investment. There are already breeders interested, though she’ll probably want to ride him. He’ll purchase her two and this will all die down and no one can say no to the banks so she’ll have plenty of animals to occupy her for the rest of her days. There will be other men too, our kind of men, ones who can protect her.”
His garments were too tight. If he breathed he’d pop every button in his shirt and trousers. If only he could dunk his head in a vat of ice.
Why did her uncle have to be so hateful, and so close to the truth? When Bernard spoke the words, the lines were black and crisp as fresh ink—ugly—all the beautiful patterns and unexpected surprise washed away.
Jay froze, rooted to the floor. Everything was collapsing. Yes, it was going to happen eventually, but not like this, never like this. And he’d entertained the foolish, idiotic fantasies that perhaps, she and he could—he nearly choked once more.
“This is what her father wrought.” Levy’s voice was bitter. “I begged him to just find the woman a position, not bring her into the family. We were already making a nuisance of ourselves in America, expecting too much, trusting laws and documents to protect us. We didn’t need additional fodder.”
Rage flew through Jay. He balled his fists and took a step forward. How dare he? Urs and her father were good people, people who didn’t deserve this kind of treatment, especially for things over which neither had control.
“So, he was to ignore his feelings, what, for some ethereal potential future benefits to your people as a whole?” Jay’s teeth chattered as he spoke.
Bernard smiled, a hollow, bitter stretching of his lips. The breath flew from Jay’s chest as if he’d been punched as the man shook his head.
“You have no idea what it’s like, Mr. Truitt, to be barred from everything, to be forbidden from owning land, to never be permitted citizenship in the country of your birth, to be forced to leave your home because of who you were. America bestowed upon us things we’ve never had in Europe, without a price. Yet. But there’s always a price. When will you turn on us? For what reason? The fear is always there. Why tempt fate?”
Fair points, but hiding away, denying the existence of people like Urs’ mother and Urs herself, to project some sort of image? And didn’t Urs’ mother have the right to want some sort of life, some sort of happiness? Acid burnt his stomach at the thought.
“I don’t, but throwing away people who do not fall into some sort of—”
“How lovely it would be to have our criminals not reflect upon us, but that’s not where we live. We live in a fragile world. Every right is given only by the graciousness of people like you and any excuse—how many times has parliament yielded? How many times has emancipation been struck down due to arguments about people like Roseanna Simon? Our balance is quite delicate, Mr. Truitt, to survive amongst you, we must be valuable but docile, we must only benefit society, never demand too much, never take too many resources and even then, there are no guarantees we’ll receive anything but scraps.”
“But this is America.” In England or elsewhere in Europe, yes, but as Levy said, in America, they were no different than he. They could vote, own land, do what they wanted.
“You really believe that difference is so profound? If you do Mr. Truitt, you are as naïve as my brother-in-law.” Bernard drained his glass. “None of this is your concern—thank goodness. The girl technically owns the company as Judah didn’t trust me not to try to take it from her when he died.”
Levy squeezed his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. “You’ve done enough, taking her virginity and exposing her past. Since you’ve made her a pariah, at least here, there’ll be no threat of an unsuitable husband, so it’ll remain hers, until we can find her one from an advantageous European family—a Jewish one.”
“You’ll be gone. Back to wherever your family sends you the next time.”
Jay’s mouth fell open. His hands shook. Levy couldn’t have told Urs, could he? Mercy, how she’d look at him when she found out he’d been in that place, tied to a bed for months.
“I know your cousins very well. The Levy family sold them our medicinal line of imports when we scaled back. I know exactly why the Hales are the largest in the market and not the Truitts and I gave them recommendations on where to send you.” He sniffed at Jay. “For someone as addled as you, your scheme wasn’t half bad. However, we all know where it’ll end.”
He narrowed his eyes at Jay. “You’re weak, Mr. Truitt, spoiled and weak like many of your people. You have no business here, not around anyone in my family, including my niece, who, as I’ve said, despite her mother, is Judah’s daughter and is a benefit in her own right. She deserves better—much better.”
Pressure seared through Jay’s head. The blood pumping in his chest boiled, but his heart thudded like it would explode, like he’d been stabbed and was bleeding, a gaping, open wound.
Levy stared at the window, not at him, as if he was not even there. “As weak as you are, she’s ten times stronger—Samson with all his hair. She’ll survive. She’ll forget about this whole affair and guard the business for my grandchildren.” His voice was grudging.
He closed his eyes, a signal that he dismissed Jay without acknowledging him.
Jay blinked over and over, the room spinning. He had to get rid of the torment. He fled up the stairs to his room and rifled through his bag until his palm hit what he wanted, what he needed.
His entire body shifted. Even just touching the items—the anticipation—he’d be all right soon. Everything would be all right. All he needed was a few minutes and he could be somewhere else.
A match. He had to find a match. He patted his pockets. Nothing.
He raced to the dresser and rifled through his luggage. Shirts and belts and handkerchiefs piled behind him as he searched. His skin prickled. He needed it. He needed it all now.
Leather and cloth and nothing else. The first case sailed across the room and bounced. He grabbed the next, the handle cutting into the soft flesh between his thumb and forefinger. Nothing. More nothing. He screamed into the air. A rushing sound invaded his ears.
He grabbed the nearest shirt and ripped, his nails scraping against his own flesh. Buttons clinked against the walls. Blood dotted the fine, white cotton. There went his other hand.
“You know, the servants could help you pack.”
He whirled around.
She was in the doorway, her face streaked with tears, her curls tumbling down over her shoulders. She was an absolute mess. Her sleeves were askew and drooping. Her face was red and blotchy and all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and kiss her and cling to her and breathe and somehow they’d once again be all right.
“Urs.” He stared at her, still on his knees, in the midst of the carnage. Oh lord, he was so lost.
“I would’ve liked some advance notice.” Her voice was cold. “I don’t care to look like a fool.”
Being kicked by a horse would’ve been less painful. He was surprised he stayed upright.
“Urs—I didn’t—I’m—”
“When did you decide to leave me?” The catch in her voice as she indicated to the luggage splayed about the room overwhelmed the anger, shredding his innards.
He hung his head. A weight pressed on his chest. How to explain? Everything had happened so fast and to tell her would mean he’d have to confess and she couldn’t know. She’d never understand. She was strong, like her uncle said, too strong. Better to let her believe he was a cad than permit her to see what he really was.
“Is it about this? About my mother? Before, with my father—you knew—you knew—you knew about me.” She pointed at him. “How did you know? You knew and you said nothing.” The tears started again, but she made no effort to wipe her face. “You let me find out when my uncle and Lydia, of all people, showed me that horrible article.”
“Urs.” He scrambled to his feet and reached for her.
She pushed him away, hugging her body instead.
“I trusted you, Jay. I trusted you with all of me, with everything and you kept this from me, and now you’re going to leave at the first opportunity.” Her body shook with every word.
Rage seared inside him. How could she not know he was protecting her before he could do more damage?
Leaving at the first opportunity? If that was it he’d have abandoned her days ago. He’d be in a fog right now, a beautiful, peaceful fog instead of permitting her to tear chunks of his flesh.
Jay moved in front of her. “That was the plan. You were to marry Hugo and I was to leave.” He spat the words.
“And you wouldn’t want to go against the plan.” She lifted her head and glared. “Nothing has changed, has it? At least not for you. Nothing over these past few weeks changed anything. Not the conversation with Hugo, not what I did with you, not what I said to you.”
“That’s not—Urs—I swear—” He ran his fingers through his hair as pressure forced the flood just behind his eyes.
The lump rose through his neck into his jaw, as he blinked and stared. Liquid streamed down her checks, a storm, not a drizzle. Her face, blast, her face.
The truth twisted the knife, the blade jagged and worn from use on his soul. She thought she loved him.
No.
He should shake her. This was the worst of all possible worlds. It was one thing for him to become infatuated with her, to believe he could win her, but now, he knew, after three days, he knew. He’d never be what she needed.
He was a monster. He was leaving her unprotected. She was always the girl who didn’t fit and now she’d be the girl who was rejected by two men. Jay shuddered as Bernard’s words echoed in his ears. Unfair but true and for her to face it all alone, head held high, but hearing every whisper.
He lifted his foot off the shreds of bloody clothing and mass of untidy belongings. Whatever she’d endure before her family took her to Europe had to be better than being saddled with him. If he’d ever proven he was worthless and useless—even fighting his cravings he’d let her down—abandoned her.
“It would never work,” he blurted.
“Why?” The word was a whisper of tears.
He ran to her and gripped her elbows even as she wriggled in his arms, full sobs overtaking her.
“Because I’ll fail you. Because that’s who I am. I’ve already failed you. I ruin things. I can’t be trusted, Urs. You need someone strong and I’m the exact opposite.”
Her curls jiggled as his shakes transferred onto her. She wrenched herself from his gasp and wagged a finger at him, blue fire raging.
“Don’t you ever say that about yourself. You’re the strongest person I know. I trust you with everything in my being, with my life, with my father’s life. How can you not see that?”
Had she gone mad? He certainly hadn’t bewitched her, but she had to be drunk or daft. Tears streamed down his cheeks even as a harsh chuckle escaped his lips.
“You have no idea, Urs.” He shook his head. “No idea how truly weak and worthless I am. There are things, things I’ve done, that I’ll probably do again, that would—”
“You mean the opium pipe and the laudanum?” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “You may not be a fool, but I’m not one either.”
“How long have you known?” Sweat beaded on his brow.
“I have an excellent sense of smell. And I spent my childhood around someone very ill.
“And then, your parents made comments...and everything made sense. Why else would they have sold that wing of Truitt Industries? Not that it’s such a tragedy—I’ve never trusted the stuff. I’ve never heard anyone ‘cured’ of anything from it. Profited off of, but not cured. It made my mother comfortable, but vague at the end, nothing more. Nunes doesn’t profit from the suffering over others, well, certainly not the physical suffering.”
He turned up his lips at her joke despite himself—but oh, such a mess. When had she spoken to his parents? Did his father know about the pipe?
“But?” He could form no more words.
“I see you, Jay. I watch you, all the time. You stroke and pet the materials, especially when you can’t sleep.”
Everything within Jay sagged. It was all too much.
She grabbed his hand and held it to her breast. Her heart beat below his fist. He closed his eyes. He could get lost there, lost in her scent, in her rhythm, in the safety they promised, but those were illusory, especially for the likes of him.
No.
He broke away and laid his forehead on the wall. He couldn’t look at her. He didn’t deserve to look at her.
“Then you know, Urs. You know I’m inches away from death or an asylum. What would that do to you? You deserve more and better, so much better.”
A hand rested on his shoulder. His skin scalded. Didn’t she understand how the images she brought tortured him? He shrugged her off. Her breath hitched.
“You need to leave, Urs. I’ll go to my parents’ within the hour.”
“You’re strong enough, Jay, and good enough, and we could be astonishing together. However, I cannot believe in you and us alone. I need a partner. And I do deserve that, we both do, but if you cannot—” A choked sob swallowed the rest of her statement.
He closed his eyes, slumping farther as the door shut, the retreating footfalls sounded down the stairs.
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