A Love Beyond Lies: An Inspirational Historical Romance Book

by Lilah Rivers

  “I see…”

  “May we come in?” her mother asked, her voice still soft with concern.

  Gemma moved out of the way and allowed them to enter. She closed the door behind them and fiddled awkwardly with her hands.

  “W-would you care to have a seat in the living room—I mean the parlor—and enjoy a cup of tea?” she offered.

  “That would be lovely,” her father said, eyeing her with uncertainty.

  Gemma showed them to the living room where they took their seats and she was ready to depart to the kitchen to make the tea.

  “You have no maid?” her mother asked in concern.

  “No, we do not. It is not a matter of affording one, it is simply that my husband and his sister are confident in being able to do these things on their own. I shall return to you in just a moment with the tea,” Gemma said, leaving the room as quickly as she was able.

  Once she was in the kitchen, Gemma released a heavy breath that had been caught in her lungs all this time.

  She was terribly anxious and upset. How had they found her? Why had Miss Collins told them? Was it not Gemma’s decision as to when they would find her? It would have been better if they had received her letter.

  She was frightened by the calm, quiet demeanor that they showed. Perhaps for another woman it might have been a relief not to hear yelling, but Gemma knew that their quiet was something different entirely.

  Her mother and father were quiet when they had an expectation. And this was certainly an expectation that they would not be denied.

  She prepared the tea as slowly as she could. Gemma even considered the possibility of slipping out the back window and running away, starting over fresh once more in a faraway place.

  But she had grown to appreciate her life here in Tucson. Not only that, but had she not decided that she would open herself to her parents anyway?

  Perhaps the difficulty was that it was not on her own terms as she had originally planned.

  Finally, the tea was ready, the milk poured into an extra little pitcher, the sugar in a bowl, and the cups set neatly on the tray that she was using.

  She walked as calmly as she could, although she saw the way the tray shook in her hands as she proceeded forward.

  When she reached the living room, she saw that her mother and father were still silent, apparently not having said a word to one another in her absence.

  “Here you go,” she said, setting down the tray and distributing the cups to each of them.

  “Thank you,” her mother said quietly.

  The air in the room was one of anticipation. Not a good anticipation, to be sure, but rather one of awaiting a severe punishment and not knowing when it would be doled out.

  Finally, Gemma took her own seat across from them.

  “Is there anything you would like to say?” her father asked.

  Gemma inhaled and exhaled a long, ragged breath once more.

  “I expect that you would like to know what it was that led me to come here despite knowing that you would not approve,” Gemma said.

  “That would be correct,” her father replied.

  “I understand that you must have been worried, angry, upset…” she said.

  “More than you could ever know,” he added.

  “In truth, perhaps it was not done the way that it ought to have been. My departing from you was a decision made swiftly and out of desperation,” Gemma told them.

  “How could you have been so desperate? What did we do that was so wrong and made you feel that you had no other choice than to leave like this?” her mother asked, desperate and fuming, tears flooding her eyes.

  “You would not hear me when I tried to tell you that Lord Linton was a vile, cruel man,” she said.

  “Not this again,” her father muttered.

  “Why do you think he has not married any of the other young ladies in whom he was interested? It was not his own choice. Their mothers and fathers listened to them,” she shot back, her own hot and angry tears spilling over her lower lashes.

  “If that were the case, if he were such a terrible man, do you not think that all society would have known by now?” her father challenged her.

  “Of course they would not. He is a wealthy man and who would listen to a young woman over a man like that? A man with power and influence?” she asked in reply.

  All were silent for a moment.

  “I am sorry that you feel that we have not listened to or believed you. But you must understand, Gemma, that you are speaking against a very well-known and powerful man. If we listen to him, that is because he has proven himself time and time again in society,” her father said.

  “And have I not proven myself as your daughter?” she asked.

  “You, our daughter, have run away from us. You have disregarded every wish that we had for your life and you have abandoned your family,” her father said.

  “I have ensured that my life is going to be safe and good and happy. I have made a decision that I could be married to any man except for Lord Linton and in the end, I found myself wed to a truly wonderful man,” Gemma told them.

  “A wonderful man? He cannot be so wonderful if he had to pay for a wife to be brought from afar. Did you not think that, perhaps, there is much you do not know about him yet? How could you trust a man like this? How could you have done something so terribly foolish?” her father asked, his temper rising.

  “You have not even met him. I wrote to you, just days ago, to tell you that I am here, because I wish for you to know Mr. Thompson. He is a perfect gentleman. He is wealthy, which I am sure matters to you. He and his sister have looked after me, most kindly,” she said, defending them.

  “Gemma,” her mother said in a worried, yet stern voice. “I cannot bear the thought of you being here, so far from us. But regardless of that, I cannot bear the idea that you cared so little for us that you would run off like that.”

  “I did not mean to hurt the two of you. But I had to go. I simply had to,” Gemma said.

  “You did not have to do anything. You chose to. And your choice was careless of your family. You did not give a thought to us and what we believed was right for you. You did not respect us on any of these matters,” her father said, still appearing livid.

  “Father—” she began.

  “No. You must hear me out now. Your mother and I have listened to your excuses and your attempts to manipulate us. You do not get to decide to leave us simply because you do not like the man that we have matched you with. Nor do you get to speak so ill of him,” her father said.

  “Even if it is the truth?” she asked.

  Her mother’s eyes softened and her father appeared far too flabbergasted to speak in reply. It was as though he had not expected her to continue speaking against the man, as if he thought that she would now come clean and admit that it was all lies.

  But it wasn’t a lie. Lord Linton was vile.

  Gemma prayed silently in her head, begging God to intervene, asking him to show them the truth. She could not bear this any longer, she needed them to understand that she was being honest, that she was truly frightened of the man they had chosen for her to marry.

  But it was clear that her father would not listen, that only the Lord would be able to prevent anything from happening further that might wound her.

  “Gemma, please…” her mother said, soothing and desperate, but also clearly an attempt to get her to comply before Gemma’s father grew even more agitated.

  She looked at her mother with tears of betrayal.

  “I am married. I am happy here,” she said in a pleading tone.

  “You must return to England with us. This marriage may be erased and forgotten. And any…scandal,” her father said, by way of delicacy, “may be forgotten by a quick marriage to Lord Linton.”

  Gemma understood that her father was frightened that she may already be with child from her current marriage and that he would make her marry Lord Linton quickly to cover it up, just in cas
e. And although she knew that all of their fears on that point were senseless, she was glad that at least there was something to give him pause.

  If only he would listen to her enough to know that she had every reason to be afraid. But it was hopeless. Gemma understood that no matter how she tried to fight it, her parents would not listen, they would not heed her words.

  And if they remained unconvinced, Gemma did not know what she might be forced to do.

  Chapter 25

  Amos relaxed into the chair, quite full after the meal that he and Mr. Lindsey had enjoyed.

  “Well, I must say that you Americans know how to put together a fine meal,” Mr. Lindsey said.

  “I’m glad you think so. We certainly do try. I don’t know that we are as successful at cooking for the English, but we do our very best. Maybe sometime you and your family can come over to our place for dinner. My sister is a great cook,” Amos said.

  “That would be lovely,” Mr. Lindsey said.

  “Very well, then. We can make it happen at your earliest convenience. We really do love having guests over,” Amos said.

  “You are too kind. I think that I would like to continue to be your friend, you know. You and your wife. And, of course, your sister as well,” Mr. Lindsey said, kindly.

  “Thank you. We would like that. I’m sure it would be nice for Gemma if she was able to have some English friends. I can’t imagine how hard it is to leave one’s own country behind and try to move forward in a new place,” Amos said, shaking his head.

  He had been so amazed by her strength in the midst of all of this change. But he also wanted to try and make the future as easy on her as possible.

  “Yes, it is rather difficult. You know, there are always things that you will miss when you are in a new place. Things that you left behind and want to have again, see again, taste again,” Mr. Lindsey said.

  “I have never gone very far from Tucson. I mean, I’ve definitely traveled a bit, but never more than a couple days away. You know, I would love to see England someday. If Gemma ever wanted to go for a visit, I think it would be grand,” Amos said.

  “You should absolutely try to go. The journey is not an easy one, but I trust you will enjoy it. Just do it before your wife is with child,” Mr. Lindsey said, looking at Amos intently and with a question in his eyes.

  “Oh, we still have time before that,” Amos said with a laugh.

  “That’s very good,” Mr. Lindsey said, leaning back in a relaxed pose.

  “Tell me more about your wife and children,” Amos said.

  Mr. Lindsey’s face twitched.

  “What about them?” he asked.

  “Oh, you know, their names and what they think about America,” Amos said, wondering if it was rude in England to ask those things.

  “Oh, yes. Certainly. But…first, let us have a drink,” Mr. Lindsey said, snapping his fingers at the young lady who worked at the tavern for attention.

  Amos didn’t know whether or not to tell him that this was actually quite rude in America. He wondered if that was normal in England, or if only people of a higher class did that kind of thing. From what Gemma had said, the wealthy were quite rude.

  But these little manners, he believed, would come with time. Mr. Lindsey had only just arrived in America a week before, from what he had said, so it was perfectly understandable that he did not yet know the culture.

  The young woman came over.

  “Yes? What else can I get for you?” she asked.

  “I should like some brandy,” Mr. Lindsey said.

  “All right, then. And for you?” she asked Amos.

  “Oh, nothing for me, thank you,” he replied.

  “Nothing?” Mr. Lindsey asked, looking surprised.

  “No, no thank you. I do not drink alcohol,” Amos said, very politely.

  “Come, you must have a drink with me. It would be my delight to enjoy a glass of something together. Wine? What else do you like?” Mr. Lindsey asked.

  “I really do not drink alcohol. Of course, I don’t mind if you do, but I abstain from it,” Amos explained.

  “I have scarcely heard of such a thing from anyone who is not a minister,” Mr. Lindsey said with a laugh.

  The young woman went off to get Mr. Lindsey’s brandy and to leave the two of them to debate this issue on their own.

  “You really ought to try just a little. I promise you, there is nothing wrong with it and you do not have to be a drunkard to enjoy just a bit,” Mr. Lindsey said.

  “Oh, I know that. But it is my personal preference not to have any,” Amos said with a shrug.

  He did not wish for Mr. Lindsey to feel judged in any way, but he also did not wish to feel so pressured into drinking when that was something that he knew was not right for him.

  The brandy was brought, and Mr. Lindsey took a sip.

  “It is very good. You really must try just a bit,” he urged.

  “No, thank you,” Amos said, putting up a hand and wondering why Mr. Lindsey was struggling to respect this very small matter that he did not wish to have any alcohol.

  “Please, come. Just a bit,” Mr. Lindsey said again.

  Amos took in a deep breath and smiled.

  “Mr. Lindsey, thank you, but I really don’t wish to have any. I am not going to drink anything with alcohol. That is my personal conviction and I would appreciate it very much if you would respect that and we can just leave it at that,” Amos said.

  He felt as though his attitude on the matter had been perfectly reasonable. While his voice was steady and even enough to convey the seriousness of the matter to him, he was also light and airy enough to be polite and kind regarding the issue.

  But Mr. Lindsey clearly looked perturbed by the fact that Amos had stood up to him about the drink. Amos tried to keep his smile and move the conversation forward.

  “So, what else can you tell me about your family? We would love to invite you over, as I said,” Amos said, as gentlemanly as he could.

  But Mr. Lindsey’s face underwent another shift.

  “Why don’t you tell me about my wife?” he asked, an undercurrent of a growl and a hint of a snarl beneath it all.

  “I-I don’t know what you mean,” Amos said.

  “You do not? How could you not? Do you mean to tell me that she has said nothing of me?” Mr. Lindsey asked.

  “Mr. Lindsey, what is it that you are speaking of?” Amos asked.

  With a firm, slow and angry tone, Mr. Lindsey said, “Take me to my betrothed.”

  Amos was deeply confused. It was clear that something had Mr. Lindsey upset. Something was very wrong now between the two of them, but he could not quite figure what that was.

  Had he said something wrong? What was all of this about Mr. Lindsey’s wife or betrothed or something? None of it made sense and Amos leaned back, thinking that perhaps Mr. Lindsey was not quite stable enough to interact with.

  “Maybe I should go…” Amos said, looking at the young woman and nodding that he was ready to pay.