by Joan Avery
She rushed forward into his arms. Burying her head in his shoulder, she clasped him so tightly, she thought she’d never let go.
“Shh, shh. No one need know. Henry and Edith have sworn their secrecy. We can at least have this moment.”
She raised her head. He kissed her then, deeply and satisfyingly. He trailed kisses down her neck, and she laid her head back to allow him access to its most sensitive parts.
He had his back against the door, protecting them from intruders. She sobbed then. From relief, from frustration, from worry. She rested her head against his shoulder, tightening her grasp.
She spoke barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t bear it if you lost everything because of me. But I don’t think I could bear losing you either.”
He tightened his grasp as well and kissed the top of her head. “I can weather anything if I have you beside me.”
His words gave her courage. She stepped back out of his embrace. The tears in her eyes made him shimmery and exceedingly handsome. “What are we going to do?”
“I will not recuse myself. Stanford has threatened your life if I do. But I will have to make my decision based on the law as it currently stands. The result may not be fair or just. You have to understand that.” He took her face in her hands.
A month ago, she would not have understood. She would have railed against the injustice and held her views so tightly no one could pry them from her.
But that was a month ago. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything else. I don’t think I would love you as I do if I even thought that anything else was possible.”
“What has made you so brave?” he asked, brushing away her tears.
“Difficult men,” she responded with a smile.
She cradled his face in her hands and drew him toward her. She kissed him using all the skills she had learned from him. It was satisfying to return the favor. Satisfying and frustrating. She wanted more. So much more. Images of their lovemaking were still fresh in her mind. She wanted him to love her physically as well.
She rested her head against his shoulder again, barely content to only be pressed closely to his warmth and comfort. “My father has realized his mistake. He will testify on my behalf.”
“Henry has told me.”
“What will become of us if he decides to destroy us?” She did not need to put a name to the man who held their fate in his hands.
“His reputation is well known. Perhaps he cannot harm us in any serious way. People will be skeptical of his motives.”
“But what about his threats? What if he tries to hurt you? He has had no qualms about threatening my life.”
“We will deal with that when the time comes. Who knows. The decision may go in his favor.”
She pulled back again to study him to see if he was teasing. He wasn’t. It was oddly consoling.
“You cannot stay in here much longer. You will be missed. And I need to leave before the guests start departing.”
“No,” Victoria whispered.
“I must. I will see you soon.”
How different it would be to see him in court. How had a matter of weeks changed things so completely?
“Will you wear your cloak with the fur trim around your neck that you wore to the prince’s party?”
She looked at him, puzzled.
He circled her face with his hands. “The fur will replace my hands, a warm reminder of how much you are loved.”
She pressed a kiss into each of his hands in turn. And when he drew her toward him, she tried to savor it. Perhaps they would never be this free again.
They kissed deeply and repeatedly. Reluctant to part. Eager to postpone, if only for a moment, their fate.
“I love you. I love you more than I ever thought possible,” he said.
Victoria bathed in the astonishment in his eyes. “And I love you. More than you even know,” she whispered in response.
“Victoria? Are you in there?”
“Yes, Father. I’m coming.” She remembered the shawl and ran quickly to gather it. Hugh was still in the doorway, blocking her path.
She didn’t know if he would step aside to let her go. She didn’t know if she wanted him to. Slowly he moved to where he would be hidden by the door when she opened it.
Reluctantly, she opened the heavy door and shielded her eyes from the bright light of the hallway and her father’s prying eyes.
Chapter Forty-One
Emily embraced her. “Oh, Victoria, it’s so good of you to come.” Less than two weeks after Edward’s death and her miscarriage, Emily was headed home to New York. She looked deathly pale and the cold wind threatened to blow her away.
“Do you have any time?” Victoria asked. “When does the ship leave port?”
Emily’s father nodded toward Victoria with a sad smile. “Spend time with your friend, if you like. We have several hours before we leave. I’ll see to the luggage.”
“There is a pleasant-looking tea shop just there. Do you see it?” Victoria said.
“Yes.” Emily turned to get her parents’ approval.
“Go with your friend and join us later onboard,” Emily’s mother said.
“Come then and we shall gossip.” Victoria smiled warmly and slipped her arm through Emily’s. They made their way carefully among the stacked luggage ready to be loaded onboard and the crates of vegetables and chickens and everything else needed for the eight-day voyage.
They entered the small shop. It was neat and clean and, most importantly, warm. Victoria guided Emily to a corner far from the tables filled with those waiting to embark.
After they sat and ordered, Victoria asked, “How are you truly, Emily?”
“I am still quite dazed by it all. Mother and Father want me home, and I cannot say I am against it. But I’m afraid it will all be lost.”
“What will be lost?” Victoria asked.
“My husband, my child. It was not all bad. Edward was basically a very kind man. I think perhaps that is why he…” She didn’t finish. “He didn’t want to see me subject to all the humiliation.”
“Or perhaps he didn’t want to face the humiliation himself,” Victoria offered as kindly as she could. She was amazed Emily still saw everyone and everything in the kindest light. Her friend was in far too fragile a condition. Victoria couldn’t argue with her parents’ decision to take her home, even though she would miss her lifelong friend terribly. For the first time, Victoria realized she herself wouldn’t be going home. Certainly not anytime soon.
“I don’t want to forget them,” Emily continued.
“Then you won’t.” Victoria reached out to pat her friend’s hands. “I am only just realizing myself how strong the ties are that bind us to people and places.”
“I worry about you, Victoria. What will become of you? If you lose everything, you will be forced to return home. Your father has been very unsympathetic to your position.”
“My father has returned to England, and his opinion has changed dramatically. I think he has begun to understand my plight and promises to be supportive of my defense.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. I knew he would come around to see what he was putting you through. When all this is settled, will you return to New York? It would be so lovely to have you there.”
Victoria didn’t want to disappoint her friend, but she couldn’t promise. “I think I will be staying here for a while.”
“But you hate it here. You’ve raged about it from the moment you set foot in England.”
Victoria smiled. “You’re right. But things can change.”
“What would make you change your mind?” Emily’s wide eyes indicated her amazement. “I know you well. You do not change your mind willy-nilly like some women. It must be something very serious to have caused you to change your plans.”
“It is something wonderful,” Victoria hinted.
Emily sat back in her chair, and color came to her cheeks for the first time. “You have met someone. Oh, how wonderful!�
� She leaned forward and took Victoria’s hands. “I have hoped and prayed for so long. You could not share any happier news than this. He does not care about the lawsuit about all the gossip? He must truly be remarkable.”
“He is. He says he will love me regardless of the outcome of the trial. He is a wonderful man. Filled with integrity and knowledge. He does not begrudge me my views on women and their rights. In fact, he supports me. I didn’t think such men existed.”
“Who is he? Perhaps I know him.”
“Sadly, I cannot say. Not now. But I promise to write as soon as I can.”
“Yes, you must promise.” Emily had come out of her stupor. She was as excited as when they had been schoolgirls together.
“You have your whole life ahead of you, Emily. You must know that. Do not let the current unhappiness affect your future. I know you will find someone equally remarkable. You will find happiness again.”
Emily’s eyes were filling with tears. “You have been a kind and good friend all these years. I wish you much happiness. I will remember what you’ve said.”
“Please don’t upset yourself.” Victoria found her emotions taking hold as well.
Their tea finished, they rose and embraced. Both overwhelmed. Both feeling the loss deeply.
“You must go and join your parents. I don’t envy you your trip across the Atlantic in this weather. But at least in New York you will be free from this infernal fog.” Victoria laughed through her tears.
“I can’t wait to see them skating in Central Park. And the snow…how I long for snow.” Emily smiled broadly. “Thank you, Victoria. Thank you for everything.”
“You are more than welcome, my good friend. Have a safe voyage.”
The two women parted reluctantly. Victoria stayed in front of the tea shop for a long time watching her friend as she headed to the ship.
As Emily was about to disappear from view, Victoria whispered, “I wish us luck, my dear friend. We both are in desperate need of it.”
Chapter Forty-Two
The day after seeing Emily off, Victoria climbed the steps to the Royal Court of Justice. She held tightly to her father’s arm and tried to prepare for the hours ahead. The thought of seeing Hugh was tempered by the fact that she would also see Stanford. She wore the cloak she had worn to the prince’s party. Its fur cradled her face as his hands had. It gave her courage and kept her from panicking. If the worst happened, she would still have his love.
Reporters from both reputable newspapers and gossip rags took notes as she entered. She held her head up a little higher. They couldn’t hurt her any more than they already had.
“Let me take your cloak, my dear.” George Westwood had removed his own overcoat. He sat just behind the railing that separated the general crowd from the table where the litigants sat.
“No, thank you, Father. I have a slight chill and prefer to keep it on for the moment.”
She sat down and looked around her. She had been here before, but today everything took on new meaning.
On her right was the raised witness box. Would Stanford tell the truth, after he swore he would?
Before her, at her level, was a table for the court clerk. And above him was the bench. Raised maybe four feet above floor level, it no doubt was intended to intimidate litigants. She certainly had been intimidated the first few times she was here.
She realized that what seemed so foreign to her must be terribly familiar to Hugh. He had not entered as yet. A stir at the back of the court caused her to turn.
Lord Stanford had arrived with his barrister. He actually seemed sober and clean. But the smirk on his face left her angry and disturbed. Only she and Hugh knew how unsavory he really was. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.
Stanford and his barrister, George Cairns, would share the long wooden table where she was already seated. It was too close for Victoria’s taste. In America, she at least would have been afforded her own table. But this was England. And the rest of her life was to be decided by English law.
Stanford sauntered down the aisle as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Confident, belligerent, he projected the very image of an English peer. She remembered what she had first thought of Hugh. He had seemed haughty and old-fashioned. Prudish and fastidious.
How different he was to her now.
“Please rise.” The clerk’s voice echoed through the room.
The crowd in the courtroom rose. Victoria kept her head down, too distraught to face Hugh, who was entering.
“Mr. Cairns, you may proceed.” She finally glanced at Hugh. Gone was all the tenderness he was capable of, gone was the joy, and gone was any recognition of her at all. She was suddenly abandoned. Lost. She didn’t know what she had expected, but this was not it.
“My lord, the plaintiff presents to the court a simple case of contract law. It is nothing more, nothing less,” Lord Stanford’s barrister began, and all Victoria could think was that it was about so much more.
…
“She flattered me with” —Stanford cleared his throat as if embarrassed to have to address so delicate a subject— “intimate favors.” There was a stir in the courtroom. “She showed no signs of rejecting the terms of the contract. I was taken aback by her refusal to marry. I could only think she wanted to enjoy more men rather than tying herself down to one.” More whispers among the observers. “The document is fair and the conditions of her marriage clear. She cannot now say she never agreed. She must meet the terms whether or not she proceeds with the wedding. It would be unjust to me if she doesn’t forfeit the money.”
If Victoria didn’t know better, she would almost find Stanford’s testimony believable. How could she go about defending herself against his lies?
Her barrister stood to question the witness. “Lord Stanford, do you have anyone who can confirm your allegations that Miss Westwood visited you at your rooms on several occasions for the purpose of an intimate dalliance?”
“I am a gentleman, sir. I was deeply concerned about the young woman’s reputation. I arranged the assignations so her good name would not be lost.”
“So you were concerned about the young woman’s reputation but in this courtroom, you have no qualms about dragging her name through the mire.”
“This is her choice, not mine. The little bitch deserves everything she’s getting and more.”
There was a collective gasp from behind them, mostly from the few women present.
“Is that how you truly see her, Lord Stanford?”
He backtracked. “I don’t think that of most women of my acquaintance, but Miss Westwood comported herself like a whore. If she acts like one, she is one.”
Those in attendance created a furor at the back of the courtroom.
Hugh used his gavel to silence them and then directed comments toward the plaintiff. “I believe it is unnecessary to attack the moral character of the defendant. That you believe her to be in compliance with the agreement the document puts forth is adequate.”
Stanford smirked. He turned to Hugh. “Of course, my lord.
Victoria sat in shock. How could someone lie so in a court of law after swearing to tell the truth? If her reputation was in shreds prior to the trial, it certainly would be beyond repair after Stanford’s lies. She was losing faith.
She wanted the impossible. She wanted Hugh to come to her defense. Wanted him to tell everyone it wasn’t true, that Stanford was a rapist and an abuser. That he needed her money to pay back what he had lost gambling. That he was dissolute and reprehensible. Her honor was being sullied, and it wasn’t even in the court’s interest to defend her against the lies. She fought to understand. Fought to control her growing temper. All of it was so unfair!
Her barrister followed up. “So you are saying you believe Miss Westwood was in agreement with the contract because of so-called dalliances that you cannot prove.”
Stanford remained silent.
“Did you see her signature anywhere on the document?”
“No. But the agreement was between her father and me.”
“So you believe a woman has no rights in these matters. She is chattel to be bought, sold, perhaps traded on the open market like a sow?” Again the audience reacted to the questioning with an undercurrent of whispered comments.
“The money wasn’t hers to begin with. The settlement was from her father. She had no rights.”
“Ah, you are a solicitor now yourself. Have you studied the law, Lord Stanford?”
“No.”
“Well, then I think these matters are best left to those who have an intimate knowledge of the law. The court has already decided Miss Wentworth shall be considered femme sole for these proceedings. To consider her otherwise would not allow you to sue her. You cannot have it both ways, sir. That is all, my lord. I am finished with this witness.”
Victoria sat numb. She barely looked up as her father took the stand.
…
“Would you not agree, Mr. Westwood, that you had no valid right to enter into a contract that violated your daughter’s rights, that sold her like chattel to whomever would have her?”
“I had no right to make the contract. No right at all.”
Manning addressed Hugh. “My lord, it would seem the contract would be invalid on its face. Slavery and anything tainted by the concept that human beings are commodities to be bought and sold is illegal under the laws of England.”
“Thank you, Mr. Manning. The Bench is well aware of the laws of England regarding slavery.”
Victoria studied Hugh. She believed she knew him, but at this moment, when it mattered, she couldn’t read his face, couldn’t determine his leanings. She had said she loved him. That it didn’t matter what he decided as long as it wasn’t influenced by Stanford’s threats. It was time to trust him. If she couldn’t trust him, how could she say she loved him?
