by Joan Avery
“I find that Miss Westwood was not complicit in the agreement entered into by her father. I further rule that any such contract is invalid in its own right. It puts women in a position little better than slavery, which was long ago outlawed as unconscionable. The concept of femme sole should be applied to Miss Westwood. The money she has been given by her father is hers to deal with in her own right. I have drawn up my arguments and will see they are provided to both parties. Any plans to appeal this decision must be presented to this court in the next fortnight.”
He rose and nodded to his clerk, who followed him out of the room.
Victoria looked over to where Stanford sat. His face was drained of color. There was something else happening as well. His anger was rising. Victoria had been its victim before. She knew the signs well.
Lord Stanford rose and leaned over to whisper in her ear. “This is not over. I will see you two ruined so that you will not be able to walk the streets of London. Do not think you are safe from my wrath. I will haunt your days and fill your nights with terror. Do you understand me?”
Victoria didn’t answer the vile man. Evidently he didn’t expect an answer for he had immediately pushed his way through the throng toward the door.
Her father approached the table. “What did he say?”
“He has threatened to destroy us.”
“You mean you and I?”
“No, the judge and I.”
“Is that possible?” her father asked.
“Yes, it is more than possible.” She didn’t offer an explanation but rose to go.
Most of the crowd had left. The reporters were eager to print their stories. No doubt the onlookers were eager to spread the news as well.
“Miss Westwood, Lord Montgomery has asked that I deliver this to you.” Hugh’s clerk presented the small handwritten note to Victoria.
Victoria opened it and read the three lines inside.
“What is it?”
“Nothing, Father. Will you drop me off at the Percys’ on your way home?”
…
Victoria entered the home to find Henry anxiously awaiting her. He took her cloak and indicated the library. Victoria had to prevent herself from running. She entered the room and didn’t stop until she was in Hugh’s arms.
She was sobbing and laughing and terrified all at once.
“Shhh. Shhh. It will work out.”
“How can it?” She raised her head. “I’m so afraid for you. He cannot hurt me anymore than he has. But you, you have risked everything.”
“I have not risked the one thing I cherish above all else.”
He kissed her then. Kissed her until she was breathless and moist with anticipation.
“For now, it is best we are not seen together. Tomorrow we should know the worst of it. Henry and Edith will support us. I don’t know how many others.” He paused for a moment. “Is your father still at your home?”
“Yes.” He still held her close.
“Good. Stay at home with him. Do not go out. Wait for me. I will come to you tomorrow. Let’s see what Stanford has planned. We can then decide what we should do.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
“I don’t want to leave you. But if by chance he relents, I don’t want to create a new scandal.”
“Do you think he will relent? Do you think it’s possible he won’t attempt to destroy us both in the press and public opinion?” Victoria searched his eyes for any hope, any hope at all.
“No. The man will try his hardest to hurt us any way he can.”
Chapter Forty-Six
The next day, a small crowd gathered near the river in the East End of London. Several uniformed police tried to keep the onlookers at bay. Corpses pulled from the river were a fairly common occurrence in this rough neighborhood of the city.
But the word on the street was this was out of the ordinary. It wasn’t the usual drunk or hooligan being pulled from the cold water of the Thames. The whispers started as soon as the body was retrieved. He was dressed like a gentleman.
Hugh stood on the outskirts of the crowd. For the first time in his life, he had used his connections to keep track of what was happening in London’s underworld, fearful Stanford might try to harm Victoria. Word had come only an hour before of a body that had been found in the Thames in the East End.
The large crowd strained to see the body. Among them was a small man with a limp and a smile.
One of the coppers addressed the crowd. “Is there anyone here who can identify this gentleman? Seems mighty fine to be in this neighborhood. One of you must have seen him.”
“Maybe he washed down from upriver,” an observer offered.
“Unlikely with the tide comin’ in as it is.” The officer surveyed the crowd. “I knowed there be more than one of you that could have done the act yourselves. I’m not askin’ you to confess. Just want to know where to send the body.”
“I think that there be Lord Stanford,” the small man said.
“And how would you be knowin’ that, I wonder?” The police officer looked at the cripple.
“He’s been in the papers, Officer. He and that American woman.”
The officer took a second look at the dead man. “Damned, but I think you’re right,” he said, his face bright with this new explanation.
“No doubt the poor man took his own life after losin’ a fortune yesterday in court,” someone called out.
The officer nodded.
Hugh looked over to his clerk, and Dennison moved close enough to confirm the identity of the dead man. Hugh, meanwhile, turned his head to follow the departure of the man who had identified the body. The man’s limp slowed his progress. But the smirk on his face said more than enough. When he passed a darkened doorway, he nodded his satisfaction to a bearlike bully boy who was half-hidden in the gloom.
It took little imagination to figure out what had happened to Lord Stanford. Hugh found he couldn’t muster much sympathy for the man. Instead, a huge sense of relief washed over him.
…
“Please sit down, Victoria. You are making me anxious as well.”
“I’m sorry, Father. I can’t stand to be cooped up like this.”
“You act as if you are anticipating something. Is there something I should know? Something you haven’t told me?”
Victoria stopped her pacing. She should tell her father about Hugh, but she didn’t know what Lord Stanford might be planning. She still hadn’t heard from Hugh, and she could barely stand the tension.
A knock on the door made her jump. She didn’t wait for Mrs. McCreery but rushed to open it herself. A messenger stood with a note in his hand. She offered him a coin and took the note.
She recognized the handwriting. After ripping it open quickly, she read intently. Tears welled up in her eyes. It was the answer to all their problems. An answer that had never entered her mind. Hugh wrote he suspected Stanford’s creditors had settled their debt in the most brutal way.
“Father, I’m going out—for a walk in the park.”
“In this weather, my dear. Are you sure?”
“Oh yes. It is beautiful out today.” She grabbed her cloak and was out the door before her father could question her any further.
She headed into the deserted park toward the lake, The Serpentine. It had grown remarkably colder, but she didn’t notice. The fog had lifted slightly, only to be replaced by snow. Large flakes of it nestled in her hair and eyelashes.
She didn’t care. She almost ran in her hurry.
She stood by the edge of the lake, her shoes damp from the snow that lay unmelted on the grass.
They were here. The swans. The ones that mated for life and returned over and over to the same place. They skimmed across the water. When one stopped, the other waited. They made a barely discernable buzzing sound as if in quiet conversation. A conversation without words. Compatibility without thought.
Suddenly, behind her, his hands raised the soft fur of her cloak until it
caressed her face. She smiled. Then he folded his arms around her, and she leaned back into his warmth. They didn’t have to speak. Didn’t have to communicate beyond this touch.
The swans eventually swam off, leaving a small wake. She watched them thoughtfully.
She no longer envied them.
She was content.
In Hugh’s arms, in his warmth, she was beyond content.
Epilogue
“I can’t imagine what’s delaying my father,” Victoria said.
“It must be something important.” Edith held her newborn as the nursemaid hovered nearby. “Shall I send Henry out to look for him?”
“No, no. We have waited this long; we can wait a few more minutes. I’m sure he will be along shortly. Would you mind telling Hugh? I don’t want him to think I’ve changed my mind,” she said with a soft laugh.
“Of course, my dear. Of course.” Edith handed the child off to the nursemaid and followed them out of the room.
What could possibly have delayed her father? He had promised he would be here and had left the house before her. For a moment she worried. So much had passed since that day in court when her life had changed forever. He had been so happy for her. Had something happened to him? Perhaps she should send someone to look for him.
There was a commotion outside the door. She heard her father’s voice and relaxed. He was here.
She turned back to the mirror and adjusted her dress one last time. She wanted it perfect, but when the door opened, all that was forgotten.
“Emily!”
She ran to her friend and embraced her. “I can’t believe you are here. When did you arrive?”
“Just yesterday. I had to be here. I’m so happy for you.”
Victoria searched her friends face for anything untoward, but Emily seemed to have recovered fully from the tragedy that had marred her life. In fact she glowed.
“You look happy as well. Has something happened?”
Emily blushed, and the color in her cheeks completed the picture of her contentment.
“You must tell me,” Victoria said, shaking her friend slightly.
“You will think me coldhearted.” Emily lowered her head.
“I could never think that of you.” Victoria thought for a moment and then realized what had made such a remarkable change in her friend. “You have met someone.”
Emily looked up. Her smile lit the room. “He is a wonderful man. He does not care what may have happened in the past. He is so kind and supportive. Mother and Father have said I must wait until it is a full year before we make any plans. He is more than willing to wait. We hope to marry at Christmas, and you must come.”
“You must tell me more about him.” Victoria clasped Emily to her breast once more.
“His name is Patrick Whiton. He is a surgeon and well regarded by his peers. He is young and very handsome.” Emily laughed.
“And what do your parents think of him?” Victoria wondered if they had learned their lesson in meddling with their daughter’s life by arranging a tragic marriage for her.
“That is what’s so remarkable. They have had no objections beyond requesting we wait. They have allowed him to call on me, even though I am still in mourning. I can’t believe I could be so lucky as to find love this quickly.”
Victoria smiled. “I can. Anyone would be lucky to marry you.”
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Victoria’s father opened the door.
Emily gave her friend a light hug. “But I should go.” She held Victoria back to admire her dress. “You look wonderful.”
“Thank you, my dear, dear friend.”
“Are you ready?” her father asked.
“Yes,” she responded.
He offered his arm, and they walked slowly out.
…
“Well, you seem calm enough,” Henry joked with his friend. “But then I have seen very little ruffle you.”
A slight noise at the back caused them to look up.
“Except maybe that.” Henry clapped his friend on the back.
Hugh stood motionless at the altar of St. Paul’s. The beautiful church was quiet except for the Percy brood, who squirmed in their seats and whispered about Victoria’s appearance.
Hugh had never seen her look more beautiful. They had waited six months. And the wait had been unbearable. But the gossipmongers had moved on to other things. A quiet midweek wedding attended by a small group of people had attracted little attention.
She walked alone. Her father had just installed himself in a front pew. If he was disappointed to not be walking her down the aisle, he didn’t show it. He, no doubt, knew his obstinate daughter well.
Hugh noted she had chosen to wear white, a trend set by Queen Victoria. It was very au courant. He smiled. With her dark coloring, she certainly put the dear queen to shame. The Emile Pingat gown was a masterpiece of satin and taffeta. Adorned with beading and fabric roses, it even outshone the magnificent interior of St. Paul’s. She wore a veil. It had been pulled forward to cover her face and trailed behind her for several feet. He couldn’t believe how quickly she had changed his life, bringing joy and comfort where there had been merely forebearance.
When she reached a point at the foot of the steps, Edith rose and helped her move back her veil, and then remained as a witness.
Hugh offered Victoria his hand, and she took it.
“Are you ready, my love?” he asked.
“Beyond ready.” She smiled broadly, and his heart sang.
Suddenly the baby began to cry and several of the younger children scrambled after Edith. Soon they stood as a little herd before the priest. Hugh and Victoria, Henry and Edith, and all nine of their children with their assorted nursemaids. And her father and Emily.
Victoria laughed. “I think we had best make it quick.”
Hugh laughed as well. Somehow this remarkable woman was the reason for so much of the happiness that now encompassed his life. And he was beyond grateful to her.
“Thank you,” he said without explanation.
She replied with a magnificent smile, “You’re welcome.”
About the Author
Joan Avery was an award-winning writer/producer at a major national advertising agency for over fifteen years before she “retired” to raise a family and write. Joan has been blessed with a daughter, two sons, and two stepsons. She and her husband now have five grandchildren. Although she has lived in the Detroit area her entire life, she has traveled extensively for both work and leisure. She and her husband, an attorney, have visited many fascinating parts of the world. Joan feels her travels enrich her writing. THE WORTH BROTHER’S TRILOGY takes place in three of her favorite places.
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