“What is it, Marsali? What is wrong?” Charlotte steered Marsali away from Lady Cosgrove and over to the bed, where Marsali collapsed, face down, upon the coverlet and began sobbing anew.
For a few minutes they let her weep while the maid and Lady Cosgrove bustled about the room, readying her wedding outfit, no doubt. Marsali remembered Lydia’s silver gown and all the happiness of that other morning, and she cried more.
“You may go now. We will assist her from here,” Lady Cosgrove instructed the maid.
Marsali heard the sound of the door shutting once more and guessed that she would now receive a lecture— from both Lady Cosgrove and her sister.
Near the foot of the bed the mattress sank on either side. Reluctantly Marsali rolled over, sat up, and faced both women.
“It will get better,” Charlotte promised as she took her hand. “You simply haven’t had enough time. I still miss Matthew and love him and think of him every day, but I have learned that I must move on and make a life for myself and Alec. You have been forced to that conclusion early, that is all.”
Marsali nodded, though she did not entirely agree.
“It seems ridiculous to think that you loved Mr. Thatcher enough to warrant all this.” Lady Cosgrove waved her hand over the pile of soggy handkerchiefs next to Marsali. “You did not talk of love the day Lydia and I helped to get you ready to marry him. Why, you did not even know each other a full month. You have had twice as long to become acquainted with Mr. Vancer.”
“But Christopher and I understood each other,” Marsali tried to explain. “We had each come from difficult circumstances, and those had shaped us into the people that we are, with similar dreams and goals. We did love each other.”
“Well, you are not going to make a difficult circumstance for Mr. Vancer this morning. He stands to lose a fortune if the two of you do not marry.”
“Christopher lost a fortune by marrying me,” Marsali cried. “He gave me his only thing of value— his grandfather’s ring— and he pledged at least two years of his life working to pay off my debt. There was nothing to be gained by his actions.”
“Simply because there is something to be gained by Mr. Vancer’s does not mean he isn’t a good man,” Charlotte said. “He is fond of you and will treat you well.”
“I know.” Marsali fell back onto the pillows, exasperated that she could not make them understand the depth of her feelings. How wrong what I am about to do feels.
“If only I could stop thinking of Christopher,” she said, tears starting afresh. “But I still dream of him most every night. And when I am awake I imagine sometimes that I see him places— once on the street when Mr. Vancer and I were out driving. I even thought I saw Christopher at the masquerade ball.”
“Oh, Marsali.” Charlotte’s voice was full of empathy, not reprimand.
Lady Cosgrove let out a slow, heavy sigh, as if resigning herself to something. “You did see him at the ball,” she admitted quietly.
“What?” Charlotte exclaimed.
Marsali pushed herself up on her elbows and stared at Lady Cosgrove. “What did you say?”
“The truth.” Lady Cosgrove’s usually straight posture was now hunched, and she looked discomfited. She cleared her throat. “I fear I have done a terrible, terrible thing.”
“Only if you are lying now,” Marsali said. “Please, tell me.”
Lady Cosgrove would not meet her eye but inhaled deeply, as if gathering strength. “Do you remember our conversation one afternoon in my cabin shortly after I had recovered?”
“We had many conversations,” Marsali said, clinging to fragile hope. Just tell me of Christopher.
“I had said that I admired your willpower and determination. And you told me that I’d more strength than I gave myself credit for.” She shook her head sadly. “But you were wrong.”
“I wasn’t.” Marsali sat up and scooted closer on the bed, taking Lady Cosgrove’s hand in hers. “I remember now. I told you that when the time was right, you would reach inside yourself and find the courage and strength you needed.”
“Yes, well, I have not.” Lady Cosgrove sniffled loudly. “When I brought you here at first, I was mostly thinking of myself. I rationed that I was saving you from Mr. Thomas, but the truth was, I was not at all certain that Mr. Vancer would take me in if I could not supply him with a bride. Lydia—” Her voice caught. “—was gone. But I latched onto the idea that you could take her place.”
“But you knew that Mr. Vancer valued your friendship enough to allow you to stay, regardless of my decision or actions. I told you so myself, that first morning after I had spoken with him.”
Lady Cosgrove nodded. “Yes, but I knew I should miss your company if you left. A woman my age does not easily make friends in new circles. But with you as his bride, it was possible that I might.”
“So you kept Christopher from Marsali because you wished to be her friend?” Charlotte’s face screwed up in anger.
“I don’t understand,” Marsali said. “Is Christopher alive? Was he here?”
Lady Cosgrove continued her explanation without answering either of them. “Later, I believed I was doing what was best for you… But now I fear I have ruined more than one life with my meddling.”
“It may not be too late to mend your mistake.” Charlotte’s voice softened, and she took Lady Cosgrove’s other hand. “Was Marsali’s husband at the ball?”
Lady Cosgrove sniffed again and gave a slow nod. “Mr. Thatcher was there— and you most probably saw him on the carriage ride as well.” She glanced at Marsali, then looked down again, as if she could not bear to see the hurt she had caused. “The first time he came I led him to believe that you had died.”
“Oh, Christopher!” Marsali brought her free hand to her heart. She knew what pain she had endured these months, believing him to be dead, and he had been thinking the same of her. “Why? Why would you do such a thing? You knew I was searching the hospitals and the immigrant records daily.”
“I was thinking of you,” Lady Cosgrove insisted. “Mr. Thatcher had been seriously injured, and it appeared he would be lame for some time— perhaps permanently. I could see only a life of hardship ahead for you, if you remained his wife. I imagined you working to support not only yourself but him as well. But if you stayed with Mr. Vancer, you would never have to work, and you would have everything you ever wanted.”
“I wanted Christopher,” Marsali cried, anguished to think of Christopher not only believing her dead these many months, but physically hurt as well. “It was not your choice to make.”
“That is what he said to me the night of the ball when I confessed what I had done.” Lady Cosgrove looked up for the first time since she had started talking. “Seeing you so distraught… I realize now that I was wrong.”
“Why did Christopher not stay if you told him what you had done?” Charlotte asked the question before Marsali could.
“I convinced him that Marsali was better off with Mr. Vancer and that the two of you cared for one another. Anyone who saw you that night would have believed the same.”
Marsali groaned. “I was trying so hard to convince everyone— myself included. I was trying to embrace the future as Charlotte said I must. I was pretending so at least Mr. Vancer might be happy. I have been doing the same in the weeks since, hoping that if I pretended long enough my feelings for him might someday be true.” Knowing Christopher had seen her thus left Marsali desperate to find him and explain. To set things right.
“And so Christopher just left— without even talking to me?” Her voice had risen to an angry, frantic pitch.
“He left because he wanted to give you a better life.” Lady Cosgrove looked at Marsali imploringly and took her hand. “Mr. Thatcher realized what I already knew— that he cannot provide for you as Mr. Vancer can.”
“Where did he go?” Marsali wrenched her hand from Lady Cosgrove’s and stood. She looked around the room, trying to decide what she must do next. Wherever Chris
topher was, she must find him.
“I do not know where he went,” Lady Cosgrove said. “When he left that first time, he said he could be found in Virginia on the Thomas plantation. I suppose he went there to search for you.”
“I shall start there,” Marsali said.
“No, Marsali. You cannot,” Charlotte said. “It could be very dangerous for you.”
“What will you tell Mr. Vancer?” Lady Cosgrove asked. “He is expecting to marry you today.”
“He cannot marry her,” Charlotte proclaimed, rising from the bed as well. “She is already married. Even you must see that it is impossible for her to marry another.”
“A common-law marriage can be annulled easily enough,” Lady Cosgrove said. “And it is not as if the marriage was ever made official— in any way.”
“None of that matters. And it will not be annulled.” Marsali rushed to the armoire to retrieve her cloak. She threw it over her shoulders as she crossed the room to the dressing table. She opened the top drawer, reaching to the very back to retrieve the tiny, paper-wrapped parcel. When she had taken it from the drawer, she tore it open, then slid Christopher’s ring back on her finger. Where it belongs. Why did I ever doubt that he was alive? I felt it all along. I knew it.
Charlotte stood before the doorway. “You cannot go to Mr. Thomas’s home. It is no safer now than it was before.”
“The price for my passage has been paid,” Marsali said. “Mr. Vancer showed me the receipt himself, over two months ago. I owe Mr. Thomas nothing.”
“And what of Mr. Vancer, who fulfilled the debt?” Lady Cosgrove asked. “You would repay his kindness by abandoning him at this critical time?”
“We never should have reached this critical time had you been honest with us both,” Marsali said, anger shaking her voice. “I regret that he will be hurt, but I cannot marry him now.”
“He will lose his fortune and suffer public humiliation today,” Lady Cosgrove murmured. “Oh! Whatever have I done?”
Marsali stepped around Charlotte and opened the door. “Somehow I think he would choose both over marriage to a woman who already has a living husband.”
“Indeed I would.” Mr. Vancer stood in the hall just outside her door, his brows pinched and a most stricken expression upon his face. “Forgive me. I did not mean to eavesdrop, but having heard my name mentioned, I paused outside your door and caught the end of your conversation. I gather you are going somewhere— and it is not to our wedding.” He touched the edge of Marsali’s cloak.
“My husband is alive,” she said. “He has even been here— to your home— twice, without our knowledge. Lady Cosgrove at first told him that I was dead and then later convinced him that I was better off with you.”
“But you are not.” Mr. Vancer cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“No,” Marsali whispered and felt terrible for it. “I love him still. I must find him.”
“Of course you must.” He spoke with far more understanding than Marsali felt she deserved. Still, she could not force the worry over Christopher from her mind. He was out there somewhere— hurting. Because of her.
“This is quite the turn of events.” Mr. Vancer brought a hand to his temples and began rubbing. “In less than two hours we were to be at the church. Explaining to our guests shall be bad enough, but now I am left with only one week before the end of the year in which to find a wife. They are not easy to come by, you know.” He gave a harsh laugh.
“I am so very sorry.” Marsali touched his hand lightly. “I did not mean for this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you, and I shall find a way to repay every penny you have spent on me.”
“You may have to,” Mr. Vancer said, clearly jesting but with a trace of bitterness in his voice. “I have already made purchases and invested against the inheritance I was to receive. And now I will be unable to pay my creditors back.”
“There is a possible solution,” Lady Cosgrove suggested timidly.
“I think I have had enough of your suggestions,” Mr. Vancer said. “You accuse Marsali of repaying me poorly when you have betrayed the long-standing friendship of our families in such a manner.”
“I did not intend to.” Lady Cosgrove rose from her seat at the edge of the bed and crossed the room to the doorway. “When we arrived, I did believe Mr. Thatcher to be dead. And when it was discovered that he was not, I did not know how to tell you— I was afraid for you and your predicament and concerned for Marsali and the otherwise harsh future ahead of her.” Lady Cosgrove had crumpled a bit but straightened before adding, “And I truly believed that Mr. Thatcher had gone away for good.”
“Clearly, he has not,” Mr. Vancer said. “Nor would I, were Miss Abbott my wife.” He blew out a long breath and leaned his head back, looking up, as if seeking inspiration.
“You can still marry today,” Lady Cosgrove said. “Not Marsali, but Charlotte. There is no doubt that her husband is deceased, and she and Marsali are similar in appearance. Why, it is entirely possible that many in the congregation may not notice the difference.”
“Aside from her name,” Mr. Vancer said, clearly exasperated. “And I would rather lose a fortune than force a woman to marriage.”
“You would not have to force me,” Charlotte said quietly.
“Charlotte?” Marsali turned to her.
“I would not require much,” Charlotte continued, looking past Marsali to Mr. Vancer. “A roof over our heads and perhaps an education for Alec— when he is older. That is, of course, if you would not mind adopting a child in the bargain.”
“I— would not mind,” Mr. Vancer said. He swallowed thickly. “Are you quite certain? We know very little of each other.”
“I know that you have treated my sister kindly, and I have hope you would regard Alec and me the same.”
“I would,” Mr. Vancer said. “I will. I would be in your debt for so great a favor.”
It sounded as if they were speaking vows already. Marsali looked from one to the other, astonished at this change in circumstance.
“It is all settled, then,” Lady Cosgrove said squaring her shoulders. “Perhaps all will yet be well— for all concerned. Come, Charlotte. You must be readied for your wedding. And, Mr. Vancer, I believe Miss Abbott is in need of a carriage.”
“Yes— please.” I need Christopher.
“Godspeed, sister.” Charlotte embraced Marsali. “If you insist upon going to Mr. Thomas’s, make the driver wait. I shall give you the name of my employer, and perhaps you can take my place there. They should be happy to have a woman without a child tagging along as she does her work.”
“Thank you,” Marsali said. “I shall write to let you know what has become of me.”
“You will do more than that,” Mr. Vancer said. “You shall have an escort, so your sister and I will not fear for your safety.”
“Thank you for your kindness and understanding,” Marsali said. “If circumstances had been different…”
He smiled sadly. “But they are not, and you must go and find your Mr. Thatcher. I hope that when you do, he realizes how fortunate he is.”
January 1829
Christopher rose before dawn, ate a hasty breakfast at the inn, and went out to the stables to saddle his newly purchased horse.
“Good morning, Amanda May.” He stroked the mare, and she bent her head, nuzzling his hand. “No treats today,” Christopher said. “But you help me reach Marsali, and I’ll get you a bucket of the finest oats.” He’d named the horse after Captain Gower’s ship in the hope that she— as the voyage had— would bring him good luck in finding Marsali.
He’d bought the horse just last week, after his sisters’ letter had arrived, and with it a bank draft to equal the next five years of the inheritance left them by their grandfather. Neither of his sisters needed the money, and they insisted he was to have it, both to aid in the search for his wife and to start anew in America. In the past he might have argued against such assistance, but the second letter included in th
e bundle had changed his mind— about everything.
He saddled the mare and climbed up, then left the inn at a brisk speed, eager for the day for the first time in a long time.
He’d lived these past months in a bitter haze, angry at the world and mostly himself for falling prey to the complications of a woman. He hadn’t wanted a wife to begin with, but he’d ended up with one anyway. And then he had lost her, and that had hurt worse than his burns or the wound that had nearly split his scalp. The healing took longer too. Well into the new year he still hadn’t managed it.
But included in the packet from his family had been Marsali’s letter to them— her anguish poured out for him to read personally. What a horrifying experience she’d lived that night of the shipwreck. And she hadn’t forgotten him after all. She had searched for weeks. She had shed tears and mourned and hoped and then finally lost that hope. She had believed him alive as long as she could, until the same deception that had tricked him had convinced her that he was dead.
The road forked, and Christopher stayed to the right. From here he had less than twenty miles to travel. And Marsali would be at the end of those.
If only he had not listened to Lady Cosgrove the night of the ball. He and Marsali could have been together these two months. Instead, she had been working at her sister’s old post in Virginia. Charlotte had taken Marsali’s place at the church and married Mr. Vancer in December.
Christopher had learned all of this from Lady Cosgrove and Charlotte when he had called, one last time, at the Vancer house four days ago. Since then he had traveled over frozen rivers and through bitter cold, eager to get to Marsali as soon as he could.
The miles passed as he lost himself in his thoughts. His gloved hands felt frozen as they gripped the reins, and his new wool cap and coat could not do enough to keep him warm. The winter seemed as fierce as the autumn had been mild. But spring… Spring will be glorious. A promise of dreams hoped for— and fulfilled.
Marrying Christopher (A Hearthfire Romance Book 3) Page 34
