The Wary Widow

by Jerrica Knight-Catania

  And then her heart broke into a million pieces.

  ***

  That night, Andrew walked into his London townhouse following a harrowing day in the carriage. After Chloe had so cruelly turned him away, he returned to the inn, collected his things and set off for the city. But the sky opened up only minutes after his departure, slowing the trip tremendously, and then an axel had broken on one of the wheels. He and his driver spent the better part of an hour fixing it in the pouring rain.

  So, when he finally arrived home, he was sore and damp and his heart was heavy. Chloe’s words echoed painfully in his head, over and over, threatening to drive him insane.

  And he continued to ask himself why. Why did she lie and say she did not love him? Why, when he put his heart at her feet, did she turn him away?

  Why were women so damned emotional?

  “Good evening, my lord.” Deane greeted him at the door and took his wet hat and coat.

  “Is my brother at home?” he asked, hearing the weariness in his own voice.

  “Just arrived, my lord. I believe you will find him in the study.”

  With a nod of thanks, Andrew strode down the hall and into the study. Michael sat in the leather armchair by the fire, scotch in one hand and a newssheet in the other. It was a familiar scene, with the familiar smell of home—burning wood, spirits and leather—but somehow it wasn't as comforting to be there as Andrew had hoped.

  “Back already?” Michael asked without so much as a hello.

  “It would appear that way.” Andrew shrugged out of his jacket and threw it over the sofa before pouring his own glass of whisky.

  Michael put down his reading material and leaned forward in his seat as Andrew took the chair opposite.

  “What’s happened?” His tone had turned grave.

  Andrew supposed that was the one good thing about being a twin—they oftentimes did not need to speak to understand what the other was feeling.

  He nosed the scotch, taking in the spicy flavors, before taking a long, cleansing swig, and then set the glass on the side table. Staring into the fire, he recounted the events of the past several days to his brother. But when he got to that morning’s encounter, it was all he could do to keep himself together. He wanted to scream, to cry, to hit something—anything to ease his pain.

  Michael listened patiently until he was finished and then asked, “What will you do?”

  Andrew gave a sardonic chuckle. “You ask the question as if I have any choice in the matter.”

  “We always have the ability to choose, Andrew.”

  “No, brother, that is where you are wrong. I did choose—I chose Chloe the minute I followed her into that tree house, but alas it didn’t matter, did it?”

  “Yes, but you could choose to not go through with your marriage to Elizabeth.”

  “And ruin her reputation?”

  “You were going to anyhow, in order to be with Chloe.”

  “Well, that was for a good cause, wasn’t it? Now it would be for naught. I would end up marrying a woman I didn’t love regardless, so why shouldn’t it be Elizabeth?”

  “It’s a rather cynical way of looking at it, don’t you think?”

  Andrew shook his head. “I’m not sure there is any other way to look at it.”

  ***

  Chloe curled up in the chair next to her sister’s bed and watched her sleep, grateful for the progress she’d made in just one short day. She’d even taken in several cups of broth throughout the course of the afternoon and evening. Chloe smiled down at her sister’s angelic face, but her smile quickly turned to tears when her thoughts shifted to Andrew.

  She tried to muffle her sobs as best she could, but Gracie stirred anyhow. She opened her eyes and Chloe immediately sought to compose herself. It wouldn’t do to upset her sister in her current state.

  “Chloe? What’s the matter?” Gracie whispered. “I’m not dead, am I?”

  Chloe couldn’t help but laugh at her sister’s dark attempt at humor. “No, of course not!” Her voice was thick and throaty from the tears.

  “Then whatever are you blubbering about?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing really,” Chloe said, and then, eager to change the subject, asked, “Do you need anything? Are you feeling all right?”

  “I’m fine, but I want to know what’s wrong with you.” Gracie stared up at her, waiting. When Chloe didn’t answer, she said, “It’s that gentleman, isn’t it?”

  Chloe’s eyes widened at the mention of Andrew. How did she even know of him, she wondered?

  “Well, I suppose it has a little do with him. But, please, Gracie, I would rather not speak about it just now,” she pleaded with her sister.

  “I understand.” Gracie moved to prop herself up further on her pillows and Chloe jumped up to help. “Though, I confess I am desperate to know the details.”

  “Well, details you shall not hear...at least not until you’re eighteen.”

  “That’s only a few months away, Clo. Don’t you think you could make an exception?”

  “Time flies, dear one,” Chloe replied.

  “You are cruel, aren’t you?”

  Grace’s words were meant to be a jest, but they struck a rather sharp chord with Chloe. She was cruel. She’d been more than cruel to Andrew, and it pained her greatly to recall the look upon his face just before he walked away. Tears began to well in her eyes again.

  “Have I said something wrong?” Gracie asked quietly.

  “No.” Chloe shook her head. “It isn’t your fault. I just...”

  Gracie reached over and took Chloe’s hand. “Will you sleep with me tonight?” she asked.

  Chloe looked up at her sister. What a dear, sweet thing she was.

  “No, dear, you need your rest-”

  “Please,” Grace begged. “Mama changed the sheets this afternoon, and I promise I’ll sleep better with you next to me. Just like when we were younger.”

  Chloe’s heart filled with love at her sister’s request. How lucky she was to have her in her life. And how lucky they all were for Andrew’s generosity, without which Gracie might not be here at all.

  Ignoring the wrenching in her gut at the thought of Andrew, she climbed into bed with her sister and blew out the candle. But she did not sleep. She thought she might never sleep again after what she’d done that morning, for it was bound to haunt her for the rest of her life.

  Twenty

  The weeks passed with painful slowness for Chloe. She fell back into life with her family in the country, feeding pigs, collecting eggs and looking after her sister. Gracie’s health returned slowly, and nearly two months after the day her fever broke, she was begging to be allowed to attend the local assembly.

  “Gracie, I don’t think you’re ready.” Chloe silently assessed her sister’s pallor as she often did these days. Her sister's cheeks were rosy again, but she still wheezed from overexertion on occasion.

  “Please, Chloe, look at me!” Gracie practically whined. “I’m fine. And I’ve been healthy enough to help with household chores. A country dance will hardly put me back on my death bed.”

  “Don’t call it that,” Chloe admonished. “You know I hate it when you say that.”

  “Sorry.” Gracie picked a small yellow flower from the path and twirled it under her chin. “Have you heard from your gentleman?”

  Chloe stopped walking long enough to throw a scathing glance at her sister and then continued on again. She had not in fact heard from Andrew, but she had heard from Lizzie. It appeared that all was well in her world and that the wedding would still take place at the beginning of autumn. She missed Chloe immensely and begged her to please come back and be her chaperone. Apparently, her father had hired an old, curmudgeonly spinster to take her place, and she’d not been allowed a private moment with Andrew since the woman’s arrival.

  Chloe smiled at the thought. She knew it was wicked of her to rejoice in her cousin’s misery, but she couldn’t help herself. And she hoped that Andr
ew, likewise, was glad of the circumstance.

  Not that it mattered. In less than two weeks, they would be married, and any hopes Chloe may have harbored in regard to Andrew would be squashed, like a melon beneath a wagon wheel.

  Chloe shook her head. There was no point dwelling on what would never be.

  “So, will you come with me?” Gracie asked, coming up beside her. “I promise not to dance more than you.”

  “You may dance as much as your health will allow,” Chloe returned.

  “Then you will come!” Gracie did a little skip along the lane, her smile wide and infectious.

  “Yes, but you must promise to be mindful of your state, Gracie! I won’t have you taking ill again.”

  Gracie promised and then practically dragged Chloe all the way back to the house. The entire family decided they would attend in order to keep a close eye on Grace, but the truth was that the assembly dances were the most exciting things that ever happened in their tiny parish.

  Even Chloe looked forward to the evening. Perhaps it would take her mind from Andrew for once, and lift her, even if only for a moment, from the despair that had consumed her since the day he left.

  After a light supper, and after tucking Cassie and Jonathan into their beds, the family set off on foot to the local assembly hall. They laughed and teased as siblings often do, enjoying the warm mid-summer weather and the setting sun. When they arrived at their destination, the hall brimmed with parishioners, decked out in their finest country attire.

  Chloe couldn’t help but compare the modest gathering to the lavish balls she’d attended in London. Rather than the sophisticated aroma of expensive perfume and hot house flowers, she was accosted with the smell of sweat and rotting wood. But she ignored the little twinge in her heart at the thought of a London ball and pasted on a lively smile, determined to have a good time with her family and neighbors.

  Within minutes, though, her family had abandoned her for more interesting pursuits. Her mother joined up with the other matrons who gathered like hens at the edge of the dance floor. Her father went off to the card room and her brothers pounced upon the first eligible young ladies they could find for a dance.

  And Gracie, of course, had skipped off with her young friends to gawk and giggle at the handsome gentlemen in attendance.

  Chloe sighed. Some things never changed, she imagined. No matter whether she was at an elegant ball in London or a country dance in Essex, she somehow always found herself alone.

  Resigned to her fate, she took a glass of lemonade from the refreshment table and found a seat amongst the other wallflowers. She watched her brothers dance, and she had to admit they were quite good; both lithe, but manly, like real gentlemen.

  Once she bored of watching the dancers, she resorted to picking loose threads out of her skirt. She’d left all of her new dresses in London and not bothered to send for them, so she was left with old dresses that had already been passed down to Gracie, and were rather worse for the wear.

  “I daresay you could make a whole new skirt from the pile of threads by your feet.”

  Chloe looked up to see a young man standing beside her, watching her with a great deal of amusement. Embarrassed, she smoothed her hands over her skirts and tried to compose herself.

  “It isn’t polite to poke fun, sir,” she said, trying to smile in spite of herself.

  “Please accept my apologies, Mrs. Hawthorne.”

  Confused, she blinked up at the man. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

  He took the seat next to her. “You did...once. Long ago.”

  Chloe narrowed her eyes and took a good look at the man beside her. He had overgrown sideburns and shaggy hair, but when she looked closely, she could see the boy she once knew. “Louis!” she exclaimed, hardly able to believe it. “I thought you ran off to Scotland. What are you doing back in England?”

  Louis’s expression turned grim. “I’m afraid my grand plans for Eleanor and myself came to an abrupt end when she passed away a year ago.”

  “Oh, Louis, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “Yes, well, it was a long time ago.” He turned his attention from the dance floor and focused his hazel eyes on Chloe. “And what of you and Sam?”

  Chloe gave him a half smile. “Sam died, Louis.”

  Louis’s face turned suddenly sober and Chloe wished she had thought to soften the blow a bit. “I thought for sure you would have heard. Didn’t your parents...” She cut off, remembering the circumstances under which he had left England in the first place.

  Louis chuckled. “No, certainly not. Although, they offered a warmer reception than expected when I returned home a few weeks ago.” There was a pause, and then, “What of Sam's family? Do you see them?”

  Chloe shook her head. “I used to. The months after he died, I visited often, but the visits became fewer and fewer, though I can't say why.”

  “They must have been devastated.”

  “Yes, I imagine losing any child would be difficult. Losing your only child...So you will stay in Essex?” Chloe asked, changing the subject. She hoped she sounded merely like an interested friend and not an eager schoolgirl. She didn’t want to give Louis the wrong impression.

  He had been a good friend to Sam, and they shared many memories, the three of them. But Sam had been her love, the one she wanted to marry, and Louis had not-so-gracefully bowed out of the race for her hand all those years ago. As a result of his broken heart, he took up with a girl barely out of the schoolroom from the next town over and ran away with her. He kept in touch with Sam for a while, but eventually the correspondence had come to an end. Sam assumed that Louis had become too busy with his life in Scotland to care, but who knew the truth? It seemed Louis had his own set of problems to deal with.

  “My father is ill, so I’ve little choice in the matter. I have to take care of my family.”

  “And what of your life in Scotland? Did you not have anyone to care for there?”

  Louis shook his head. “No, not anymore. But let us turn to happier topics, shall we?” he suggested, bringing a bright smile to his face. “How about a dance, Mrs. Hawthorne?”

  Chloe hesitated, but then realized it was either dance or continue to defile her dress. “That would be lovely, Louis, as long as you promise to stop calling me Mrs. Hawthorne.”

  With an exaggerated bow, he said, “May I have this dance, Chloe?”

  She took his hand and he led her to the floor to join in the line of dancers in a rigorous country dance. They weaved in and out, laughing like children, and Chloe felt a genuine smile come to her lips for the first time in ages.

  The dance progressed, and Chloe danced with more and more eagerness as it did, determined to dance away the pain of the last months. Faces began to blur before her, colors and music overloaded her senses. A heat started at her toes and slowly crept up her body until she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Her skin felt cool all of a sudden, though she was damp with sweat.

  “Mrs. Hawthorne?” she heard Louis say. “Chloe, are you all right?”

  But before she could answer, Chloe’s world turned to black.

  ***

  “Andrew. Andrew, pay attention, darling, please!”

  Andrew snapped from his daydream to find his betrothed staring at him with a look of disdain.

  “I’m sorry, dear,” he said absently. “I guess I’m a little distracted today.”

  “Today?” she repeated with a snort. “You’ve been distracted for weeks. Are you sure there’s nothing you wish to discuss with me? Perhaps I can help you with whatever it is that’s distracting you.”

  Andrew almost choked at the suggestion. What on earth would Elizabeth say if she knew the truth? She would have his bullocks on a platter, he was sure. No, there was no need to disclose what had happened all those weeks ago with Chloe. It would only hurt Elizabeth, and he stood to gain nothing from it, other than to relieve his own conscience.

  “I assure you, I’m quite all right,” he repli
ed, forcing a smile.

  “Well, if you’re sure...” Elizabeth stood and moved to sit next to him on the sofa. She sidled up close and batted her eyelashes, clearly looking for a bit of affection.

  “Mrs. Spitz has left us alone,” she whispered, pointing out the obvious.

  Uncomfortable, and overwhelmed by her potent floral perfume, Andrew inched backwards. “Yes, but she’s sure to return soon, and I would hate to meet with the woman’s cane.”

  Elizabeth gave a shrill laugh. “Mrs. Spitz couldn’t hurt a fly! Come now, darling, just a little kiss...please.”

  Andrew swallowed, unsure of how to proceed. He’d done a fine job of avoiding Elizabeth’s advances up until now, but she was becoming more and more determined with every minute that passed. Eventually, he would have to kiss her, and of course, bed her. But it didn’t feel right. It would never feel right—not after Chloe.

  His gut clenched painfully at the thought of her. He wondered what she was doing just then. Perhaps kneading bread in their tiny kitchen or gathering eggs from the hens. Or maybe she was sitting alone in the tree house, remembering that blissful afternoon they’d spent together there.

  That’s what he was doing—whether he wanted to or not. He thought of that afternoon almost constantly. He could still smell her, taste her, feel her hands on his chest and buttocks.

  “Andrew, what is the matter with you?”

  He snapped from his thoughts to realize that Elizabeth stared at him with a fair amount of frustration. Her eyes were wide and angry, and her lips pursed into a straight line.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “No, Andrew, sorry isn’t good enough anymore,” she said, her voice rising in anger. “I’ve tolerated this long enough. Ever since Michael came back from the country, you’ve been a different man. You’ve stopped showing me any sort of affection — you won’t even kiss my cheek, for heaven’s sake!”

  “Elizabeth, please, I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

  “I thought that night in the garden counted for something, Andrew.”

  That got Andrew’s full attention, and he realized there were tears in Elizabeth’s eyes. Dear God, what had Michael done while he was away? He was supposed to have looked after her, and made her think he was him. Not defile the girl that was to be his wife.