He sent Julia a sideways glance, trying to discern what she was thinking. Often the mention of a parent’s suicide was enough to make people want to distance themselves. After all, madness was believed to run in families. But her expression was soft, filled with compassion.
“I can see now why you were so hesitant to discuss your family with me,” she said. “I’m sorry for the things you suffered. What did you do after he died?”
“It soon became clear that we’d have to sell everything we owned, and not even that would cover all my father’s debts. The scandal of his death, the whispers of madness and suicide, made us outcasts in society as surely as the loss of money had. This was hardest on Corinna. My mother had a connection to the aristocracy through a first cousin. That, plus my father’s wealth, would have been enough to gain Corinna an invitation to be presented at court. But all that was lost. To this day, she’s never gotten over it.”
Julia nodded thoughtfully. “That explains a lot of things.”
“About why Corinna acts as she does? Yes, I suppose it does.”
“Yet she seems to have done very well for herself.”
“She married David within a year of my father’s death. Like my father, he was a self-made man with no social connections. I was ready to go out and earn my keep, of course, but David insisted on paying my way to finish at Harrow and go on to university. He knew how much that meant to Corinna as well as me. He adores her. Heaven knows why.”
“Some men are drawn to feisty women.”
He heard the teasing in her voice. He loved how the corners of her mouth made a little downward turn just before they lifted in a smile. “Yes, I suppose they are.”
After sharing these terrible stories, to be making even this hint of a joke was a good thing. A sign that the burden, if not entirely lifted, had at least eased a little.
The sun was waning now, casting longer shadows in the park. As Julia looked at him, smiling, Michael’s thoughts began to move in a different direction. He wanted nothing more than to close that very short distance between them and kiss her. He felt his own heart skitter at the thought, and he fought to catch his breath. How would she respond? Would it ruin this moment of understanding between them, or seal the bond?
He was going to find out.
Michael placed his right arm along the bench behind her back, resting it there but not touching her, and waited for her reaction. He’d telegraphed his intention clearly enough. Her lips parted slightly in surprise. He ran a finger along her cheek, lightly tracing those lovely freckles. She shivered at his touch, but he knew it was with pleasure. He saw it in the way she returned his gaze.
He didn’t move, not just yet. The anticipation was unbearable, but he took time to savor it anyway, drinking in the sight of those full lips. He knew the import of the irrevocable step he was about to take. He knew there would be consequences. He chose instead to think only of the reasons his heart was telling him why this was right.
Whatever nervousness Julia felt, she handled it in typical Julia fashion—by meeting it head on. She leaned in, closing the gap herself. Taking hold of his coat lapels to pull him closer, she pressed her lips to his.
Oh yes, he loved this woman. He knew it without a doubt. He could guess that she’d never been kissed before, and yet she was so bold, as though she were claiming this kiss. Claiming him. He could feel her pouring herself into it, and he responded in kind. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close, reveling in the elation that overwhelmed him.
How much time passed before they parted, breathless, Michael could not have said. It pained him to stop, although he found immediate solace in the pleasure of looking at her. She gazed at him wonderingly, her eyes reflecting the same amazed joy that he was feeling.
“Julia.” He didn’t know what to say next. He only knew that he loved the sound of her name. Loved being able to speak it out loud.
He was not prepared to hear her say, “Michael, what . . . does this mean?”
Michael’s eyebrows lifted. “I think it’s pretty clear what this means.” His eyes were gray and intense, but his mouth held a hint of a smile. “I think you know, too, as you are the one who kissed me.”
It was true. She had kissed him. Not only invited it but acted impulsively to ensure it happened. And she’d done it shamelessly, right here in this public place. Thank heaven the birds and squirrels were the only ones who’d witnessed it. She sent a quick glance around just to be sure. They were indeed alone.
“Not that I minded at all,” Michael continued, reaching out to take hold of her hands. “I am discovering I rather like bold women.”
This compliment only caused her heart to sink even more. How could she have done this? She knew full well it had not been entirely her idea. He had intended to kiss her. But she had foolishly jumped in, wanting so badly to know what it would be like to kiss him. Now she knew: it was so rich, so wonderful that it went into realms beyond description. And that was a big problem.
This was most definitely not in her plans. It could not mesh with everything she’d been striving for. Michael, too, had dreams he was pursuing with equal vigor. Dreams that were in no way compatible with her own.
He began caressing her hands, distracting her, clouding her mind when she desperately needed it to be clear. Why could she not pull her hands away? Her body was rejecting all orders from her brain. “That was wrong of me,” she insisted.
“Why?” he challenged. “Why was it wrong?”
“Because you are going to marry Laura Maynard.”
“No!” he responded vehemently. “I don’t deny I was pursuing the match. But there have been no promises made. Somewhere, deep in my soul, I knew it was not right.”
She shook her head, wishing there were some way to calm the wild beating of her heart. “But your plans—your career and mine. I cannot reconcile them.”
Placing a hand gently on the back of her neck, he tugged her closer. “This is how we reconcile them.”
He kissed her this time. She might have stopped it, but she could not bring herself to pull away. The need to kiss him was irresistible; the pleasure it brought was too good to deny.
When they parted again, he drew her into an embrace. She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth as they sat in silence. But before long, worries began to press through the happiness.
“Surely one day you will regret this,” she said.
“Never. We are right for each other, Julia, despite what you or I or anyone else might think.”
She pulled away. “Then I will regret this. I can’t turn my back on the things God has called me to do.”
He looked confused. “I’m trying my best to understand your faith, to understand God. If He is as good as you say, how can He be such an ogre as to deny two people who are in love?”
In love.
She must have repeated the words aloud, or perhaps her expression showed how deeply she’d been struck by what he’d just said, for he answered her.
“Yes, Julia, I love you,” he declared. “Tell me you love me, too. I know you do.”
Julia could not speak right away. Her mind scrambled to make sense of how, exactly, they had come to be in this situation. She had purposely drawn near to him, benefitting from the Latin lessons and thinking that by spending time with him, she might find some way to help the school. Or to help him. She never dreamed he would embed himself so deeply in her heart.
As the silence grew, a glimmer of doubt appeared in his eyes. Honesty won out, for Julia could not hurt him with a lie. She said soberly, “Yes, I love you.”
He stood up, bringing her with him, planting a gleeful kiss on her cheek. “My love, it is customary to smile at times like this.”
“But this still doesn’t change our circumstances,” she protested.
“On the contrary, it changes things very much. And what hasn’t changed, will.”
He tried to kiss her again, but this time she stepped back. She did not like doing so,
not when everything within her wished to do the opposite, but as unpleasant as it was, someone had to think clearly. “Michael, it can’t work. We have been brought together for this brief time, but it won’t last. Our lives will be going in opposite directions.”
“You don’t have to go to Africa to practice medicine.”
“I do in order to be a missionary. I cannot abandon God’s calling.”
He turned his gaze away, frowning. Despite his earlier words, he still did not understand her devotion to a spiritual life. Nor could she comprehend—or accept—a life without God at the center of it.
“The important thing is to trust God and to keep Him first. If we compromise on that, we will never get to the right answer.”
Michael rubbed his eyes, his frustration evident. “So then what do we do?”
“We cannot trust feelings only. I once heard a saying: ‘Decisions made in the heat of the night fade in the cold light of dawn.’”
It seemed appropriate to say that now, as dusk was rapidly approaching.
“My love for you is not going to fade,” he said. “I promise you that.”
“Since you are convinced, you will not mind if I suggest that we both take several days to think things over—separately.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “So that we can try to talk ourselves out of it? It won’t happen.”
“In that case, a few days won’t matter,” she insisted. She was not going to back down on this stipulation. “And not just to think, but to pray.”
He recoiled at the word. It was ever so slight, but Julia saw it.
“If you are seeking to understand, start with prayer. The Lord said, ‘Seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.’ He was talking about spiritual insight.”
It was only a fraction of the things she wished she could share with him, but it was a start. She was heartened to see him take some moments to reflect on her words, not rejecting them out of hand.
“All right. I will pray. I will carefully think things over.” He said this with a gravity that convinced Julia he was telling her the truth. Whether he thought it would make a difference was another matter. She saw a gleam of defiance in his eyes. He stepped toward her, placing his hands on her waist. “While you are also doing those things, will you think about this, too?”
This was exactly why she needed time away from him. When he was this close to her, there was only one direction, one answer her heart would heed, and it was not one that made any sense at all.
Despite her misgivings, she lifted her face to his, accepting his kiss. It was sweet and tender, urging her to keep her heart bound up with his. Making her wish there was some way he could be right. But she could not even imagine how that could be.
CHAPTER
22
MICHAEL STEPPED OUT of the copyist’s shop near the law courts. He’d come on this errand primarily to get away from his chambers and enjoy a walk on this sunny day. It also freed his mind to think of Julia. It had been two days since he’d seen her, but she was never out of his thoughts.
Corinna had been surprised to learn the Latin lessons were not taking place this week and hadn’t made much effort to conceal her pleasure. Michael wasn’t ready to tell her how short-lived her happiness might be. He’d said only that a full caseload this week had prevented the meetings. It was true that he had plenty of work to do. He had thrown himself into it as best he could, meeting all obligations even if his mind wasn’t fully absorbed in the tasks.
He and Julia had agreed to meet back at that little park tomorrow afternoon. He’d spent these days considering what to do.
Julia deserved an opportunity to train as a physician. But what if the medical school here in London was forced to close? Would she travel to the continent or perhaps even America to get training? He might survive a few years’ separation. But would she love him enough to give up her dream of becoming a missionary? Should he even ask that of her?
He’d done his best to send up prayers, and not only because he’d promised Julia to do so. He wanted to arrive at a solution where they both could be at peace. He still couldn’t believe God would separate two people who were in love. Or was what they wanted inconsequential in light of the Almighty’s greater objectives? That thought only confused and angered him. His grasp on spiritual matters was tenuous at best, and it was clearly not good enough to answer any of these questions.
He was so intent on trying to untangle this knot of imponderables that he was annoyed to see Tamblin striding toward him.
Tamblin didn’t look too happy, either. “I’d like a chat with you, Stephenson.”
“I’m just on my way to deliver these copies to Chancery,” Michael said, hoping to put him off.
“It can wait. We have something more pressing at hand. Why don’t we take a walk—say, over to the Embankment? What we need to discuss is too personal to risk being overheard by the clerks at Gray’s Inn.”
Michael had an inkling of what this “chat” would be about. They walked at a good pace, speaking only of general matters until they reached the river.
Once they were strolling along the Embankment, watching the busy boat traffic along the Thames, Tamblin stated what was on his mind. “Word has reached me about an event that could be troublesome for us and for Lord Westbridge—who, please recall, is our most important client.”
“I assume you are referring to my appearance at the magistrate’s court?” Michael hoped fervently that nothing of what had happened afterward had become known to them.
“Why didn’t you tell me you went there to defend Lady Edith? Did you not understand the conflict of interest? I thought you a better lawyer than that.”
“I was not there on Lady Edith’s behalf. Her presence was incidental to my purposes.”
“Which were?” Tamblin turned an angry gaze on him.
“There were two others with Lady Edith at the time of her arrest—Miss Julia Bernay and a woman who is a resident of Bethnal Green, where they were arrested.”
He began to give an account of how the women had ended up in front of a magistrate, but Tamblin interrupted him. “That much I know already,” he said impatiently. “But why were you there?”
“Miss Bernay is an acquaintance of mine,” Michael answered, well aware that acquaintance was a deceptively mild description. “Her sister came to me and told me what had happened, and I went to the court to see what I could do to help.”
“And yet you knew Lady Edith was there, too?”
“I did. But I was not going to allow innocent women to languish in prison because of it.”
The look on Tamblin’s face showed how much he disagreed with that assessment. “Don’t you think the magistrate would have freed them anyway, on the strength of Lady Edith’s word?”
“Because she would invoke the privilege of aristocracy? Perhaps you are not aware that Lady Edith neglected to mention to the authorities that she was an earl’s daughter. It might not have come out at all if I hadn’t used her title during my remarks to the magistrate.”
“That’s preposterous,” Tamblin exclaimed.
“Why do you think the whole business got as far as it did? Lady Edith never said a word. I think she wanted to spend a night in jail. If so, it takes this new upperclass craze called ‘slumming’ a bit too far, don’t you think?”
“That is neither here nor there,” Tamblin sputtered in annoyance. “The point is that you entered a public hearing, knowing full well what damage it could do to our case and, by extension, our reputation. Furthermore, I want to know why you have never told me about this Julia Bernay. Apparently there are things about your ‘acquaintance’ with her that have import on our case. That she is preparing to go to medical school, for example.”
“How do you know that?”
“It was in her statement to the police! It’s public record now.”
“She wants to go to the school, but she is not there yet. How can there be a conflict of interest?”
“How did you come to be acquainted with this woman? Did you meet her on the Underground?” Tamblin motioned toward Michael’s neck. “That nurse who saved your life. It was Julia Bernay, wasn’t it?”
Michael drew in a sharp breath. He supposed he should have known that Tamblin, one of the best legal minds in England, could have easily tied together those disparate pieces of information.
A fruit seller approached them, carrying a basket of apples. Michael bought one from her, taking his time to select the right coin from his pocket. It was only an excuse to keep from answering Tamblin, but the man wasn’t fooled.
“Don’t you suppose one might reasonably consider you beholden to Miss Bernay after what she did?” he said to Michael as soon as the fruit seller had moved on to other potential customers.
“It wasn’t something she could have planned.”
“Don’t equivocate. The question is whether she has yielded influence over you since then.”
She had. Of course she had. But not in the way Tamblin was thinking. Or maybe it was, for being with her had certainly made him look at everything differently, including the libel suit. He’d accepted her request—it seemed almost like a dare—to teach her Latin because some part of him knew, even then, that he wanted to spend more time with her. He’d thought he could keep their meetings from seeping into other aspects of his life. He’d been wrong.
“Shall I recuse myself from this case?”
The Heart's Appeal Page 22
