She was speaking for all the world like a cheated wife.
“No, I was not with Julia. I won’t be seeing her again.”
“No? What’s stopping you?” Now Corinna appeared just as suspicious in the other direction.
“What do you care?” he shot back.
This attack did not fluster her in the least. “You’re right. I don’t care. But I do care that you have thrown away your chance to marry Laura Maynard. If waiting for love had held me back, where do you think either of us would be today? Certainly not in this house, with you in a thriving career and us on the verge of regaining everything our father threw away.”
It was the baldest statement she’d ever made, voicing that she’d considered her own marriage as one of convenience and nothing more.
David generally took Corinna’s bouts of temper with unquenchable grace. But this time, the raw selfishness on display, the truth that she’d seen David as a stopgap from ruin and nothing more, finally broke through his normally unflappable exterior. His hands shook as he set down the glass he’d been about to bring her.
Michael thought that, pregnant or not, Corinna deserved any stinging rebuke David could throw at her. But without a word or further look at her, David left the room.
“Now look what you’ve done!” Corinna accused.
“No. You will not lay the blame for that at my feet. Have you not even one ounce of thankfulness in your heart for that man? He has given you all this”—Michael motioned to the riches all around them—“but you treat it as some kind of birthright and heap contempt on him in the bargain. One day he may very well tire of such treatment, and then where will you be?”
She took hold of his sleeve. “I did it for you! Don’t you have any thankfulness for me?” She spoke accusingly, but tears began to well in her eyes. “Everything I did was so that you could succeed. So that you would not live your life as a middle-class clerk. But you have no gratitude for me!”
For all of his aptitude at debate in the courtroom, Michael could find nothing to say. No rebuttal or explanation. Anger, guilt, and sorrow threatened to suffocate him, leaving him desperate for air. He turned and walked toward the parlor door, following in David’s footsteps.
“Yes, why don’t you just go away, too!” Corinna shouted at his back. “You don’t care a whit about the sacrifices I’ve made!”
Michael did not pause.
But as he reached for the door, Corinna said, “Yes, I have all this. But you have something I don’t have and have never had—the freedom to choose.”
The desolation in her words lodged in his heart—exactly as she’d meant them to. Tears stained her face now, from rage or sorrow. Or both.
Michael couldn’t bear to see it. He went out, shutting the door behind him.
To his surprise, David had not gone far. He was slumped on a bench in the hallway, head in hands, the picture of utter dejection.
Michael sat down next to him. “Please don’t take her words to heart. Corinna is overly emotional right now.”
David shrugged off the attempt at consolation. “She only said out loud what we all knew already. She married me out of sheer desperation—and self-preservation. I knew it even then. But I thought that given time, if I kept loving her every way I knew how, she would grow to love me, too.” He took out a handkerchief, wiping his forehead and, Michael thought, using the action to take a stealthy swipe at tears. “I’m finally ready to admit it was a foolish hope all along. I’ve been nothing but a simple, lovestruck idiot.”
“I’m appalled by my sister’s actions and heartily ashamed for having fostered this. You are the best, most decent person I know. She doesn’t deserve you.”
The compliment glanced off his brother-in-law. “I kept repeating this Bible verse: ‘Husbands, love your wives, and be not bitter against them.’ I had this idea that if I kept saying it, kept trying to live it, that eventually, one day, the tide would turn.” He shook his head. “But it wasn’t enough.”
“You have nothing to blame yourself for.”
David sighed and continued speaking. “Even now, I suppose I ought to be, I don’t know, storming out of the house or something. But I can’t leave her. Not when I know she is ill. She has been having cramps and nausea, did you know?”
“No,” said Michael, more ashamed than ever. Although to be fair, his sister always put up a strong front, refusing to show any kind of weakness.
Not that he’d given her much of his attention lately. In fact, he’d been avoiding coming here as much as possible. He’d used the excuse of allowing her to rest as the time for giving birth drew near, but really, it had been to keep from discussing Laura or his future plans.
“I still love her—and my child, who will soon be born. I love them both.” David’s words had a tender poignancy after all that had happened.
From the parlor, Corinna give a shriek of pain. Instantly they leapt to their feet and raced inside.
Corinna was doubled over, clinging to a chair with one hand and clutching her stomach with the other. “Please,” she gasped, “get the doctor.”
“I’m dying, you know.”
The earl’s words were slurred, but his bright, piercing gaze as he looked at Julia and Edith showed his mind was clear.
Edith had moved back home with her father, planning to stay with him at least through September. When Julia had arranged last week to visit them this afternoon, no one could have anticipated she’d be arriving just a few days after he’d suffered an apoplectic seizure. His current condition was stable, although his left side was partially paralyzed. This caused him endless agitation. He made a sound of frustration as he tried to sit up in bed with only one functioning arm to push himself up.
“You always did have a penchant for morbid exaggeration, Father,” Edith chided as she helped him to the position he was seeking.
“And you’re always trying to contradict me,” the earl rasped. “With all your medical knowledge, you know what I’m saying is true.” He pointed an accusatory finger at her. “And as a doctor, you would not hesitate to tell me plainly.”
Edith gave the pillows behind his back one last tug into place, then straightened and crossed her arms. “I’m sure you don’t address Dr. Adams in this fashion.”
“Actually, I think he does,” Julia interjected, remembering the first day of the trial, when his lordship was barking orders at his physician.
“And you are both straying from the point—which is an unprofessional and, I might add, womanly thing to do.”
Edith threw a quick glance heavenward. “You know we are doing everything we can for you, Father.”
This was true. They had just spent several hours giving him the best therapy known for his condition. They’d bathed his hands and feet in warm water, and, returning him to his bed, had placed warm bottles of water at his arms and feet. These measures helped keep the blood flowing to his extremities. To ease the pain of the rheumatism, Edith had applied more of the liniment Julia had recommended to the earl at their first meeting. Stubborn as he was, he had ignored her suggestion. It wasn’t until Edith came to live with him and personally oversee his care that he’d agreed to give it a try.
Now that he was back in bed, he seemed more comfortable, if tired from submitting to all their attentions. He leaned back on the pillows, his eyes closing briefly. His right hand clutched the blanket. “Everything you can,” he repeated, muttering under his breath. “It will be little enough in the end. Not even the best doctors can prevent the ultimate outcome.”
The earl seemed to be a very different person since the reconciliation with Edith. It was as though his anger and determination to pursue the lawsuit had been driving him, keeping him going despite his many physical ailments. Now there was nothing left to fight for. The stroke had been a further blow to his already frail health. Although clearly content to have his daughter back in his life again, the earl’s demeanor had taken on an air of melancholy resignation. Julia had seen this before in elde
rly patients who had a sense, whether rightly or wrongly, that death was drawing near.
“That is a long way off,” Edith insisted, tucking the blankets around his feet with more vigor than necessary. She turned to the nearby table where the medicines were set out and began to mix up a tonic for pain. Her movements were agitated and clumsy, nearly toppling one of the bottles. An indication of how much the idea of her father’s death troubled her.
“She’s right, sir,” Julia said, both for Edith’s sake as well as the earl’s. “You are not done tormenting us yet.” One thing she’d seen over these past few hours was that his lordship could be roused from moroseness by challenging words and jibes. His irascible nature fed on it.
He grunted in response. “Impertinent chit. Why do I put up with this?”
But he spoke halfheartedly, and Julia could see that this time, her efforts to galvanize him had failed. She sobered. “Sir, remember that, when that time does come, it will be a temporal end only. There is a greater destination—”
“Don’t talk metaphysics!” the earl cut her off sharply. “I’m sure I will never get into that glorious heaven of which everyone speaks. Assuming it’s even real.”
“Father, how can you talk that way?” Edith admonished.
The earl didn’t answer, only glared at the two of them. Julia was tempted to think she ought not to have brought up the subject, but how could she leave a person doubting God’s salvation if she could help them?
“That is why we have a savior,” Julia said. “If it were up to man to save himself, no one would make it. But God’s love and grace is extended to all who will accept it.”
Edith brought the tonic to her father’s side. “Here, Father, drink this.”
He waved away the glass, his attention still on Julia. He reached out with his good arm and took her hand. His grip was surprisingly strong, given his weakened state. “Are you saying you don’t think I’m a lost cause?”
Julia nodded. “With God, there is no such thing.”
He let go her hand. “You are being remarkably kind, considering . . .” His voice trailed off.
“Considering how you’re always yelling at me?” Julia supplied with a smile, still hoping to raise his spirits.
He didn’t answer. Edith offered the tonic again, and this time he accepted it. When he was done drinking, he fell back against the pillows, closing his eyes. It wouldn’t be long before the medicine would cause him to doze off.
“Ah, well, I suppose the rest of it doesn’t matter,” he murmured, “since you’re too busy saving the world.”
“I don’t understand. What doesn’t matter?”
“Julia, let him rest,” Edith said. “Don’t press him.”
But the earl wasn’t done yet. “I told Stephenson he must never see you again.”
“What?” Julia stared at him in shock. “Why?”
“It was a conflict of interest, of course! I couldn’t have you trying to influence him, trying to win him over. Are you saying you didn’t know?”
“No.” Julia felt numb. She’d thought Michael had stopped seeing her of his own volition. He’d mentioned something about doing it for his family. Had he really just been bowing to this man’s whims? No matter how powerful the earl was, surely Michael would not give in so easily. “I can’t believe he agreed to that.”
“He had his reasons. Those are not for me to divulge. Perhaps he will tell you, if you ask him.” He eyed her. “Perhaps you don’t think so well of me now. Will you revise your previous statement about those who are beyond hope?”
Julia swallowed, unable to speak, her mouth dry as cotton.
“I do not regret that lawsuit, if for no other reason than that woman Tierney is leaving the country!” He leaned forward, speaking with ferocity and shaking his fist. “What she said about my son was inexcusable! It was proven in a court of law!”
“Father, please!” Edith cried, urging him back down again. “You will bring more harm to yourself.”
The earl leaned back, panting heavily from his exertion. He continued on, however, despite gasping for breath and perhaps fighting the sedating effects of the tonic. “I’m grateful to you, Miss Bernay. . . . You brought my daughter back to me . . . in spite of everything. If I’ve hurt you in any way, I regret it.”
Julia’s head was swimming. The call to forgive was battling with a tide of anger rising up within her that this man had come between her and Michael. They had not been allowed to decide their future for themselves. He had exerted control over their lives for his own benefit.
“I do not revise my previous statement.” They were hard words to say, but Julia said them anyway. Because she knew it was right.
They sat in narrow chairs that the servants had set up in the hallway just outside Corinna’s room. Michael knew David felt as helpless as he did, both men aware they could be of no practical use whatsoever.
Hearing his sister’s periodic cries had been tough enough for Michael; he could see how much harder it was for her husband. David grimaced in misery at the sounds of distress coming from the bedroom. “I was aware that women experienced some pain during this ordeal, but I had no idea. . . . I feel so guilty.”
“She’ll get through it,” Michael assured him. “Dr. Hartman will see to that.”
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, Michael looked over to see Janet, the head housemaid, coming up the steps with a young woman he didn’t recognize. The woman was wringing her hands, face twisted with anxiety as she followed Janet up the hall. Before either of the men could ask what was happening, the two women slipped inside Corinna’s room, closing the door behind them.
“What do you suppose that was about?” David said. “I wish she had asked permission before going in there.”
Michael heard the frustration in his brother-in-law’s voice. The servants generally gave precedence to Corinna and looked to her for orders. It seemed to be the case even now, when Corinna was in no position to direct anything.
David got up and opened the door, but had not gotten halfway in before Corinna shrieked, “Go AWAY! Get OUT!”
He immediately backed out, looking utterly despondent. “She hates me now. She merely tolerated me before, but now she really hates me.”
Michael could think of nothing to say.
Not a minute later, Janet and the woman came out again, accompanied by Dr. Hartman. He had his doctor’s bag in his hands.
“Wait, where are you going?” David asked him, even as the two women hurried away down the stairs. “My wife—”
“Nooo!” Corinna screamed. It came out long and agonizingly, but she’d been making similar calls over these hours, so it was impossible to tell exactly who or what she was addressing.
“What’s going on?” David demanded.
Dr. Hartman gave him an apologetic smile. “This has turned out to be a busy time for birthing. Another client of mine, Mrs. Asquith, is also on the verge of giving birth. She is further along in the process than Mrs. Barker and, I’ve been told, having some complications. I must go to her straightaway.”
“But Corinna! You can’t just leave her! Listen to her!” David’s voice rose as he spoke, his emotions ratcheted up by his wife’s cries.
“Everything is fine,” the doctor replied. “Sometimes with the first birth, the woman is surprised by the intensity of the contractions. Mrs. Barker is merely vocalizing this as a way to deal with what she’s experiencing.”
Michael could easily believe this. It was probably the first time Corinna had been confronted with a situation she could not control. For a woman like her, it could be as frightening as the actual pains.
“The baby is in a good position,” the doctor continued. “I see no signs of trouble. But it will likely be several more hours yet.”
“Several more hours!” David looked horrified.
“I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about,” Michael said, wanting to calm David even though he felt the same panic at seeing the doctor about to leave.
>
“I should be back well before I am needed. In the meantime, Mrs. Taylor will be here to watch over things.”
Mrs. Taylor was the midwife who’d been assisting Dr. Hartman. She seemed capable enough, but Michael knew his sister’s confidence lay more in her trusted physician than with this woman she didn’t know.
Dr. Hartman handed a piece of paper to David. “Here’s the address where I’ll be. It isn’t far from here. You can send for me if Mrs. Taylor deems it necessary.”
David still looked aghast but didn’t argue. The doctor gave a few more reassurances and then left.
“I can’t deny help to another woman, of course,” David murmured, looking down at the paper before pocketing it. “But I can’t help being worried, can I?”
Mrs. Taylor bustled out into the hallway. She was short but broad, and from what Michael had seen of her so far, she always moved briskly and with purpose—just as she was doing now.
“You’re not leaving, too, are you?” David said in alarm.
She pulled up to look at him. “Oh no, sir. I’m here for the duration. I just need to give some directions to the maids.” Seeing David glance anxiously at the door, she added, “Mrs. Barker will be fine for ten minutes.”
This reassurance didn’t seem to penetrate the fog of David’s worry. “She will be all right, won’t she?”
“Pay no attention to the noise she makes. Some women like to raise a fuss, that’s all. Don’t you worry, we’ll get her sorted out. They generally come ’round when the moment is upon them.” Though the midwife was apparently trustworthy and efficient, there wasn’t much to recommend her in terms of bedside manner.
She went on her way, and once again David and Michael were left alone with nothing to do but wait.
David slumped into a chair. “Am I worrying too much? Am I being foolish? I want only the best for her. Have we done all we can?”
The Heart's Appeal Page 31
