An Unlikely Suitor

by Nancy Moser

  “Come, sit down. Tell me everything.”

  They moved into the drawing room and sat. Blood dripped from a cut on Edward’s cheek. “You need a doctor too.”

  He pressed a handkerchief to it, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine.” His eyes strayed upstairs.

  “But Sofia?”

  Edward seemed uncertain with his words. “She’ll recover, but I’m very glad I came along when I did.”

  Rowena suffered a shiver. “Do they know who attacked her?”

  “She knew him. ‘Bonwitter,’ she said.”

  Rowena had heard that name before. “He caused them trouble in New York. He stole from the dress shop and Lucy was instrumental in getting him fired.”

  “He’s obviously one angry man to come all this way for his revenge.”

  Rowena felt bad for not taking more notice of Lucy’s story of him. Yet Lucy had never let on she felt in danger here.

  She rose. “I should go to them.”

  Edward stopped her with a hand. “In a minute. But first. Please.”

  She sat back down, dreading his words, his explanation. To know the truth was one thing, to talk about it with the man who had caused the pain was another.

  “I can say nothing but . . . I’m so sorry, Rowena.”

  They were words she was glad to hear, yet words that caused their own damage.

  “I’m sorry too,” she said. “For how could you fall in love with . . . with . . .”

  “Two women?”

  This shocked her. “You loved me?”

  He started to reach for her hand, then withdrew the gesture. “I love you, Rowena. I care deeply for you.”

  He looked down and Rowena prodded him to finish his thought. “But . . . ?”

  “But I’m in love with Lucy.”

  Rowena had never considered there to be a difference in love, but somehow she understood. Yet the understanding did not negate the pain.

  “I never meant to hurt you,” he said.

  “But you did.”

  He nodded. “But I did.”

  She remembered something Sofia had told her. “Earlier today Sofia shared something with me that her father used to say: Love rules without rules. I guess that’s true.”

  Edward offered a bittersweet smile. “And Shakespeare said, ‘The course of true love never did run smooth.’ ”

  Which begged the question, “Is Lucy your true love? Are you going to marry her?”

  “Yes, and . . . I hope to.”

  The hedging of his second answer brought to mind the reality of their situation. “What will your parents think about all this?”

  “They’ll be disappointed you and I are not going to marry, but—”

  “No, Edward. What will they think about Lucy?”

  He shook his head, his eyes down. “I have no idea.”

  “Yes you do. You know very well what they’ll think.”

  Edward sighed deeply, his eyes sad.

  Rowena realized society could stop this marriage. Edward’s parents would never approve of his marrying Lucy. If she pressed him with this reality, she just might be able to—

  But in the midst of this thought came another, and she heard herself saying, “You won’t let them stop you, will you?”

  “You don’t want them to stop me?”

  And here it was. The culmination, the consequence—and the sacrifice. “I want you and Lucy to be together.”

  He looked upward, toward the second floor. “If she still loves me . . .”

  “She does love you. She told me so.”

  A beam of light seemed to fall across his face. “She does?”

  “She does.” But even as Rowena was reassuring him, she wondered if she would ever have someone’s face light up for her.

  “Come, Ro. I’ll take care of you.”

  She closed her eyes and remembered Morrie sweeping her into his arms, taking her to safety. The feel of his hand upon her cheek, and her resting there, never wanting to . . .

  She stood. “I have to go.”

  “Go where?”

  “To see the man I love, to tell him . . .”

  She hurried to the door, ran down the front steps, and across the grass toward the stables.

  Lucy stood beside Sofia’s bed holding a cloth full of ice chips in one hand and stroking her sister’s forehead with the other. Sofia’s face was misshapen from the swelling caused by her beating “I’m so, so sorry, Sofia.”

  The doctor was putting away the tools of his trade. “She’s a very lucky girl. If Mr. DeWitt hadn’t come along . . .”

  Edward?

  He clicked his bag shut and handed Lucy a bottle. “Give her a teaspoon of this every four hours for the pain.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Sofia said.

  “Now rest, child. And thank God it wasn’t worse.” He left them alone.

  As soon as he was gone, Lucy asked, “Edward saved you?”

  Sofia started to nod, but stopped with a grimace. “Bonwitter was on top of me. He would have—”

  Lucy stood upright. “Bonwitter did this?”

  “I can’t believe he followed us here.”

  Lucy thought back to the other night near the docks. “I thought I saw him when I was out with Dante—with Edward, but I didn’t let myself believe it.” She returned the ice bag to Sofia’s cheek. “But why you? He should hate me. I’m the one who turned him in.”

  “We’re sisters. To hurt one, you hurt the other.”

  Lucy felt tears threaten. As much as she usually focused on the differences between herself and Sofia, they were bound by God—by blood, loyalty, and a tie that must never be broken.

  They were cut from the same cloth.

  Lucy wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, forcing the tears away. “Why were you out walking, Sofia?”

  “I was looking for you. When you ran out, I tried to follow you, but Mamma delayed me and . . . I’m so sorry about Edward. I should’ve told you as soon as I found out.”

  “When did you know?”

  Sofia told her about seeing the two of them while she and Hugh were out to dinner.

  “You and Hugh?”

  “He’s a good friend. A good man.”

  Lucy sat on the edge of the bed, needing its support. It was too much to fathom. Nothing was as it seemed. All had been turned upside down.

  Sofia’s grimace and groan brought Lucy back to the moment. “No more talk,” she said. “You must rest.”

  Sofia shook her head. “What of Edward?”

  “What of him?” She had the image of passing Edward upon entering the Langdon house.

  “I believe he loves you, Lucy.”

  Rowena’s words came back to her. “Rowena said the same.”

  “You’ve spoken with her?”

  “She doesn’t love him. She’s sacrificing her future by freeing me to love him.”

  “Chi trova un amico trova un tesoro,” Sofia said. “He who finds a friend finds a treasure.”

  Of the most precious kind.

  Rowena hadn’t run since childhood, but her desire to see Morrie was so great she found a brisk but awkward rhythm as she hurried across the grass toward the stables. She relished the darkness, for to enable speed, she lifted the skirt of her costume, revealing more leg than the world had ever seen of the adult Rowena.

  Quite winded, she reached the barn and nearly fell into the arms of a stableboy. “Morrie. Where is Morrie?”

  He gave her a quizzical look and she realized her error. “Haverty. Where is Haverty?”

  “I don’t know, miss. I ain’t seen him since he rode off last time you were here.”

  He was still looking for Edward? Seeking revenge for her sake?

  “You want to wait fer ’im?” the boy asked.

  Yes! “I’ll wait in his quarters. Thank you.”

  She went into his room only to find the tea the boy had fetched from Mrs. Oswald still there, cold. She downed the cup greedily.

  Rowena tried to sit
but couldn’t contain herself. She paced. As she forced herself to calm down, she began to see Morrie within the objects of this room. A shirt and vest hung from a hook on the back of the door. She pressed her face into the fabric and reveled in the musky scent that was his alone. On the dresser she took up his shaving brush and ran it against her cheek, making her remember the lovely feeling of his touch.

  Then she sat upon the bed and took up the book sitting on the table nearby. It was a Bible. She opened it and found many passages underlined. She read one aloud. “ ‘When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.’ ”

  She marked her place with a finger and looked up. The verse mirrored her current feelings. Despite her age in years, she’d been acting as a child. It was time for her to act like a woman.

  Rowena read more of the passage. “ ‘And now abideth faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.’ ”

  Her eyes filled with tears. In spite of everything, Morrie had always held on to his faith, his hope in their future, and his love for her. How blind she’d been.

  She heard a commotion outside and stood. The Bible fell to the floor. As she picked it up, a pressed flower slipped from between its pages. Rowena carefully plucked it from the floor. It was a violet.

  Her memories flew back to a summer day when she’d been barely thirteen. She and Morrie had spent the day on the Cliff Walk, playing pirates. He’d played the hero, rescuing her from the evil captain. From the rocks she’d plucked a purple violet as a token for her savior.

  “He kept it all these years.”

  And with that knowledge came the rest of the memory of that summer, of her accident, and the abrupt end of her childhood and a normal future.

  She held the flower to her lips. . . .

  “Violets stand for faithfulness, you know.” Morrie stood in the doorway.

  She could only manage his name, said in a whisper. “Morrie . . .”

  He shook his head, stopping her. Then he came inside. “Let me speak first, for I’ve been driving around and around, ostensibly looking for your Edward to ream him out or kill him or . . . I actually don’t know what I was supposed to do with him.”

  He was so sweet, so sincere.

  He began to pace, eyeing the floor as he walked, his hands fueled by his movement. “You know I’ve always supported you and wanted what’s best for you, and if that meant marrying Edward DeWitt or the King of Siam, I was willing to let you do it.”

  She sat upon the bed, smiling. “The King of Siam?”

  He offered her but a glance. “The point is, I’ve tried to do the right thing by you, wanting only your happiness. But saints alive, Ro, the truth is, the only way you’re going to be happy is if you marry me.” He stopped in front of her. “I’m the one who loves you. I’m the one God’s chosen for you. And you’re for me. I know it with every breath in my body.”

  She stifled a laugh. “Oh, Morrie . . .”

  “Don’t laugh at me. I love you. And don’t go telling me you don’t love me, because you do.”

  She rose and took a step toward him. “I do.”

  He blinked, then took a step back. “You do? You do what?”

  “I do love you.”

  The space between his eyes wrinkled. “You love me?”

  She walked toward him again, but this time he didn’t retreat. She reached up and put her hands upon his face, tilting it downward to look into his eyes. “I love you and only you. I always have and always will.”

  Rowena stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly on the lips. They lingered there, sealing this moment for all time.

  Then Morrie pulled her into his arms and spun her around and around. “Yee-ha! You love me!”

  Rowena spotted more than one stableboy in the hall, looking to see what all the commotion was about. So when he spun her just so, she kicked the door shut with her feet.

  The boys’ laughter joined her own.

  “Mamma!”

  Sofia opened her eyes and saw her mother rushing toward her. “Oh, my poor dear, my piccolina. What happened?”

  “Bonwitter attacked me.”

  Mamma looked to Lucy, who nodded. “The doctor’s been here. The bruises will heal—the physical ones. He nearly . . .”

  Mamma’s eyes grew wide, then filled with tears.

  “Edward saved me,” Sofia said. “Lucy’s Dante saved me.”

  Mamma slowly turned her head to look at Lucy. “He’s in the drawing room. When I came in he introduced himself and asked after you.” Mamma held Lucy’s gaze and asked the questions that remained unanswered. “Do you forgive him, Lucia?”

  Lucy hesitated, then nodded. “I’ve talked to Rowena.”

  “And?” Mamma asked.

  “She doesn’t love him.”

  “So it’s up to you?”

  Lucy just stood there.

  “And?” Mamma said.

  “What should I do?”

  “Do you love him?” Mamma asked.

  Lucy nodded.

  “Then go to him. Hear him out.”

  “But he lied—”

  Mamma held up a hand. “Love is too precious to throw away.”

  Sofia had never heard that one before. “Did Papa say that?”

  “I say that. As your mother. As a woman who loved one man with all my heart.”

  Lucy’s eyes rimmed with tears and she embraced her mother.

  Lucy deserved to love and be loved. Sofia only hoped Edward’s love was as genuine as her sister’s.

  As Lucy left, someone else came in.

  “Hugh.” Sofia wasn’t sure what to do. Mamma didn’t know about their friendship.

  “Come in, Mr. Langdon,” Mamma said. “Again I thank you for getting me back here to see my daughter.”

  What?

  Mamma made room for Hugh at the bedside, then explained. “Mr. Langdon noticed the commotion at the Breakers when a boy brought me a note telling of your assault. He was kind enough to bring me home. He says you are a friend.”

  Hugh took Sofia’s hand. “A friend I hold in the highest esteem.” He ran a finger over her bruised fingers. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, matey.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Which doesn’t lessen my regret.”

  He studied her face, his brows furrowed, and she realized . . . “I must look horrible.” She touched her cheeks but couldn’t even feel the cheekbones beneath the swelling.

  Hugh shook his head. “You’re a brave girl to fight so hard. If only I’d been there to fight for you.”

  If only . . .

  Mrs. Donnelly stepped forward. “Beg your pardon, Master Hugh, but the girl needs her rest. Doctor’s orders.”

  He carefully lifted her hand and brushed his lips against it. “Get well, Sofia, so we can go sailing again.”

  As he left, Mamma took his place by her side. “Explain yourself, piccolina.”

  Exhaustion demanded her attention, but Sofia couldn’t rest until something was set straight. “I am not your little girl anymore, Mamma. I am a woman. And Hugh is my dear, dear friend.”

  “You are still a child. You know nothing of the—” She must have remembered the beating, for she halted.

  “I have been taught too much of the world tonight, Mamma. But even beyond that, since coming here I’ve grown up. Hugh helped me do that. And I have helped him.”

  “He mentioned sailing. When have you been sailing?”

  She didn’t want to defend herself anymore—at least not tonight. Whether Mamma believed she’d changed or not, Sofia knew it to be true. And even Mamma’s opinion couldn’t take that away from her.

  “I’m tired, Mamma.”

  “You must not set your sights too high. He is the heir. You cannot—”

  “Edward is the heir of his family.”

  Mamma looked away.

  “What happened to love being too precious to throw away?”
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  Mamma had no comeback. “You are but a ch—” Thankfully, she stopped herself. “You are both so young.”

  Sofia pressed her head into the pillow and closed her eyes. Sleep beckoned like the sea pulling the waves away from the shore. “Not now, Mamma.”

  “Mrs. Scarpelli, please.”

  Thank God for Mrs. Donnelly.

  And Hugh.

  And Mamma.

  And Edw—

  Sleep took her captive.

  Lucy’s heart beat in her throat as she descended the grand staircase of the Langdon mansion. Her eyes focused on the drawing room. Was Edward really there, waiting for her? What would he say? What would she say?

  She reached the foyer, her hand upon the carved ball that crowned the newel-post. Once she let go, once she took a step from the safety of the stairs, she would be walking across a threshold from one life into another.

  And then she saw him, pacing up and back, toward the foyer and away.

  He looked up.

  He saw her. And whispered, “Lucia.”

  She could tell by the tensing of his muscles that he longed to rush toward her, yet not knowing her reaction, he held his position.

  It was up to her.

  Lucy relinquished the newel-post and walked toward him. His eyes were darting this way and that, trying to read the moment.

  She longed to run into his arms, and yet . . . She walked to the center of the room. She opened her mouth to say his name, then stopped. “I don’t know what to call you.”

  He came closer but still kept his distance. “When I met you, I had no idea who you were.”

  “But you were supposed to be readying yourself to propose to Rowena.”

  He swallowed with difficulty. “That’s what our parents wanted, not what was meant to be. Not what God wanted for either of us.”

  Her father’s voice whispered to her. “L’uomo propone ma Dio dispone.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  “Man proposes but God disposes.”

  His face lost its dire intensity. “Your father’s wisdom is good for many occasions.”

  “He taught me a lot about life.”

  “He was your Dante.”

  “He was my father. You were my Dante.” She walked toward the mantel, keeping her back to him. “Why didn’t you tell me your name?”

  “When you mentioned Rowena and I discovered you were her new friend, I knew I should pull away from you, to stop these feelings. But I couldn’t.”