Nora

by Diana Palmer

  She broke the news to her cousins and Summerville that very night that she was going to book passage on the next ship home.

  “Dear, do stay a little longer,” Edna pleaded. “We do so enjoy having you with us.”

  “Indeed we do,” Torrance seconded.

  “I should love to, really I should,” Nora assured them, “but my mother wishes me to be home in time for Thanksgiving….”

  “But that is two weeks away.” Edna moaned.

  “And the ship could be delayed…anything could happen,” Nora pointed out. “Besides, I will have to help Mother prepare for the family party she always hostesses. Couldn’t you go back with me?” she asked.

  They shook their heads, because they, too, had engagements to fulfill. But Summerville smiled as he informed Nora that he would accompany her to the States, and hope for an invitation to the Thanksgiving party. Hope would not be enough, Nora knew. Her mother and father did not like Summerville at all, and she still had doubts about him. Somewhere in her mind, she wondered why he had bothered to follow her to London and stay for two weeks. True to his word, he had not annoyed her or attempted to handle her in any way. However, there had been a watchful look about him.

  “Something is troubling you, my dear, is it not?” Lady Edna asked her while she was packing that night.

  She nodded, pausing in the folding of a gown. “It is Edward. I do not trust him.”

  Edna sighed. “I must admit, this sudden visit of his is disturbing, when he hardly ever stops to see us.” She lifted her eyes to Nora’s. “You know that his family has suffered a decline in fortune?”

  Nora’s eyebrows lifted. “Ah. I begin to see the light.”

  Edna grimaced. “Forgive me. I am fond of him, but he is not the sort of husband you need. He likes the women too much.”

  “I know.”

  “And a woman should not be married just for her fortune,” Edna added indignantly. “I had no idea why he was here until I spoke to Lady Winter at the tea party this afternoon. She asked if Summerville was truly in residence here, and I admitted that he was. Then she laughed and said that he had courted most of the eligible women in our circle without success and was contemplating the loss of luxury with despair. Then Lady Sylvia announced that you were visiting, and everyone knew why Summerville was here.” She patted Nora’s hand sympathetically. “Forgive me. I would not have allowed him to presume on our hospitality if I had any idea of his motives!”

  “I know that,” Nora said gently. She hugged the older woman affectionately. “Please, think nothing of it. I know Edward very well, unfortunately. It was he who caused me to get the fever, you know. He tore my dress in amorous pursuit, and the mosquitoes got to my skin. John and Claude thrashed him royally, and I had not heard from him for some time. I suppose he thought he might end up a happy widower if he could convince me to marry him,” she added bitterly.

  “Nora, you will not die of the fever!” Edna said firmly. “Blackwater fever is not that difficult to diagnose, and you would be dead already if you had it. Certainly you would become ill very quickly and have no appetite and no energy.”

  Nora felt herself go pale. Could she have been wrong? Could it be the fever, the killing fever, and not pregnancy at all that was causing her condition? She was horrified.

  “Now, you must stop worrying,” Edna continued, oblivious to her cousin’s shocked expression as she began to help find clothes for the maid to fold and put in Nora’s cases. “I am certain that the Almighty has not cursed you in such a way. And as for Summerville, why, he is no more than a fly. I have no doubt that your father will settle his hash for him if he has the temerity to follow you home!”

  Chapter Eight

  THE VOYAGE HOME WAS A difficult one, because the huge cruise ship hit a storm in the Atlantic and pitched and tossed until Nora thought she would bring up her stomach. She remained in her cabin with the ship’s physician attending her, and the seasick pills helped somewhat. But she was worried about her true condition, and too afraid to mention it.

  The doctor, a kind elderly man, sat down on the bunk beside her and took her hand in his. “Now,” he said, when the steward had placed her jug of juice on the table and departed. “Suppose you tell me what is occupying your mind to such a degree, young lady.”

  She swallowed another wave of nausea and looked up at him with torment in her blue eyes. “I have been…indiscreet,” she faltered. “I loved him so much. I thought he loved me,” she added in a wobbly whisper.

  The doctor, who was no stranger to such confessions, patted her hand. “And now you fear that there will be consequences.”

  She bit her lip. “Yes…or…” She looked up.

  “Or?” he prompted.

  “I have had fever, from mosquito bites I received in Kenya on safari,” she told him worriedly. “They say that blackwater fever begins with loss of appetite and nausea, which I have.”

  “How long ago did you contract this fever?”

  She told him.

  “And how long ago was this…ahem…indiscretion?”

  She told him that, too.

  He smiled gently. “My dear young woman, I fear that blackwater fever is going to be the least of your worries. I must get my nurse to assist me while I examine you.”

  “No, please,” she pleaded. “I don’t want anyone else to know. My family…the disgrace!”

  He let out a long sigh. “What sort of a world do we live in, young woman, where being human is such a crime? Very well, I can do the examination alone, if you will permit me?”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  It was embarrassingly thorough, and when he finished, he was resigned and reluctant to tell her. He lingered over washing his hands in the basin and drying them before he turned.

  “I am sorry,” he said quietly. “But there is going to be a child.”

  She sat rigidly on the edge of the bed. Her first impulse was to panic, to jump overboard, to… Then she thought of a tiny black head suckling at her breast, and such a wave of love and joy swept through her that tears stung her blue eyes.

  “There are ways to manage something like this,” he began in a paternal tone. “Adoption can be arranged. I can send you to the proper people. Judging by your manner of dress, you are well-to-do, which will be a help.”

  “But I do not want to give up my child,” she said earnestly.

  “A laudable, noble sentiment. But impractical, unless the father will marry you and give the child a name.”

  She ground her teeth together. Cal would marry her, of course, if she presented him with the fact of a child. But he was poor, and she would have nothing for herself and the child.

  Her father would never accept Cal as a son-in-law. Nor would he accept Nora in her condition without a husband. He would disinherit Nora immediately. If she married Cal, they would be forced to live in a shack on her aunt and uncle’s ranch, where he worked, and Nora would have to learn to cook and clean and do for herself. It was a nightmare of a possibility. She had become accustomed to wealth and servants. How could she live like a field hand? It might sound romantic to give up her all for love, but it was hardly practical. She would suffer in that sort of environment, and her illness would be an eternal burden on Cal. Cal might hate her for forcing him to marry her. He might not even want the child. She groaned. It seemed that all her doors were closed.

  “Think about it,” the doctor counseled. “I will tell no one, you may rest assured of that. When we reach New York, I shall give you a way to contact me. You do not have to decide immediately.”

  She lifted weary eyes. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

  He looked concerned. “I have two daughters of my own. This man… You still love him?”

  She dropped her gaze to the floor. “At the time, I loved him more than life itself,” she said hesitantly.

  “My dear, if you did not still love him, the child would not be so precious to you,” he commented with a smile.

  She was sh
ocked. “I could not love a man who betrayed me!”

  “Alas, hatred is part of love. Try not to worry too much. And eat properly and get enough rest,” he added sternly, closing his medical bag. “You are delicate now.”

  “The fever…”

  He turned. “It may recur,” he said. “But even if it does, it will not be fatal. You will learn to live with it, as many men did who came back from Panama and Cuba similarly infected. My dear, it is possible to contract malaria even in the southernmost parts of the United States where mosquitoes carry the plasmodia. I have seen more cases of it than I can remember. You will survive, I promise you. Do you take quinine?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said miserably. “After the first two attacks, I had to, but it makes me uncomfortable. It…will not harm the baby?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “Of course not. Now, try to get some rest. The seasick potion should help somewhat.”

  “Thank you, doctor.”

  He patted her shoulder. “I wish that I could do more. Good night, Miss Marlowe.”

  She watched him go with tired eyes. He was kind, and he did at least have hope to offer about the fevers. But what would she do about Cal’s child? That was a problem she couldn’t solve in the course of one night.

  EDWARD SUMMERVILLE watched her very carefully until they docked, and all the way by train to Richmond. He seemed to know about her condition, because he was very solicitous and concerned.

  “Are you going to keep it?” he asked bluntly when they were briefly alone on the platform waiting for her father’s servant to drive them home.

  She went white as she met his knowing eyes.

  He smiled cynically. “Did you really think you could keep such a thing secret?” he asked. “The doctor told his nurse. She, after some flattery and a box of fine chocolates, was quite forthcoming.” He cocked his head. “Was it the man in Texas? The one I heard you tell Edna about?”

  “My child’s parentage is my business,” she said with bravado. She was outraged at his meddling, at his unscrupulous behavior. He was a scoundrel.

  “What will you do if I tell your parents about the child, Nora?” he asked suddenly, with an unpleasant gleam in his eyes. “What if I tell them, in fact, that it is mine?”

  “We…we have never…!”

  “We have been together for weeks in England,” he reminded her. “And your condition does not show. Yet.”

  “You could not do such a thing!” she raged.

  “My father has squandered my inheritance on drink and gambling,” he said icily, his handsome face ugly with anger and greed. “I cannot live a pauper. I will not. You need a husband, and I need a wealthy wife to support me. We will suit admirably. I will be the picture of a loving husband and father, I promise you, and the little brat will never know the truth about his conception.”

  “I will not!” she said on a gasp.

  He turned to see the carriage approaching and bent to pick up his case. He smiled coolly at Nora. “Think of the alternative, Nora. Your father will force you to marry me.”

  “He will disinherit me!” she corrected.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I hardly think so. After all, I have an old family name, and he knows nothing of our finances. He is a cowardly man about his family name. He will do anything to keep it unsullied, and save his fine reputation. A banker can hardly afford a scandal, my dear.”

  He was saying no more than she already knew. Her father considered his social position more important than his life. He would do anything to safeguard it, right down to making Nora marry a blackguard like Summerville.

  “I will give you until Friday to think it through. If you have not agreed to marry me by then,” he added deliberately, “I will make you.”

  “You will make me do nothing!” she informed him haughtily. But the strain of the trip and her condition had made her weak. She faltered, and he caught her just as she started to crumple.

  “Do not fight me,” he counseled. “It will do no good. I mean to have you. I meant to have you in Africa, but your cousins prevented me. Now there is no one to turn to, no one to save you. I will have my way, and your fortune. And there is not one thing you can do to prevent it.”

  Oh, yes, there was, she told herself firmly. She would stop him, somehow. If only she felt better! She was in no condition for a standing fight, but she must manage one, or she would lose control of her own life, and her fortune. What a terrible fate Cal had led her to!

  THEY ARRIVED AT HER PARENTS’ home minutes later, and Edward helped Nora from the carriage and into the house. She was warmly welcomed by her mother, but there was no similar greeting for Edward, who made himself right at home without an invitation.

  “Your father will be along directly,” Cynthia told Nora, glancing curiously at Edward. “Excuse me, Mr. Summerville, I do not remember inviting you to stay.”

  He smiled vacantly. “Nora did. Didn’t you, my dear?”

  Nora glared at him. “No, I did not.”

  He got to his feet slowly and paused in front of her. “You have until Friday morning,” he reminded her. “I’ll see you then…darling.” He bent to brush his lips over her cheek, but she jerked back accusingly, her blue eyes glittery as they met his.

  “I shall have the police waiting for you.”

  “And I shall have a reporter waiting for you,” he countered gently.

  Nora was white when he closed the door behind him. Cynthia got her to the sofa and helped her to lie down. “Vile man!” she exclaimed, fussing over Nora. “Is it the fever, dear?”

  “I feel ill,” Nora hedged.

  “No doubt, after that long trip.” She had the maid fetch a wet cloth and put it gently over her daughter’s forehead. “My poor darling. It is so good to have you home. It is lonely with your father away so much at the bank. I fear that it means more to him than I do.”

  Nora could have assured her that it did. Her parents lived together but without a spark of warmth between them. Her father dictated and her mother obeyed. It was such a staid, clinical relationship that it had kept Nora from ever wishing to marry, until she met Cal.

  She closed her eyes and hoped that Edward would just go away, that he wouldn’t carry through with his threat. But she knew that would never happen. He had his eye on her money, and he was certain that he could maneuver her into marriage.

  Cynthia assumed that it was the fever making her daughter ill. She sat down nearby and began to speak of commonplace things in her serene tone. All the while, Nora was searching for a way out of her predicament. Just the thought of telling her father what sort of mess she was in made her terror-stricken. And Edward Summerville was going to complicate the situation immeasurably. If only there was something she could do!

  But there was, she realized suddenly. It was an unpleasant, unwanted alternative, but it was the only one she had. She moved the wet cloth aside and opened her eyes with a long sigh. It would kill her pride to ask for help. On the other hand, she had very little choice.

  She sat up. “Mama, can you send Clarence to the Western Union office for me? I must send a telegram.”

  “Why, certainly, my dear. To whom…?”

  “Please, do not ask me,” Nora replied, meeting her mother’s eyes. “Trust that I know what I am doing, can you?”

  “Nora, is something wrong?” her mother asked. “First that vile man comes back with you, after I had sent him away several weeks ago, and now you arrive looking like death. Please, can you not confide in me?”

  “Certainly I can,” Nora said comfortingly. “But not just yet. May I have a pencil and paper?”

  With a long-suffering sigh, Cynthia fetched them. “My social secretary could take dictation if she were here,” she said.

  “I can write it myself. And Clarence will need to wait for an answer. It may…take some time,” she added.

  “You are very mysterious, darling,” Cynthia remarked.

  Nora didn’t answer her. She was trying to put a novel into a few scant
words. When she finished, she counted the words, took a silver dollar from her purse and sealed the whole in an envelope.

  Cynthia was more than curious, but she relented when she noticed the strain in her daughter’s face. Something was wrong, badly wrong, and she felt that it had something to do with that Summerville person. He seemed very possessive of Nora, and he was up to something. It must be something unpleasant. He’d said that he was returning to the house on Friday, and Nora seemed to be upset about it. Cynthia would have to ask Nora’s father to be at home Friday morning, and he would not like being asked to stay away from work so long. But like herself, he disapproved of Summerville. Cynthia found the man detestable. She hoped Nora knew what she was doing.

  Clarence, the yard man, took the message into Richmond and sent it off. It took half the afternoon to get a reply, but he waited patiently until the Western Union man sent for him and gave him a sealed envelope.

  When Clarence brought it back, Nora’s hands trembled as she ripped open the envelope with a fast-beating heart. She had been afraid that Cal was away, that she would not be able to reach him. Now, at least, she had an answer. She didn’t know what his reply would be or what to expect. She couldn’t bear to draw it out, either. She could only hope for the best.

  The words leaped off the page, terse and without embroidery. “Will arrive midmorning Friday. C.B.” That was all. Nothing more. He was coming. She lay back and closed her eyes. It didn’t mean that she was safe, but at least she had a chance of escaping Edward Summerville. She had to trust in the Almighty to do the rest.

  CAL BARTON STEPPED off the train in Richmond Friday morning, tired and dusty and half out of humor. It had taken everything short of magic to make it here so fast with all the necessary connections between cities. He was tired and sleepy. But he was here. Now he wanted to hear what the hell that terse little message meant. “Need you immediately. Eleanor,” it read, and he wouldn’t have missed seeing her face for all the world when he admitted that he knew all about her pal Summerville. No doubt she had fallen pregnant and planned to accuse him of fathering the child. But now he knew about her other beau, and she was going to jump through some hoops. He promised himself she was.