The Gray Chamber

by Grace Hitchcock

  “Yes, but since my revelation on the island, the pain is beginning to pass, leaving behind the memories of my parents that were previously shrouded in my grief.” She met his gaze. “I’ll tell you about it soon.”

  “I’ll be patient until you are ready.” Bane scooted next to her. He drew her to him and kissed the top of her head. “I’m proud of you. It could not have been easy to relive such inhumanity … depravity.” His voice caught, and Edyth seized his hand.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, her own voice growing rough.

  He pressed onward, needing to confess the burden that he had been carrying since the day he found her. “I cannot help but think that if I’d found you sooner, I would’ve spared you—”

  She pressed a hand over his mouth, her eyes flashing. “Stop that at once. Do you hear me? I should have paid my uncle’s threat greater heed, but I was foolish in my misplaced trust of the man. I should have sent for you. I should have done anything else rather than shut myself up in my chamber like a child. We could both go on and on blaming ourselves, but it’s done. We must place our doubts, our burdens, where they belong, in God’s hands and leave them there.” She raked her fingers through his hair, gripping the back of his head. “Promise me you will stop blaming yourself. You found me. You did not give up on me.” She pressed her forehead to his. “Promise?”

  He closed his eyes and exhaled. “Yes.”

  “Good. Now we won’t have to talk of that or of lawyers anymore, right?”

  “No, not for a while. Mr. Pittman has what he needs from you, but I want you to know that if the only way to keep you safe is to move to a foreign land, I’ll do it in an instant.”

  “You would sacrifice your club that has taken you years to establish?” She shook her head. “I—I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You wouldn’t have to ask, my darling. I love you.” He wrapped his arms around her and she melted into him. “Shall we leave all this behind and take our wedding trip? The doctors said you could travel as long as the journey was short and, above all, tranquil.”

  She shifted herself to look up at him with wide eyes. “Our wedding trip? Where?”

  “Well, you always talked about how your happiest memories were of your summers spent at your parents’ estate in Newport. So when Mr. Pittman discovered that the mansion was the one item your father left to you without any conditions in place, I thought that it was high time we go there for a relaxing holiday. I’ve already alerted the staff in Newport, and they are preparing for our arrival tomorrow evening. If you wish it, that is. We will have to take the steamboat as your aunt and uncle have your yacht secured until your fortune is released to you.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder and gazed into the fire. “I haven’t gone back to Newport since my parents’ death. The memories the house holds were all too dear to taint with my sorrow.”

  He drew her chin up, and along with it, her gaze. “Will it be too painful of a place for you to recover?”

  She smiled, stroking his cheek, his chin, his lips. “No. With you by my side, I will create new memories and honor my parents by remembering them. It is time I stop running and face my past … with you as my present and future.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The pain passes, but the beauty remains.

  ~ Pierre-Auguste Renoir

  Edyth paused on the shore, eyeing the gangplank, her chest constricting. And it wasn’t because of the very loose corset Sylvia had encouraged her to wear in public. She smoothed down the front of her jewel-blue traveling gown and exhaled. I can do this.

  “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Bane asked, leaving the bags with the Wickford Landing crew to load aboard the steamboat, Eolus, for their short journey to Newport.

  “I know it is silly, but the idea of being on any kind of boat again after my ferry trips makes me remember.” She clenched her skirt in her fists. “I’m not running from my past, truly, but it—it sparks my anxiety, and I’m afraid of what may happen if the spark turns into a wildfire.”

  He drew her hand through his arm. “It’s not silly in the slightest. You are still recovering from a traumatic time. You have to give yourself time to heal. If you’re not ready, we can find another place for you to recover.”

  He was right, of course. The facade of strength that had taken her years to build had tumbled in only days in the asylum, and she was left vulnerable. “Tell me again what’s in Newport to propel me onto this steamboat.”

  He pressed a kiss atop her hand and grinned. “Well, it’s not crowded, most of the reporters will not follow you, and there will be nothing for you to do but rest and paint and do all of your favorite things. There is also that pie shop in town you’ve been dreaming of for a decade that we can go to every day if you wish.”

  “Every day?” She wet her lips, her gaze flickering to the plank again. Could she do it for the sake of Miss Penny’s Pie Shop?

  His grin faded into a furrowed brow, and he lowered his voice. “Certainly, but in all seriousness, I do not want to push you into doing something that you aren’t ready to attempt. It could be counterproductive to your healing. I can always send for pie to be delivered here. You do not have to do this.”

  “No, no. I can do this. I want to do this.” She squeezed his hand and they stepped aboard. The plank was the worst part, but once on the promenade deck of the steamboat, the luxury of the boat banished the ferry from her mind and she began to feel herself relax.

  “So, what would you like to do first when we arrive?” Bane asked as they leaned over the rail to watch the rest of the passengers board.

  “Stop at Miss Penny’s in town on the way to Blakely Manor. And if her pie shop is closed, given the hour, we will pay her as much as it takes to get a pie,” she replied without hesitation. When she summered in Newport, her family would purchase a whole pie every Saturday and eat it in place of dinner. She grinned, thinking how their weekly trips to the pie shop were most likely responsible for her plump waistline as a girl.

  A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped back and into the present, lifting her hand as if to block a strike. But she dropped it at once at the sight of the regal woman peering down at her.

  “My apologies for startling you, but are you not Edyth Foster?”

  Recognizing the society matron, Edyth dipped into a curtsy. “Mrs. Finley. What a surprise.”

  Her brow arched. “Yes, so it would seem. Who is this charming gentleman with you?”

  Remembering the woman’s abrupt manner from that fatal season six years ago, Edyth cleared her throat. “This is my husband, Mr. Raoul Banebridge.”

  “Mr. Banebridge of the New York fencing club?” Her eyes sparkled. “I never thought you would marry, what with your nose always stuck in that club, otherwise I would have presented my own daughter to you.”

  “Well, that’s what businesses require these days,” he replied, taking Edyth’s hand in his.

  Her lips pursed at his remark and intimate action. “In any event, I was not expecting to see anyone from the old families heading to Newport with it being the off-season there and all. You must join my husband and me for dinner at our residence in Newport tomorrow night.”

  Edyth pressed her fingers into his arm. No. Mrs. Finley had made her debut season miserable, and as she was no longer forced to subject herself to the society matron, she did not feel compelled to humor her now.

  Bane sighed and shook his head remorsefully. “It is with our deepest regret that we must decline. This is our wedding trip.”

  “Which is why I am being so kind as to extend you an invitation, despite my past interactions with your wife. I’ll expect you at seven o’clock.”

  “We cannot attend you. I apologize,” Bane replied, his tone reflecting only the barest hint of his agitation.

  Mrs. Finley’s mouth fell open before she corrected herself. “Why on earth? No one else on the island is aware of your arrival, and you surely do not have plans, as I know all who are worth knowing
on the island.”

  “We plan to be by ourselves, actually,” Edyth interjected.

  Mrs. Finley’s cheeks tinted. “Excuse me for saying so, but anyone would be happy to dine with us, since we are in the elite Four Hundred, a most coveted position, as you very well know. If you were to dine with my family, your standing would be greatly increased, and I’m sure the sins of your past would be wiped clean, dear Edyth, which is why I am offering this as a wedding gift to you.”

  “I beg your pardon for any disrespect, Mrs. Finley, but I’m not sure you understand why I declined. It’s our wedding holiday and we wish to be by ourselves. I doubt we would even consider dining with the queen of England.” He looked at Edyth with mischievous eyes and swept her lips into a passionate kiss, blurring the world.

  “Well, I never.” Mrs. Finley whisked her skirts behind her and continued down the promenade.

  Edyth broke the kiss and ducked her face into his shoulder and giggled. “You are positively wicked, Raoul. But thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” He winked at her and continued their walk, in the opposite direction that Mrs. Finley had taken, enjoying the brisk afternoon air. “I say, wasn’t Mrs. Finley the one hosting that party where you—”

  “Yes, yes! She was the hostess at the party where my society debut season died, but shall we make our way to the main cabin for tea? I haven’t dined on the steamboat in a decade, but I remember their fare being rather tasty, and it will help pass the hour to the port.”

  Entering the long main cabin, Edyth took in the familiar grandeur of the Eolus with its opulent molding and four chandeliers across the length of the room. The waiter showed them to a small round table in the corner of the room, but not bothering to look at the menu, Edyth gave her order for high tea, intent on enjoying herself even if high tea was beyond the fashionable hour.

  “Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” Bane asked, his eyes sparking as the waiter left.

  Edyth grunted. “You are not going to let that one stay unaddressed, are you?”

  He grinned, leaning both elbows on the table and cupping his chin in his hands as if he were a boy and she was about to tell the most delightful story.

  She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. He would find out the truth eventually. “Fine. Many years ago, I read an article about a petticoat duel between two women. Even though it was with pistols, it led to me researching about other female duelists.”

  Bane blinked and sat back in his chair. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You should know about them since you are such an accomplished fencing instructor. There was a pair of women who dueled with swords only last year. It was in all the papers! Didn’t you read about it?”

  “I seemed to have missed that article.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

  “I don’t know how, given your vocation, but anyway—” She waved her hand dismissively while fully intending on finding said articles and sharing them with her husband. “Not long ago, women would duel just as men, and well, with that parcel of history fresh on my mind—”

  “Oh Edyth, please tell me this isn’t leading where I think it is?” He ran his hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

  She sucked in through her teeth and charged ahead to the awful truth that she had kept from him for years. “As I was saying, that snippy Heather Finley, who is a miniature of her mother, made a few choice remarks on my dress and the reason why a certain gentleman wasn’t giving me the time of day and—”

  “Certain gentleman? You don’t mean …” Bane’s jaw dropped.

  Her cheeks blazed. “Yes, you dear. Even at that age, I carried a torch for you. Well, Miss Heather Finley told me she was interested in you enough to hire you as her private instructor and goaded me by saying that you seemed to be interested in her, which you weren’t, correct?” She looked pointedly at her husband.

  He shrugged. “I must admit that I have only a dim recollection of a Miss Heather Finley.”

  “Good, because, well, Miss Finley insinuated you had kissed her.” She crossed her arms, one brow lifting.

  “What! I never—” Bane halted as his voice had drawn the glances of travelers about the room.

  “I know, which is why I defended your honor against her accusation that you had kissed her, promised marriage, and then jilted her.”

  Bane threw up his hands. “That is utterly ridiculous. What could she have possibly gained from telling you such a falsehood and bringing herself such unnecessary embarrassment?”

  “Because she was planning on forcing your hand into a match or seizing your assets in recompense of a breach of promise. So I did the only thing I could think of to challenge her outlandish claims.”

  “Don’t tell me….” He grimaced.

  “Jasper Wentworth was not the first I have challenged to a duel and beaten,” she muttered under her breath, relieved that the tea had arrived along with the tier of sandwiches, miniature quiches, and little cakes.

  Bane nodded his thanks to the waiter, but the moment the man departed, he returned his attention to Edyth, his brows rising in expectation. But Edyth began pouring the tea, refusing to return to the subject at hand. The unexpectedly heavy pot made her shoulder ache, causing her to slosh the tea into one of the saucers, and she quickly set it down.

  “Let me.” Bane filled their cups, and she again felt eyes on them as he handed her one. “And I am assuming that duel was the nail in your society coffin?”

  She nodded and took a tentative sip of tea. “Excellent deduction. The Finleys, of course, never allowed the tale of the duel to leave the family, but they spread a rumor that as a parentless debutante, I lacked certain manners to be welcome in that elite circle, despite my fortune and heritage.”

  Still laughing, Bane finished off his finger sandwich. “Only you, Edyth. Only you.”

  “But I’m not the only one. Women duelists are a real thing,” she protested.

  He rolled his eyes. “I would have heard about this long before, if that were the case.”

  She snatched up a petit four and stuffed it into his mouth, staying his argument.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d rather leave the master room vacant,” Edyth whispered to Bane as she stared at the massive chamber where the maid had escorted them.

  Bane turned to the maid. “Thank you so much for your preparations, but I think Mrs. Banebridge would prefer her old rooms instead of the master.”

  The maid kept her expression smooth and bobbed into a short curtsy. “Of course, sir. It will take the staff about a half hour to prepare, but please call or pull a bell cord for anything, should you have need.”

  Edyth gripped his hand and pulled him along for a tour of the house, showing him the ballroom, library, and finally the studio, which overlooked the ocean. He turned and saw the paintings from young Edyth. None of them were a study of hands.

  He picked up a sketch of a fencer that was partially painted. “This is rather impressive for such a young artist. Why, I think I recognize this young fencer as me?”

  She smiled. “I had forgotten all about it. It was meant to be a gift for you, but I left it here by mistake and then, well, I lost my courage to give it to you, and when my parents died, I never thought of it again.”

  He took in the lines, admiring her work at such a tender age. “You were talented even then.”

  “My father thought so, but I always thought he felt that way because he was my father.”

  “May I keep it?” he asked, lifting the painting in question.

  “It’s always been meant for you.” She propped both hands against the windowsill. “I’m feeling rather dizzy from all the traveling.”

  He was by her side in an instant and wrapped his arm around her waist. “I’m sorry. I should have had you sit while they made up the room.”

  Edyth leaned into his arm in a way that let him know how exhausted she must truly be. “It’s no one’s fault but my own. I did too much.”

  He swept her
into his arms, his boots clicking on the marble floors as he carried her to the beautiful peach-colored room of her childhood. At the sight of them, the three maids straightened from their place at the side of the bed, fixing the fresh linens. “We are almost done, sir.”

  He looked about the room. All the furniture had the white dustcloths removed, their trunks were standing open in one corner, the fireplace was roaring, and a vase of fresh crimson roses was on the nightstand. “I’m afraid Mrs. Banebridge is feeling poorly, so if you all could finish up in the morning, that would be better. Can you send up a tray of tea and that pie we brought with us?”

  The women curtsied, and the head maid with mousy brown hair, who earlier had introduced herself as Sally, answered, “Certainly, sir.”

  “And if one of you wouldn’t mind assisting me, I would love to get out of this wretched corset and into my robe,” Edyth said, pulling at the top of the corset confining her.

  Sally motioned the other maids out as she retrieved the needed items from the trunk and Edyth stepped behind the dressing screen. Bane kept his back to the screen, focusing instead on the fireplace until Edyth reappeared in a lilac dressing robe and sank onto the bed as the tray arrived.

  Throughout their small feast atop the comforter, Bane noticed Edyth’s rattling, wearied breathing but refrained from commenting on it.

  “The pie was even more wonderful than I remembered!” Edyth yawned behind her hand, sinking further into the pillow.

  “And I fully intend on purchasing another as soon as it’s gone,” Bane agreed. He stood and gathered the tray, setting it in the hallway and closing the door. “If you don’t mind, I’ll sleep on the settee as I did at the estate. I’d hate to accidentally hurt your shoulder in my sleep.”

  “There is plenty of room for the two of us in bed,” she protested, her ears turning pink. “I think it is ridiculous for you to lose sleep on account of my shoulder.”

  “Well, you’ll find out sooner or later, but I’m what’s called a thrasher. I don’t sleep in one position all night. As boys, my brothers all refused to share a bed with me after I inadvertently gave each of them a clawed eye or bruised cheek on multiple occasions.”