A Tale of Two Hearts

by Michelle Griep

  The two grey heads turned to once again face each other. Defeated, Will shuffled out of the room. Apparently the truth battle was one he’d have to wage the following day.

  He retraced his steps up to the first floor, then stalked down the dimly lit corridor. A light still glowed beneath Mina’s door, and he couldn’t help but grin as he imagined her taking down her hair and brushing it until the reddish glints shone like fire.

  Passing on, he took care to edge toward the far side of the wall as he drew close to his cousins’ door. No light glowed in the crack near their threshold. Good. Then neither Percy nor Alice would hear his footsteps as he stole down to the empty chamber at the end of the passageway.

  But just as he padded by, the door swung open.

  Will froze, praying he’d blend in with the shadows. As long as whoever it was didn’t look his way—

  “What are you doing roaming the corridor?” Percy’s voice stabbed him in the back.

  He turned, heart pounding—then angled his head. Why the deuce would his cousin be dressed head to toe in black, from the tips of his shoes, to his overcoat, to the dark hat clapped atop his head? “I could ask the same of you, Cousin. By the looks of it, you’re in deep mourning and are about to go out to haunt the night.” Percy scowled. “Isn’t your room there?” He lifted a finger and pointed back toward the blue room. “Why are you going in the opposite direction of your chamber?”

  He stared down his nose, challenging Percy with a glower. “Just stretching my legs.”

  “As am I.”

  Will narrowed his eyes. Should he call the man on it? Clearly his cousin was up to no good…but then again, neither was he. He swept out his hand and gave Percy a little bow. “Enjoy your walk then.”

  “You as well.” The sentiment was completely devoid of warmth, and in fact shivered in the space between them.

  Percy turned, defiance hanging as thick and dark in the air as the shadows. Which one of them would discover the other’s business first?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The beating of my heart was so violent and wild that I felt as if my life were breaking from me.

  Bleak House

  Some days were the stuff made of dreams. This had been one, despite the slight shadow that it seemed Uncle Barlow purposely avoided a private conversation with either her or Will. But even so, Mina had still relished her morning stroll outside in an enchanted world of snow, dazzling like a thousand candlelit crystals. The afternoon was equally as magical, spent in a library nook in a greatly overstuffed chair with the time to untether her imagination. And most especially enthralling was catching the man she loved in the act of gazing at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

  Mina hid a smile, but she couldn’t conceal the pink that surely coloured her heated cheeks. Though Will stood on the other side of the drawing room in conversation with Percy, he always seemed to be aware of her—and that was the best dream of all.

  On the settee, Uncle Barlow entertained Miss Whymsy with a botanical book and a magnifying glass—or did Miss Whymsy entertain him? Hard to tell, judging by the way their heads bowed together, sharing a secret laugh. Ahh, but this was a good respite for her older friend, for Mina suspected Miss Whymsy labored far too hard at the institute. The woman never did things by half measure.

  Alice played a haunting tune on the piano, the last minor chords hovering on the air like an omen. Then she looked up and pinned Mina in place with the lift of her brow. “Mina, do come over here, would you? I think I’ve provided my fair portion of music for the evening. It is only right you share your talents, for I wouldn’t dream of overshadowing your abilities.”

  She froze. The only thing she knew how to play was a short hand of whist, and even at that, her card skills were lacking. But music? Despite the many times she’d begged her father for lessons, there’d never been time or money. “I am sorry,” she paused, searching for the right combination of words. “But I…I haven’t played in years.”

  Immediately she bit the inside of her cheek. Was it a lie if she’d honestly not played in any of her years?

  “A shame. I suppose William hasn’t been able to afford a proper pianoforte for you. Even so, I have a remedy.” Shuffling through papers, Alice pulled one out and held it up. “Ahh, here it is. I shall play, and you shall sing.”

  “Oh, I don’t know…”

  Uncle Barlow set down his magnifying glass and closed the book. “There’s no need for such modesty here. Amongst friends, one should be able to share anything, especially one’s voice.”

  Had ever a fox in a trap felt so ensnared? There was no possible way to get out of this short of feigning a sudden death.

  Straightening her shoulders, she desperately hoped to find courage in good posture, then crossed over to Alice. Unless the woman had chosen a hymn or a pub song, it wasn’t likely she’d be able to sing a word. She stopped at the end of the piano as the first chords rang out, each one unfamiliar. The expectancy in Uncle Barlow’s eyes gleamed brilliant. Her corset bit into her ribs as she tried to control her frantic breathing. How to salvage this farce? Think. Think!

  But nothing came to mind, least of all any lyrics. And why should they? She’d only read of ladies and high society. She surely didn’t know what they’d sing, which only served to drive home the fact that no matter how much she’d like to, she didn’t belong here. Sneaking a glance over her shoulder, she eyed Alice, and a niggling thought crept out like a spider…did she really want to belong here, or would it turn her into a callous, hurtful woman such as Will’s cousin? Apparently wealth alone didn’t guarantee her life would have any more meaning than Alice’s spiteful existence. Why had she wasted so many years thinking otherwise?

  The music ground to a halt, pulling her from her thoughts, and she snapped her gaze to the floor, preferring to study the hem of her skirt rather than witness the disappointment in Uncle Barlow’s eyes.

  “That was your cue, Mina.” Alice taunted from the keyboard. “Yet no matter. I’ll begin again.”

  Unbearable heat churned up from her belly, and humiliation choked her. Suddenly she was eight years old again, standing amidst a circle of girls. Several pointing. Some laughing. All listening to the awful Mary Blake poke fun at her for being the daughter of a lunatic. Tears filled her eyes, blurring the world.

  “How about something more seasonal? Alice, do you mind?”

  She looked up to see Will wink at her as he strode to the piano keys. He forced Alice to yield the bench by his stare alone. Gently at first, then with more gusto, the opening chords of “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” filled the room like a gathering of old friends. This she could sing, and her knees weakened when Will joined in, his bass voice adding harmony. Even Uncle Barlow and Miss Whymsy sang along.

  By the time the last note faded, Alice frowned. “That was quaint.” She looped her arm through Mina’s and pulled her away from the piano. “But I am tired of music. Let us take a turn about the room.”

  Unable to escape, Mina padded beside the tall woman, tongue lying fallow, heart fluttering. Why the sudden attention from Alice? Though she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this woman was a tiger hiding in the weeds, waiting to spring.

  Alice didn’t speak until they passed out of ear range of where Percy had once again cornered Will. “So, Mina, you don’t sing the classics. You don’t play. Where did you say you were educated?”

  “I didn’t.” She let out a breath. That had been an easy answer.

  “You didn’t say, or you didn’t have an education? Which is it?”

  “I didn’t say.”

  “Hmm.” Alice eyed her sideways, her powdered face flawless in the sconce light. Maddeningly so. Except for the woman’s cruel disposition, Alice overshadowed her in every way. “Where did you and William meet? Who introduced you? Perhaps I know the person.” She forced her arm to remain steady where it touched against Alice’s, though surely if God struck her down for lying, her stillness would be in vain. “
We met at…an establishment, and I doubt very much if you’d know any of our acquaintances.”

  “An establishment?” Alice pecked at the word like a vulture looking for the tastiest bits of meat. “Interesting. How long did you say you’ve been married?”

  La! What was it Will had told her? A year? Nine months? Though she tried to recall what they’d worked out, the way Alice stared at her obliterated all her thoughts. “I…em…”

  “Let me guess, you didn’t say that either. I wonder if you can. A nondescript past, a nebulous engagement, and a mysterious marriage. That is more than intriguing.” Alice stopped and turned, folding her hands in front of her as if they chatted about nothing more than ribbon colours or button sizes. “I find it interesting that a young woman so clearly in love hasn’t much to say about her courtship or her husband…unless of course, he is not her husband.”

  Cold dread washed over her. Alice knew? How in the world? Or was the woman simply fishing for a scandal? Either way, the best option—the only option—was to exit as soon as possible. Mina threw back her shoulders, hoping such a regal pose would put Alice off—leastwise for now. “This turn of conversation is absurd. I am feeling tired, and I should like to retire now. Good night, Alice. I will see you on the morrow.”

  “Good night. Oh, and I won’t bother sending William up after you, for I don’t suppose it will matter what time he frequents the empty chamber at the end of the corridor, hmm?” Half a smile lifted the woman’s lips, but it had nothing to do with mirth or amusement. “Though I must admit I am unsure if I should pity or scorn you for being such a naive little girl. At least Elizabeth knew what she’d been doing when her and Will had been together.”

  Mina whirled, praying the movement wouldn’t be as panicky on the outside as the turmoil churning inside her. Forcing an impossible calmness to her steps, she strode toward the door—fighting the urge to bolt.

  But as soon as she cleared the threshold, she raced to the stairs, and tears turned the world into a smear.

  Oh, how she longed to go home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Lies is lies. Howsever they come, they didn’t ought to come, and they come from the father of lies, and work round to the same.

  Great Expectations

  Will kept one eye trained on Mina while she strolled arm in arm with Alice, all the while listening to Percy blather on about the merits of steam engines. Something wasn’t right about Alice’s focused attention on Mina—and something was definitely wrong in the way Mina strode to the door with clipped steps and disappeared without a good night to anyone.

  “Excuse me.” He held up a hand to Percy, cutting him off. “It’s been a long day. I bid you good night.”

  “Oh? Do you need a good leg stretcher tonight as well?”

  “I could ask the same the same of you, Cousin. Any more clandestine meetings to attend?”

  A tic pinched the skin at the corner of Percy’s right eye. “Keep your nose out of my business, and perhaps I shall return the favor.”

  Will wheeled about, tired of Percy’s games—and even wearier of his own.

  “That’s it. Run off to your cold bed in the spare room.”

  Percy’s retort stabbed him in the back as he dashed out the door. How like his cousin to hold his cards close to his chest and pull one out at the most inopportune moment. Hopefully Uncle hadn’t overheard.

  But he’d have to deal with that later. For now, the way Mina flew up the stairway concerned him most. What horrid thing had Alice said to her?

  “Mina, wait.” He took the stairs two at a time.

  She turned at the landing, face impossibly pale. Eyes so wide, she looked as if she’d not only seen a ghost, but held hands with one.

  On impulse, he reached out and rubbed his hands along her upper arms, hoping to soothe. “What has you in such a state? What did Alice say to you?”

  “She knows, Will.” A little sob punctuated her words. “At least she suspects. And if your Uncle hears it from her—”

  “Knows what?”

  “That we are unwed.”

  He shook his head. “She can’t possibly know that, not for certain. Please, Mina, don’t fret. All will be well. This shall soon be over, I promise.”

  “I—” Her voice cracked. “I know.”

  Huge tears welled in her eyes, brimming like raindrops and shimmering in the lamplight. His heart twisted at the sight. Grabbing her hand, he led her away from the landing and into the corridor, out of view should anyone chance to leave the drawing room.

  He turned to her well before they reached her chamber door, unwilling to spend another second without easing the burden that drove her to weep. Reaching out, he cupped her face, catching her tears before they dampened her cheeks. “Tell me true, Mina. What is wrong? Did I not say this would soon be over?”

  “That’s just it! This will all be over soon. And then what? We go back to being what we were, me serving you ale once a week while you and Mr. Fitzroy swap jokes?” She threw out her hands, the passion in her eyes far too alluring. “Is any of this even real?”

  “It is.” Without thinking, he bent, and his mouth came down on hers. The heat of a thousand suns burned along every nerve and settled low in his belly. Everything went oddly quiet. The hiss of the gas lamps. The beat of his heart. There was nothing else but Mina’s sweet taste. Her breath. Her softness. A tremor shook through him, and he hungered for more. Every other kiss in his life had been wrong. He knew that now—and would never again kiss another.

  “Mina,” he whispered against her lips, her jawline, her neck. Lost. Hopelessly, wonderfully lost.

  A low moan sounded in her throat, sobering him. What was he doing? He pulled back.

  Mina’s eyes were yet closed, lashes impossibly long against her cheeks. She lifted a shaky finger to her lips and absently rubbed a mouth yet swollen with his kisses. Was she remembering—or abhorring?

  He sucked in a breath. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have taken such a liberty. I don’t usually—”

  Her eyes popped open, and an unnatural brilliance shone in them…a fevered kind of fury.

  “Don’t you? Did you kiss Elizabeth like that as well?” she hissed.

  The question slapped him in the face—hard—and he recoiled a step. “How do you know of her?”

  “Your cousins have mentioned her several times.” The red glints in her hair matched the colour rising in her cheeks. “Was she another one of your pretend brides?”

  He spun away as if struck, tensing every muscle in his body. “No,” he gritted out. “She was to be my real bride.” The truth hung thick between them.

  “I’ve heard enough. Good night, William.”

  “Mina, wait!” He pivoted back. “I can explain. Let me explain.”

  “No. I’m done with your explanations. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t.” Her voice shook. “The twisted truths. The deceit. I…” She shook her head, knocking loose a single curl. “I will be leaving in the morning.”

  “Mina, don’t do this.” The thought of losing her drove the breath from his lungs. He was as thoroughly sick of deception as she, but dare he voice the truth he could no longer deny? “I…” Swallowing, he reached for her and pulled her close. “I love you, Mina. With all my heart.”

  She stiffened beneath his touch. Blinking. Face the colour of parchment. “I wish I could believe that. I really do.” Her voice was a shiver of cold wind. “But I meant what I said. I am leaving in the morning.”

  Wrenching from his grasp, she whirled, the hem of her skirt snapping against his legs.

  “Mina!”

  He followed her frenzied pace, but too late. She reached her chamber door and slammed it in his face before he could catch her, the slide of the bolt overloud as it shot into place. He stood alone in the corridor with naught but the echo and far too many regrets.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down.

 
; A Tale of Two Cities

  Lethargic light, a sickly sort of blue-grey, leached through the open drapery like a spreading bruise. Clutching the second-chance coin, Mina shoved off the bed, fully dressed, more wrinkled than the counterpane she’d wrestled with all night. Weary to the very marrow of her bones, she paced to the window and pressed her forehead against the glass. The coldness of it shocked and jarred—and she welcomed the bite.

  “I love you, Mina. With all my heart.”

  Will’s words of the night before haunted relentlessly, and she squeezed the coin all the tighter. Did he really mean it, or was it his desperate attempt to get her to stay? She’d give anything to believe his love was true, but though she tried, she just couldn’t. The coin pressed hard into her skin. She could give him another chance to explain about Elizabeth, but even if she did, how would she know for sure he spoke truth?

  She blew out a breath, fogging a clouded circle on the window. Mostly she just wanted to go home. She missed Father’s bellowing and Cook’s mumblings of “peas and porridge.” Life at the Golden Egg was a lackluster existence compared to the eminence and elegance of this country estate, but it was her existence. And more importantly, it was real. Not a charade. Without truth as a base, even living the lifestyle of the wealthy didn’t give her life meaning. Maybe—perhaps—true meaning in life had nothing to do with outward trappings but with inward genuineness.

  A foreign longing welled to run back to the inn and embrace her dull life. She was done with pretending. And done with casting Will as a hero, for he had been a dream. A fleeting, make-believe man she’d invented—and who’d fallen woefully short. She’d love to blame him, to rage and rail against his shortcomings, but truly, was she not as culpable for expecting more out of him than was humanly possible?

  Oh, God. I have been so wrong. Please, forgive me.

  Outside, an ember of sun lit the charcoal sky. Across the courtyard, the door to the stables opened, and a young man strolled out, dressed for the day’s work of tending horses. Good. Then it wouldn’t be too soon to request a ride into town.