I love you. The words reverberate through my head, her voice mingling with his. It’s too much, too soon. Too potent and painful. It shakes me out of my hiding place, dissolves the dark shroud of my outer persona. “He broke my heart, all right?” I hate the way my voice closes up as I deliver my truth.
“All right,” Nina says with a calm and gentle grace. “Tell me about it. I’ll listen.”
“It’s…it’s not just my story to tell. There are things about him I can’t share.”
“Then tell me your side.”
I’m silent as I ponder what to say, surprised at the relief that washes over me at the prospect of telling her even a fraction of all that I’ve bottled inside. When I speak, my voice is barely above a whisper. “I opened up. I trusted him. I gave him my heart and believed that things would work between us. Believed his promises that he was willing to do what was necessary to make it so. But just like with Oswald, when it came down to it, he couldn’t fight for me. He couldn’t do what he needed to do.”
“What did he need to do?”
“Give up something that he cherished more than me.” As I say it, guilt tugs at my heart, unearthing more that needs to be confessed. “I understand why he wasn’t willing to give it up. If it was reversed, I wouldn’t have made the sacrifice either. We both value freedom too much. Which makes us wrong for each other.”
Nina doesn’t ask me to elaborate, just says, “Did he explain why?”
“He didn’t need to.” But as I say it, my stomach sinks. He did try to explain, but I refused to hear him out. I put words in his mouth, words that are probably truer than whatever garbage he was about to spew. And yet, Nina has a point.
“Gemma, you do always tend to expect the worst of people.”
“When have I ever been wrong? If I would have expected the worst of people from the start, I would have known not to trust Oswald.”
“Somehow, you still managed to trust Mr. Rochester.”
“Oh, and how did that work out?”
Nina releases a frustrated sigh. “What I’m trying to say is, you can’t let one terrible man ruin your happiness forever. You managed to get over what happened with the Viscount of Brekshire enough to give Mr. Rochester a chance. Even if things didn’t work out, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth a try. I saw how happy you looked when you danced with him, and I refuse to believe that, at least for a time, it wasn’t all worth it.”
Her words remind me of the conclusion I came to when I danced with Elliot at the ball. I’d been so ready to lose him, at peace with it even, knowing that having him in my life for a time had made it better. Maybe it doesn’t have to last forever to be real.
Then he ruined everything, turned all my warm thoughts of him bitter. If only that last, beautiful night between us hadn’t happened, then I could let him marry Imogen with nothing more than a bitter ache in my heart instead of this seething, venomous hurt.
As I think it, another echo weaves through my thoughts. If only I could go back to last night…to before I knew you loved me back. Erase all that happened after. At least then I could do this without losing the only thing that matters to me.
I shift uncomfortably in my chair, not wanting to unpack what he meant by that. Why would our night together have made it harder for him to sacrifice his unseelie form? Shouldn’t it have been easier, knowing he had something tangible to sacrifice it for? It shouldn’t have even crossed his mind before he knew I loved him back.
Nina must see the conflict on my face. “Maybe you should let him explain.”
“It’s too late,” I say, my voice cracking. “Besides, you tend to think far too highly of others. There’s nothing he could say to make this right. It’s over, and I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”
“Then what about you? Are you really going to give up on your dreams? I know you want to be more than just someone’s wife. You want freedom and true love—”
“I don’t want love.”
“What you don’t want is Gavin Aston.”
A spark of anger ignites inside me, snapping me out of my apathy. “What else am I to do? Everything you warned me about has come to pass. Father will kick me out if I don’t accept Mr. Aston’s hand, and my job prospects are over in this town.”
Nina rises from her seat only to sink down in front of my chair, taking my hands in hers. She looks up at me with so much love and adoration that it pains me to see. “You are clever and you are beautiful and you have never once stopped fighting.”
I close my eyes, blocking out the sight of her. Her faith in me is too strong, too heavy. “I’m just so tired, Nina.”
“It’s okay to be tired,” she says. “But don’t give up. Don’t let the spark die out. It’s who you are.”
I keep my eyes closed, listening as she rises to her feet and leaves the room. Once I know I’m alone, I open my eyes, and with that comes an avalanche of tears. Just when I thought I could cry no more, sobs erupt from my throat. This time, they feel not like an exercise in grief but a cathartic release. When it’s over, the same feeling I felt at the end of my waltz with Elliot comes over me. The same thing I felt after I read the book about the boy and the dog.
A bittersweet peace that’s as painful as it is warm.
38
Gavin arrives shortly after two in the afternoon. It’s just me and him, and we gather around the tea table. He sits in a chair while I take my place on the couch. Susan, the maid, brings tea and cookies, and an awkward silence falls between us. I feel a strong urge to wrap my false persona around me, but for once I ignore that instinct. After my conversation with Nina, I’ve determined to face this head on as myself. Unguarded. Unarmed.
Just me.
Gavin reaches for the teapot and fills both our cups. Then, with shaking hands, he brings his cup to his lips and takes a sip. I do the same.
“Well, I suppose I should confess why I’m here,” he says, replacing his cup on the saucer. “Although, I’m sure you’ve already guessed. I’ve made my admiration of you very clear, if not directly to you, then to your family and friends. You could hardly be surprised by my visit today.”
“No, I am not surprised,” I say, tone flat.
He seems encouraged by this, lips stretching into a smile as he stands and approaches the couch. Just as he takes a seat next to me, I rise and slowly make my way to the other side of the table. There I face him. Not with scorn or my well-trained haughty grin, but with open curiosity.
“Why do you like me, Mr. Aston?”
His brows weave together, and he stumbles over his words before he finds his answer. “You must know I find you very beautiful,” he says with a blush.
“What else?”
He straightens his cravat and clears his throat. “Well, you’re the smartest, cleverest girl in Vernon.”
“How do you know? Have you spoken to every woman in town?”
“I need not acquaint myself with everyone to know your wit is unparalleled. Our few conversations were more than enough.”
“And how do you know I’m smart?”
“I saw you holding my favorite book,” he says. “The fact that you admire the same eloquent literature that I do—”
“Did you not see when I gave the book back to Mr. Cordell?”
He tilts his head, a ponderous look on his face. “Oh, yes, I suppose you did.”
“Here’s the thing, Mr. Aston. Your entire impression of me has been flawed from the start. I admit, it’s a romantic idea to fancy another over mutual admiration of a book, but even if that had been true in our case, it doesn’t guarantee compatibility, much less love. And the truth is, I have never read Infinite Suffering in the Garden of Happenstance, nor will I ever, for one look told me it’s the most dull and uninteresting thing I’d ever have the horror to behold. You see, the book was misshelved. In truth, I read romance novels. The kind with whirlwind love, passionate affairs, and happily ever afters. That is who I am.”
He rubs the back of his neck, his bl
ush growing deeper as he stares at the tea table. Then, with a short laugh, he returns his gaze to mine. “It’s a funny story, meeting over a misshelved book. I’m quite amused, actually. Even more so that you feared this truth would make me think less of you or your intelligence. On the contrary, I only think more of it now.”
I clench my jaw. “I didn’t tell you this because I feared you’d think less of my intelligence. I said it to illustrate the fact that you don’t know me. Not enough to make the declaration of love and marriage that you came here for.”
He rises to his feet, fervor in his eyes as he rounds the table to stand before me. “You’re wrong,” he says, taking my hands in his. “I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you, and I love you still. I’m more than willing to ignore the scathing rumors circulating town about you. That’s how much I love you. I love you so much that I will save you from this scandal and make every gossiper regret the day they spoke ill of you.”
“I do not need to be saved from this scandal.” I pull my hands from his and take a step back, a slightly hysteric amusement creeping up my throat and drawing up the corners of my lips. “I don’t need to be saved from it, because it’s likely all true. I worked for Mr. Rochester, lived at his manor, and I spent many unchaperoned moments with him.”
Gavin shakes his head. “I’m not so conservative as some of the others in town are. You are a grown woman in charge of her own mind. At least before you marry. I trust your judgment—”
“I fell in love with him,” I say, cutting him off. “We went so far as to have an affair. A very physical one, just to be clear.”
His eyes widen, throat bobbing as he swallows his defense of me.
“Before my family came here, I was involved in another affair, one with the Viscount of Brekshire. Rumors of that scandal are true as well, aside from the part that paints me as the instigator. In both cases I was in love and willing. In both cases, I don’t regret exploring my passions. Only the repercussions of my lovers’ false hearts.”
Gavin goes a shade paler, a sheen of sweat coating his brow. “I…I would be a hypocrite to deny a woman’s right to…to do as she wishes with her body, as men aren’t expected to be chaste themselves.” He swallows hard, as if keeping bile from rising in his throat, then lowers his voice to a whisper. “But a lady should never speak so freely of such things, especially not to a suitor. Just as a gentleman keeps his…romantic past discreet.”
I take a few steps back, then lower into a chair. Sitting tall, I cross one leg over the other and place my hands firmly on the armrests. “Mr. Aston, if you came to me expecting me to be a lady by society’s definition, then you are even more misinformed about my true character than I first thought. This is who I am. I read romance novels, I speak my mind, and I have no patience for gossip. I will never try to fit in to a town like Vernon, but I will go to great lengths to find just the right place for me someday. I guarantee that place will not be amongst human high society. In addition, I have loved and am still in love with Elliot Rochester. We will never be together, but right now I hate him and love him in equal measure, and I am not ready to heal from that.”
My own honesty takes me by surprise, and with it comes another truth. “I will heal, though. Someday. But even when I do, I doubt you and I will be right for each other. You see, I want love from someone who knows me inside and out. Not someone who sees my past as a string of follies, but as building blocks that have made me who I am now. And the man who loves me will not ask me to hide, ignore, or keep any part of me or my past under lock and key. He will love me just as I am. Now, tell me, Mr. Aston. Does that sound like you?”
He’s grown even paler during my tirade and seems to shrink in on himself with every second that ticks by. I hold his gaze, my expression neutral. This is his chance. His one chance to prove my prior judgments about him were wrong. Nina was right when she said I always expect the worst of people, so I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe there’s more to him than there seems now, just like there was with Elliot. Maybe there’s common ground between us.
He takes a step back, and another, averting his eyes. Then, turning silently on his heel, he leaves the parlor, leaving his proposal unsaid.
Unsurprisingly, Father comes next. He finds me standing at the window, watching the busy streets crawling with people, buzzing with automobiles, and swarming with carriages. The light dusting of snow has already turned brown from today’s traffic. I focus on the falling snowflakes as Father begins to shout. I find peace in their intricate patterns as they drift from the sky to the street. It brings me back to the quiet stillness of the mountains and helps me steel myself against Father’s rage. I neither look at him nor interrupt him as he continues to shout. Then finally, it ends with a question, one I don’t hear. Slowly, I turn to face him, and he repeats it.
“Why do you seek your own ruin?” Father’s chest heaves, his face crimson.
I reply with my own question. “Why do you hate me so much?”
He takes a step back, eyes wide as if I’ve stabbed him. “I don’t hate you, Gemma. Everything I’ve done for you has been out of love. But I can do no more, you’ve seen to that. You are too disobedient. If it seems like I love your sisters more, it is only because they obey. They give me no reason to be vexed by them.”
I shake my head. “Obedience isn’t love, Father. Forcing your daughter into an unwanted marriage isn’t love.”
“It’s been enough for your sisters. Why isn’t it for you?”
I turn to face him. “Because they were willing. They fell in love with their first prospects, and their suitors loved them back.”
Father shakes a forbidding finger at me. “You could have had what they have if only you hadn’t set your sights on an engaged man.”
I close my eyes, keeping my rage from rising to meet his. “I’ve made mistakes, Father, but they are not what you think they are. I’m done hoping you’ll one day understand my perspective. I’m also done trying to be the daughter you want me to be, and I’m done fighting you. In the end, I don’t know you and you don’t know me. The father I loved died when my mother did, and the man that’s left isn’t worth my obedience, my anger, or my defiance.”
His voice comes out with a hiss. “How dare you. You ungrateful—” He raises a hand but halts. As if struck by physical pain, he winces and takes a step back, shaking his head as tears glaze his eyes. When he speaks, his voice breaks. “You want to know why I hate you, Gemma?”
My breath catches, my lungs constricting painfully tight. All I can do is nod.
“Because you remind me the most of her. Of your mother.”
His words sound so wrong leaving his lips. They should be tender, nostalgic, but instead are filled with disgust. It’s enough to build a sob in my chest, one I choke back with all the restraint I have.
Father continues. “She was wild and defiant like you. And look where that got her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She was never content to simply be a wife. I gave her everything. Children, a home, horses to tame, and chickens to raise. Still, she wanted more than she had any right to. She insisted on inserting herself into my business too. She wanted to visit our employees in the mines, see to their welfare. She didn’t have to be in the mine the day it collapsed. In fact, I forbade her from going when reports of instability in the deeper tunnels were reported. But did she listen? No. She wanted to check in with the workers herself, make sure they were well after she learned some had died of lung sickness. That defiance killed her.”
Sympathy tugs at my heart, but it feels profane alongside Father’s condemnation of Mother’s actions. It makes me question whether he was ever the man I thought he was, even when Mother was alive. At least then he seemed kind. Happy. “You didn’t have to let it harden you,” I say, my voice trembling with suppressed tears. “You didn’t have to give up on love and push the rest of us away.”
He clenches his jaw. “I didn’t give up, but
I am now. Your disobedience will be the death of you, just like it was for your mother, and I won’t wait around to watch it come to pass.” With that, he turns on his heel and stalks to the door. Before he leaves, he pauses beneath the threshold. “Tonight is the last night I will allow you in this house. Be gone by morning. I don’t care where you go.”
39
The next morning, I rise with the sun and pack a bag of my belongings. This includes only a single book, the very first in the Governess in Love series. It’s the book that made me fall in love with reading, and the one I’ve read more than any other. It will be a comforting companion in this next stage of my journey. Although packing just one book makes my heart ache with longing, it won’t be long before I can buy more books again or have the space to store them.
I check my purse, counting the quartz chips I’ve collected during my employment under Mr. Rochester. Even though I relinquished my rights to the twenty thousand quartz rounds when I had him dissolve our bargain, the three thousand quartz chips I’ve earned will at least be enough to pay for several weeks at a hotel and transport to a new town. I’ll stay a night or two in Vernon while I figure out where to go next and how to get there. Once I’ve relocated, I can begin looking for work. I’ll likely have to lower my standards on what I apply for, but at least I’ll be free from this town, the rumors, and the reminders of Elliot.
Free. Just like I always wanted. Maybe not in the way I wanted, but I shall be free nonetheless. It’s a bittersweet comfort. A somber triumph.
Dressed in my warmest dress and cloak, I leave my room with my bag in hand. Nina is in the hall, her eyes wet with tears. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have encouraged you to fight Father. I never imagined he’d truly kick you out.”
I give her a sad smile and place a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad you did, Nina. You reminded me of who I am.”
Curse of the Wolf King: A Beauty and the Beast Retelling (Entangled with Fae) Page 28
