Chapter Twenty-Three
M elissa remained still even though every fiber of her being had wanted to throw herself into John’s arms. While the painter’s brush scratched on the canvas, her heart grew heavier with the thoughts of John’s earnest proposal. His voice had trembled with sincerity, each word a plea wrapped in hope. He had knelt before her, eyes filled with a longing that made her chest tighten. The antique box he presented was beautiful yet bare, its emptiness mirroring the void she feared lay ahead for them both if she didn’t remain still for the painter.
Her eyes had met his, and she had seen the flicker of hurt cross his face, a momentary crack in his steadfast demeanor. She wished he could understand the turmoil swirling within her, the duty she felt bound to fulfill with Mrs. Dove-Lyon. The promise she had made to lend her form to Princess Caroline’s figure in the painting weighed on her, a silent chain that held her back. Melissa felt the truth settle in her chest like a leaden weight; she could not offer John a future built on an empty promise, much like the box he had held wasn’t a token of their engagement until everything fell into place.
“This has to suffice,” Melissa said when the sun had nearly set. Mrs. Dove-Lyon had flicked on the gas light in the room, but the painter had started to squint, and Melissa couldn’t sit still for another moment.
“Milady, I don’t think I can finish—”
But Mrs. Dove-Lyon rose from her seat and held out her hand. “Change into your own gown and take my carriage. I will settle this and make sure you are free.”
Melissa’s breath hitched. “Truly?”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon gave a soft nod. “I saw it in his eyes and heard every word. If you go now, you may still catch up with him.”
Melissa squeezed Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s hand. “Thank you!”
“This is what I do. I told you, I make matches; I don’t break them.”
“You’ve set me free!” Melissa’s voice quivered with tears.
Her hands trembled as she changed into her own dress, reveling at the exact fit. When she got to the black carriage, the driver held the door open for her and helped her in.
The air was crisp with freedom.
She was finally able to return to John head-high, no longer a mistress but the woman he promised to marry.
But when she sat on the dark velvet bench and the carriage set into motion, she hoped he’d still have her. Had the price she paid been too high? Was it too late?
Melissa’s mind turned faster than the landau’s wheels on the gravel road, but then the carriage came to a halt. She looked out the window, not expecting to see anything in particular, when her heart stopped.
A small carriage had turned over, and she heard cries for help. A large black mare pawed the ground, her ears flicking. John’s horse.
Before even the driver could catch up with her, Melissa pushed the door open and ran to the carriage. “John?” she shouted.
She reached the carriage, turned on its side, and saw John crouching behind it.
“What happened here?” she called.
“I’m losing him,” John mumbled. “Losing everything.” He was in shock, banging his foot against the bottom of the carriage, which had now become the side. “He’s stuck, and I can’t get him out! My boy!”
The door was stuck indeed, bent and cracked but unmovable. “How long have you been like this?”
“Melissa?” Herbert’s voice came from inside the carriage.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“I can’t get out.” Herbert’s voice was muffled by something in the cabin.
“I know, darling, I’m trying to help.” A child needed her help. Nothing else mattered in the moment. “John, break the glass! Now!”
John unbuttoned his coat and took it off, wrapping it tightly around his elbow with a sense of determination etched into his features. Melissa braced herself for the blow, her heart pounding as she stood beside him, the carriage lying precariously on its side, like a giant beast felled by an unseen force. She could see the panic in John’s expression; it was that of a man who’d suffered loss and feared it more than anything else.
“Herbert, turn your head away from the door. Cover your face, do you hear me?” she called.
“Yes!” Good, he was listening to her. Finally.
Using all his strength, John shattered the glass panel of the door with a powerful elbow strike. The sound of shattering glass was sharp, piercing the tense silence, and a rush of relief surged through Melissa’s chest as she watched John create an opening. His eyes, usually so calm, now blazed with a fierce panic. They worked together in unison without the need to discuss what to do. They were of one mind and one heart, and Melissa worried for Herbert as if he were her own.
John leaned into the carriage, trying to reach his son, but his broad shoulders strained against the narrow confines.
“Melissa, I can’t fit,” John said, his voice a mix of frustration and desperation. “He’s just beyond my reach.”
Without hesitation, Melissa placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “Let me,” she insisted, her voice steady and resolute. The time for fear had passed; all that mattered was the boy.
John nodded, stepping aside just enough to allow her slender frame to weave through the jagged opening. She took a deep breath, feeling the cool breeze against her skin, and crawled into the dim interior. The air was filled with the scent of overturned earth and the faintest hint of smoke, enveloping her as she moved forward.
Her eyes adjusted quickly, landing on the small figure huddled amidst the chaos. “Melissa!” Herbert cried, and her heart ached with both relief and urgency.
“I’m here. Hold on tight,” Melissa whispered, her hands reaching instinctively for Herbert. She felt his hands grasp hers, no larger than hers, the connection a lifeline amid the turmoil. Carefully, she maneuvered him toward the opening, every motion deliberate and protective.
“Melissa, I thought you wouldn’t come back to me!” John’s gaze was tense and his eyes black with confusion.
“I’m back. And I never truly left.” With these words, she removed her pelisse and arranged it around the sharp edges of the opening of the door. She climbed into the carriage halfway, reaching inside with both hands.
Herbert’s leg was stuck in the dislodged seat. “Take a piece of the glass to cut your foot out; I can’t reach it,” she called to him.
It was growing too dark to make out his expression, but he seemed to hesitate for a moment before she heard the ragged sound of fabric shredding.
Then, a sigh of relief.
And then the truly unexpected happened. Herbert reached for her hand—not merely for purchase but to actually hold her. So much could be expressed with a simple gesture.
As she emerged into the light, feeling Herbert against her, John’s strong arms encircled them both, pulling them into a protective embrace. It was a birth of a family, and Melissa’s breath hitched. Relief flooded through her, a silent prayer of gratitude echoing in her mind.
“We’re safe,” John murmured, his voice a soothing balm as he held them close, the shattered glass glistening like ripples in the water in the sunlight, as if the fear of the moment just before could be washed away if only they were together.
John had never felt more useless in his entire life—nor more proud—or relieved when he witnessed Melissa dragging Herbert out of the carriage. Herbert climbed onto the side of the carriage, and John stood before him, his arms outstretched as he used to do when Herbert was less than two years old and wanted to jump off the bed. As if his son remembered, he reached out to John and cried, “Father!” and jumped into his arms just as before.
Melissa shook out her pelisse, pierced by the broken glass with irreparable damage. But John never felt more healed. “I’ll buy you as many new ones as you’d like. Just come here now; it’s where you belong.” John held his son tightly with his right arm, pressing him against his chest, and wrapped his left arm around Melissa. “We belong together.”
“Wait!?” Herbert suddenly jumped back. “The ring!”
He patted his pockets, then his breeches, and looked in alarm. “I must have dropped it in the carriage.”
“Why did you take it?”
“I wanted to give it to Laura before you could give it to…” He furrowed his brows. “I was wrong.” Then he turned around and tried to rattle the carriage.
A little later, Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s driver and John, with what seemed like a little help from Herbert’s boyish strength, managed to turn the carriage right side up. With little ado, John tore the door out of its hinges, and Herbert climbed in.
“I know it must have fallen out here,” his voice came muffled from the cabin.
“You didn’t come with me, and I didn’t think you’d be back,” John whispered to Melissa. “Thank you for saving my child.”
Melissa wiped a tear away. “You’ll never have to thank me as your wife.”