Twenty
The Times , Wednesday, April 6, 1842
Lady Ashton’s Divorce
The House of Lords assembled on Tuesday afternoon to hear counsel and evidence in support of Lady Ashton’s divorce bill. Mr. Willis said that he had the honor of appearing at their lordships’ bar on the present occasion as counsel to support the petition of Lady Mary Ellen Ashton, and promised his statement should not occupy the attention of their lordships for too great a time. Lady Ashton accused her husband of adultery, abandonment, gross negligence of her morals and comforts, and gross profligacy.
The petitioner was born to a most distinguished family as Lady Mary Ellen de Villiers, daughter to the Earl of Eastmeath, a member of this House. She became acquainted with Lord Ashton in 1830, and the parties were married that same year. Of this marriage, Mr. Willis was happy to say there was no issue.
He would prove that the parties had lived affectionately together until about April 1833, at which evil hour the lady was shocked to discover that her husband had gambled away his entire fortune and country estate. Following the reception of this calamity, Lord Ashton abandoned his wife, who returned to live in her father’s house in Leicester. Lord Ashton did not perform any of the usual duties of a husband or reside with her again. In 1841, Lady Ashton was informed of acts of adultery on the part of Lord Ashton. Mr. Willis should prove all these statements by evidence at their lordships’ bar and should submit that the case would entitle the petitioner to the relief she sought, namely, that their lordships would pass a bill bestowing a divorce a vinculo matriomii.
Witnesses were then called who proved the marriage and that the behavior of Lady Ashton toward her husband had been in all respects affectionate and proper and that she had not invited such cruel abandonment through any fault of her own.
Mr. Thomas Clinton, of Paul’s Bakehouse Court, Doctors’ Commons, proctor, was called to prove the instructions he had received to bring proceedings before the London Consistory Court in February last to obtain a decree a mensa et thoro. A copy of these proceedings was presented at the bar of the House.
Miss Susan O’Driscoll stated that she was a maid in the house of Lord Ashton from about 1828 to 1833. While in his employ, she discovered letters to his lordship detailing indecencies that had taken place with another woman, without his wife’s knowledge.
Lord Esterhazy—But it is scarcely possible that these letters could have stated that a criminal intercourse was going on between the correspondents.
The witness replied that such was her impression.
Lord Esterhazy—Can you provide these letters to the House? Who was the lady who wrote them?
The witness said she had not taken them from her master’s possession but left them where she found them. She no longer recollected the lady’s name.
Mr. Henry Wilkinson, a gentleman from Leicester, was then called. He was a friend of the parties and had seen Lord Ashton in London following his separation from his wife, in about 1838 or 1839. He had on several occasions witnessed Lord Ashton in the company of other women and had seen many improper liberties pass between them. On one occasion he had seen a lady sitting upon Lord Ashton’s knee and kissing him.
The Lord Chancellor—Who were these women?
The witness replied that he could not recollect their names.
Mr. Willis thereupon said that this was all the evidence he proposed to offer, but that the petitioner was in attendance to answer any questions that their lordships might think proper to put to her.
A consultation then took place between their lordships, resulting in Lady Ashton being required to offer certain explanations.
Lady Ashton was unable to say whether she had written to her husband to entreat him to reconcile with her. She was in a state of great distress following the loss of Lord Ashton’s country house and had difficulty recalling the details of her conduct whilst under the influence of this shock. In response to questions from the Lord Chancellor seeking to ascertain why she did not bring proceedings before Consistory Court before this year, the lady replied that she at first wished to spare her family the embarrassment of disclosing the circumstances of her case publicly and that she had only learned of Lord Ashton’s adultery in 1841, upon speaking to Mr. Wilkinson.
The Lord Chancellor moved that the evidence be printed and in the meantime said it would be well if the learned counsel could procure some additional evidence to show, firstly, clear proof of adultery as no witness had provided a satisfactory account on that point, and, secondly, that Lady Ashton had been sufficiently diligent in her conduct as a wife. The second reading of the bill was then adjourned to May 2nd.
***
The Times , Tuesday, April 19, 1842
Lady Ashton’s Divorce
Mr. Willis stated that their lordships would bear in mind that this matter had been adjourned on the former occasion for the purpose of enabling the petitioner to produce further evidence. He now proposed to call Mr. John Wood, an apprentice solicitor who shared lodgings with Lord Ashton in London. He has known Lord Ashton for two years and was well acquainted with him.
Mr. Wood stated that on or about February 9 of this year, he had returned to his lodgings at about four in the afternoon to find that Lord Ashton had brought a woman to his rooms. His lordship appeared surprised to see him when he came out and was in a state of undress, with his shirt half-buttoned and without any coat or cravat on.
Lord Esterhazy—Was the woman in a likewise state?
The witness replied that he had not seen her undressed, but had heard her voice inside his lordship’s rooms with the door shut. They both were whispering as if they did not wish to be discovered, and he considered their behavior quite improper.
Lord Esterhazy—Could it have been a maid inside?
The witness said he knew the maid’s voice well, as well as the voice of the landlady, and that he was quite sure it was neither of them. There were no other women who would have any cause to be in the house. Lord Ashton remained in his bedroom with this woman for another three or four hours, and they had not yet emerged when Mr. Wood was called downstairs to attend some business. He then looked through the window and observed the lady outside, departing the house. He believed her to be Miss Cordelia Danby, whom he had seen once before in attendance at the theater. Miss Danby had also been writing letters to Lord Ashton for some time before this event.
This concluded the petitioner’s evidence.
The Lord Chancellor, in moving the bill be read a second time, adverted to the want of sufficient diligence on the part of the petitioner. However, the fact of Lord Ashton’s gross profligacy and neglect, abandonment of his wife, and of the subsequent adultery has been clearly established and their lordships held the petitioner entitled to relief. The bill was accordingly read a second time and ordered to be committed.
***
“I simply don’t understand what would possess you to do such a thing,” Mrs. Danby said. It occurred to Della that she’d uttered similar words on the divan in Jane’s sitting room about Hannah Williams not too long ago. Of course, she’d been in tears, while her mother was not. “What will my friends say when they see this? How could you embarrass us this way?”
They were in Della’s bedroom, where she’d been eating breakfast before her mother interrupted her, her hair still tied up in paper for curling and a copy of the Times in her hand.
“I’m sorry,” Della replied numbly. “I never meant to…”
She wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. Cause trouble? She had meant to do that, she just hadn’t meant to be caught. Nor to make anyone cross with her. She’d imagined that the worst thing that might happen if she were seen leaving Ashton’s lodgings was a stern talking-to, or the creation of a troublesome rumor, not this . Not her name printed in the papers, staining the fingertips of every person she’d ever known.
Perhaps she deserved it. Hadn’t Ashton told her a hundred times how reckless she’d been?
But why should this Mr. Wood wish to destroy my life? That was the part she couldn’t wrap her head around. It wasn’t as though Della had ever done anything to hurt him; she didn’t even know the man! Why mention her name, when he could just as easily have kept it to himself?
“We’ll have to send you away, I suppose.” Her mother paced the floor, oblivious to Della’s musings. She hadn’t asked for them. “Would you prefer France or Belgium? We’ll have to hire a companion, unless your aunt Caroline would be willing to take you.”
“What are you talking about?” Annabelle’s face popped round the doorframe. “Why is Della going away?”
“There’s a story about me in the papers.” Della motioned to the copy that still lay on the foot of her bed. She felt too tired to explain. Once she’d given her sister a moment to read it and watched her expression wilt in horror, she put on a brave face. “If I pick France, I might become friends with Miss Greenwood in exile. At least I would know someone.”
“But that’s nonsense!” Annabelle looked from Della to their mother. “We’re not going to abandon Della just because of some…some busybody with nothing better to do than print gossip about people with more interesting lives than he has. You can’t!”
“Annabelle, this doesn’t concern you.” Mrs. Danby spoke through tight lips. “If your sister didn’t want this to happen, then she should’ve thought of that before she snuck off to a strange man’s house in the middle of the night.”
“It wasn’t the middle of the night,” Della couldn’t stop herself from pointing out. “I was there all day and evening; it’s only that no one noticed I was gone except for Annabelle.”
And Ashton. He’d worried over how long she’d been away, while she’d laughed it off. How different everything looked now.
“What are you saying?” Mrs. Danby drew up in offense. She certainly hadn’t been happy at the outset of this conversation, but there hadn’t been any real anger in her voice either. Until now. “That this is somehow my fault? For heaven’s sake, Della, you’re six-and-twenty. I thought you had enough sense to keep yourself out of trouble.”
“You’re right,” Della conceded. “I’m sorry I’ve embarrassed you. But I do wish you’d asked about me once in a while.”
Her mother’s face went pink and splotchy. “Of course I ask about you! I’m right here anytime you want to talk to me. Why do you make it sound as though I’ve done something wrong?”
How can I answer that? There was no point in upsetting her mother any further, especially when she’d already caused so much grief. But it hurt all the same, to think of all the times she’d been left to handle things on her own even when she might still have needed a little help. And when she’d gotten it wrong, she was to be sent away.
For you to manage your own lives. Well, she hadn’t managed her own life very well, now had she? And soon she would be utterly alone.
A knocking and the sound of footfalls downstairs told Della that someone was on their doorstep. A moment later, their butler stood respectfully in the hall outside her room and announced that Miss Chatterjee and Mrs. Williams were downstairs asking for Della.
“Why should they call at this hour?” Mrs. Danby asked, indignant. “It’s far too early. Tell them we’re still having breakfast.”
“No,” Della cut in. “Please let me see them, Mama. I only need a minute to get dressed.”
Mrs. Danby shook her head and sighed, looking exasperated. “I suppose it can’t make things any worse. We’ll finish talking about this after my hair is curled.”
Once their mother had gone, Della rang for her maid and got dressed as quickly as she could manage. Her sister stayed by her side even once she’d gone downstairs to meet her guests. Della didn’t have the heart to send her away. Annabelle seemed more upset about her fate than she did.
As it turned out, Reva and Jane were equally distraught. They both looked as if they’d been crying. Don’t worry , Della wanted to say. I’m fine. See?
But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. They might think her delusional.
“We saw what they’ve written about you.” Jane swept her into a tight hug. “You mustn’t panic. We’ll find a way to sort this out.”
“I’m not panicking,” Della assured her, the words muffled by Jane’s shoulder.
Her friend released her and gave her a once-over. “No, I suppose you aren’t. How are you so calm?”
“I’m not sure,” Della admitted. “I suppose it doesn’t feel quite real yet.” The fact that she’d only had ten minutes to contemplate her fate since her mother stormed in with the Times this morning probably had something to do with it. No doubt she would fall apart later.
“You should sue the papers for defamation,” Reva suggested. “Make them print a retraction.”
“Oh, there’s an idea,” said Annabelle excitedly. “That’s just the thing. Mount a counterattack.”
“Do we know any barristers?”
“Maybe Mr. Bhattacharya could help…”
Watching them, Della was overcome by a wistful regret. Look at them all. Their plan was doomed, of course—she’d done everything Mr. Wood had claimed, and no amount of strategizing could erase that—but she loved them for trying. Had Della believed that she was alone a moment ago? How maudlin she’d been. She wasn’t alone. Everyone she loved most was right here with her.
All except one.
“Della?” Jane was watching her hesitantly. “I wish you would say something. You’re making me nervous.”
“Don’t be. I’m happy you both came.” Della smiled gently. In the days ahead, there wouldn’t be many who stood by her side. She drew a long breath. “It’s kind of you to want to help, but I’m not going to sue the papers.”
“But—”
“It’s all true,” she said firmly. This produced an uncomfortable silence, which Della moved to fill before anyone could come up with another misguided idea for her salvation. “I’d like for us to talk about the club for a moment, if you please. This isn’t how I would have chosen to leave, but you must see that I won’t help business by staying on. Can you and Cecily manage without me? Do you need help finding a replacement?”
Jane bit her lip. Though she couldn’t bring herself to agree with Della’s frank assessment, she must not have another solution at ready.
“I could help?” Annabelle’s voice crept up at the end, more of a question than an offer.
She’d made that proposal months ago on the Waterloo Bridge and Della had scoffed, but a great deal had changed since then. She wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss a helping hand now.
“That’s perfect,” Della assured her. “I don’t want Jane to have to worry about buying out my share right now, and you could exercise my powers as co-owner in my place, at least for the time being. If that’s all right with you, Jane?”
“I—” Jane swallowed, looking uncharacteristically lost. “Of course I’m grateful to you.” She nodded toward Annabelle before turning back to Della. “But what do you plan to do ?”
It wasn’t easy to say the words that would hurt them. Della took a moment to enjoy the sight first. Her sister and her two dearest friends, all together with her.
She was going to miss them.
“Mama wants to send me to the continent for a little while—”
“Which is completely unfair,” Anabelle interrupted.
“And I’ve decided to agree.”
“What?” Her sister whirled on her. “You can’t mean it!”
“It will give things time to blow over. For people to forget.” She took Annabelle by the shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “I know you shall be utterly lost without me, but you must be strong. At least Bishop’s will keep you busy.”
Annabelle rolled her eyes. A small victory.
“But you will come back?” Jane asked, biting her lip.
“Eventually.” How long would it take before her name wasn’t a blight? Before she might hope to be accepted in polite company again? A year or two, at the least. But no, she wouldn’t dwell on the things she had no power to change. Della clapped her hands briskly. “There’s no need for such long faces! I’m not going to Siberia. I expect you’ll change your tunes when I send you copies of all the latest fashion plates from Paris. Now that I’m publicly ruined, I’ve decided to spend my dowry on clothes.”
No one laughed at her joke, which was really quite rude of them. She deserved some credit for her efforts to keep up good cheer.
“I know you’ll miss me,” Della conceded. “But you can always visit if the need arises. For right now, I need you to try not to be too upset. I’m trying to make the best of a bad situation, and it would help me enormously to know that all of you will be all right.”
Reva was the first to respond. She held Della’s gaze as she offered a smile. Slightly strained, perhaps, but the affection in it was real. “You will write to us often, I trust. I might take you up on the invitation to visit if I can arrange for a honeymoon in France.”
“Good.” Della nodded approvingly.
Annabelle was next. “It’s just like you to run off to the other side of the channel the minute you put me in charge of your share of the club. Don’t be cross with me if I do everything differently than you would have.”
“I’ll let Jane be cross with you for both of us. But I’m not leaving tomorrow, you know. I’ll have time to give you advice before I go.”
“Who’s to say I need your advice?” Annabelle retorted, prompting Della to elbow her in the ribs.
Only Jane stood silent. Her lower lip quivered dangerously. “I don’t much like the thought of you going off all on your own.”
“I won’t be alone,” Della assured her. “I’ve decided that Lord Ashton should accompany me, if he’ll agree to it.”
Three pairs of eyes widened. Reva gave a little gasp.
“After all this?” Jane asked.
“Everyone already thinks I’m his mistress,” Della pointed out. “The damage is done. I may as well enjoy some benefit from it.”
“But—”
“I love him,” Della said firmly. “And I’ve spent every day since I met him trying to fight any attachment and keep my feelings a secret and worrying about what other people might suspect. Now that everything is out in the open, it would be so lovely to just…stop. To enjoy each other’s company in a place where no one knows us and we don’t have to worry about any of that.”
Now Della understood why she wasn’t in more of a panic over the news this morning. Despite the fact that her good name was ruined, she felt free . There would be no more lies. No more wondering what might have been if only things were different. If Ashton truly wanted to be with her, there would be nothing to hold him back. And if he didn’t…well, it would break her heart, but at least she would know that she’d tried.
What must he be feeling now? He wouldn’t see things the same way; that much was certain. He’d always been so worried that this would happen—that she would be hurt by his past. For him, it must be a nightmare come to life.
She had to go to him. To show him that she was safe and whole and didn’t blame him for what had happened. He must be in so much pain.
“I need to see him,” Della explained. “You must excuse me. Thank you again for coming. And don’t worry, I’ll come to see you again before I leave London.”
She was halfway to the door when Jane’s voice stopped her. “Della.”
She turned around, expecting that her friend might try to reason with her. After all, that was what they did. Della came up with reckless ideas, and Jane brought her back down to earth. And this was a reckless idea if ever there was one. But Jane merely smiled. Her eyes were soft with unshed tears as she said, “Good luck.”
***
“ Wood! Are you in there?” Lyman pounded on the door to the little snake’s room, but there was no answer. “You can’t hide forever.”
He was going to murder the bastard once he got his hands on him. What the hell was he playing at, mentioning Della’s name? Lyman hadn’t attended the proceedings before the House, but he read the summaries in the papers every day. Nothing could have prepared him for the words that had greeted him this morning.
“Wood!” he called again, trying the knob this time. It was unlocked. Lyman pushed it open to reveal an empty room. It wasn’t only its occupant that was missing, but all of his things. The bookcase stood empty; the wardrobe gaped open, the hangers inside bare and tinkling against each other in the gust of air he’d stirred up when he flung open the door.
What the hell?
The coward must have made his escape in the night, before Lyman could learn what he’d done. Where had he gone? There must be some clue.
He stalked inside and began rifling through the desk drawers, looking for anything that Wood had left behind.
“He isn’t here.” Lyman jumped at the sound of Clarkson’s baritone. He stood in the doorframe, observing the scene with an expression of mild concern. “He informed Mr. Hirsch yesterday that he was terminating his apprenticeship. Said he’d found a new benefactor and an opportunity more in keeping with his skill.” Clarkson placed a dry emphasis on this last word, his thoughts on the subject clear.
“Michael.” That made two people who needed to answer for this. “Where did he say he was going?”
“He didn’t. He just paid up his last month’s rent and left.”
Lyman muttered an oath. It made perfect sense. Ellen and Michael had needed more evidence to get their bill through the House, and Wood had no doubt enjoyed the banknotes they’d lined his pockets with, plus whatever position they’d secured him with someone higher up the social ladder than Mr. Hirsch.
If he tore up every town house in Mayfair, he would find his brother-in-law soon enough, but Wood could be anywhere by now. Still, Michael must have some idea where his newest lackey had gone.
“I saw the story in the papers,” Clarkson continued. “I’m sorry.”
“I need to find him,” Lyman ground out, shoving the desk drawer closed with a rough motion. There was nothing useful here. He was wasting precious time.
“And do what?” Clarkson asked carefully. “Rip his skin from his bones?”
“It would be a start.”
The man had trampled Della’s good name in the mud, had dragged her into this for no better reason than to earn a few pounds and advance his own station, if Lyman’s suspicions were correct. He’d ruined her. He had to answer for it.
Lyman stalked past Clarkson and down the hall to his own rooms, where he fetched his gloves and coat.
“Might we take a moment to talk this over before you rush off?” his friend called after his receding back.
“There’s nothing to talk about. He can’t get away with this.”
“Wood is a worthless little shit,” Clarkson conceded. “But what do you plan to do, murder him? Then you’ll be thrown in jail, which isn’t likely to improve anything.”
Lyman crammed his hat atop his head, pausing a moment to think this over.
A gentleman doesn’t resort to his fists, he could hear his father say. He solves his problems with civility. He’d tried to obey this advice all his life, but he’d never been tested like this before. His blood was pounding in his ears. The familiar sight of his lodgings receded in a red haze. The only thing he understood was that he had to fix this before it was too late.
“I’ll make him recant his testimony,” Lyman said, seizing hold of the idea with a grim sense of triumph. That was it. There was no way to make the public unsee the story, but he could still discredit its source. Make it clear that James Wood was a bitter, petty little man willing to do anything to advance his station.
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’m confident that I can find the means to persuade him.” Thus far, Lyman hadn’t pushed back. He’d let them say whatever they wanted, do whatever they wanted, all while telling himself that it was the only form of atonement he could offer. But this crossed a line.
If he threatened to fight the divorce, to thwart their efforts before Parliament, he might persuade Michael to withdraw whatever patronage he’d offered Wood in exchange for his testimony. Once the man found himself without protection, he wouldn’t be so brave. Exert a little pressure and he would bend like the coward he was.
“But the hearings are already over,” Clarkson pointed out. “It’s too late for him to recant.”
“Before the House of Lords, maybe. But the bill still has to pass through the Lower House and get royal assent before it’s final. It’s not too late to change things.”
It couldn’t be too late. He couldn’t let himself think about what it would mean if this was final. If Della’s name was forever linked with his in a sordid scandal.
What would become of her then?
Lyman gulped in a large breath. There didn’t seem to be enough air in the room.
“Ashton…” The pity in Clarkson’s voice was like a vise squeezing his skull. “You know as well as I do the House of Commons isn’t going to oppose the bill now that it’s passed the House of Lords. The matter is done.”
“It’s not done.” Lyman caught himself shouting at Clarkson. “I have to do something. Otherwise—”
He couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought. Otherwise what? He would have ruined Della. Not Wood, him . If he hadn’t invited her back to his lodgings that day, if he hadn’t been so swept up in his own selfish desire that he’d abandoned all the rules that held him in check, she would never have been exposed.
Lyman sat down with a heavy thud and buried his face in his hands, the little settee in his room giving a creak of protest that echoed his misery. There had to be something else he could do. If he could only think straight, he would see it. This couldn’t be how things ended.
A knock at the door made him jump to his feet, but Clarkson pressed a firm hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get it. Wood’s not likely to come back here. Take a minute to cool your head.”
Impossible. Lyman’s thoughts wouldn’t stop spinning. He heard murmured voices at the door, but he couldn’t understand any of the words, either because they were too far from him or because he was too far from his senses. All he could think about was that there must be some way to make all of this a dream, to turn back time and do things differently. When Clarkson’s footsteps came back toward him, alone, he couldn’t summon the energy to look up.
“Ashton.” The gentle voice that called his name wasn’t Clarkson, but Della. Lyman whipped his head up. He must be hallucinating. Why would she come now?
She should hate him, after what had happened. He tried to say as much, but his tongue stubbornly refused to obey.
“I—” That was as far as he could get. Nothing more would follow.
“I know.” Della crossed the room and took him into her arms. She felt reassuringly steady, though she only came up to his shoulder. “It’s all right. I know.”
“I’m so sorry. I never meant for—”
“I know,” she repeated. “It isn’t your fault. Let’s not do any of the part where you blame yourself or tell me I need to go or any of that, all right? We’re past it now. Let’s just talk a while.”
“How can you say it isn’t my fault?”
“Because it isn’t .” Della released him only long enough to set him at arm’s length and meet his eye, her gaze firm. “I made my own decisions, and I’m responsible for them. Besides which, you weren’t the one who went spreading my name around. Mr. Wood bears the blame for that part.”
“He’s run off to hide somewhere, but I’ll find him,” Lyman promised. It was important that she know he wouldn’t let this pass.
But Della brushed off his vow even more easily than she had his guilt. “There’s no need for that. What’s done is done. I wouldn’t want you to get yourself in any trouble on my account.”
How could she be so nonchalant? Hadn’t she read what the papers had written about her? “I’m surprised you’re so calm,” he said warily.
“Why, because you expected me to fall apart?” Della cocked her head to one side, her tone somewhere between sadness and teasing. “I was meant to come around to your way of thinking and conclude that I should have lived my life following the rules and be overcome with regret. Is that it?”
“But don’t you regret it? You must. This will ruin your life, Della.”
“It won’t ruin anything unless I let it,” she shot back fiercely. “What can they do to me, decide I’m not welcome at their parties anymore? Fine. I’ll be cut. My real friends will stand by me. I don’t much care if my circle becomes smaller, so long as the people who matter are still there.”
This was so unexpected that Lyman could scarcely wrap his head around it. “But your friends will be cut too, if they continue to associate with you—”
“Hush,” she interrupted. “I’m not ignorant of the dangers. That’s why I’ve decided to go away for a little while to let the talk die down. I can come back in a year or two, once the ton has turned its attention to other things. I’ve always wanted to see the continent, so it won’t be a true hardship for me.”
She said it so matter-of-factly, she might have been discussing plans for a holiday rather than an exile.
Della slipped her hand into Lyman’s palm as she added shyly, “I was hoping you might come with me.”
“Pardon?” He must have misheard her. They’d been publicly accused of adultery. If they ran away together now, they would be acknowledging the truth of the story for the whole world to see.
But Della continued, “I’d much rather travel with a companion than travel alone, and I don’t want to have to hire some strange woman for it. You’d be doing me a favor.” She flashed her mischievous smile, bringing an ache to Lyman’s heart. How long had it been since he’d seen it? He hadn’t expected it to survive this disaster. “If you insist on blaming yourself for what’s happened even though I’ve told you there’s no need, you could even consider this your atonement.”
“But—” Lyman let his thought die unfinished. None of this was supposed to happen. Della was supposed to hate him. She was supposed to cut ties with him forever, not shrug her shoulders and invite him on a holiday. That was what happened when you did something this terrible.
Could he really accept? It must be wrong, to benefit from such a mistake.
“I was thinking of Paris,” she babbled on happily, growing animated at her plan. It was just like the early days of their acquaintance, watching her follow the spark of a new idea. The sight was a familiar comfort. “But we could travel around if you’d like to see other places. Think how nice it would be, not to have anyone know us. There wouldn’t be any gossip to worry about. We could even use other names, if you like.”
The portrait she painted was seductive. Attending the theater or strolling down a busy street with Della on his arm, never worrying who might see them or what they might think.
“What about your club?”
“I’ve already stepped back in the last few months. Annabelle will exercise my rights as co-owner while I’m away.”
“And after that?” Lyman couldn’t help but ask. He didn’t want to dictate what Della did with her time, but he needed to know what he was risking if they took up with each other again. As much as he’d missed her company, there were some things he couldn’t do.
She seemed to understand his fear, for she was solemn as she answered. “I understand why it’s a problem for you, but you don’t need to worry. I don’t plan to come back to Bishop’s. Even aside from this”—Della made a vague gesture with her palm that encompassed everything from the story in the paper to their too-brief affaire—“my feelings about what we do have changed. I’d like to give it some time to see how Annabelle and Cecily fare without me, but I intend to transfer my ownership once it can be done without causing Jane too much hardship.”
“You won’t regret it later?” He didn’t want to entwine their futures, only to discover Della wanted to return to her old endeavors in a year or two.
“No.” She spoke with conviction. “What I loved was building something with Jane. Helping her to make a place in the world. But Bishop’s isn’t for me, not really. It’s time to move on.”
It was as if a weight had been lifted from Lyman’s chest. He’d grown so used to thinking of Della as impossible and beyond his reach, it was hard to imagine that might not be so. That they might really have a chance for a future together. His wife’s bill wouldn’t receive royal assent for some time yet, but it would come. And most of Europe had a more tolerant attitude toward divorce than England. Once he was free, he might marry her, if they wished it. The possibility was dizzying. He hadn’t thought he would ever be in this position again. Truth be told, he was more than a little frightened by it.
But she isn’t asking me for that. Della was a different woman than Ellen, and he was a different man than he’d once been. Perhaps they would find the time to discover whether they might fit together, once they had the freedom to explore.
“I can’t afford to travel in luxury anymore,” he warned her, well aware that he’d begun to think about her invitation in terms of when and how instead of if .
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Della laughed. “I have my own money. I’d be paying for my accommodations anyway, and if you refuse me, then I’ll have to pay for a companion, as I said, so it really wouldn’t be any imposition to put you up.”
“Am I to be your kept man?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“Well…” A faint blush of pink dusted her cheeks. “It wouldn’t need to be that way. I was thinking, what if we wrote a guidebook to Paris, or wherever else we might choose to go? We made an excellent team. And then you’d still have an income. I finished my book, by the way. I meant to give you a copy to look over before I turn it in to Mr. Armstrong, but with all the excitement this morning, I forgot it at home. You don’t suppose he’ll want to renege on our agreement now that my name’s been tarnished, do you? It was supposed to be anonymously published anyway.” Della bit her lip.
“I doubt it,” he reassured her. “What Armstrong cares most about is whether the book will turn a profit. We’ll go see him together to talk it over.”
“Does this mean I’ve convinced you?” A bright smile broke through Della’s worry. “Are you really coming with me?”
The emotion that surged in his chest was sharp and poignant. Something very near to heartbreak—that familiar sense that he might shatter her smile if he got too close. But it was tempered by something else now: an understanding that Della was a good deal stronger than he’d given her credit for. After all, hadn’t the worst thing he’d imagined already happened? And they were still here.
He wasn’t sure the fear would ever vanish completely, but for the first time, it seemed possible that it might not dictate his every choice. Not this choice, at least.
“I suppose.” Lyman cleared his throat, for it was suddenly tight. “I can’t very well let you roam through France on your own, can I? Who would keep you out of trouble?”
Della gave a little shriek, throwing her arms around Lyman’s neck. “You’re going to love it! You’ll see. We’ll have so much fun together. I can’t wait.”
When she pressed his lips to his, he tasted hope.