Chapter 34 #2
“Neither here nor there…” Maggie shook her head.
“But…” She felt as if she were stumbling blindly forward, her hands thrust out in front of her, to brace for the fall.
“What are you saying? That you never announced formally, anywhere or to anyone, that you were investing in my business? And people have made assumptions… They must think I’m your mistress!
” she concluded on a gasp. “And that you’re paying all my bills because of our…
our affair.” No wonder no one had approached her at the ball.
She’d been there as a paramour, not a businesswoman in her own right, respectably accompanied by her investor, the way she’d let herself believe, the way she’d thought Theo had presented it to the world.
Maggie was amazed that Bertha Palmer had been willing to have the design of a fallen woman in her beloved Women’s Building, but then the affairs of the wealthy elite were well known.
Marshall Field himself had been carrying on with Delia Caton, a married woman and socialite, for decades.
It was an open secret, one no one acknowledged but silently accepted.
They’d even traveled to Europe together, without their spouses.
Perhaps Bertha Palmer wouldn’t bat an eyelid at accepting a design by the mistress of an acquaintance, but she wouldn’t acknowledge her in society, either.
Like Theo had said about his own father’s business affairs, the wealthy were all hypocrites.
“No one thinks anything,” Theo said repressively. “It isn’t discussed.”
“But it must be what they think—”
“Who cares what they think?” he demanded.
“Maggie, you’re successful in your own right.
Isn’t that all that matters? A hat of your design is going to be featured in the greatest Exposition on earth!
You will be famous forever, and you are wringing your hands over what a few old biddies think?
” He reached for her hands, drawing her to him.
“And you know what I feel for you,” he added in a murmur that made Maggie’s stomach roil with disgust—at herself.
How had she let herself believe his lies for so long?
“Even though you are to be married?” she asked bitterly, pulling her hands away.
She’d soothed her own conscience for far too long when it came to this man—and why?
Just because she was lonely? Because she’d sensed her success had depended upon it, and that had been more important than her own reputation, her own dignity?
Both, most likely, and she was utterly ashamed that she’d let herself be so led.
So deceived. What had happened to her principles, her pride?
“My marriage is a matter of expediency,” Theo told her. “Daphne is well-connected back in New York. Marrying her will help restore my family’s reputation.” He spoke matter-of-factly, without any apology or regret.
“How fortunate for you,” she replied acidly, and he sighed, turning away from her to look out the window.
“Why stand on such outrage?” he asked wearily. “You said you knew we would never marry—”
“That doesn’t mean I enjoy being deceived, or trifled with, or talked about,” Maggie snapped.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
She wasn’t even angry with Theo, she realized, but only with herself.
“I’m not wringing my hands over what a few biddies think,” she told him carefully.
“But what I think, of myself. I never thought I’d marry you, Theo, because I don’t want to marry.
I have a career, and I pride myself upon it.
And while I haven’t been waiting for a proposal from you, I’ve let myself be led down paths I never intended to go.
” She shook her head slowly. “It was why I was so reluctant to be associated with you from the beginning. Why I didn’t want you to become my investor.
I was worried this would happen, and now it has, even more than I ever feared, and I let myself be deceived into thinking it hadn’t.
Everyone in that room thought we were… that I was—” She stopped, unable to bear saying it. “You know what they thought.”
He shrugged. “And if they did?”
“It felt different,” she said slowly, still wanting him to understand, “when I thought everyone knew you were investing in my business in a way that was above board and proper. If they gossiped about the nature of our relationship, that wasn’t my fault, and I could still hold my head high.
But if they just thought you were paying my bills because I was your—”
“They’re one and the same, Maggie—” he cut her off impatiently.
“They’re not, and you know it,” she returned fiercely.
“You never even tried to make our—our relationship seem respectable, did you? Half the women who came into my shop probably did so out of my—my notoriety, not my designs.” She shook her head, sick with shame.
“I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.
I didn’t let myself.” She turned to face him, resolute, although inside she still quaked.
“Our association ends here and now,” she told him flatly.
“Whatever you’ve invested, I’ll return the amount.
” She hoped she had the money to do so; she realized, uncomfortably, that she had no idea how much money she owed him, or even how much money she had earned.
Theo had handled it all. “From now on,” she insisted, “I will be truly independent, and we will have no reason to see or speak to one another.”
“Oh, how very noble of you,” Theo replied, and now he was the one with acid in his voice. “How very dramatic, as well. I suppose it makes you feel better, to stand on such lofty principles?”
“It’s what is right,” Maggie replied with as much as dignity as she could muster. “Surely you can see that, Theo?”
“Very well,” he replied after a moment. “I will come tomorrow, with a full accounting of what you owe.” Something in his tone made Maggie tense. He almost sounded as if he would enjoy presenting her with the bill, and even now she was surprised he would be so petty.
She turned back to the window, relieved to see they were approaching Washington Street, and her home. Whatever she owed Theo, she vowed, she would pay it. She would finally be free from him, from anyone… and she would have her dignity restored. Whatever the cost.
As the carriage came to a stop, Theo leaned over and opened the hansom’s door himself, then lounged back in his seat, while Maggie was forced to scramble out without aid, pulling her heavy skirts behind her and trying not to mind that once he would have leaped out, playing the gentleman.
“Till tomorrow,” he said with a hint of mockery in his voice.
Not deigning to reply, with her head held high, Maggie walked away from the carriage—and the security she no longer had.
Alone, inside the darkened shop, she pressed one hand to her mouth as she closed her eyes against the hot press of tears. They were tears of sorrow, of grief, of loneliness, and most of all, of shame.
As they coursed down her cheeks, she thought she’d never felt more alone in the world.