Chapter 11 A SECOND ENCOUNTER
Chapter 11
A S ECOND E NCOUNTER
Winchester, England
October 28, 1880
Miles watched her through the newly polished window of the inn. She held a content look on her face. He said her name, his heart warming as the word leaped off his tongue. “Lillian.”
As beautiful as a lily picked in a field, he thought, but she was far from a fragile flower. She carried herself with a seasoned power and possessed a commanding presence at the bar. Even the most intoxicated treated her with respect.
“Lillian,” he whispered again. Was it possible to love a woman whom he barely knew? It had been two weeks since he’d first encountered her, and they were the longest of his life. He’d have returned sooner, but the housemaster had taken ill and could be heard wandering the downstairs of the boardinghouse late at night.
Miles found it nearly impossible to focus on his studies. His professors’ words would fade away as Lillian’s velvety voice tickled the ears of his imagination. Even in the depths of his algebra book, he sketched her face. He could see her smile as if it had been painted on the ceiling above him while he slept. Her face had been etched into his soul.
After sliding a beer down to a patron, Lillian happened to lift her gaze, and she caught sight of him. Miles stood proudly and tipped his hat. She raised a finger to tell him to wait a moment. He resisted a smile, as the cat-and-mouse game was certainly afoot.
She came out from the bar a few minutes later, snapped the door shut, and tugged a shawl over her body. It was chilly out, the winter winds coming early this year. Being a Thursday around eleven, High Street was crowded with diners having finished their meals and beggars hoping to take advantage of their liquored-up generosity.
Miles stepped toward her, resisting an urge to reach out and touch her—a gesture most assuredly inappropriate even with her class. Instead, he dipped his head and said quite formally, “Good evening.” He surprised himself at his own amplified confidence, but then again, that was one of the reasons he was attracted to her. She brought the best out of him.
Lillian was confident herself and held his gaze as she said, “So you’re back for more business, I see. And what business was it that brings you to Winchester?”
He felt his dimples cave inward. She could see right through him and had properly called him out. “I suppose there’s no reason to continue a facade. You were correct the first time.” He held out both hands. “I am indeed a Wykehamist.”
She smiled at him with satisfaction. “I knew it.”
“Which is why I haven’t returned sooner. It’s risky business sneaking away.”
“I imagine so,” she said. “But not risky enough to keep you from being here tonight.”
“I suppose nothing would have kept me from at least trying to see you.”
She blushed at his forwardness. “Ah.”
If she only knew the risk, he thought, trying not to imagine the consequences. “I’d like to ask ...” He stumbled over his words in this slightly awkward space they created. He finally let out, “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me on a walk?”
Lillian glanced back at the bar. “I suppose so. I have about ten minutes before my father wonders of my whereabouts.”
Miles pivoted in the opposite direction. “Then let’s not waste a second of it.”
They strolled side by side down High Street, very close to one another. He didn’t want to be recognized—as his father would be livid—so he suggested they take an alley that would lead them away from the city center. With his family so well known, he never knew whom he might encounter.
“So how is it that you were able to sneak out?”
Miles smiled. “I leave a window open and wait for everyone to fall asleep.”
“And what would happen if you were caught?”
He sighed. “I don’t rightly want to think about it. A good caning, that’s for sure. Detention. Suspension.”
She had worn a subtle smile since they’d left, but it stretched wider. “You risk all that just to see me?”
“I’d risk far more than that to see you.”
“An assured statement from a man who doesn’t even know me.”
He stopped and she stopped with him. The clouds had broken enough to show a patch of stars above her head. “Then tell me about you,” he urged.
She darted her eyes from his eyes to his nose, then lips, as if she were deciding which of the desserts behind the glass she might try. “You’re a bold man, aren’t you, Miles?”
“Not always, but I can’t waste my ten minutes.”
Lillian liked the way he spoke to her; he could tell. Most likely because he was absolutely sincere, and she knew it. She effortlessly stoked the boldness in him, causing him to feel less trapped in the prison his father had constructed around him.
They started walking again, passing a stretch of food shops, a fruiterer and butcher, that were closed for the night. “As I might have mentioned, my family owns the inn. That’s my father in there with the beard, if you saw him. I’ve worked there since I was little. And by no means am I worthy of a Wykehamist.”
Miles stopped again and touched her arm. It was the first time he’d made physical contact with her. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Of course you do. Tell me ... about your life. Who is your family? What privilege do you have to attend the college?”
“You’re right; my father is a gentleman and a member of the House of Lords. But none of that matters to me.” He felt the hardness that took over his expression.
“But to him?”
“That doesn’t matter either.”
A boisterous laugh came from one of the carriages passing by. They both turned and realized it had nothing to do with them.
“What do you want from me, Miles? What is your last name, by the way?”
He said almost shamefully, “Pemberton.”
“You’re a Pemberton?” She laughed. “And you’re attempting to court me?”
He liked the sound of him attempting to court her. That was indeed what he was doing, all else be damned. “Why not?”
She looked up at the night sky, watching the fast-moving clouds glide by. “It’s like making a wish on a star that was never there.”
He stepped toward her. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“I know my place in the world, Miles. And I could only imagine the trouble you’d bring into it.” She suddenly looked deflated, as if she’d decided this wasn’t a bright idea after all.
Miles was ready to put up a fight. Though his desire to act on the stage had brought to the surface his need to break free, it was this woman here before him who gave him the courage to truly consider disrupting the order of his life. “Yes, that’s possible. But how about let’s not talk about the potential barriers to our becoming something that we’re not yet. I want to be here with you now.”
She didn’t reply, so he spoke his mind. “I should have told you that I’m a salesman in town from London.”
She diverted her eyes down the street, where gaslight illuminated another pub. “I’m not sure a lie is the best way to build on anything, even if we’re meant for doom.”
Miles stepped even closer. “Meant for doom? Aren’t you the cynic.”
She twisted his way and shuffled her feet on the dusty road. “I’m a realist.”
Whatever she was, he wanted more of it. How could he possibly explain to her the life he’d been living, the one draped in facades and expectations? Had he barely known anything real at all until this moment? He’d been living like a sheep at the mercy of his father, the shepherd, and now she’d given Miles a taste of what it was like to be shot up into the heavens.
“What if I told you I don’t believe in the systems that I’ve grown up captive in? What if I told you I didn’t care about my family name or my path to Oxford or even the gown and tie of the college that I attend? What if I told you that love matters more to me than the duties of my family?”
“I’d tell you that you’re a fool.” But he could see that her words did not reflect how she felt inside. She didn’t really believe that he was a fool. In fact, he might take it one step further and call her a romantic, just like him. Desire certainly glittered in her eyes, despite her attempting to hide it.
“I’m a fool of your making,” Miles said. “It’s as if I’ve stepped through a door, and now it’s locked, so there’s no turning back.”
She chuckled to herself, clearly enjoying the flattery. And then taking on a playful manner, she said, “Sadly, your ten minutes is up.”
“What a tragedy that is.”
Their eyes locked, and it was Miles who eventually turned away. He pinched his chin and looked back down the street. “May I walk you back?”
“I’d like that.”
Miles shortened his stride, attempting to prolong their time together. She knew well what he was doing and seemed amused by it. He asked about her family, and she told him of her mother and father and then her brother, Arthur, and his pregnant wife—all of them very close and working well together at the inn. Miles could not imagine what that would be like.
“What is it you want to do, Miles Pemberton? If you don’t want to follow your father’s design?”
Miles appreciated the question. “You mean if I didn’t attend Oxford?”
“If you did what you wanted to do,” Lillian reiterated. Her soft skin glowed in the moonlight, toying with him and beckoning him.
“I’d find someone to love,” he said, “and I’d give her all of me.”
Of course, his choice would be to chase his stage dreams, but he found such pleasure in expressing these other feelings that stirred inside him, feelings that he’d not ever known before making her acquaintance. And she didn’t seem to shy away when he pressed, which made it even more enjoyable.
Her incandescent eyes widened, and the pitch of her voice lifted in good fun. “Oh, you’d let a woman determine your future?” She knew exactly what he was doing, adding an extra scoop of sugar to his words.
Her going along with it caused him to smile. “Not just any woman.”
“Well, surely whoever this lucky lady is, she’d want you out of the house all day, so she could enjoy some time alone.” She could be an actor herself with such delivery.
“If that is her wish.”
“What is it you would do? Where would you go? Where would the money come from?”
Though he detected a serious note in her curiosity, he kept his course. “It would be a shame they wouldn’t pay me to enjoy her beauty all day.”
“She won’t be beautiful forever.”
“Oh, I doubt that. I think she grows more beautiful by the moment.”
Her eyes went to the dusty road. “I see.”
They took a few steps in silence, and he thought she might be questioning his sincerity. “I don’t mean to make light of my feelings,” he said. “It’s only that I enjoy the banter between us. And I don’t exaggerate much. You cause me to rethink everything in my life.”
“After a brief walk?” she asked.
“I feel that we’ve known each other for far longer than the time we’ve actually shared. Perhaps in a past life.”
She shrugged.
“To return to your question, though, I suppose I’d finish this school year and then go to London and become an actor.”
“An actor?”
He let his jaw fall in a gentle display of his dramatic sensibilities. “Yes, is that so hard to believe?”
“You’d be the first Wykehamist ever to grace a stage.”
He waved a hand in the air. “Not true at all. We’re doing The Merchant of Venice in the Shakespeare Society.”
“I would love to see that. Why don’t you recite a few lines for me?”
A bout of shyness ran over him. He glanced over at the inn, which was now only a few steps away. Though he wasn’t ready to say goodbye, he wasn’t ready to recite Shakespeare either. She seemed as sweet as a fig, but she came with a level of intimidation.
He offered a sly smile. “I’m afraid we’ve run out of time tonight.”
“Ah, I see. Well played, Miles. I suppose I should thank you for risking your life to see me again.”
“May I return?”
She bit her lip and looked him over once again, as if she were inspecting him. He wanted to assure her that he was a good actor and that he could make his way to the West End to find work, but he wouldn’t dare show her the weakness and worry that lingered around such a dream.
Finally, she whispered, “I am here nearly every day and night, should you return to High Street.”
He felt his dimples cave in again. “I’ll take that as a strong urging to return.”
“Take it as you will.” With that, she kicked up her chin and whipped around.
But she stopped to deliver one more message. “Though I admire your confidence, it’s your shyness that is your finest quality. The red in your face is a feather in your cap.”
He found himself lost for words as she nodded to him and disappeared into the pub. In that moment, he believed that he could do anything his heart desired.
He’d not beamed so brightly in his entire life as he had on the walk home along the river. If she was not careful, Lillian could set his world on fire. He strolled if there ever was a stroll, slow and steady steps that allowed him to feel the ground underneath his boots. He could hear the whisper of the water, the call of the moon, the breeze of his future stirring up forbidden dreams of a life of his own.
Manners makyth man, he thought as the school came into view, only a few gaslights showing the way. Manners makyth man , the school’s slogan. Indeed, the decisions he made now would make him whom he would become. Should he continue on his current path, Miles could lose his chance to be with a woman who was far more important than any other facet of his life.
He liked his classmates and his teachers, despite the difficulties, but he had never felt like he’d belonged at Winchester College. The same would occur at Oxford and even as he returned home to live the life of a gentleman. He would never belong, especially now, as Lillian had set something free in him, as though she’d opened the gates to the corral where he’d been penned all his life.
If she would allow it, he’d rush back to the pub and sweep her off her feet and take her somewhere for a new start, a place where they’d be free of their chains. Alas, he had no money and was unsure how he might ever succeed. Though he adored acting, did he have what it took to be the next Henry Irving? Or would they laugh at him and send him back to Winchester with his head down? If so, what would he do then?
Judging by the moon, he thought it must have been an hour past midnight when he finally reached his boardinghouse and hurried in the darkness toward the lavatory window. Miles took a deep breath and launched himself up on the sill and slipped inside. All was quiet as he came into the main hall.
Eerily quiet.
A match struck, and the room became visible in the faint light.
Miles turned to stone, fear barreling over him. His insides churned at even the thought of what hell he’d invited into his life.
Housemaster Warren stared at him from a seat in the corner. “Thought you’d go wander about, did you?” Though the man wasn’t particularly daunting in stature, he was frightening, nonetheless. He had sallow cheeks and penetrating eyes that carried punishment enough when he shot them your way.
“I . . .”
“Don’t you bother talking, young man.” He fired a finger at Miles. “You’ll never do this again, I can assure you that. Now get up to bed, and we’ll deal with you in the morning.”
“Sir.”
Miles didn’t hesitate and rushed up the stairs and removed his shoes before sneaking through the bunks to find his own. He slipped into bed, that rock-hard cot, and spent a long time staring at the ceiling.
It wasn’t the repercussions coming to him that were on his mind.
No.
He thought of one thing and one thing only.
Lillian.
Whatever was coming tomorrow, he’d welcome it a thousand times over to share another conversation, to stare into those eyes, to taste, to finally taste what it was like to love.