Chapter 23
It was time to go home, but the crisp night air felt charged with a novel vibrancy as Greg thought about leaving with his fiancée, her hand in his hand, and heart in her hands. In the muted glow of the street lamps, the night hummed with the quiet anticipation of a shared future and the end of his loneliness.
Greg was used to leaving the Pearler’s house alone on Sundays, sometimes walking home in the dark to clear his mind. They were a wonderful lot, but there were, well, a lot of them, and he needed time to calm his mind before bed. His mind, previously a whirlwind of solitary musings after departing the Pearler”s lively chaos, now settled into a calm contentment, buoyed by Hermy’s presence.
Tonight, his mind would likely not be calm, and he wouldn’t walk home with Hermy in the dark because it would be unseemly at best, even dangerous. She’d gone upstairs with Lizzie, Rachel, and Hannah, probably to do something terribly girly. He’d rather not know. Too late, when he imagined Hermy trying on dresses and pulling her hair up or letting it fall over her shoulders, his entire body went hard like a plank and other parts like a rock.
He heard the faint clink of crystal on wood. The door to Gustav’s study was ajar. He’d ask him for permission to use the carriage.
But when Greg knocked on the door, it wasn’t Gustav’s voice that answered.
“Come in!” Eve Pearler—Fave and Lizzie’s mother—said in a raw, sad tone.
“I apologize, Eve; I didn’t know you were here.” Greg stopped near the desk.
Eve was facing away, seated on the settee, her body toward the crackling fireplace. She used both hands to wipe her eyes.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, dear. Don’t worry.” She sniffed, squared her back, and turned toward him with a stiff smile. If he didn’t know her so well, almost as well as his mother before she’d gone blind, he would have believed her act. But Greg had been there when his mother cried every night, many a day, too, and she went blind over the course of a short period. No doctor could figure out what was physically wrong with her, but Greg knew she’d seen too much atrocity and couldn’t bear it any longer, so she withdrew into her own world of darkness.
Oh, please don’t suffer the same fate, Eve.
He walked to her, and she pushed herself up to greet him.
”Don’t get up.” He took the seat next to her. “Why are you crying?”
“Darling son, I don’t cry. I’m a mother; there’s no room for me to—” She heaved.
“I love you like a mother, but you’re not my mother so that you can cry with me.”
She grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut. Tears escaped through her closed eyes, and she wiped them from her cheeks, burying her face in her palms for a moment.
“I miss your mother, Greg,” Eve said.
Now, he gulped. It was bad enough to see Eve Pearler cry in the dark of the night, but for her to shed tears for his mother rattled his manly resolve not to weep like a boy on her lap. Except her face was blotchy and tear-stained, her eyes bloodshot. He’d never seen her like that, which shattered the firm ground he usually stood on. It struck him that the tides were turning, and rather than him running to the Pearlers for comfort, it could be vice versa now.
Eve took a deep breath. “I spoke to your grandfather.”
Greg’s insides churned, but he remained silent.
“I’d like to host your wedding and invite him.”
“If he’d wanted to see me, he would have come to find me.”
“Perhaps, if he’d known where to look.”
“It’s not that hard. London doesn’t have many barons who are baptized Jews. He could have deduced that Father had shortened his name to Stone.”
“It’s not the practicality that prevented him, but the cleft. It’s almost insurmountable, Greg, you know that.”
“And yet, I’m a bridge, aren’t I? Between your family and … well, me. Between the Jews and the Gentiles. They won’t have me, and neither would you.”
“How on earth dare you say we won’t have you? We’ve welcomed you here like one of our own!”
“Like a son, Eve, but not one of them. Imagine if I had asked for Lizzie’s hand in marriage.” Her eyes darted to him, and she raised her chin as if a “no” would come flying from her mouth like a guillotine. It was a moot point since Lizzie was happily married to Caleb, and they were both among Greg’s closest friends. Nonetheless, the example stood firmer than the rule it proved: Jews and Gentiles didn’t mix.
“I see your point.”
“And yet you trust me.”
“Unconditionally,” she said, her voice softening.
Greg inhaled and leaned back, turning toward the lovely orange flickers on the mantel. “I often wish my father hadn’t done it.”
“Converted?”
He nodded.
“It was before you were born. We tried to talk him out of it.”
“I know. He told me.”
“He did it in part to make life easier for you,” Eve explained.
“Well, that backfired.”
She had a way of breathing as if she said “hm” to leave room for him to talk.
“I know Father thought he’d pave the way for me in parliament.”
“You’re there, Greg. You’re a member of parliament.”
“I’m a baptized, not-really Jew with a clean bloodline that’s not Jewish enough for your family, and yet I wasn’t Christian enough to pursue the love of my life. If that hasn’t backfired, then?—
“Oh Greg, darling”—Eve reached for his hand and patted it with her other, and he met her gaze—“life’s never that easy.”
He forced a polite smile, but rage cursed through his veins. “Not that easy” was an understatement.
“I told my children the same thing I’m going to tell you: It’s not all about getting to the top. For them, it was the appointment as Crown Jewelers; for you, it’s a seat in the House of Lords. Life’s trials start once you’re where you want to be. Getting there seems like the main hurdle, but it’s just the first act.”
He sighed. As much as he bristled against her words, he knew she was right. His parents had paved a certain way for him; now, it was up to him to make the most of it.
“Is that why you were crying?” Greg ventured.
She shook her head and brushed it off. Even though she leveled with him as an adult, she still protected him like a boy.
“Can I help in any way?” Greg pushed for an answer.
“Perhaps. But it’s not your priority now.”
She wasn’t going to tell him more, and pressing her further was futile. This was Eve Pearler, who reigned as queen of the Ton by willpower and merit. She had a firm grasp on everyone who mattered, and like a queen controlling the center on a chessboard, she could turn in any direction and conquer. And yet, she had the air of an overloaded piece, one that was protecting too many minor pieces and the king simultaneously. Was she surrounded?
Greg felt the opposite, like a lone knight jumping in an L-shape on the checkered board, but who was he defending? What was his purpose?
“I’m so lonely, Eve. Everywhere I go, I’m alone. I’m the only one who’s ascended to the peerage in the House of Lords through conversion; I’m the only one who doesn’t go to church because … I just don’t belong. No self-respecting woman at Almack’s ever considered me for a second dance unless out of politeness. I’m neither here nor there. Even in my own house, the staff look at me as if I were an imposter sitting at my father’s desk and sleeping in my parents’ chamber as if I haven’t earned the right to be there.”
She blinked at him in silence until he’d finished. But when she spoke, Greg thought the air had been sucked out of the room. “You didn’t, Greg. You’re the rightful heir, but have you earned it yet?”
“How can you, of all people, ask me that? The trade route? India! What about the foundling home scandal with Baron von List?”
“Of all people, it is I who can ask you on behalf of your mother because it’s not the wealth that I see but your heart.” Her voice was calm and unperturbed; her face had returned to its usual pallor. “Do you know what I see?”
“An idiot?” Greg was fuming. Why not pile on the insults? He could help with some vocabulary from the halls in Oxford.
“Oh, stop it!” She waved him off as if he were a child. “You always do as you’re told, Greg. You try to do right by everyone and everything. You’ve checked all the boxes for success, but you won’t get the credit you’ve worked for until you know in your heart that you’ve arrived.”
“I’ve been around the world; how have I not arrived?”
“Gregory.” She drew out each syllable of his name.
He blinked incredulously. “So it’s a bad thing to get it all done and done well? Shall I turn to a life of crime instead? Convert my fleet into an army of pirates, perhaps?”
She rolled her eyes and patted his hand with one hand, but she lifted her other index finger and wagged it. “Gregory Stone, if your mother were here.”
“She’s not.”
“Hence, you listen to me. No, listen to your heart. Unless and until you do what you feel is right, you will never be more than a bridge between the worlds you seem to long for and never reach. Bridges are paths people walk on. It’s laudable to be the path, but you’re only paving the way and not walking on it. You make connections—that’s the essence of a good politician’s role—but your life doesn’t exist within the confines of politics. Don’t ever forget that, darling.”
“So you admit that after everything I’ve done, I’m not a member of your family?”
“If that’s all you heard, yes. You’re not related to us, not by blood. But you can’t doubt our love and devotion; of that, you ought to be sure by now. What you seem to be missing is that you’ve crossed the bridge into our hearts, business, and lives. We depend on you as much as we depend on Gustav, Fave, Arnold, and even Pavel and his sons.”
“How is that not family then?”
She raised her brows and watched him like a professor practicing the Socratic method. For someone who hasn’t been to Oxford, she was terrifyingly good at employing the methods of the most feared professors.
“Because it’s too dangerous, and you’re taking on too much. We cannot send you into a battle on our behalf.”
“You didn’t. I went voluntarily. I stand against List and all of his hypocrisy.”
“Don’t,” Eve wagged her index finger again.
“I already am! List is using religion to further his own goals and gain influence in England on behalf of someone in Prussia. His drive is a struggle for power. Mine is for equality and meritocracy.”
“That’s the problem; you don’t see how big it is.” Eve shook her head as if she were forced to speak words she didn’t wish to materialize.
“I don’t? Was it not me who spoke up in parliament? Wasn’t it I who-“
“Fave told me after he read the transcript of your speech, Greg. I agree with you; of course, the person counts. Not religion, the lack thereof, and their wealth. But I have my contacts, and the danger looms larger than that of List and his wife. They were sent here to take me down to set an example for all the Jews in Russia, Austria, and even Prussia. One of List’s brothers has connections in Bavaria and Saxony.”
“That’s hardly news; all the royals are connected.” Greg squinted, trying to grasp why Eve feared the royal network more than before.
“Yes, they are united against us. And the only English peer standing against them is you. Where are your connections?”
“I earned mine. The trade route-“
“All of your connections exist as business relations. If there were a decree to prohibit them-“
Greg’s arms grew cold, and he felt the blood drained from his face. She was right. He was his own isolated pawn island, defending the Jews from… everyone else!
Greg shuffled his feet and considered her words. The tension in his stomach shifted. He wished it had gone away, but it merely turned into a flutter. Hermy. It was all about Hermy, wasn’t it? If he assumed the earldom, setting the abeyance aside and marrying Hermy, he’d be instantly connected to the English aristocracy, strengthening his position against List.
List wouldn’t allow it.
Greg’s mouth grew dry, and he gasped for air as realization washed over him. “It’s not your family I should strive for, but my own.”
Eve lowered her in a slow nod. “And?”
“And I’m supposed to look inside my heart for a cause to use my position for rather than do what I’m told or taught is right?”
A delayed smile crept up her face. “And?”
“Are you going to tell me to apply what I’ve learned instead of merely repeating it?”
“That would be a good start.”
“To earn a degree in mathematics? Oh wait, I already have one.”
Now, she smiled brightly. “Here’s my Greg back. Well done.”
“Seriously, Eve, how can I apply what I know to get what I want?”
“You’re asking the wrong question.” She placed a hand on her forehead and tilted her head back. You boys are all the same.”
“Fave, Arnold, and me?”
“Yes, darling. All of you children.”
“I’m seven-and-twenty.”
“A spring chicken.” She straightened her neck and rubbed her forehead. “Instead of applying what you know to get what you want, think about leveraging who you could be for what you need.”
“Hermy,” Greg mumbled.
“Her, but not only.”
“A family with Hermy.”
“And when you’re here, you’re part of the family but not really,” she added. “I heard you, and I’m sorry if we ever made you feel like an outcast. It wasn’t our intention, I assure you.”
“My father left the faith, so we don’t share something substantial anymore. My parents cast me out, not you. I blame them for being cowards and failing to fight like you and Gustav.”
“Your parents fought a different battle; they tried to get a foothold in parliament. It was never mine or Gustav’s aspiration?—”
“Because Jews cannot be legislators, I know. How is that fair?”
“Oh darling, fairness is a utopia for Fave’s mythology. I always taught my children, and that includes you, not to look for fairness, justice, or perfection.”
“Then what should I look for?”
“Wrong question, again.” She wagged her index finger. “You feel uprooted, darling.”
Greg swallowed. “I never meant to be ungrateful, but yes.”
“You’re not ungrateful, darling. You’re astute.” She snuffed and coughed a laugh.
“Is that your elegant way of telling me to go to?—”
“To the altar, Greg. It is time.”
“I’m going to marry Hermy.”
“But don’t do it for the wrong reasons because it won’t help your struggle. I’ve seen countless marriages falter under the pressure of the Ton. They have a way of getting under your skin. Even if you think their values are superficial, they chip away at your core until you crack.”
She rose and tugged at her gown to iron out the wrinkles from sitting. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, darling.” She picked up the crystal glass, downed the dark amber liquid, and sighed. Greg knew the burn of Gustav’s fine cognac. There were a few problems it couldn’t cure.
“Would you like some?” She reassumed her gracious hostess pose, tears forgotten—or at least suppressed.
“No, thank you. I’ll try to find Hermy and take her home.” Greg tasted the words. He’d just had Sunday dinner with his almost-family and the dearest people in his life, the Pearlers, and he was going to take his bride home. It felt good to say that, and it gave him hope. Perhaps he’d found a family after all, one in which he was the pillar of the father, following in Gustav’s footsteps in some way at least.
Then his heart plummeted.
Eve walked to the door and held it open. “Do you need to borrow the carriage?”
But Greg was hung up on a new problem, one he hadn’t considered. “What if my children feel uprooted? What if I cannot make Hermy feel whole?”
“You give us so much by being in our lives, Greg, and you haven’t escaped from your self-image of a bridge yet. Just imagine what you will do when you have crossed the path only you can lead us to?” She smiled with something other than motherly love, and Greg tried to discern it. There was a glint of awe but also a lot of faith.
“Greg?” Hermy’s voice came from the hall.
“Perhaps he’s over here?” Lizzie said.
“We’re here!” Eve cast him a smile. “Greg, you will shine a new path for all of us, and you have all my trust and loving support. Just be careful, darling.” Eve nodded, then went into the hall to speak with the girls.
Greg followed her to his beautiful fiancée because he knew one thing for certain: every bridge he cared to cross led him to her.