Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Eight days later
Every time her father looked at Tessa, he forgot the words of his sermon, grinned, then scrambled to find his place again.
Except for the disruption, it was the same one he did this time of year ever since she could remember.
Everything the same, including the gash in the pew where she sat with her mother and sister.
Same pew, same seat, same mark, same sermon.
She’d even donned one of her old gowns because her new ones seemed too bright for church as a rector’s daughter.
It hadn’t fit her then, and it fit her even worse now.
Not merely the gown. All of it.
But every night since returning to the rectory, Verity had climbed in bed with her and hugged her tight, and that kept her from crying. So did her father’s grin and flawed sermon. They were both glad to have her back.
And her mother… she had unpacked the attic, returned everything to Tessa’s old room with a tight nod and a swift wipe of her hands on her apron.
“Welcome home,” she’d said, then ducked her head and mumbled, “I’m glad you’re back.”
After six years of silence, it felt like a benediction.
And if she wasn’t happy now, she would be.
She dug her thumb into the old gash, chipping her nail on a thick splinter.
Verity kept turning around, glancing over her shoulder, and when Tessa followed her line of sight, she found Aria and Daphne sitting in the back of the church. No brothers present.
And when her father finished, and everyone began to file out, Verity burst out, louder than the murmuring congregation, “Can I walk with Aria today, Mother? Please?”
“Absolutely not.”
“But she’s right there and I’m right here, and it would make me particularly happy, and you know I’m always better behaved when I’m happy.”
Daphne caught Tessa’s eye and nodded toward the exit.
Tessa couldn’t follow. The crowd was too thick and too slow, and her sister and mother argued all the way to the back of the sanctuary.
“I do not care if you are happy, Verity, as long as you are good. Do you understand?”
Happy. Good. Happy. Good.
Tessa had made her mother happy by being good.
Which had made Remmy so unhappy it physically hurt to think of his expression the last time she’d seen him.
I’m not that good. A punch to a very startled face, which made her happy any time she thought of it, despite the fact she had been startlingly unhappy in the last week since that particular incident.
Tessa shook her head, feeling dizzy, and followed her arguing mother and sister out of the church and into the gloomy Sunday morning.
An arm slipped through hers. “There you are,” Daphne whispered.
“I’ve been trying to get you alone, and I must make use of your mother’s focus on Miss Verity to give you this.
” She slipped a folded square of paper into Tessa’s pocket.
“Do not look at it now. It’s an advertisement for the Folly, announcing a special event tonight. ”
“How… how do you have it?”
“Remmy left for London when you left Crossvale. You should have seen him. He was fully clothed! And he’d taken out his earring!
Mama and Papa were terribly worried. Kit says he needs time to grieve.
But Frederick went after him. He returned yesterday with that paper in your pocket, saying Remmy was determined to be good if good was what Tessa King needed. ”
The clouds over the sun seemed to thicken, threatening rain.
“Can you tell me what’s in it?” Tessa asked, slipping her hand into her pocket, feeling the thick paper.
“He’s planning a special show of some sort. Frederick says it may put the Folly at risk.”
“No! But how?”
“He’s going to say it’s not him.”
A fat drop of rain hit Tessa’s cheek.
Daphne’s too. “We must go. Aria!”
Aria popped out of the crowd where she’d been standing behind Tessa’s mother. Likely eavesdropping. “Coming!” She waved at Verity who wiggled her fingers.
Tessa’s mother spun around and spotted Aria. “Verity!”
Tessa squeezed Daphne’s hand. “Thank you. Thank you. You have no loyalty to me. I hurt your brother. I am sure you do not even wish to think of me.”
“Nonsense. We love you, don’t we, Aria?”
The young girl nodded.
“Just as we love Remmy. And sometimes the ones we love make decisions we do not agree with, but”—Daphne shrugged—“still we go on loving. Oh dear, your mother’s spotted me. Do let me know if you need me. For anything!” She squeezed Tessa’s hand then bolted into the crowd.
Her friend had to run, hide, to avoid Tessa’s mother, the same woman who approached now, saying, “Tell your sister, Tessa. Tell her your father and I only want what is best for you both.”
Verity looked up at Tessa, eyes bright and, concerningly, a little violent. Behind that, though, a raw softness Tessa felt in her bones.
“I… Yes, Mother, you do want what is best for us.”
Verity blinked and her mother gave a stout nod.
“But,” Tessa said before her mother could launch into another lecture, “I am not sure you and Father actually understand what best is. At times.”
“Tessa!” Her mother looked about, glancing into the faces of every passerby who might have heard. “It’s time we go home. Mr. Tilbury is coming for dinner tonight.”
“Why didn’t he have to go to church?” Verity grumbled. “He’s a vicar.”
“Verity!”
Before her mother could catch her, Verity ran down the road, clutching her bonnet to her head, ribbons flapping in the wind behind her as a spattering of rain darkened her shoulders.
When Tessa caught up to her mother, the chatter of the churchyard had dissipated, and her own shoulders were damp all the way through her spencer. Deeper, too, somehow.
“She’s young,” Tessa said.
“She’s like you!” Her’ mother’s face was mottled pink, and strands of red hair were pasted against her cheek like open wounds.
It wasn’t far to the rectory, and though it rained lightly most of the way, the sun shot through the clouds when they entered the front gate. Water sizzled in the heat, and a light mist rose off the grass.
They hesitated together in the entryway. Tessa inspected her shoes, her mother the ceiling.
“I’ll change my gown.” Tessa waved toward the stairs.
“Do.” Her mother disappeared toward the kitchen.
Tessa flew up the stairs and into her room.
She fell onto her bed and slipped the advertisement out of her pocket, unfolded it slowly.
It was covered in large block text from top to bottom, and it promised “a spectacle of the highest order, a revelation of truth, at the Grand Folly Theatre.” It was to be a “confession of most scandalous nature between the evening pantomime and Lovers’ Vows. ” And admittance was free.
“What are you doing, Remmy?”
There was one final note, in smallest typeset, at the very bottom of the page: “Special appearance by Richard Islington.”
Islington… Islington… the name was so familiar, but she couldn’t place—
Richard Islington. R___ I___.
She rose from the bed and wandered toward the window, folding the advertisement neatly and resting it on the sill. Surely, he wasn’t going to… But Daphne had said Remmy was determined to be good. Because that’s what Tessa needed.
No! She didn’t need good. Her mother did. And if Remmy confessed that Islington was the June Rake instead of himself, he might lose his audience. He would lose the Folly!
No. No, no, no. Why would he do that?
Because he loved her. And she’d chosen her mother, Verity, and by extension Tilbury. And he wasn’t done fighting.
Something inside Tessa broke in two. She inhaled, an unexpected sob ripping up her throat.
She loved him. For so, so long she’d loved him, though it had been impossible to see.
She’d not known love was soft and steady.
She’d not known it could look like disappointed eyes as well as a teasing grin.
She’d not known it could scorch and it could please.
She’d not known it could fill a person up so fully it became a part of them. It became them.
But it did. And she felt it all for Remmy—the need to protect, to tease, to challenge, the desire to be his soft home and his hot fire.
She wanted to be his everything.
Because he was hers.
There was no right answer here, no wholly good decision. She hurt someone no matter what she chose. She might as well choose for herself.
She stuffed the advertisement in her pocket and flew to her trunk.
She’d have to move fast. She wouldn’t be able to carry much.
But the stagecoach could get her to London in time if she left now.
She found her valise and began to stuff it full—chemise and stockings and a gown, her tooth powder and hairbrush.
A knock on the door startled her.
“What are you doing?” Verity hovered in the doorway.
Tessa stood. “I… I’m leaving.”
“Oh good. That means I do not have to set a fire in the garden.” She bounced into the room and made herself comfortable on the bed. “Frederick Ives is waiting for you down the road. Should I tell him you’re coming?”
Tessa sat heavily on the bed beside her sister. “Set fire in the garden? I think we moved on from that statement too quickly.”
“A distraction to help you escape. I’m fully prepared to do it if needs must. Frederick said I could.”
“Needs absolutely do not must.”
“A pity. But I am pleased you’re storming out of your volition.”
“I wish I could stay, Verity. I know I am failing you, but I cannot marry Tilbury.”
Verity blinked. “Of course you cannot. What a tragedy that would be.”
“You’re not… disappointed in me? I’m abandoning you. Mother and Father will never let me near you again.” Not if she married Remmy, and she would if he’d still have her.
Verity shrugged. “I’d rather you happy somewhere else than miserable nearby.”
“If I marry Remmy, they won’t let me near you. It will be another six years until we—”
“Three at most.” Verity grinned. “I’m determined to misbehave terribly once I turn sixteen. And if they do not send me away first, I will run. It would be nice to have a happy sister and jolly brother-in-law to run to.”
Tessa popped upright. “You cannot!”
“Oh, but I will, eventually, when they toss me out as they did you. I would have already run, only I haven’t found anything that is worth being tossed out for.
But when it comes, I will not hesitate. I learned that from you.
A woman must follow her heart, even if it upsets those who are supposed to care for her. ”
She hugged her sister, and the little warm body vibrated strength, was everything she’d ever wished to be, could still be. If she could not stay, she owed her sister at least that—strength. And love.
“You must write me, Verity. Promise. We’ll send letters through Lady Crossvale.”
“I promise.”
“And if Mother is too much, you will go to the countess.”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Her arms were around her, squeezing. It hurt to leave her. “Forgive me. Forgive me, Verity.”
“Nothing to forgive. Go.” But her little voice was strained, her eyes glossy.
There was no winning. Whatever she did someone would hurt. “Is that really what you want?”
Her sister nodded. “If I didn’t, I would say so.”
She wiped a tear off Verity’s cheek. “Always say so. Never silence yourself. Do you understand?”
Verity rolled her eyes, and Tessa finished packing then hesitated in the doorway before leaving.
“I have something to say to Mother before I leave. Stay abovestairs. Or, at least, stay where Mother cannot see you.”
Verity grinned.
“I love you,” Tessa said. Because she felt it and because she didn’t want Verity to go as long as she had without hearing someone say it.
“I love you, too.”
The words buoyed Tessa, carried her down the stairs, and she found her mother in the parlor, mending the heel of a stocking.
She looked up from her work, confused. “You’ve not changed your gown.”
“I suppose I haven’t. Mother…” Tessa clutched her valise tightly. “I’m not going to marry Mr. Tilbury.”
Her mother stood, her mending falling to the floor. “Yes, you are.”
Tessa shook her head. “I’m not, and nothing you can say will change that. I’m going to London, and I’m going to marry Remington Ives, and I… I hope you will still accept me in your home. I hope you will allow me to see Verity and—”
“Stop this, Tessa. It’s nonsense.” She sat and retrieved her mending, though it lay idle in her lap.
“I will not stop. And it is not nonsense. It is my heart.”
“It is your future. And Mr. Ives is a rake. I will never allow him in my home or near my daughters.”
Tessa closed her eyes against the tears. Verity, please forgive me. “Then you shall never see me again.”
Her mother shook her head, fixated on the ruined stocking in her lap. “No.”
“I’m leaving for London now.”
“Return to your room and await Mr. Tilbury’s arrival.”
“Why aren’t you listening to me?”
“Because you’re acting foolish!” Her voice was a whip lashing out. It cut through skin so easily.
Tessa flinched. But she held her ground, too. “Have you ever loved me?”
Her mother scoffed. “I did not think you could get worse. If you mean to leave, Tessa, by all means, leave. You’re well-practiced in it.”
“I left because you would not allow me within these walls if I did not do as you pleased!”
“Daughters owe—”
“We owe you nothing!” Tessa screamed. “Not if you do not love us!”
Her mother clutched her chest.
And Tessa dragged each new breath into her lungs, pushing down her rising rage.
“I hope you love Verity more than you have loved me. That’s all I’ve wanted from you. Love. But you…” Her valise was so heavy now, and outside the window, she saw movement in the woods across the road. Frederick. The Iveses wanted to help her be happy; they treated her with love. Her own mother…
“Duty.” The word seemed to choke her mother, and the stocking was a strangled clutch of wool in her clawed hands. “Only duty matters. It alone can keep you safe.”
“I want more than to be safe.” Tessa turned out of the parlor.
But her mother’s voice made her stop. “I do love you, Tessa.” Said so quietly, the words almost didn’t exist.
But Tessa had heard them, and she looked over her shoulder at her mother, tears flooding her eyes. “I will not stay.”
Her mother nodded, little bobs as small as her voice had been.
“I will write to Verity. Show her more love than you have me.”
Then she walked out of the house and across the road.
Frederick stepped out of the woods, hands in pockets. “I assume you need my help.”
“How long would you have waited?”
“As long as I needed to.”
She hugged him. “Thank you.”
“No need for that, Tess. Let’s just get you to London.”