Chapter 35 - Vera #2
Vera took it gratefully; she’d left hers at home. And didn’t that just say everything? How deep could her mourning be, if she’d forgotten that basic necessity?
“I fear I’m not up to this, after all.”
Dahlia nodded, then bit her lip. “If—if it would be helpful, I’m happy to relay an order to Madame Aubert on your behalf. I take it the measurements that she last used are still correct?”
Vera nodded and dabbed her eyes, choked by her own confusion. Of all the times for grief to surge within her, why did it have to be now?
Perhaps it was because what Dahlia had done for her here was exactly what Vera wished her mother would have done, when she was alive.
Weren’t mothers supposed to help their daughters choose fabrics and think of which ensembles would suit them best?
But not her mother. Her mother had done the exact opposite. On purpose.
“I would really appreciate you placing the order, if that’s not too much trouble.”
“Not any trouble at all, Vera. Truly. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Thank you, Dahlia.”
Though she’d taken the carriage to Madame Aubert’s, Vera sent it home and walked. The footman only protested once—Madame Aubert’s shop was in an excellent part of town, mere blocks from her father’s house. Vera hadn’t even brought a maid on the errand.
In truth, Vera had acclimated to the freedom of the countryside. She enjoyed her solitude, her long walks about the grounds. Her ankle felt much better now, and how she longed for fresh air and greenery!
Mist still clung to the ground and hovered undisturbed in the mouths of the alleys.
Vera didn’t want to return directly to the squared-off rooms of the brick townhome, filled with sour memories and her mother’s collected trinkets.
So instead of turning right toward home, she went left, toward the park.
A half an hour, she told herself.
No one would miss her for that length of time. It was still early—the house wouldn’t even be open for visitors for an hour or more. There would be plenty of time for Vera to pinch some color into her cheeks and decide whether she wanted to risk frowns in the grey bombazine.
The park was lovely, even at this time of year. There was something crisp and clean about air surrounded by greenery. It was a pale comparison to Devon, but Vera would take what she could get.
She missed Stephen with a breathless intensity whenever she was alone. When she’d left, she’d naively thought she’d be back within a fortnight, a month at most. Vera hadn’t thought to be tethered here by her family’s grief and expectations.
Vera wished now that she’d flung her arms immediately around Stephen’s neck when he’d proposed.
She wished she’d interrupted him with an eager “yes” when he’d declared himself.
But she’d been choked by the depth of her emotion and the beauty of his words.
She’d thought she’d have more than a single moment to make her reply.
She thought she’d have more time with him.
She’d thought she’d have all of it, actually.
Vera plunked down upon a bench that overlooked a small pond. A wreath of mist clung to the shoreline and lazily drifted overtop the still water. At the far side, a swan lifted its head to inspect the intruder, then tucked its bill beneath its wing once more.
Now who knew how long it would be until she saw Stephen again? Perhaps she should write him a letter. She’d started one, several times, but she selfishly wanted her answer to be given face to face. Vera wanted to see him hear it, the first time she confessed her love.
Vera plucked at the stiff taffeta of her skirts and frowned.
Surely he would wait for her. Surely he wouldn’t take her lack of a response as a denial…
right? But in that moment, Vera suddenly wasn’t sure.
It must be a difficult thing, to declare oneself and ask for a lady’s hand.
Far worse to ask and then have the lady say nothing at all.
Across the pond, the swan lifted its head once more.
Vera turned to see what had captured its attention.
A gentleman approached through the mist. Some nobleman taking his daily constitutional around the park, no doubt.
At this distance, Vera could almost imagine it was Stephen walking toward her.
The man had similar height, dark hair, a similar gait.
Several moments later, Vera stood with a slight gasp. It wasn’t her wishful thinking—it was him. The improbability of it staggered her for a moment. What on earth was Stephen doing in London?
When he got closer, he called, “Vera.”
Vera had the sense to close her gaping mouth, but that was all she could manage.
And then Stephen was there, and real, and pulling her into a hug. Vera dug her fingers into the fine charcoal wool of his coat and sagged against him.
“I’m so sorry about your mother,” Stephen said.
“What are you doing here?” Vera’s bewildered words were muffled against his chest.
Her head was tucked quite neatly beneath his chin. She could smell the combination that was uniquely him—soap, cedar, and just a hint of medical disinfectant. To Vera, it was the headiest cologne in the world.
“I’m here for you, naturally.”
One hand soothed Vera’s back in slow strokes, leaving a wash of pleasant warmth behind every pass. The beating of his heart was a steady thrum beneath her ear. He was strong, sure, and she felt safe in his capable arms.
After long moments where Stephen simply held her, he finally set her back far enough to peer down at her face. “How are you, Vera?”
“Much better, now that you’re here. I feel terrible about how we parted. I hope you know I thought of you every day since I’ve been gone.”
More like every hour, she thought, though it felt reckless to admit such a thing.
“And I you.” His warm smile crinkled the corners of his intelligent eyes.
“Now that we’re together again, I must answer your question—”
“No.” Stephen held up a hand.
Vera’s heart lurched. What did he mean, “no”?
“I don’t want you to answer the question, not when it was so inappropriate in light of the circumstances.”
“Circumstances?” she echoed faintly.
The only thing keeping her tethered was the fact that Stephen still held her waist. Vera’s fingers clutched deeper into his coat, as if he might thrust her from him at any moment.
“Of course. It’s not how things are done. Though I confess I never meant to cut your father out of the rightful proceedings, but both of us were working with faulty information. It was easily rectified.”
“It was?”
Once again, his words had turned Vera into a deranged echo. She clamped her mouth closed and decided not to utter another word until she caught the full meaning of what he was saying. It was one thing to be stupid—it was another thing to let on by speaking every moronic thought in her head.
Stephen’s smile deepened, as if he could read her thoughts. As if he considered her dull repetitions adorable instead of idiotic.
“Of course. I just came from speaking to your father.”
You did? Vera thought, but kept the promise she’d made to herself and sealed her lips.
“He’s agreed to let me ask you a very important question.”
Here, Vera was obliged to let go of his coat, as Stephen dropped to one knee. She thought it was safe to do so—he could hardly make a run for it from that position, and she’d kick him hard in the knee if he tried.
“Vera Callista Ashbury, I love you. Deeply—”
“Vera!” someone hollered from behind them. It was her brother Bertrand, emerging from the trees. “Where are you? Ah, there you are!”
Stephen gritted his teeth and muttered, “Dear heavens, I’ll shoot that man. Physician’s ethics or not—I swear I will.”
“Bertie Ashbury,” she yelled, pointing at the far tree line. “If you don’t leave right now, I’ll let Canterbury set his dog on you.”
Bertie jerked to a stop, turned round, and went with all due haste.
“He doesn’t like dogs?” Stephen tilted his head.
“Arthur’s been teaching Seamus to growl. For cheese.”
Stephen opened his mouth, shut it, and shook his head. “Please put me out of this miserable suspense. Will you marry me or not?”
“Yes.” Vera beamed down at him. “Nothing would make me happier. I love you, Stephen.”
Stephen grinned and stood, then pulled her into his arms. His lips found hers. And though she’d studied the textbooks that he’d given her, she suddenly found them lacking, too. For she’d never before read that a person could fly while their feet were firmly upon the ground.
Yet she was flying. The mint and tobacco of his breath told her he’d been nervous—he only indulged in a cigar when he was anxious about something. She reveled in the warmth of his skin, the tender movements of his lips against hers, as if he wished to learn her.
Vera dazedly wondered if she’d ever tire of this. No wonder they cautioned young ladies against kissing a man, even one that you loved! Now that they’d started, how would they ever stop? It was a wonder there weren’t scandalous displays of this kind all over London!
“Vera!” Bertrand sounded like he was choking on the impropriety of it all.
They broke apart.
Vera whirled, her hands clenched into fists, murder snapping in her eyes. “We’re betrothed, Bertie! If you interrupt us again, I shall cheerfully strangle you myself!”
Bertrand went, hopefully for the last time. When she turned back to Stephen, he was laughing.
Vera shook her head. “I’m not certain I am glad to be back in the family fold.”
But they both knew she was lying—it was trying sometimes, to have people care about you, but it was far better than the alternative.
Stephen grinned. “I hope you don’t find it too presumptuous of me, but I’ve already made plans to call on Dr. Halveston this afternoon.”
“Are you unwell?”
“I’m in perfect health, I assure you. But I don’t have any patients in London, and Dr. Halveston has more than he can see. I thought to ask if he’d send them my direction, start building a practice.”
Vera frowned and stepped back. “Here? In London?”
“I thought that, being so recently reunited with your family, perhaps you wouldn’t be keen on putting such a great distance between you so soon.”
“I’m very keen on returning to Devon, though it has nothing to do with putting distance between my family and me.”
“Truly?” Stephen grinned. “You wish to make our home in the countryside?”
“I do. You don’t need to establish a practice here; you already have one in Devon. My family may come and visit as often as they like.”
“You do realize that you are getting a package deal, accepting me? Not that I’ll let you out of it now that you’ve said yes, but Benjamin will live with us until he’s ready for Eton, and Anne will be with us indefinitely.”
“You know I love Anne. In fact, perhaps I’m accepting you just to act as her mother,” she teased.
Stephen smiled in that tender way he reserved only for her. “I’m not proud; I’ll still have you no matter why you’ve agreed. I’ll just have to work very hard to make you love me over time.”
“I already do, you know. Love you.”
“I love you, Vera. Immensely. Oh!” He set her back once more and rummaged in his coat pocket. “I almost forgot. This is for you. Though I suppose I’ve bungled it by not offering it to you while on my knees. Shall I do it again?”
“No. I believe you already have some goose droppings on your knee from the last time.”
He grimaced, angling his leg to inspect the damage. “I’ve always heard romance can be a messy business, but I never imagined they meant this.”
Vera cleared her throat, her eyes on the small velvet box he held in his hand. Stephen laughed and opened it, letting the morning light play over the large, light-blue stone set in a simple gold band.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s stunning. I adore it.”
“It reminded me of you.” He slipped the ring on her finger.
Vera held it up to the light, enjoying the pleasing weight, the fact that Stephen had chosen it just for her. “I do love blue.”
“Not just because of that, though I’m glad to hear it. It reminded me of you because it’s a diamond, but it’s rare. No one will know it’s a diamond to look at it. I thought that was much like you—infinitely precious, and none of those idiots could see it, and I’m so grateful for it.”
Vera’s chin wobbled; she blinked back the tears that threatened to blur her vision of the stunning stone.
“Thank you, Stephen,” she finally managed to whisper.
“But we’ll have to get you a simple, smooth band to wear, too. That stone is far too large to wear during medical procedures—it will catch on the bandages and get in the way of your stitching.”
Vera laughed.