Chapter 14 #4
“I’m early, I know.” Sir Lionel angled his shoulders and pointed his walking stick at the pavement. “I could circle for twenty minutes.”
“No need. I’m nearly ready. Come in, take off your coat, and have a seat.”
He did as she instructed and searched her face. “How are you today? After that appalling experience.”
“Better. Better after talking to Doctor Lewis at the hospital this morning. Harriet is … well, she’s holding her own.”
“I must have just missed you.”
“I’ve …” Susan looked away. “I’ve felt guilty about Harriet.”
“Why on earth? Doctor Lewis said you and the princess saved her life.”
“I only mentioned the walk to see if she’d accept, knowing Princess Louise was among the party.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “A heartless, private amusement that ended in a shooting. And Harriet is a harmless creature, really.”
“Well, this is a confessional afternoon. I’ve had similar regrets about FitzGerald. I’ve had a running joke for weeks with Inspector Tennant about his probable guilt in all this business.”
“You don’t believe he—”
Lionel shook his head. “He’s certainly no Fenian. All those lesser FitzGeralds in the Leinster clan would be poor as church mice if the Irish nationalists clawed back their land. No, it was a harmless joke about a man I dislike. Now, it seems callous.”
“Why don’t you like him?”
“Let us say that I have my reasons. Did you see him at the hospital?”
“Yes. He’d taken the afternoon train from Windsor and was there all night. He was still at Harriet’s bedside this morning.”
FitzGerald’s face had looked like bleached driftwood washed up on a strand: stiff, white, with lines deeply etched. Peter had followed Susan out the door and then stood silent, searching for words. “I’ve not been good to her.” He touched her arm. “Nor to you. Have you forgiven me?”
“Of course. It was a long time ago.” When he took his hand away, Susan realized she’d felt nothing for him but compassion.
At the end of a slight pause, Lionel looked around the room and said, “I like the way you’ve arranged things.”
Susan smiled wryly. “My sister-in-law asked if I would be more comfortable with the furniture from my old rooms. When I accepted, it arrived with almost indecent haste.”
“Ah. And was she right?”
“Yes, as it happens.”
“And shall you enjoy living on your own?”
“It’s strange, but I’ve felt less alone here than amongst the multitudes in other people’s houses. I think my nature is solitary.”
“Hmm … not much chance of solitude at Windsor Castle. Why has the queen sent you a summons, do you know?”
Susan shrugged. “I’ll find out. I have a five o’clock audience with Her Majesty.”
“How long will you be away?”
“I wish I knew. My waiting for Alix is nearly over—next week, the end of January. Another lady-in-waiting shuttles in on the first day of February.”
“You certainly got more than you bargained for, but never mind the calendar. If Her Majesty commands, you wait,” Lionel said.
“While you wait, let me pour you a sherry in one of your beautiful glasses.”
Susan went to the drinks cabinet, set out a glass, and struggled with the seal on the bottle’s neck. She froze when she felt hands on her shoulders, trying to turn her. Susan jerked away, smashing the bottle into a glass and breaking its bowl.
Lionel stepped back instantly. Crimson surged into his face. “Forgive me,” he said stiffly.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Lionel. It’s … it’s not you. Not your fault.” She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. She looked up. “If only I could explain.”
“Come,” he said, standing carefully to one side, touching only her elbow. He led her to a chair, and she sat. “I won’t press you. But if you’d like to tell me, please know that you can trust me.”
“Yes. Yes, I know that.” She looked up with streaming eyes. Lionel fished out his handkerchief, and she wiped away her tears.
He said quietly, “Tell me.”
“You see, I didn’t hear you come up behind me. I … didn’t realize you were there.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Last Saturday … Oh, I’m starting in the wrong place. Telling this badly.”
“Take your time. Shall I pour another sherry?” He glanced at the cabinet and said, “I see five glasses are still intact.” She returned his smile tremulously and nodded. He poured a sherry and handed it to her.
Susan took a sip and set it aside. She knitted her fingers, looking down as the silence stretched out.
“It’s humiliating to put into words,” she said huskily.
“But I want you to understand.” Susan breathed a shuddering sigh.
“It’s an older story, but I’ll start with the Prince of Wales.
He stopped by on Saturday, knowing I was alone for the afternoon.
After nearly three years, I’d forgotten what it felt like to be …
cornered. The horror came back. And the disgust. Augustus, my husband, would … ” She looked away.
“I think I understand.”
“There was no tenderness, you see. Only pain. No intimacy, only his taking what he wanted. And always from … he never …” Susan looked away. “It was as if he didn’t want to look into my face, my eyes, to see me. So, when you came up behind me …” She covered her face with his handkerchief.
“Susan.”
Her hands dropped to her lap. “After a particularly … brutal night, I sought advice from our family lawyer—my family’s, not my husband’s. I thought the changes to the marriage laws … It was an excruciating conversation.”
“I can guess what he said.”
“He said I had no hope in law and quoted some jurist from the last century. A husband’s right to his wife’s body for … marital relations is absolute. Aside from him, I’ve never told this to another living soul.”
“It’s past time you did.” He watched her trembling fingers fold his handkerchief into a neat square and set it aside. He pulled a dining chair beside hers and took her hand. “Things fester when you don’t speak of them.”
“I think you are right.” She smiled tremulously. “Thank you, Lionel.”
“Susan, my dear …” He released her hand. “Perhaps this isn’t an ideal time …” He stood. “Will you allow me to say what I came early to ask?”
Susan looked up at him, her eyes luminous.
“Surely, you have some inkling … you’ve guessed my feelings.” He laid his hand on his breast and asked, “May I speak?”
She nodded.
He offered her his hands; she grasped them and rose. “Dearest Susan, will you marry me? Please don’t say the past is in the way. Please let me try to wash away every painful memory.”
“I won’t say it,” she said softly. Then more confidently, “Because it isn’t true. In all this terrible business, you are the one good thing.” Her eyes filled, and she blinked at her tears. “I fell in love with you.”
Lionel took a step forward and touched his lips to hers. When she slid her hands across his shoulders and around his neck, he kissed her again, lingeringly. Then his lips slid across her cheek, and he whispered, “Susan. My lovely, lovely Susan.”
She pulled back and looked into his eyes, smiling. “Your Susan.” And they kissed again.
After a while, Lionel held her at arm’s length. “I believe I could stay here all afternoon. Longer. But the royal train and Windsor await.”
“Goodness,” Susan said, startled. “I’d forgotten.”
“I shouldn’t crow, but not every man can say he drove an appointment with the Queen of England out of a young woman’s head.”
Lionel drew Susan to him and kissed her again.