Chapter 6 #2
He recognized Lieutenant—Reverend—George Abernathy at once, who styled his blond hair away from his face with pomade. He was short of stature and broad across the chest. He wore sober evening clothes except for the glitter of a pocket watch chain.
Reggie felt Lucy tug his arm, and when he leaned toward her, she murmured, “Is it…?”
He nodded.
“Ah,” she said with satisfaction.
When Abernathy noticed them, he seemed to draw himself up, his face reddening, his mouth twitching as if he withheld a smile.
Though Reggie wanted to roll his eyes at their display of longing, he suddenly realized he had once looked at Lucy across a ballroom that way. His realization went a step further—Lucy had been nearly betrothed when he met her, just as Madeleine was.
And how would he have felt if someone had tried to keep them apart?
To her credit, Madeleine did not rush forward to meet Abernathy. After weeks at sea with her, Reggie knew she was a smart young woman who would appreciate the timing of achieving her goal.
“So that is Mr. Abernathy,” Lucy said, gesturing toward the entryway.
Madeleine blushed. “How did you guess?”
“The expression on your face.” Lucy’s voice had grown softer, and she looked past Reggie at Madeleine with gentle understanding.
Madeleine bit her lip, her blush deepening.
And Reggie knew he’d lost the battle.
He wasn’t all that disappointed. He thought of his late commander and imagined him considering Madeleine’s future. But if he’d seen his daughter’s face and known her true joy at her reunion with the vicar, perhaps he, too, would have understood that she’d only suffer with a choice not her own.
Reggie cleared his throat, drawing both women’s attention. “Shall we go introduce Lucy to Mr. Abernathy?”
Madeleine stared up at him as if she’d been presented with a birthday and Christmas gift all wrapped in one. Tears sheened her eyes, but she held them back. “Thank you, Reggie, I would enjoy that.”
She moved before them, leading the way, uncaring of the admiring stares of other young men.
Lucy wrapped her arm around Reggie’s. “I had no idea your romantic streak was quite so deep.”
“Just looking at them reminded me of how longingly I stared at you from across a ballroom.”
She bit her lip, eyes lowered, a lovely blush on her cheeks.
He wanted to say more, but decided that he was in her good graces for the evening and would bask in her approval.
Then she looked up at him earnestly. “So you will not force her to be with a man she doesn’t want?”
He stared into her eyes, his smile fading.
Was this what she herself was feeling? That he was forcing her into a kind of marriage she didn’t want?
A coldness swept through him, but he managed to say, “I will have to hope that her happiness with a good man would have been enough for her father. Still, it will be uncomfortable for her to break the engagement with Sir Gideon.”
“I think she’ll manage.”
Lucy patted his arm as they took their final steps toward the couple who gazed at each other with such open happiness. Madeleine and Abernathy reached forward to hold hands before seeming to remember where they were.
Reggie said, “Good to see you again, Abernathy.”
Abernathy bowed with a flare of military precision. “Good evening, Captain.”
“You know Miss Fournier,” Reggie said dryly. “May I present my wife, Mrs. Lawton?”
Lucy reached out her hand and Abernathy bowed over it. “I have heard so much about you, Mr. Abernathy.”
Reggie hadn’t thought Madeleine’s blush could grow any redder. He was wrong.
“All good things I hope.” Abernathy seemed almost nervous as he glanced at Madeleine.
The quartet suddenly struck up a waltz.
Abernathy faced Reggie and asked, “Sir, may I ask Miss Fournier to dance?”
Though the ballroom around them was loud with chattering voices, among the four of them was a sudden strained silence full of hope and dread.
“You may, Mr. Abernathy,” Reggie said solemnly.
Madeleine’s smile became blinding with happiness. Hand in hand, the two of them set off for the center of the ballroom, where the other young couples had begun to dance.
Why did he feel suddenly old, when he was not yet thirty-five? He and Lucy had once danced in the center of a ballroom, and her sweet exuberance had made him see beyond his military career, beyond the tension of duty in India.
Though he used to think himself capable of achieving anything, he had this deep fear that grief and separation had changed him too much. He didn’t want to think about it anymore, so he took his wife’s hand and slid his other arm behind her back.
“Shall we dance, Mrs. Lawton?”
They did not speak, just danced wide sweeping steps around the ballroom.
They spun together, focused on each other, and Reggie felt like they were whirling too near a chasm that could be the end of everything he’d cherished about his marriage.
He’d given Madeleine what she’d wanted, but worried that even that wasn’t enough to make his wife happily take him back.
How could he show her what was in his heart when words and actions didn’t seem to be enough?
And then he thought of his journal, the one he’d begun on the long voyage to India, when the only way he could express his grief over the loss of their precious Anna was to write the words he never thought he could share with his wife. He’d always believed such things would hurt her.
But could letting her see the hurt in him remind her of the bond only they shared, the things they could not find a way to speak of?
“You’re very quiet,” Lucy said, as they left the crowded ballroom for the tea room after sharing a second dance.
He took a deep breath, not certain what to say.
Then Lucy gave a wave to someone behind him. He turned but didn’t recognize the woman walking briskly toward them.
“Mrs. Winslow,” Lucy called in a pleasant voice.
Reggie thought he recognized that name from her letters.
“Good evening, Mrs. Lawton!”
The two women briefly clasped hands before Mrs. Winslow turned to look at Reggie with a shade of skepticism.
“May I present my husband, Captain Lawton,” Lucy said.
Reggie gave a brief bow.
“Reggie, Mrs. Winslow is a member of the London Female Aid Society.”
“Good to meet you, Captain,” the woman said.
But the tone sounded indifferent, making the words a formality. Reggie held back a frown.
“Were you able to make the festival, Mrs. Lawton?” Mrs. Winslow asked.
“Yes, we were,” Lucy answered. She gestured to Reggie. “My husband proved quite invaluable setting up our booth.”
Mrs. Winslow sighed. “Unlike my husband, who was the cause of our delay.”
This was one of the women Lucy had spent her time with, Reggie thought, leading his wife to believe marriage was not a celebration of togetherness, not a union that would help them withstand the worst that parents could experience.
Reggie found himself wishing to pull his wife away but knew Lucy would only think him selfish.