Chapter 4 #3
Amelia patted her back gently. “Go home. Cry. Sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” They'd reached High Street. A cab slowed as it went past. Amelia waved it down.
“You get this one, it’s headed your direction,” Ellen urged. “I’ll grab the next.”
Amelia paused, one foot already on the step. “Are you sure? We can share. I dislike you being alone at this time of night.”
Ellen shook her head. “There’s another cab coming. Get in and rest. You deserve it.” She shoved her friend up into the cab and waved the driver off.
As the cab drove off, drunk men guffawed behind her. Ellen glanced back in the shadows, but couldn’t see much beyond several stumbling figures. She lowered the hood of her cloak and raised her hand to her hat, walking toward the brightest lamp to flag down the next cab.
The men, bored and eager for a good time, lurched closer to her. Soft footsteps crept nearer.
Ellen spied a hansom only a few yards away. She waved her hand in the air, heart thumping. Speed up, she urged. Before they get here.
A boot scuffed behind her. Ellen grabbed hold of her hat pin and yanked it out, brandishing it like a sword.
A man appeared before her, haloed in the gaslight. He gasped as the sharp pin poked into his chest. “It’s just me.”
Ellen glared. “Mark? Are you quite serious? What on God's green earth are you doing?” Her stomach lurched. She had forgotten he’d existed, for a few short hours, and it had been marvelous.
He winced, pushing the hat pin away. “It’s not safe for you to be here.” He glanced over his shoulder at the drunk men, growing ever closer.
“I have a weapon.” Ellen refused to lower the half-foot-long hat pin. She heard the cab come to a halt behind her. The horse huffed a breath, sounding as angry as she did.
“Coming or not?” The rough, East End accent broke the tension between Ellen and her husband.
Ellen rolled her eyes and turned to climb in the cab. Mark followed her.
“Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” Ellen stared at the man now pushing her cloak and skirts aside to make room for himself on the faded seat.
“Taking you home. What does it look like I’m doing?” Mark closed the door behind him and flipped the trap open above their heads. “Berkeley Square.”
With a jerk, the horse stepped forward. Fuming, Ellen listened to the wooden wheels turn over the cobblestones. She turned to Mark. “Did you follow me?”
Mark ran a hand through his sandy hair. “It wasn’t safe to go off after dark like that, without telling anyone where you were going. Of course I had to follow you. It would’ve been irresponsible not to.”
Ellen shook her head in disbelief. “And so you sat outside the Patels’ home for five hours?”
Mark huffed. “My backside certainly feels it. How did the labor go, by the way?”
Ellen’s jaw dropped. “What are you doing? Pretending this is normal conversation between us? Pretending the past eight years never happened? Acting like you care about babies and labor and pregnancies?” Her voice went shrill, even to her own ears. Ellen fought to regain control.
“We need to talk, Ellen.” Mark’s brown eyes bored into hers.
“I refuse to give this up. You cannot make me.” Ellen crossed her arms.
Mark gestured broadly. “I’m not even sure what this is! Did you attend medical school while I was at sea?”
“No.”
“We need to talk. And not just about this.”
All the fire and anger swept out of her, leaving her bone weary. Ellen sagged against the dirty upholstery, closing her eyes. “Please, Mark. Leave me alone. I can’t do this with you. I don’t have it in me.”
“Ellen.” He said her name so tenderly it brought tears to her eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought…I thought we had agreed this separation was best for both of us. I hadn’t realized—” Mark gently rested his hand on her knee.
Ellen jerked it away, his touch scalding her. “I said no.” She meant it to come out sharp and hard, like shards of glass. Instead she sounded like she was about to burst into tears.
After several moments of silence, Mark spoke again. “I can tell my presence distresses you. I have no wish to hurt you any further, but we’re married, and our lives affect one another.”
Ellen sighed and opened her eyes to look at him, the man she’d loved, the man who’d left. She remembered the weeks of disbelief and denial, the months of heartbreak and anger, the years of disdain and indifference. “If I hear what you have to say, will you promise to go away?”
Mark hesitated. “I can’t promise to go away, but I can promise to give you some space.”
She was so tired of fighting, of hating, of grieving, of trying so damn hard to live. “Fine.”
“You’ll listen?” Mark sounded uncertain, perhaps wary she had suddenly capitulated.
“Tomorrow. Come tomorrow morning and I shall receive you.”
The cab halted beside the square. Ellen breathed the fresh air, listening to the wind through the trees as she waited for Mark to pay, then exit the cab. She climbed down, ignoring Mark’s offered hand. “Please don’t escort me to the door.”
To his credit, he didn’t.
Ellen slipped inside, ignoring Meeks’s disapproving look, and fell asleep in her bed before she had even undressed.