Chapter Three #2
Ross’s words from Saturday night came to mind— I should have written— and she had to blow her breath out slowly so as to avoid the intensity of anger she’d felt at his words.
“I remember Mama being quite vexed by your refusal to go to London.”
She’d disappointed both her parents by declining the chance to secure a good match.
The memory made her sad. “Even so, I remained faithful to Ross. I would not consider the idea that Ross might have abandoned me, and I told myself he’d simply been unable to send correspondence.
That was easier to believe, especially when his regiment was sent to France. ”
Timothy whistled under his breath as he turned to her. “He fought?”
“I saw his name in the reports— that’s how I knew he hadn’t simply gone to India as he’d expected.
After that, I looked for his name in every report that came to the house.
As long as he was not in the listed dead, I clung to hope.
I immersed myself in books and music, asked Mama for a tutor so I might improve my French.
And then, one dark and lonely day, I realized I had not heard from him in six years, and I hadn’t seen his name in the reports for months. ”
She had to pause and shake her head. Even having lived it, she couldn’t believe she’d waited so long. “I did not know if he was dead or alive, but I could not hide from the fact that either way, he was not coming for me. I still can’t believe it took me so long to come to my senses.”
“Is that when you went to work for Mr. Corrings?”
Regina made a sound like a growl in her throat.
Mr. Corrings was her next embarrassment and another way in which she had disappointed her parents— though disappointment seemed too light a word.
But there was no reason to keep the details from Timothy— not after she’d already revealed so much.
Besides, he knew of the scandal— everyone did— only he did not know all of the reasons behind it.
Mr. Corrings was a puffy man with three grown sons, four young children in need of a governess, and two dead wives.
Having only recently admitted to herself the level of her foolishness in putting her entire future on hold for Ross’s return, Regina accepted the position, which she’d seen advertised in the paper— against the advice of her parents, who were embarrassed to have her work— and six months later accepted Mr. Corrings’s offer of marriage.
“I took the position in hopes that a new life would distract me from my old one. Mr. Corrings’ offer seemed to be my only hope of having a family, and though he knew I did not love him, his children were sweet, and he and I were both lonely.
Love would come in time, I told myself, but after the engagement was announced...
” She stopped herself, unable to keep the heat from rising in her cheeks as she stared at her shoes peeking out from her hem.
“It was acceptable for him to hold my hand, to sit close beside me.” She shuddered at the memory of it but knew she needed to clarify before Timothy thought something truly ruinous had taken place.
“There was nothing that most couples would not find... enjoyable,” she said in Mr. Corrings defense.
She had once lain in Ross’s arms and watched the clouds, and had even allowed him to steal a kiss or two.
Mr. Corrings had not expected any more than that.
Those moments with Ross had created stirrings within her, feelings that gave her reason to anticipate pleasure from such things again.
But Mr. Corrings was twenty-two years Regina’s senior, with a fat stomach and jowls that hung loose below his chin.
More than that, she did not love him. When he put his arm around her, she cringed and pulled away without thought, then excused her reaction as nerves and tried to steel herself for his future showings of affection.
One night, he’d kissed her fully, and she had been so horribly repulsed by it, that she had sworn off marriage completely, not only to him but to anyone at all.
If becoming a governess, and then becoming engaged to her employer, hadn’t been embarrassment enough for her family, breaking the engagement after it had already become public had created a great scandal.
Her father had had to make a settlement to Mr. Corrings, and Regina had been sent to stay with a distant cousin in Sheffield.
Eventually, she’d accepted a job at a girls’ school near Brighton, where she’d taught French and literature until Timothy’s wife had passed away and he’d asked her to return to the home of their youth to help him manage the place.
Their father had passed by then, disappointed in his daughter to the end, and Mama had been in poor health.
Regina had returned like the prodigal, determined to make her mother proud by managing the home and her brother’s children as well as any woman could. And she had.
By the time Mama died two summers ago, their relationship had healed.
No one spoke of Regina’s past, accepting that she was a dependable woman with pleasing manners, a generous heart, and admirable skills in household management.
It was as though none of the horrible things had ever happened, and, on most days, she could believe it too and be content in her place.
After she finished her tale, they sat in silence for some time, until Timothy cleared his throat.
“And now your Mr. Martin has returned.” He did not phrase it as a question, but the statement asked a dozen questions nonetheless.
“Yes, he has,” Regina answered. Her discomfort at having already said so much spurred her to stand again.
She shook out her skirts and pretended interest in the miniature roses growing beside the trellis.
She fingered one of the velvety blooms but pinched it too hard, causing the petals to bruise and break.
“What shall you do?” Timothy asked.
Regina took a breath and kept her eyes on the remnants of the rose she’d just destroyed. Not everything could be put back together. Not roses. Not hearts. “I shall do nothing.”
“Are you not curious as to why, after all this time, he’s finally come back?”
“Not curious enough.”
“Curious enough for what?”
She turned to face him. “I don’t know that I ever really loved him— I was a child, and he was as much fantasy as he was flesh and bone.
Clearly, whatever it is he might have felt wasn’t enough to bring him back as he promised.
It was not enough to even induce him to put pen to paper in all of those years.
We have both chosen our courses, and there is nothing he can say or do that will undo the years.
If I could have my way of it, I would prefer never to see him again. ”
“I understand that he called on you the day following the ball.”
“He came for his hat and coat, then requested an audience, which I refused.” Regina had recovered her confidence now that the whole of the mess had been explained. “The staff has been given carte blanche to send him away without consulting me if he comes again. I have no desire for his attentions.”
“You did not know that he called again this morning, then?”
Regina startled. “He did?” she said without thinking. “This morning?”
A slight smile lifted one side of Timothy’s mouth, and she felt herself blushing as she turned back to the roses, this time crushing one on purpose.
“He was turned away, per your instructions, but he left something for you, and Shaw asked me if he should approach you regarding it. You gave them no instruction on how to handle gifts. Would you like to see it?”
Regina composed herself then turned to face her brother, who held out his hand, palm up, but fingers closed. She knew what he held before he opened his fingers to reveal the small metal key, which looked more like a knob.
“You recognize it,” Timothy said, watching her face and surely reading it better than she would have liked.
She wanted to reject the gift, to roll her eyes and stomp away, but instead, she reached out and reverently took the key from his hand.
Ross had kept it all these years? The lump in her throat took her off guard, and all of the feelings she had felt during this interview became a bundle of confusion in her mind.
“It’s a key,” she said, stating the obvious.
She turned the key over and thought how just a short time ago it had been in Ross’s own hand.
“A key to what?” Timothy asked.
“To a music box I once owned.”
In her mind, she was taken back to their final meeting at Hanson’s wall.
She’d already known he was leaving, so she’d brought a token, something for him to return when he came back— a symbol of the incompleteness she would feel without him.
The music box had been a gift from her grandmother and one of Regina’s dearest possessions.
The swan won’t sing until you bring this back to me, she’d said while becoming lost in those green eyes, which made her think of oceans and hayfields and springtime.
“Do you have the music box still?” Timothy asked, bringing her back to the present.
Regina closed her fingers over the key, then looked up at her brother.
“I did not take it with me to Mr. Corrings’ estate, and when I returned, it was gone.
Likely a servant took it, not realizing it was silent without the key.
” She shrugged as if the loss did not bother her. “Many things are lost over time.”
“Yet Mr. Martin did not lose your key,” Timothy pointed out.
Regina held his eyes for a moment before looking away. “The return of my key is too late for the music box, and the return of Mr. Martin is too late for me.”