Page 55 of Rejected
After Justin left, she wrote Laurie a letter, in her frenzy, which she did not remember having written, let alone sent the next day.
She only discovered that she had, in fact, sent it, when Laurie himself appeared on the doorstep of Orchard Hall within less than twenty hours, his hair disheveled, his clothes crumpled, his face a mask of fury.
He came in the door already yelling.
Dear Beth,
Oh no
twenty-three
“How could you think that of me?” a voice thundered from below-stairs. “Answer me, Jo, this instant!”
Laurie’s voice.
No, that could not be quite right.
For one thing, Laurie was supposedly oceans away, in another country. And for another, that was not his voice. It resembled it closely, but Jo had never heard him scream like that, in pure agony.
Jo ran to the landing across the gallery, leaving her manuscript unfinished, and peered downstairs. It was an hour before midnight, and almost everyone had withdrawn to bed.
A half-asleep servant appeared to have opened the front door against his better judgement, and was now struggling against someone who was pushing his way in. That ‘someone’ had a tall, lean figure which Jo could have known anywhere. He’d cut his hair since the funeral, and lost more weight.
And he was absolutely screaming.
“This is insanity! How could she everthinkthat of me? How could sheaccuse…?”
“Beg pardon, my lord,” Sainted John’s calm baritone interrupted the chaos. Jo saw him from above as he ran from the library to the servant’s assistance. “How may we help you in this hour of night?”
Laurie stopped screaming long enough to take in his appearance. A tremor shook his body, as if hewere holding in an emotion of great intensity. Jo was suddenly overcome by the need to laugh.
He looked positively deranged and tragic at the same time, standing there with his cravat slightly askew, as if he had galloped here all the way from Paris.
Paris. Amy.
The laughter died as abruptly as it had come. She turned away to leave.
I cannot be here. This cannot be happening.
“Do I know you, my good man?” Laurie’s voice was asking Sainted John downstairs. It sounded faint, as if he were beginning to wonder whether he had taken leave of his senses. “This is Orchard Hall, is it not? Seat of Viscount Vidal?”
“Indeed it is,” John replied, and Jo could not resist turning back for a peek. She saw John sweep an arm to welcome Laurie in. “I am Lord Brooke, Margaret’s husband. And you must be Lord Lowry, if I recall correctly?”
“Afraid not,” Laurie said, swaying on his feet. He looked like he were about to drop dead on the carpet. “What you see before you, sir, is what’s left of the former Lord Lowry.” He leaned his elbows on his knees, struggling to catch his breath. “I appear to have turned into a lunatic.”
Jo took pity on the poor man—John, that is.
She climbed down the stairs as slowly as she could, but eventually, she was standing in front of Laurie, without having thought of anything to say to him.
Immediately, he straightened. His eyes were a study in torment and beauty. How could he be even more handsome now than he had been before? Her heart, which she thought safe from him, blew wide open as if from a strong wind.
“Jo,” Laurie murmured in the reverent tones of one who was in the presence of a spirit. “How could you!”
That destroyed what was left of her self-restraint. She clamped her lips shut, because if she spoke now, she would cry.
“How could you think that your sister…” Laurie sputtered, “that your… How could you even consider the possibility that I…” He appeared to have trouble forming words. “How could you eventhinkthat I would look at another woman? And your sister, of all people? Great heavens, of all the mad things…” He suddenly went very white, and John rushed to catch his arm before he fell.
“I’m sorry,” Jo murmured, but Laurie was not capable of hearing her.
