Page 73 of The Beauty and the Boxer
“Your fault?” Sarah said, before it dawnedon her. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Meredith. You running away did notdrive her to become a callous old woman. She blames you for Papawhen he was already on his death bed. Had you stayed and held vigilover him, he would have still passed.” She took a deep breath.“Mama has been bitter for a lifetime. It’s only seeming to begetting worse as she ages.”
“Oh, Meredith. I do not want you to go,”Beatrice said, worried. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“It’s all right,” Meredith said. “I’ve livedaway too long.”
“No one is going anywhere,” Sarah said andMeredith could have sworn she stomped her foot, though it washidden beneath her skirts. While she had technically given up hertitle, no one ever managed to be as regal as Sarah when she was ona mission. “If Mama’s mind is truly unwell, we have the recourse totake care of her. But I refuse to have either one of you return toher home, only to take her abuse because you feel for whateverreason, that you are due it. Now, I will write Mama, informing herthat you are here and we will settle this properly. Is thatclear?”
“Yes,” Beatrice said, visually relaxing asher shoulders slumped.
“Very well,” Meredith agreed, while she andSarah shared an anxious expression.
They knew, even if their mama was in poorhealth, that she would never give up Beatrice to be raised in ahouse she considered ‘morally impure.’ Still, Meredith knew theyhad to try. She hadn’t realized how much her mama’s constant guilthad weighed her down for years. Until she came to live with Sarah,Meredith had been quiet and accommodating. It had taken nearly ayear to remember that she wasn’t a shrinking violet. She hadthrived living with her sister and knew the Beatrice should havethat same chance.
The sisters were silent for a long moment,all three lost in their own thoughts. They spent the rest of theday in each other’s company and Meredith had felt an odd sense ofcloseness with them that she hadn’t felt in many years, not sincethey were girls. It was a reassuring sort of feeling and theyseemed to take a great deal of pleasure in each other’s presenceand sharing news, such as Sarah’s pregnancy. It was a bonding timethat they hadn’t experienced in a long time.
That evening after dinner Meredith retiredto her room. Though she had been preoccupied with her sisters, Jackhad never been far from her mind and she wondered what he wasdoing. Had he read the paper? What would he think of her beinglinked to Sir Kent?
She wanted to talk to him, to see him. Shewas still upset with his response to her request to wait atDragmoor. She disliked waiting just as much as he did, but whatchoice did they have? Why should a year matter? And would he reallykeep away from her? Meredith felt her heart ache at the thought ofnot seeing him again.
She was nearly self-pitying when a knock onthe door caught her attention. It was the maid, Carol, holdingsomething to her chest.
“Yes?” Meredith said, rereading thepaper.
“Pardon me, Miss, but it’s urgent. Well, thedelivery boy said it was urgent.”
“What is?”
“This,” she handed her the letter. “He saidI was to give it to you directly, night or day.”
Meredith’s brow furrowed as she took theletter.
“Thank you, Carol.”
The maid bobbed her head and exited the roomquickly. Meredith did not recognize the handwriting, but opened itquickly.
Dearest wife,
How I’ve missed you. I believe we are longoverdue for a conversation. If that is so, meet me at the Swan onStokes Pub tomorrow at noon.
Yours,
C
Chapter Fifteen
Jack rounded his hands, cracking hisknuckles as he watched the fight continue below him as he stood ona bench in the center of the room behind the Canterbury club. He’dbeen shouting for the last half hour through a crowd of spectators,all bellowing and cheering on their champions. He had been in theclub for days, trying to focus and fight his way through his ownthoughts and feelings.
It was all he could do to distract himselffrom Meredith.
Jack knew he had missed some romanticgesture, some important thing when he had refused to wait. If hewere a gentleman, he might have made such a promise. He might havegone on poetically, promised to wait for her for a hundred years,like one of those peers who wrote poetry for a living, but thereality of it was that he couldn’t bring himself to wait, not evenanother week. Not when he had already waited his entire life.
It had dawned on Jack when he returned toBurnwall, that he had been waiting his whole life to find someonelike Meredith. Someone with whom he could create the type of lifehe had barely been brave enough to dream about.
The way she looked at him, the way shespoke. Everything about her fascinated him and he had theunmistakable need to be in her company at all times. The desire tobe close to her, to touch her consumed him and he couldn’t help butfeel like a jackass for realizing she didn’t feel the same way.
A year. Or more. What a ridiculous thing toimply. If she was able to wait a year, it was evident that his ownfeelings far surpassed hers. He needed to focus on something else,anything else. He felt it deep in his bones, wanted her beyond allreason, and it infuriated him that she should ignore it.
That’s why he had thrown himself into theboxing match, which unfortunately, Fredrick was losing.
