Page 43 of Marry in Secret
Rose would never have abandoned her baby, never, no matter what her father and the rest of them said or did.
“What about Aunt Dottie? Surely you could have gone to her. She seems as soft as butter.”
Rose smiled. “She is. Aunt Dottie is a darling, but I doubt she could keep a secret, and once it was out, Papa and Aunt Agatha would have been the ones to decide what would happen to me.” She shuddered. “I wasn’t going to risk that.”
“I’m so sorry. You had no one to turn to, and I—”
She reached up and put a finger against his lips. “Hush, it’s all in the past now, and besides, I did have someone. I had Ella.”
“Your friend, the little maid?”
“She was wonderful. She kept my secret, explained to mewhat was happening and how to deal with it, and helped me through it without any kind of fuss or bother. She was the same age as me, and could barely read and write, but she knew so much more about life.” She looked at him. “When I have daughters I’m going to make sure they know everything they need to know—and more.”
He didn’t respond.
“She left at the end of that year to get married. I gave her a set of warm woolen blankets and a teapot with pretty cups and saucers—she loved pretty things. Miss Mallard was shocked and told me it was far too extravagant for a maidservant, but I didn’t care. Ella was my friend.”
Rose glanced up at him with a speculative expression. “I also gave her twenty pounds just for her, to spend on what she wanted, and not to tell her husband about. Women should have their own money and not have to ask their husband or father for every penny.”
She waited for him to comment, but he didn’t. They hadn’t ever discussed the money issue. A woman’s entire fortune belonged to her husband, and he could administer it as he saw fit. She hadn’t given it much thought in the past, but George’s insistence that she was keeping her fortune and not letting any man get his hands on it had given her food for thought.
Thomas would be a generous husband, she was sure, but what if he wasn’t?
“So you stayed in school,” Thomas said. “I thought you hated it there.”
“Oh, I did, but Lily needed me.” She turned her head to look at him. Could she trust him with Lily’s secret? She decided against it. Lily’s inability to read was her secret to reveal if she wanted to.
“Besides, I was better off being in school, having to keep up a front, keeping busy.” Pretending everything was all right. She’d been so desperately sad after she’d lost the baby, drained and miserable and utterly despairing. Most days she hadn’t even wanted to get out of bed. But she’d forced herself to go on.
Only Lily had noticed that she wasn’t herself, but she’d said nothing. Rose wished now she’d told her sister back then, but she’d felt as though she were drowning in misery, and feared she would drag Lily down with her.
She was never going to let herself get into such a state again.
“At school there’s always something one has to be doing, and they don’t give you any choice. Besides,” she added, trying to brighten what was turning out to be a very depressing conversation, “Miss Mallard’s remedy for what she called ‘girlish megrims’ was a tablespoon of cod liver oil, and let me tell you, Thomas, that stuff tastes disgusting.” She pulled a face.
There was just one last thing she had to say to him, and then... she’d have done what she had to. Not quite expiation, but as close as she could come.
“I’m sorry I lost our baby, Thomas.”
He lifted his hands helplessly. “It wasn’t your fault. These things happen.”
Outside the rain hurled itself against the windowpanes, rattling the windows in their frames.
“I didn’t even cry for the baby. I wanted to. Ella kept telling me to have a good howl, that it would do me a power of good, and I tried, I really did. But somehow, I just... The tears wouldn’t come.” She shook her head, bewildered. “I think I’m just naturally hard-hearted.”
“You’re nothing of the sort.” He hugged her tighter, stroking her hair with impossibly gentle, rough-skinned hands.
“I’m sorry about yesterday. I think you got four years’ worth of tears in one burst.”
“Four years?” He twisted in his seat and stared at her, shocked. “You mean you hadn’t cried—”
“For four years? No.” She was hard-hearted, she must be.
“Not since...?”
She nodded. “Something inside me got, I don’t know, blocked. And yesterday, for some reason, it unblocked itself. So I’m sorry if I embarrassed—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, you have nothing to apologize for—nothing!” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
