Chapter Forty-Two

“C hildren, it’s time to come inside.”

The whispering from the den grew silent. Then William spoke.

“Read the sign.”

Lawrence lowered his gaze to the lettering on the piece of paper pinned to the rosebush marking the den’s entrance, scrawled in Roberta’s hand.

Keep out. On pain of death.

“Supper’s ready,” he said. “You can’t stay outside all night.”

“We’re not hungry!” Roberta cried.

“ I am,” Jonathan whispered, and Lawrence caught sight of movement among the bushes.

“Traitor!” Roberta said. “Get back here.”

“I’m no traitor,” Jonathan whined. “I’m—Ouch!”

“Come inside before I lose patience,” Lawrence said. “Hiding out here won’t make things any better.

“Neither will coming inside,” William said.

“You’ll catch a chill.”

“What do you care?” Roberta sneered.

“I care very much,” Lawrence said.

“Liar!” William replied. “If you cared, you wouldn’t have let Mama go.”

“She wasn’t your mother, William,” Lawrence said.

“You said she was!” Jonathan cried. “You told her she was—and she believed it.”

“Well, she’s gone now, son, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“You can bring her back.”

Lawrence sighed. “I miss her too.”

“Then go and rescue her from the bad man!” Jonathan said.

“Ye gods, boy—she’s not Lady Hamilton needin’ saving from Bonaparte’s clutches, and you’re not Lord Nelson!” Lawrence roared. “She went willingly—and she hates me.”

“That’s not our fault,” Roberta said. “It’s yours . Go away—if she doesn’t want to be with you, then neither do we.”

“There’s a beef pie in the oven—and I’ve put some potatoes on, fresh from the garden. Come in or go hungry. It’s your choice.”

“Don’t want pie!” Jonathan wailed. “I want Mama!”

Cursing, Lawrence trudged back into the kitchen.

They’d come when they were hungry—there was nothing better to stop children from sulking than a good pie on an empty belly.

Only they weren’t sulking. They were grieving.

For the woman who’d made the pie.

He pulled out five plates from the cupboard and set them on the table. Then he caught his breath, staring at the fifth plate before returning it. Sighing, he approached the range to check the potatoes.

He stirred the pot, and the potatoes swirled around the water, bumping against each other. He pressed the back of the spoon against one to test it, but it was hard as a stone.

Shouldn’t they be cooked by now?

He placed his hand on the range.

Warm, but not hot to the touch.

Curse the bloody thing! Why couldn’t he get it to work? She’d never had trouble using it—except for the first few days after she arrived.

He shoved the pan aside. It slipped from his grasp and tumbled to the floor, landing with an explosion of water and potatoes, one of which rolled under the range.

“Bugger!”

Well, it could bloody well stay there. They’d have to make do without potatoes tonight.

Which left the pie—one of two he’d found in the pantry. She must have made them the day before they’d left for the Trelawneys’, ready for supper on their return. But, given the luck he’d had so far, the pie would be uncooked also.

He opened the door to the range and reached for the pie.

Pain shot through his fingers as he grasped the pie dish, and he jerked back, falling to the floor.

Bloody hell , that hurt.

For a moment, he lay on his back staring at the ceiling, besieged by the memory of the day she’d slipped in the garden and fallen on her back—when he’d fallen on top of her, and they almost kissed.

He closed his eyes, willing the memory to linger—the soft scent of rose, the taste of honey on her lips, her beautiful sapphire eyes filled with love…

Then he opened his eyes to a ceiling smeared with smoke stains.

He’d promised to clean those stains for her, but he’d forgotten, dismissing the task as a frivolity. But that frivolity would have made her happy. Made her smile. More than anything, he wanted to see her smile. But he’d never see her smile again.

Would she smile for Dunton?

He shuddered at the thought of that vile man’s hands on her. But in the end, she’d chosen Dunton. She had tilted her haughty little nose at Lawrence—and the children—before climbing into Dunton’s carriage, sentencing herself to life in a golden cage.

He inhaled, and the rich, sweet aroma of spiced apples caressed his senses. Not beef pie, then. He must have picked up the wrong one. It smelled delicious, nonetheless.

He sat up and glanced at the range. The door was open, revealing a dark, gaping hole, like a toothless mouth. And beside it was the pie—upside down, surrounded by shards of pastry, its contents oozing over the floor.

“Fuck!” he cried. “Fuck, fuck, fuck !”

He struggled to his feet, glanced up, and froze.

Three faces peered through the kitchen window, silhouetted against the evening sky.

“Lawrence—are you all right?”

“Of course he’s not, Uncle Ned!”

They disappeared, then the door opened and Ned walked in, followed by Sophie and Sam.

Sophie rushed toward him. “Are you hurt, Mr. Baxter?”

“I’ve had an accident with supper.”

She glanced at the floor. “Yes, I can see that.”

“Sophie, love, don’t be tryin’ to help him up,” Sam said. “Not in your condition.”

“I’m with child—not dying,” she huffed.

Lawrence withdrew from her touch. “I can manage myself, Mrs. Cole.”

“ Sophie , please,” she said. “We’re among friends, are we not?” She glanced about the kitchen. “Where’s Bella?”

“She’s not here.”

“I can see that also,” she said. “Well, if we’re quick, we can clear the mess before she comes down. Have you any bread or cheese? That’ll do for us—save her the bother of cooking.”

Lawrence shook his head. “I-I don’t understand.”

“You invited us for supper,” she said. “Don’t you remember?” She let out a laugh. “My Sam’s always accusin’ me of being forgetful because of my condition, but I swear a man’s memory is worse than a woman’s.”

“Sophie, don’t talk nonsense,” Sam said affectionately.

“I speak the truth and well you know it, Sammy, love,” she replied. “When Bella comes, she’ll agree, I’m sure. Is she upstairs? I’m anxious to see her.”

“No!” Lawrence cried. “For devil’s sake, woman—can’t you understand? She’s gone!”

She turned. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“She’s left us.”

“Bella? Has she taken the children?”

“No—they’re in the garden.”

Sophie shook her head. “No,” she said. “Not Bella—I could understand if it was that Mrs. Duffy from the other end of the village—she’s got a right wanderin’ eye. Lord knows how many different men have fathered them kids of hers. But Bella ? No.”

“Oh, fuck,” Ned growled.

“Uncle Ned!”

“She knows , doesn’t she?” Ned said.

Lawrence nodded.

“Did you tell her, or did she find out?”

“She found out—and now she’s gone.”

“You fool,” Ned growled. “You bloody, fucking fool!”

“Uncle Ned, what’s—”

“I bloody told you, didn’t I? I said this would happen if you continued to deceive her.”

“For heaven’s sake!” Sophie said. “Will one of you tell me what’s happened to my friend?”

“She’s back with her fiancé,” Lawrence said, wincing at the bitterness in his voice. “She decided that a life of a duchess, with big houses and fancy clothes, was better than a life with them that love her.”

“She what ? You’re making no sense.”

“He speaks the truth, Sophie,” Ned said.

“Uncle?”

“It’s not my confession to make, Sophie, love. Go on, Lawrence—tell my niece what you’ve done.”

Lawrence’s head throbbed and he pressed his fingertips against his temples—but the pain persisted.

“Bella… She’s not Bella,” he said. “She’s Lady Arabella Ponsford. And she’ll soon be”—he drew in a sharp breath as bile rose in his throat—“she’ll soon be the Duchess of Dunton.”

“You’re jesting,” Sophie said.

“Of course he is, Sophie, love,” Sam said. “Aren’t you, Mr. Baxter? What would a duchess be doin’ with the likes of us?”

“I speak the truth,” Lawrence said. “Bella had no idea who she was until this morning. She…”

He drew in another breath. Sweet Lord , this was hard!

“Sh-she lost her memory in an accident.”

“I know,” Sophie said. “She said how you were helping her to remember everything. But…”

The color drained from her face.

“I remember now!” She lifted her hand to her forehead. “I remember thinking how strange it was that you’d not mentioned a wife when you first arrived at Brackens Hill. Then, after you brought her here, you said she’d disappeared before…”

She shook her head. “I-I thought at first she’d run off with a man—abandoned you and the children—and you’d taken her back, until I saw that she really had lost her memory. But it was all a falsehood—a story to deceive us. And I believed her lies.”

“She never lied to you,” Lawrence said.

“I-I don’t understand.”

“Bella deceived no one, Sophie. It’s I who deceived Bella. Made her believe…”

Horror sparked in Sophie’s eyes.

“You made a lady believe that she was your wife—mother to your children? Why would any decent man do such a thing?”

“For Justice,” Lawrence said, wincing. How weak that sounded!

“ Justice? ”

“Her fiancé, the duke, employed me in his garden. In a fit of spite, she burned all my possessions and refused to pay me. So when I saw a chance to make her work off her debt, I took it.”

“Holy mother of God,” Sam whispered.

Sophie stepped forward. Lawrence caught a blur of movement before pain exploded in his chin, his head snapping back with the force of her blow.

He staggered back, nursing his jaw. Bloody hell , that hurt!

“Sophie!” Sam said. “What the bleedin’ hell do you think you’re doing?”

She shoved her husband aside and advanced on Lawrence again. He retreated until his back came against the wall.

“How dare you speak of justice! There’s no justice in what you did—only vengeance. Cold, calculated vengeance against an innocent woman.”

“She wasn’t innocent.” Lawrence winced.

“She was ,” Sophie said, shaking off her husband’s restraining arm. “I don’t care what she’s supposed to have done! No woman deserves to be abducted and deceived—’specially one who’s lost her memory. Can you imagine how frightened she must have been? Alone in the world, ripped from all that she’s known, and placed at the mercy of a man determined to ruin her for his own gratification.”

“She had no loved ones,” Lawrence said. “I saw her fiancé disown her with my own eyes—”

“So, you stole her for your own? That’s not collecting a debt—it’s slavery .”

Slavery…

An ugly word, but was he so dissimilar to those who indulged in the flesh trade? What made his lies any different to the shackles that a slaver used to affirm his ownership over another human soul?

“Had you killed her with your own hands, you wouldn’t have committed a worse crime,” Sophie snarled. “And your children—did you deceive them also?”

“No,” he said. “They never knew their mother—she died bringing Jonathan into the world. But they came to see Bella as their mother.”

“Why, you…” She raised her arm, and Sam caught it.

“Don’t be distressin’ yourself,” he said. “Come away before you do any real harm.”

“Why should you care for him after what he’s done?” Sophie asked.

“I don’t, Sophie, love, but I don’t want you upsetting yourself. Think of our child.”

Tears rolled down Sophie’s face, and she let out a cry. “Bella…” She buried her head in her husband’s chest while he held her in his arms, rocking her to and fro. The tender gesture of a gentle-hearted young man caring for his beloved clawed at Lawrence’s heart. Their love was plain to see—a pure, abiding love founded on honesty, mutual adoration, and respect.

And for a shining moment, he’d deceived himself into believing that he and Bella shared such a love.

“Did you know about this, Mr. Ryman?” Sam asked. Sophie stopped crying and stared at her uncle.

Ned colored and nodded.

Sam let out a whistle. “Bloody hell.”

“Sophie?” Ned approached her, but she raised her hand.

“Don’t come near me, Uncle.”

“I told Lawrence to tell her,” Ned said.

“Why didn’t you tell her yourself? Were you too weak?”

“It wasn’t my place.”

She nodded. “So, you were too weak.” She turned to Lawrence. “ Both of you, weak men, too afraid to say or do what’s right if it risks making your pathetic lives less comfortable.”

“Perhaps I am weak,” Lawrence said. “I was wrong at first—I know that. Do you think I’ve not suffered in the knowledge that I’ve been doin’ something so wrong? I’m still suffering.”

“Well, forgive me for not carin’ one jot about your suffering,” she retorted.

“I suffer because I love her!” Lawrence said. “Maybe not at first—though it touched my heart when I first saw her to see her so unhappy with people who only valued her for what they could take from her.”

“Makes them no different to you.”

“I cared ,” he said. “I cared that she was condemning herself to a life of misery. I hated her at first—her vile temper, the way she considered the world beneath her. But as I came to know her, I realized that was an act she played to survive. She played the part well—the haughty lady, taking satisfaction from wielding power over others—but the loss of her memory freed her true self. The woman who emerged and blossomed into Bella—my Bella—was the purest soul on this earth. And when she smiled”—he hesitated, beset by the memory of her beautiful smile, her sapphire eyes illuminated with love—“it made my soul sing. Lady Arabella never smiled. But when my Bella first smiled at me, she captivated my soul. I resolved, then, to spend the rest of my life ensuring that she never stopped smiling.” He shook his head. “How could I tell her the truth, knowing that if I did, her smile would die? I loved her too much to do that to her. I…”

His breath caught as he fought to withstand the agony in his heart.

“So help me God, I know I’m destined for hell, but I love her. I know she’ll never forgive me, and I’ll have to make peace with that. B-but I cannot bear the thought of her being in the hands of a man who will never value her, much less love her. She deserves to be loved.”

He looked up, but tears clouded his vision, turning his companions into blurred shapes.

“ That is why I suffer—not in knowing what I have lost, but in knowing what life awaits her. Even if she hates me with every fiber of her being, I shall always love her.”

He flinched as Sophie approached him. Then she lifted a hand and placed it on his jaw where she’d struck him moments before.

“I understand,” she said. “Love can catch you unawares. It can creep into your heart and settle there. It’s the most joyous thing in the world, but with the sweet comes the bitter, for the loss of a loved one cannot be borne.”

A sob swelled in Lawrence’s throat, and she drew him into her arms.

“Sophie, love…” Sam said.

“Oh, shoo! Both of you, go and find the children.”

“They’re in the garden,” Lawrence said. “They’re refusing to come in.”

“They’ll come around,” Sophie said. “Children are resilient. Despite what you’ve done, I can see you’re a good father to them. They’ll forgive you.”

“And Bella?”

“Not even her memory coming back can destroy the love she bore you.”

“She didn’t—”

“Yes, she did,” Sophie said. “She’ll forgive you in the end. But you must reconcile yourself to one possibility.”

“Which is?”

“That you will never be able to forgive yourself.”