Chapter 33

W ith shallow seats and straight backs, the pews of St. Augustine were designed for the ease of rising and kneeling (as required throughout the service) but gave little consideration to the seated moments in-between. Angelica wished they could return to the time before wooden benches locked them in place for the entirety of their worship; while she had agreed with Mr. Peck’s decision to install them and appreciated the far more reverent and orderly services, Angelica hadn’t anticipated a time when she wished to disappear into the congregation.

Using the unyielding wood to keep her spine as rigid as a pole, Angelica held her head high as she stared at the pulpit, refusing to look away as the vicar raised his voice as if calling forth the fires from heaven that had consumed the wicked priest of Bael.

“Truth is eternal. It does not change from year to year, shifting with the ever-changing whims of man,” said Mr. Peck. “Though modern minds try to twist the doctrines to fit their desires, God is unchanging, and from the very beginning He said, ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery.’”

Mr. Peck’s gaze fell to Angelica, boring into her as though that one look might cause her blackened soul to wither and die, but she remained steadfast, refusing to turn away.

Nothing traveled faster than news. Especially that of the shocking variety. However, knowing the gossip concerning Mrs. Guinevere Cogswell’s defection would spread through the village faster than influenza was one thing, but seeing the truth of it a mere three days after The Incident was still shocking. With the Christmas season afoot, most of the congregation believed their worship satisfied for the month by attending the expected Christmas Eve service and the various saints’ festivities; the quietest services of the year were the first few Sundays in January, yet today, the nave was filled to bursting.

As the Callaghans eagerly embraced the belief that one could feel and praise God anywhere, they rarely graced St. Augustine, and as Clarence was avoiding any public appearances at present, only Thomas and his family sat at Angelica’s side as the vicar railed against the lusts of the flesh and the wretched fate that awaited fornicators and adulterers.

Angelica’s eyes bored into Mr. Peck’s, hands clenched in her lap, and she forced herself to breathe. To return his poison with her own would do no good. Sin was sin, and whether it was Guinevere betraying her marriage vows, Mr. Peck belittling lost souls, or Angelica harboring anger for the vicar’s shortcomings, the result was the same.

Besides, this was to be expected.

Though Angelica couldn’t understand it, experience had taught her that human nature fell into two categories: those who justified and those who condemned. The former cared more about making themselves and others happy, casting aside their beliefs to legitimize their actions and those of the people they loved. The latter reached beyond merely identifying right from wrong behavior to judge and cast out the very lost souls who required love the most (whilst overlooking the sins that resided in their own souls).

Angelica straightened as she contemplated that dichotomy, which was exemplified in her family and Mr. Peck. How many times had Mama and Papa taught them that love conquered all? That love was eternal? That love would never die? Yet when Guinevere’s heart abandoned one love for another, they were quick to accept her choice and support it, as though her love for her children and husband was a minor thing that could be brushed aside.

“‘And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell,” said Mr. Peck, casting a stern look at the congregation. “Lasciviousness is like an infection that spreads throughout our community. It springs from lax morals and lackadaisical adherence to the teachings of the church, and if we do not make our homes a haven from sin, then our children will be tainted and spread that evil to others until the whole of us is ruined.”

Heart dropping, Angelica held onto her calm expression, refusing to give the gentleman the slightest satisfaction at seeing her squirm.

“Evil like that is not isolated, and we must be wary of any who allow such perniciousness within their home and those who support the sinners,” he continued.

Thomas’s hand settled atop hers, and whether or not Mr. Peck could see it, Angelica didn’t care. She accepted the touch, clinging to him as her heart was swallowed up in the wickedness spewing from the pulpit. This scandal would’ve tainted them regardless, but Mr. Peck had effectively poured pitch upon a bonfire.

Forcing herself to breathe, she focused her thoughts inward, blocking the wicked words and petitioning a higher power for guidance and understanding of her own. Though unsteady at times, her faith was not so fragile a thing that it would allow poor examples of Christian behavior to turn her away.

When Mr. Peck dropped all subtlety and drifted from any actual doctrine to teach about the taint of bloodlines, Angelica merely thanked heaven that Clarence had decided to remain home. No amount of wickedness on their parents’ part would ever convince Angelica that those dear little ones were inherently evil, any more than the decisions of her family meant her soul was blackened by association.

With the final prayers and blessings granted (which aligned with Mr. Peck’s theme), Angelica rose from her feet. She didn’t bother looking at anyone. There wasn’t any use, for she felt their eyes on her. The whispers were subtle but impossible not to grasp when everyone was saying the same things. Thomas took Biddie from his wife, and Charity slipped her arm through Angelica’s as the Callaghans strode down the aisle with all the regality of a courtly procession.

“…helped Mrs. Cogswell to leave…”

“…convinced her to do it, from what I heard…”

Charity gripped Angelica’s arm tighter as they moved slowly but with purpose toward the exit. No matter how much her feet wanted to hurry, she refused to give the backbiters that pleasure.

Angelica’s stomach dropped to her toes, though she feigned deafness. Guinevere hadn’t meant to implicate her. Or so she hoped. Surely her sister hadn’t mentioned her in the farewell note to connect Angelica to this mess more than she already was. Regardless, her being named in Guinevere’s letter indelibly linked Angelica to the scandal, branding them both as fallen women in the eyes of the gossipers.

Drawing in a breath, she calmed her racing pulse. Anger would not change a thing, for whether she convinced them or not, Angelica Callaghan was tainted. Her good name was ruined. The rest of the family wouldn’t care one jot about their reputations, though Helen and Ophelia may discover reasons to bemoan the loss when it came time to settle down; granted, Angelica wasn’t certain either girl would choose that path when their parents seemed pleased for Guinevere to carry on as she was.

Stepping through the open doors, Angelica and Charity released one another to pull their cloaks more firmly about them, and the latter turned to Thomas, checking that Biddie was bundled up tight.

“I think Aunt Angelica might need some sweetness,” said Thomas, glancing at his daughter.

Clapping her hands, the little dear surged forward and threw herself into Angelica’s arms, placing a resounding (and rather wet) kiss on her cheek.

“Happy Christmas,” cried Biddie with a beaming smile.

“Happy Christmas, darling,” whispered Angelica in return, leaning in to kiss the hollow of her neck, which made Biddie squeal and squirm free of her aunt’s hold. Moving as quickly as her little legs could go, she toddled down the path to the street, setting her parents on a merry chase as Angelica followed after.

Though the darkness of the church still clung to her, Angelica’s heart lightened. Something good had come of this Christmas after all—

A carriage rolled up beside her, skidding a little on the ice before stopping several lengths ahead of her. Mr. Knight popped open the door and hopped out whilst his parents peered from inside, hurrying toward her, but Angelica’s feet were rooted to the spot as her stomach sank to her toes.

*

There! Julian felt like leaping from the carriage, his feet carrying him out before it stopped completely, and his shoes slipped on the icy ground, though he managed to remain upright. But seeing Miss Callaghan on the street made his heart skip, tossing aside the bit of good sense he possessed. She stood there on the road watching him as he jogged the distance to her, giving her brother and his wife a tip of the hat as he passed.

“Saints above, I was afraid I might not see you,” he said, sliding to a halt before her. “I was able to abscond with the Wallises’ carriage after their service, but I was afraid we would miss you, and with how things ended between me and your father, I haven’t felt comfortable paying a call on your house. Especially with…”

Julian felt like kicking himself. He didn’t need to bring up any of that at present, and there were far pleasanter things to say. In her Sunday finest, Miss Callaghan looked a picture in the snow, her blue eyes sparkling in the late morning light.

But Miss Callaghan waved away his stumbling excuses. “Think nothing of it. I haven’t had any time to spare, and it is best if you keep your distance.”

With a cock of his head, Julian frowned.

“I will not pretend your sister’s scandal is minor and easily ignored or overlooked, but if you think I would allow it to sever our…” He didn’t know how to end that sentence. Though they’d made progress on an official designation the other day, nothing had been settled, and whilst Julian felt the term courtship was a little presumptuous, friendship was a far cry from the truth.

Changing course, he leaned closer and said, “I promise my feelings haven’t changed. I know we left things a touch…unclear the other day, but I am still firm in my resolve. I can be patient if you require time—”

Miss Callaghan held up a staying hand and stepped back, setting him at a distance. “Please, Mr. Knight. I appreciate your loyalty and determination, but this scandal is going to taint anyone associated with my family and, most especially, me. Everyone believes I had a hand in Guinevere’s liaison, and with my parents staunchly supporting her decision, the Callaghan name is poison.”

Giving her a half-smile, he shook his head. “Do you think I am such a fickle beau, Miss Callaghan? You have rejected me not once, but thrice—though I don’t know if I could consider this yet another dismissal or merely a wavering—and if I were to include all the times I wanted to press the issue but didn’t because I knew you would reject it, then the number would be far higher.”

Julian straightened with that impish grin that usually brought a sparkle to her eye. “If my stubbornness hasn’t learned from all those times, why do you think a few silly gossipmongers would frighten me away?”

“But what of your parents? Your brothers?” she asked. “Your family would be ruined by association, and I will not allow that to happen, Mr. Knight.”

“We can weather it,” he said, reaching for her hand, but she pulled away.

“Love cannot be selfish,” she said with a shake of her head. Miss Callaghan’s brows tightened, her muscles stiffening as she backed away from him. “My parents started their marriage with an elopement, not caring that their families were made to pay for the scandal. Guinevere sought her own pleasure, regardless of how others would suffer. I cannot follow their examples.”

“It isn’t the same, Miss Callaghan—”

“Everyone believes themselves the exception to the rule. That their situation is unique from all the others. But I do not see how you courting a lady who is suspected of having…” Miss Callaghan’s voice broke, and she drew in a sharp breath through her nose as she looked away.

It was a long moment before she spoke, and when she did, her voice was quiet though no less firm. “There are rumors about me and the gentlemen my father invited into our home. So far, there is no mention of your name, but with my family’s overt disdain for the rules of propriety, you can imagine how the parade of gentlemen through Stoneleigh Cottage has raised questions, which are growing more pointed by the day. At best, they believe I aided my sister, and at worst, they think I am a harlot, Mr. Knight.”

Stilling, Julian stared at the lady before him. The light in her eyes faded, and he stood there, his heart collapsing in on itself as he realized the truth of their situation. To give in to the scandal would lose him Miss Callaghan, yet to press the issue would lump him in with all the selfish people in her life who chose their pleasure above their honor and responsibilities.

There was no winning.

“I do think we can be happy together, Miss Callaghan,” he murmured, drawing near once more. “The more I come to know you, the more I admire your strength of character, your intelligence, and your wit. You have helped me to become someone better, as well, and that is a rare quality—”

“No doubt there are plenty of ladies in Newcastle who will suit you quite well,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I am not that special, Mr. Knight.”

“Yes, you are.” The words sprang forth without thought but bore all the certainty Julian felt, and the more he considered her, the more right it felt.

Of its own accord, his hand inched forward, brushing against hers. Though layers of leather kept Julian from truly touching, he well remembered the feel of her skin, and it sent a shiver down his spine as he stared into her eyes, pleading with all his heart for her to relent. At this distance, she couldn’t hide the tremor in her lips, which drew his attention there.

So close.

“I cannot do it to you and your family, Julian,” she whispered, her breath tickling his cheek.

Though he didn’t dare voice the question, it pushed against him, demanding an answer yet dreading what he knew was coming.

“Then this is farewell?” That he managed to speak without breaking was a little miracle. Doubly so when Miss Callaghan gave him a shallow nod.

“It has to be, Mr. Knight.”

The finality in that statement rang out like a death knell, striking to the very core of him. What was one to do at this point? Shake hands as though parting as friends? That was no fitting end. Yet there was nothing more concrete binding them together. His gaze flicked to her lips, and his heart pressed against his ribs, longing to know—just once if nothing else—what they felt like. To mark this passing with something more than a few words.

If only his heart were at risk, Julian would gladly accept the torture of their first and last embrace.

Yet love couldn’t be selfish. He refused to allow what was already a bitter moment to be tainted further and to do more damage to this incredible lady by kissing her in public and giving credence to the wicked rumors circulating about her. Human beings were often selfish creatures, but Julian knew he was stronger than his desires: Miss Callaghan had shown him that.

*

Angelica didn’t dare breathe. Her head spun as Mr. Knight stood so close that she felt his warmth through the bite of the wintry air, the scent of cinnamon from his cologne making him a morsel she longed to taste. A battle waged in his eyes, too, and though Angelica thought herself strong, it was Mr. Knight who leaned back, setting a respectful distance between them.

Half-turned away, he cleared his throat, his gaze falling to the ground as he tucked his hands behind him.

“Miss Callaghan, it has been…” He cleared his throat again. “It has been an honor to know you.”

“I assure you, the honor is all mine.” Trite though the words seemed, Angelica felt them to her core, and she infused that certainty into her tone.

He glanced toward the waiting carriage but remained fixed on the road before her. “And what shall you do for a correspondent?”

Angelica almost smiled at that question and the memory that had inspired him to ask. “I used my woodland box for many years, Mr. Knight. I assure you I will survive on my own.”

“Yes, but will you be happy?” The question was quiet, but Mr. Knight didn’t falter as he watched her with brows pulled tight together.

Turning away, Angelica reached for the reticule hanging from her wrist and dumped the coins onto her palm. She selected several and replaced the others, then stepped within reaching distance of Mr. Knight, placing them into his hand.

“These aren’t the original ones, of course, for they were spent—as you well know,” she said, attempting a light tone and a wry smile, but it was too tinged with sadness to be believed. “But it is only right that you are repaid what you are owed, sir .”

Angelica attempted to adopt the tone she’d used all those weeks ago, but the heaviness in her heart stole away the lightness behind the jest. Giving him a final bob, she hurried down the street. Thomas and Charity stood just beyond the carriage, watching her with worried expressions as Biddie roamed around them, and Angelica raised her hand with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, though her brother’s lips pulled into a frown.

The window in the carriage was open, and Angelica spied Mr. Knight’s parents inside; though she yearned to speed past, she knew she could not allow the opportunity to pass when there were important things to be said. Glancing back, she spied Mr. Knight still standing where she’d left him, staring at the coins in his palm, and she drew in a deep breath and faced his parents through the opening.

“I am sorry for what has happened,” said Angelica. Mrs. Knight’s brows rose as both she and her husband silently stared at her, and Angelica hurried to speak her piece. “I pray with all my heart that you are not touched by this scandal. I give you my word that I had no hand in my sister’s actions, and the rumors about my decorum are entirely fabricated.”

Lifting her chin, she drew in another steeling breath and forced herself to hold their gaze. “Please do not think poorly of me, and if I have done anything to offend you, I hope you will forgive me.”

Angelica cast another look at Mr. Knight, his attention now turned to her as she stood at the carriage side. Her eyes remained fixed on him, though she spoke to his parents.

“I promise I will do nothing to taint your family’s good name,” she said. The words rang out like one of the knightly vows in the epic poems and stories her family adored, and when Angelica gave one final glance at the pair inside the carriage, their matching looks of surprise stared back at her.

And with that, Angelica hurried away.