The Lady Who Broke the Rules (22 page)

By the warehouses and offices which lined the docks, the air was thick with the scent of spices, sugar and, above all, tobacco. That sweet, almost rotten smell made Virgil stop in his tracks, oblivious of the bustle around him, of clerks with their tied documents, of ships’ crews in search of their next voyage, of the warehousemen who lurked in the alleyways taking a sly break, and through it all the merchants who strutted and preened. Eleven years ago, the tobacco which had been packed by the strike breakers would have come here. Twelve years ago, thirteen, fourteen, more, the hogsheads he had packed himself would have been sold on at this exchange, too, more than likely. Now he was probably richer than any of these merchants. If he wanted to, he could outbid them all for tobacco, sugar, molasses, silks. The knowledge gave him no pleasure.
How many schools and libraries and houses would be enough?
Kate’s question haunted him. It would never be enough. Never. Because his crime was so great? Or because he was looking at it all the wrong way?

He stopped abruptly in front of the Trade’s House. It looked uncannily familiar. He could not imagine why at first, and then he saw it. The carved pediment above the pillared entrance, the pleasing symmetry of the building. It reminded him of Castonbury.

Kate.

Kate had said he had to forgive himself. Kate had said that this locket he carried was someone else’s past. Kate had said he would never be free. He missed her. God, he missed her. That last day, when he’d told her to be happy, he hadn’t meant it. He
did
want her to be happy, but not with another man. Not with any man. Except him.

But that was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

The graveyard was north of the river, just a few hundred yards from the Trade’s House. It was raining as he entered it, a long narrow space enclosed by warehouses on three sides. Gloomy. Ominous. It did not feel particularly peaceful. He would not like this to be his last resting place.

Reading the stones, he could see how the place got its name. Tobacco, sugar, cloth—the remains of any number of merchants lay here with their families, touting their wealth in the huge slabs of stone which covered their crypts. Several of the tombs were large enough to be enclosed by wrought iron fencing. The Gordon tomb was one such. Virgil turned the heavy latch, relieved to find it was not locked.

Tragic, Kate had called Malcolm Jackson’s story. If Louisa Gordon had married her lover and gone to the New World, she would not now be lying beneath this cold, damp sod. A month’s happiness, a year’s, or many more, she would have had with her husband. Had Kate been Louisa, she would not have stayed behind alone. If Kate had been Millie, she would not have killed herself.

Virgil sank down onto the gravestone and opened the locket. Kate would not have given up as Millie had. Kate would have known without him having to tell her that he would come back for her, because Kate understood him. No one had ever understood him as Kate had. Could he forgive himself?

If he did not, one thing was for sure; he would never be free of his chains. The past kept him bound and manacled. He could not undo it, he could repent it and he could try and make good, but how much good was enough? He could build schools and libraries and model villages even. He could give others the opportunity to free themselves, but still deny himself that chance. Kate was right. He was still in shackles.

Millie would not have wanted that. Would Millie have forgiven him? Freedom was about having choices. He’d made some poor choices, and he’d paid for them, but Millie had chosen too. She’d chosen death over hope. Kate said that Millie would have forgiven him. That hadn’t ever sat right with Virgil. Millie had made it impossible for Virgil to be forgiven. Wasn’t the point that
he
had to forgive
her
?

He tried to remember what it felt like to be with Millie—to laugh with her, to walk with her, to make love to her—but it was like someone else’s memories. Even the images from that fateful last day which had been so painfully fresh when he’d painted them for Kate seemed to be fading. Perhaps his confession had been cathartic, after all.

He’d been a boy when he’d fallen in love with Millie. Their passion had been joyful, but nowhere near as intense as what he’d felt making love to Kate. When Kate climaxed she looked right at him. When he was inside her, inside the intoxicating heat of her, he felt as if she was inside his head, as if she was communing with him. He hadn’t ever felt that with Millie.

Could he really forgive himself? And even if he could, and come to terms with what Millie had done, too, where did that leave him?

It left him without Kate.

Virgil took out his pocket knife and began to dig a hole. He dropped the locket into it, and said a last prayer for Malcolm Jackson and Louisa Gordon. Maybe in the next world he and his Louisa were together.

Virgil was in this world, and he had no desire to quit it yet. If he could forgive himself, he had a future, and he was damn sure he didn’t want to live it alone. Closing the gate of the crypt behind him, he made his way quickly back to the posting house. Eleven years of celibacy. It seemed so obvious now that it had been easy because he hadn’t met Kate. He did love her. He had no idea what she felt for him, but he did love her. He had done everything possible to kill any feelings for him she may have had, but that last day at the inn…

Could he hope? Dare he hope? He had been afraid to love her because he was terrified of losing her, but if he didn’t ask her, if he didn’t try, then he’d have lost her anyway. He missed her so much. Now that he had allowed himself to consider the possibility, he couldn’t bear to think of how empty his future would be without her. It was all very well to insulate yourself against hurt by denying yourself affection, but it was too late for that now. He had to see her. He could not wait to see her.

He ran the last half-mile to the posting house. ‘Change of plan,’ he said to the landlord. ‘I need to hire a post chaise and six. Now.’

* * *

Kate rose each morning with a list of tasks constructed overnight and went about them methodically, focusing on achieving something new every day. She made the days long. She worked hard. She did not cry, or lament, or allow herself to dwell on her hopeless love. Virgil was gone. There was nothing she could do about it, and all she could do to keep her heart intact was to be true to what she had promised him. It was not her way to try to change what she could not. She was a survivor, one who coped and continued regardless, and this was how she found the reserves to face each day. She loved him and would always love him, but there was nowhere for her love to live, and so she kept it hidden, tucked up inside her like a wingless bird. Helping others had always been her consolation. She would simply have to help them a lot more now.

This morning, the first task on her list was to see Alicia, and finally bring her up to date with the contents of Harry’s letter.

‘I have some news.’

They were sitting in the drawing room of the Dower House. The child, Crispin, played contentedly in the corner with a set of wooden blocks. Jamie’s wife looked well, dressed in a morning gown the same colour of blue as her eyes. Her fair hair was prettily dressed, tied in a top knot which fell in a cluster of curls around her neck. She did not wear a widow’s cap. Aunt Wilhelmina had been vocal upon this subject at dinner. Alicia looked much too young to be a widow. She was much too beautiful to hide her charms under a cap. Not that there was anyone in Castonbury to appreciate Alicia’s charms that Kate could think of.

Had Alicia loved Jamie? Loving Virgil as she did made Kate look at everyone differently. Now she knew the signs, it was obvious to her that Giles was deeply in love with Lily. Of Alicia’s feelings she was not at all certain. There were times when she seemed quite cold, indifferent almost, in the way she said Jamie’s name, as if he was not her husband but a stranger. Of course, she had Crispin to remind her of Jamie and so no real need to talk about him, Kate supposed. Polly said she’d never been in love and thank the Lord for having been spared. Despite everything, Kate was glad
she
had not been spared.

‘What news, Lady Kate?’

Alicia was looking at her expectantly, and Kate realised she had been daydreaming again. A new habit. ‘We have had a letter from my brother Harry. As you know, he’s in Spain.’

‘Trying to discover what happened to my husband.’

‘Jamie. Yes. Harry writes from Madrid, but he is on his way to Seville. There is a man there, Pablo Garrido, who was apparently in command of the unit to which Jamie was assigned. Harry’s letter says—Harry believes that this man Garrido may be able to put him in touch with the man who was actually with Jamie when he died.’

Alicia’s hands fluttered to her breast. ‘You mean Xavier Sanchez?’

‘I believe that was the name. You know this man?’

‘No, no. Only—I have heard his name. I— Jamie must have talked of him.’

‘Jamie discussed his mission with you?’

‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ Alicia leapt to her feet and picked her child up, folding him in a tight embrace, ignoring his protests. ‘I meant—I merely meant that when Jamie died, it was no secret that man Sanchez was with him.’

‘Of course, it’s only a slim chance, but if Harry can speak with Sanchez, perhaps then we can find out the details of how Jamie lost his life. And then there will be the proof of death that we need in order to sort out the estate.’ Kate smiled encouragingly. ‘It could even be that Jamie talked to Sanchez about you.’

‘About me?’ Alicia repeated, the colour draining from her face. ‘Why should he?’

‘Mama, Mama, you’re hurting.’

The child set up a wail. Alicia got to her feet, kissing the boy’s golden head. ‘It is time for his nap,’ she said to Kate.

There was no mistaking the dismissal in her voice. ‘I’m sorry to throw this at you so suddenly, only Giles and I felt that you should know. We have not told anyone else. You understand, Alicia, my father knows nothing of it.’

‘You need not worry, I won’t say anything to the duke. Jamie is dead. What do the details matter?’ Alicia said flatly. ‘Excuse me, Lady Kate. I must see to my son.’

Walking back to the big house, Kate felt rebuffed. Recounting the meeting to Giles, who had been waiting for her by the bridge, her natural sense of justice restored her. ‘It was a shock,’ she told her brother, ‘that much was obvious. She must have cared a great deal for him. It’s just too painful for her to hear the details.’

‘Well, you told her. She can’t accuse us of not keeping her informed,’ Giles said. ‘Kate…’

‘What is it?’

‘Kate, Virgil Jackson is here.’

‘What?’

‘He arrived half an hour ago.’

‘Is there something wrong? Has he been hurt? Why didn’t you tell me? Where is he?’

‘Why the devil should you think he was hurt? He looked perfectly healthy to me. He’s in my study. I thought it best—no one knows save Lumsden that he’s here. Kate…’

‘What is it, Giles?’ Kate was almost dancing in exasperation. Virgil was here.
‘What?’

‘Devil take you, Kate, you know damn well what! I can’t stop you. If you love him—Lily says you do, and she’s—well, God help you.’

Under any other circumstances, Kate would have found this disjointed speech utterly fascinating. She didn’t think she’d ever seen her brother beyond words, but right now she didn’t give a damn. Picking up her skirts, she ran across the lawn at full tilt and did not stop until she burst into Giles’s study, when the sight of Virgil standing there made her heart flip.

‘Kate!’

‘Virgil!’

‘You look tired.’

‘It’s been a long journey.’

Kate closed the door and leaned against it. She was out of breath. Her hair was falling down. She was shaking. ‘How did you get here?’

‘Post chaise. I hired a carriage. Four horses. I asked for six but they said not even royalty could harness six horses to a hired chaise.’

He looked quite dishevelled. His neck cloth looked as if it had been tied without the aid of a mirror. His boots were splashed with mud. He looked anxious. Nervous. Worried. She had missed him so much. Giles seemed to think—but she would not let herself hope. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I had a speech,’ Virgil said. Kate hadn’t moved from the door. She looked wary. He didn’t like that look. ‘I had a speech,’ he said again. He couldn’t remember a word of it. He crossed the room to stand beside her. There was only one bit of what he wanted to say that mattered right now. ‘I love you, Kate.’

‘How do you know?’

That made him laugh. He should have known her reaction wouldn’t be what he expected. ‘What you said, about never being free. When I was burying the locket, I realised you were right. Millie had a choice too. I made it difficult for her to live, but I didn’t make it impossible. Once I saw that, I saw lots of other things too.’

‘Such as?’

‘I was afraid to care. I thought that love and loss went hand in hand. I didn’t want to love you because I couldn’t bear the idea of losing you, but then I realised that never having tried, regretting not trying, would be so much worse.’

‘Like Louisa Gordon and Malcolm Jackson,’ Kate said.

Virgil took her hands in his. ‘Exactly. And more. I couldn’t understand why you were so impossible to resist. I see now that it was you. It could only ever have been you. I love you, Kate. I don’t know what you feel, but I’m asking you to give me a chance. It won’t be easy. Your father will disown you. Even in Boston, a marriage like ours would be—there will be many people who will never accept us into their world. But if you love me, we could make our own world, Kate.’

A single tear escaped her and rolled down her cheek. He still hadn’t touched her. He was afraid to touch her. He was terrified he had left it too late. ‘Don’t cry, Kate.’

She sniffed. ‘I’m not.’ She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. ‘If that was your speech, it was the most beautiful one I’ve ever heard.’

It took a moment for her words to sink in. ‘I’m not too late?’

Kate shook her head.