Chapter Seven
NORA SAILED FOR ENGLAND a week after she arrived home from Texas. She was pleasant, even cheerful, but there was a leaden weight in her heart as she realized how foolish she had been. If there had been other men in her life, perhaps she would not have fallen so hopelessly in love with an unsuitable one. And now she had to wait to know if there would be consequences from her fall from grace. She had never felt so alone.
The passengers on the ship were friendly enough, but Nora kept to herself except when meals were served. She sat at the captain’s table and looked elegant and cool, while inside she tormented herself with memories of Cal Barton’s arms. These polished, elegant gentlemen would never think of allowing themselves to become filthy or smell. They were monied, sophisticated. But she remembered, so well, the way Cal had looked with a tiny, lost calf in his arms. There had been a strange tenderness in his pale eyes that lingered, once, when he looked at her. She remembered it without wanting to, because it had been at variance with the betrayal that came later.
Her upbringing had made him like an alien to her. As a small child, she was not allowed to play with children who were not in her social set. She had started out to be a tomboy, much to her parents’ dismay, but a strict governess had taken the spontaneity and impulsiveness right out of her. She had learned to be ladylike and correct, with exquisite manners. The alternative was a stick wielded by her father against her legs. Even through her thick skirts, it was painful. A child must learn discipline, he informed her many times, or it would grow up to be idle and without morals. She often wished that there were a gentler way of ensuring such traits. She seemed never to please her father at all, and her poor legs were constantly bruised in her youth.
Nor had her mother protested these discipline sessions. In such a way she had herself been taught to mind. Nora secretly thought that if she ever bore a child of her own, she would never allow it to be treated in such a manner, regardless of the consequences to herself. Unlike her mother, she would not be cowed by her husband.
Life was so riddled with rules and codes of behavior. She wondered how it would be to wear jeans like a man and ride astride a horse, or to be allowed to socialize with anyone she pleased. In her childhood she had envied the small poor children who played with mud pies and rolled, laughing, through tall grass in pursuit of one another and the ever-present dogs and cats of the poor sections. Nora had never been allowed a pet. Animals were nasty, her father informed her. And of course, a lady never allowed her clothing to be soiled.
SHE KEPT TO HERSELF until the ship docked in London, and a carriage took her straight to the Randolph estate outside the city. It was October now, and the trip over had been bitterly cold. She wrapped herself warmly in her fur coat, with the bear robe looped over her legs to keep the cold from them. Her hand touched the long, thick, black fur tenderly, and she felt a twinge of pity for the poor creature whose hide it had been in life. All the same, it was pleasant against the chill.
She still had no idea if her body was fertile now. She had never been regular in her monthlies, and she was probably less so now, with the excitement. She missed Cal so much that she felt torn in two.
The Randolph estate was crowned by a seventeenth-century country house that had often hosted royalty. It was cold as sin, but it had an atmosphere of warmth that made Nora feel right at home. Her elderly cousins Lady Edna and Sir Torrance made her welcome from the first. They were minor royalty, for he was a baronet—a title with which he had been presented by Her Majesty Queen Victoria for military service, not an inherited title—but the elderly couple were less stringent about titles and protocol than many others of their stature. They had no children of their own and adored young company, especially Nora. Nora thought it was providential that they had asked her to visit just now, when she so desperately needed pampering. Her mother was kind and sweet, but her father was a businessman who had little time for paternal duties. She had never once dared think about telling her plight to her parents, for fear of being disowned. Her father would never countenance what she had done, or forgive her for it. His opinion of “loose women” was legendary in the family. And while her mother might have been sympathetic, she would never have stood up to the head of the household.
The one kindness in Nora’s tumultuous life was that she had not been revisited by the fever.
“I think your doctor is wrong,” Edna said firmly while they were sitting in the parlor late at night. “To tell you the fever is fatal! Indeed! I have known two women who contracted it in Africa, and both lived to ripe old ages and had large families.”
“Our physician is very knowledgeable,” Nora said sadly. “He has never been wrong before.”
“And what does a Virginia physician know of tropical diseases?” Edna harrumphed. “The very idea. A colonial doctor.”
“Dear, the colonies are now called America,” her husband chided gently.
“The colonies,” she repeated firmly, “need better physicians. I shall have our own dear physician examine you, my dear.”
“No!” Nora sat back and forced herself to appear calm. “I mean, I do not need examination. I feel fine.” She could not allow a doctor to examine her, when she had no idea if she was with child. Perhaps a physician might have ways of discovering it even this soon after conception. She knew nothing of medicine.
“As you wish, dear,” Edna said gently. “But it is worth thinking about.”
“And I shall, I promise you,” she vowed.
THE GLITTER of the English court was unlike anything Nora had ever seen. She could still hardly believe that she was to be presented to the queen herself. For days now she had been carefully coached in what to say, how to behave, how to curtsy. There was a rigid protocol that one must follow, and she paid strict attention to her schooling. Her one worry was her sudden tendency to become light-headed. Heaven forbid that she should faint at the monarch’s feet!
About Queen Victoria, she had been singularly ignorant, despite her royal cousins. She knew that the monarch had nine children, that she was widowed the year the American Civil War began. She knew that Prince Albert Edward was the oldest of Victoria’s children. She knew that Victoria had celebrated her Diamond Jubilee in 1897, and that she was depressed over the Boer War in South Africa and the Boxer Rebellion in China. It was a sad time to come to England, in many ways, and despite the excitement of her day in the palace, a part of Nora was grieving over her betrayal by Cal.
Since the presentation was in the afternoon, Nora wore her best suit, a black silk one with a lacy white blouse and spotless white kid gloves. She wore a pert little hat with a veil, and her mother’s diamonds at her throat and wrist. She felt elegant enough in her finery, but her first glimpse of the aged queen set her heart racing and stopped her breath in her throat.
Victoria was eighty-one years old, but she had the unmistakable proud carriage of her position and a mystique befitting a woman who had governed England for over sixty years. She was beloved by her people and respected the world over. Even Parliament deferred to her. But she looked unwell, Nora thought sadly. Poor thing, to have lived so long without the man she loved most in the world. She felt a strange kinship with her, because she was torn apart at the idea of never seeing Cal Barton again.
Her knees shook as she was presented to Victoria, who nodded and smiled pleasantly. She managed the curtsy without falling, although she was less calm than she appeared. A greeting, a quick retreat, and it was over. A moment to last a lifetime, and there were many others on the list who would cherish their few minutes at court forever.
“Well, my dear?” Edna chuckled when they were having tea in a small café a few blocks from Windsor Castle. “How do you feel?”
“Oh, I shall never wash my glove or change my clothes,” Nora murmured dryly. “Otherwise, I shall be quite normal.”
Edna and her husband laughed delightedly and offered her another tea cake.
THE DAYS PASSED LAZILY. Nora began to recover somewhat from the journey and the grief that had preceded it. But she made no pretense at wanting adventure. She was quite content to let the servants bring her tea and cakes and magazines, and to sit in the quiet garden without being disturbed. Edna and Torrance were supportive without being intrusive, as if they knew she had been through some sad experience and wanted only to comfort her.
But at night she relived over and over again that afternoon in Cal Barton’s arms in the old cabin. She felt his mouth, heard the tortured whip of his breath at her ear, experienced all over again the feverish ecstasy of becoming a woman in every sense of the word. It was a shameful secret. Not only had she sacrificed her virtue, she had committed the cardinal sin of enjoying it. When she went to church, she kept her veil in place and winced at the sermon. She had sinned quite terribly. Perhaps she would go to hell for it. But she had loved Cal, would always love him. Did that not balance the scales, even a little? And it was not as if she alone were guilty. He had seduced her. She had been innocent, but not he. Surely he had known exactly what he was doing, had, in fact, seduced her deliberately to show her what easy game she was. That was the most shaming part of it; that she had loved, and he had only used her to satisfy a disgusting appetite of the flesh. He had not loved her. And worse, she had not cared. She had only wanted to please him, while he plotted her downfall. She felt unclean.
There was another worry, a secret one. She was late for her monthly; later than ever. And she began to lose her appetite for breakfast. She had always looked forward to the first meal of the day, enjoying her toast and jam and scrambled eggs. But just lately eggs made her sick to her stomach. The terror of pregnancy made her go cold all over with fear. Where would she go? What would she do? Her parents would disown her.
Cal had instructed her to tell him if there were consequences, but she had too much pride. No, there must be some other way…. And then she remembered the terrible fever that might recur and became more worried. Could it hurt the baby? She put her hands protectively over her stomach. Already she thought of it as a living, breathing little human being, even though she had no proof of its existence except suspicions. She lay back, shivering with reaction. She had no idea what she would do. She only knew that she must begin making decisions.
A LETTER CAME FROM HER MOTHER late the next week, reminding her that she must come home in time for Thanksgiving. She also remarked that Edward Summerville had come by the house and asked after her. He was on his way to England, and when he tricked her angry mother into telling him where she was, he said that he planned to stop at the Randolph estate and visit her. Her mother was not pleased about this, and neither was her father, but there was little they could do to stop the man. Edward Summerville was the last person in the world whom Nora wanted to see!
As it happened, he arrived that very afternoon, having come over in the same ship with the mail from America. He was greeted warmly by the Randolphs, who made a big fuss over him, while Nora gave him a cold and unpleasant stare.
He flushed as he met her accusing look. He was almost too handsome; blond and blue-eyed, tall and majestic. He even had an impeccable accent. Women loved him. Most women. Nora found him repulsive.
“I hope that you are well, Nora,” he said, reaching for her hand.
She withdrew it before he could touch it. “I was healthier before I went to Africa, Edward,” she said pointedly.
He let out a long breath. He looked weary. “Yes,” he said. “To my shame, I know it. I have had long months to think about my behavior. I regret so much, Nora. I actually came to apologize. Imagine that,” he laughed cynically.
She clasped her hands tightly at her waist. “Now that you’ve done so, I hope not to have to see you again.”
He grimaced and shot a glance at the elderly couple sitting by the fireplace, trying not to eavesdrop. “You will break their hearts,” he said under his breath. “They sense a romance.”
“That would require some imagination,” she said pleasantly.
“Ouch!”
“I have no feeling for you, save one of distaste,” she said bluntly. “I have been ill most of the year until the summer with fever. I blame you.”
“I blame myself,” he said fervently. “Your mother told me of your sufferings. I am a cad, Eleanor. But I never knew it, not really, until Kenya.” He leaned on the fashionable cane in his right hand, with its big silver wolf’s head. “I hope to change your bad memories of me.”
“That will take some effort,” she said stiffly.
“I realize it. I have been invited to stay,” he added, smiling.
“Then I shall leave.”
“No.” He stood erect. “Please. At least give me the opportunity to make amends, Eleanor. I promise you that I will do nothing to offend you, nothing at all. I want only the pleasure of your company, when you feel inclined.”
She hesitated. He didn’t look threatening anymore. In fact, he honestly looked repentant. She was lonely. It was probably a stupid thing to do, but after a minute, she nodded reluctantly, and he relaxed. He would keep her mind off Cal, perhaps, if she could forget the horrors she had suffered since Kenya. She was not hard-hearted enough to refuse him forgiveness, when he seemed genuinely sorry about his behavior. They said people could change. Time would tell.
BACK IN BEAUMONT, a weary Cal Barton was watching the drill work on the second tract he and his new partner had purchased. Pike was a thin, dark man, a little older than Cal, who’d spent his life looking for a big oil strike. Cal had needed someone to stay at the rig and supervise the men while he worked on the Tremayne ranch and gently guided Chester toward more modern methods of beef production. His heart hadn’t been in it since Eleanor left, but he went through the motions. The thing was, he couldn’t be in two places at once, and Chester was digging in his heels over that new cultivator.
“She’ll be dry,” Pike said curtly when they hit water.
“You can’t know that. We haven’t gone deep enough,” Cal argued.
“I know.” Pike wiped his face with a dirty sleeve, and his dark eyes met the other man’s light ones. “This is familiar territory to me. Water, then nothing. If there was oil, we’d have seen some sign by now.”
“Go deeper,” Cal snapped. “The geologist I contacted thinks this is an ideal place to drill.”
“Geologists don’t know everything.”
“Neither do water witches,” Cal mused, tongue in cheek.
“No? The water witch said we’d hit water here, and we did,” Pike reminded him. “Had a divining rod and everything. Willow stick went crazy and jerked him slam into the ground right there where the rig is. I told you we’d hit water.”
“We’ll hit oil eventually. There have been other strikes in Texas.”
“But not here.”
“There will be,” Cal said flatly.
Pike shrugged his thin shoulders. “We’ll keep going down. What happens when you run out of money?”
“We start on your poke.” Cal grinned.
Pike gave him a narrow-eyed stare and went back to work.
Cal boarded the next train north to Tyler Junction. He wondered as he rode along how Eleanor was, if she thought about him, if she hated him. Most of all, he worried about her condition. If there was a child, he couldn’t leave her to face the disgrace all alone. He had to do something. But what?
He didn’t expect her to write him, and she didn’t. But she wrote to her people. He waylaid Melly at the back porch a few days later and asked pointedly if she’d heard from Nora.
“Yes,” Melly said hesitantly, cool because she knew he’d hurt her cousin. “She’s staying in England with some cousins.”
He swept off his hat and ran a hand through his thick, sweaty dark hair. His piercing silver eyes met hers. “Is she all right?”
Melly thought he meant the fever, and guessed that she’d told him about her mishap in Africa. “Yes, she’s fine,” she said. “She has had no relapses.”
Cal found the wording odd, but he didn’t remark on it. “Is she planning a long stay?”
“She didn’t say, but my aunt Cynthia wrote us, very worried because that Edward Summerville man has followed her to England. He wants to marry her, he says.” She laughed coldly. “As if Nora would marry a man who…who…well, who was such a cad as to leave her in the lurch!”
Cal felt the blood drain out of his face. “What do you mean?”
She glowered up at him. “Surely Nora told you about it. He pursued her everywhere. He’s very wealthy and he loves her, or says he does. I suppose it’s decent of him to finally offer her marriage, but I don’t think that justifies the shame he caused her—”
“Melly! Dear, please hurry, the food is getting cold!”
“Coming, Mama!” She threw Cal an apologetic glance and went quickly inside.
Cal stood on the porch with raging emotions tearing at him. Melly had implied that this man Summerville had been intimate with Nora. Had he? He remembered her trembling uncertainty in his arms, her shocked cries of pleasure. But could not that have been faked? She had accepted his body easily enough, and she had gotten pleasure from it. Had he been mistaken about her innocence after all? He assumed that there had been no man, but should a virgin have enjoyed her initiation so much? She had admitted that it stung, just at first, but she could have been lying.
Yes. She must have been lying, he thought furiously. He had whipped his conscience over what he considered his reprehensible behavior, because he had played her for a fool. But it seemed she had played him for a bigger one. She had come west to escape an amorous suitor who had already enjoyed her innocence, and she had found another man. Perhaps she had been trying to find a husband, in case something came of her indiscretion. Was that why she had yielded to him?
But now Summerville had come to heel, which might be another motive for her trip out West. Probably she and her suitor were even now sipping tea in some majestic British country mansion and laughing at his naïveté. Cal could have kicked himself! How could he have been so stupid!
Well, he thought angrily as he slammed his hat on his head and went back to his chores, he knew better now. He knew exactly what she was. And if there was a child, she had no need to come to him with pleas for marriage. He would send her smartly right back to Summerville, the father of any child she might conceive!
THE SECOND WEEK of her stay in London passed, with Edward Summerville attentive and kind. Nora didn’t completely trust him, even so, and she liked him even less when he began to speak of other women who came and went in his life. He had a cavalier attitude about her gender which Nora found distasteful. It seemed to be her fate to become involved with men whose presence cheapened her.
The queasiness at breakfast had not left her. She had no idea how a woman knew if she had conceived. She had heard her married friends talk, but only in whispers and not specifically about their health concerns. Now Nora wished she had listened more carefully. She wanted to consult a physician, but that would be easier said than done. And it could cause scandal, especially here, where her royal cousins lived. Perhaps, if she went home, she could go to New York or some other large city and visit a physician to whom she was not known. That seemed dishonest, but it was the only way to spare her family a scandal.
She broke the news to her cousins and Summerville that very night that she was going to book passage on the next ship home.
“Dear, do stay a little longer,” Edna pleaded. “We do so enjoy having you with us.”
“Indeed we do,” Torrance seconded.
“I should love to, really I should,” Nora assured them, “but my mother wishes me to be home in time for Thanksgiving….”
“But that is two weeks away.” Edna moaned.
“And the ship could be delayed…anything could happen,” Nora pointed out. “Besides, I will have to help Mother prepare for the family party she always hostesses. Couldn’t you go back with me?” she asked.
They shook their heads, because they, too, had engagements to fulfill. But Summerville smiled as he informed Nora that he would accompany her to the States, and hope for an invitation to the Thanksgiving party. Hope would not be enough, Nora knew. Her mother and father did not like Summerville at all, and she still had doubts about him. Somewhere in her mind, she wondered why he had bothered to follow her to London and stay for two weeks. True to his word, he had not annoyed her or attempted to handle her in any way. However, there had been a watchful look about him.
“Something is troubling you, my dear, is it not?” Lady Edna asked her while she was packing that night.
She nodded, pausing in the folding of a gown. “It is Edward. I do not trust him.”
Edna sighed. “I must admit, this sudden visit of his is disturbing, when he hardly ever stops to see us.” She lifted her eyes to Nora’s. “You know that his family has suffered a decline in fortune?”
Nora’s eyebrows lifted. “Ah. I begin to see the light.”
Edna grimaced. “Forgive me. I am fond of him, but he is not the sort of husband you need. He likes the women too much.”
“I know.”
“And a woman should not be married just for her fortune,” Edna added indignantly. “I had no idea why he was here until I spoke to Lady Winter at the tea party this afternoon. She asked if Summerville was truly in residence here, and I admitted that he was. Then she laughed and said that he had courted most of the eligible women in our circle without success and was contemplating the loss of luxury with despair. Then Lady Sylvia announced that you were visiting, and everyone knew why Summerville was here.” She patted Nora’s hand sympathetically. “Forgive me. I would not have allowed him to presume on our hospitality if I had any idea of his motives!”
“I know that,” Nora said gently. She hugged the older woman affectionately. “Please, think nothing of it. I know Edward very well, unfortunately. It was he who caused me to get the fever, you know. He tore my dress in amorous pursuit, and the mosquitoes got to my skin. John and Claude thrashed him royally, and I had not heard from him for some time. I suppose he thought he might end up a happy widower if he could convince me to marry him,” she added bitterly.
“Nora, you will not die of the fever!” Edna said firmly. “Blackwater fever is not that difficult to diagnose, and you would be dead already if you had it. Certainly you would become ill very quickly and have no appetite and no energy.”
Nora felt herself go pale. Could she have been wrong? Could it be the fever, the killing fever, and not pregnancy at all that was causing her condition? She was horrified.
“Now, you must stop worrying,” Edna continued, oblivious to her cousin’s shocked expression as she began to help find clothes for the maid to fold and put in Nora’s cases. “I am certain that the Almighty has not cursed you in such a way. And as for Summerville, why, he is no more than a fly. I have no doubt that your father will settle his hash for him if he has the temerity to follow you home!”