Chapter Thirty-Seven
As dawn glimmered, gray and cold, Leticia picked her way through the rubble of what was once their charity school. Most of the outer brick walls remained standing, but all the rest of their dreams lay in charred timber and ash. She passed under what used to be the front door, stepping around holes in the wooden floor and heaps of rubble. At the smoldering remains of the pianoforte, she stopped. The wooden frame and keys had crumbled to little more than blackened dust. The metal harp inside remained like a skeletal reminder of slain hope.
Somehow, she would find a way either to rebuild the school, or start an orphanage, or…perhaps on a smaller scale, she might content herself with helping her sisters raise their children. She would make herself observe their happy marriages and children as a constant reminder of what she might once have had, and had thrown away. She would love her nieces and nephews with all of her heart.
For now, she’d allow herself this moment to mourn.
“Miss?” A child’s voice broke through her haze of grief.
“Please leave me,” Leticia said.
“We come to—came—to h-h-help, we did.” the child emphasized the h in her word as if trying to make it a part of her speech. “Don’t cry, Miss. We can rebuild, can’t we?”
Footsteps approached. “She’s right,” Mrs. Harper said.
Leticia raised her head. One of the students held a homemade broom. Next to her, Mrs. Harper and Peter stood, their expressions hopeful. Behind them, scattered on the steps and spilling out onto the street, all the students, as well as several adults, held brooms or shovels or rags and buckets. Among the adults, she recognized a baker’s assistant, several chimney sweeps, a blacksmith, and a fruit peddler.
Speechless, she stared at the army of support. She climbed to her feet. “Thank you all, but cleaning up is a small part of what we need. We’d have to rebuild, and replace all the books. We don’t have the money for that, nor could we purchase desks…”
“You don’t need desks to teach children, do you?” Tristan’s familiar voice sent warm ripples all over her.
She resisted the urge to run into his arms. His expression, though not hostile, was still guarded. “It’s only a building, Leticia.”
So handsome, so solemn, and even vulnerable, he met her gaze. Her heart broke all over again. He was here. Had he come as a friend, or was he still willing to make a future with her if she managed the right apology? She owed it to him to try. If he rejected her, she’d be no worse off.
Tristan took another step toward her. “All you need for a school is a teacher and students. All of this”—he gestured at the remains of the building—“is nice but not necessary.”
“I agree with Tristan.” Elizabeth pushed her way through the crowd with Richard helping clear a path for her. “We had grand hopes. One day, we can do all of that again, and more—have the charity boarding school as we dreamed. For now, we can concentrate teaching them their letters. I don’t think they’d mind sitting on the floor to learn, would you, girls?”
A chorus of “no, m’lady” came in response.
“I spoke to our solicitor this morning,” Elizabeth continued. “He ran the figures and said that we can rebuild the exterior of the structure and buy enough coal to get them through the winter. If we wish to add desks or anything else, we’d need to have another method of raising funds.”
“We are here to help.” Lady Petre called. “Excuse me.” She wormed her way through. “When I heard of the fire, I informed my husband I intend to help.”
Leticia gaped. “And he agreed to it?”
Lady Petre smiled. “I can be persuasive if I put my mind to it. He still disagrees with your venture, but allowed me to help as I wish.”
Elizabeth took Leticia’s hand. “Lord and Lady Tarrington donated a pianoforte.”
Leticia looked at each face, overwhelmed.
Tristan stood near enough to touch if she stretched out her hand. “You are doing a good thing here, Tish. Don’t throw it all away because of a setback.”
If Tristan, of all people, still believed in her, she didn’t dare quit now. She swallowed hard and blinked at tears stinging her eyes. She nodded. “You’re right. If we have enough to restore the building, we can make do and add the rest a little at a time. I would never wish to throw away all we’ve worked so hard to achieve.” She raised her voice. “Thank you all for coming. By all means, let’s get to work.”
All the volunteers got busy. Within a few hours, they’d made a noticeable improvement. By the time the adult helpers started leaving, making apologies that they needed to return to their places of business, the ground floor had been cleared of rubble. Much work remained to be done, but they had made progress.
“We’ve done all we can for now,” she said. “We’ll hire workers to finish the rest and to rebuild the main floor. Perhaps we should go home.”
“I believe you’re right,” Elizabeth said.
“I have a meeting this afternoon with my steward,” Richard added.
While Peter trotted off to find a hackney, Richard said, “The four of us can fit in our coach. Can we offer you both a ride?”
“Thank you.” Leticia glanced at Tristan. “You’re probably hungry. Would you care to come back with me and have luncheon?”
Again, that hesitance mingled with something else that she wanted to identify as longing but couldn’t hope for that much. He nodded. “I would like that.”
Dear Tristan! How badly she must have hurt him to put such hesitation in him. She wanted to throw her arms around him and hold him until his inner wounds healed. He might never forgive her enough to marry her now, but she couldn’t bear the thought of Tristan living with emotional injury.
Peter returned with a hackney and helped Mrs. Harper inside. When the earl’s crested carriage arrived, Richard handed in Elizabeth and took a seat next to his wife, leaving Tristan to hand in Leticia. He held out a hand, his gaze so shielded she couldn’t begin to guess his thoughts. She looked into his eyes, hoping her regret and deep sorrow were revealed. He gave no reaction. Placing her hand in his, she stepped into the family coach. Tristan swung in and sat close enough that his thigh brushed hers.
As the carriage rolled along the streets, Elizabeth and Richard kept up a stream of conversation in a clear attempt to pretend they didn’t notice the tension between Tristan and Leticia. Leticia focused on holding back her tears.
Once the carriage stopped in front of Aunt Alice’s house, Leticia murmured her thanks to Richard and Elizabeth, and vacated. Tristan kept pace with her up the front steps. As they stepped inside, she turned to him. “May I speak with you in private before we join my aunt and sister?”
He nodded, his expression blank.
She led the way to the open front parlor, the exact place where she had foolishly allowed Lord Bradbury to kiss her. If only she’d been more decisive about her refusal, or pushed him away. If she’d slapped him, that would have removed all doubt about her feelings.
No, she couldn’t fault Lord Bradbury for his intentions. Still, it had cost her Tristan’s trust.
Leticia drew a breath. To give herself a moment, she removed her gloves and bonnet, and smoothed back her hair. Her words tumbled out in a breathless rush. “I owe you an apology. After you left, Lord Bradbury asked me to marry him. I refused—I told him I love you. He tried to discourage me from choosing you because of your past, and then he tried to show me how much he cared about me by”—she took another breath. Making herself say the words, she blurted—“kissing me. I never meant to do it; he caught me off guard. He hoped I’d enjoy the kiss enough to consider a life with him. He realized that my heart wasn’t in it—I didn’t reciprocate, I vow it—and he withdrew his offer. That doesn’t change the fact that we did kiss, though.”
She turned to him to let him see her desperate sincerity. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, but please know that I never meant to play you false. I’m sorry. I’m so very, very sorry.”
He said nothing. There was no forgiveness then. Perhaps at least he would no longer be so hurt.
She twisted her hands together. “I will always love you. I know you don’t want me now. I’ve been such a hypocrite.” Her eyes burned. “That’s all I wanted to say. Thank you for giving me the chance to explain myself.” Miserable, she turned to leave. Silently, she bade farewell at all hope of a loving marriage with Tristan, the only man she’d ever truly loved.