Chapter Twenty
Susannah did not even attempt to play at haughty airs with the assistant this time, or change her dress, or care at all about what anybody thought of her. She had run almost the entire way there, and her hair was a fright, her face and brow and back dripping with perspiration, and the shock on the assistant’s face registered somewhere in the back of her mind, but not with any significance.
She was immediately shown into Mr. Goulding’s office and he rose with a kind smile, but she ignored that as well as she set all of the money she had managed to scrape together, most of it rather frantically over the last three days, on his desk. The moment she had picked herself off of the floor of that gazebo, she’d had the sole focus of getting all the money she could, however she could, in the hopes that it would hold off the creditors and their threat of prison.
Susannah had not shed another tear since then, not for herself or Colin or her fears. She had worked her fingers to the bone for Mrs. Randall, hardly sleeping at all and almost completely neglecting her son, and Tibby had graciously given her an advance on her salary without any questions or raised brows. Three days and nights of emotionless, mind-numbing work and desperation, all for this.
All told, it was not the grand amount she had hoped to achieve for all her efforts, but it ought to have been enough to settle the feathers of those who hunted her now.
“There,” she said with satisfaction as she pushed the money towards him. “Will that satisfy them, do you suppose?”
Mr. Goulding looked down at the money, then back up at her. “I don’t understand,” he finally said.
She gave him a look, her hands setting at her hips. “What is there to understand?” she asked. “They wanted more money, I have brought more money. Do you need further explanation?”
Mr. Goulding did not react to her sudden rudeness. He wet his lips, slowly drew his spectacles off of their perch on his nose, and exhaled. “Lady Hawkins-Dean, I thought you knew…”
Susannah was suddenly very uneasy. “Knew what?”
His expression remained placid. “The debts are paid. In full.”
She must have been more sleep deprived than she thought, for the words she had just heard were complete and utter nonsense. She staggered to the side a little and caught the chair nearest her. “I beg your pardon?”
His eyes were curious, but kind, and his mouth curved into a small smile. “They are paid, my lady. All of them. Every bit. The creditors are all satisfied, no one is hunting you, and no one is going to a debtor’s prison. You do not owe anything to anybody anymore. Not a farthing.”
Her hold on the chair trembled and her head was suddenly swimming. “How?” she managed. “When?”
He picked up her money and brought it over to her, taking her arm and helping her into the seat she clung to. “It was all settled about an hour ago. I don’t know how, or who; I was working with other solicitors and bankers. I just assumed it was your friends we have been speaking of, though I hardly expect that any one person could pay so much at once. Could they have done this in secret out of kindness for you?”
“I never told them,” she whispered, finally admitting the truth of it. “I never told anyone how much it was, how bad it had gotten there at the end…” She shook her head. “No one knew. And I took great care not to be followed or accompanied when I came here. You understand why.”
He nodded at once, seeming more comfortable now that she was speaking sense. “I do. And all I can say, my lady, is that someone very powerful, or several of them, must be looking out for you. It is the only explanation I can come up with for this miraculous turn of events.”
Susannah would not contradict him, considering what had occurred, but there was no such person in her life. No one knew the truth, especially not her friends, and no one had those funds. Well, perhaps Tibby, but she had taken great care to completely avoid any hint of possibility that she would ever know.
“No more debts,” she murmured softly, the reality sinking in. She ought to cry, she felt as though she should be crying, but there were no tears to be had. She was almost numb, in fact.
One thought found its way through the murky melee of her thoughts: what of her other debt that Mr. Goulding knew nothing about? Not a debt as structured or demanding as what was now apparently settled, but it was no less pressing in her life.
She rose quickly, and stammered out some sort of excuse that nobody in their right mind would have believed, forcing the money back into her reticule.
Mr. Goulding bowed as he took her hand. “It has been my honor to be of service to you, my lady, though the circumstances were abominable. If there is anything I can do for you in the future, please do let me know.”
She nodded, thanked him, and swept from the office far more grandly than she had entered.
At which point, she ran, full tilt, for Mr. Jacobs’ office. She had no reason to suspect that anything should have been done on that end, even fewer people knew of her family’s destitution than knew of her husband and his ruin. But she had to know, had to be sure.
Mr. Jacobs did not look at all surprised to see her. And he gave her the second blow of the day.
“They are all taken care of, Mrs. Clarke,” he said with a smile, using the alias she’d provided. “Your cousin explained that he had come into some money and thought he could help the family. They will not be well off, but it will be sufficient for their means. And he was particular to set up an annual sum for them. You don’t have to supply them any more funds.”
Susannah clamped her lips together to keep from letting a hoarse cry escape. Then she found her way through the shock and managed to say, “Cousin?”
Mr. Jacobs grinned. “Yes, he said you might be startled by it. Wanted it to be a surprise, I gather.”
“Which cousin?” Susannah asked carefully, knowing full well she did not have any cousins living.
Mr. Jacobs thought for a moment. “Do you know, I don’t believe he said? We only finally worked things out with him and his solicitor this morning, and with all of that, I did not get a name. I apologize.”
She forced a smile she did not feel. “What did he look like, Mr. Jacobs?” she asked, hoping to at least get an idea of who might be setting out such money for her.
“Average height,” he said, measuring with his hand. “Blonde hair, dark eyes, very finely dressed, stocky fellow, bit of an Irish lilt. Do you have Irish blood?”
“By marriage,” she lied easily, feeling even more bewildered. She didn’t know anyone matching that description. And if Mr. Jacobs didn’t know who it was, or question the supposed relationship, she could hardly press the matter.
And at this moment, she didn’t want to ask any questions at all.
Mr. Jacobs laughed at her expression. “It’s over, Mrs. Clarke. Get on with your life.”
She nodded, her chest tightening and her head feeling so light she thought it would fly off of her body with the slightest breeze. Somehow she made her way from the solicitor’s office, and the business district, and eventually wandering back into Mayfair.
She walked towards Tibby’s house, her thoughts awhirl, unaware of her surroundings. How could her debts be so easily paid? She refused to believe it, and yet her solicitors had said so. She was free. And yet her freedom did not sit well. Would the men who had been so ruthlessly pursuing her be so easily appeased? They wanted far more than the settlement, they wanted complete ruination. She was not ruined, only destitute.
She could not trust this.
Her desperation might be gone, but her situation was not much different. Her past was still her past, and the ties remained.
They could still come for her.
She did not owe money to anyone, which meant she could settle for less wages. More discretion. Less pain. London was perfect place to hide, and now she had more reason to. Or… there could be something more.
She heard her name called and thought for a moment that her fears had been right. Her heart, having leapt to her throat, now crashed to her stomach as she saw Colin and a very pretty young woman headed in her direction. Colin’s expression was blank, but the girl on his arm was beaming.
Her name escaped Susannah at the moment, but that seemed inconsequential.
Colin was obviously close with her, and it was the final straw.
She tried for a smile, though the effort nearly killed her.
“Miss Hart!” his companion exclaimed with a genuine delight and too-perfect smile. “What a most pleasant surprise!”
Susannah licked her lips quickly and curtseyed. “Miss Arden,” she murmured, relieved to have recalled the name at last. “I wonder if you might lend me Mr. Gerrard for a moment. Only a brief one,” she added, seeing Colin stiffen a bit.
Colin shook his head, his jaw tightening further still. “I am sorry, Miss Hart, but I really must see Miss Arden returned to her aunt. She is late, and must not go unescorted.”
Miss Arden looked confused, but said nothing.
Susannah tried for a swallow. “Very well. Perhaps another time then.” But she doubted there would be another time. She needed to leave, and he obviously took no pleasure in seeing her. She had not forgotten their last encounter, and there was nothing in this version of Colin to recommend him.
“Indeed,” he said with a nod, shifting closer to Miss Arden. He started to move, then stopped and gave her a too-polite look that she did not believe. “Is it of importance?”
“No,” she heard herself say in a tremulous voice. “No, it is only the topics we have discussed before. I have… been giving them thought.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, but were cold. “I see. I have been doing the same.”
“Have you?” she asked, almost holding her breath.
He nodded once. “You were right.” He gave her a tight smile that could have been a grimace. “Geese and swans and all that.”
She could only blink as the air in her lungs was suddenly gone. “I… I see,” she finally replied, her tongue and throat feeling parched and coarse on the words.
“Do you?” he asked, peering more closely at her.
She gave a brief nod. “Yes. Far better than you can imagine. I…”
I did not think you would feel that way. I thought I could… I thought… I thought…
Lord, what a fool she was.
She cleared her throat and somehow managed to force a smile. “I apologize for taking up your time, Mr. Gerrard. Miss Arden. Good day.”
He inclined his head. “Miss Hart.”
But she had already turned from him, nearly stumbling in her haste to be away from him. From them. From feelings. From memories.
She couldn’t breathe, her lungs simply refused to take in air at all, and her knees quivered in their attempts to work properly.
She had spent so long dreaming of heaven, thinking she could never have it, keeping herself from touching it. And now that a way had been opened, heaven within her reach, she had found herself forbidden after all.
And consequently found herself in hell.
Scattered, panicked breaths eventually emerged from her and she clutched at her chest in agony, pain searing her. He didn’t want her. He finally saw what she had been telling him, that he was too far above her for such a connection, despite their feelings. She had forced his feelings from him, turned him into a memory after all. He found her unworthy, lacking, perhaps even tainted.
Her head swam, her cheeks burned, it seemed every eye was on her as she staggered along the paths towards home. Her feet were as unsteady as her mind, too painfully focused on the loss of her one bright shining memory, the only thing Sir Martin could not steal, to do anything else. Her ears rang strangely, no sound audible but the frantic, scattered, agonized pattering of her broken heart.
What would she do without Colin? He could go on as he ever had, perhaps even with Miss Arden at his side, or some other nameless, faceless proper Society girl. He could be what she’d always assumed he would be. Happy without her, better without her, loving without her.
It was not supposed to hurt this much. She had been resigned to it before. Now…
She covered her mouth as a soft sob nearly broke free. She squeezed her eyes shut on the falling tears, every bone in her body suddenly on fire. She couldn’t bear this. She was free to do as she wished and yet she had no direction. Nothing to hope for or dream of, nothing to wonder about or wish on a star for, nothing to take her from her reality.
Nothing.
She could not bear this.
Mayfair was suddenly a place of nightmares. Everything… every tree and horse and person… would remind her of Colin. The houses she was now seeing would remind her of the walk to Colin’s. Hyde Park would be all memories of Colin. The dress she was wearing had been a gift from Colin. Even Tibby would remind her of Colin.
She had to leave. She had to take Freddie and go.
She did not know where, and she did not care either. Anywhere would be better than here. She was not desperate for funds anymore, she could work anywhere and do anything without worry.
But she could not wait. She would not.
Explanation and reason would be impossible.
She was leaving at once, within the hour, if she had anything to say about it.
And no one would dissuade her.
Colin slowly made his way home after escorting Lily Arden to her aunt’s home. He’d happened upon her in the park by accident, and, finding her alone and unaccompanied, he had volunteered to see her there. He’d spent the entire morning finalizing the details of Susannah’s debts and finances, and now it was done, he was finally starting to see a hint of his old self.
But then he’d seen Susannah, and he’d had a devil of a time containing himself.
She wanted to talk about them. He wasn’t ready yet. There was too much left to do.
Yes, he had gone to extraordinary lengths for her, and he would have done more if he could, but he did not do any of it to win her. He was only doing what he could to ease her path, to do what he should have been doing for fifteen years. Instead of doubting her and hating her, thinking the very worst of her, and doing his level best to pretend she was nothing to him, he ought to have given in to his instincts, found a way to dig deeper, and trusted what his heart had been trying to tell him all along.
If he had, perhaps he might have saved her sooner. He might have prevented the horrors in her past, or at least relieved some of them. They might have found happiness. Had it not been for his wounded pride and obstinacy, he might have been worthy of her.
She was the single most remarkable woman in the world. And he loved her beyond all comprehension and reason, far more deeply and thoroughly than he thought he could bear. He loved her enough to know that marriage to him, as he was, while his wildest and most fervent fantasy, would never be a single percentage of what she ought to have.
Through the help of the Gent and his associates, and Colin’s own, they had managed to make a start, and perhaps eventually he would be able to attain his heart’s only desire. But while he was so unworthy, he couldn’t presume such things.
He entered his house to find the strange solitude he had become accustomed to of late. He peered into a drawing room, wondering why the drapes had been pulled to make the room so dark.
He set about pulling back the drapes of the room, feeling as if he were starting to pull back the thick and darkening drapes of his own heart and soul as well. It was an apt analogy.
“Lady Raeburn, sir,” Bartlet’s voice intoned a bit breathlessly from the door.
Colin started to turn when he heard a very shrill voice screech, “What the hell did you do, Colin Gerrard?”
He smirked a little and raised a brow as he turned completely to face Tibby. “I thought you said a lady never swears,” he replied cheekily.
Tibby’s expression wiped his amusement away. Her face was contorted with rage, her lace cap askew, and all hint of her usual finery gone as she stood before him in a simple gray dress and plum colored walking coat. She snarled a bit at him. “Do you see a lady at this moment?” she snapped.
Colin took a moment, measuring Tibby’s obvious distress and anger, something rather nervous unfurling in the pit of his stomach. “What’s happened, Tibby?”
“What’s happened is that I came home from the milliner to find my beloved companion packing her bags,” Tibby snapped, something that looked too much like tears shimmering in her eyes. “It was quick work, as only her old and tatty things were packed. I persuaded her to take two of her newer gowns, but I am half convinced she will sell them, as I believe she did with the others. She did pack Freddie’s clothes, not that he’ll care about that, considering they’ll be living like vagrants.”
Colin marched over to her and seized her arms. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.
She met his eyes indignantly. “I couldn’t stop her, not even when I begged. She refused to say why, only that she couldn’t stay. She was distant and distressed and so pale I thought she was ill. But for all of that, she said she was well, she simply had to leave at once. I knew you had to be at the heart of it. The moment they left, I…”
“They’re gone?” he whispered, his chest beginning to throb. “Where?”
Tibby blinked and was suddenly softer. “I don’t know, Colin. I don’t think she knows either. But yes, they are gone.”
Colin released her arms and tore from the room, his heart in his throat as he ran from the house. She couldn’t be gone, it was a misunderstanding, a mistake. She would never leave Tibby, she was devoted to her. And Freddie was well looked after, and his best chance for the future surely lay there.
Colin’s feet skidded as he rounded corners, taking all sorts of shortcuts to get the few blocks to Tibby’s house. People were milling about, staring at him like he was the wild man he was, but he ignored them as he moved around each, his entire being focused on his destination.
Tibby’s house loomed before him suddenly and he burst through the front door, startling the aged butler, two footmen, and three maids in his mad haste.
“Susannah!” he bellowed as he charged the stairs three at a time. His voiced echoed in the entryway and hall eerily, the only sound in the entire house his voice and his steps.
“Susannah!” he cried again, rounding the landing towards the bedchambers. “Freddie! SUSANNAH!”
The door to her room seemed forever out of reach as he raced down the hallway towards it. “Freddie, Susannah, answer me!”
At last, he reached it, and he wrenched the door open. He barreled into the room, nearly tumbling over headfirst as he did so, gasping Susannah’s name.
The room was empty, the bed perfectly made and pristine, and on the table beside the bureau, glinting in the morning light, lay a small, silver locket.
Half of his heart wanted to touch it, thinking it was an illusion, a hallucination, some horrid nightmare from which he could not seem to awaken.
The rest of his heart forced himself out of the room, his chest heaving with agonizing pants of air that sustained nothing. He collapsed against the wall, unable to support his own weight anymore.
She was gone.
How much she had already endured, and survived, and he alone had been what broke her.
A low, shuddering whimper escaped him as his eyes burned. He leaned more heavily against the wall and clutched at his hair, his fingers digging into his scalp.
What had he done?