Chapter Twenty-One
SHE’D LEFT HIM. Ina had walked out of his room without a look back, gutting him as sure as though she’d held a knife clutched in her hand.
It had been a mistake to ask her to tell him she loved him. He was pressuring her, and he knew that whatever words she might come up with would only be to appease him. It was just that he’d spent so much of his life waiting and hoping she might one day wake up and feel for him the way he felt for her.
He could now finally see what everyone around him must’ve known for years. He was an idiot.
Ina would never be able to break away from the idea of him as her friend. Why else had she fixated on Grace?
He should’ve realized it wouldn’t take his mother long to hold over Ina the fact that he’d once loved his sister-in-law. It was just the sort of thing his mother would use to her advantage to drive a wedge between them. And yet he’d been stunned when Ina had suggested that he might still harbor feelings for Grace, the woman who’d thrown him off for a better offer from his own brother.
That was when the anger truly broke. He didn’t know what else he had to do to prove to her that he was a good man who wanted to give her the entire world. If she’d let him, he would’ve made Ina his everything.
And yet you still won’t take her out of this unhappy house.
The thought plagued him as he rolled over in his empty bed late at night. Simply picking up and returning to Edinburgh wouldn’t solve anything. Oh, it might dampen this fire, but there would be others that would crop up one after another. The fundamental problem was that his wife didn’t love him. He’d given her his heart, and she couldn’t do the same for him.
It was the story of his life, always losing. He’d played second to Richard all his life, always losing in their games and coming up short in his parents’ affection. As a grown man, he’d lost the woman he’d loved to his brother. When he’d bucked his father’s demands and gone off to write, he’d thought perhaps he’d cracked his unlucky streak, but then a second book hadn’t materialized. Every way he turned he lost again and again, and had nothing to show for it.
That was why the estate mattered. That was why fulfilling his duties as baronet was so vital. He had to prove to himself, his family, and the world that he could do this. For once in his life he wanted to win.
That was why he remained firmly rooted on the mattress in the safety of his room. He’d already lost his heart to Ina once. He couldn’t do it again.
Sleep eluded Ina that night. She’d returned to her room in shock, staring blankly at a spot on the wall as Ruth helped her out of her evening dress and into a soft cotton night rail. Then she’d gotten into bed and stared at the ceiling, sleep eluding her.
Gavin had made his choice. The baronetcy and Oak Park had won out over their marriage. He’d told her to go. He wanted her to go back to Edinburgh without him.
Hot tears slid down her cheeks and onto her pillow. She wasn’t falling in love with him. She was already there, but he’d hardly given her a chance. He’d demanded her affection but then closed himself off before she could say anything, too stunned by the intensity of his feelings to figure out how to even begin reciprocating them.
And then he’d turned away from her. The fight had cut too deep. Their argument seemed too hard to break through and too steep to scale. He’d told her he was finished with her, and with those words condemned their marriage.
“Then I’ll go,” she said into the darkened room. There was nothing left for her here at Oak Park. This place had brought them nothing but sadness, escalating a fight that likely was inevitable. She and Gavin didn’t work anymore. Their union had broken them.
She needed to go home. With the comfort of her friends and the solace of her work, she just might heal enough to be able to forget.
Ina threw off her bedclothes and jammed her feet into the slippers Ruth had left for her. She grabbed the dressing gown at the foot of the bed and shoved her arms into it, drawing the sash tight around her waist. Then she yanked on the bellpull to summon Ruth. Normally she didn’t like to wake her hardworking maid in the early-morning hours, but this was urgent. If she delayed, she might lose her resolve.
Moving softly, with only the dim gaslights to guide her, she went to the sitting room attached to the boudoir. If she’d had her way, she would have stripped the entire apartment of the swaths of velvet and gold-fringed tassels in favor of light gray walls and white trim. She’d have removed the furniture covered in heavy gilt and pulled the old, stodgy paintings of stormy seas off the walls. But this wasn’t her home, and neither was it her room.
Ina drew out the chair at the writing desk, laid out a piece of heavy cotton writing paper, and began to write the letter that would end everything, because she owed him that much.
Dear Gavin,
I was foolish to believe
A soft knock announced Ruth’s arrival.
“Enter,” Ina called.
“You rang for me, ma’am?” said Ruth, dipping into a curtsy as soon as she was over the threshold.
Ina put down her pen and prepared herself to say the words she knew she must.
“Ruth, important business calls me back to Edinburgh.” Her voice trembled, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from losing control. “Please pack my traveling bag and see that you’re ready to leave after Sir Gavin has gone out for his morning business with Mr. Chase.”
The maid hesitated a split second, but whatever she thought of the request, she was too well trained to comment on it.
“Shall I instruct Mr. Harper to pack the trunks as well?” Ruth asked.
Ina shook her head. “The baronet will have need of them for a while longer, because he intends to stay here.”
She’d leave him and spare them both the indignity and hurt that would come with the dissolution of their marriage. If he wished to petition for divorce, she’d give it to him even though it would rip her apart inside.
“Harper is the only one who needs to know. He’ll send a footman ahead to purchase our tickets for the 10:31 train,” Ina said, finishing her instructions.
“Very good, ma’am.”
Ruth bobbed a curtsy and beat a quick retreat for Ina’s dressing room to pull out the small valise that would serve as her traveling bag.
It was done. There would be no going back now. Ina had chosen her fate and, pain her though it might, she knew she was right.
Hours later, the house was quiet. Ina had stayed in her room, asking Ruth to arrange for a breakfast tray to be prepared for her. She’d written pages and pages to Gavin, pouring out every bit of her regret and sorrow. Just as quickly as she wrote them, however, she’d cast them into the fire. Words weren’t enough to apologize for what she was about to do.
I never understood . . .
I could never be the wife you wanted . . .
I’m sorry I never realized . . .
Finally, when the sun was well risen to shine down on the ornamental garden her room looked out over, she set her pen down, blotted the paper, and sealed it. It wasn’t enough, but her last draft would have to do.
She pushed away from her desk as Ruth let herself into the room.
“All is ready, Lady Barrett,” said Ruth.
Ina’s spine stiffened when she heard her married name. It would be a badge of shame she carried with her for the rest of her life. A reminder of what had been and what she’d lost.
“Was Harper able to secure tickets?” she asked.
“The footman will be waiting at the station with them,” her maid said.
“Then I suppose I should dress. Will you please help me?”
Ruth worked in silence, helping Ina shed her dressing gown and night rail before stepping into a soft chemise. On went layer after layer, the armor she donned before facing the world. As Ruth cinched her into her corset and the steel bones molded her form, she couldn’t help but feel that they were holding her up, equipping her for the tasks ahead.
A few minutes later, she had put on her black traveling dress, and Ruth was slipping the last of the many little buttons that ran along her back into place. Ina tugged at the gloves that covered her hands to her wrists and gathered what shreds of courage she had left. If she was going to do this, she needed to do it now.
“Mr. Harper said he’d order the carriage to be brought around,” said Ruth.
“Thank you.” Ina pressed a hand to her maid’s arm in silent appreciation of the unquestioning aid Ruth had given her.
“I’ll see to the bags, ma’am.”
Ina nodded, picked up the letter she’d written, and turned it in her hands once. It would have to do.
She let herself out of the room and proceeded down the stairs. At this hour, Lady Sophia and Grace would be seated at a pair of desks facing away from one another in the morning room, answering correspondence. Each lady had a stack of letters from friends scattered across England. As there was no room for a third desk, one of the maids had secured a lap desk for Ina. It had made Ina feel distinctly set apart from the two other ladies. They belonged. She was temporary. It turned out they were right.
Still, she’d sat and written her letters to Scotland, sending Lana, Christine, and Anne daily missives as well as the occasional letter to Mrs. Sullivan in which she pretended that everything was perfect. It was a fantasy she’d constructed to make herself feel better.
Sure enough, when she entered the morning room, Lady Sophia and Grace were at their desks. Both looked up, taking in her dress at a glance.
“Are you leaving us?” asked Grace, putting down her pen.
“I am,” said Ina, holding her chin up. She refused to let these women think they’d chased her off. She was going back because she’d made the decision.
“I was not apprised of my son’s plans to return to Edinburgh, although I’m hardly surprised he should do something so irresponsible,” said Lady Sophia.
“He’s more equipped to be the baronet than you know,” Ina said, unable to shake her loyalty to Gavin.
“He’s in over his head.”
“Grace, will you leave us?” Ina asked, her eyes never leaving her mother-in-law.
“Why should I—?”
“Go,” Lady Sophia commanded.
Grace huffed but rose from her desk and left them.
“Why do you have so little faith in him?” Ina asked.
“Because he’s shown a distinct blindness when it comes to duty and loyalty to this family’s name,” said Lady Sophia.
“He’s been nothing but loyal to the Barretts.”
And it’s breaking my marriage apart.
“He tried to take Grace away from Richard, and he refused to see reason about his profession,” said Gavin’s mother.
“You mean he refused to heel when you and your husband wished him to,” said Ina. “He wasn’t exactly the son you wanted him to be so you cast him out with hardly a thought.”
“He was weak and ran off to Edinburgh, and he’s about to do it again,” said Lady Sophia.
“Gavin isn’t coming with me.”
Silence reverberated around her words, drawing a snake smile to the dowager’s lips. “So you’ve finally seen that you have no place here and have decided to leave.”
Ina swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Yes.”
“Does Gavin know?”
She shook her head.
“Good,” Lady Sophia said.
“Do you forget that Gavin banished you from this house?” Ina asked.
“He’ll soon realize he needs my help. Oak Park cannot run without me.”
Ina shook her head in astonishment at her mother-in-law’s arrogance.
“He won’t relent,” she said. “Once Gavin’s mind is made up he’s impossible to sway.”
She should know. She’d been his friend for years but now that was all over.
“Oak Park would never have been your home,” said Lady Sophia. “It’s best you make your peace with that now.”
“You’re right,” Ina said. “Edinburgh is my home. It always will be.”
Lady Sophia made a disparaging noise. “Your loyalty to the dreary place is astounding, really.”
Ina’s nails cut half moons into her palms. “What exactly is so astounding about it?”
That earned her a dismissive wave of a hand. “There’s no real society there. Hardly anyone is good ton.”
“That’s not true. There is more intelligence and innovation in one square block of the New Town than in half of England.”
“Among whom?” scoffed her mother-in-law. “A ragtag band of doctors and barristers?”
“Doctors, barristers, artists, intellectuals, writers, philosophers. We all make Edinburgh our home,” Ina said.
“My son should be surrounded by his peers. He’s a baronet,” the older woman hissed.
“And what of before? What of all those years when he was nothing more than your second son? A man forced to choose to either live in his brother’s shadow or strike out on his own.”
“My husband provided for him,” said Lady Sophia.
It was Ina’s turn to laugh in disbelief. “Provided for him? He hardly gave him enough to pay his rent and his coal bill. And what’s worse? Gavin never let on about it. He never once complained about his lot or his poverty, because he was free to do what he loved.
“Do you never think of that?” she asked. “That your son, who has never wanted to be master of this estate, has set aside the things he loves?”
“What is that? A book hardly anyone read? A handful of articles? That’s easy to give up when it comes to an estate as grand as Oak Park. Here he’ll be respected—a pillar of the community. He’ll be invited everywhere. He’ll go to London. He’ll be seen with the right sort of people who can elevate his position and the Barrett name even higher.”
Ina shook her head in disbelief. “You truly don’t know the first thing about him, do you? He doesn’t want any of that.”
“And you think instead he’d rather be in Edinburgh where he’s nothing more than the husband to a notorious woman whose family thinks money has bought them respectability?”
“No. I don’t think he wants that either.”
Lady Sophia looked at her with satisfaction. “I’m glad to see you’re beginning to understand reason.”
“I’d come to Oak Park with a mind to be a comfort during your period of mourning,” Ina said, drawing herself up to her full height. “I can see that there was no hope of us ever finding common ground.”
“How can I find common ground with a woman whose very reputation threatens my son’s position in this world?”
Ina’s lips tightened, but instead of responding, she simply turned and left.
She managed to hold on to the emotions welling up inside of her until the door shut behind her. Then the tears began to roll down her face. Her hope was that one day Gavin would understand the freedom she was giving him. Freedom from the love he no longer felt. Freedom from the wife he didn’t want. Freedom from his past and hers.
Somewhere in the house a grandfather clock chimed nine, and Ina knew it was time
“You’re truly leaving?” asked Grace.
Ina started. Her sister-in-law was standing a few feet away, watching her.
“There’s nothing left here for me,” she said. “I should never have left Edinburgh in the first place.”
“Does Gavin know?” asked Grace.
“He doesn’t.” Ina hesitated and then drew out the letter she’d written from her reticule. She’d hoped to find a maid to give it to, but she couldn’t be in this house any longer. Grace would have to do. “Please give this to him. Maybe this will answer some of his questions.”
Grace took the letter with a furrowed brow. “You’re certain that you want to give it to me?”
No, but she’d have to trust that her sister-in-law would be a woman of her word.
“I know that a long time ago you were both . . . close,” Ina said, the words cutting into her.
“Why not mail it?” Grace asked.
“Because this is done now.” The sooner she let go, the sooner she could rebuild.
Grace cocked her head and considered it. “I’ll give it to him when the time is right.”
Ina swallowed and bid her sister-in-law farewell. Then she forced her thoughts to the marble that was waiting for her at home. At least she could bury herself in her work and try to once again find the woman she was.