Enduring Love (3 page)

Shoulders back, spine straight, John left the café. Inside he quailed. What could he say to a woman he’d hated for years and had believed dead? He imagined telling her what he thought about what she’d done, and he could feel the pleasure of retribution.

Unaware of his steps, he kept moving. A wagon rolled past and a dog barked, but they seemed part of another world. Everything around him seemed blurred. There were people, horses, drays loaded with supplies, but they moved by like vague shadows. A woman twirling a parasol sauntered past and smiled. John barely noticed. His mind was with Margaret. What would she say? No matter what it was, he didn’t want to hear. If giving all his worldly possessions could keep him from this meeting, he’d have offered them gladly.

He stopped in front of the boardinghouse. Its white walls shouted at him, the spotless windows winked malevolence. He stared at the door. When it opened suddenly and a man stepped out, John’s pulse picked up. The man brushed past with barely a glance.

He forced his hand to reach for the knob, grabbed and turned. Opening the door, he stepped onto a carpeted entryway and pulled the door closed behind him.

A doorway to his right led to a parlor, where Margaret sat on a divan sipping tea. She didn’t see him, seemingly entranced by a book she was reading.

She wore a gown made of lavender linen with long sleeves and a rather revealing neckline. John felt familiarity. She was more handsome than when he’d last seen her. She wore her auburn hair caught back, allowing thick tresses to cascade onto her shoulders and down her back. It shimmered in the sunlight. Her dark eyes were lined by heavy lashes, and when she lifted the cup to her mouth, her full lips seemed to caress the rim.

John was captivated and for a brief moment transported back to their first meeting. He’d been instantly smitten and thrilled when she seemed interested in him. Their courtship had been heated and brief. They were married soon after that first encounter.

John tugged at his waistcoat and stepped into the room. Margaret looked up. Was it adoration he saw in her dark eyes? He dare not think on it. “Margaret, you wished to speak to me?”

“Yes. I’m grateful you’ve come. I was afraid you might not.”

“It seems I have no choice.” John kept his tone impersonal. “We’re still married, and that means we’ve matters to discuss.”

Margaret looked wounded. “I should think so.”

Removing his hat, John crossed to a cushioned chair and sat. Sliding the brim through his fingers, he held his angry thoughts inside and waited for her to speak. After all, she’d summoned him.

Margaret set her book aside. She offered John a loving gaze. “It’s wonderful to look at you. There were times I feared I’d never see you again.”

Her voice was soft as rose petals, and John felt a stirring in his heart, remembering how he’d once loved her. He’d always been enraptured by her voice.

“It seems we’ve a bit of a problem. You’ve taken a wife, yet you’re still married to me.”

“We’ve no problem.” John fought to keep his voice resolute. “We’ll divorce.”

Shock tightened Margaret’s features. “Divorce? How can you suggest such a thing? After all I’ve done to find you? I’ve come so far. I thought you loved me.” Her hands trembled and she set her saucer and cup on the table beside her. “Have you no feelings for me at all?”

“I did . . . once. But that was a long time ago.”

“What cause have you to divorce me?”

“Cause? You ask me for a cause?” John was taken aback. “After what you did?”

“What I did?” Margaret tugged a handkerchief out from beneath the cuff of her sleeve and dabbed at tears.

“You act so innocent.” He could barely hold back a sneer. “I was in prison because I defended Henry in a fight at the pub. And then you and he went off together and took my fortune with you.” He set his jaw and glared at her, enjoying the sense of reprisal.

Margaret looked bewildered. “That’s not how it was at all. I can’t believe you’d entertain such an idea.”

“Henry told me how it happened. You weren’t innocent.”

“I am innocent of this. You know how I loved you . . . there has never been anyone else. Henry forced me to go with him. He held me captive, and . . . I had no choice or lose my life.” She gazed at her hands, seeming to relive some sort of horror. “While holding me prisoner, he told me of his scheme and how he’d taken the business and its assets. I anguished for you, John. Please believe me.”

John was not convinced. “A neighbor saw you leave together. He made no mention of your being in distress—quite the contrary.”

“That’s how Henry wanted it to look. He held a pistol to my side every moment we were traveling. And then . . . he . . .” She twisted the handkerchief. “He ravaged me.” A sob escaped and she buried her face in the handkerchief.

John didn’t know how to respond. All this could be a ruse, but for what purpose?

“I became ill and Henry left me. By the time I made my way back to London, you’d already been transported.”

“If you were so distraught about my going, why did it take you so long to find me? It’s been three years.”

“How is a woman alone to undertake such a journey? I had no means. When I returned to our home, it had been sold and there was not a farthing left in the bank. Henry took everything.”

John stared at her, hoping to discern the truth. How could he trust her?

“Please, John, you must believe me.” Margaret moved from the settee, dropping to her knees in front of him. “All this time, I’ve thought only of you and the life we could have. I’ve prayed I’d find you. And now I have.”

John didn’t know what to believe.

“Why would I come all this way, if not for love?”

He could think of no reason. Even with the additional property he’d purchased, he had only a fledgling farm and very little cash. He gazed into her dark eyes, trying to read what was there. He was stunned by what he saw—devotion. “Why not a letter, then?” he asked.

“I did write. If you didn’t receive word from me, it is the post that is to blame.”

John knew gaolers cared little about the prisoners or the mail. What if he’d been wrong all this time? He pushed out of the chair and offered Margaret a hand up. The two stood almost toe to toe.

Remembering Hannah, John turned abruptly and walked to the window. Looking out on the street, his eyes moved to the hotel. Hannah was there . . . waiting for him. If Margaret were speaking the truth, what would that mean for him and Hannah? Pain swelled in his chest like a cruel fist squeezing his heart.

He turned and looked at Margaret. “I’ll think on what you’ve said.” John couldn’t allow her to see his emotions. He moved toward the door. “We’ll speak again.”

“John, please. What shall I do?”

He didn’t want to hear her velvet voice plead. He wanted to hate her. “I’ll think on it. That’s all I can do. I promise nothing.” He walked out of the room, knowing that under these circumstances a divorce would never be granted.

3

Hannah stood at the window of her hotel room and watched the street below. Two women, both with children in tow, greeted one another, chatted for a few moments, and then went on their way. A shopkeeper swept the sidewalk in front of his store, then stopped to study a wagon roll past, which raised more dust that would need to be cleaned away. Two dogs barked at him from the back of the wagon, which seemed to be overflowing with children. How odd that the world went on as it always had while her life had been turned upside down.

John had been gone a long while. She couldn’t imagine what he and Margaret could be talking about all this time, or perhaps she was afraid to imagine. Finally, she moved to the mirror. She looked dreadful, her eyes puffy and red-rimmed. Removing the pins from her hair, she allowed the dark tresses to fall to her shoulders, then pulled a brush through the fine strands. John often caressed her hair, saying it was soft as silk.

What could be taking so long?

After pinning her hair back in place, she splashed her face with cool water and returned to her position at the window. She caught her breath when she saw John cross the street. He walked with purpose, his fists clenched and his brow furrowed. Clearly, he was distressed. Hannah suddenly felt sick.

She watched until he disappeared beneath the hotel eaves, then turned and faced the door. He’d be there any moment. Noticing a wrinkle on the bedspread, she moved to smooth it, then quickly returned to her place at the window. What would he say? What had Margaret told him?

Muffled footfalls moved down the hallway toward her room.
It must be him
. Just outside the room the paces stopped. The door didn’t open.
He’s just standing there
. Hannah knew that whatever had taken place must be bad. She held her breath.

When the knob finally turned, Hannah hugged herself about the waist.
What if he still loves Margaret
?
What shall I do
?
I
can’t bear it
. She shushed her runaway thoughts, reminding herself of John’s devotion to her. How many times had he assured her of his love—more than she could count. And hadn’t he always said he would love her forever? She clung to the tender memories.

The door opened and John stepped into the room. At first he didn’t look at her, but when his hazel eyes settled on her face, she saw his anguish. She sucked in a breath and pressed a hand to her stomach.

He closed the door. Silence hung between husband and wife.

Hannah couldn’t bear to hear, but she must know and finally asked, “What’s happened?” Wishing she could take back the question, she turned to the window and stared at the street and its people who happily went about their daily errands. “No. Don’t tell me.” She wanted to be one of those people—the one’s whose lives weren’t ruined. If only she and John could go on with theirs, as if nothing had happened.

“Hannah, we must talk.” John’s voice sounded tight, as if he were being strangled. He moved to her, but she didn’t turn to face him. Resting his hands on her upper arms, he pulled her close.

Hannah didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

“It would be best if you sat down.”

She could hear the death knoll in his voice. Feeling the heat of tears and the rending of her heart, she moved to a writing desk and seated herself. Laying trembling hands on the desktop, she stared at them. What had happened? Barely able to breathe, she forced herself to look at John. “Tell me.”

He paced while telling her about his meeting with Margaret. Every time Hannah tried to break in with a question, he’d hush her and hurry on with the story as if getting it all out at once made it less devastating. When he’d finished, he stopped his striding back and forth and gazed at Hannah.

She loves him
.
I’ve lost him
. Holding back tears, she looked at her husband. “Do you love her?”

“Of course not. Is that what you think?” He moved toward her.

“Don’t. Please.” She pushed to her feet and backed away.

John stopped abruptly. “I don’t love her. I love only you.”

Hannah clasped her hands tightly, as if holding on would keep her world in order. She looked at the door; she needed to get out—to get away.

“Hannah.” John’s voice entreated her to remain.

“It seems she never meant you any harm. Henry is your enemy, not Margaret. She was a victim, just as you were.”

“That doesn’t change anything. I don’t love her. I’ll file for a divorce.”

“Why? It won’t be granted. You know it’s impossible except under the most severe circumstances.”

“These are severe.”

Hannah wished she could agree with John, but she knew pretending was useless. “Margaret’s done you no harm. In good faith she traveled from London, all the while believing you to be imprisoned, yet willing to stand at your side.” Suddenly like a dark wave, understanding of Margaret’s desperate situation and her devotion toward John swept over Hannah. “She must love you very much.”

“I’m not convinced of that.”

With hopelessness seeping into her soul, Hannah dropped her arms to her sides. “I wish it weren’t true, if only it weren’t, but we’ve got to see things as they are, not as we want them to be.”

She met John’s eyes, their light dimmed by grief. “You must free yourself from what you’ve believed these past three years and see the truth of the circumstances. Margaret risked a great deal to come here.” Hannah returned to the window and pressed a palm against the glass. “If what she says is true, you and I have no marriage. And there’s nothing that can be done about it.”

In three strides John was beside her. “You can’t know that. I love you. You love me. And we
are
married.”

Hannah turned and faced him. He was so close she could feel his breath. She placed her hands against his chest. “How is it possible for a man to be married to two women at the same time?”

John didn’t speak right away. “There must be a law that can sort out a situation like this.”

“If so, I’ve never heard of it.” She waited, hoping that he might remember a similar situation or something that might help restore their life.

He said nothing.

“That’s it, then.”

“I can’t be married to you and Margaret at the same time. It’s impossible.”

“That is our dilemma and our tragedy.”

John tried to pull Hannah to him, but she resisted. “Where are we if we’ve not got each other?” he asked. Again he tried to draw her close.

Needing his strength and the warmth of his arms, Hannah relented, allowing the embrace. She pressed her face against his shirt, breathing in the scent of him. She could no longer hold back the tears. Wrapping her arms about him, she allowed herself to weep. A barren future rushed at her. “How can I live without you?”

“You won’t have to.” John’s voice trembled. “We’ll speak to Reverend Taylor. He’ll know what to do. There must be a way.”

Hannah held him more tightly. “I pray you’re right.”