Moondrops (Love Letters) (8 page)

Their reasons were as different as night was from day—even if he wasn’t altogether sure what his exact reasons were. Yet. He would decipher them eventually.

Most times life was a question of mind over body. Where women were concerned, Hugh’s position was body over mind, every time. It would probably prove the case this time, too.

Although this time he wasn’t completely convinced.

Conceding the point, Hugh nodded.

“Why?” Leave it to Emmaline to be so direct!

“I am not sure,” he answered honestly.

“She is pretty.”

“Many women are attractive.”

“She is intelligent.”

“Intelligence is not required for most of my dalliances, Emmaline.”

A second toast triangle received a generous dollop of orange marmalade. Then, a small bite and careful chewing before the comment, “She does not throw herself at you. In fact, Elise seems annoyed by your presence. That is something you are not accustomed to from a woman, Hugh.”

“Thank you for pointing it out.”

Chapter 7

“Ancient Arabian legend? You expect us to believe you kept the truth from us because of an ancient Arabian legend?” Elise could not help herself. Composure was nowhere to be found and keeping her voice down was out of the question.

“Legend be damned,” Louise declared. Her hair, once so neatly secured in a braid down her back, had come undone sometime during the long, difficult night. Her fingers had swept through the strands so many times they tangled around her shoulders in untamed waves. She looked as if she’d had a wild night filled with dreamy adventures.

“Louise! I will not tolerate that kind of talk beneath this roof!” Motherly instinct survived, despite the torturous sob-punctuated explanations that had filled the past hours.

Genevieve looked worse than either of her daughters did. Red-rimmed eyes alternately held their gazes or stared off into the darkest corners of the room. Now that daylight had broken, she had nowhere to look away from them so she concentrated on the fingers she clasped in her lap.

Only the epithet brought her attention back to them. “I am still your mother, regardless of the mistakes I have made in my lifetime. You will not speak so deplorably again. I forbid it.”

Louise stuck out her chin, the spoiled child in her surfacing yet again. She’d shown her indulgent nature so often during the past hours Elise was ready to strangle her sister.

“Deplorable actions breed deplorable deeds. I should think you have only yourself to blame if I do not measure up, Mother. I am, after all, a bastard. Oh, but I am ruined—a bastard is so much less desirable than a dressmaker’s daughter, don’t you think?”

“You are not illegitimate.” Genevieve’s voice broke over the last word. “I told you—a hundred times, it feels like—that you and Elise were conceived after I married your father. Just because he left me—”

“To live with a whore, apparently,” Louise interjected.

“The point is that you are not illegitimate. Neither of you are.”

Genevieve’s hand, when it reached across the kitchen table for Elise’s hand—which she freely gave—was damp. Her cotton nightdress, wrinkled from sitting so long, made her seem small and, not for the first time, Elise felt sorry for her mother.

She had been deceived, and in turn deceived her daughters, it was true. But had the man she married not left her for another, the deception would never have been necessary.

Elise gave her mother’s hand a fast squeeze. Relief shone in Genevieve’s troubled eyes.

Time to diffuse the situation. They were all tired, worn to the bone from revelations long overdue. It would not help anyone to keep pointing fingers and making accusations. What had been done was done. There was no turning back the clock. The future was all that mattered. And that, as far as she could see, had not been altered.

Elise faced her sister. “You have got to get away from considering Emmaline Byrd at all. She does not matter to us. So she lived with our father. So what? Mother told us he went away on a ship and never returned; that was not the case. Living in London with Emmaline or gone by sea—who cares? He left us, which is what is important. He abandoned us, something men have been doing since the dawn of time. No need to blame Mother—or ourselves—for something a man does as part of his nature.”

“I don’t believe all men do what your father did, girls. He left me, not you, because we were not compatible. It didn’t have anything to do with either of you, our parting.” Genevieve took her hand away. Three mugs of tea, long gone cold, sat before them on the worn wooden table. She lifted hers to her lips and sipped. Grimacing, she set the mug down so hard liquid splashed the tabletop. “I should not have lied to you, regardless of what happened between your father and me. It was not right and I am sorry.” She met their gazes, one by one, then said, “I am sorry, girls. Sorry for this, and for so much more.”

To her credit, Louise’s all-about-me demeanor crumbled in the face of their mother’s regret. She reached out and whisked the wet spot away with her hand, wiping her palm across her opposite sleeve. “It is not your fault, really. It sounds like our father was a dashing man, and you an innocent girl. How could you resist his charms?”

Genevieve lifted her shoulders slightly, and then let them fall slowly. “Yes, he was a smooth talker. Handsome, funny, a good conversationalist. But the truth is, I didn’t pay attention to how good a man he was until after I’d made my mistake. And really, I couldn’t fault him for leaving me when he found out. Of course, at the time I was hurt and angry, but I’ve had a lot of years to think about it. I drove him away.”

“What did you do?” Elise asked. It was a personal question but after hours of revelations, tears and apologies, she did not hesitate to ask.

The velvet pouch, the pearl earrings resting on top of the sleek fabric, sat in the center of the table. Elise reached for them as she spoke, but midway her arm stilled and she brought her hand back. The third set of earrings seemed untouchable, now that they’d been identified as Genevieve’s wedding gift from their father. The little pouch had held more than earrings; the secrets tied within had shaped all three women’s lives.

Genevieve did not hesitate. She grabbed the earrings, looked Elise straight in the eyes and said, “I let it out that my main attraction—initially, that is—to your father was his station. He wasn’t a peer but his father was a highly successful merchant who passed his business, and wealth, to his son. When your father learned that uppermost in my mind had been the thought that accepting his hand in marriage would bring me higher socially, he was devastated. In hindsight, I can’t blame him. It must have hurt him dreadfully, knowing I’d cared more for what lined his pockets than for the man who wore the pants. My only excuse—and it is no good excuse at all—is that I was immature. Thoughtless. Self-centered.” She paused, gazed at Louise for a lingering moment, then went on. “I let the cat out of the bag, in a fit of pregnant hysteria which I will forever regret having. He couldn’t bear my motives for marrying him, and left. Dear man, he thought I’d loved him all along.”

“Didn’t you?” Louise asked.

“Oh, yes. I loved him. I just realized it too late, is all.” Genevieve sighed, and the grief in the sound tore Elise’s heart to shreds.

“He sounds like a romantic fellow.” Having a heartbroken father was more soothing than thinking he’d been heartless. Elise continued, “You cannot blame yourself forever, you know. Forgiveness, especially now the truth is out and he is passed on, is something you need to give yourself.”

“I know,” Genevieve replied. She said it but didn’t appear as if she believed it.

Elise hoped that in time their mother might find peace. She had given everything for her daughters, and she had paid for her foolishness already. It was time for them to move forward, regardless of the past.

Trying to lighten the moment, Elise smiled as brightly as she could given the condition of her tired mind and body. She shot a warning glance toward Louise.

“Tell us again, mother, about the Arabian legend. How did our father’s father come by the six earrings?”

“Wait—don’t say a word until I get a fresh kettle of water on the fire.” Louise rose and hurried to the sink, grabbing the teakettle from the stove as she passed by. Elise watched in amazement as her sister completed the task without mishap. When she sat back down, Elise gave Louise a questioning look.

“What?” Louise acted as if she was born to the position of cook.

Genevieve smiled, the first real smile she’d given them since seeing her earrings, and said, “Louise and I took turns in the kitchen while you were away. It is working out well. Your sister handles a skillet without any problem. She also makes an appetizing blueberry buckle for dessert.”

“I’m impressed, Louise. I had no idea…”

“Neither did I,” her younger sister admitted with a giggle. “I guess there’s more to me than one would assume.” She shrugged, as if that explained everything.

“More to all of us, it seems,” Elise said. Turning back to Genevieve, she prodded, “Well? The legend?”

“Your father’s father…wait. What am I saying? Your paternal grandfather acquired the earrings years before your father was born. There were actually eight pearl earrings to begin with. One pair went to your grandmother on their wedding day. The next pair…” Here Genevieve stopped. Opening the hand that held the earrings, she said, “This pair was my wedding gift from your father. It amazes me that he kept them all this time.”

“If he gave them to you, how were they in his possession?” Elise asked.

“He took them back the night he left.” Genevieve closed her hand around the earrings, then dropped her hand onto her lap. “He said I didn’t deserve to keep them, that they were given as a token to seal a pact that he’d been tricked into being a part of, so he took them with him. The other two pairs he left on our dressing table, with instructions that they were for his daughters.”

“How did he know I wouldn’t be a son?” Louise rose, taking the teapot with her. She filled it with water from the steaming kettle, added tealeaves and, holding the hot pot between two tea towels, made her way back to the table. She set the pot down near the velvet pouch, where the aroma of Ceylon tea wafted into the air. “I could just have easily been a boy. I am shocked he didn’t take two sets with him, leaving just the one set for Elise.”

“I’m not. We knew you were a girl, my dear. We had a sense about it, just by the way you made me feel and by how—” She giggled, sounding almost like a young bride again. Fond memories erased lines from her face. “Well, I carried you high, just like I’d done with Elise. A bubble belly, that’s what we called my new shape, so we had an inkling you were a second daughter. We hoped for another sweet girl, and were rewarded when our hopes became reality. Not that your father was here when you were born…”

Elise exchanged glances with Louise. Their mother seemed on the verge of a new crying wave, so they spoke concurrently.

“What about—” Louise began.

“About the legend—” Elise abruptly stopped, then shook her head and smiled. “Can you tell we’re anxious to hear more, Mother? Please, tell us again about the pearls. I fear we were all too upset with the first telling to have listened properly.”

Louise poured tea with enough dexterity to flabbergast Elise. When her sister pushed the sugar bowl her way, Elise gave a polite nod. The transformation left her speechless.

Fortunately, Genevieve had no such issue. She took a deep breath, blew a ribbon of steam away from the top of her mug, and then leaned forward. That she relished the telling of the tale this time was no secret, and both sisters gave her their full attention.

“Your grandfather bought the earrings from an elderly Arabian gentleman. The earrings were in his family for generations, and he only sold them because his family had fallen on hard times.”

“So sad,” Elise said.

“Very. But fortunate for your grandfather, who purchased the four sets of earrings as soon as he heard the legend surrounding them. The Arabian gentleman said that the pearls in the earrings were magical, the product of a ruse the moon played on the oysters in the sea. It is said that the moon over the seashore is so brilliant, so alluring, it is capable of luring all sorts of creatures—oysters included—from the water. Once on land, the dewdrops from the moon’s descent as the sun wakes are delicious beyond imagining. The oysters cannot help but open their mouths, hoping to catch a precious dewdrop. Of course, the drop of moisture from the moon is magical, and once it’s taken in it becomes something even more precious.”

“A pearl.” Louise fingered one earring with her left hand, raising the tea to her mouth with the other. She sipped, swallowed, then said, “Or in this case, eight pearls.”

“Exactly.” Genevieve sat back, looked from one daughter to the other with a solemn expression on her weary face. “So you see, my dear girls, this gift from your father is priceless. And while I made plenty of mistakes where he was concerned, he did not let either of you down during his lifetime. I am inclined to think he held you close in his heart. Otherwise, why would it mean so much to this Emmaline Byrd that the earrings be returned and his disposition learned?”

Elise had been wondering the exact same thing. Why now, after their father had passed on, had Emmaline contacted her? What was her motivation? More importantly, what did she hope to accomplish?

****

“She is not coming back.”

Emmaline’s needlework hit the sewing basket, threads flying, tangling and finally fluttering into a jumbled mess. For the past hour, she had pretended to work on the piece, absently filling in a stitch or two before looking expectantly at the sitting room doorway. The effort required for the charade had taken its toll.

Now she made no pretense, and when she muttered the statement still again, Hugh swallowed a retort.

She is old, and expects the moon
, he reminded himself.
Have patience.

“Did you hear what I said, Hugh?” She did not wait for him to reply. “I said she is not—”

“Yes, yes, I heard you. You’ve said it so many times I swear I will hear you in my sleep, Emmaline.”