My Dearest Enemy (34 page)

She'd probably begun loving him soon after their correspondence had begun, she thought. He'd taken up every gauntlet she'd thrown, discussed wholeheartedly any subject she raised. And though he'd often irritated and purposefully provoked her, once engaged in a debate he never treated her opinions with condescension.

Indeed, his respect for her had been evident with every written word. He'd never ignored her observations or discounted her opinions because of her gender. Yes, he sometimes discounted them because of what he perceived to be faulty reasoning or misjudgement or what he termed her "pigheaded obstinacy." But he'd never dismissed
her
.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, her shivering having subsided, leaving only emptiness. All lost. All gone.

"Lily?" She heard Francesca.

"Yes?" She didn't bother turning.

"Lily." An elegant hand clasped her wrist and gently turned her about. "Lily, you must listen to me now," Francesca said. "I'm going away this evening. In fact, I'm going in a few minutes."

"Yes?" Lily said disinterestedly. Francesca often left on the spur of the moment and stayed away for weeks, sometimes months, only to return just as spontaneously.

"I can't help you rebuild the stables," Francesca said. "I won't lie and say I couldn't if I—"

"I would never ask you to!" Lily exclaimed, drawn out of her torpor.

"That's not the point, Lily," Francesca said. "I know you would not ask and I also know that should I offer you would likely not accept."

But I would, thought Lily dismally, I have so little left, what do a few shreds of pride matter?

Francesca placed both her hands on Lily's shoulders, gazing steadily into her face. "If I were to scrape together most of my wealth I would be able to make you a loan to rebuild. But I won't. I need it"—her fingers tightened on Lily's shoulders—"for me. I need to live the way I do."

"Yes," Lily agreed.

"Lily." Strain marked the corners of Francesca's mouth. "All I have are my certain pleasures. Do you understand?"

She didn't, but Lily nodded anyway, answering the older woman's plea rather than her words.

"You have so much, Lily."

Lily shrugged out of the other woman's grip. "Why yes," she said trying to laugh, hearing only bitterness. "Yes. I'm a regular tycoon."

Francesca shook her head, searching for words. "You still have dreams. You still have a future. I've spent both humiliating my father and I'll end a fool wasting my life trying to embarrass a corpse."

"I have nothing, Francesca—"

"The boy is in love with you, Lily."

"Bernard?" Lily asked wearily. "Puppy love. He'll get over it. I'll be careful of him."

"Not Bernard. Avery."

She couldn't speak.

"No. That's wrong." Francesca's voice sounded sad and musing. "Not
in
love," she whispered. "He loves you. Simply. Deeply. Unhappily."

"You must be mistaken."

"Sometimes you're allowed only one chance, only a second, to decide the course of your life. Don't be distracted by your pride, Lily. Or your common sense. Or your past. Or anything that keeps you from…" She let out a little laugh that turned into a sob. "Eden. I'd go find the lad, Lily. I swear to you, I would."

She turned away, moving down the hall murmuring, "And she says she has nothing…"

"I don't know what we can do now," Polly whispered to Evelyn. They were ensconced on the divan in the sitting room ostensibly tatting lace together while Bernard, on the other side of the room, was engrossed in a book.

"Mill House isn't a good setting for romance these days," Polly agreed. "Stables burning tend to dispel a cuddlesome mood. Those two have been treading round each other like two tomcats in one barn. I think we can forget any notion that Miss Bede and Mr. Thorne will"—she glanced at Bernard, who was concentrating fiercely on a huge leather bound tome— "get friendly."

Evelyn shook her head. "I had such hopes but perhaps for Lily's sake, this is for the best."

"Nonsense," Polly said so emphatically that Evelyn glanced at Bernard, giving the little woman a warning shake of her head.

Polly colored but the tilt of her chin told Evelyn she was about to commit herself to some action or opinion.

"If Miss Bede loves this chap," she said, "and he seems a decent chap, but she does nothing about it, it will be…
wrong
." She paused and cleared her throat. "Love is not a reward, it is a chance. A chance to be something more. When that chance is offered to a man or a woman, it has to be accepted, no matter what the risks. Love is important, Evelyn."

She lifted her gaze, embarrassed and caught for a minute exposed by her words. "Do you understand?"

Slowly, Evelyn nodded. "Yes."

"Do you agree?"

"Yes." Her voice was stronger now.

"Good." Polly released her breath and her momentary vulnerability disappeared behind an expression of consternation. "Miss Thorne was the most obvious person to goad Miss Bede into realizing this, but she's decamped and no one in this room is equipped by nature or experience to play Cupid."

"Too true," Evelyn sighed. "Whatever shall we do?"

Polly clapped her palms against her thighs. Bernard looked up.

"Oh, don't worry about dropping the occasional knot, Miss Makepeace," Evelyn said loudly. "You're doing splendidly well." She lowered her voice. "Quiet. Bernard would
so
disapprove if he knew what we were up to."

Polly nodded her understanding. "Right-o," she whispered. "Back to Miss Bede. The first order of business is to figure out what her plans are for the immediate future. Would you ask her to come in here, Evelyn?"

"Of course," Evelyn agreed, rising and casting a quick furtive glance in her son's direction. Bernard turned the page of his book.

She went directly to Lily's room and tapped discreetly on the door but no one answered. Thinking Lily might be in the library, she started up the stairs when she heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor overhead. She paused, considering who it might be.

Avery had taken a room up there, but the sound was too light to be his. It was far too late for Merry or Kathy to be working and besides, Teresa and her twins held nightly court and would not look kindly on any absentees. That left only Lily.

Lily
? Evelyn had to know if she was right. Slowly, carefully, Evelyn climbed to the third floor. Cau-tiously she peeked around the corner and peered down the dimly lit hall.

Lily paced nervously to and fro in front of the door to Avery Thorne's bedchamber, twisting her hands anxiously and muttering to herself. Every now and then she'd suddenly stop, square her shoulders, and stare resolutely at the closed door. Then, just as abruptly, her shoulders slumped, and she commenced pacing again.

Whyever would Lily—?

But of course!

The smile spreading rapidly across Evelyn's face abruptly froze. The girl would never do… anything… what with the lot of them cluttering the house. Well then, Evelyn thought with a decisiveness quite foreign to her, they would simply have to vacate the house—noisily and with equally noisy assurances of not returning soon.

Lifting her skirts, Evelyn tiptoed quickly down the stairs and, upon reaching the main floor, for first time since girlhood ran. Snatching her bonnet and cape from the hall tree she flew to the sitting room and burst in.

"What is it? Evelyn?" Startled, Polly began to rise oblivious of the cast she wore.

"We—we need to go to—to town," Evelyn panted.

At this Bernard looked up. "Little Henty?" he asked naming the crossroads that boasted a pub-cum-inn, a greengrocer's, and a dry goods shop. "Whyever for?"

"Not Little Henty. Cleave Cross," Evelyn said.

"But Cleave Cross is twenty miles away," Bernard said in astonishment. "It's eight o'clock at night. Can't we go in the morning?"

"No. I want to be there first light to see the dawn on the harbor. It's a sort of holiday for—for Miss Makepeace."

Polly's eyes widened incredulously.

"She's dreary sitting about here and what with that nauseous smell of wet ash she's bound to feel dismal. Aren't you, dear?"

"Ah," Polly uttered, her mouth gaping. "Yes."

"See, Bernard? Now go and pack a valise, just an overnight bag will do and then find Hob."

"Oh, all right," Bernard said unfolding his long lanky form from the chair and tossing down his book. "I'll tell Miss Bede to get ready, too."

"No!" Evelyn shouted and then smiled nervously at Bernard's astonished expression. "I mean, no that won't be necessary. Miss Bede will not be going."

"Oh?"

"She is having the carpenters in to see about rebuilding the stable tomorrow."

"And Cousin Avery?" Bernard asked, a hint of suspicion coloring his tone.

"He's staying, too," Evelyn said smoothly. Once having lied, she discovered additional lies tripped out of one's mouth rather winningly. "Surely you realize that he will be incurring the cost of rebuilding, Ber-nard. Of course he will want to stay and help make whatever decisions need be made."

She spoke with far more authority than usual and she could see her manner perplexed Bernard. Silently she prayed he didn't push her too much. There were only so many hurdles she could leap in one day and she felt that for this particular day she'd leapt more than her share.

For a minute he studied her before finally, with what looked like a shrug, making a polite bow in Polly's direction. "I'll get my bag."

Twenty minutes later Bernard, Polly, and Evelyn stood in the center hall making blaringly clear their intentions of spending the night away from Mill House.

It sounded as if the furies were departing their lair. Doors slammed, voices called out instructions, and boot heels clattered across floor boards. Venturing out to the top of the stairs, Avery found Merry hastening down the steps, her belly swaying from side to side, a pair of women's boots in one hand and a traveling medicine chest in the other.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"They've gone mad is what's going on!" she said, looking up. "Takin' into their silly heads to go off to Cleave Cross."