“Neither will staying away,” Cynthia complained. She placed a loving kiss on her mother’s cheek and plopped down on the sofa where she buried her face in her hands. “I am done for, Mama.”
“I am sorry,” Wilhelmina said with a sigh. She gestured for Betsy to bring one more cup. “It will pass, but it will do so quicker if you sever your ties with me completely for the next few weeks. The trial is still very fresh in everyone’s minds.”
Betsy returned with a cup and saucer and promptly departed once more so mother and daughter could speak in private. Wilhelmina prepared both cups and handed one to Cynthia whose misery was written all over her pretty face. “I wouldn’t have cared if the whole world loathed me as long as Michael and I were together, but now I shan’t even have him.”
Cynthia took a deep breath and expelled it. Apparently this had something to do with a man, and while Wilhelmina desired nothing more than for her daughter to fall in love again and remarry, finding a man who accepted who her mother was might not be easy. “My pet, I don’t know who this Michael is, but he must be rather dear to you if you’re using his Christian name. That said, if he has cut ties with you because of your connection to me, then—”
“It is not him, Mama. It is his father.” Cynthia’s eyes swam with heartfelt emotion as she gazed back at Wilhelmina. “Michael proposed and I accepted, but Mr. Dale has denied us his blessing. Worse, he has forbidden Michael from seeing me.”
Wilhelmina’s hands jerked. The teacup she held clinked sharply against her saucer. It was a good thing she was sitting down or she might have crumpled beneath the weight of those words and the name of the man who now barred her daughter from happiness. He’d been at her trial – a dark imposing figure of righteousness glaring at her from the back of the courtroom. His hatred for her had been palpable, as had his reason for being in attendance. He’d wanted to witness her total destruction.
Her heart pounded hard against her breast as she recognized what she would have to do for her daughter. Setting her cup and saucer aside with a clatter, she clasped her hands in her lap to stop them from trembling. When she’d met Mr. Dale at the Pennington ball, he’d struck her as a serious and sensible person. He was a barrister after all, the sort of man for whom logical reasoning ought to have merit, so if she could just make her case on Cynthia’s behalf, surely he’d listen.
“I had no idea you’d formed an attachment,” she began. “If Michael has proposed and you have accepted, I presume you’ve known him a while.”
“He and I were actually introduced to each other at the Pennington ball two years ago. We danced, shortly before you and George staged the instigating moment of your separation. I’d recently married Henry though and was deeply in love with him, so nothing came of my meeting Michael besides a bit of fun conversation. Then, after Henry died and I felt as though I was stuck in a hole I couldn’t crawl out of, I crossed paths with Michael again. It was on the street – a fleeting encounter. He was on his way to the Old Bailey to meet his father while I had an appointment with Henry’s solicitor, Mr. Rendell. The will had been read the previous week and I wished to seek his advice on a few legalities.”
“George could have helped you with that, I’m sure.”
“He was rather busy at the time with legal issues of his own.”
Wilhelmina closed her eyes briefly. Three trials were necessary in order to acquire the sort of divorce they’d wanted – the kind where entering into another marriage afterward would be possible. The first, divortium a mensa et thoro, resulted in separation from bed and board, the next involved a criminal conviction placed against her, and finally, a Private Act of Divorcement had to be brought before Parliament to fully dissolve the marriage. She and George had been in the middle of their divortium a mensa et thoro when Henry died. Consequently, Cynthia was forced to suffer her grief and all the potential problems the death of a spouse incurred mostly alone.
Reminding the public of her connection to Cynthia and George could have harmed not only herself but Henry’s family as well.
“I’m sorry,” Wilhelmina whispered as fresh tears welled in her eyes. “I’m so terribly sorry for what George and I put you through.”
“Don’t be.” Cynthia gave Wilhelmina a watery smile. “It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way and it’s not your fault that it did. I was meant to have Henry to lean on. His death was so unexpected.”
“And you were forced to endure his loss while George and I made a spectacle of our marriage.”
“George deserves to be with the woman he loves and to make sure the children he and Fiona have are legitimate. It was right of you to help him as you did.”
“I never would have done it at the expense of your happiness.” Wilhelmina shook her head. With Henry dead and Mr. Dale refusing to let his son wed her daughter because of her, the repercussion of the divorce was turning out to be truly formidable.
“Then it is a good thing you were unable to predict the future.”
“How can you say that when you are now being denied the man you love?”
Cynthia placed her hand over Wilhelmina’s. “Because it doesn’t change how much I admire you for giving up your own social standing for George – for being willing to face persecution from your peers in the name of a cause you believe in. Mama, you are without a doubt the bravest woman I have ever known.”
Undone by her daughter’s words, Wilhelmina swiped away the dampness from her eyes. “I do not feel very brave at the moment. Indeed, I was in the process of putting myself back together again when you arrived.”
“Why? What happened?” Concern puckered Cynthia’s brow.
Unwilling to add to her worries, Wilhelmina shook her head. “I just need a little time to adjust, that is all. It is difficult, accepting George’s absence. Even if he and I have kept our distance from one another since the first trial began, I knew he wasn’t far. It is strange knowing he’s presently moving farther and farther away with each moment. But I refuse to sit here feeling sorry for myself. It’s not in my nature.”
Cynthia gave her hands a squeeze before removing her own. She straightened her spine and angled her head. “No. It’s not.”
“So.” Wilhelmina squared her shoulders and picked up her teacup. Cynthia needed her, and this gave her something concrete to focus her energy on besides her own problems and frayed emotions. She sipped her tea and regarded her daughter. “I shall call on Mr. Dale and see if I can change his mind.”
Exhausted after a difficult trial in which his client’s claim to the land he’d recently purchased was being contested, James plodded up the steps to his front door and entered his home. God, it would be good to relax in the quiet of his study while savoring the silence he was allowed to enjoy within these walls. All the shouting and protesting he’d encountered in court had brought on a headache, so he looked forward to reclining in his favorite chair while a cool compress soothed the pain.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Atkins said. The butler held out his hand and took James’s hat and gloves.
“Good afternoon,” James replied. “Is my son at home?”