her. She knocked quietly on her step-mother’s
bedroom door.
“Come in, Calista.”
Evelyn was sitting up in bed. She too
looked tired, but she also looked very beautiful. “I’m sorry I kept you
waiting,” said Calista. She went to sit on the edge of the bed.
“I understand. One does not ignore a
command from Lady Bedlington. I cannot always work her out. One moment she is
all kindness. The next … well, she has the sting of a scorpion. Though I do
believe her kindness always wins out. What did she wish to see you about? Or is
that yet another secret you are sworn to keep.”
“I do not think it is a secret. She is
afraid of something, as you are. Anything other than that, I cannot tell you.
It is rather nebulous, and yet …”
“And yet you do not doubt her fears.”
“No. Nor yours. If you are tired, I
could come back in the morning.” For reasons Calista could not fathom, suddenly
she did not want to know Evelyn’s secret. The truth was a frightening prospect.
The truth, she felt, might tear their lives apart, though she had no idea why
that might be.
“You do not want to know?”
“Yes, of course.” Calista took Evelyn’s
hand in hers. “Of course, but only if you wish to tell me.”
“It is rather a long story. Or perhaps
it is not. I could just blurt out a simple fact and have it over with. Only …
only I want you to understand that I did not feel at the time that I did
anything wrong. I was in love.”
“With Mr. Benedict?”
“Yes. With Mr. Benedict. Harry and I
grew up together. We were childhood sweethearts, with all the innocent pursuits
that entails. Then …” Evelyn paused. “Then we were not so innocent. I was
seventeen and he was eighteen and we were in love. Nothing seemed wrong then.
Can you understand that? Regardless of what society says, or what the bible
says, nothing seemed wrong to us. Because we loved each other. Do you
understand what I’m trying to tell you?”
“I think so,” said Calista.
“But Harry had to go away to university
and I did not want to hold him back. He is every bit as talented an architect
as your father. So he went off to Oxford. I waited for him to write to me, but
he did not. I sent him dozens of notes, declaring my love, but heard nothing.
When my father announced that Mr. Kirkham had asked for my hand in marriage, I
agreed. More out of anger than anything. I was sure Harry had forgotten
about me and found a new love. Or perhaps lots of new loves. So I married Mr. Kirkham.
Even then, with everything that had happened, I was an innocent. So when I
found out I was expecting Blanche, I told my husband, thinking he would be
pleased. Sadly he was better at arithmetic than I was.”
“What do you mean?”
Evelyn lowered her voice. “I mean
Blanche could not possibly be his child. She is Harry’s.”
“Oh.”
“Now I have lost you.”
“No, please do not think that. I am
surprised, but not shocked or outraged. You must have loved Mr. Benedict very
much.”
“I did. Of course, my husband could not
divorce me without bringing shame upon himself. But he never let me forget my
own shame, and he never … I feel embarrassed telling you this, considering I
have told you so much. He never touched me again. In public he would be a
doting husband, but at home I would have to endure a dozen slights every day.
That is the atmosphere in which Blanche grew up. She has no respect for me,
because her father, perhaps reasonably, had no respect for me.”
“I am so sorry you’ve suffered so much.”
“Not always. I want you to know that I
did not deceive your father. When he asked for my hand in marriage, I told him
the truth about everything. I was sure he would say he did not want to marry
me. When he said it did not matter, I still refused, convinced he would change
once we were married. He remained constant and true, asking me time and again
to be his wife. So much so that what was a fondness for him changed to deep and
abiding love.
bedroom door.
“Come in, Calista.”
Evelyn was sitting up in bed. She too
looked tired, but she also looked very beautiful. “I’m sorry I kept you
waiting,” said Calista. She went to sit on the edge of the bed.
“I understand. One does not ignore a
command from Lady Bedlington. I cannot always work her out. One moment she is
all kindness. The next … well, she has the sting of a scorpion. Though I do
believe her kindness always wins out. What did she wish to see you about? Or is
that yet another secret you are sworn to keep.”
“I do not think it is a secret. She is
afraid of something, as you are. Anything other than that, I cannot tell you.
It is rather nebulous, and yet …”
“And yet you do not doubt her fears.”
“No. Nor yours. If you are tired, I
could come back in the morning.” For reasons Calista could not fathom, suddenly
she did not want to know Evelyn’s secret. The truth was a frightening prospect.
The truth, she felt, might tear their lives apart, though she had no idea why
that might be.
“You do not want to know?”
“Yes, of course.” Calista took Evelyn’s
hand in hers. “Of course, but only if you wish to tell me.”
“It is rather a long story. Or perhaps
it is not. I could just blurt out a simple fact and have it over with. Only …
only I want you to understand that I did not feel at the time that I did
anything wrong. I was in love.”
“With Mr. Benedict?”
“Yes. With Mr. Benedict. Harry and I
grew up together. We were childhood sweethearts, with all the innocent pursuits
that entails. Then …” Evelyn paused. “Then we were not so innocent. I was
seventeen and he was eighteen and we were in love. Nothing seemed wrong then.
Can you understand that? Regardless of what society says, or what the bible
says, nothing seemed wrong to us. Because we loved each other. Do you
understand what I’m trying to tell you?”
“I think so,” said Calista.
“But Harry had to go away to university
and I did not want to hold him back. He is every bit as talented an architect
as your father. So he went off to Oxford. I waited for him to write to me, but
he did not. I sent him dozens of notes, declaring my love, but heard nothing.
When my father announced that Mr. Kirkham had asked for my hand in marriage, I
agreed. More out of anger than anything. I was sure Harry had forgotten
about me and found a new love. Or perhaps lots of new loves. So I married Mr. Kirkham.
Even then, with everything that had happened, I was an innocent. So when I
found out I was expecting Blanche, I told my husband, thinking he would be
pleased. Sadly he was better at arithmetic than I was.”
“What do you mean?”
Evelyn lowered her voice. “I mean
Blanche could not possibly be his child. She is Harry’s.”
“Oh.”
“Now I have lost you.”
“No, please do not think that. I am
surprised, but not shocked or outraged. You must have loved Mr. Benedict very
much.”
“I did. Of course, my husband could not
divorce me without bringing shame upon himself. But he never let me forget my
own shame, and he never … I feel embarrassed telling you this, considering I
have told you so much. He never touched me again. In public he would be a
doting husband, but at home I would have to endure a dozen slights every day.
That is the atmosphere in which Blanche grew up. She has no respect for me,
because her father, perhaps reasonably, had no respect for me.”
“I am so sorry you’ve suffered so much.”
“Not always. I want you to know that I
did not deceive your father. When he asked for my hand in marriage, I told him
the truth about everything. I was sure he would say he did not want to marry
me. When he said it did not matter, I still refused, convinced he would change
once we were married. He remained constant and true, asking me time and again
to be his wife. So much so that what was a fondness for him changed to deep and
abiding love.
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