created for you, it’s as if you’ve found a missing part of yourself. Until you meet him, you may never know something is missing.”
“And then the woman must give up everything, must sacrifice her own wishes and desires to do the bidding of her husband, whether it is what she wants or not.” Julia’s throat grew tighter with each passing moment; deep breathing was not going to keep her tears at bay long.
“What makes you think so? Yes, many women choose to give up their own desires to fulfill their husbands’ dreams. But just as many husbands make sacrifices to give their wives the desires of their hearts.”
Julia tried to laugh, but it came out as a high-pitched rasp. “Perhaps Collin does for you. But I know of no others.”
“Who—?”
“My father.” Julia leapt to her feet and crossed to the window beside the fireplace. She folded her arms and glared out over Susan’s beautiful back garden. “My mother pined for him, hoping he would send for her and bring her back to England. She dwindled away to a ghost of herself because she loved him so much. And he...the Royal Navy has always been his first love.”
She turned, blinking away gathering moisture. “And you—what about all of these months, these years you’ve lived in terror, not knowing if Collin was dead or alive? You cannot tell me there haven’t been times you wished you had never fallen in love.”
Sorrow clouded Susan’s sapphire eyes. “I will admit to a moment’s regret now and again at having fallen in love with a sailor , but never have I regretted loving Collin. Even the worst pain I have felt at suffering miscarriage after miscarriage, the worst fear I have endured of not knowing if Collin would come home, has been better than never having loved at all.”
Immediately contrite, Julia fell to her knees beside the settee and took Susan’s hands in her own. “I am sorry. I did not mean—please forgive me. I know love has brought you joy. But it has brought me only pain. Everyone I have loved—my brother, my mother, William—I have lost. I do not see the purpose of willfully subjecting myself to that kind of pain again.”
Susan’s mouth tilted up even as her lips trembled. “Loving does mean loss. But would you give up the joy of the time you did have with your mother and brother to avoid the pain of separation?”
Julia sat back on her heels. Give up her mother? Michael? “If I admit you might have a point, will you lord it over me for the rest of my life?”
“Most likely”
She moved back to her seat on the settee. “Tell me all about the matches Lady Dalrymple said she made last night.”
Julia’s lap became a repository for the ribbons and flowers Susan rejected as she merrily repeated the viscountess’s stories of matches made and broken, some all in the course of the evening.
Susan Yates fascinated Julia. Susan enjoyed talking about anything— Collin said she talked just to hear the sound of her own voice—and required nothing but an occasional one- or two-word response from Julia to know she was still listening. Half the time, Julia wasn’t sure what Susan was saying.
In many ways—from her seemingly constant good humor, to her forgetfulness, to her love of talking—Susan reminded Julia of Michael. If they’d had a sister—
A knock on the front door interrupted her musings. Now seated on the floor beside the low coffee table, the only notice Susan took was to say, “I wonder who that might be,” and then continue with her story.
Brisk footsteps sounded on the stairs, yet Susan talked on, tossing more ribbons and flowers at Julia. With her back to the open doors, Julia could hear but not see the guest enter the room.
Susan finally looked up and then scrambled to her feet. “Gracious! Is it past two already?” In response, the grandfather clock chimed once for half-past.
Julia shoved the pile of accoutrements from her lap onto the settee and stood to greet her friend’s guest properly.
“And then the woman must give up everything, must sacrifice her own wishes and desires to do the bidding of her husband, whether it is what she wants or not.” Julia’s throat grew tighter with each passing moment; deep breathing was not going to keep her tears at bay long.
“What makes you think so? Yes, many women choose to give up their own desires to fulfill their husbands’ dreams. But just as many husbands make sacrifices to give their wives the desires of their hearts.”
Julia tried to laugh, but it came out as a high-pitched rasp. “Perhaps Collin does for you. But I know of no others.”
“Who—?”
“My father.” Julia leapt to her feet and crossed to the window beside the fireplace. She folded her arms and glared out over Susan’s beautiful back garden. “My mother pined for him, hoping he would send for her and bring her back to England. She dwindled away to a ghost of herself because she loved him so much. And he...the Royal Navy has always been his first love.”
She turned, blinking away gathering moisture. “And you—what about all of these months, these years you’ve lived in terror, not knowing if Collin was dead or alive? You cannot tell me there haven’t been times you wished you had never fallen in love.”
Sorrow clouded Susan’s sapphire eyes. “I will admit to a moment’s regret now and again at having fallen in love with a sailor , but never have I regretted loving Collin. Even the worst pain I have felt at suffering miscarriage after miscarriage, the worst fear I have endured of not knowing if Collin would come home, has been better than never having loved at all.”
Immediately contrite, Julia fell to her knees beside the settee and took Susan’s hands in her own. “I am sorry. I did not mean—please forgive me. I know love has brought you joy. But it has brought me only pain. Everyone I have loved—my brother, my mother, William—I have lost. I do not see the purpose of willfully subjecting myself to that kind of pain again.”
Susan’s mouth tilted up even as her lips trembled. “Loving does mean loss. But would you give up the joy of the time you did have with your mother and brother to avoid the pain of separation?”
Julia sat back on her heels. Give up her mother? Michael? “If I admit you might have a point, will you lord it over me for the rest of my life?”
“Most likely”
She moved back to her seat on the settee. “Tell me all about the matches Lady Dalrymple said she made last night.”
Julia’s lap became a repository for the ribbons and flowers Susan rejected as she merrily repeated the viscountess’s stories of matches made and broken, some all in the course of the evening.
Susan Yates fascinated Julia. Susan enjoyed talking about anything— Collin said she talked just to hear the sound of her own voice—and required nothing but an occasional one- or two-word response from Julia to know she was still listening. Half the time, Julia wasn’t sure what Susan was saying.
In many ways—from her seemingly constant good humor, to her forgetfulness, to her love of talking—Susan reminded Julia of Michael. If they’d had a sister—
A knock on the front door interrupted her musings. Now seated on the floor beside the low coffee table, the only notice Susan took was to say, “I wonder who that might be,” and then continue with her story.
Brisk footsteps sounded on the stairs, yet Susan talked on, tossing more ribbons and flowers at Julia. With her back to the open doors, Julia could hear but not see the guest enter the room.
Susan finally looked up and then scrambled to her feet. “Gracious! Is it past two already?” In response, the grandfather clock chimed once for half-past.
Julia shoved the pile of accoutrements from her lap onto the settee and stood to greet her friend’s guest properly.
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