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“You’re eating for two now. ’Tis natural to require more.”
Require more.
Elizabeth’s phrase recalled Daphne’s original purpose in sending for her mother.
Thoughtfully, she lay down her fork. “Mama, do you remember the morning I confided Pierce’s proposal to you?”
“Of course.”
“You said some things to me—things that implied you’d experienced a situation in which you allowed your heart to be silenced, and that you now regretted that decision. Do you recall?”
Elizabeth lowered her gaze, stroked the edge of the bedcovers. “Yes, I recall.”
“ ’Tis none of my business, but I must ask you anyway. Did that situation involve Mr. Chambers?”
Startled, Elizabeth’s gaze lifted. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t. Pierce guessed. He’s an incredibly insightful man.” Daphne leaned forward. “Did you love him, Mama?”
A painful nod. “Yes. Very much.”
“And he loved you.” Daphne needed no confirmation. “What happened? Why did you marry Father? How could you—” She broke off.
“How could I choose a hateful man like your father over a fine man like Alfred?” Elizabeth sighed, staring off into space. “I wonder if you know how many times I’ve asked myself that over the years. Perhaps the Lord meant it to be this way so I might bring you into the world.”
“Thank you,” Daphne whispered. “But that’s not an answer. When you wed Father you had no notion what children the marriage might produce. So why?”
Slowly, Elizabeth rose, went to stand by the window. “I was fifteen when I met Alfred. He was three and twenty. There was a small gathering in our village to honor the new parish church. I attended with my parents. He was present, not as an established official, but as a young clergyman who was deeply committed to people and to God. I believe we fell in love the instant we met.” A pause. “Unfortunately, my parents had no intention of allowing their only daughter to throw her life away on a poor vicar whose ambitions were rooted in ideals rather than gold. If Alfred had been willing to further himself through the right channels, if he’d been seeking a future as a high-ranking Church official, then, perhaps they would have reconsidered. But he wasn’t, and they didn’t. Your father was introduced to me the next summer, during my first London Season. He was wealthy, titled, and successful. He asked for my hand; my father gave it.”
“But what about the vicar?”
“Alfred held me while I cried, soothed me when I confessed my fear of defying my parents. And then he let me go.” Elizabeth dabbed at her eyes. “It was the single most selfless gesture I’ve ever seen.”
Daphne swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Had the two of you plans to marry?”
“Without question. We’d spent hours visualizing our life together the cottage we’d share, filled with our children; the gardens we’d plant, flourishing with yellow roses. Yellow roses,” Elizabeth’s voice quavered, “were Alfred’s special gift to me. He brought a bouquet of them each time he visited. They came to signify the beauty of our love.”
Another reality struck. Raising her left hand, Daphne studied the delicate scrap of silver adorning her fourth finger. “This ring, the one the vicar bestowed upon us so Pierce and I might seal our vows—”
Elizabeth’s smile was tremulous. “That was Alfred’s sensitive way of passing on the miracle of our love. Whatever we were denied, he prayed God would grant you and Pierce.?
?
“Oh, Mama. Then initially he intended it for you.”
“Yes.” A choked sound. “Daphne, I loved him deeply, as he did me. But I just couldn’t—I wasn’t strong enough.” Elizabeth buried her face in her hands.
“I’m so sorry.” Daphne slipped off the bed and went to her mother, embracing her as if to absorb her pain.
“I shouldn’t be crying. ’Twas so long ago.”
“But it wasn’t. You love him still. And he loves you.”
Silence. Then, Elizabeth raised her head, dashing tears from her cheeks. “Some feelings never alter, I suppose, no matter how much better ’twould be for everyone if they would. You’re right. Alfred’s and my love has never faded. But neither have the restrictions that for more than a score of years have kept us apart. I was, and continue to be, Harwick’s wife.”
“Once, perhaps,” Daphne amended. “But now? You’re Father’s wife in name alone. You’re no longer even living in his house.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that he and I exchanged vows. And neither Alfred nor I will cheapen our love by betraying those vows. In the sight of God and man, I belong to Harwick.”
