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He remained silent.
She rushed ahead, her face hot from the fire. “You handed me that hammer, and I know you were asking me to demolish more than plaster. You wanted me to be able to express my anger and to listen to my inner voice. I finally know that I’ll never be able to please my mother, or society, or the world, and so now I can do what pleases me. And what pleases me is to be with you.”
Why wouldn’t he speak? She turned around. And that’s when she saw it.
The trunk, packed and ready by the door.
She hadn’t even noticed when she arrived—Ford had his coat on, and his boots.
“You’re leaving?”
He bowed his head. “Yes.”
“Right now?”
“It’s for the best.”
“But... why? Without saying goodbye to me?”
His face was impassive and stubborn. “I was always leaving, Beatrice.”
“I know that. I... I didn’t think you’d leave without saying farewell.”
“You know I want to stay, Beatrice. You also know that I can’t. Your mother, your family, this entire society would never approve of a match between us.”
“Oh, so now you care about the rules of propriety?”
“This thing between us, this thing we’ve beenbuilding, it wouldn’t survive the storm of scandal. I’d be labeled a fortune hunter and you’d be labeled as ruined, lowered, even lost.”
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t care now, but what about two years from now. Ten? When your mother still won’t speak to you, when you’ve lost the life you knew.”
“But we renovated this house together, and we found ourselves in the process. Now you’ll throw me away like you threw my bonnet into the street because I don’t suit you anymore? You said that you never leave a job unfinished. What about us? Don’t leave us unfinished.”
“I’ve done what I was contracted to do.”
She couldn’t believe he was saying these cold, heartless things. It was so sudden, almost like he was a different person. Not even a hint of that charming, smiling rogue. “I thought... I thought you cared. Why did you build me those bookshelves?”
“I built you the bookshelves because I want you to be happy. I think you should live here in London instead of retiring to Cornwall. Don’t deprive the world of your light.”
To go from such happiness, such bliss, to this nightmare.
She had knowingly walked into this trap, just like one of Daphne Villeneuve’s heroines.
She’d walked right in, drunk on newly discovered power. Intoxicated by his kisses and the tenderness she’d thought she’d seen in his eyes.
Now his eyes held only anguish. She had to know what had happened to transform him so completely.
Somethinghad happened.
“During our waltz you said you loved me . . . well, you didn’t really say it but you agreed when I said it, and now it’s as though a wall of thorns sprang up to cover your face, your eyes.”
“I saw reality, Beatrice. I saw the disparity between our worlds. You would grow to resent me if I tore your family apart. Your mother would never accept me and to have that rift be my fault—you might think it’s worth the pain now, but I know from experience that my mother never healed completely.”
“Our situation is different. You’re not your father, Ford.”
No, he wasn’t his father. And that meant he wasn’t going to selfishly and blindly claim her love no matter the cost. Beatrice’s mother had made it very clear that she considered him to be totally unworthy of her precious daughter.
