Triumph. Total victory beyond his best expectations. Revenge complete. She would suffer from rejection and humiliation as he had suffered. She would suffer from unrequited love as he had suffered. She would suffer from an uncontrollable hatred as he had suffered.
She would know darkness. Darkness that fought and fought against the light and threatened always to put it out.
He turned his head sharply and looked at the candle on the table. It was out although it had not completely burned down. A single candle snuffed. The fire was dying down and dusk was beginning to settle beyond the windows.
He set both hands over his face. After a few minutes he rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face and hands in the pillows.
Chapter 15
It was the day after Christmas. Not at all the time to think of work. Several of the villagers called at the homes as soon as they knew that the children had returned, bringing food offerings and stories of Christmas, and bringing with them ears to be filled with the children's own accounts of the holiday.
She was not to think that they lived normally in such chaos and in such decadent luxury, Mr. Cornwell told Amy with a smile. The following day they would be back to work, the boys spending the morning with the rector having a Bible lesson, the girls stitching with Mrs. Harrison.
"And you must not believe that my boys will run straight to perdition while I walk home with you," he told her. "There are plenty of adults to keep a friendly eye on them, and a few who will keep a firm hand on them if necessary.''
"It is very kind of you," Amy said. "But I did not intend to give you an extra two-mile walk."
He patted his rather round middle. "After the rich foods of the past two or three days," he said, "I think perhaps I should have a two-mile walk every hour, Amy."
She laughed. The children walked ahead of them, Kate holding Rupert's hand and looking up occasionally to show interest in the long story he appeared to be telling her.
"Lovely children," Mr. Cornwell said. "Nicely behaved. It is a pity they lost their father so young."
"Yes," she said. "They look very like my brother. He was a handsome man."
"But Mrs. Easton is young," he said. "Doubtless they will have another Papa soon. Will you mind?"
"No," she said. "I love Judith as if she were my real sister."
"You will still live with her when she remarries?" he asked. "Have you made a final decision?"
"No." She spoke quite firmly. "But not with Judith. That would not be fair."
"But not with your family again," he said. He patted her hand as it rested on his arm. "They overprotected you, Amy."
"I am afraid they did," she said. "Since I have been away from them, I have found people to be very kind. I am not treated like some sort of monster after all."
He clucked his tongue. "Did you expect to be?" he asked. "Did you really expect to be?"
She smiled. "All three of my brothers are unusually handsome men," she said. "I believe all my family acted out of the wish to protect me. I suppose I came to believe that some terrible disaster would befall me if I left the nest. I am glad that Judith persuaded me to do so."
"But you may go back to them?" he asked.
“I don't know,'' she said. ' T have made no definite plans for the future."
They were halfway along the driveway already. Soon they would be at the house. The next day his boys and he would be back at work again and unlikely to come near Denbigh Park. And she would have no further excuse to visit them. Time passed so quickly, she mought, and remembered a time not so long in the past when she had believed just the opposite.
"I wish…" he said, and stopped. "I wish you would meet some gentleman you could be fond of, Amy. Someone with a comfortable home and fortune. Someone with whom you could spend your remaining years in contentment."
Her throat ached as if she had just run for a mile without stopping. “I once dreamed of it," she said, “of a home and children of my own and a modest place in society. I no longer care much for the home and it is too late for the children. But I would still like to belong somewhere, to feel wanted and needed. To feel useful. But I count my blessings every day of my life."
"Ah," he said. "To feel useful. I can understand that need,
Amy. It is the way I felt before Max and I dreamed up our plan for our children's homes."
"Yes," she said, "and you found your dream. How I envy you."
They had reached the house. Rupert and Amy turned to look at them and Mr. Cornwell waved them on toward the doors.
"Run inside and get warm," he said.
"Will you come in and warm yourself before returning?" she asked.
"No." He patted her hand. "If I do that, Max will insist on calling out a sleigh or a carriage, as like as not and I will not get the exercise I need."
"Thank you for walking with me," she said as he took her hand in both of his and held it. “It has been a wonderful Christmas, has it not? The best I can ever remember."
"And for me too," he said, raising her hand to his lips. "You will be here for a few more days, Amy? Perhaps I will see you again before you leave. If I do not, have a safe journey home. I shall always hope that you find what you deserve in life. I'll never forget you."
She bit her lip. "Or I you," she said. Andinarush, "You are the first friend I have ever had outside the family."
"Am I?" He smiled at her. "Then I am deeply honored. And I shall hope always to be your friend. Perhaps if your sister-in-law and Max…"He smiled and shrugged. "Then perhaps we would meet again."
She nodded.
"Amy," he said softly, "it would not work. Believe me, it would not. You are a lady and brought up to the life of a lady."
An empty, empty, empty life, she thought, concentrating on their clasped hands. She nodded.
"I think maybe I should not come here in the next few days," he said.
She nodded again.
"Good-bye, then, my dear," he said after a pause. "For the first time in more than two years I wish things could be a little different, but they cannot."
She looked up into his face. "I wish it too," she said. "I wish other people did not always always know what is best for me. Is it my size, I wonder? Is it because I look so much like a child to be protected?" She withdrew her hand from his. "Good-bye, Spencer. Thank you for these few days. I cannot tell you all they have meant to me."
And she turned about and was gone up the steps and into the house before he could even return his arms to his sides. He stood for a long time frowning after her.
The Marquess of Denbigh was standing in the great hall when the two children came inside alone. He raised his eyebrows and looked at them.
“We just came home from the village,'' Rupert explained to him. "Aunt Amy is outside with Mr. Cornwell. Mr. and Mrs. Rundle came visiting and Mr. Rundle said he once met my papa. He said that papa liked to watch all the mills outside town, but Mrs. Rundle would not let him tell me about them. I think it was because ladies do not like to watch mills. Do they?"
"It is not considered a genteel sport for ladies," the marquess said, noticing that the little girl looked tired. She clung to her brother's hand and gazed upward at him with those dark eyes, which were going to fell a large number of young bucks when she was fifteen or sixteen years older. He smiled at her. "They do not derive much enjoyment from watching noses get bloodied. Don't ask me why."