Beloved (24 page)

“I’m sorry,” Tyson said.

“For what?”

“For whatever Miss Kingston said that upset you earlier. In the barn.”

“I wasn’t upset,” she lied.

He saw through it. “Won’t you tell me what she said?”

“Nothing of any importance.” Another lie. She turned and walked into the house.

Tyson followed right behind. “Pauline Kingston isn’t always tactful.”

Oh, really?

“I appreciate that you made them feel welcome, despite her carelessness. I doubt either of them knew you were upset.”

Suddenly angry, she stopped and turned at the bottom of
the staircase. “I told you I wasn’t upset. Nothing Miss Kingston could say to me would matter in the least. She is your friend and not mine.”

“That’s all she is, Diana. A friend. And not a close one.”

“Does
she
know that?”

A frown drew his brows together. “Of course she knows.”

“Did she know when the two of you were together in India? Did she know it when she was in your bed?”

Guilt tightened his features. “That’s in the past, Diana. It’s behind me. I’d like it to be behind us. Can’t we—”

“I’m tired of pretending. Doesn’t it wear you out too? Acting as if our marriage is real when we know it’s only temporary. Pretending we feel more than we do.”

Guilt was replaced by a look of sadness in his eyes. “Perhaps it
would
make me tired, if I were pretending.” He gave her the slightest of bows. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I shall go into town for a few hours. I’ve neglected my work lately. Don’t wait supper for me. I’ll dine at the club.”

He
was in the wrong. So why did
she
feel responsible for their quarrel?

“Upchurch?”

The butler appeared seconds later. “Yes, Mr. Applegate.”

“I’m walking to town.” He moved toward the front door, opening it before Upchurch could do it for him. “Send Gibson to my office for me at eight.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tyson didn’t glance Diana’s way before he went out. The sound of the door closing caused her to wince.

“Mrs. Applegate,” the butler said into the silence, “is there anything you need, madam?”

“No, thank you, Upchurch.” Then she spun about and hurried up the stairs to her room.

Tyson had planned to walk straight to his office, but his feet carried him to the entrance of the church instead. When he entered the sanctuary—empty of people on this Thursday afternoon—sunlight filtered through the west-side stained-glass windows, the colors dancing upon dust motes that drifted in the air. He slipped into the third pew from the back on the right side of the aisle and stared at the gold cross on the altar.

Why did Pauline have to come to Idaho now, just when he thought there was hope for him and Diana? He hadn’t seen or talked to the Kingstons in four years, and when he’d left Italy he’d made it clear to Pauline that he wouldn’t be coming back. So what had possessed her to come to Idaho when she’d learned he was alive and well and running for the Senate?

But he knew the answer to that. It was a game to her. She’d lost his interest and was determined to win it back. Not because she cared about him. No, it was because she liked to win.

What had Pauline said to Diana? He didn’t know, but he could imagine. And whatever she’d said or done, Tyson couldn’t blame her for Diana’s unhappiness or the state of his marriage—as much as he would like to. He let out a slow breath, slipped off the pew seat and onto his knees, and bowed his head. Praying by his posture more than the words in his head and heart.

Perhaps it had been wrong of him to ask Diana to live with him again until he’d tried to earn her forgiveness. He’d wanted a chance to prove he could love her as Christ loved the church. Proving his love, earning her forgiveness seemed good and righteous desires.
But maybe they were selfish ones as well. They were what he wanted. What he thought was right.

What about Diana? What did she think was right? What would make her truly happy?

Nearly a month ago, on their picnic by the river, Tyson had realized that what mattered to Diana mattered to him. He’d felt God speaking to him, and he’d listened. But maybe he hadn’t listened long enough or hard enough. To God or to Diana.

I can’t force her to love me
.

There. That was a cold, hard truth: he couldn’t force his wife to love him. No matter how much he’d changed already, no matter how much he might change in the future, no matter how much he wanted his marriage to thrive, he couldn’t make Diana want or feel the same things he wanted and felt.

I’ve got to let go of her
.

He shook his head. Let go? How could he let go? He loved her. He wanted to grow old with her. He wouldn’t divorce her. God hated divorce. Society hated divorce. He would hate divorce.

Will I trust God, even if the worst I fear happens?

His breath caught, and he lifted his eyes once more to the altar cross.

Conditional trust isn’t trust, is it, Lord?

His eyes and throat burned. His lungs felt starved for air. Now that he knew what he wanted, now that he loved his wife with his whole heart, could he let go of her if God asked him to?

A rap sounded on the bedroom door. “Mrs. Applegate?”

Diana sat up on her bed and dried her eyes. “Yes, Liz?”

The door opened enough for the maid to stick her head through the opening. “That woman is here again.”

“What woman?”

“That Miss Kingston. She asked for Mr. Applegate, but when she was told he isn’t here, she asked to see you.”

“Did she say what she wanted?”

“No, ma’am, but she said it’s important.”

“Tell her I’ll be down in a moment.”

Diana waited until Liz closed the door again before she went to her dressing table and sat on the stool. Her reflection in the mirror told the truth. Her eyes were red and puffy. No amount of powder could hide that she’d been crying. Still she tried her best before heading downstairs to face Pauline.

The woman waited for Diana in the parlor, pacing back and forth near the front windows.

“Miss Kingston? What brings you back so soon?”

Pauline faced Diana, and there was fury in her eyes. “One of your employees is a thief.”

“What?” This was not what she’d expected to hear when she came down the stairs. Not even close.

“Someone stole my diamond and ruby ring. I removed it because it is uncomfortable with the gloves I wore. I left my purse there—” She pointed to the table in the entry hall. “—while we were down at the barn. That’s when someone must have taken the ring.”

Diana shook her head. “I assure you, every member of our household staff is honest and trustworthy. They would never steal from you or anyone else.”

“Don’t be naive! Of course they would steal if they had the chance. The servant class learns to steal while still in the cradle. I demand you call them out here so we can find the culprit.”

Diana couldn’t describe what she felt in that moment. It wasn’t exactly anger. It wasn’t truly courage. But whatever the feeling, it allowed her to forget her tears and uncertainty. She stiffened her
spine and lifted her chin. “I will not allow you to interrogate my staff, Miss Kingston. But if you’ll describe the ring thoroughly, we will search the house and grounds to see if we can find it.”

“You’re refusing me the right to question them?”

“I’m afraid you have no such right in this home.”

“Tyson shall hear how you’ve treated me.”

“Yes, he shall. I will tell him as soon as he returns.”

“Ooooh.” Pauline headed for the entry hall. “I despise this country. I have no idea why my brother wanted to do business with you Americans.” She disappeared from view, and a few seconds later the door slammed closed.

Diana had only a moment to feel satisfied before uncertainty rushed in. Iris Waverley had lost a bracelet the night of the supper party, and her mother still hadn’t found the chain for her glasses. And now a ring. Was it possible someone—

“Bravo, Mrs. Applegate.”

At the butler’s words, Diana spun about. “You heard?”

“I heard, madam. Might I thank you on behalf of the entire staff for your trust in us.”

“You’re welcome.” She sat on the nearby chair, hoping her sudden doubts weren’t evidenced in her tone.

Upchurch waited a short while, then bowed and excused himself.

Surely no one on their staff would have stolen the missing items. Still, it was a concern. Iris’s bracelet and Pauline’s ring were valuable, without question. Her mother’s eyeglass chain had only sentimental value, but perhaps a thief wouldn’t know that at first glance. It did glitter in the light.

Frowning, she rubbed the crease between her brows. Tyson must be told. Would he side with his wife or a former lover? A sigh escaped her. She was tired. So very, very tired.

Tyson’s words whispered in her memory:
“Perhaps it would make me tired, if I were pretending.” Wasn’t
he pretending? Weren’t they
both
pretending?

Her head ached. Hoping a cup of tea would help, she rose and walked toward the kitchen. When she pushed open the door from the butler’s pantry, the sight before her made her forget why she’d come. There was Mrs. Cuddy, leaning down, stroking Tiger’s back while the cat lapped milk from a bowl.

Mrs. Cuddy feeding the cat? Mrs. Cuddy petting the cat? Impossible!

Another woman’s voice said Diana’s name, intruding on her stunned silence. Only then did she see others were present. In a line near the other doorway stood Upchurch, Liz, Joan, and Mrs. Brown. It was the housekeeper who’d spoken to her.

Now Mrs. Brown asked, “Was there something you need, ma’am?”

When Diana still didn’t reply, an uncomfortable silence engulfed the room, and she realized whatever had been said before she entered the kitchen, it had been about her.

“Ma’am?” Mrs. Brown looked worried now.

“I’m sorry.” She gave herself a mental shake. “Yes. Yes, there
is
something. I … I would like a cup of tea.”

Mrs. Cuddy straightened and seemed to be pretending the cat wasn’t in the room. “I’ll have it ready for you in no time, Mrs. Applegate.”

Mrs. Brown gave Liz and Joan a quick glance, and the maids made hasty departures, followed soon after by the butler. Diana sat at the table in the center of the kitchen, aware that she’d surprised these two women a second time by staying in the room.

Tiger finished the milk in the bowl, then made a circle around Mrs. Cuddy’s skirts before meandering over to where her mistress sat. Diana leaned down and lifted the cat onto her lap. “Aren’t you
rather pleased with yourself?” she whispered. “I guess Mrs. Cuddy doesn’t think you have fleas anymore.”

Mrs. Brown looked her way. “I’m sorry. What was that, Mrs. Applegate?”

“Nothing.” Diana shook her head. “I was … talking to myself.”

Mrs. Cuddy turned away from the stove. “It’s no wonder, Mrs. Applegate. That Miss Kingston would make me talk to myself too. And I want to thank you for giving her a piece of your mind.”

But what if I’m wrong about one of you?
The headache worsened.
What if Pauline Kingston is right?

Tyson paid little heed to the passage of time as he sat in the church sanctuary, praying, wrestling with his feelings, struggling with what he believed God spoke to his heart versus what he wanted on his own. But eventually he noticed the change in the light filtering through the windows. Hours must have escaped him in this quiet, holy place. He left the church and hurried through town to his campaign office, arriving just as the Applegate carriage came into view.

Gibson saw Tyson standing near the curb, and a look of concern crossed the coachman’s face. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long, sir.”

“No, Gibson. You’re right on time.” He motioned with his hand when the driver moved to get down, then opened the door for himself and stepped into the carriage.

On the drive home he tried not to think what might await him when he got there, what he needed to say to Diana and when he needed to say it. He feared making a mistake, making things worse. Which meant, of course, he still wasn’t trusting God to see him through.

Upchurch was watching for his arrival and opened the door before Tyson reached it.

“Where is my wife?” he asked the butler as he entered.

“She retired early, sir. She had a headache.”

Not a good sign. Should he go up and try to speak to her now? Wouldn’t that be inconsiderate if she was asleep? Perhaps if he—

“Mr. Applegate, I believe you should know what happened while you were out.”

His gaze flicked toward the staircase. “Yes?”

“Miss Kingston returned, sir, to speak to Mrs. Applegate.”

He looked at the butler. “She did?”

“She claims someone on the staff stole something from her purse earlier today. A valuable ring.”

“Whom did she accuse?”

Upchurch drew himself up, his expression grim. “No one in particular. All the staff in general.”

“What did Mrs. Applegate say?”

The butler revealed the hint of a smile. “You would have been proud of her, sir.”

Tyson waited, assuming there was more to come.

“Miss Kingston demanded to confront the staff and accuse them to their faces, but Mrs. Applegate refused her. When Mrs. Applegate wouldn’t change her mind, Miss Kingston left. In a huff, I might add.”

“I can imagine.”

“May I say, sir, that I am confident no one working in this house has stolen anything from anyone. Mrs. Brown has done an excellent job hiring the household servants, and we all have great respect for you and Mrs. Applegate. None of us would abuse your trust in such a way.”

“Thank you, Upchurch.” Tyson drew in a deep breath. “What
about my father and Mrs. Fisher? Were they present when Miss Kingston came to speak with my wife?”

“They were still outside in the garden, sir. But when they learned what happened, they helped in searching for the lost ring.” Anticipating Tyson’s next question, the butler added, “It wasn’t found.”

“And where are they now? My father and Mrs. Fisher.”