Enduring Love (2 page)

John sat in a straight-backed chair, his arms pressed against his thighs, hands clasped as if in prayer. He stared at the floor.

Hannah knew he anguished just as she did, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. She put out the lamp and the night enveloped them. Lying on her back, she remained still, staring at the ceiling hidden by the blackness. Night sounds carried in from outside—a frog chirped and someone’s growling cough carried up from the city street; distant voices chatted. And then it was quiet.

Hannah was thankful for the refuge of the darkness.
God help
me
.
I don’t know what to do
. She closed her eyes and Margaret’s handsome face popped into her mind. Trepidation and misery pressed down on her.
Did she have to be so stunning?
Hannah felt plain in comparison.

The chair creaked, and Hannah heard the sounds of John undressing. He draped his shirt and then his pants over the chair, then crossed the room. Hannah couldn’t see him, but she knew he stood beside the bed . . . for a long while. She waited, breathing shallowly. The mattress gave and John lay down, lying motionless.

Hannah remained still.
How can we live like this
?
It’s impossible
. Knowing the question had to be raised, she asked, “What are we to do?”

For a long moment, John made no reply, then he whispered, “I don’t know.”

He reached for Hannah’s hand, but she withdrew, unable to bear his touch.

“I’ll divorce her.”

“Divorce is not a solution. You know it’s almost never allowed.”

“She deceived me. She and my cousin Henry took my company, the business my father built, and every penny I had. She’s not my wife. She never was, not really. What wife would treat her husband so? It was all a sham.”

Hannah didn’t want to defend Margaret, but she and John must face the truth. “How do you know she did those things?”

“I just know. She was seen leaving our home with Henry. They went away together, and then the money disappeared from my bank account. I was told Henry made the withdrawal.”

“Henry, not Margaret.” Hannah pushed up on one elbow, facing John. “If she dishonored you that way, then why would she come here now? Perhaps you’ve misjudged her.” Hannah didn’t want to voice what was in her mind, but it must be said. “I saw love in her eyes, John. Love for you.”

Silence, like a dark presence, spread through the room. When John spoke, his voice was heavy and thick. “Even if that’s true . . . it doesn’t matter. I don’t love her anymore. You’re my only love. You’re my wife.”

“You’re already married, John. Don’t you see? We’re not husband and wife.”

“We are.” John’s voice was resolute.

“No, John, we’re not.”

2

Lydia and David led the way. John followed Hannah. His eyes grazed the room crowded with early morning breakfasters, mostly families. “How ’bout next to the window?” He tried to keep his voice light. He noticed two business acquaintances sitting near the back. The elder gentleman, Mr. Phelps, nodded. John lifted his hat to him, then tucked it beneath one arm. With a glance about the unpretentious restaurant, he was thankful to see no one else of consequence. He wasn’t up to polite conversation.

“Perfect,” Lydia said. “The clouds have gone, and the morning sun will feel good.” She moved toward the front of the room, with David hurrying to keep up.

Perry followed, Gwen on his arm. “It’ll probably be hot by the time we start for home.”

His hand pressed lightly against Hannah’s back, John steered her to the table. Beneath his palm, he could feel the tightness of her muscles. Pulling out a chair, he chanced a glance and saw tightly pursed lips and dark, unhappy eyes. She didn’t look at him. He took the seat beside her.

Perry leaned back in his chair and, taking a big breath, expanded his narrow rib cage. “It’s a fine day.” He sounded overly cheerful.

Gwen laid a hand on Perry’s arm. “It is.” Her eyes went to Hannah, then quickly moved to Lydia. She smiled. “I wish we could stay longer.”

Lydia pushed back loose hairs that had fallen onto her face. “Me too. And that dreadful road—I don’t look forward to it.” She placed her hands on the table in front of her and leaned toward John and Hannah. “So . . . I suppose we can ignore your predicament and go on with our breakfast as if nothing’s changed, but that wouldn’t be right.”

Hannah looked at Lydia, surprise in her eyes.

“What are ye two going to do?”

Hannah pressed her lips more tightly together and glanced at John.

He shook his head. It was just like Lydia to steer straight into trouble. He closed his eyes, wishing the whole matter would disappear. He didn’t want to discuss it. Margaret was a part of his life he wanted to forget.

What Henry and Margaret had done glared at him from the past, and he couldn’t look away. Revulsion and fury roared through John. His mind rewound and he felt as if he were still in prison and just learning of their treachery. They’d done to him what no person had the right to do to any other. Margaret had defiled their marriage bed by lying with Henry, and then while he was suffering in prison, they’d stripped him of his business and his assets. Everything he and his father had worked for had been taken.

John clenched his teeth. He thought he’d put all this behind him, forgiven the wrongs done . . . but when he’d seen Margaret, he’d again tasted bitterness and rage.

Lydia unfolded her napkin. “It’s unbelievable Margaret thinks she can simply saunter up to you after all this time and act as if nothing has happened. The nerve . . .” She dropped the napkin on her lap then fixed her eyes on John. “So, what are ye going to do?”

David rested a hand on Lydia’s arm. “Luv, I’m sure if he wanted us to know, he’d have said.”

Lydia glanced at David’s hand. “I simply thought we might be of help.”

John needed to say something. He looked at Hannah, hoping for encouragement, but she stared at clasped hands in her lap. He looked back to Lydia. “As far as I’m concerned, Margaret is dead. I don’t intend to give her the time of day. We shan’t see each other again, I’m certain of that.”

“A decree of divorce should be forthcoming then, eh?” Lydia pressed.

“Not easy to do.” Perry leaned his elbows on the table. “I knew a bloke once who tried to divorce his wife; he had good cause, but he never managed to get one. He lived the rest of his life with the wench on one side and her father on the other, musket ready.” He chuckled.

Gwen jabbed him in the side with her elbow.

“What? What did I say? It’s the truth.” His smirk disappeared. “I’ve never known one person who managed to free themselves, not unless their spouse went off with someone else.”

“I doubt anyone would want a woman like her,” David said. “If it were the right bloke, he’d take her,” said Lydia. “What ’bout that newly widowed constable? He might be looking for a wife. She is comely. Perhaps we ought to inquire.”

John felt a flicker of hope. “Do you think it possible to divorce if she has another suitor?”

Lydia shrugged. “Maybe. I’m wondering if she came because there’s a need for wives in New South Wales. There are a lot of men without women.” Lydia rested her chin in one hand.

“Not likely,” Perry said. “She wouldn’t have any trouble finding a husband in London, treacherous or not.”

John studied a brilliantly colored butterfly fluttering against the window. It tried again and again to get inside, its delicate wings trembling. “I’ve just cause for divorce—after what she and Henry did.”

“I should say you do.” Lydia’s tone was heated. “That woman was more than unfaithful, she—”

John held up a hand to shush her. “Enough.” He didn’t want to hear more. And he could see all this talk was upsetting Hannah. She’d turned ashen. He took her hand and squeezed it gently. “I shall apply for a divorce.”

“As Perry said, it’s not so easily done.” Hannah’s voice quaked.

“That may be so, but I’m determined. It shall be accomplished whether she has another suitor or not.” The fear and hurt in Hannah’s voice pierced John’s heart. This wasn’t fair to her. His rancor intensified. It was so like Margaret to do what pleased her with no thought to anyone else.

“Not to worry, luv. I’ll see to Margaret. She’ll not have her way.” He lifted Hannah’s hand and kissed the back of her fingers. “Trust me.”

Hannah nodded, but she barely looked at him.

A cranky-looking woman, wearing an apron blemished with spatterings of the morning’s fare, set platters of eggs, toast, and hot porridge on the table. She returned a moment later with a stack of plates and a handful of utensils. “I’ll be back with tea and coffee, if ye like.”

“We do.” Lydia picked up a plate, dished a helping of eggs onto it and a slice of toast, and set it in front of David. Gwen did the same for Perry, then scooped out a bit of hot cereal for herself.

John picked up a plate. “What would you like, luv?”

“Nothing. I’m not hungry.”

John studied her a moment. “The eggs look fresh.”

“No. Tea is all I want.”

“All right, then.” John served himself eggs and toast.

The woman returned with tea and coffee, placing them on the table. “Anything more I can get ye?”

“I think we’re fine,” David said.

With a nod, she moved away.

Hannah lifted the kettle and poured herself a cup of tea and then stirred in a bit of sugar.

“It will be a long trip home.” John leaned closer to Hannah. “You’d best have something to eat.”

“I said . . . I’m not hungry.” Hannah’s tone was sharp.

“Just meant to help.”

Hannah flashed him a heated look. “There’s nothing you can do to help.”

John’s natural response would be to defend himself. Instead he returned to his breakfast and his thoughts.
There must be
a solution
. He took a bite of egg. It was tasteless. He poured himself a cup of coffee and took a drink of the dark brew. He looked into the cup.
Bitter, like my life.

Conversation came in fits and starts and finally died altogether. When the meal was nearly completed, the woman who had served them returned. “Is one of ye John Bradshaw?”

John set down his fork and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “That would be me.” She handed him a small envelope and walked away.

He looked at it, turning it over and over in his hands. He knew it was from Margaret. He glanced at the others.

Lydia set her spoon aside. “Well, are ye going to read it?”

John slipped an index finger beneath a wax seal, opened the envelope, and lifted out a note. He didn’t want to read it. Margaret couldn’t possibly have anything to say that he wanted to hear. Still, his eyes dropped to the note. He immediately recognized the florid script.

My dearest John. I am at a loss to explain my feelings, but I
will do my best. I am delighted to have finally found you, and yet
my heart is breaking over your austere reception. I have dreamed
of our reunion and what it would be like. Your rebuff confuses
me. I can only guess at your reasons.

It seems we have much to talk about, especially upon learning
that you’ve remarried. I understand why you would take a wife
when believing me to be dead. However, I must point out that your
present marriage is invalid since you are still married to me.

John felt the hard thrum of his heart. It was true—Hannah was not his legal wife.

Please come to me at the boardinghouse so we can talk. I will
do my best to explain all that has happened since your arrest. You
must believe it was never my intention that you be imprisoned
and sent to this godforsaken country. I love you. I always have.
Yours sincerely . . . Margaret.

John reread the note. Was it possible he had misunderstood the circumstances of her disappearance? He tucked the letter back into the envelope, then looked at his companions and at Hannah. “It’s from Margaret. She wants to speak to me. This is all quite a mess. I must go.”

If it were possible, Hannah’s skin became even more ashen. Her chin trembled and she fought tears. John took her hand. “We must sort this out so we can go on with our lives. Try not to worry, luv. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

“Of course it will be.” Lydia smiled encouragement. “The Lord wouldn’t bring ye together to allow something like this to separate ye, especially after all ye’ve been through. Ye’ll stand against this, like all the other troubles ye’ve faced before. And the Lord’s not forgotten Thomas. He’s in the midst of this too.”

“Lydia’s right,” David said. “I’m sure you’ll find a solution.” His tone belied the words.

Hannah stood. “I’m going to our room. I’ll wait there.” Her brown eyes sought out John’s and held them for a moment before she turned and walked away.

“Poor Hannah,” Gwen said. “I can’t imagine.” She looked at John. “I’m sorry.

Perry laid his fork on his plate. “Ye’ll find a way to solve this, I’ve no doubt.”

John stood. “Of course, you’re right. Though this is shocking and seems a mess, I’m confident it’s not out of God’s control. Just as you’ve said, he’ll sort it out. I’ll speak to Margaret and then to the governor. I’m sure he’ll understand I have good reason to divorce her.”

John wished he felt as confident as his words sounded. If while living in London Margaret truly hadn’t meant him any harm, then speaking to the governor would do him little good.