Authors: Lisa Andersen
“What are you doing here?” she hissed, looking up and down the corridor.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just wanted to see you.”
Part of her screamed that she should push him away, that this was unladylike, scandalous, awful. But another part – a stronger part – willed her to pull him into the room. It was the latter that won after a few lengthy seconds, in which time seemed to slow and the atmosphere became tense. She grabbed his hand, bare skin upon bare skin, and pulled him into her bedroom. She lit a candle and sat on the edge of the bed. She was wearing naught but her nightclothes, but this did not bother her. Not around Saul. He was no an animal like his uncle.
“I am sorry,” he repeated. “I don’t know what came over me.” He laughed ruefully. “That is a lie. I do know what came over me. I woke from a beautiful dream. It was our day in the woods. When we kissed. Do you remember?”
“Of course I remember, you silly man,” Zita smiled. “It was not that long ago.”
“I’d feared you blotted it from your mind.”
“I couldn’t if I tried.”
He held his hands up. “I hope you know I am not here for any dishonorable reason.”
“I wouldn’t have let you in if I thought you were.”
He sighed, and rested his face in his hands. “I’ve killed men, Zita. You know that, don’t you?”
“You were in France. I’d assumed as much.”
“I was thinking . . . It sounds silly, but in 1816 – the same year you were married, I suppose – when I returned from the war, I pitied myself for what I did over there. I gave myself all the pity in the world. I wept, like a child, at the things I had had to do. Now, it seems strange to me. Now that I have met you, I cannot believe that I was so self-indulgent. You have had things done to you over which you had no control. Awful things. And there I was pitying myself, like surviving the war was something to be distraught about.”
Zita nudged his leg with her hand. “And you came to my chambers in the middle of the night to tell me this?”
“Yes.” He smiled again. His smile was the kind of smile that draws you in and makes you feel as though nothing bad will ever happen again. It was innocent and roguish and sweet at the same time. He touched her hand before she withdrew it from his knee. “I am a silly man, I know.”
“You are,” Zita agreed. She grinned at him to show she was joking. “But I am glad you are here.”
They said nothing for a time, and then Saul leaned across and kissed her on the cheek. His lips were warm, and left a comforting impression upon her skin. “What was that for?” she said.
He shrugged. “Does there have to be a reason?”
“You know that what we are doing is dangerous, don’t you?” Zita said, touching the skin where he had kissed her. “If anybody
were
to discover that we had kissed, that we were here together now . . .”
“I know,” Saul said. “Yes, I know it. But I will not let it stop me. Will you?”
Zita considered, and then shook her head. “No, I do not think I will.” She yawned, her tiredness returning.
“I’m sorry,” Saul said. “I should go. I just wanted to see you.”
He made to leave.
“Wait,” Zita said. “Stay here for a while, just until I fall asleep.”
“Are you sure?”
Zita nodded. Without waiting to see if he would stay or leave, she climbed into bed, pulling the sheets around her. In a moment, Saul sat in the chair beside the bed. He gave her his hand, and she held it, feeling the security, the safety of it. Usually, nighttime was a wicked time, full of dread and nightmares. With his hand, she found she could sleep. It was a simply comfort, but it was invaluable.
She kissed his hands in the moments before sleep took her entirely.
When she awoke, just as the sun was beginning rise, she saw that he was asleep in the chair. She reached over and shook his knee. His eyes opened slowly, and when he saw her a sleep smile lifted his lips. “I should go,” he said. “Though I don’t want to.”
“I know,” Zita said. “But we’ll be together again. Soon.”
“I don’t want soon,” he replied as he rose to his feet. “I want forever.” He leaned down over her and kissed her softly
upon
the lips. She closed her eyes and let the kiss go on, until she wished it would never end. But it did, and then she was left alone.
As soon as the door closed behind him, she wished he was back in here with her.
I love you,
she thought, staring at the door.
I love you, Saul. You are the only man I have ever loved.
*****
Zita had to sit with Maynard in his last moments. It would have looked strange otherwise. There was nothing that could be done. The nurse made offered her condolences even before she left the room. Zita had expected to feel joyous as the man died, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything for him. Her mind went back to when she had first met him, on their wedding day. He had leaned forward after the vows had been exchanged and whispered in her ear, his breath thick with wine. “I own you now,” he’d said, loud enough for the vicar to hear. “You are mine.”
Nobody had stopped him. It had carried on. And she’d found herself in this loveless marriage.But now he was dying, right before her, and she was free from him. She didn’t smile, or cry. She didn’t show any emotion at all. She just watched as the last of his life wilted out of him, and then she left the room.
“He is gone,” she told the nurse. “Make the arrangements for his body to be moved.”
The nurse nodded quickly and paced away to carry out the orders.
There was no question of where Zita would go now. There was only one place she could go. She went to Saul. She found him in the library, leaning over a book the two of them had been reading together. She sat next to him and looked down at the words.
“
Is he gone
?” he asked.
“Yes,” Zita said, her voice oddly calm. “He’s dead.”
Saul nodded and turned back to the book.
“What now?” he said, after a pause.
“We can be together,” Zita said. “That’s what.”
“Marriage?”
Zita nodded. “If it would please you.”
He shut the book and faced her. He laid his hands on her face, on her cheeks, and pulled her to him. His lips had never been more welcome. “I love you, Zita,” he said. “I have fallen in love with you. Of course I wish you to be my wife. Nothing would please me more.”
Zita let the words wash over her, let them wrap around her. Here was a man with whom she could gladly spend her life. A kind man.A gentle man. The kind of man who would never dream of doing the things Maynard had done.
“We’ll have to see how the will turns out,” Zita said. “He may have cut me out of everything.”
“Thank God you had no children together,” Saul said.
Zita nodded her agreement. “I don’t think he was able,” she said quietly. “It is one blessing, at least.” She ran her nails along the desk. “If he has given me the estate, we will have to wait an appropriate amount of time until we marry.”
“I know.” Saul nodded. “That doesn’t trouble me. I can still live here, still be with you. There is nothing in society that says a nephew cannot comfort his aunt in her time of need.”
Zita grinned and nudged him playfully. “I really wished you’d stop calling me that.”
“Don’t worry,” Saul said. “If all goes well, I will be able to call you my wife.”
*****
Maynard gave her nothing in the will. He gave everything to some obscure cousin of his, another old man, who had moved to Scotland before Zita was born. She had expected this, and yet it still shocked her. Even from the grave, he could not grant her a small mercy. She was in her bedroom – which was no longer truly her bedroom – when Saul entered behind her. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck.
“He was a cruel man,” Saul said. “We expected this.”
“My parents are devastated,” Zita muttered. “In their letter they strongly insinuated that I must have done something to deserve this. He was a reasonable man, they said, and would not have cut me out of the will for nothing. They are furious. They expect me home within the week. It is quite a scandal for them.” Zita was unable to keep the mirth out of her voice.
“You don’t seem devastated,” Saul said, his breath tickling her neck.
“They sold me to him like cattle,” she said. “Now they can feel one tenth of what I have had to endure this past year.”
She felt Saul smile, felt the curving of his lips against her skin. “I suppose you must return, then. And we will never see each other again. Ah, what a horrid ending to a horrid play. Oh, well, my love. I suppose I will see you again, someday.”
“Do you enjoy making me nervous?” Zita said, turning in his arms and facing him. “Does it bring you pleasure?”
“No,” he said seriously. “Jokes aside, I know what we are going to do now.”
“And what is that, my lord?”
He raised his eyebrows, as though he didn’t understand the question. “We will marry, of course,” he said. “You and I, Zita, will become husband and wife. You don’t need to go to your parents’ house. Not now. Not ever if you don’t want to. I don’t want to rule you. I am sick of that paradigm. Let’s make our
own
paradigm.”
She kissed his lips, and he held her close to him. She had never felt such strong emotion for a man before. It was overwhelming, and before she could control it, she started to cry. He kissed the tears from her cheeks and then brushed them with his fingertips. “Does the prospect of marrying me frighten you so much?” he smiled. “It needn’t drive you to tears.”
“I am happy, you fool,” she laughed through the sobs. “I am ruined, I am shamed, society will shun me, and I am the happiest I have ever been. It’s just me and you now, Saul. Just you and me against the world.”
“I know,” he whispered. “Nothing, I believe, could ever make me happier than that prospect. In years, when all of this is a
memory
, and we have children, and a home, and we are a family, we will look back
on
this time as though it were a dream. A horrible dream where you were married to a tyrant and I was just the Duke’s nephew.”
“Oh, you silly man,” Zita said. “You were never
just
somebody’s nephew; you were always a man in your own right.”
“And you were always a lady, even if he tried to take that away from you. Lady Cross.”
“No,” she said. “Lady Cartwright.”
This time
, she thought,
I will have no problem owning my husband’s name
.
Epilogue
Zita touched her bump and smiled out upon the autumn fields. The house in which she and Saul lived was nothing as grand as Bainmore Castle. It did not have a long and storied history in which Dukes and Duchesses fought and married and loved and hated. It was a simply estate with three servants and an old deaf cook. But it was theirs. They had a small garden, nothing like the private grounds of Bainmore, and yet they seemed to Zita infinitely larger. Like the whole world was laid out before her. Like nothing could ever stifle her again.
They had travelled for a year before settling here. And then Saul had needed to return to work to maintain their income. But it was not a blow. They had seen much of the world. Europe, Asia, even Australia. Yes, those journeys had changed them markedly. But within them there still dwelt the man and woman who had fallen in love in dire circumstances two and a half years ago. Zita was older, and yet when she looked at herself in the looking glass, she appeared younger and fuller of
lie
than she ever had with Maynard.
Society had cast them out. They were not noble; they were just in love. Zita smiled. That was more than enough for her.
Saul joined her in the drawing room. “What are you thinking about, love?” he said, as he walked over to her and placed his hand
upon
hers. They both held the bump for a moment, held the life that was half his and half hers and grew inside of her. Contemplated the majesty and the beauty of their happiness. It was unspoken – no words were needed – but it was there. A profound thankfulness for all they now possessed in one another.
“Nothing in particular,” she said. “It is strange, my love.”
“What is?”
“All of the
society
considers me a failure. I lost a great fortune, upset a Duke, and was shunned by my family. And yet if I had done things their way, I would have considered
myself
a failure.”
“High society can go to ashes, for all I care,” Saul said. He knew how they spoke of Zita, and it angered him. He laughed at his own fury. “But they cannot enter this house. No nastiness, no pain, no violence will ever enter this house.”
Zita kissed him upon the lips, over and over, and then allowed herself to be held.
You see
, she would have said, if she could bend time and talk to the Zita that was still married to Maynard.
You see, you lost the
frightened
girl. It
does
get better.