Nicola Cornick - The Undoing Of A Lady

But Tom was speaking again and Lizzie leaned closer over the banister, straining to catch his words even as her heart thundered so loudly she was afraid it would give her away; even when she was not really sure that she wished to hear any more.

“No, it is not Celeste who concerns me now,” Tom was saying. “It is Lizzie. I have noticed-we all have-how tragically fond she has become of you, Waterhouse. It won’t do, old chap. It won’t do at all, not when you married her under false pretences.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Nat’s voice was clipped, furious. “What are you insinuating?”

Lizzie heard Tom’s voice grow louder. He must have moved closer to the door. Each word was now devastatingly clear.

“You haven’t told Lizzie, have you?” Tom said. “You haven’t told her about my blackmail because that would necessitate explaining to her that you married her for her fortune simply so you could pay me.”

“Lizzie knows that I needed money,” Nat snapped. “I made no secret of it.”

“But not that you took her and her money for revenge,” Tom said softly.

“That’s nonsense and you know it.” Was that a thread of hesitation in Nat’s voice now? Lizzie heard his tone change and felt the icy trickle of fear down her spine.

“Is it?” Tom said smoothly. “I don’t think so. You saw the opportunity to pay me back for my blackmail, didn’t you, Waterhouse? You knew that under the Dames’ Tax I would get half of Lizzie’s money if she did not wed before September. That is my right as Lord of the Manor. So you snatched Lizzie from under my nose, stole her dowry from me and then used it to pay me off!” He laughed. “That is the sort of unprincipled trick that I would pull. I almost admire you for it, except that you swindled me of my fair share of Lizzie’s cash, damn you.”

There was a silence, a long, damning silence. Lizzie waited for Nat to refute her brother’s words, for surely they could not be true. Nat would never have used her to get revenge on Tom. She could see now that he had needed her money to pay Tom and protect Celeste, but surely he had acted out of honorable motives.

And yet he had not told her about the blackmail. He had not trusted her.

The words slithered like cold, black poison through her mind and with another pang of icy grief she remembered Nat’s words to her that evening of the picnic, when he had begged her not to listen to Tom, not to believe anything Tom said…

Tom had been the one to tell her the truth about Gregory Scarlet, a truth Nat had kept from her. And now she realized that Nat had been afraid because he had known Tom might tell her the truth about her marriage, too. Nat had promised her that there were no more secrets, but now there was this. He had lied.

Nat had paid Tom off using her dowry.

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She felt cold and doubting, not wanting to disbelieve Nat’s integrity and yet suddenly facing the fact that he was not the man she had thought him.

“You must not tell her,” Nat said, and Lizzie felt sick and dizzy to hear the words that confirmed Nat’s guilt. “You must not tell Lizzie, Fortune. I don’t want her to know the terms of our agreement. Not ever.” He sighed “What do you want this time for your silence?” He sounded tired.

Lizzie sagged against the banister, her fingers clenched tight on the smooth wood. So it was true. She would never have believed it if she had not heard Nat’s words for herself. But it was true. Nat had seen her as his opportunity to revenge himself on Tom. He had just admitted it. That was why he had not confided in her about the blackmail-because she would have realized he had paid Tom with her dowry. She would have realized that he had used her.

Lizzie sat down heavily on the stairs. In the beginning, when she had seduced Nat and he had offered her the protection of his name, she had been sure he had been acting out of honor. She still believed it now, though her faith in him was battered and tarnished. It was the same honor that had prompted Nat to protect Celeste and pay Tom’s price. Nat was not a bad person; he was not like Tom, motivated by nothing but greed. But then Monty had died and Tom had refused his permission for the wedding and Nat had seen the most perfect opportunity for revenge. He had outwitted Tom by getting Gregory Scarlet’s agreement for the match. He had taken Lizzie’s dowry and in doing so not only had he denied Tom his share under the Dames’ Tax but had also rubbed Tom’s nose in it by paying him the blackmail money from his sister’s fortune. It was neat, it was cunning, it was the perfect revenge. And she had been the instrument of it.

“I want the Scarlet Diamonds,” Tom was saying. “They should have been mine anyway and it’s the least you owe me for stealing my share of Lizzie’s dowry. I almost won them off her that night at the gaming tables. So if you give them to me now I’ll say nothing to her about the small matter of you using Lizzie and her dowry for revenge.”

There was a pause and Lizzie realized that she was holding her breath in the hope that Nat would still refute the allegation and tell Tom he loved her, that he had married her because he cared for her and not to settle some score. But then Nat said:

“I cannot give it to you now. Lizzie is in the house-I need more time…Tomorrow…” And Lizzie’s heart sank like a stone and she drove her nails into the palms of her hands to prevent herself from crying.

“Tomorrow, then,” Tom said. Lizzie heard him laugh. “That seems a fair bargain, Waterhouse. We have divided Lizzie up, you and I, to our mutual satisfaction now. Bought her, sold her, split the money.”

Somehow Lizzie got herself back up the stairs and into her bedchamber, closing the door with shaking hands. She felt cold through and through, teeth chattering, hands shaking as though she had an ague again.

Bought and sold, bought and sold…

What price now her pitiful hopes that Nat was starting to love her in the same way that she cared for him? She could see just how futile and sad her dreams had been. Her naïveté felt so painful. Nat might have cared enough for her to give her the protection of his name and wed her to save her reputation, but his prime desire had always been for her money and now she knew why. Blackmail and revenge…

She felt wretched and betrayed and she could not, she could not stay here and pretend she had not overheard that damning conversation, nor could she challenge Nat and hear him repeat the truth to her face and experience the hurt of it all again. It would destroy her. Her love for Nat had been ripped apart by what she had heard; it had been so devastated that she no longer knew how she felt.

She dragged out some writing paper and her inkpot but she was shaking so much that she spilt the ink across the skirts of her green gown and mopped it up clumsily with her handkerchief. Then she paused. What could she say? It all sounded so pitiful:

I have loved you for so long.

I wanted someone who loved me for myself alone.

Better simply to go with it all unsaid.

She knew she was running away again but this time she could not stop herself. She took nothing with her. She could not seem to think clearly enough to know what she needed to take. She heard Tom leave and Nat go into his study and she crept down the stairs and out to the stables and she took Starfire with no tack and rode off into the night, still in her green evening gown.

NAT WAS SHAKEN to discover how strong was the urge to go and find Lizzie as soon as Tom had left, to speak to her, to wake her even if she was sleeping. He knew he needed to tell her the truth at once before Tom had the chance to see her. Despite buying himself some time, he did not trust the man an inch.

Nat had begged for time from Tom not because he intended for one moment to give him the necklace, not because he wanted to keep the truth from Lizzie, but because he simply had to lull his brother-in-law into a false sense of security. He had to keep Tom away from Lizzie until he had the opportunity to tell her about the blackmail himself. Nat knew that Tom, in his cruelty and malice, would hurt Lizzie again, smash all the bright confidence that Nat had seen growing in her, trample her feelings in that hateful, careless way he had and destroy Lizzie’s happiness all over again. The thought of Tom harming Lizzie, crushing her spirit, made Nat furious.

He could see now that he had been mad and misguided to keep the truth from Lizzie for so long. He had thought he was doing the right thing in protecting her. He had not told her because he could not bear to disillusion her even further about her brother; news of Tom’s latest outrage and his extortion would surely wrench her to the heart. Nat had seen for years how much Lizzie had cared for Monty and Tom Fortune and felt angry and powerless in the light of their indifference toward their little sister. He had thought he could not add to Lizzie’s disenchantment by telling her even more of Tom’s sordid affairs. Yet now he could see only too clearly how his actions could be interpreted. Tom’s corrosive, spiteful words seemed to be all that he could hear:

“We have divided Lizzie up, you and I…Bought her, sold her…”

Nat went to the table and poured himself a glass of brandy, drinking it down in one gulp. It was true that he had needed Lizzie’s money to pay the blackmail but he had never for a single moment resolved to marry her just to thwart her brother. The idea was sick, twisted, but it had a kind of appalling logic. Under the Dames’ Tax Tom would have been entitled to half of his sister’s dowry. By carrying her off and marrying her against Tom’s wishes, Nat had cheated Tom of that twenty-five thousand pounds. Then he had paid Tom with Lizzie’s money. Oh, yes, Nat could see why Tom, with his warped and bitter mind would see his actions as no more than coldhearted revenge. But he did not care what Tom believed. The only thing that mattered was what Lizzie thought, and he had to explain to her, had to make it absolutely clear in a way that proved that he had never intended her to be an instrument of revenge against her brother. Everything between them was so new and so fragile. He would not let Tom despoil it.

He paced the room. He loved Lizzie. He knew that now with a clarity he only wished he had achieved earlier. He had been a fool, so unutterably slow to realize his feelings for her, so trapped by the way things had always been that he had not been able to see that everything had changed. He loved her gallantry and her courage and the way that she was maturing and growing into such a fine person. He was so proud of her that it made his heart ache to think of it. And he needed her, knowing that only Lizzie with all her defiance and her stubbornness and her spirit could fill his soul and banish the dark that had been left by his sister Charlotte’s death.

He saw that Alice had left him a note. She had written that Lizzie had woken, had taken some food and was resting. Nat had intended to go up to Lizzie as soon as he had returned home, but Tom Fortune had caught him just outside the house. Now, though, he knew he could not delay. Lizzie might be weak and tired after her fever, it was probably the very worst time to add to her woes, it was certainly the last thing he wanted to speak to her about when all he wanted to do was to hold her and tell her he loved her, but the matter could not be put off a moment longer.

Nat went out into the hallway and looked up the darkened stairwell. Not a sound. The house was still and quiet. Premonition stretched his nerves tight. For the first time he realized that Lizzie might have come down whilst Tom was there and that she might have heard their conversation. Nat had been forced to invite Tom inside, being unwilling to have such a loaded discussion in the street, but now, belatedly, he could see how dangerous that move might have been. But surely if Lizzie had overheard she would have burst in, challenged them and demanded to know what they were talking about? That was Lizzie’s way-to confront an issue not to run from it. Unless…Unless she had been so hurt and distraught to think that he had married her for no more than money and revenge that she had run from him. Gone without a word…

Even as the thought was in his mind Nat took the stairs two at a time and slammed open Lizzie’s door. The room was empty and quiet with the candle burning down on the chest and a blank piece of paper and pool of ink on the dressing table.

Nat felt the shock and dread drive all the breath from his body. He ran through the quiet house, down to the stables where the groom said that Lady Waterhouse had ridden out ten minutes before and no, he did not know which road she had taken.