The Worthington Wife Page 39

  I saw your face when I admitted that most of the things Bradstock told you were true. I did run with the Five Points Gang. It was work with them or be targeted by them. My mother told me to stand up for what I believed in, but in the end, I wanted the money. That was a lot easier to live with when I was a young, arrogant thug than it is now. I never expected that.

  I’m sorry I lied to you about Worthington. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my past. I knew I would lose you if you knew the truth about me.

  So I’m gone. As my aunt said, I’m not fit for decent society.

  I said I don’t believe in curses, but my mam did. If there’s a curse on you, Julia, it’s me.

  I’m going to London first to meet with the solicitors. Worthington Park will be yours. The title is entailed, so is the estate, but I could sell it for debts. So I’m taking out a big loan in your name, then I’ll have the lawyers draw up the papers for you to foreclose.

  The estate is yours. You are the sole owner.

  I guess you changed me because I want Worthington to survive. You can make that happen. There’s no one else I would trust with the estate. You called it “your place in the world.” I would never take that away from you, Sheba.

  I love you with all my heart, Julia. I’ll come back in a few months and if you want me gone, I’ll give you a divorce. I’m sorry if I caused you pain.

  That’s what I’m good at. The only thing I’ve done well, except for painting, is hurting people. And I can’t paint now. It’s all garbage, what I’m putting on the canvas. Now that I don’t have your love, I can’t seem to paint right.

  You were my muse. I was right about that. It’s killing me to leave, but it’s the right thing.

  Yours regretfully,

  Cal

  For a long while, she held the note, staring blankly at it.

  Then, out of the small cupboard in the bedside table, she took out Cal’s bottle of fiery whiskey. She poured some into a tumbler and walked back into her bedroom as Zoe walked in.

  “What is that?” Zoe asked.

  Julia took the tiniest sip. “Gah!”

  Zoe’s brows rose. “Julia, what on earth are you drinking?”

  “Irish whiskey.” She had literally just touched her tongue to the stuff and shuddered. Yet the burning sensation after was rather pleasant. “Cal says this drink relaxes him. I was hoping to discover that was true for me, as well. Would you like some?”

  “No, thank you, I shouldn’t. Besides, I much prefer cocktails. That’s the only way hard liquor is palatable. But why are you drinking?”

  Julia lifted the glass to take another sip, but her eyes watered. Perhaps the promise of feeling less upset wasn’t worth the price of drinking this. “My husband has left me.”

  “What?”

  She gave Zoe the letter. She adored her sister-in-law, and Zoe’s business acumen had made her wise in other ways, as well.

  Suddenly, the urge to cry overwhelmed her. Julia set down the glass and sobbed. Zoe embraced her. She cried and cried. Then sucked in a deep breath in an unladylike way. “I’m sorry. Falling into disarray is not something I do lightly.”

  “Disarray? Julia, your silly husband has gone away. You have the right to be upset.” Zoe sighed. “Marriage can be so annoying. That was why I wanted to be independent. Fortunately I discovered the blessings of marriage outweigh the times when you’d like to bean your husband over the head.”

  Julia laughed—Zoe had taught her to not restrict herself to ladylike smiles—but almost as quickly she felt like crying again. “It’s so complicated. He lied to me and he didn’t tell me about his past. He was a mobster, apparently. I don’t know what he did, but it sounds as if it was terrible. I wish he would have talked to me instead of leaving.”

  “I went through the same problems with your brother, Julia. He wouldn’t tell me what caused his shell shock.”

  “But you convinced him to tell you. And you both worked together to heal him. Cal has just...left. I should be angry with him for doing that. But I know he did it because he believes he is doing it for me. He gave Worthington to me.”

  She had made him see how important Worthington was. But this was not the outcome she’d hoped for. “He asked me if I chose Worthington or him. I couldn’t answer then—I was too shocked and angry that he was asking me to choose. But I choose him. And now it’s too late.”

  And just like that, the tears began again.

  She’d cried buckets for Anthony when she’d learned he’d been killed. She had not cried when Ellen had been hurt—she’d been too outraged. She had cried when Mrs. Toft had died in childbirth. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I am crying so much. I feel rather sick—”

  Zoe plucked the glass of whiskey out of Julia’s hand. “I know why it is. You are pregnant, dear.”

  Could it be true? Could she be...enceinte? She’d been married just over a month.

  “You’re a married woman, and nausea and tears are two signs that you might be having a baby, Julia. We must go to London to see a specialist. But first, you must go for breakfast. Now is not the time to not eat. I’m sure Cal will come back.”

  “In months, he has said.” She wanted him there, to share her news with him. But she went down for breakfast with Zoe as their guest—where David, Diana, Cassia and Thalia were in the dining room. They did not need to know Cal had gone. But Cassia asked if it was true that he had left for America.

  “Wiggins told our lady’s maid that Cal ordered his trunk be brought down from the attic,” Diana said. “And he saw the tickets for the Olympic, lying out on Cal’s bedside table. He is sailing for New York. But there was only one ticket.”

  “He has gone to New York City. For a visit,” she lied. “He left me in charge of the estate.”

  Diana’s eyebrows lifted. “Is more of the estate going to be sold?”

  “No. Worthington Park is safe now. I promise.” And in a soft voice, she said to Diana, “I will take you to Paris as soon as I can.”

  But Diana shook her head. “I—No—Julia, it’s so complicated.” Diana got up and left and Julia understood the rush of painful emotions she must be feeling.

  After breakfast, Zoe left and Julia walked through the corridors. She was supposed to run Worthington but all she could think of was Cal. She saw David in the library, gazing at a shelf out of his reach. She hurried in, fetched the book he wanted, handing it to him.

  “Thank you,” he said shyly. Then, “Julia, there’s something I need to ask you. Maybe you’ll think I’m crazy, too. Cal would. But I want to do it.”

  “What is it?”

  “I know Diana is expecting. I know her beau let her down—Cal told me. I want to ask Diana to marry me. Cal settled a lot of money on me when he made his fortune. I can’t give her a title, but I can give her a nice house. I know I’m not a catch without my legs—”

  “David, you are a true gentleman, a hero and a good man.” Julia’s heart wobbled. She was so touched. But then, practicality set in. “But Diana...may still be in love with this man, even though he is utterly useless. I don’t know what she will say.”

  “I can hear ‘no.’ But I want to try.”

  “Then I do hope, with all my heart, that she says yes.”

  After she left him, she found Diana. A lady would never leave such a thing to chance. “Could I speak to you for a moment? In the morning room, perhaps?”

  Diana’s loose dress floated around her as they went into the morning room and Julia carefully closed the door. A lady got to the point when it was necessary. “Diana, David has fallen in love with you and he intends to ask for your hand in marriage.”

  “David—marriage?”

  “Yes. He adores you. He has accepted that you will be reluctant to marry him because he has lost his legs in the War. It happened in the
most heroic way possible—he was saving the lives of other men. Be gentle when you refuse him. Be as kind as you can. He is a very good man.”

  “Julia, I’m not going to gently refuse David Carstairs.”

  “Diana, please—”

  “I’m going to accept him. Could you tell him that, so he will get the courage to ask me?”

  “Diana, please don’t do it just because you need a marriage. He deserves much more—”

  “Julia, sometimes you are terrible. You are completely insulting me. You really think I’m not capable of loving him, don’t you? Why—because he was wounded in battle? I do love him. He knows about my child and offered to help me with money. I said I couldn’t ask that of him. He is a good man. He knows the worst about me—all my horrible sins—and he doesn’t condemn me for them. David says that when he sees me in the morning, it is as if he has awoken to a perfect day. He made me see there is more to life than a title, than being mistress of a large house that is really an empty home.”

  Julia jerked. That was what she was—mistress of a vast house that now felt empty, when what she had wanted more than anything was happiness.

  “I will tell him. I will tell him right away.” Julia clasped Diana’s hands. “I would love to know you two are going to be married, before I go away.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “America.”

  * * *

  New, sleek, renowned for its speed, the Athena was like no ship Julia had ever seen. Everything was clean glass, polished silver metal, smooth lines. Her stateroom was done in white and black, crisp and striking. There were no frilled velvets, no Italianate smoking rooms and staterooms designed to look like fussy Victorian rooms in an English manor. Here the lines were streamlined, promising a voyage to a new, thrilling world.

  Julia had been startled that even Nigel approved of her pursuing Cal. Cassia had taken command of her work with the widows while she traveled with Zoe and Nigel, along with Nicholas and his nurse They intended to visit Zoe’s mother in New York, as Mrs. Gifford was thrilled to see her grandson and to know Zoe was expecting again.

  Over dinner in the dining room with a modern silver-and-white ceiling, she said, “Cal gave me Worthington to keep it safe. I’ve realized this is my place in the world—to fight for important things that I believe in. And I believe in Cal. More than he believes in himself. But can I convince him to come back with me? He said he is not worthy of me. I don’t know how to make him see that isn’t true.”

  “Go to him. And you will find a way,” Zoe said, with all her modern confidence.

  “You’re right, Julia. This is where you belong,” Nigel said. “Taking charge suits you.”

  * * *

  Julia was nervous until the day they docked. She stood at the railing, breathless. The city rose out of the water like something magical, with buildings that scraped the sky.

  Once they disembarked, they hired a car. Zoe drove, as she knew the city well. David had given Julia the address of the house they used in New York. It was outside the city, in a place called “Great Neck” on Long Island Sound. Where wealthy people went to summer.

  It felt like they had plunged into the country. Green trees shimmered lushly against the blue sky. Fields stretched around her and in the middle sat quaint clapboard farmhouses with large porches.

  The roads became narrower and they got lost. Stumbling upon a house, Julia got directions from the butler who answered the door, who was quite stunned when she introduced herself as the Countess of Worthington. She learned that the roads and railways were kept deliberately in disrepair to discourage the city people from flocking to the area in the spring and summer.

  Following the directions, their Chrysler motorcar pulled into a long drive. Julia put her hands over her mouth as the mansion came into view.

  “This belongs to Cal?” Nigel stared.

  The large mansion followed the curving drive, giving views of the grounds from all directions. It was white as snow, striking with black shutters and a large black front door. Two large wings branched off the main portion of the house. From the drive, as they neared the house, they could see the gray crashing waves of the ocean beyond. The house stood at the end of a spit of land that bravely pushed out into the sea.

  “I had no idea Cal had the money to buy this,” Julia whispered. Coming to Worthington Park had not been so much of a shock to him. He hadn’t told her the whole truth about his wealth.

  Nigel stopped the car and Julia didn’t wait for any servants to appear. She got out and rapped on the front door. The door opened, and she got to shock another butler with the announcement of her title.

  “Is my husband in?” she asked. Her heart hammered—she didn’t know for certain he’d come here. He could have traveled anywhere. Even left America by now.

  She could have laughed with joy and relief when the butler bowed. “The master is in his study, madam.”

  “My lady,” Zoe corrected cheekily.

  Then Zoe squeezed Julia’s hands. “Go and see Cal.” To the butler, she said, “My husband and I would like to wait in another room.”

  “Allow me to show you the drawing room that overlooks the Sound, madam.”

  “That is the Duchess of Langford,” Julia pointed out. “I’m afraid you address her as ‘Your Grace.’ It is rather complicated, but I know you’ll get the hang of it.”

  His jaw dropped so fast he almost had to catch it in his hands. Julia had him point her toward Cal’s study. At first, she walked there like a lady. Then she couldn’t wait and she ran.

  Her shoes clicked on the gleaming marble tile and skimmed across beautiful carpet. She knocked on the white paneled door to the study.

  “Come in.”

  She felt a sharp jolt of delight at the sound of his voice. She gently pushed open the door. He stood by his window, looking out at the lawns and the white-capped gray waves of the sea.

  “What is it?” he asked brusquely.

  “Hi, Cal,” she said, as casually and jauntily as she could.

  He spun around and he staggered backward as he saw her. A tumbler with a small amount of dark gold liquid fell out of his hand. “Julia?”

  “You’ve dropped your—”

  She broke off as he gripped her around the waist and lifted her in his arms. His mouth covered hers, in a hot kiss that could have made the cold ocean water boil.

  Julia had feared he might not want to see her or he might be determined to keep distance between them even when they were in the same room. But he pulled her so close there wasn’t any space between her breasts and belly and his hard body.

  “Julia, why are you here? Here in America?”

  “I’ve come after you, Cal. I’m chasing you in a bold, brash, modern way. And you’ve dropped your drink.”

  His blue eyes went large with disbelief. “You came across an ocean for me? You shouldn’t have done. If you wanted to see me, Sheba, all you had to do was telephone and I would have swum the ocean for you. You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. The truth is, I’m not worth it.”

  “Cal, I know you are. And I enjoyed taking charge and traveling across the ocean for my very first time.”

  He set her down, cupped her cheek. “Before you say I’m worth it, you need to know the truth about me, my muse. You need to know where I’ve come from and what I’ve done.”

  * * *

  With the fabric top up on his 1924 Rolls, Cal drove into the city, making his way to the area where he’d grown up. He drove through streets that still cried of squalor, where the stink of industry and the smell of sewage rolled up the streets from the river.

  He didn’t look at Julia. Didn’t need to see her to know what she must be thinking.

  “This is where you grew up?”

  “Yes,” he said abruptly. “The
neighborhood is known as Hell’s Kitchen.”

  “Hell’s Kitchen. That’s a curious name. Was it because of the heat in the summer?”

  He gave a hard laugh. “No one agrees on where the name came from. A reporter from the New York Times called one of the tenements ‘Hell’s Kitchen,’ back in the 1880s. It’s at 39th Street and Tenth Avenue. The reporter went there to write a story on a multiple murder and called it the lowest and filthiest place in the city. Or some say the name came from a veteran police officer who was watching a riot with a rookie copper. The rookie calls the place ‘hell itself,’ and the veteran says, ‘Hell’s a mild climate. This is Hell’s Kitchen.’”

  Cal stole a glance, expecting to see her look disgusted. “I should have known,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “You’re too much of a lady to show your shock on your face.” It came out angrier than he’d intended. “I want to see it—don’t hide it. Hiding it means you pity me.”

  He stopped the car on the road outside the sagging, worn, mean-looking walk-up tenement in which he’d lived as a boy.

  Julia, her lips perfectly slicked in dark red lipstick, her skin glowing like the sheen of silk, looked up beneath the brim of her hat. “I do not pity you. You survived poverty I cannot even imagine and you got out. I admire you and respect you—how could I not respect a self-made man? As someone who inherited her position, her place in her home, I have nothing but intense respect, Cal.”

  “Julia, you earned your place in the world, as you call it. I’m a self-made man, but it’s how I made it that you should hate me for. You know, it killed me to leave you—”

  She had her hand on the door handle, ready to push the door open. He stopped her. “You aren’t getting out here.”

  “I want to look inside. To see your old home.”

  “It’s not a home,” he said bitterly. “It was a small, dirty apartment, filled with stink, disease and violence.” He put the car in gear—he hadn’t turned it off in case they had to leave in a hurry. Before he started moving, a boy ran out of the shadows and stroked the smooth, curved fender.