Page 44 of Fair as a Star

“Our friendship is more important to me than anything,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t see you again.”

“There’s no chance of that.” His voice went gruff. “It would take more than a kiss to ruin things between us.”

She didn’t look very convinced. “Even if Henry finds out?”

“You didn’t tell him?

“Would you mind terribly if I had?”

“No. Not if you felt you needed to.” It was the truth. The day they’d kissed, he’d said that Henry need never know. That nothing could be achieved by telling him. Mark still believed that, but he would never expect Beryl to betray her own conscience.

“I didn’t,” she said. “Not yet anyway.”

“Then why did you go to the Park on Sunday?” he asked. “If not to tell Henry, then—”

“I went to talk to him about my sister. About that horse she loves so much.”

“Vesper?”

“Winnifred thought I could persuade Henry not to sell him. But he won’t relent. Not even for my sake.”

Mark wasn’t surprised. Once set on a course, Henry could rarely be moved. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

“It’s Winnifred who deserves your pity, not me. You should have seen the look on her face when I told her. She was crushed.”

“And this is why you’ve taken to your room?”

“That’s not the reason.” Beryl looked out the window again. Her face was pale. “Henry knows about me.”

Mark went still. “What about you?”

“Everything. He knows what happened with the sleeping powder. Why I went to Paris last year with Aunt Hortensia. He’s known all along. About my melancholy. All of it.”

Mark was thunderstruck. “How?”

“Mr. Cooper told him shortly after I left. And Henry—” Her voice cracked. “He’s so dreadfully disappointed in me.”

“The devil he is.”

“He says I failed the first test as his future wife. And he’s right. I’ve failed at everything. I’ve been selfish and self-indulgent. It’s past time I grew up.”

Mark’s temper rose. How dared he. How dared he. “He said this to you?”

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”

“From whom? Not me. Not your mother. Henry has no right—”

“Mr. Cooper told him so. It’s what all doctors believe.”

“They don’t, I promise you.”

“Indeed, they do.” Beryl rose from her seat. “Here. I’ll show you.” She crossed the room to her bed, sinking down on the floor beside it in a pool of white skirts and petticoats. Sliding her hand underneath the mattress, she withdrew something that looked like a magazine.

Resuming her seat, she opened it on a folded page. “It’s here, plain as day.”

Mark frowned. “What is that?”

“A copy of the Provincial Medical and Surgical Gazette. Mr. Cooper gave it to Mama last year, so that she would know what it was she was dealing with. He meant me. My melancholy.” She extended it to him. Her hand shook. “You can read it for yourself.”