Page 60 of The Baron Takes a Wife

“I wish forgiveness was paramount to my family,” Annamaria murmured, her voice tinged with bitterness.

“Do they know about Eva?”

“My brother does. He came to see me once. After Dan was transported and I was on my own. I think he meant to take me back, but then he saw my figure. He called me a whore and left. I don’t know if he told the rest of the family.”

Elena took the young woman’s hand. She felt the same fear that her family would reject her, but that fear faded more and more with time. Now, she would be happy just to know they were alive, even if they considered her fallen. Somehow, she felt in her bones that they would forgive her. Maybe she was coming to forgive herself if she could imagine that.

“Would it help if I wrote them? That we are friends and that you have a respectable position? I know some look down on me, but I am a baroness by some twist of fate.”

“You would do that?”

“It’s the least I can do.” Elena shrugged, embarrassed by the difference in the current social statuses.

Annamaria turned her hand and squeezed Elena’s. Despite her new position, Annamaria’s hand was still skeletal, and her skin rough. Elena hoped, in a couple of months, now that Annamaria had a new place to stay and a new position, her fingers would be less bony and maybe covered in a bit of ink. The thought of ink-speckled hands, like David’s when he sat all day in his study, suddenly warmed Elena. They eased into a comfortable silence for several minutes.

Watching Eva and Goliath play, Elena was struck by a sudden vision of a small child chasing Goliath. A child with her golden-brown hair and David’s green eyes. She had not thought about children before David mentioned French letters the other night. She had started her courses a day or two later, so she had not thought much of it since then. Before, she had only considered children in the abstract, as to whether David wanted an heir, but never their actual child. Their family. She had agreed she wanted to wait until she heard news of her family’s fate, but in this small park, she felt such a longing for that scene of a small child chasing a dog, with David sitting with his arm around her on the bench, laughing with them. What if it took years to hear anything about her family? Could she bear leaving this future for that one? That would not be fair to David to keep him in purgatory while she waited. And maybe it would not be fair to herself either. She loved the passion between them but had to admit that anything more still scared her. And yet, that romantic, reckless side of her was coming to care for him. She heard his words whispered in her ear. I love you, Elena. I love you so much. Stay with me. That reckless, romantic side wanted so badly to trust in such words. To believe in a possible future, in a life here with him. But she had such trouble trusting that side of herself. She had made castles in the air before, only to find they were smoke and ash. She would have to work on forgiving herself, to reconcile those two sides together, before she was ready to make any decisions.

“Do you regret it? Running away with a man?” Elena asked the other woman.

Annamaria took a long time to respond, continuing to watch her child as she spoke. “Yes and no. I suppose that is not an answer, but it is the best I have. I would never trade my time with Eva. I would do anything for her. She is my life and my blood. But I wish she could know her family. I wish they had not cast me out. That has been the very devil.”

They both unconsciously crossed themselves.

“And the man, would you trade the time with him?”

Annamaria shifted, staring off at her daughter. “I don’t know. It was the greatest and most passionate love I’ve ever known. But was it really love if he left when things got hard?”

“He did not leave, though. You said he was transported.”

“Same difference. I told him not to go out that night, but he said we needed the money. He always said we needed the money.”

“Would you like me to ask my husband to find out where he was sent? He might be able to find out through shipping or his friend in the Foreign Office—” Annamaria’s body snapped rigidly, and Elena went quiet.

“I ought to know as his wife, but we never had the chance to marry before he was transported. We were supposed to elope that night, but I never saw him again. He always said we needed more money before we could marry. My last name isn’t even O’Donnell. It’s Marinetti.” She turned away. “I shouldn’t have told you that. Now I’m even more fallen in your eyes.”

“My eyes try not to judge too harshly. We all do impulsive things when we are young and think ourselves in love. It can cost us a great many things.” She tapped her scar gently, which drew Annamaria’s eyes. Elena noticed that some of the rigidity left the young woman’s face and shoulders. She wished Annamaria hadn’t had to lie to her, but she understood why she did. Better to be the wife or widow of a transported man than an unwed mother in the eyes of society.

“Thank you for your offer, but I’d have to think about it.” Annamaria sighed. “I have not yet decided what to tell Eva about her father. But you may write to my family if you so wish. My parents cannot read in English, but my brother can. The Marinettis of Clerkenwell. I can find the address somewhere, I’m sure.”

Elena nodded. She decided she would write to them as soon as possible. Even if she could not put her own family back together, she could at least try to help Annamaria. They settled into another comfortable silence as Elena basked in her renewed purpose.

Suddenly, the light shifted, and Elena was overwhelmed by the sensation of being stuck in a bad dream, but she could not quite put her finger on what exactly made her feel that way. The scene around her was idyllic, the laughter and barking, the warm day. And yet she felt a whisper of something on the edge of her senses. She looked at the ground, at the grass. When she was alone in the world, shadows had always been her friend, telling her who or what was behind her without having to look around. The sun had returned, but the shadow on the ground in front of her was too large and too tall to be made by just herself and Annamaria sitting on the bench. As she gazed at the ground before her, Elena slowly realized that there was no longer a breeze, as if something was blocking the air behind her, and she froze, not daring to turn around. She willed Annamaria to look at her so she could catch her eye, but Annamaria was still watching Eva and Goliath. Goliath, who was running rapidly from a distance. Running toward them. Turn around. She felt the words as if someone had whispered them in a language she used to know. Her senses reeled from the eerily familiar scent of cloves she had never known in England. Turn around and face me. Goliath was barreling toward her at full speed, the child trying to keep up. Elena dared to look again at the shadow, but it receded. She turned slowly, and there was nothing behind them but air. Then she saw it. On the bench to her left were four daisies that looked freshly plucked. Her breath caught in her chest as she heard her grandmother’s voice on the subject of flowers: an odd number of flowers are for the living. An even number are for the dead. There were likely very few in all of England who would know that superstition. It must be a coincidence. But it was a coincidence that she could not stop thinking about all the way home.

Chapter Eighteen

A few days before they were planning to leave London, Elena found herself sitting at the piano once more. She tried to remember the lessons she’d had with David, but all she could recall was a searing heat, and somehow ending up on top of the piano. They could never tell Irene about what they had done on her sacred piano, Elena decided, or they would all surely die of mortification. Irene was extremely fond of the Broadwood, and Elena had to admit, it was a beautiful instrument, though she did not have many to compare it to.

Sitting at the piano, she could feel Goliath looking at her while he sat on the floor with one eye open. Sometimes, he reminded her of herself, always looking out for danger, for that moment everything would slip away. She had thought he might be a good companion for David, with their wounded legs and bodies, but she was beginning to wonder if he might be even more of a kindred spirit to her.

Giving him a small nod, she set her fingers on the keys. She pictured in her mind what David had her do before, the feel of her hands on his…and she pressed down. Goliath howled. Like before, she was reminded of the small but powerful difference between noise and music. Perhaps she could convince Irene to take her on as a student if the school got off the ground. When it got off the ground, she corrected herself.

“Are you trying to teach Goliath how to sing?”

She looked up to see her husband casually leaning against the doorframe and felt the heat of the memories of the room pulse in her veins. She ought to be embarrassed by her horrible playing, but he knew the extent of her musical abilities. He was supposed to be her teacher, after all.

“I thought my teacher would help me develop my skills, but alas…” she trailed off dramatically.

He walked over and sat on the bench beside her, setting down his cane and pausing to scratch Goliath on the head. “I suppose we did get rather…distracted in our previous lessons. But I have to admit, I live for those kinds of distractions.”