The invincible miss cust, p.24
The Invincible Miss Cust, page 24
“What is really going on?”
I shrugged and tried to step around her. She blocked me.
“No. Not until you tell me.”
It was a relief to talk about Willie and tell Dorothy how much I loved him. I could not pretend that he did not reciprocate my feelings but did not admit that we were lovers. Did she realize that? Was it clear to her? I was not sure, for although Dorothy was emotionally intuitive—bar the time that she had told me about her and Edward’s sexless relationship—she never spoke of carnal matters. Neither did she now.
“But you will not marry? Not ever?” she asked.
“No.”
“It does not seem right. I understand that there are differences and perhaps some people will not approve but—”
“Willie is adamant.”
Dorothy was quiet for a moment. “Is that fair? What about you?”
“Can you imagine what my family would say if I married an Irishman? A nationalist at that. My mother would finally die of shame just as she has threatened to for so long.”
“You still care about what she thinks? After all this time?” Dorothy sighed.
“I cannot help it; I am a Cust even if I have tried to pretend otherwise.”
“Do you ever hear from your mother? Charles? Any of your siblings?”
I shook my head.
Dorothy sighed again. “So Mr. Byrne is adamant he will not marry you, and you agree it is better that way? That you will continue as is?”
“Yes.”
“What if he decides otherwise and finds a Catholic, an Irish woman, who meets the requirements of his faith, politics, and people? What will that do to you?”
“It will not happen. He would not do that to me.”
Dorothy gave a small smile. “I hope not. It is just that complete love usually includes commitment—”
“He will not abandon me and marry someone else,” I said, wondering what Dorothy might say if I said that complete love also included passion, something that she and Edward, though committed and otherwise intimate, had set aside.
“So you have everything you desire here, Aleen? Love and the work you have always dreamed of?”
“Yes. I have everything I want.”
“Then I am happy for you.”
We went into the lodge. Dorothy put her hat on the table and turned to me. “Bertie will be disappointed.”
I smiled. “Of course, he will not be. And anyway, Dorothy, you cannot mention a word of this to anyone. Not to Bertie, Edward, or your parents. I cannot have Charles and my mother finding out. If there is any chance of my having any kind of relationship with my family in the future, they must never know about Mr. Byrne.”
Dorothy had barely been gone a week when I finally accepted that I was pregnant. The signs could not be ignored. Not only had I not bled for a while, but my breasts were swollen. It was, however, the otherwise unexplained bouts of nausea that confirmed my state.
Had I thought about having children? Of course, I had. When I was a girl, I dreamed of raising a family like the Widdringtons. As Major and Lady Widdrington had done with Dorothy, Bertie, Ida, and Gerard, I would take my children riding, permit them as many animals as they wished, and speak openly to them about all manner of subjects. We would take our meals together and discuss world affairs. I would encourage them, girls and boys, to do what made them happy and to follow their dreams.
I stopped imagining becoming a mother when I began studying. It had never been a priority to me, and I no longer had time to indulge the whimsy. I conceded though, that when I fell in love with Willie, there were moments I fantasized about filling Castlestrange with our progeny. Mostly, since I knew we would never marry, I shut down the thoughts quickly and accepted it would not be possible.
Had Willie and I spoken of the risk of my falling pregnant? We had not. His faith insisted that using contraception was intrinsically evil. We did not discuss it, but I did wonder whether using contraception was considered by Catholics as sinful as intercourse without marriage. Or did they believe it was worse?
Certainly, while we did not speak of it, we knew how our bodies worked, and I especially understood mine. Or so I thought. I kept notes of my menses, noting ovulation and fertile days. During that time, I withheld myself from Willie, and I knew he understood why. I even sensed that he was grateful for my prudence. Alas, I was not as accurate in my monitoring as I imagined I was.
Hoping I was mistaken, I hesitated a few days to say anything to Willie. However, after he suggested I was becoming “strangely squeamish” when I dashed from the stall at Castlestrange to expel my breakfast while he was suturing the wound on a horse a client had left with us, I could not contain myself.
“I am not squeamish, have never been, and will never be,” I said, hot and annoyed. “I regurgitated my food because I am pregnant.”
He froze at the stable door. I saw something unfamiliar in his eyes. Was it fear?
“Pregnant?” It was as if the word required great effort to utter.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why else would I throw up so frequently? And these?” I pointed to my chest, where my bosom strained against the fabric of my dress. “And the lack of blood.”
He sat down heavily on a wooden stool. “My God. What will we do?”
I said nothing. The only option, I believed in that moment, was to get married. Our differences no longer mattered. Neither did what others might think. It was not about religion, class, or nationality. It was not about society. It was not only about Willie and me anymore. What mattered was the new life we had created.
It was not necessary to discuss how he would be judged for marrying out of his faith. It was a fact, but we would ride the storm of shock and scandal together. People would grow accustomed to us as a couple. Our work and the practice would outlast the wagging tongues. Athleague would not oust us. Willie was loved and admired for everything he was and did, and I, at least, was admired for my skills.
I said nothing but hoped he was thinking the same. We would be all right. We would get married. I would convert if necessary. We would have a child. And another if we wished. Our business would flourish. We could live the life we deserved. Together.
“What will we do?” he repeated, quieter now.
“What can we do?”
Willie shook his head, silent. He looked sad and defeated. It angered me to see him crushed. Where was the man who stood up for me against the Royal College? The man who dared to offer me a job when no one else would? Where was the person who every day filled me with pride when he came up with solutions to new problems in the animals we treated? Where was the man who looked at me with love and desire, and told me he could not imagine life without me?
“There is only one thing we can do, Willie. We need to get married.”
He stood up, raked his fingers through his hair. Spencer slunk away.
“No,” he said. “We cannot get married.”
“But what—”
“We have been through this, Aleen. We cannot. You know that.”
“I was not with child then. Your child. This changes everything.”
“Yes. No. It changes nothing. Can you not see what it would do to us? To this?” He opened his arms, gesturing wildly around the yard.
I felt ill again. Not because of my hormones this time but because of his words. How could I have imagined that he loved me if he was too selfish to accept that we were going to have to make some sacrifices? Was our love not worth falling temporarily from grace? Did he not love me enough to defend my honor and support me and his child despite his religious and political beliefs? Was Dorothy right? Would Willie abandon me because of his stubborn principles and his inability to see how duplicitous he was? What a fool I had been.
“If we cannot get married, then I shall have to leave.”
Willie said nothing. Perhaps it was what he wanted. He wanted me gone. That way the problem would be solved for him.
“I shall return to England and do what has to be done,” I said, trying to stop my voice from trembling and willing him to take me in his arms. He did not.
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think I mean? If you do not want me, a child, a family, what am I supposed to do?”
His face turned red. “You would surely not do that? Abort a life.”
“What?” I was appalled. It was not what I had meant. “I will—”
“My God, Aleen! Can you not see! That is why I cannot marry you. Your unholy, Protestant ways are repulsive.”
“Repulsive? I will tell you what is repulsive, Willie: your pitiful excuses for not marrying me. Your cowardly way of hiding behind your God, your country, and your proud reputation every time things do not go your way. If I am repulsive, it is better than being the coward you are. How I ever imagined I loved you, I do not know.”
“That is absurd. Be reasonable, Aleen. We—”
I could not listen and fled to the lodge, thinking about how poorly he understood me. Could Willie truly believe that I was so lacking in character and my love for him so insignificant that I would, in a heated discussion, make the rash decision to abort our child? How evil did he imagine me, my God, my people, and our beliefs to be? Was Catholic and Irish propaganda really that powerful?
Slamming the door behind me, I threw myself on the settee. Bridget came into the room, wide-eyed.
“My lady, I wasn’t expecting you. Are you unwell?”
“Yes. Something I ate does not agree with me. Will you bring me some tea? No milk or sugar.”
I sat there, sipping tea for a while. Spencer lay at my feet. I listened for Willie’s footsteps, a tapping at the door. I imagined his eyes, full of regret. Asking for forgiveness. He did not come.
When I returned to the practice, Willie was no longer there. I went to the stables where the groom told me he had ridden away hours ago. There was no note on the schedule.
That afternoon, I hugged Nasser and Spencer goodbye, asked Bridget to take the Setter to the main house, and began my journey to England.
Chapter 25
1904
Northumberland, England
Dorothy was not at Fallodon when I arrived in Northumberland, so I went on to Newton Hall, where I spent two days with Major Fitz and Lady Widdrington. For the first time in my life, I found no sanctuary there. After I turned down the second invitation from the major to go riding, Lady Widdrington took my hand and led me into the garden.
“Can you not tell me what is ailing you, my dear?” she said.
“I am exhausted.” I tried to smile. “I needed to get away. I will be myself again soon. I promise.”
She looked at me, clearly unconvinced. “You should go to Dorothy.”
There was nothing more I wanted than to be with Dorothy. She was the only one I felt ready to confide in, but it did not seem right to go to her in Hampshire. Edward had recently begun his service as British foreign secretary and was busier than ever. It was one thing to visit Dorothy at Fallodon, but their home near Itchen Abbas was the couple’s private haven.
“The cottage is her and Edward’s escape from everyone. I do not want to intrude.”
“You could never intrude on Dorothy. Your friendship is one of her greatest joys, and I think you will find great pleasure in the birds, fish, and flowers along the stream. It is a most remarkable place. What is more, Edward is typically in London during the week.”
So it was that I left for Hampshire the following day where I was warmly welcomed by Dorothy, and with full-body-wagging enthusiasm from Nugget and indifference from Honey. The Pomeranians were in good health and very much at home in Edward and Dorothy’s cottage, which was much more than I had imagined it might be. It was, as Dorothy had described, a tiny place, which, surrounded by trees and plants that seemed to tumble toward it in green abandon, was all but hidden from sight until one reached the doorstep. But for the bird song, gentle swooshing of the breeze, and the burble of the river, it was quiet. I could see why it suited my friend. As Lady Widdrington had foretold, Edward was in London, and while I could tell by her puzzled expression that Dorothy was concerned by my unplanned visit, she did not press me to explain.
It was the next day, as we sat on a grassy verge alongside the river with the dogs, Dorothy making notes in the diary she and Edward kept about the birds they saw and heard, that I finally told her.
“You were right about Mr. Byrne,” I said, rubbing Nugget’s ears.
She put the book down. “What happened?”
“He has cast me aside.”
“He has another woman?”
I shook my head and felt my throat constrict. “I am pregnant.”
Dorothy stared at me. I wondered, as she blinked several times, if she was taken aback. Did she, despite having been at Castlestrange and having worked out that I was in love, imagine my relationship with Willie to be chaste? Or was she simply shocked by his behavior?
She adjusted her position as if the thick grass beneath her skirts was suddenly uncomfortable. “He cast you aside because you are pregnant?”
“Yes. Well, not in so many words. I said we must, despite everything, get married. He…he declined, said again it was impossible and left.”
“Declined and left? Where did he go?”
I shrugged. What did it matter?
“That is why you came back to England?”
“Yes.”
“Shall we walk?” she asked, rising without waiting for me to reply. The dogs trotted ahead of us along the path.
The River Itchen, in places as green as the grass on its banks due to the density of the watercress, flowed slow and clear. The shady path traced the waterway, meandering along the water’s edge and then looping away to circle trees and thickets of bush. Butterflies, dragon flies, bees, and other insects I knew not how to name flittered about. Dorothy pointed out not one, but two kingfishers. I tried not to think about the blue of Willie’s eyes.
“There is a family of otters who play on the banks near the cottage every morning and most evenings,” said my friend. “I will introduce you to them tonight.”
“I had no idea it was this beautiful,” I said, “despite your poetic descriptions.”
“There is no place more tranquil. Edward calls it his ‘touch point with sanity,’ particularly after the madness of parliament and busyness of the city. He stands knee-deep fishing for trout for hours at a time over the weekends. When I ask if he has had a bite, he says, ‘I have no idea. Perhaps.’ It does not matter; he is replete.”
I felt a pang at the warmth in her voice as she spoke of Edward. How hasty I had been to pity her when I discovered passion with Willie. Now, I realized that, while their life together might be without the sensual pleasures I had experienced, their love would endure. Whatever it was Willie and I had felt would not.
“What will you do?” she asked.
“I do not know. I hoped being away would provide clarity, that I might wake up one morning and have the answer.”
“Are you certain he will not change his mind about marrying you? Your condition was a shock, to him and you. Perhaps he simply needed time to get used to the idea?”
I shook my head. “He was very clear—as he has been all along—that getting married is out of the question.”
Dorothy looked across the river. “I wish I knew the solution.”
“So do I,” I replied. “But I do not expect you to have the answers. Talking to you and sharing your peace help.”
“Stay for as long as you like.”
I did not find any answers at Itchen Abbas, but I did find tranquility. The quiet, undetermined nature of the days and the pace of life were very different from the busy, urgent years I had spent at Castlestrange. It took me a few days to learn to wake up slowly and remember that there were no appointments on the practice schedule to harry me. I tried not to think how busy Willie might be without me there.
Dorothy and I took our coffee onto the small veranda and watched the otters roll down the muddy banks and frolic in the water. We strolled to the village to replenish supplies, Honey and Nugget at our heels. We spent hours beneath the trees, pointing out birds to each other. Dorothy’s knowledge of ornithology was remarkable. She recognized practically every bird by sight and sound and had interesting facts on each. Letters from Edward arrived every second day. I watched a little jealously as my friend read and reread each one, her eyes sparkling.
The weekend approached, and having been at cottage for almost a week, I knew it was time to go. I did not want to intrude on Edward’s time with his wife. I would, I thought, go back to Newton Hall, go riding with Major Fitz, and tell Lady Widdrington about my condition. While Dorothy was my sanctuary, her mother, I had realized, was the best person to ask for practical advice. I was about to go and find Dorothy to ask if she would like to come to the village to examine the train timetable when she found me in the garden.
“I have news from Edward,” she said, holding another letter. “He says your mother is very ill. He called on Ursula this week. She is very worried and has sent for Charles.”
“They are in Kensington?”
“Yes.” She looked at me, eyes narrowing slightly. “You do know that Charles sold Leasowe, do you not?”
“No. I did not know.” It seemed odd that I would not visit the castle again, despite my long absence.
“Do you think I should go? To my mother, I mean?”
Dorothy nodded.
London was muggier and busier than I recalled, with more carriages, horses, and people on the streets than ever. There were even a few motorcars chugging about. I examined the horses who clip-clopped past my hansom cab as I was driven to my mother’s house. What a magnificent spectacle of animals they were—glossy, proud, and strong—against the foggy backdrop of the city. A tall man rode by. The sight of his muscular thighs against the saddle made me think of Willie and how I loved to watch him, as nimble as a weasel, mount Zeus, settle into the saddle, and gallop away. I could not, however, picture Willie in London, even though he had lived there while at the Royal Veterinary College. What did he do when he was not studying? Surely the paved streets, throngs of people, and manicured parks stifled him as they did me?
