The Vow (17 page)
“Was Tuttle arrested?”
Samuel shook his head. “James was just about to turn him in when Tuttle Senior arrived on our doorstep. He begged us not to press charges against his only son. He even offered to forgive Reiver’s loan.”
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Hannah glanced at her husband. “Though I want to see Tuttle pay for what he did, Reiver will probably agree to such terms if the mill will benefit.”
Samuel stared down at his hands resting on his knees. “Hannah, about Tuttle’s accusations—”
“They’re false, of course. When Reiver is well enough, he’ll tell me so himself.”
“I’m sure he will tell the truth.”
And Samuel left.
Reiver awoke to excruciating pain and Hannah’s familiar worried face floating above him.
“Don’t try to talk,” she whispered, her eyes filled with a concern he surely didn’t merit. “Dr. Bradley said you’ll get better, but you have to rest.”
So he wasn’t going to die after all. He thanked God for making Tuttle such a bad shot.
He rewarded Hannah with a faint smile, then closed his eyes and sought refuge from the pain in blissful darkness.
“You just couldn’t keep your hands off her, could you?” Samuel looked down at Reiver sitting up in bed, his left side swathed in bandages, and shook his head in disgust.
“I’m an invalid,” Reiver retorted. “Don’t you have the decency to wait until I’ve fully recovered to skin me alive?”
“Oh, I think you’re strong enough to hear what I have to say.”
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Two weeks had passed since Amos Tuttle shot Reiver, and he was now well enough to sit up in bed for a few hours each day. Dr. Bradley said he could take a few steps tomorrow, so Samuel didn’t feel the least bit guilty in confronting his brother with a few unpleasant truths.
“Everyone in Coldwater is laughing at you just like they laughed at Pa.
‘Rummy had a weakness for the bottle,’ they’re saying, ‘and his boy has a weakness for married women. Like father, like son.’”
Reiver turned crimson. “That’s a low blow. You say that again and I’m going to get out of this bed and smash your face in. I’m not like Pa in any way.”
You really can’t see it
, Samuel thought.
He jammed his fists into his pockets. “Was she worth it? You almost died, and now everyone in Coldwater and half of Hartford knows about your adulterous fling.”
Anger hardened Reiver’s pale, drawn features. “Don’t make it sound so tawdry. I love Cecelia. I always have.”
“And that justifies it?” Samuel flung up his hands. “Didn’t you stop to think about all the people who would be hurt if you were discovered? What about your wife and your own children, not to mention Cecelia and that hopeless, lovesick husband of hers? Of all the thoughtless, selfish—”
“Lower your voice before someone hears you.”
“It doesn’t matter. Everyone
knows
!”
Reiver leaned forward. “What’s happened to Cecelia? Has Tuttle cast her out?”
“I’m delighted to see that your first concern is your wife, as always.”
“You don’t understand. You never did. I do care about Hannah.” He hesitated. “She hasn’t said one word to me about Tuttle’s accusation. Has she said anything to you?”
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“Nothing. I think she’s trying to ignore the incident by working herself to death. She’s at the mill—”
“The mill? What is she doing there?”
“Who do you think has been running it in your absence, you dolt? She opens it every morning, sees that the girls have plenty of work, and locks it up at night.
When she’s not doing that, she’s either nursing your worthless hide or running the household like a general.”
“Hannah’s strong. She will come through this unscathed. It’s Cecelia who stands to lose everything.”
“Then why didn’t you think of that before you started up with her again?”
“Because I can’t help myself.” Reiver winced in pain and leaned back against the pillows. “I have to know what’s happened to her, Samuel. Will you find out for me?”
“I wish I could pity you, but I don’t.” Samuel reached into his back pocket and flung a letter at Reiver. “I went to Tuttle Senior yesterday to discuss your terms for forgiving the loan. Just as I was leaving, Cecelia stopped me in the hall and asked me to give you this. She said that it would explain everything.”
“How did she look?” Reiver asked eagerly, pouncing on the letter. “If Tuttle has hurt her, I’ll—”
“You needn’t worry. She looked tired, sad, and red-eyed, as if she’d been crying for weeks, but fine otherwise.”
“When I’m better, I’ll go to see her for myself.”
Samuel groaned in frustration. “Do you want Tuttle to kill you for sure this time? Leave the poor man’s wife alone!”
Reiver ignored him and read the letter:
My beloved,
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Please forgive me. If I had known that Amos intended to harm you, I would have
stopped him somehow. Thank God you will recover. If Amos had succeeded, I would not
want to go on living.
I suspect one of my servants noted my frequent absences and betrayed us. Amos
followed me one day when I went to meet you. When I returned home, he confronted me
and threatened to take my son away unless I told him the truth. Please forgive me, but I
had no choice.
Now I must write the hardest words I have ever had to say. We must never see each
other again. Amos swears he has forgiven me and will forget my infidelity because he still
loves me, but I must forswear you and move to New York City with him. His father has
arranged for him to work in a bank there. I have agreed to go with my husband.
It is for the best. You must forget me as I must forget you.
Keep well,
Cecelia
Reiver turned white and the letter fluttered from his hand.
“What is it?” Samuel snapped.
“She and Tuttle have reconciled and they’re moving away. She never wants to see me again.” Reiver rubbed his eyes. “I can’t believe she agreed to it.”
Samuel raised one brow. “Under the circumstances, what else could she do?
She’s chosen to salvage what’s left of her marriage, and I commend her.”
Reiver said nothing, but the bleak devastation in his eyes spoke what was in his heart.
Samuel rose. “I find it difficult to feel too sorry for you, brother. You brought this disaster on yourself and deserve everything you’re going to get.”
“I don’t want your sympathy,” Reiver replied, his voice thick and trembling.
“I want you to leave me alone now. I need to rest.”
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“Oh, you’d better get all the rest you can. You still have to explain yourself to Hannah, and I wouldn’t be in your shoes for all the silk in China.”
A week later Reiver realized he could no longer postpone the inevitable.
That morning, after he finished the breakfast that Hannah had brought to him on a tray, he rose, dressed, and went downstairs, where he found Mrs.
Hardy sitting in the parlor, watching Abigail play quietly.
“Where’s Hannah?” Reiver asked.
Mrs. Hardy looked up. “She’s where she’s been every morning since you were shot, at the mill.”
Now he remembered. “Will you tell her I need to see her? I’ll watch Abigail.”
The housekeeper nodded and walked off, returning with Hannah five minutes later.
Hannah entered the parlor, concern written on her face. “Isn’t it too soon for you to be dressed and about?”
“Yesterday Dr. Bradley told me that I’ve made a remarkable recovery, and may go about my business.” Reiver glanced down at Abigail seated on the floor, staring at her blocks as if choosing one were a momentous decision. “Would you have Mrs. Hardy take Abigail outside to play? I have to talk to you.”
God, how he dreaded this! His palms felt damp and his mouth dry.
Mrs. Hardy scooped up Abigail and left while Hannah eyed her husband warily.
Reiver closed the parlor door against curious ears and turned to face his wife. He took a deep breath and blurted, “Tuttle told the truth.”
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Hannah’s eyes widened and she froze. She couldn’t lie to herself any longer.
All color drained from her face, leaving her as pale as death, and she shook like an autumn leaf in the wind.
Reiver stepped forward to catch her. “Hannah—”
“Don’t touch me!” She backed away and collapsed onto the settee, where she sat dazed and trembling. Finally her eyes focused on him. “Mrs. Tuttle was your—your mistress? Her husband found out, and that’s why he shot you?”
Reiver couldn’t bear the pain in her ragged voice, and his gaze slid to the floor. “Yes.”
“How long?”
“Hannah—”
“I said,
how long
!”
Her vehemence threw him off balance. He hadn’t expected such a reaction from his dutiful, compliant wife. “While she was still a widow. A year before you and I married.”
“And after we were married?”
“I still…saw her.”
“Did you love her?”
I still do.
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you marry her instead of me?” A bitter smile twisted her mouth. “How stupid of me to forget. You married me for my uncle’s Racebrook land, nothing more. It’s unfortunate that Mrs. Tuttle didn’t have something of comparable value, then I would have been spared.”
Reiver shot her an annoyed look. “What does it matter? It’s over. We all have to put it behind us and get on with our lives.”
Hannah bolted to her feet, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “Oh, I see. I am just supposed to forget that you’ve broken our marriage vows and betrayed 148
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me with another woman? I’m supposed to pretend I don’t hear the pitying whispers behind my back wherever I go? I’m supposed to ignore Benjamin’s tears when he comes home from school?”
For the first time white-hot shame slammed through Reiver. “My son comes home crying? Why?”
“Why do you think? Because the other children call his father vile names that they hear from their own parents.” Tears welled up in Hannah’s eyes. “But he never says a word because he knows it will upset me. And he does idolize his father so.”
He hung his head. “I didn’t realize—”
“Didn’t realize? Dear God in heaven, are you so—so arrogant to think you’re the only man in the world? That your actions wouldn’t affect anyone else? Well, they have.” She shook her head in disgust. “And we’re supposed to pretend that nothing happened?”
“Unless you are prepared to take a gun and finish what Tuttle started, or walk out on me, Hannah, that is exactly what we must do.”
“Oh, don’t tempt me, Reiver Shaw!”
Once again, her unexpected vehemence disconcerted him. “I’m sorry for hurting you and the boys, but I almost paid with my life.” He extended his hand.
“Now I’m asking you to forgive me.”
She wiped away her tears. “I don’t know if I can.”
His hand fell to his side. “Perhaps it’s time I moved back into your bedchamber.”
Hannah recoiled. “And risk siring another idiot like Abigail?”
She gathered her skirts and ran from the parlor. Reiver made no attempt to stop her.
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Hannah left the house and kept walking. She planned to walk until she fell off the face of the Earth, but when she reached the tobacco field where she had first met Reiver, she stopped.
She settled herself atop the hard dry-stone wall. The tall, broad-leafed plants rippled like a green sea in the faint June breeze, fragrant with dusty red earth and rain to come.
“Damn you, Reiver Shaw!” She screamed so loud, she startled a flock of crows that scattered into the overcast sky like a blast of buckshot, their raucous screeches mocking her.
Haw haw, haw haw.
Hannah cried, great choking sobs that shook her so hard, she had to grasp the warm, flat stones to keep her from toppling o the wall. Even fresh tears couldn’t wash away the pain.
The soft, slow clopping of hooves coming down the road sent her fumbling for her handkerchief to dry her eyes and blow her nose. Once she composed herself, she looked over her right shoulder and saw that the horseman was Samuel.
He stopped his chestnut mount a few feet away and looked down at her. “So he told you.”
She nodded, her eyes watering helplessly.
“Oh, Hannah…” Samuel dismounted in one fluid motion and strode over to her, kicking up dust. “I’m so sorry.” He climbed the stone wall and sat down close to her, but did not attempt to touch her.
She said, “You’ve known about Mrs. Tuttle all along, haven’t you?”
He gazed out over the field rather than look into her tormented eyes. “Yes.
She’s been my brother’s mistress for years.”
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“Why didn’t you, of all people, tell me? I thought you were my friend. I thought that I could trust you.”
Samuel flinched at the scathing reproach in her voice. “What good would it have done? You would have been hurt unnecessarily, and I couldn’t bear that.”
“It wouldn’t have been worse than the agony I feel now.” She closed her eyes and fought back tears. “I’ve tried so hard to make the best of my lot and be a loving, loyal wife to Reiver. I’ve slept with him, borne his children, tried to share his passion for the mill. And what is the thanks I get? He betrays me with another woman.”
Samuel clasped her cold hand in his warm, solid one, offering comfort.
Hannah looked at him. “You should have seen him in the parlor when he told me. He acted as though he had done nothing more reprehensible than—than steal a pie from the kitchen windowsill. ‘We all have to put it behind us and get on with our lives,’ he said to me. It doesn’t matter that he’s shamed his family and made us the laughingstock of Coldwater.”