Chapter
Twenty-Eight

Martha guided Nora toward the house. The stiff brown grass crunched beneath their boots. “Do show poor Lucius some grace.”

Nora pressed her lips together. “He has made a series of terrible choices that have indebted my family and destroyed my father’s legacy. My mother isn’t well. What do you suppose this will do to her?”

Martha tucked Nora’s hand into the crook of her elbow as they entered the parlor. Nora usually loved this room, with its jasper-colored anthemion paper, floor-to-ceiling windows, and ornate moldings, but a shadow had been cast over her home. It no longer belonged to them.

After Martha had settled Nora into a chair, she sat opposite her. “You had the benefit of a wonderful father during your formative years. Lucius wasn’t so lucky.”

Lucius never spoke of his family—except for Martha—and Nora knew nothing about his parents, except that they had died years ago. She realized she’d never thought to ask him about his childhood.

Her aunt twisted the lace at her wrists and sighed so deeply, her generous bosom rose. “Our father, too, gave in to the scourge of gambling. He was a lawyer by trade, the son of a lawyer, and had never experienced need or want. When he married my mother, who was beneath him in class and education, his parents disinherited him. He died when Lucius was sixteen and I was eighteen. We were left penniless.”

Compassion pricked Nora’s heart, an emotion that, when directed toward Lucius, felt wholly unfamiliar. She shifted in her seat, and the beginnings of empathy soured her stomach.

“What could my mother—the daughter of a blacksmith—do? She’d always been beautiful—I take after my father.” Martha chuckled. “Men . . . wanted her. So she did what she had to do in order to take care of her children.”

An ache burned the back of Nora’s throat, and she saw Sita’s beautiful face. Such different stories, but they could have had the same outcome. How terrible for Lucius, watching his mother debase herself.

She looked down at her lap. A year ago, she might have judged his mother harshly, but she’d learned that life could be very hard. “She must have loved you very much.”

“She did,” Martha said, her words soft and ripe with untold stories.

Heavy steps brought Lucius into the room. “She may have loved us, but she made us a target for derision and acrimony. It would have been better had we starved.”

Nora frowned. “You can’t possibly mean that.”

He stood in front of her, his barrel chest and crossed arms meant to intimidate. “I do mean it. Women, when given a chance, will always stumble toward sin and depravity. My mother could have found a different way, but she did what was easy. Expedient.”

Martha huffed and drew herself up so that she matched Lucius’s stance. “Much like you, it seems. Gambling instead of taking better care of your finances. Expedient, indeed.”

He grunted as though Martha had hit him in the middle. “You’ve changed since your husband died. Every woman needs a man to keep her on a straight path so that her emotions don’t consume her good sense.”

“Nonsense. I married a terrible man so you might have a future.” Martha turned flashing eyes toward Nora. “For all my husband’s cruelty, he did send Lucius to school, and I’ll never regret my choice for that reason alone. But I will not marry again.” She tipped her chin at Nora. “Lucius, you have a bright, sensible young woman sitting in the middle of your parlor.”

He didn’t even glance in Nora’s direction. “She is the epitome of unsexed behavior and an overreliance on emotion. Her conduct in India showed an extreme lack of logic.”

“How do you know what happened in India?” Nora demanded.

Lucius did look at her then—though she imagined he didn’t see her—and a proud smile pulled his mouth into a caricature. “You received a letter from someone named Jeffrey Steed. I knew you were hiding something, so I took it upon myself to read it. He mentioned how foolish it was that you interfered in local matters and went on to recount your responsibility in having the camp burned down. After you left, the rest of the team was run out of India. They did have enough work to keep their commitment, though. Does that make you feel better about your stupidity?”

Gooseflesh rose along her arms and legs. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you. You’ve been indulged, and a woman indulged is a dangerous thing. I’ve already lost one family to poor decisions made by an irrational and unfeminine woman. I won’t allow you to destroy this one.”

“Give me the letter.”

He gave her a hard look, then turned and left the room.

Nora stared after him. “He is unbelievable. He thought nothing of ruining my future.”

Martha clucked her tongue. “You can come live with me.” She dropped her voice. “Lucius must, too, though he doesn’t yet realize it. I certainly won’t be giving him the money he wants, given his history. Between the two of us—I’m sorry, Nora, but your mother will be no use to us in this matter—we will ensure Lucius grows in his understanding of women. We’ll make him a proponent for suffrage.”

With a groan, Nora sank into the settee and pulled a pillow over her face. “Aunt,” she said, her voice muffled by the velvet cushion, “I don’t want to change the world one man at a time. I only want to study insects.”

And, Nora realized with a sinking stomach, now she wouldn’t even be able to escape Lucius if she moved to Long Island.

Dear Miss Shipley,

I’m taking the liberty of contacting you to tell you what happened in India after you and Mr. Epps left. Frederic has given me permission and sends his (not quite warm) regards.

When you involved yourself in local affairs, I thought you stupid and enthusiastically waited for the consequences to fall. I will admit, I didn’t expect them to rain fire down on our camp.

You already know we lost none of our work, for which Frederic is grateful. I wouldn’t have minded spending another half year away from England, but he felt it was time to return home. The local people weren’t happy with our presence thanks to your interference.

So home I went. I was invited back into my house by my wife and nine daughters.

Yes, nine.

As they hugged me with enough exuberance to send me back across the Channel, I remembered your foolishness and admitted you might have also shown a measure of bravery I lack.

My daughters will never know anything but comfort and privilege. And, except for as many forays away from them as I can muster, I’ve never thought they deserved anything else. But I certainly wouldn’t have sacrificed my work and career to ensure someone else had those things.

So, Miss Shipley, your actions may have resulted in a burned camp, a shortened stay, and ejection from Kodaikanal and the surrounding areas, but you showed a strength of character I will never forget.

Don’t feel the need to respond to this letter.

Mr. Jeffrey Steed

When the moon dipped below the horizon, Nora climbed the stairs, clutching Mr. Steed’s letter, which she had read half a dozen times. She wished Lucius hadn’t gotten a hold of it, but she didn’t wish Mr. Steed had not written it. He’d meant well. And, coming from someone who hadn’t really liked her, his words offered more validation than from another, more pleasant person.

As Nora neared her mother’s open door, she paused. Lucius hadn’t had to tell her to keep their conversation from her mother. Over the last few years, they’d both conspired to keep Lydia from becoming aware of distasteful news. It was this environment of secrecy that had led Lucius to sell the journal without consulting Lydia first.

Nora understood his reasoning. That sort of news was likely to send her mother into a relapse and cause her already weak condition to deteriorate. But Nora thought maybe Martha’s behavior—her honesty and transparency—offered something better. A chance to share one another’s burdens. The exposure of poor choices. Nora was sure she’d heard a Bible verse relating to that very thing. Fools walked in darkness, and she’d been a fool, allowing Lucius to convince her that Mother needed to stay in darkness.

If Mother had been aware of her husband’s gambling, would she have allowed him to retain control of the journal?

Nora cleared her throat and knocked on the doorjamb. When she peeked into the room, her mother motioned for her to enter from her place on the bed. “Darling, I’m so glad you’re here. Will you read to me for a while?”

“Of course.” Nora settled into the chair beside the bed, lifting the book into her lap. A Little Tour in France. Nora rarely read anything but scientific texts and papers. Her mother, though, adored every new book that was released. She particularly loved books that took place in other countries, maybe because they took her far from the four walls of her house.

Nora flipped through the pages of Henry James’s newest. She’d like to publish a book one day.

She froze, startled by the thought. She’d spent so many years dreaming about running the journal, she’d never considered another route to publication. But, really, why not? If Frederic could find the backing to publish his field research, surely she could too.

Nora shook her head, clearing it of the farfetched fancy. Her mother watched her with guileless eyes. Which came first, her mother’s naiveté or Lucius’s desire to keep her in the dark?

“Mother, are you aware we need to move?” Nora asked.

Lydia’s smile tightened. “Read the book, darling. I’m curious to hear about his travels.”

“Lucius has lost our house. I will move in with Martha, if Lucius holds to our agreement, and you will have to leave Ithaca, as well.”

The blanket covering Lydia’s legs wrinkled beneath her grasping hands. She balled it into her fists. “Every other book on France centers on Paris. This one should prove entertaining and enlightening.”

Nora sighed. She flipped the book to the first page. Maybe her mother knew her own limitations. Knew she couldn’t cope with the truth. But how unfair that Nora alone was burdened with it. Lucius wasn’t her choice, after all. Her mother should bear some of the brunt of her own husband’s character flaws and failings.

“When did you plan on giving me Father’s publication?” she asked.

Lydia’s smile turned genuine. She released her hold on the blanket and smoothed her fingers over the puckered cotton. “I told Lucius before you returned from India that he should begin the process as soon as you got home. I thought it would give the two of you a chance to work together. Has he spoken to you about it?”

Nora tipped her head and tapped her fingers against the book. How could her mother be married to someone for five years and know so little about him? “He has. He sold it.”

Lydia’s expression fell, and she leaned against the bedframe, tugging the blanket up toward her chin. “I’m tired, darling. I don’t think I want to be read to after all.”

It’s not my place to tell her. It’s Lucius’s. But Lucius wouldn’t tell her, and Nora had grown tired of pretending all was well to save her mother from the distressing reality of the man she’d chosen to wed.

“Of course, but first you must know that Lucius has gambled away your money. All of it. He’s lost the house and journal. He’s been selling my jewels.”

Lydia’s pale lashes lay against her even paler cheeks. A shudder ran through her body, and then she grew still.

“Mother! Everything is gone.”

Nothing so much as fluttered in recognition of Nora’s exclamation. Her mother’s words were slow and thin. “I’m sure Lucius will take care of everything, darling. Don’t worry.”

By the time Nora had set the book aside and stood, Lydia’s chest rose and fell with the steady breaths of sleep.