Monday, December 3, 1888
When I returned to the flat later that afternoon, Everett was already back home, his eyes wide with worry and his jaw clenched in frustration.
“Where were you? You could have left a note!”
I smiled sweetly at him. “Hush now, my love.”
“Don’t mock me, woman. I was about to go out looking for you.” He shook his head. “I was scared someone had broken in and kidnapped you or—”
“You are right, I should have left a note. My most sincere apologies.” I calmly took off my coat and gloves.
As I put my things away, I noticed a bloody cloth in the waste bin. I looked back at Everett. He had a yellow bruise around his eye and a spot of dried blood around one nostril.
“My god, what happened?” I rushed up to him, placing a gentle hand on his chest.
“It’s nothing.”
“It is most certainly not nothing,” I snapped. “Tell me.”
“I was at Mr. Harris’s pub, seeing if they needed an extra hand or knew of any jobs, and one of your early customers recognized me.” He frowned. “It seems like there are a few folks who are still feeling a bit upset by our harmless little act.”
“They attacked you?”
“Really, I’m fine. A bobby happened by and hauled the bastard off.” His tight mouth curved into a small smile. “I’m just happy you’re safe.”
He wrapped his arms around me, kissed my forehead, and then rested his cheek against the same spot.
“I found your play about me,” I said.
His body immediately tensed against mine. He paused. “Oh?”
“Indeed.”
He swallowed audibly. “Are you angry with me?”
“I was,” I admitted, pulling away slightly so I could look up at him. “But then I read it.”
He winced. “What did you think of it?”
“I found it very witty and amusing,” I said plainly. “As did Mr. Lindsey.”
Everett’s arms dropped and he moved away from me slightly. “What?”
“He suggested a few tweaks here and there but they were quite minor, really—”
“You pitched my play to Tom Lindsey without speaking to me about it first?”
“You wrote about me without speaking to me about it first,” I snapped. “That play is as much mine as it is yours so I believe we are now even.”
He laughed sarcastically. “Oh, certainly. Exactly how many pages of it did you write?”
“The story is about me. The main character has my name—”
“Wait,” Everett said, his face relaxing. “Tweaks?”
I fetched my reticule and pulled out a folded contract, handing it to him. “Sign this and The Rise and Fall of Lady Selene will be produced in the spring.”
He stared at me, unblinking. “Are you serious?”
I nodded slowly. Everett snatched the contract from my hand, his eyes flying over the words.
“Mr. Lindsey even agreed to my … conditions,” I added.
He did not look up from the contract and I could tell he was barely listening. “Oh?”
I took a second paper from my reticule. “I have a contract as well.” I unfolded it and held it up for him to see, my signature already scrawled at the bottom next to Mr. Lindsey’s.
Reluctant to take his eyes off his own contract, he finally took a glance at mine. “What is this?”
“I will be playing the lead in the production.” I squared my shoulders and let my lips curl into a coy grin. “You always wanted to be a playwright and I have always wanted to be an actress and now—”
I squealed as Everett grabbed me about the waist and swung me around, sending both contracts fluttering to the floor. He kissed me so hard that my lips were actually a bit sore after. My heart began to race as he kissed my neck and nibbled at my earlobe, pulling me against him. I found myself pawing at the various fastenings of his clothes for the hundredth time. Only the most necessary of garments were removed, tossed aside in haste. The bed, apparently, seemed too far away for the passion rising up between us and suddenly my back was up against a nearby wall, my legs hooked around his waist.
After we collapsed onto the floor, my chest heaving against his, I nuzzled my nose into his neck, deeply inhaling the scent of him. I laid a gentle kiss on his cheek, letting my moist lips drag across the rough stubble on his jawline and back up to his ear.
Directly into his ear, I whispered, “Will you marry me?”
Dear Simon and Amelia,
Joseph and I are pleased to announce the birth of a healthy and happy baby boy. He will be christened Joseph Daniel Baxter (after Joseph and after my father) but called ‘Joe.’ He looks so much like his father but also reminded me of you too, Simon.
The christening is this Sunday. I hope both of you will be able to attend, although you are both welcome to come and meet him before then if you can.
Simon, I know your relationship with your father has always been complicated. It was not my intention to interfere but when he told me about the argument and the disinheritance, I knew I had to speak up. I told him of my uncle in Canada who is like you and lives a happy and quiet life and would not hurt a fly. I know you would not either. I may have become emotional because I just found it so unfair of him to treat you in such a way. Of course, I may have been angry with him previous to that argument because he almost missed the birth of our son.
The doctor had mentioned that I should avoid upsetting situations, but it was soon after that my labor pains began. Not to worry, everything is fine with Little Joe. Joseph was so relieved that the baby was a healthy boy that he has reversed his decision about disinheriting you. You may also still remain in your house and keep your household as is.
Amelia, I believe Joseph is going to speak with your father about the divorce matter. I reminded him that a divorce would cause any existing gossip concerning Simon to get worse, not better, so he might want to encourage his friend to reverse his decision. Hopefully this will resolve matters.
I just want us to be a happy family, especially since Joseph must away back to Canada soon after the christening. The two of you mean so much to me. It would break my heart if anything happened to you.
Take care and I hope to see you both very soon.
Beth