Beth’s heart clenches in her chest. “Mother,” she calls.
But Mother doesn’t respond. Beth stands in the completely empty foyer, her voice echoing through the house, all the hurt drifting through the air around her.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Gwen
“Good, you’re here,” Meredith says, pulling Gwen through the door before she even knocks.
“What’s going on?” Gwen asks, taking in her tight face and plain dress.
Meredith’s not outfitted for anything public facing, much less hosting a surprise early breakfast for mothers and daughters. She looks like she just woke up.
That knot of worry at the top of Gwen’s stomach twists even tighter. If Meredith isn’t actually hosting tea this morning, then Gwen’s not going to see Beth today. It’s been days since they’ve had a moment together, longer still since they’ve managed to have their parents at the same event. The wedding is almost here, and now she won’t even get to strategize with Beth. It’s time for a last-ditch, desperate effort. But she can’t plan that all by herself. They’re far beyond her slapdash plans now.
“Come on,” Meredith says, steering Gwen down the servant’s hallway and through the kitchen.
“Have you heard anything from Beth? Mrs. Stelm said she gave Miss Wilson my last letter, but Beth hasn’t replied yet,” Gwen says, trying to talk and simultaneously navigate her hoop through the narrow halls.
The servants pay them no mind as they pass, like Meredith must do this every day. But the silence is grating on Gwen. She’s anxious enough without Meredith making a mystery of things.
“Meredith, would you please just—”
“Here. You have twenty minutes,” Meredith says cryptically, yanking Gwen to a halt.
She opens a narrow door and shoves Gwen inside before she can so much as speak. Gwen turns, mouth open, but Meredith shuts the door on her. Gwen sighs and revolves, taking in the small single bedroom with one high window at street level. It’s dim, and cramped, and there in the middle stands Beth in her house frock, hair still braided from sleep.
Gwen’s chest clenches as Beth comes for her, shoving her skirt to the side so she can arch up and wrap her arms around Gwen. She presses into her, face tucked into her neck.
“I just wanted to see you one more time,” Beth whispers, pulling back only to rise into a kiss that makes Gwen stumble back into the door, hands gripping at Beth’s waist to steady them both.
“This was the only time I’m not scheduled to be at the Ashmonds’,” Beth says when they break apart minutes later, lips swollen, hair mussed, and cheeks pink. Her hands cradle Gwen’s jaw as they lean back against the door. “Mother’s still sleeping. She won’t talk to me anymore. I can’t convince her, I can’t make her understand, and I don’t think—” She pauses, surging forward into another kiss.
And Gwen lets her, sliding her hands back to splay over Beth’s narrow shoulders, clutching her close. This is it then. Lady Demeroven’s made her choice. The wedding is in threedays. Their second attempt has failed, thwarted by politics and greed and fear. She has to surrender Beth to her unhappy marriage so she and her mother have somewhere to live, money to provide for them, security.
She loses herself in Beth’s kiss, clutching at her back. Gwen has a lifetime to grieve. But right now, they have only these twenty minutes in this little room. Their last twenty minutes. She won’t waste a moment of it.
“Here,” she whispers as Beth breaks away to press kisses down her neck. She gently steps forward, pushing Beth into the middle of the room until she can spin around. “Get me out of this thing.”
Beth hums and together they make the quickest work they can of pulling off her bodice and skirt, throwing off her petticoat and hoop. Then she can turn and tackle Beth onto the little bed. Then they can slide hands up underskirts and down corsets, unlacing until they’re a mess of half-worn clothes and skin and kisses, gasping against each other for what feels like a small eternity.
This is how she’ll remember Beth, bright cheeked and panting beneath her on a small, narrow bed—hair frayed, skirt about her waist, smiling as she comes down from her peak. She’ll secret this picture away into her mind. She’ll wait eagerly for the brief moments they can have going forward, stolen like this whenever they visit Meredith. Condemned to a quarter life of happiness, but they’ll wring every bit they can from it. They’ll savor every moment.
“I love you,” Beth whispers, stroking at her cheek. Gwen rests her forehead against Beth’s, heaving in air as she comes down.
“I love you too,” Gwen murmurs, angling her head to sip a kiss from her lips.
But as her sweat cools and her heartbeat calms, Gwen feels the moment breaking around them. The gravity of what’s to come presses down on her and she goes to pull back, to offer platitudes or excuses or—something—something to make it better.
Beth surges up, unwilling to separate, kissing her with a ferocity that steals Gwen’s breath away and pounds against her heart. Like if Beth tries hard enough, their kiss could forestall the future. As if it can keep them here, in this little secret, away from the world, and reality and—
There’s a sharp rap on the door.
“Beth, your carriage is here.”
Beth stills, held against her, eyes squeezed shut. She doesn’t move, holding to their love, and Gwen steels everything she has to pull away. To let Beth fall gently back on the pillows. To sit up and look down at her lover for as long as she dares.
Meredith knocks again and Beth shakes her head. Gwen stands and tugs on Beth’s hands. Beth hesitates and then her eyes pop open, hard and empty. She lets Gwen help her from the bed, watches as she straightens her bodice.
