He relieved her of the maltreated handkerchief and took her other hand, holding both together in a strong clasp between his own.
“Verena, this is not love as most men know it, my poor girl. Only look at Unice and Osmond. You cannot imagine that anything of the kind might occur between them. They are the fondest couple I know.”
Verena made no attempt to remove her hands, but they lay limply in his grasp, and her voice was bleak.
“Those that saw Nathaniel and Mama together would never have imagined it of them either. They hid it well between them. Even I did not know until I was eight. Mama was thought to be sickly, that is all, for she was indisposed for days at a time. That is why I chose Tunbridge Wells, so that it might be given out, when it became known that we had gone, that Mama was here for her health.”
“Verena, you delude yourself. One does not live on an island. Such things as you have spoken of are the stuff of servants’ gossip. Can you truly believe that the matter was unknown in your circles? I frankly doubt it.”
She nodded. “Yes, so do I. But that does not mean that people were able to observe it in their public conduct.” A tiny smile came and went. “Only look at me. I am a past master at my company mask, as you call it. Mama was almost as good. It is only since she has been here she has given way to her misery.”
There was silence for a while. Denzell would have given anything to show her how mistaken were her views, how narrow. How, he knew not. But this was not the time. She was calmer now, and he must keep her so, not risk distressing her anew.
“How was it you were able to come here at all?” he asked, for he had long pondered the question of how mother and daughter could be supporting themselves.
“Grandpapa Whicham — my mother’s father — left me money in trust,” she answered. “I had only to wait for my majority, by which time I had resolved how I would use it.”
The answer threw the whole matter of the Chaceleys back into his mind. Tentatively, in a casual tone, he tried a subtle probe. “What of your father’s family?”
A shadow flitted across her face, and a slight reserve entered her voice. “I know nothing of them. Mama married above her station, and they did not wish to recognise her.”
Deuce take it, this was too painful. Poor princess. Abandoned by one family, only to be crushed by another. But life had not always to be so. Love had not always to be so. How could he show her that? Unless she could be brought to see for herself — by his own conduct towards her. Or did she already know it? He eyed her.
“Why have you allowed me under your shield, Verena? Why, if not that you trust me?”
His grasp had slackened a little, and Verena removed her hands from his, looking away. “I trust you as a friend.” A smile flickered again. “Besides, I was overwrought, and you were by.”
“Is that all?” he uttered, and knew the disappointment sounded in his voice.
Her pulse quickened, but she turned and met his eyes. “Denzell, can’t you see? Have you heard me say all this, and not recognised the impossibility of what you seek of me?”
She saw in his face that he had, and her chest tightened. But he reached out again, and took her hand, drawing it into his lap.
“I recognise your fear, Verena, and I see upon what premise it is based. But it is a false premise. Your experience is one in a million. I could cite you story after story to refute your fears.” He smiled. “But I will not waste my time. You cannot know it, Verena, but there exists a purer love than this — a love that has nothing to do with pain and brutality.”
Verena’s fingers shifted within his grasp. “If I could only believe that!”
His hand tightened. “If I could only convince you!”
CHAPTER TEN
Verena’s pulse quickened. Oh, but this was too dangerous. She snatched her hand away, and got up. He rose too, and she faced him, her barriers up, although she felt as if her mask could not anywhere be found. Not in this man’s presence. Not any more.
“The risk is too great, Denzell,” she uttered roughly. “Besides, even were it possible, were you to find some way to change me, I could not leave Mama. She needs me.”
“That I appreciate,” he conceded.
“Then don’t speak of this again,” she pleaded. “I must go back now.” She hesitated, and managed a. slight smile. “I do thank you.”
Denzell shook his head. “Don’t. And you are premature. I will escort you home.”
From this determination he would not be moved, and Verena accepted his arm with gratitude. The remembrance that she could not leave Mama had brought back the present problem to her mind. Yet she was eased in having told her tale, and found herself much less agitated, although still nervous of the outcome of the enforced private conference.
Denzell left her at the front door, and she knocked in some trepidation. It was opened almost immediately by Mrs Quirk, the landlady. The woman was looking quite agog, Verena noted, but she refrained from asking any questions. The reason for this was not far to seek, for as Verena started up the stairs she discovered Betsey waiting for her above, in full sight of Mrs Quirk.
“A rare day’s entertainment for her,” whispered Betsey, seizing her young mistress’s arm.
“Betsey, what has happened?” Verena asked.
