“He’s gone,” reassured the maid. “And Mr Adam with him.”
Verena fixed eyes of painful enquiry upon Betsey’s face. “Mama?”
“In the parlour, waiting for you.”
“Oh, thank heaven!”
She hurried along the passage and threw open the door. Mrs Peverill, who was seated in the armchair that half faced the door, looked up at her entrance. She smiled, and stretched out a hand.
“My dearest girl!”
Verena ran to her, dropping to her knees beside the armchair, and seizing her hand. “Dear heaven, Mama, I was so afraid you might have gone.”
Mrs Peverill stroked her face. “As if I would have done so without your knowing.” She smiled again, with an effort, Verena thought, and gestured to the other chair. “Sit down, dearest. I want to talk to you.”
Rising from her knees, Verena was conscious of an instant drop in her chest. This boded ill. What did Mama wish to talk about? She was not distressed, but she seemed subdued, and thoughtful. On what had she determined?
“What had he to say for himself?” she asked, seating herself in the other chair.
Mrs Peverill gave a tiny sigh. “He assures me he has changed.”
“I thought he would say so.”
Her mother shook her head. “Do not speak so harshly, Verena. I believe he was speaking the truth. There can be no doubt that he is — different. He does realise his wrongs to me, and he has had a lesson, which he will not forget.”
“Until the next time,” cut in Verena on a bitter note.
“No,” said Mrs Peverill. “He is truly repentant.”
“I cannot imagine why you should think so. He always claimed to be repentant, and yet he always did it again.” A note of desperation entered Verena’s voice, for she was beginning tofear the worst. “Why should you think him changed? Why should you suppose it will be any different?”
“Because it is as I said,” stated Mrs Peverill. “Heis different. He knows that he may lose me entirely, and that is new for him.”
Verena looked at her, acute suspicion writ large across her countenance. “Mama, do you tell me you are contemplating a return? In your sane mind, can you even think of it?”
Her mother chose not to answer this directly. She met her daughter’s eyes. “What of your future, Verena?”
“We have been through all that,” she returned with impatience, brushing it aside.
“But it is another case now, is it not?” insisted Mrs Peverill. She smiled. “I am not blind, Verena. And I could not mistake Betsey’s veiled hints.”
A trembling began inside Verena. This was what she had feared all along. Now what was she to do? Before she could think what to say to dismiss this wholly unwanted subject, her mother threw her into even more confusion.
“Does he love you, Verena?”
It was out before she could stop it. “He says so.”
“And do you love him?”
“No!” She knew her hands were shaking; and she bunched them into her lap. “No, Mama. I don’t … I can’t. There is no possibility of — I told him so. I cannot love anyone. Heavens above, Mama, you must know how it is with me!”
Mrs Peverill sat up, and leaning across to the other chair, reached her fingers out to close over those unquiet hands.
“Because you have set your face against it, that does not mean it cannot happen, my dearest.”
“Mama, don’t speak of it, pray,” begged Verena shakily. “Youloved, and look how little good it has done you.”
Mrs Peverill nodded and sat back again. “That is true, but only because there was so little time.”
