The trembling abated, for this did not make sense.
“What in the world can you mean, Mama? You must have loved Nathaniel once, I quite see that.”
Mrs Peverill looked full in her face, a note of finality in her voice. “You are wrong, Verena. I never loved Nathaniel.”
“What?”
“I never loved him,” she repeated. “Which is the reason he used me so shockingly. He knew from the beginning, for I never pretended. I tried to love him, God knows. Perhaps if he had not taken to abusing me, I might have succeeded. When that began, I tried even harder. But it is difficult to love someone who mistreats one so badly.”
Impossible, Verena would have said, could she have said anything at all. She was astounded. Could it be true? It did not make sense.
“Why did you not leave him years ago?” she asked, finding her tongue in a rush. “How could you stay, allow him to use you thus, if you did not love him? And how can you speak of having loved, Mama — and try to tell me that I should love?”
At that, Mrs Peverill’s features softened into a smile of such tenderness that Verena was startled.
“I do not mean Nathaniel when I speak of having loved, dearest. I am talking of your father.” Her eyes glowed. “Lambert and I were so much in love that we neither of us cared for the consequences.”
Verena was feeling more and more bewildered. “But Grandpapa Whicham told me that the Chaceleys treated you shockingly, refusing to assist you when you were widowed. You have yourself told me that Nathaniel rescued you from an unenviable situation.”
“He offered me the chance of respectability, of security,” corrected Mrs Peverill. “Come, Verena, you know very well thatmy station in life was not what I am raised to now. Papa was a lawyer.”
“I know, and therefore the Chaceleys cast you off.”
“Not me, Verena. They cast off poor Lambert for making a misalliance. At least his father did.”
Verena knew the story. Mama had been sent to the seaside under the care of a cousin to convalesce after a bout of fever. There she had met with Lieutenant Lambert Chaceley, on his way to re-join his vessel at Chichester. After they were married, Lambert had returned to sea, and was drowned in a skirmish in which his ship had been engaged.
Verena had been born fatherless. It was Nathaniel whom she had known in that capacity from her earliest years, but him she had repudiated once she knew what he was doing to her mother. She had never again called him “Papa” from the day she found out, preferring to be fatherless once more, and forever. This possible aspect of Mama’s feelings for her real father had never entered Verena’s head.
“But if you loved my father —” she began.
“We fell in love at first sight,” recounted Mrs Peverill, a long-forgotten dream in her countenance. “It was on the beach at Little Hampton.”
“Little Hampton?” echoed Verena. Then that was why her stepfather had chosen to search in that place. But Mrs Peverill was still lost in memories.
“Nothing would do for him but my promise to marry him on his very next leave. We would not have waited as long, but that there was no time to arrange a marriage and I was under age. His papa refused his consent, but we were married in spite of it, and my own papa swore he should house us both.” She sighed. “I do not know how it would have gone had Lambert lived. Perhaps his father might have relented in time.” She looked at Verena again. “But this I do know. Our love was strong enough to havewithstood any amount of trouble, and Lambert would have died before he raised a hand to me.”
“How can you be sure?” Verena uttered, out of those deep-seated fears that would not allow her to feel — what she knew shecouldfeel. “How can you possibly know?”
“I know, Verena, because Lambert had my heart. You see, my dearest, Nathaniel knew me before my marriage to Lambert. He had always an eye to me. Papa persuaded me to accept his proposals in the end, for I had you to think of, and Papa was ill, and he feared for my future if I was left alone with a young child to bring up, and already you were two years old. So I married Nathaniel.”
“To your cost,” Verena said.
“And his, Verena,” said Mrs Peverill. “I married him without love, for advantage only. He was jealous, you see, dearest. Hedidlove me, and he never could forgive me for loving Lambert instead of him.” She gave a rather wan smile. “Sometimes I think it was a judgement on me for marrying above my station.”
“Oh, Mama,” Verena protested. “God is not so cruel.”
“No, no, dearest. The judgement was that I should have lost Lambert, not that I should have been punished by Nathaniel.” She sat forward again and leaned across to take one of Verena’s hands. “I am telling you this, my dearest, to show you that love can be a very different thing from my experience with Nathaniel. So, if you do care for this young man —”
“That will do, Mama,” said Verena, rising to her feet. “There is no question of that. I know what you are thinking. That you must make it possible for me to be free to marry. Well, I tell you now, I will not hear of such a thing. You must not think of it. Where is Nathaniel now?”
“He has gone back to the New Inn with Adam,” her mother told her, getting up. “He is waiting for my decision.”
Verena turned a face of horror upon her. “You mean you have allowed him to hope? No, no, Mama. You should have sent him packing. Lord in heaven, he will come back and coerce you, I know he will!”
Mrs Peverill came to her and patted her arm. “Verena, don’t fret yourself to flinders. He has promised he will not create any scenes, but will wait for my decision, and respect it.”
“And you believed him? Heavens, Mama, what does it take to convince you? He has broken so many promises. I have lost count of the times he promised never to hurt you again, yet he did so — I know not how often.”
