Against everything he’d experienced in his life, a little voice whispered in the back of his mind.Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe she hadn’t reacted the way she had because of him at all.
Swallowing hard, he asked the question he should have been asking for months now. “What’s wrong?”
Eleanor pressed her lips together as a fresh set of tears rolled down her cheeks. “I . . . I don’t know. I should be happy.” She closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them again.“I pictured David. I don’t know why—it seemed to come from nowhere. But it makes me feel like I’m on the edge of something horrible and deep, like a dark hole in the ground, and if I move the wrong way, I’m going to fall in.” She pinched her lips together and shook her head. “I must sound utterly mad.”
Merrick shook his head as he moved his hand to cover hers. She wound her fingers gratefully through his, and pieces of things he’d heard over the past few months seemed to come together in his mind.
People grieve in different ways, Carlisle had said. And then Inman had spoken of the sadness his wife carried inside her. From the way he’d described it, it sounded as if Mrs. Inman’s was evident at times—but maybe Eleanor’s wasn’t.
Maybe she didn’t even know.
As bizarre as it sounded, it began to make sense as Merrick counted backward to when he’d placed his advertisement and all the events that had happened afterward.
“You’re not mad,” he said as he led her to the table. She sank gratefully into a chair, not letting go of his hand as he sat too.
“I think . . .” He paused, trying to figure out what to say. “I placed that advertisement last summer, and I received your letter in September.”
“Yes.” Eleanor’s eyes still glistened, but she wrinkled her forehead, clearly confused about why he was talking about their correspondence.
“I wrote back to you immediately and enclosed fare for your journey. And then you arrived here in November.” He paused, and then delicately asked, “When was it that you lost David?”
She drew in a shaky breath. “August. The twenty-first.”
It was starting to make sense now. “And when did you find my advertisement?”
“About two weeks after . . .” She swallowed again and ran the back of her free hand over her eyes.
“And during that time, what did you do?”
Eleanor tilted her head. “What do you mean? I kept house as best I could, but mostly I stayed with Rebecca. She was devastated. I helped her with the children and cooked and tried to keep her house in order. At least until we were made to leave our homes, so I arranged for us to stay with a friend.”
He closed his eyes briefly, his heart breaking for her. She’d done so much for her sister, for her nieces and nephews. And there had been no one to take care of her.
“Didn’t you say you were married to David for two years?” he asked.
She bit her lip and nodded.
“Did you love him?” His question hung in the air between them. He’d asked it as kindly as possible, with no judgment attached.
“I did,” she said softly after a few seconds had passed. Another tear snuck its way down one of her cheeks.
He squeezed her hand so she would know it didn’t bother him. How could he feel jealous of a dead man?
It all made so much sense now. And none of it had a thing to do with him. She didn’t pull back because she’d realized she had made a grave mistake or because he repulsed her.
It was because she’d never had a moment to feel sad about what she’d lost.
“Eleanor, I think you miss him. David.” She looked at him curiously, and he tried to figure out how to explain what he thought might be going on. “You lost someone you loved, and instead of taking time to mourn that loss, you ran yourself ragged. You took care of everyone else, you arranged living accommodations, you found a solution to the dire situation that both you and your sister found yourselves in. And then you immediately traveled here and married me—all while discovering you were expecting a baby.”
Her mouth fell open. She pressed a hand against it as if she were holding back a wave of emotion. “He wanted children so badly.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “And now . . .”
David wasn’t here to see the baby he’d longed for. Carlisle had been right about that, when he’d mentioned it to Merrick that day behind the livery. Eleanor hadn’t understood it, and Merrick had brushed it off, assuming she’d handled her grief and moved on.
But she hadn’t. She’d never had the chance. Of course she couldn’t give her heart to him when, buried deep in her mind, it wasn’t free to give. Not yet.
He pulled gently on her hand, and she leaned her cheek against his chest. He wrapped his other arm around her shoulders. Her body shook, and her tears dampened his shirt. He said nothing at all. He just held her while she cried and felt grateful that she trusted him to hold her.
