Wilhelmina shook her head. “He loves his work. I’d never forgive myself if he had to sacrifice that for me.”
“I thought we already established that he must be given the choice,” Mr. Dale said. “Having you or anyone else determine what’s best for him would be wrong.”
“True,” Wilhelmina agreed. And wasn’t that why she’d come here in the first place? Besides thanking James for his generous gift in person, she’d hoped for a chance to dispel this idea of her being in love with George. A point which only mattered because she was in love with James and couldn’t stand having him think she was lost to him. Because she wanted more – hoped for more – even though she knew obtaining it would be hard.
But so what?
She’d fought to save her reputation, fought to save her daughter’s, and fought to ensure George’s happiness. Should she not then fight for the man she loved instead of just giving up?
“I can’t go to London right now. The chance of ruining Cynthia’s prospects is too great. I shan’t risk it. But once the Season is over in a month or so, I’ll make the journey.” Hopefully by then she’d also have gotten her business started. As long as Betsy and the Wilkinses pitched in, she ought to be able to manage a few days’ absence.
“At least write to him then,” Mrs. Dale urged.
Wilhelmina nodded. “I will.”
She thanked the couple for their hospitality and started her homeward journey. They’d offered her the use of their carriage but Wilhelmina preferred to walk. Being out in the open provided her thoughts with the extra room they required, and by the time she returned home, she’d figured out what she would say in her letter.
For now, she would thank Mr. Dale for the loom, tell him she missed seeing him at Clarington House when she stopped by for a visit, and convey her hope of meeting him soon. As for the rest, she’d rather say it in person.
Satisfied, she penned the letter and dispatched it the following morning. While in town, she purchased all the ingredients she would need to start baking and even took out an advert in the local paper so Renwick’s inhabitants would know where to get milk, fresh eggs, and bread for less than what the local shops offered.
“I’m thinking I’ll make five plain loaves for tomorrow,” Wilhelmina told Betsy when she returned, “some buns and biscuits, along with a couple of cakes. We’ll have to adjust once we know how well it sells.”
“It might be a bit of a struggle the first few days,” Betsy said, “but once a couple of people try your goods and they tell their friends how fantastic they are, I wager you’ll have customers banging down the door.”
As it turned out, seven people showed up the next day. One only wanted eggs and milk, but Wilhelmina still sold all her bread along with every biscuit and cake she’d made. So she baked twice as much for the day after that and was pleased when even more people stopped by.
A busy week followed, during which Wilhelmina barely slept one wink, and then the response from James arrived.
Dear Mrs. Lawson,
Not Wilhelmina or Mina, Wilhelmina noted.
It pleases me to know you are well and that the loom will be useful to you.
I hope you can forgive me for not saying goodbye. To be honest, it was easier not to.
With respect,
Mr. James Dale
Wilhelmina reread the note a dozen times, searching for a hidden endearment that didn’t exist. Although he had acknowledged finding it hard to part ways. If his parents were correct in their assumptions, this was due to his feelings for her. Feelings he did not believe she reciprocated.
Nothing could be further from the truth, but telling him that would have to wait a while yet. Folding the letter, she placed it in her apron pocket and went to start on a fresh batch of biscuits. As pleased as she was by her success, there was a definite snag to it, for she’d no idea now when she’d manage to go to London and speak with James. First, she needed to find a routine that worked – one which Betsy would be able to follow during her absence.
As of right now, Wilhelmina still struggled with figuring out how many items to make and when to start making them. She’d quickly discovered that there was a difference between baking one or two loaves of bread and baking twenty. Each dough had to rise but she could only fit four in the oven at the same time. Scheduling became imperative, especially since she was starting to feel like she worked every minute of every day without pause. Plus, she had to teach Betsy how to make everything exactly the same way she did, which meant she had to allow for time to let the maid practice.
The process demanded dedication, and Wilhelmina still didn’t feel she was ready to hand over all responsibility for her new business to Betsy and the Wilkinses by the time the next letter arrived two weeks later. But when she opened it and learned what had happened, she knew she’d have no choice.
She sucked in a breath. It felt like a prickly rash was spreading across her skin as she read Cynthia’s words. Her heart tumbled over as sickening disquiet swirled in her stomach.
Cloverfield was back in London, and he was not only telling the world that Wilhelmina was Mr. Dale’s whore, but that Mr. Dale was the man behind Wilhelmina’s divorce and that all her other lovers had simply been used to conceal his involvement.
It was beyond the pale. Lies perpetuated by a high ranking peer – a man who deserved to be scorned for his lack of honor. Wilhelmina knew she ought not be surprised for his father had been no better, but she had hoped it would not come to this and that James would not be made to suffer on her account.
Wilhelmina swallowed and set the letter aside with trembling hands. There wasn’t a choice any longer. She absolutely could not allow James to face this alone. All she could do was hope her going to London would not have an adverse effect on Cynthia, and that Betsy would somehow manage to keep things afloat in Renwick during her absence.
19
