The Matchmaker Page 11

  “Is that a polite way of telling me it’s none of my business?” Lissa’s voice was very quiet.

  “I suppose.” Julia managed a smile.

  Her sister didn’t return it. “I can’t help being worried, Julia. I’ve noticed things lately. Since I’ve been home this summer.”

  Julia didn’t want to encourage her sister to continue, but she couldn’t help but wonder if Lissa’s growing feelings for Mark had made her more aware of other people’s relationships. Or was it that Adrian was slipping, showing more of his private nature outside the bedroom?

  Lissa went on without being asked or urged. “He doesn’t seem to notice how you feel at all, or care if you’re tired or drained by the heat. You’re so…so careful around him, as if you have to weigh every word. And even though he’s very attentive in public, here in the house he never touches you—I mean, when you’re around the servants or me.”

  “The realities of marriage,” Julia said lightly.

  “Mark’s parents don’t act like that, and they’ve been married for twenty-five years. He teases her in the sweetest way, and sometimes when you go into a room where they’ve been alone, she’s blushing and he has a little smile on his face—and you know they’ve been kissing and cuddling.”

  Julia felt a pang and hoped she didn’t look as wistful as she felt. “Every couple is different, Lissa,” she murmured, wondering if it was true.

  “Susie’s parents hold hands when they walk, even if it’s just through the house. Monica’s sister and her husband smile when they catch each other’s eye. Elizabeth and Parker laugh together all the time, and when she was carrying the baby, he did everything he could to make it easier for her. She told me. How he’d rub her back, and help her get around when the baby got so big. How he worried that something would go wrong, and he’d lose her. Now that the baby’s here, they’re like newlyweds again. He’s so gentle and loving.”

  Lissa’s green eyes were steady as they held Julia’s. “I always thought Adrian was wonderful, but, Julia…you’re so still when he’s around, like you’re shut inside yourself. Your voice is—is so calm, it’s as if all the feeling has been squeezed out of it. I haven’t heard you laugh in two years. You never even smile as if you mean it. I guess I always saw those things, but I didn’t really think about them until recently. You don’t love him. He doesn’t love you. And I don’t think—I don’t think he’s kind to you.”

  Julia looked away, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. “He’s my husband, Lissa.”

  “Maybe he shouldn’t be,” Lissa said very softly.

  Conscious of shock, Julia stared down at her sewing with blind eyes. “Do you realize what you’re saying?”

  “Oh, I know it’s supposed to be wrong. Till death do us part, no matter what. It isn’t easy for a woman to get a divorce, and when she does, people say she’s fast. But you can’t spend the rest of your life with a man who makes you unhappy, no matter what people say. If you made a mistake, you shouldn’t have to go on paying for it.”

  “Lissa—”

  “Why should you have to? Being in love is such a wonderful feeling. And to see love in a man’s eyes makes anything seem possible. Every woman should know what love is like. You should. You deserve to be married to a man who loves you. Don’t trap yourself in a bad marriage. Julia, if you stay with Adrian, and children come—it’ll be too late. He’d never let you go then.”

  “He wouldn’t let me go now,” Julia heard herself say, and though she was appalled she’d said it, there was a certain relief in voicing that certainty aloud.

  “Maybe if I talked to him—”

  “No!” Julia felt cold with fear as she stared at her sister. It was too late now to pretend; all she could do was try to convince Lissa to remain silent. “If you say one word about any of this to Adrian, I’ll never forgive you.”

  “Julia—”

  “I mean it, Lissa. You don’t know him. I do. He wouldn’t give me a divorce no matter what anyone said to him, and bringing up the possibility would only make the situation worse for me. Promise me you’ll say nothing to him.”

  Lissa stared at her for a long moment, a little pale and very troubled, then nodded slowly. “All right. I promise.”

  Julia forced a smile, and knew it looked as strained as it felt. “I’ll be fine, really.”

  “Will you? I have a feeling it’s a lot worse than I thought. He hurts you, doesn’t he? At least twice since I’ve been home this summer, you stayed in bed more than a day, and you were so white when I saw you.”

  “Lissa, please.”

  “I won’t say anything to Adrian, but I can’t help worrying. If he’s hurting you, you have to get away from him. Even if he won’t give you a divorce, can’t you just leave him? He’d look awfully silly staying married to you when you didn’t live with him.”

  This time Julia’s smile held a touch of genuine amusement. To the young, most things were simple; Lissa was still very young even if she was maturing rapidly, and her uncomplicated solution seemed a reasonable enough one to her. “Honey, Adrian has a political career to think of, and scandals mean ruin. He wouldn’t allow me to leave him.”

  “You could just—just leave. While he was gone during the day. He couldn’t stop you.”

  “And go where?” Julia shook her head slightly. “I have no money of my own, and I couldn’t ask any of our acquaintances for help, even if they were willing. Which they wouldn’t be. Lissa, both society and the law consider a wife the property of her husband. How he chooses to treat her is his business, and no one has the right to interfere. There have even been cases where a man killed his wife, admitted it, and was found innocent of any crime because the jury believed he had just cause.”

  Lissa was clearly appalled. “You aren’t serious?”

  “Entirely.” Julia had read of more than one such case in newspapers, and in a law book in Adrian’s study—where she had gone to find out what her realistic chances for a divorce might be. What she had found had given her no hope at all.

  “What did the jury consider just cause?” Lissa wanted to know.

  “In the cases I read about, infidelity.”

  “Men have mistresses, and wives are expected to accept it. What’s the difference?”

  Julia had thought about it, and her reply was dry. “Men make the laws.”

  “Something should be done about that,” Lissa exclaimed, outraged.

  “A number of women are trying. A constitutional amendment granting the vote to women has been put before Congress during every session since 1878. Unless and until it passes into law, women have no voice in determining other laws.”

  “I should have paid more attention in school,” Lissa said, then ruthlessly got the subject back on track. “But Julia, do you mean to say that if a woman was being hurt by her husband, neither the police nor any of her friends could help her?”

  “Legally, they haven’t the right. And there are social beliefs, first, that what goes on between husband and wife is a private matter and, second, that the woman is to blame.”

  “To blame? For being hurt?”

  “For angering her husband.” Julia shrugged a little tiredly. “Never mind that it isn’t rational. Some realities of life aren’t; you’d better accept it. The point is no one would dare to interfere.”

  “I know someone who would. Someone who doesn’t give a fig about the law or society. Someone you could go to for help.” Lissa looked a bit startled and puzzled. “How strange I feel so sure of what I’m saying—but I do.”

  “Lissa—”

  “Cyrus Fortune, Julia. He could—” She broke off abruptly, staring at her sister.

  Julia knew she had reacted visibly to the name, and though she struggled desperately for control, she could feel her face burning. Between the past interludes with Cyrus, his insistence that she leave Adrian, and her own shameless thoughts and feelings of late, she was unable to hide the response. It was so ironic. Lissa had named the one man she b
elieved could be trusted—and he was the very man who had tried every form of persuasion short of blackmail or physical force to induce Julia to have an affair with him.

  “Julia…”

  A bit disjointedly, Julia said, “You must have taken leave of your senses, Lissa. Mr. Fortune has the worst reputation with married women of any man in Richmond. And he has no use for runaway wives; he certainly wouldn’t be pleased to find one on his hands. A man like him wouldn’t want to be bothered with messy problems—”

  “Julia, are you in love with him?”

  A shaky laugh escaped Julia, and she thought with utter detachment that it had finally happened. She’d finally crossed the line into madness. Nothing else could feel this way. The unexpected conversation with Lissa had added to the tension inside her, until she wanted to cry out, or burst into tears or hysterical laughter—anything to relieve the awful pressure. She was out of control, dreadfully rudderless like the boat that had taken her parents’ lives, and the sensation was terrifying. She didn’t know how much more she could bear.

  “Love?” She was unaware of the bitter cynicism in her voice. “No, I’m not in love with him. That wonderful feeling you’ve described is something I don’t believe in. Not for me, not anymore.” Trying to stop her naked flood of words, she clamped her teeth together so hard her jaw ached.

  “I—I’m sorry, I just thought the way you looked for a moment…” Lissa didn’t know what to say, and she was frightened. She had never seen her sister anything but calm. Now Julia’s face was paper-white and there was a wild look of despair in her glittering green eyes that made Lissa want to cry. “We’ll find a way for you to be free, Julia. There has to be a way.”

  After a long, still moment, Julia put her sewing aside and rose to her feet. In a flat voice, as if nothing unusual had been discussed between them, she said, “I don’t feel like having lunch today. I think I’ll take the buggy out and deliver the things for Mrs. King’s thrift sale.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “No. I need to be alone for a while.” Julia walked out of the room. She put on her hat automatically and ordered a horse hitched to her buggy, the box of secondhand goods for the thrift sale loaded. She drove her buggy through the streets a few minutes later in the same numb state. No one seemed to notice anything peculiar about her, and her errand was completed within a half hour.

  But Julia didn’t return to the house. Instead, she drove out of the city. She wasn’t aware of choosing a particular direction and paid no attention to her surroundings.

  Ever since the conversation with Lissa had begun, she had known time was running out. Lissa was an honest girl not accustomed to hiding what she felt; with the best intentions to keep her promise, she still would be unable to hide her changed attitude from Adrian. He might not notice immediately since he was so preoccupied these days, but he would eventually.

  Being Adrian, he would believe two things. He would believe Julia had confided in her sister about his treatment of her, and he would believe Lissa wouldn’t remain quiet about it.

  Julia didn’t know what to do. Adrian had always held the threat of hurting Lissa over her head, and he was entirely capable of carrying out the threat. If he became enraged enough—and fearing his public mask had been destroyed or damaged beyond repair would certainly enrage him—then he’d stop at nothing.

  She drove on through the early afternoon, barely aware of the scorching heat and blind to the dark gray clouds rolling heavily toward her.

  —

  It was after two when Lissa stood at the end of the walkway and looked anxiously up and down the street. The sun still beat mercilessly down on the pavement, but thunder rumbled in the grim storm clouds that were approaching steadily, and the few people on the streets were hurrying to reach their destinations. Lissa was worried about Julia; she should have been home long ago, and with the storm coming…

  When she saw Cyrus coming toward her, the relief she felt was almost staggering. She had trusted him from the first moment she had looked into his strange black eyes, and no matter what Julia said, Lissa knew instinctively that he could—he would—help her sister.

  “Lissa? What’s wrong? Where’s Julia?”

  Lissa found neither the familiarity nor the abrupt questions surprising, and it never occurred to her not to tell him. As soon as he was close enough, she reached out to him, catching his sleeve with unsteady fingers, and felt immediately reassured when his big hand covered them gently.

  “Julia went out in the buggy; she should have been home ages ago. With the storm coming—and since Helen disappeared the way she did—I’m worried. Even if nothing has happened to her, Julia was so upset…”

  “Why was she upset?” Cyrus asked quietly, his gaze intent on her upturned face.

  “It was my fault. I was asking her about Adrian and their marriage. She didn’t want to talk about it, but I kept pushing.”

  Cyrus’s long fingers tightened over hers, and something as dangerous as a naked blade flashed in the dark sheen of his eyes. “Has he been hurting her again?”

  Lissa blinked in surprise, but once more, she found nothing strange in the question or in his knowledge. “I—I don’t think so. Not recently. She hasn’t stayed in bed all day since before our party. And he’s been so busy he’s hardly been home at all. I told her she should leave him.”

  “And she refused,” Cyrus said flatly.

  “She’s afraid.” Lissa had been thinking of nothing else since Julia had left, and she felt cold now despite the burning heat of the sun. What she had seen in her sister’s eyes had convinced her more completely than words ever could have that the man she had believed to be so wonderful was in fact a monster. “She told me about cases where a man had killed his wife, and nobody thought he’d done anything wrong. I didn’t understand at first, but I think she knows he’d…he’d kill her before he let her leave him.”

  Cyrus looked at her for a moment, then said quietly, “That is not going to happen. Lissa, I want you to go into the house and pack a few things for yourself and Julia. As soon as I bring her back, you’re both coming with me.”

  To Lissa, his words brought only relief. She was nodding with unquestioning acceptance even as she said, “Adrian usually gets home around four.”

  “He won’t today. I’ve sent him halfway across the state to a political meeting. He shouldn’t get back here before midnight, if then.”

  “You sent him?”

  “I’ll explain later. Right now I have to find Julia before this storm hits. Don’t worry if we aren’t back when it does; we’ll take shelter and wait it out. You just be ready to leave the moment we return.”

  “All right. You won’t let him hurt Julia?”

  “No. I’ll take care of you both.”

  “I’m going to marry Mark,” she said, because it was somehow important to her that he know that.

  “Of course you are,” Cyrus said calmly, patting her hand. “After you finish school.”

  Lissa couldn’t help smiling, but all she said was “The storm’s coming; you’d better hurry.” Then she released his sleeve and turned back toward the house, feeling an absolute faith and trust in him so strong that for a very long time she wouldn’t even ask herself where her certainty had come from.

  —

  Julia might not have noticed the approaching storm at all if her horse hadn’t shied nervously as a tangle of dry brush blew across the road in front of him. She steadied him, surprised to realize a strong, hot wind was blowing all around her, rustling through parched leaves and grasses. Becoming fully aware of her surroundings, she saw the angry dark clouds blot out the sun to produce an eerie twilight, and heard a low grumble of thunder.

  She was a long way from the city.

  The road wasn’t particularly wide, but there was no side road she could see in which to turn around. She had no choice but to turn in the too-small space. Her skittish horse fought the reins, growing more nervous with every passing second. She was
on the point of getting out of the buggy and leading him when the sense of someone approaching rather than the sounds made her look over her shoulder.

  She felt absolutely no surprise at seeing Cyrus. He was riding a big Roman-nosed gray that looked powerful enough to carry even its large rider mile after mile, and both the man and horse seemed impervious to the approaching storm.

  Cyrus rode directly to her horse’s head and leaned down to grasp the reins, quieting the agitated animal seemingly by his touch alone rather than by force. Looking back at Julia and raising his voice to be heard over the wind, he said, “We have to take shelter. Hold on.”

  Julia wouldn’t have been foolish enough to argue with him even if she hadn’t felt a peculiar sense of destiny. As he led her horse along the road away from Richmond, she realized where—without being the least aware of her destination—she’d been headed.

  Chapter 7

  “Go inside,” Cyrus told her minutes later, raising his voice again to be heard above the dry whine and crackle of the wind. “I’ll see to the horses.”

  He held her horse steadily enough for her to get out of the buggy. She went up the temporary wooden steps at the side of his new house, where he had brought her. “Inside” was an arguably inaccurate term, since the house’s exterior walls hadn’t risen high enough to enclose even the first floor, but the building was in the dry, with flooring in place and a solid roof to hold off the coming rain.

  Julia stood just inside, shivering a little even though the wind whipping her skirt was still hot. Thunder was booming almost continuously now, and lightning was forking through the leaden gray clouds, but the rain refused to fall.

  She didn’t want to go deeper into the house, not alone. It seemed a bit eerie, shadowed by the roof high above and the darkening afternoon. Bare studs marked the placement of walls, windows, and doorways like bones without flesh. A temporary interior stairway snaked upward to disappear into the partially completed flooring of the second story. The darkly hulking shapes of half-completed fireplaces crouched here and there. Silvery pipes protruding from the floor and walls glistened as the vivid flashes of lightning touched them, and strands of electrical wiring threaded their way among the studs and beams of the wooden skeleton.