Page 17 of The Unforgiven
She tried to imagine what her father’s family might be like but drew a blank. Daddy had never spoken of his home or his kin. He’d always said that both he and Corinne had been orphaned at a young age and had no one but themselves to rely on. Madeline had never had grandparents, aunts and uncles, or cousins. When her mother had grown heavy with child, Madeline had nearly burst with longing at the thought of the coming sibling. She wouldn’t be alone anymore. She would have an ally in life long after her parents were gone. There were days when she’d prayed for a sister, and other days when she’d thought it might be better to have a brother. He wouldn’t be able to protect her or look after her as an older brother might, but it would still be nice to have a male relative in a world where females weren’t treated with respect unless they were on the arm of a man.
Madeline pushed away her plate, no longer hungry. It had been a boy, a brother to love and spoil, but he never drew breath. He’d died before he was even born and took their mother with him. Perhaps he’d needed her in Heaven. He’d been too little to be alone, but Madeline had needed her mother too. She’d put on a brave face for Daddy, who had seemed to lose the will to live after losing his beloved Corinne and his long-awaited son. He’d stood on the edge of an abyss, and Madeline had been the only one whocould coax him away and remind him that he still had a reason to go on. It had taken several years, and she’d thought Daddy was doing better. He’d smiled and laughed, and taken her on outings. They’d even had company on occasion, and now she’d learned that he had grown close to Miss Cole. Daddy had had everything to live for. Why would God take him now when he was finally on the road to recovery?
It weren’t god that took him, child, it was the drink. Madeline could almost hear Mammy’s voice in her head. Yes, it had been the drink. Daddy had been fond of drinking, and he’d grown reckless since Mama died. It had brought him comfort and helped him sleep, and now he would sleep forever next to his wife and son while Madeline was left on her own, stripped of all she held dear.
She heard a sniffle and turned to listen. She’d thought she was alone downstairs, but clearly someone was still here. She took the oil lamp and made her way down the corridor, shining the light into the empty rooms. She stopped when she saw Miss Cole huddled on a settee by the window, her head in her arms. Madeline walked softly into the room and set the lamp in a far corner, so as not to shine the light into Miss Cole’s face.
The governess looked up. Her eyes were puffy from crying, her nose red, and her legs drawn up on the settee in a most unladylike way. Madeline took a seat across from her and held out her hand, but Miss Cole didn’t take it. She seemed to draw even further into herself, her eyes fixed on some distant point beyond Madeline’s shoulder.
“He said I’d never be on my own again,” Miss Cole whispered. “He promised me a future, something I never dared to hope for.”
“Did he say he loved you?” Madeline asked. She felt sorry for Miss Cole, but the idea of her father loving anyone other than her mother still hurt, even now that he was gone.
Miss Cole shook her head. “I know he didn’t love me, not in the way he loved his wife, but he was fond of me and he would have come to love me in time. He was lonely. He needed someone.”
“He had me.”
“Men get lonely in a different way, Madeline. He loved you dearly, but he needed the love of a woman to let go of his grief. I could have made him happy,” she added miserably.
“I’m sure you could have,” Madeline agreed, but she didn’t really believe it. Miss Cole was so different from her mother, so—what was the right word?—colorless. Corinne Besson had been beautiful and gay. She could tease her husband out of a sour mood in moments, and suddenly he would smile at her like a besotted boy and beg for a kiss, which she wouldn’t give until she was good and ready and sure that he was putty in her hands.
They had laughed a lot, her parents, and they had loved. Madeline had been young and ignorant of the ways of men and women, but she’d known happiness when she saw it. She’d known two people who couldn’t be apart for long and gravitated toward each other whenever they were in the same room. Her father’s hand had always reached for her mother, and she’d leaned into him when she thought no one was looking, her body fitting into the curve of his as if they’d been created as one and split into two halves, never truly whole unless together.
He’d never laughed with Miss Cole, and his hand had never reached out to her. They were two separate beings who could never become two parts of a whole. Madeline would have known if her father loved this woman; she would have sensed it. Perhaps Miss Cole had wanted to be part of a family so badly that she’d magnified what Charles Besson felt for her. Perhaps she had been the one truly in love and with plans for the future.
“What will you do now?” Madeline asked. She might have turned to Miss Cole for comfort before she knew of her feelings, but now Madeline felt resentful and annoyed. Miss Cole had beenkind and caring toward her, but perhaps it was just a ruse to show Charles what a good stepmother she’d make and how loving she would be to a child.
Miss Cole shook her head. “I don’t know. I have nowhere to go. Mr. Larson said I’ll be paid till the end of the month, but that gives me very little time to find another position.”
“Have you no savings?” Madeline knew the question was indelicate, but she was curious what a woman on her own could do in this situation. She might have found herself on her own if not for these mysterious relatives who were willing to take her in without having met her.
“I have some, but money goes very quickly when one has to pay for one’s lodgings. If I don’t find employment as a governess by the end of the month, I’ll work as a seamstress. Mrs. Bonnard’s shop always has openings, and she offers room and board.”
“And a wage?” Madeline asked, curious. She sewed very well; her stitches were even and tiny, and her embroidery exquisite. Possible employment was something to keep in mind should things not work out with her relatives.
“Mrs. Bonnard pays a pittance,” Miss Cole replied, her tone bitter. “The work is tedious and the hours are long, but it’s a respectable place, and sometimes gentlemen come with their mothers and sisters.”
“Why does that matter?”
Miss Cole looked up, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. “Madeline, my dear, you will discover very quickly that a respectable marriage is the only desirable option for a woman. Your only value lies in your youth, your beauty, and your innocence. Once those things are gone, you have nothing to bargain with. You will spend your days alone, in servitude to someone else, struggling to survive.”
“You still have youth, beauty, and innocence, Miss Cole,” Madeline replied, wondering if she misunderstood.
“I’m twenty-two.” Miss Cole sighed. “And I’m neither beautiful nor innocent. Forgive me, Madeline. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Madeline didn’t really understand what Miss Cole meant or why she needed to be forgiven, but decided not to pursue the topic. Perhaps she simply meant that she was more knowledgeable of the world than someone like Madeline. Mammy had said that men didn’t like smart women because they made them realize what fools they really were, so perhaps Miss Cole was better off working as a seamstress after all.
“I’d better start packing,” Miss Cole said as she slowly got to her feet.
“Will you come to the funeral?”
“Of course. I owe your father that much.”
“Did he not leave you anything?” Madeline asked.
Miss Cole looked at Madeline, her eyes full of sorrow. “He left me something precious, but I must dispose of it if I am to survive.”
“I don’t understand,” Madeline replied. Why did grown-ups always talk in riddles?
