Puck and Prejudice

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tuck rubbed the sleep gritting his eyes, and squinted into the twilight seeping into the bedchamber. Odd—it felt as if a sound

somewhere within the house had dragged him from sleep, but it seemed all quiet now. He leaned down and kissed Lizzy’s temple,

then shifted his gaze up to the fancy plaster designs on the ceiling, all roses, grape leaves, and cherubs. In so many ways,

this felt like where he was supposed to be—except not. His stomach twisted at the thought of leaving Nora all alone. He was

her family.

But why not take Lizzy when he went? Imagine her in jeans, driving his Jeep, or on a date night at a wine bar, wearing a killer

black dress paired with heels. The thought of her reaction to everyday activities like grocery shopping or going to the movies

made him grin. Damn, it would be so much fun.

And what about her family? It wasn’t as if Rufus Alby or Henry would be devastated by her absence.

She deserved happiness, and he could give her that.

Wait.

He froze—ears straining. The faint, far-off sound rose again—the same one that must have woken him up. Goose bumps broke out

down the backs of his arms. Somewhere in the house a woman wailed.

Lizzy stirred, her lids flying open. “Mamma,” she mumbled, pushing herself up to sit. “Why is she crying like that?”

They rose and poured water from the pitcher into the porcelain basin, cleaning themselves before dressing quickly. All the

while, the wails continued. Tuck’s guts clenched at the sound.

They crept downstairs. Lizzy’s mother was in the drawing room, pacing in front of the fireplace, a letter half crumpled in

one hand.

“Mamma?” Lizzy’s voice was sharp with worry. “What has happened?”

“There you are! Where have you been hiding away? I’ve been beside myself with worry.”

“You’re frightening me.”

“A most dreadful accident occurred at the Row this very afternoon. A horse took a fright and bolted and a man died. We know

him—it’s Frank Witt, the husband of your friend Cornelia.”

“No.” Lizzy pressed a hand to her mouth. “That’s impossible. I saw her the other night and she was so happy.”

“And now she’ll never see him again. Oh, Elizabeth, it’s a most ghastly turn of events. He was promenading with her when a

white horse of doom flew into a wild frenzy—something must have spooked it. Frank removed dear Cornelia from harm’s way, but

in doing so he was run down. He met his untimely demise on the dirt path in full view. I say, an indecorous end for a member

of such a respectable family.”

“Mamma!” Lizzy looked annoyed if not shocked. “A good man is dead. I think we can leave off dissecting whether or not his

end had sufficient decorum.”

“Well.” Her mother plucked a handkerchief from the sofa and dabbed her eyes. “I imagine it is of importance to his dear mother. The family is making funeral arrangements, but we shall all be calling to pay our respects prior, of course. Poor Cornelia, she will look ghastly in mourning. Remember how washed out she appeared after her father’s death? Black doesn’t suit her coloring in the slightest. Her figure’s remained passable, though, so she should be able to make another match. Although I wouldn’t advise Henry to throw over his pursuit of Olivia Abbot Davies.”

And her thirty thousand pounds , Tuck mentally added.

“Mother!” Lizzy’s voice rose. “Frank Witt, whom we have dined with on multiple occasions over the years and who was quite

a kind man, has not been dead a day. I think you can wait to ponder his wife’s marriage prospects.”

Her mother pressed her lips into a thin line. “You’re absolutely right, my dear. Fortunately, Frank’s estate should provide

for Cornelia quite well. She could choose to remain a widow, I suppose, and no one would question her decision. It’s certainly

better than being an ape leader.” She waved her hands between the two of them. “At least you’re saved from that particular

fate.”

Turning toward the door, she added, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must locate my lady’s maid. My puce taffeta has faded to more

of a mauve. I need her opinion on whether it would be suitable for paying condolences. Your gray silk will suffice nicely.

And someone shall locate a black silk armband for Mr.Taylor.”

Then she was gone.

“I’m sorry.” Lizzy sprawled into a chair and kicked out her legs with a frustrated groan. “I wish I could say she means well,

but that would make me a liar. As a widow herself, maybe she feels entitled to her judgment. I’m not certain she loved Papa,

although I recall them being affectionate in their way.”

“Her actions don’t reflect on you.” Tuck knew that from expe rience. “Our families will behave how they are going to behave, and we have no control over it.”

“Try telling that to the ton. She is a ridiculous woman and so I too am at risk to be deemed as such. But then, so are most

of her friends. Poor Cornelia. We aren’t incredibly close, but she is friendly and amusing and had clearly found a love match

with Frank.”

He went around to the back of her chair and placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing the tight muscles. “Your mom talked

about apes. What was that?”

“Oh. That.” She scoffed, plucking a loose thread from her dress. “It’s a particularly charming old adage. As you’ve learned,

women of a marriageable age fit into one of three categories: spinsters, wives, or widows. Among these, only wives or widows

are truly accepted. Spinsters, on the other hand, are considered unnatural. Those who persist in their unwed state are occasionally

dubbed ‘ape leaders,’ a term suggesting their ultimate punishment in hell, where they’ll be forced to lead apes—a supposed

punishment for their controversial lifestyle.”

“The fuck? What the hell is wrong with people?”

“That’s perhaps a little more inelegant than I’d express it, but yes. Exactly.” She buried her face in her hands. “I need

to clear my conscience.”

“What is it?”

“I’m afraid...” Her voice wobbled. “I’m afraid I’ve been too quick to celebrate widowhood. Before I met you, I had no clear understanding of what it might be like to be married to a person whom I not only liked but also respected. I’d been led to the idea that matrimony could never be an agreeable state, so I ignored the evidence that some people have found it quite fulfilling. One such person is Cornelia, who is now moving from wife to widow, and will no doubt find herself the worse for it. You see, she enjoyed her husband’s company, and suddenly I’m struck with the thought that... that...”

He froze. Waiting to see if she’d say the words—which ones exactly, he wasn’t sure, but he hoped they’d have something to

do with her not viewing him as a means to an end. Maybe she’d say that this marriage of convenience had become infinitely

more complicated.

But she never finished her thought, as Henry wandered through the door.

“What’s with all the serious faces? Did somebody die? Ah.” He clicked his tongue. “Pardon me. I heard the news at the club.

I should go pay Olivia a visit. She was rather close to Cornelia. I’m sure she’d appreciate it if I put in an appearance.

What do you think?”

“That you’re an unfeeling monster?” Lizzy asked dully.

“I shouldn’t say unfeeling, no. When I think of marrying Olivia, I have quite a lot of ideas on how to invest all that money

and it makes me quite cheerful indeed.”

“Why is my family so insistent on being awful?” Lizzy addressed this question to the ceiling, but Tuck had to agree.

“You should be grateful that our father even allows you and this oversized colonial bear to remain in residence.” Henry gave

a mocking nod in Tuck’s direction.

During one playoff game, a forward on the Canucks got one in the net. Tuck had put his all into blocking, but it wasn’t his moment. While he was pushing himself off the ice, the scoring player, in his hurry to celebrate with teammates, plowed through the crease, knocking Tuck back on his knees. Normally, he could shake shit off, but that day? He was ornery. And that player? He was a showboating prick. Tuck had made like a bull and charged after him. The only reason he didn’t get off a truly good punch was because he got stopped by a lineman.

He had a sense of déjà vu right now. Henry deserved at least a bloody nose. But Lizzy must have sensed the fact that he was

seeing red, because she caught his eye and gave her head a subtle shake.

No. That will make it worse. He wants to provoke you.

Instead, he used the tactic he’d perfected with his dad and made himself a statue, his face nothing but impassive granite,

staring ahead. The strategy worked as Henry soon shuffled off. No doubt there was a kitten to kick somewhere.

“We must go pay our respects,” Lizzy said. “You’ll come with me, won’t you? I’m dreading this.”

“I’ll be there every step of the way.”

The next afternoon, Tuck was next to Lizzy and behind her parents as a servant at Cornelia Witt’s townhome ushered them into

a crowded parlor. The gathering was dressed like a bruise; everywhere were black, gray, brown, or purple outfits. The atmosphere

was subdued, yet an undeniable frenetic energy buzzed through the air. It was as though most folks present couldn’t help but

feel a strange thrill amidst the unexpected news of death. Folks whispered, and tutted, and stared around wide-eyed, registering

who was making an appearance.

In the center of the space sat the widow, dully staring out the window, as if outside was another reality, one in which her

husband still lived and her life was as it had always been.

“I must go and speak to her,” Lizzy whispered to him. “I think it best if you don’t. It must all be feeling very raw, and

I don’t want to remind her of any of my recent happiness. It feels cruel.”

“Understood. I’m very good at standing around and ignoring people.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Thank you for understanding.”

He stood by a potted plant as Lizzy approached Cornelia, giving her a quick embrace before taking a seat beside her. Cornelia

took her hand and appeared to be present for a moment. She and Lizzy spoke for around five minutes, heads close together,

before Lizzy nodded, they embraced again, and Lizzy took her leave.

For the rest of the hour that they were there, Lizzy barely spoke. They stood side by side until Tuck took to counting the

seconds in his head before they could depart. It wasn’t until they were back in her room that he felt able to speak freely.

“What happened? It looked as if your conversation got intense fast.”

“I’d already felt guilty. After speaking with Cornelia, I am a wretch. She told me how happy her marriage had made her and

that if I found even a fraction of the same joy with you, then it would make even the hard parts worth it. Cornelia said she’d

always grown up imagining what it would be like to be a beautiful bride, and live a fairy tale, but not what to do if it came

to an end. She hoped I had a long time before we concluded our story. And that I should never take anyone I love for granted

for even a minute.” Lizzy began to pace, one arm wrapped tightly around her middle. “But we can’t ever presume we can just

grow old together. Or that this strange, sad world is fair or makes sense.

“If we want to ensure you are back in time for the next chance at going home, we will need to leave within a few weeks. That

will give us a little time to say goodbye.”

“But I don’t want to say goodbye, Lizzy.”

She wiped her eyes. “You can’t remain here. It was a happy idea, but it cannot practically work. What if your sickness re turns? There is no medicine in this time to save you and I’ll be hanged to watch a doctor cover you in leeches when I know that somewhere else, you could live, but you were dying to be with me. I won’t do it; I can’t do it. It’ll be difficult enough to be a widow as a ruse, but I don’t want to know the pain of knowing you are truly gone forever. At least this way I can think that you are out there somewhere.”

“But—Lizzy—you’d be such great friends with Nora. You could—”

“I can’t live in your time. My place is here. I have my friends—Georgie and Jane. I’ll leave London and live at the Woodlands.

And while Mamma is difficult, I can’t force her to endure the loss of a child. Thanks to you, no one will bother me about

spinsterhood. I’ll be respectable even if I remain independent forever, and someday I’ll inherit Georgie’s estate. I have

my writing. I haven’t been able to focus on it, but I want to; the fact that Jane was able to have success is motivating me

to want to work hard.”

“You don’t want to be with me?”

“We will have a few more weeks. Then we must face reality. I want you to have your dreams, and I want mine.”

“What about the dream of you and me together?” he asked.

“That...” Her smile was sad. “That was make-believe, don’t you know? All the very best love stories end tragically.”