Discovering the Devil

T h i r t y - f i v e

XXXV

PENELOPE was the victim of countless intercessions for the rest of the weekend. She tried to make them understand her view, but she knew they never would.

How could you understand if you'd never seen your mother with a busted, bloody lip? How could you think of marriage as some grand institution if you'd seen just how damage it could cause? If her mother had been a mistress, it would've come with countless social repercussions, this was true. But, she would never would've been subject to the abuse that the Count of Au Printemps inflicted on her. Penelope did not believe her man was capable of hurting a fly, much less inflicting atrocities on her person. But once, during the honeyed beginnings of love, Penelope knew her mother had thought the same thing—and look what that assumption had brought her. It was better to never take the risk.

Harry did his best to stay out of her sight. Penelope did everything she could to seek him out and explain—she knew she had broken his heart. She could feel the shattered pieces of his love around every corner of Berkeley—and the fact that she was the cause of so much pain crippled her. Nevertheless, it was no use. He could not even look at her, much less stand her presence for more than a few minutes. Penelope saw their carriage ride back to Hawthorne as a chance to explain herself still, and she could take advantage of every single second. Harry looked out the window throughout all of it.

"Please say something," Penelope pleaded at last. "Please."

"You said something about the funds for a cottage," Harry replied.

"I discussed it with Charlotte and Emma, yes."

"Whatever you don't have, I can supplement. I think it's best that you left Hawthorne as soon as possible."

Blood whirred through Penelope's ears. "Harry..."

"I can give you references for some houses where you find some income. I believe one of the households I recommended earlier is still in need of a lady's companion."

"And what about us?" Harry continued to stare at the landscape through the glass. "For the love of God, look at me!"

"And say what?" Harry bellowed brokenly. "And do what? By God, what do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you," Penelope sobbed. "I just want to be with you."

"That is impossible."

"Marriage does not have to be the final destination of what is between us."

"I love you Penelope, you know I do. But I cannot be with a woman who doesn't not trust me...who actually thinks..." Harry broke off and shook his head. "I cannot."

"If we are committed to each other, truly committed, we can have a lifetime. Why does our love have to be sealed by a priest and paper?"

"It signifies a commitment to a union. I do not want to be with someone who sees marriage to me as some sort of bondage."

Marriage is bondage, Penelope thought, but she refrained from voicing this thought aloud. "A lifetime with you is a blessing. I know that."

Harry shook his head. "You think I would hit you."

"I do not think that," Penelope whispered.

"Those words left your lips. Don't deny it."

"I mistrust the institution, not you."

"Semantics."

"Harry—"

"Please." His voice was so quiet Penelope nearly missed it. "Leave it. Just leave it."