Mrs Redwood called it a lover's tiff. Mrs Follet hesitatingly suggested Grace should not be too quick to judge. Neither of them knew the full truth, and Grace was not going to tell them. Not yet, anyway. It was less painful to go to London with Harriet and lick her wounds in private. Once her initial anger faded, there was a lot of hurt. She had cared for James more than she dared admit. Over the early days of her empty marriage, she tormented herself by thinking back over the past months and trying to decipher the pretence and seduction from the truth. Had he meant that first kiss, or had it just been a ploy to soften her to him? Had he meant any of them, when she had been liquid in his arms, his touch bringing fire to her veins? There had been times they had almost gone too far but he had always pulled back. If he had really felt for her — really loved her, as he had almost said — he would not have been so self-controlled.
It was better not to think about him. Thankfully, Harriet's house was too noisy and chaotic to give much opportunity for clear thought. In seven years of marriage, the Undertons had had six children. The oldest was six years and the youngest six months. There was always trouble afoot, a problem for Grace to occupy herself with, or for Harriet to fret about. Only at night was there enough quiet to think about James, and then Grace muffled her tears in her pillow.
After Easter, Mrs Follet thought it appropriate to allow Alice and Emma to attend small dinners and parties again, as it had been very nearly six months since Mr Follet's death. Several times, they were invited somewhere in London, and Grace acted as chaperone for them, feeling uncomfortable in her new duty. Nothing had really changed in her marriage that never was. She was no more knowledgable about men or marriage than her younger sisters were. Perhaps less, as she was so easily fooled. They could not look to her for guidance.
Alice was in need of no guidance anyway. She was pretty and bold, which brought her to the attention of male admirers and female friends, while being too cynical to ever need protection from unsuitable acquaintances. Emma was shyer and spent more of her time with Grace. It gave Grace the chance to hear a little about James. He was still living with his parents in Richmond. Emma met him sometimes, riding his horse or walking about the village.
"He doesn't seem happy," she said. "He asks after you."
"What do you tell him?"
"That he should come and ask you himself."
"He won't come. I told him not to bother me. I am done with men. Even my husband. There is not a man I have— have known who has not disappointed me."
It had been on the tip of her tongue to say loved. She had thought of her father and Benson. But she had not loved James. She had been mistaken even in liking him.
One night in late April, Grace found herself at a dinner party seated next to another man who had disappointed her expectations, and love had not even been required there. It was David Demery. She was slightly afraid to be near him, but it seemed he did not recognize her. After a few polite attempts at conversation, he gave up and turned his attention to the woman on his other side, who seemed more than grateful for it. He was handsome, Grace supposed, though he might have been handsomer if his smile ever reached his eyes.
Grace thought that was the beginning and end of a slightly awkward situation, but she was mistaken. After dinner, once the men returned to the drawing room for coffee, Demery approached Grace again, under the guise of looking at a painting on the wall that she was examining, and spoke.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I did not recognize you before, Miss Follet."
"It is Mrs Redwood now."
"Of course. You married... him."
Grace made an indeterminate sound and started to move away.
"Wait, please," he said. "I would like to say something."
Reluctantly, Grace stopped.
"When I last saw you," Demery continued in a low voice, "I hit you. It was not my intention, but it was my fault. I would like, if you would be so gracious, the chance to apologize for my behaviour."
Grace was too surprised by his purpose and the dispassionate, manners-book mode of his expression to at first respond. She tried to choose words as elegant as his. "It does not require much generosity to grant you it."
"I know this must be more than slightly embarrassing," Demery said. "You are the wife of the man who... But his misdeeds are his alone, and I was careless and violent to have involved you in my ill-conceived essay for justice. My actions must have shocked you, and I hurt you. I am sorry."
Grace might have found it easier to accept had it been a little briefer. She was uncomfortably aware that people were staring at them. "I thank you, Mr Demery. The matter is forgotten."
But not quite forgiven. Perhaps Demery suspected so from her tone. He bowed and moved away, back to the woman who had engaged his attention at dinner. Grace watched them out of the corner of her eye. She did not think the woman had much chance. Mr Demery was all polite smiles and distant eyes. When somebody started to play the piano and a space was cleared for dancing, he ignored the hint boldly. Another man asked the woman to dance, and she went away with him.
Alice found a partner and Grace gave her permission to dance, but Emma was less lucky and sat with Grace by the wall.
"I wouldn't mind it so much," she said in a quiet voice, "if Alice wasn't always asked first. I'm twenty-two. I think in four years I've had fewer dances than Alice in the past one — and for half of it she's been in mourning."
"Alice is an incorrigible flirt," Grace said. "If a man does not ask her, she asks him."
"I would not dare. Though I wish I did." Emma tugged at a drooping curl which had been achieved only through the art of curling papers and the science of a hot iron. Alice's came naturally. "I really thought I looked pretty tonight."
"You do," Grace said. "Look." She ran her gaze around the room and noticed Demery still sitting on the couch, watching the dancers without seeing them. "Would you dance with that man? I know him a little. He is a friend of Mr Montague."
Emma bit her lip. "You were talking with him earlier. You did not look pleased."
"He's not a friend of mine," Grace said. "He will not be a friend of yours either. But if he dances with you, some other young man might become interested, and he is neither dangerous nor reproachable. And I think he will dance with you, if I ask."
"Alright. Thank you."
Grace crossed the room to Mr Demery and sat next to him. He looked at her, rather confused.
"I'd like to ask you a favour, Mr Demery," she said. "I believe you owe me one."
"Is it even a favour then?"
"Very well. I'd like you to pay a debt owing."
He smiled, though it did not lighten the sadness in his eyes. "What is the favour?"
"I would like you to dance with my sister. She cannot find a partner."
Demery glanced across the room toward Emma. "I am afraid I would not be an elegant partner tonight."
"Emma would be grateful for any partner." Grace saw that Demery still looked reluctant. "She is a very pretty dancer, Mr Demery. If she stands up, I am sure she will catch the eye of other men. The difficulty lies in finding a man who would stand up with her to begin with. Which is why I have asked you, because you are somewhat in my debt. It is only one dance, Mr Demery, and all will be forgotten."
Demery's jaw tensed. "Are you always so forceful in your dealings with men?"
"I often find it necessary with your sex."
To her surprise, the tenseness lightened as he gave what was not quite a laugh but perhaps an amused sigh. "Very well. I will dance with her, Mrs Redwood."
"Thank you." Grace caught Emma's eye and nodded, but remained on the couch by Demery. There had been some stiffness to the way he said Redwood that rankled at her. She should not interfere. Mr Demery struck her as the type of man who resented interfering women, and, besides, any interference would probably do little good anyway. Nor was James deserving of any kindness from her. But...
There were none who could overhear them, and everybody was watching the dance. "It was not James, Mr Demery."
"What do you mean?"
"James is not the father of Miss Balley's baby."
"He would naturally tell you that."
She shook her head. "My husband lies, but he would not lie about his own child. He has never even met Miss Balley."
Demery's expression darkened, but his tone was quite civil when he replied. "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because everybody believes it is James. Everybody who does not know him, that is. They all think he seduced and abandoned Miss Balley. I cannot persuade the rest of London that he is innocent, but you might believe me. You might at least do me the grace of questioning the situation."
Demery shook his head. "Why would Catherine lie about the father of her child?"
"I don't know." Grace noticed Demery's upper lip curl and added quickly, "Perhaps she was frightened of telling the truth. Perhaps the truth, whatever it was, was far worse than naming an innocent man."
Demery looked at the carpet and rubbed the toe of his shoe gently back and forth across the weave. The dance was coming to an end. Grace hoped she had not just ruined Emma's chances.
"How do you know that Redwood didn't lie to you?" he asked quietly, not looking up.
"Because I know every one of his past lovers was a married woman. And I know him. He may be a coward and a fool." Grace's voice wavered. "And a thoroughly awful man. But he would not abandon his own child. He is not irresponsible. He knows where his duties lie."
"Why would Catherine blame a man she never met?" Demery spoke almost to himself. "Why would she do such a cruel thing?"
"Because James has a reputation to support the accusation, perhaps."
"That is not what I mean. Why, Mrs Redwood, would she lie? Did she not trust me? Her father?"
Grace waited in silence, unwilling to tell Demery that very often women did not.
"Are you sure that I have done Redwood wrong?" Demery asked after a moment.
"I am certain."
"Yet I think, by your tone, that he has hurt you?"
"I never said he was a good man. Indeed, some days I think him the worst of men, but he does not deserve to be believed guilty of a crime he never committed."
"You have damned him in every possible way while standing up for his innocence." Demery smiled faintly and very sadly. "If you love him, can you not forgive him?"
Grace's fingers trembled. She looked ahead very determinedly, the movement of the dancers and the glowing lights and shadows of the drawing room suddenly blurred with tears. "I might ask the same of you and Miss Balley." The music ended and the dancers stopped. "Now, sir, do you not owe my sister a dance?"
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2022-08-12 A/N: I am feeling that Watty deadline breathing down my neck. One chapter and an epilogue to go.