Bearding the Lion

England, 1860

She would beard the lion in his den, and, this time, she would not leave without the answers to all of her questions.

Mrs. Susannah Derrington brushed past the old butler, scarcely allowing him time to finish announcing her name.

A tall, dark figure by the fireplace turned briefly, then returned his regard to the fire before growling,

"How the hell did you get in here?"

"Well, my lord, I am glad to know that some things never change," replied the lady. Mrs. Derrington stripped off her gloves and threw them down beside her reticule on the library table. She was a young woman, still in her first youth, with large, dark eyes and delicate features. Despite her youth and beauty, she wore unrelieved black. Her clothing was stylish and costly, but nonetheless indicated heavy mourning.

She stood in the center of the large rug, determination in every muscle, and said,

"I am here for answers."

"I thought you might be." The man beside the huge marble fireplace did not turn around, but kept his gaze fixed on the dancing flames, one black, booted foot resting on a lion-headed andiron.

The gentleman did not say any more, so Mrs. Derrington plunged on, as though she had rehearsed the speech many times, which, indeed, she had.

"It is time for you to tell me the truth. It has been almost a year since my husband disappeared, since you told me he was dead. At the time I was too shocked to question anything I was told. Since then, I have had time to think of a good many questions. And I'm not the only one. No one dares ask in my presence, but I know that there is wild speculation among our friends and acquaintances."

"It's none of their damned business."

Susannah closed her eyes briefly, the only indication of annoyance.

"People do not simply disappear" she went on. "And having you locked up here by yourself, refusing to see anyone, only causes further questions."

The gentleman was stubbornly silent.

She was not above using any art she might in the advancement of her cause, so she softened her tone to a gentle pleading.

"Edward, please."

"Do not think to affect me with your feminine charms, Mrs. Derrington," answered my lord harshly. "And who gave you leave to use my Christian name?"

Susannah opened her mouth and shut it again.

Finally, she said, "You did yourself, my lord." All softness gone, she placed heavy emphasis on the formal title. "We were once friends, if you recall. At least, I considered us to be friends."

A heavy silence hung over the room, relieved only by the crackle of the fire.

Susannah strode to stand beside the man by the fire, all trace of pleading replaced with urgency.

"You were his brother, Edward. You loved him. Can you honestly tell me that you do not know and you do not care to know what happened to him?"

"I told you, he was called away on business and was in an accident. His body was too badly mangled to bring home."

"Yes, I know that is what you told me. But what business? He had no business. He was the younger son. His business was to be a gentleman, a man at leisure, spending the fortune of his forebears in order to keep up the family name. What business could possibly have called him away in such a hurry that he could not even contact me to say he was going? What business could he have had that did not have to do with either our affairs or the estate? In either case, he would have let both of us, you and me, know what he was doing. And yet you yourself profess ignorance of his destination, who he might have sought to meet, how he meant to get there, and what, precisely happened to kill him."

Susannah paused to calm the rising panic in her voice. She would never convince Edward to help her if he thought she was another hysterical female. He had always despised hysterical females.

"Edward, you did not even go to identify the body. How do we know it was he?"

Edward abruptly turned away from the fireplace, startling Susannah.

"Dammit, woman, leave be."

Susannah looked into the face of the man she had known all of her life, a face as familiar as David's had been. She had grown up with them, the three of them running wild over their families' adjoining estates, until the adult world had intruded. Edward had gone first to Oxford, then David had gone. Finally, Susannah had entered society, a pretty young heiress. No one had seemed surprised, when, after only one year as the belle of London society, Susannah had dismissed all of her other beaux and accepted David Derrington's offer of marriage.

And now he was gone. Dead, according to David's own brother, according to all reason. And yet Susannah could not make herself feel that he was gone. She had had no opportunity to say goodbye before he left, before he was gone forever.

Over the past six months, she had tried many times to see Edward, Lord Farlington, her childhood friend and brother-in-law, but since David's death, he had become a recluse. He had always been something of a loner, always held part of himself in reserve. Susannah had tried years before to break through that reserve but had given up when she had, instead, roused Edward's anger. And now he was denying himself to everyone, even the one person who had loved David as well as he had.

"I cannot leave be," Susannah said, her voice low, throbbing with passion. "He was my husband, Edward. How can I go on with life, when part of me still doubts that he is gone?" She stopped and dropped her head, willing away the tears which had sprung into them.

Lord Farlington looked down upon the bent head, and frowned. Every muscle in his body strained against the rigid hold he kept upon them.

Finally, he spoke, his voice bland, devoid of the emotion he ruthlessly supressed.

"It is too late for you to go back to London tonight. You may stay the night and I'll have my carriage drive you home in the morning. Or would you rather go to your parents?"

Anger flared in her breast and the widow raised her face, furious at his rude dismissal, furious at the realization that he meant to withold the truth from her still.

"I know you know more. I'm not a child, Edward. You don't have to protect me!"

Edward turned away from her without a word and walked toward the door.

"I have a right to know!"

He put his hand on the door handle.

Desperate, Susannah said the first thing that came to mind, the one thing she knew would stop him.

"You're jealous!"

Susannah saw Lord Farlington straighten suddenly, and she knew, though he faced away from her, that his face was etched with anger. The arrow had gone straight to its mark.

"You've always been jealous," Susannah went on. "David had everything you wanted: wit, charm, humor, a wife, a life of ease. All of the things you could have had, but chose to forego. For what? So you could live here on the estate and rot until you're an old man!"

She knew it would come, but even so, Edward's anger frightened her.

"Stop!" he roared, turning to face her.

Susannah's breath caught for a moment, but she rushed on, no longer able to stop the torrent of words.

"What happened, Edward? You couldn't stand the competition? You used to be the life of the party until David came into the room. You could charm any lady until David was in the room. In fact, at one time I thought you rather charming myself, but when David came, you faded into the background. Jealousy has eaten you up since we were children!"

Susannah gasped as Edward grabbed her shoulders and gave her one sharp shake.

He spoke through clenched teeth.

"You don't know anything about it."

"Oh, very clever, Edward." Susannah ignored the alarm bells which rang in her head. "That's a brilliant set-down. David would be impressed."

For a moment, Susannah thought she may have pushed Edward too far and that he truly would become violent. But she had known him and trusted him all her life and, even in his anger, she would have placed her very life in his hands.

Edward's eyes blazed with fury. After one fraught moment, he pushed away from her, spun on his heel and strode to a large roll-top desk. He picked up an envelope and thrust it into Susannah's hands.

"Here, read."

Immediately, he turned away and resumed his former position by the fire.

Susannah gazed at Edward's rigid back for a moment, then looked down at the envelope. The name on the front was her own, and it was written in David's hand. It had no address or post mark, so it must have been hand delivered. By David himself, she wondered, or someone else?

The anger which had bouyed the widow gradually slipped away, leaving her weak-kneed, and she sank onto the velvet settee.

Her hands were shaking. The after-effects of her outburst. It may also have been because she began to realize that the answers to her questions were now in her own hands.

A sick feeling of dread struck Susannah with sudden force. Was the truth something she truly wanted?

Resolutely, she tore open the envelope. How could the truth be worse than ignorance?

Susannah, it began.

Not Dearest Susannah or Dearest, loveliest wife as he had written soon after their marriage. Just her name.

Susannah,
By now you will know that I have gone. I'm sorry that I was not man enough to tell you in person, but I could not bear the thought of seeing your pretty brown eyes fill up with tears and to know that I had caused them. For, you see, I still have a great deal of affection for you.
I do not, however, love you. I love another woman. You may not remember Miss Eliza Allenford, the seamstress' daughter, and I know what you will think of my choosing someone so far below my station, but I fell in love with her the moment I saw her and knew that any existence without her would be utterly desolate. She feels the same. It was only after I met Eliza that I recognized the true feelings I have for you, the love of an elder brother for a cherished little sister, and I could no longer live as your husband, knowing the fraud I had become.
I know that you will be saddened by my departure, and for that I am sorry. But I also know that you love me and that you will want me to be happy. Be good to Edward as this will be difficult for him, as well.
with all of the love and affection of a brother, David

Susannah looked up from the letter.

In a voice which was strange to her own ears, she asked,

"He is still alive, then?"

Edward was calm now, resigned. "He and Eliza were killed in a train accident in India, six months after they left England."

He looked over his shoulder at Susannah and saw the line of confusion on her forehead. He sighed. Now that the truth was out, better to have the whole truth.

Edward turned to face his brother's widow, but found that he could not look at her. Instead, he directed his scowl across the room at a fringed lamp, and clasped his hands behind his back.

"When David left, he wrote me a letter, as well, telling me what he was doing, and apologizing. In his own way. He asked me to give you that letter and to take care of you. I was so furious that I...I decided to cut him off completely. I told everyone that he had died, and any communication he sent, I returned, unopened. When the letters stopped, I just assumed that he had given up. A couple of months later, I received a letter from an army friend there in Punjab that David and his...his "wife" had been killed in an accident. This friend knew David well. There could be no mistake."

Once again, quiet descended on the library; only the snap of the fire intruded upon the silence. The old books, well used to sorrow, offered their own silent comfort.

Finally, Susannah spoke, so low that Edward had to strain to hear her.

"But why didn't you tell me? Why did you keep his letter?"

Edward picked up a log from beside the fireplace and placed it on the dying fire.

Susannah looked up when he did not answer.

"Edward..."

"Damn it, Susannah, I've told you the truth, isn't that enough?" Edward raked a hand through his hair, disturbing the careful work of his valet.

"Edward, would you stop swearing at me?"

Suddenly, Edward let out a bark of laughter, the sound harsh from disuse as much as from emotion. He looked at Susannah and saw an eyebrow go up in the look of disapproval he so loved to arouse.

"Here you are," he said, "having just learned that your husband ran off with another woman and never really loved you..."

"Edward!" Her voice was mildly reproving rather than angry or hurt.

"I'm sorry, but that's what it amounts to, doesn't it?"

She acknowledged the truth.

"So," Edward continued, "here you are, having just learned that your husband ran off with another woman and never really loved you...and you can spare a scolding for me." He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Incredible, Susannah, really incredible."

"Edward, do not think to distract me from my question. I want to know why you did not tell me the truth immediately."

Susannah looked steadily at her brother-in-law.

She had not descended into tears or hysterics as Edward supposed most women would have done. Rather, she looked more determined than ever, as though she were close to discovering something very important. But the most important, certainly the most devastating, part was past, surely. Why was she so determined to corner him when it was David who had acted the villain?

Edward's gaze faltered and he turned again to look into the fire.

"No, you don't!" Susannah leapt to her feet and strode to stand beside Edward, her skirts swinging dangerously close to the fire. "Look at me!"

Edward forced himself to turn and face her, not with eyes averted, as he wished, but full on. He was terrified that she would read the truth in his eyes. She had always had that ability and it had terrified him from the time they were children, but never more so than on this night.

Suddenly, Susannah put a hand up to cradle Edward's cheek. The touch was so warmly soft and tender that Edward had to fight every urge which clamored within him to turn and run. He had successfully avoided human contact, both physical and emotional, for so long, and now he was remembering why.

"Is it, perhaps," she said softly, "because you wanted to protect me, to shield me from the knowledge that David did not love me? Is it, perhaps, because for all of these years, you have allowed David to have all that was most dear to you because you loved him? Is it, perhaps, because you love me and did not wish to see my heart broken?"

"Stop," Edward rasped, turning his face.

Susannah reached up with her other hand and framed his face, turning it toward her again.

"But, Edward, you did not know. My heart was already broken. When you left off courting me four years ago, you broke my heart. I didn't know what I had done to make you go away, but I made up my mind to accept the first man who offered me marriage. And that was David. But it was you I loved, Edward. It is you I love."

Edward gazed into Susannah's face, years of frustration and despair slowly falling away. Unable to speak, Edward moved forward and gathered her into his arms.

"Oh, Edward," she said, her voice muffled against his coat, "I was such a fool. David and I should never have married, but when he offered, I thought we might get along well enough, just as we always had. But we were not three months wed before I knew that I had made a terrible mistake."

Susannah pulled away to look into Edward's face again.

"In truth," she said, "I am not terribly surprised by his actions, though I was not aware of his tendre for little Eliza Allenford. Edward, say something."

Edward managed a smile.

"I don't know what to say. I am like a man who has been pardoned on the scaffold."

"But, Edward, why did you stop courting me in the first place? Did I do something to offend you?"

Edward closed his eyes and shook his head slightly.

"No, nothing like it, my darling. How could you offend me? It was just my own...my own misguided notion of chivalry, I suppose. I thought that you preferred David and I had no desire to set myself up as his rival, so I decided to leave you both to your happiness." Edward smiled bitterly. "Once again, my idiocy has caused nothing but heart ache."

"Hush," Susannah scolded. "We were none of us terribly wise in the way we behaved." Susannah glanced down then, sobering suddenly. "But, Edward, will David always be between us?" She looked up then, her brown eyes full of love and fledgling hope. "Can we ever be together?"

Edward bent his face close to Susannah's.

"We are together," he reminded her.

"Yes, but..."

"Hush." Edward placed light kisses on her brow, her eyelids; he trailed them down her cheek and left more on her ear.

"We've wasted far too much time apart already," he said. "And if anyone does object to our union...," He gave a wicked chuckle. "...I don't give a damn."

"Edward!" Susannah's admonishment was smothered by a fierce kiss, true love's first kiss.