“A convenient path to sin—I’ve said so since you insisted on starting this business.” She nodded as if Grayson’s presence there only confirmed her opinion. “You haven’t answered me, Brianna.”
“And I shouldn’t, but I’ll answer you. I haven’t given my body to him, or to anyone.”
Maeve waited a moment, then nodded again. “Well, a liar you’ve never been, so I’ll believe you.”
“I can’t find it in me to care what you believe.” It was temper she knew that had her knees trembling as she rose. “Do you think I’m proud and happy to have never known a man, to have never found one who would love me? I’ve no wish to live my life alone, or to forever be making baby things for some other woman’s child.”
“Don’t raise your voice to me, girl.”
“What good does it do to raise it?” Brianna took a deep breath, fought for calm. “What good does it do not to? I’ll help Lottie with the tea.”
“You’ll stay where you are.” Mouth grim, Maeve angled her head. “You should thank God on your knees for the life you lead, my girl. You’ve a roof over your head and money in your pocket. It may be I don’t like how you earn it, but you’ve made some small success out of your choice in what many would consider an honest living. Do you think a man and babies can replace that? Well, you’re wrong if you do.”
“Maeve, what are you badgering the girl about now?” Wearily Lottie came in and set down the tea tray.
“Stay out of this, Lottie.”
“Please.” Coolly, calmly, Brianna inclined her head. “Let her finish.”
“Finish I will. I had something once I could call mine. And I lost it." Maeve’s mouth trembled once, but she firmed it, hardened it. “Lost any chance I had to be what I’d wanted to be. Lust and nothing more, the sin of it. With a baby in my belly what could I be but some man’s wife?”
“My father’s wife,” Brianna said slowly.
“So I was. I conceived a child in sin and paid for it my whole life.”
“You conceived two children,” Brianna reminded her.
“Aye, I did. The first, your sister, carried that mark with her. Wild she was and will always be. But you were a child of marriage and duty.”
“Duty?”
With her hands planted on either arm of her chair, Maeve leaned forward, and her voice was bitter. “Do you think I wanted him to touch me again? Do you think I enjoyed being reminded why I would never have my heart’s desire? But the Church says marriage should produce children. So I did my duty by the Church and let him plant another child in me.”
“Duty,” Brianna repeated, and the tears she might have shed were frozen in her heart. “With no love, no pleasure. Is that what I came from?”
“There was no need to share my bed with him when I knew I carried you. I suffered another labor, another birth, and thanked God it would be my last.”
“You never shared a bed with him. All those years.”
“There would be no more children. With you I had done what I could to absolve my sin. You don’t have Maggie’s wildness. There’s a coolness in you, a control. You’ll use that to keep yourself pure—unless you let some man tempt you. It was nearly so with Rory.”
“I loved Rory.” She hated knowing she was so near tears. For her father, she thought, and the woman he had loved and let go.
“You were a child.” Maeve dismissed the heartbreak of youth. “But you’re a woman now, and pretty enough to draw a man’s eye. I want you to remember what can happen if you let them persuade you to give in. The one upstairs, he’ll come and he’ll go as he pleases. Forget that, and you could end up alone, with a baby growing under your apron and shame in your heart.”
“So often I wondered why there was no love in this house.” Brianna took in a shuddering breath and struggled to steady her voice. “I knew you didn’t love Da, couldn’t somehow. It hurt me to know it. But then when I learned from Maggie about your singing, your career, and how you’d lost that, I thought I understood, and could sympathize for the pain you must have felt.”
“You could never know what it is to lose all you’ve ever wanted.”
“No, I can’t. But neither can I understand a woman, any woman, having no love in her heart for the children she carried and birthed.” She lifted her hands to her cheeks. But they weren’t wet. Dry and cold they were, like marble against her fingers. “Always you’ve blamed Maggie for simply being born. Now I see I was nothing more than a duty to you, a sort of penance for an earlier sin.”
“I raised you with care,” Maeve began.
“With care. No, it’s true you never raised your hand to me the way you did with Maggie. It’s a miracle she didn’t grow to hate me for that alone. It was heat with her, and cold discipline with me. And it worked well, made us, I suppose, what we are.”
Very carefully she sat again, picked up her yarn. “I’ve wanted to love you. I used to ask myself why it was I could never give you more than loyalty and duty. Now I see it wasn’t the lack in me, but in you.”
“Brianna.” Appalled, and deeply shaken, Maeve got to her feet. “How can you say such things to me? I’ve only tried to spare you, to protect you.”
“I’ve no need of protection. I’m alone, aren’t I, and a virgin, just as you wish it. I’m knitting a blanket for another woman’s child as I’ve done before, and will do again. I have my business, as you say. Nothing has changed here, Mother, but for an easing of my conscience. I’ll give you no less than I’ve always given you, only I’ll stop berating myself for not giving more.”
Dry-eyed again, she looked up. “Will you pour the tea, Lottie? I want to tell you about the vacation you and Mother will be taking soon. Have you been to France?”
“No.” Lottie swallowed the lump in her throat. Her heart bled for both the women. She sent a look of sorrow toward Maeve, knowing no way to comfort. With a sigh she poured the tea. “No,” she repeated. “I’ve not been there. Are we going, then?”
“Yes, indeed.” Brianna picked up the rhythm of her knitting. “Very soon if you like. I’ll be talking to Maggie about it tomorrow.” She read the sympathy in Lottie’s eyes and made herself smile. “You’ll have to go shopping for a bikini.”
“And I shouldn’t, but I’ll answer you. I haven’t given my body to him, or to anyone.”
Maeve waited a moment, then nodded again. “Well, a liar you’ve never been, so I’ll believe you.”
“I can’t find it in me to care what you believe.” It was temper she knew that had her knees trembling as she rose. “Do you think I’m proud and happy to have never known a man, to have never found one who would love me? I’ve no wish to live my life alone, or to forever be making baby things for some other woman’s child.”
“Don’t raise your voice to me, girl.”
“What good does it do to raise it?” Brianna took a deep breath, fought for calm. “What good does it do not to? I’ll help Lottie with the tea.”
“You’ll stay where you are.” Mouth grim, Maeve angled her head. “You should thank God on your knees for the life you lead, my girl. You’ve a roof over your head and money in your pocket. It may be I don’t like how you earn it, but you’ve made some small success out of your choice in what many would consider an honest living. Do you think a man and babies can replace that? Well, you’re wrong if you do.”
“Maeve, what are you badgering the girl about now?” Wearily Lottie came in and set down the tea tray.
“Stay out of this, Lottie.”
“Please.” Coolly, calmly, Brianna inclined her head. “Let her finish.”
“Finish I will. I had something once I could call mine. And I lost it." Maeve’s mouth trembled once, but she firmed it, hardened it. “Lost any chance I had to be what I’d wanted to be. Lust and nothing more, the sin of it. With a baby in my belly what could I be but some man’s wife?”
“My father’s wife,” Brianna said slowly.
“So I was. I conceived a child in sin and paid for it my whole life.”
“You conceived two children,” Brianna reminded her.
“Aye, I did. The first, your sister, carried that mark with her. Wild she was and will always be. But you were a child of marriage and duty.”
“Duty?”
With her hands planted on either arm of her chair, Maeve leaned forward, and her voice was bitter. “Do you think I wanted him to touch me again? Do you think I enjoyed being reminded why I would never have my heart’s desire? But the Church says marriage should produce children. So I did my duty by the Church and let him plant another child in me.”
“Duty,” Brianna repeated, and the tears she might have shed were frozen in her heart. “With no love, no pleasure. Is that what I came from?”
“There was no need to share my bed with him when I knew I carried you. I suffered another labor, another birth, and thanked God it would be my last.”
“You never shared a bed with him. All those years.”
“There would be no more children. With you I had done what I could to absolve my sin. You don’t have Maggie’s wildness. There’s a coolness in you, a control. You’ll use that to keep yourself pure—unless you let some man tempt you. It was nearly so with Rory.”
“I loved Rory.” She hated knowing she was so near tears. For her father, she thought, and the woman he had loved and let go.
“You were a child.” Maeve dismissed the heartbreak of youth. “But you’re a woman now, and pretty enough to draw a man’s eye. I want you to remember what can happen if you let them persuade you to give in. The one upstairs, he’ll come and he’ll go as he pleases. Forget that, and you could end up alone, with a baby growing under your apron and shame in your heart.”
“So often I wondered why there was no love in this house.” Brianna took in a shuddering breath and struggled to steady her voice. “I knew you didn’t love Da, couldn’t somehow. It hurt me to know it. But then when I learned from Maggie about your singing, your career, and how you’d lost that, I thought I understood, and could sympathize for the pain you must have felt.”
“You could never know what it is to lose all you’ve ever wanted.”
“No, I can’t. But neither can I understand a woman, any woman, having no love in her heart for the children she carried and birthed.” She lifted her hands to her cheeks. But they weren’t wet. Dry and cold they were, like marble against her fingers. “Always you’ve blamed Maggie for simply being born. Now I see I was nothing more than a duty to you, a sort of penance for an earlier sin.”
“I raised you with care,” Maeve began.
“With care. No, it’s true you never raised your hand to me the way you did with Maggie. It’s a miracle she didn’t grow to hate me for that alone. It was heat with her, and cold discipline with me. And it worked well, made us, I suppose, what we are.”
Very carefully she sat again, picked up her yarn. “I’ve wanted to love you. I used to ask myself why it was I could never give you more than loyalty and duty. Now I see it wasn’t the lack in me, but in you.”
“Brianna.” Appalled, and deeply shaken, Maeve got to her feet. “How can you say such things to me? I’ve only tried to spare you, to protect you.”
“I’ve no need of protection. I’m alone, aren’t I, and a virgin, just as you wish it. I’m knitting a blanket for another woman’s child as I’ve done before, and will do again. I have my business, as you say. Nothing has changed here, Mother, but for an easing of my conscience. I’ll give you no less than I’ve always given you, only I’ll stop berating myself for not giving more.”
Dry-eyed again, she looked up. “Will you pour the tea, Lottie? I want to tell you about the vacation you and Mother will be taking soon. Have you been to France?”
“No.” Lottie swallowed the lump in her throat. Her heart bled for both the women. She sent a look of sorrow toward Maeve, knowing no way to comfort. With a sigh she poured the tea. “No,” she repeated. “I’ve not been there. Are we going, then?”
“Yes, indeed.” Brianna picked up the rhythm of her knitting. “Very soon if you like. I’ll be talking to Maggie about it tomorrow.” She read the sympathy in Lottie’s eyes and made herself smile. “You’ll have to go shopping for a bikini.”
