Cora’s eyes took on a faraway look. “But your mother welcomed me in. Treated me like one of her own. I adored it. But she was firm when she needed to be. Louisa was a lot like you, when she was little. Your mother insisted she spend some time outdoors and with others. In time she grew to enjoy it.”
“She’s still more on the quiet side,” Regina admitted, “But she handles social gatherings far better than I do. Everyone talks about how sweet she is.”
“That’s thanks to your mother. Bridget could have been like Natalie or Elizabeth had your mother let her. A flirt or too sharp of tongue, she had the potential for both inside of her, you know.
“But then when Natalie and Elizabeth came along… I think it was a little too much. Two daughters already. Then two more. All close in age.
“And your mother wasn’t always in the best health. Her death of pneumonia from a rainstorm? That was horrible. But not unexpected. If everyone caught cold, she caught it the worst. In the summer she would get red itchy eyes and sneeze constantly.
“I think each pregnancy was harder than the last. I know that after you were born she was laid up for some time. Some time after she had recovered I overheard her talking to my mother. Your mother admitted she could not have any other children.
“Not that she didn’t want more. Or that she was incapable of getting pregnant again. But if she were to get pregnant, it would kill her. It might also kill the baby. She couldn’t risk that.
“And so I think that she got indulgent with Natalie and Elizabeth. Perhaps with you as well. She was tired and had the household and the children. A governess helps a lot but it’s no complete substitute for a mother.
“As a result, Elizabeth and Natalie got a bit spoiled. Your father was the worst culprit. You spent most of your time inside, I recall. You were a voracious reader. I was not surprised when you said you still love to do it.”
Cora smiled at her fondly, and Regina found herself smiling back. “I am glad that you told me of her. My sisters hardly talk about our mother. When they do it’s as if she’s a saint.”
“She was a wonderful woman,” Cora said. “A saint in many ways. But not even saints are perfect. Parenting takes its toll.” Cora gave a small, rueful laugh. “Perhaps it is a good thing I shall never have children.”
“Can’t you marry a man and pretend?” Regina asked. “Many women marry men when they do not love them. And the other way around. Married men visit brothels and have affairs. Whether it’s with a housemaid or a lady.”
She had heard her sisters gossiping about such things. She had overheard things at balls as well. Lord and Lady Morrison would openly discuss various affairs they’d heard of when they visited.
Bridget was always trying to protect Regina from hearing such things but she had heard enough. She knew that quite a lot went on behind closed doors. And sometimes things went on when doors were still open.
“Perhaps if I were not such a stubborn woman,” Cora admitted. “Or if I possessed a meeker character. But I am quite stubborn. And I am far from meek. I could not submit to a husband. Not unless I loved him and knew he would treat me as an equal.
“Besides, I am a romantic. Perhaps it is my French blood. On my mother’s side. But I want to marry for love. Therefore, I’m afraid, marrying a man is right out for me.”
“You could go to the continent,” Regina pointed out. “There are plenty of places there that are more tolerant. Or at least where you could hide better.”
“I would like to go there someday,” Cora said. “In fact I should like to live out the rest of my life there.”
“Then why don’t you go?” Regina asked. “What is holding you back? Is it the woman they mentioned last night?”
She didn’t add that Aunt Jane had mentioned something of that sort as well. She had a feeling it would embarrass Cora. After all, it would certainly embarrass Regina if their roles were reversed. Regina wouldn’t want her private business known to people she’d never even met.
Cora closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she looked away. Into the fire.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I know that I’m a fool. I don’t need my friends to tell me that. But I should like to know how I am any more foolish than they are. A black man who lets himself be treated with ridicule to please his father. Because he loves his father. A woman who gives up a year of her life, and risks destroying her reputation, to be with a dying man. Because she loves him.
“They act for love. Why shouldn’t I? My pining is no more intense and no less foolish than their sins.”
“I wouldn’t say that acting for love is a sin,” Regina said.
Cora gave a soft, pained laugh. “We are all sinners when it comes to love,” she told her. “Because for love we will break all other vows. We will sacrifice all our principles.”
Regina opened her mouth to argue—and then closed it. Was she not sinning, in a way, for love? For her family, she was risking all.
“Is she married?” Regina asked. “Is that why you cannot be with her? Or does she not love you back?”
“She is not married,” Cora replied. She was still gazing into the fire. “And she did love me once. I do not know if she still does.”
“Then write to her. See if she will not run away with you.” Perhaps run away was a strong word. But still.
Cora shook her head. “She had responsibilities. Family obligations. I could not impose upon her. Especially now.”
“Surely everyone deserves the chance to seize their own happiness.”
Cora looked up at her. “You truly are a sweet girl,” she said. “I see your mother in you. But we can’t always be selfish. We must think of our families as well. We must think of our friends.
“This woman has had to think of her family. She has had to take care of them. I could not ask her to abandon them. Not when they have needed her so. Perhaps, if things changed… if several things changed… if she was no longer beholden to her family…”
Cora nodded. “Yes. If her family no longer needed her. If she would be free to live her life without hurting them. Then I would write her. I would ask her if she still felt for me as I felt for her. If the promises we made back then were still true.”
Regina could bear it no longer. Father, Bridget, Aunt Jane, Cora, Miss Eliza and Lord Mannis…
She burst out, “I don’t understand!”
Cora looked at her. She seemed genuinely confused. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I don’t understand,” Regina admitted. “This love that you all talk about. The love that made my father turn to gambling after my mother died. The love Bridget still has for her childhood sweetheart. The love Miss Eliza and Lord Mannis have. The way Aunt Jane talks.”
Cora had gone unusually pale about halfway through Regina’s little speech. Still, she nodded her head encouragingly when Regina paused.
“I have never felt what you all feel. And I don’t understand it. How can you be so willing to suffer for someone else? How can you cling to their memory so fiercely? How can one person bring you such happiness that you’re willing to risk such pain?”
Cora looked at her. She seemed puzzled. “Do you not feel that way for Harrison?”