I could not take my leave soon enough.
Roz decided she'd have liked Mary Louise. And wondered if the Bobby Lee Berker she'd gone to high school with was a descendant.
Then she saw it, and her heart took a hard jump into her throat.
I have locked myself in my room. I will speak to no one. The humiliation I have been dealt is beyond bearing. For all these years I have been a dutiful wife, an exceptional hostess, I have overseen the staff of this house without complaint, and worked tirelessly to present the proper image for our societal equals and Reginald's business associates.
I have, as wives must, overlooked his private affairs, satisfied that he was always discreet.
Now this.
He arrived home this evening and requested that I come to the library so he could speak to me privately. He told me he had impregnated one of his mistresses. This is not a conversation that should take place between husband and wife, and when this was my response, he brushed it aside as if it was no matter.
As if I am no matter.
I am told that I will be required to create the illusion that I am expecting. I am told that if this creature delivers a son, it will be brought into our home, it will be given the Harper name and raised here. As his son. As my son.
If it is a girl, it will be of no matter. I will have another "miscarriage" and that will be that.
I refused. Of course I refused. To take a whore's child into my home.
Then he gave me this choice. Accept his decision, or he would divorce me. One way or the other, he will have a son. He prefers that I remain his wife, that neither of us are exposed to the scandal of divorce, and he will compensate me well for this one thing. If I refuse, it will be divorce and shame, and I will be sent away from the home I have cared for, the life I have made.
So there is no choice.
I pray that this slatern delivers a girl child. I pray it dies. That she dies. That they all burn in Hell.
Roz's hands shook. Though she wanted to read on, she stood first, walked to the terrace doors. She needed air. With the book in her hand, she stood outside, breathing in the early morning.
What kind of man had this been? To have forced his illegitimate son on his wife. Even if he hadn't loved her, he should have respected her.
And what love could he have had for the child, to have subjected him to a woman who would never, could never, care for him as a mother? Who would always resent him? Even despise him?
And all to carry on the Harper name.
"Roz?"
She didn't turn when she heard Mitch's voice behind her. "I woke you. I thought I was quiet. "
"You were. You just weren't there. "
"I found something. I started reading through some of the journals. I found something. "
"Whatever it is, it's upset you. "
"I'm sad, and I'm angry. And I'm surprised that I'm not surprised. I found an entry . . . No, you should read it for yourself. " She turned now, held the book out, open to where she'd stopped. "Take it into the sitting room. I just need another minute here. "
"All right. " He took the book, then, because there was something in her eyes that pulled at his heart, he cupped her chin in his free hand and kissed her softly.
She turned back to the view, to the grounds and the gardens going silver with oncoming dawn. The home that had been her family's for generations. Had it been worth it? she wondered. Had the pain and humiliation one man had caused been worth holding this ground under one name?
She walked back in, sat across from Mitch. "Is this where you stopped?" he asked her.
"I needed to absorb it, I guess. How cruel he was to her. She wasn't an admirable woman, not from what I've read in her own diaries. Selfish, self-absorbed, petty. But she deserved better than this. You haven't given me a son, so I'll get one elsewhere. Accept it, or leave. She accepted. "
"You don't know that yet. "
"We know. " She shook her head. "We'll read the rest, but we know. "