The Chilbury Ladies' Choir(86)

“It’s not your fault, Kitty,” she said, putting her arm around my shoulders. “Henry should take responsibility for his own actions, although it probably wasn’t helpful of you to tell him. The scene was monstrous. It was too much for her in the end.”

I began crying, trying not to, of course. Poor Mrs. Tilling has so much to deal with at the moment, and I’m sure she doesn’t need some infuriating tattletale girl crying on her shoulder, but each time I stopped, there was another wave behind it, waiting to surge to the front and break apart, as if my entire life had been a series of horrors waiting to be released.

Mrs. Tilling stroked my back. “We all need to remember that you’re young, with so much to learn in life. Henry should never have led you to think he might marry you, but there’s a lot more to it than that. Your mama should have talked to you about Venetia’s pregnancy, rather than pretending that nothing was happening. Venetia should never have deceived him into proposing. Your father should not have put so much pressure on Venetia to accept Henry. Henry should not have hit her. Slater should not have disappeared, leaving Venetia so heartbroken. It’s all a mess. You shouldn’t bear the whole of it on your own shoulders.”

“But why does Henry love her when he could love me? I’m the one who wants to marry him. Why can’t people love other people who love them back? Why is everyone in love with the wrong person?”

“Kitty, look at me,” she said, and I raised my bleary face from my arms. “Being a grown-up is a tough thing. We can’t choose who we fall in love with, or who falls in love with us. Whatever happens in your life, Kitty, you need to remember that you can’t change the way someone feels about you. Love is a terribly odd emotion, and can have very little to do with common sense. Sometimes it’s a cozy, comfortable feeling, like tucking yourself up in a lovely warm blanket, but other times it just washes over you completely, and you simply can’t help yourself.” She paused for a moment, dwelling on something, and then snapped out of it. “I’m sure that Henry loves you like a sister, but he feels a very different kind of love toward Venetia.”

“But I know what it feels like to be in love,” I wailed. “Don’t tell me that what I feel isn’t real!”

“It is real, Kitty.” She put her arm around my shoulders. “It’s very real.”

I cried and cried, because I had ruined everything, because Venetia would hate me, and because Henry would never love me now. He was out of my life forever.

“You’ll find someone new,” Mrs. Tilling said.

“No.” I shook my head. “I’ll never find anyone else. Not like Henry. No one else is as handsome and funny, and looks at me in the way he does. When he’s here it’s like the sun comes out and everything bad in me, everything bad in the village, the country, the world, is not evil after all. Then it’s perfect and wonderful and heavenly.” I opened my mouth for air before howling into my hands. “And it’s not going to be heavenly anymore. He’s gone, and everything bad is always there and will never be taken away.”

Long after Mrs. Tilling went to the surgery, I remained seated at the table. But by the middle of the afternoon I decided I needed to get out, and so I set out in no particular direction. As I was walking, I found myself going home. I had a nagging need to speak to Venetia. The closer I got the more adamant I became that this was what I had to do. I needed to apologize to her.

But would she ever forgive me?

As I opened the side door, I realized that I’d been forgetting my main opponent. My father. He’d kill me if he saw me. All the pent-up rage he had for his darling Venetia would be taken out on me. After all, I’m the youngest, the least able to stand up to him, the one he habitually takes it out on. Why break the pattern of a lifetime? That hurricane of violent retribution would pound me until there was nothing left but the oozing silence of a crushed soul.

I shuddered with fear as I crept over to the back stairs. The house was still, the hallway echoing with the mismatched tocks of the grandfather clock. I slid soundlessly up the back stairs and knocked cautiously on Venetia’s door. It was opened by Mrs. Tilling, who had gone straight over after morning surgery.

“Kitty,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“I have to talk to Venetia.”

“But what if your father sees you?” she said anxiously, pulling me inside the dark room.

“I have to see Venetia.” I looked around me. The curtains were drawn tight, and only a small bedside lamp—Venetia’s purple one—shed a bruised light around the room. The place was cleared of the usual debris, the discarded clothes, the spilled perfume bottles, the books and the jewelry boxes. Even the dressing table was orderly, sterilized for a new tomorrow.

Venetia stirred in the bed. Mrs. Tilling went to her side and explained that I was there, and she would make some tea for us.

“Please let her wake slowly,” she said to me. “And remember what’s happened, Kitty. You are not foremost in her mind at the moment, so don’t get upset if she’s angry with you.”

I stood where I was for a few minutes after Mrs. Tilling had left.

“Come and sit down, Kitty,” a weak voice mumbled from the bed.

I went and sat down.

“Venetia, I’m very sorry. I can’t tell you how bad I feel about it. I know how wrong it was of me. I know now, you don’t need to tell me. I know that Henry was in love with you, and I understand that you meant the best for everyone. I know it all now, but I didn’t yesterday. I’m so sorry.”