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He always thought it would be Merrick.
Of course, it wasn’t for lack of trying on Merrick’s part. Rumor had it that he was sending flowers the second George made the separation more formal, not even waiting for a full divorce. No, despite George’s vehement and vociferous accusations, Bertha’s sights were not set on Alfred Merrick. George, in hindsight, wasn’t sure who she had in mind when the separation crystallized into a full divorce. However, after a respectable amount of time following the sudden death of Mrs. de Lancey, it was no secret that the former Mrs. George Russell was likely to be the new Mrs. Franklin de Lancey.
And last night’s ball in Newport proved just how happy she was about it.
In truth, George had no intention of going. However, Marian insisted to Larry which meant Larry insisted to George. Plus, there were a few concerning reports in the paper that needed remedying by a highly public appearance. So, there he was, on the outskirts of someone’s ballroom, watching his wife be happier than she’d been in years. Her eyes practically sparkled as de Lancey twirled her around the room, and her countenance warmed every time he brought her a drink or took her empty glass or simply stood at her side. She was so polite, kind even, when she greeted George. There was no venom, no evidence of heartache, just a woman whose past was behind her and whose future looked bright and golden. God, even the de Lancey girl seemed to adore Bertha. Probably because she saw Gladys’ marriage and had aspirations for something similar. Bertha would get her that. Bertha could do anything.
Meanwhile, George was useless without her. How silly of him for ever thinking she was George Russell’s wife when it was evident that he was Bertha Russell’s husband. He was made for her, and now he was unmoored, alone, pointless.
George frowned at the room. There was nothing for him here (or anywhere really). He walked out to the gardens and only stopped when he heard two familiar voices from the other side of a neatly manicured hedge wall.
“So, do you know when he intends to propose?” Gladys asked excitedly.
Bertha let out a fond chuckle. “Mr. de Lancey says he has something in mind, and that’s all I’m getting out of him. He can be a bit of a romantic when he wants to be.”
“A good sign, I think.”
Bertha paused and answered pensively, “Yes. It is.”
They were silent for a moment and George held his breath, desperate to hear more even though each word left cuts all over his bruised heart.
“May I confess something?” Gladys hesitantly asked.
“Of course, love. What is it?”
“I wasn’t predisposed to like your Mr. de Lancey. In truth, I hoped he’d be like that Merrick fellow. Rumor has it he’s a bit of a cad and a show off, and if Mr. de Lancey was like that, I’d have just cause to dislike him. But, when I see you with him and how he is with you, he’s won me over entirely.“
“Oh? What turned the tide? I know you inherited my stubbornness.”
Gladys laughed. “I did, didn’t I? Well, I suppose it helped at first to see how well you’ve become since your courtship. He’s made you noticeably happier. But I think, it was some comment or something he said at dinner, I forget the words or the context, but it was something that showed me how much he respected and admired you. He appreciates you like Hector appreciates me.”
George dug his nails into his palm, almost wishing he could slice his hands entirely. His was supposed to be the marriage of mutual respect and appreciation and admiration. Not the marriage that he’d fought tooth and nail until Bertha made it impossible. Not the impending marriage between Bertha and someone who wasn’t him. The more he saw just how much he ruined, the more he wanted to just slice his wrists entirely and be done with it.
“I’m glad you see it.” Bertha replied to her daughter, “You know, the very first time we ever spoke, he confessed that he thought I was more interesting than Hector. He is, well, he never leaves me in doubt. He’s quiet, reserved I suppose is the more flattering way to put it, but he isn’t dull. You know, there’s a lot of potential in the shipping area of his business that I think could be developed quite nicely if it’s all carefully managed. There are a few wives in my circle whose husbands would be most interested in what Mr. de Lancey might offer.”
George closed his eyes. She spoke with the same excitement she used to use for his railroads. Of course she did. Her mind was never more at peace than when it was plotting to use her world to advance the cogs of commerce. His pride had blinded him beyond comprehension and he was now seeing just how great his loss was.
“Oh I’m sure,” Gladys said with a chuckle. “And what of Martha? Do you have any grand plans for her?”
Bertha sighed. “Only if she asks for my help. I have no desire to be Mrs. de Lancey’s replacement in that department. That said, will I make sure whomever Martha chooses is a decent man who can give her a comfortable life? Of course. But, Franklin has already insisted that he wants to watch his grandchildren grow up on this side of the Atlantic, and I have no desire to begrudge him that, especially after everything with his wife. Besides, and don’t tell Martha or Mr. de Lancey that I said this, a man worthy of you is a much rarer creature than a man worthy of Martha.”
George could hear a quiet rustle of fabric, followed by a kiss muffled by hair.
“I promise I won’t tell them. And thank you for finding me such a rare creature, even though it took me some time to appreciate it.”
“Children seldom appreciate their mother’s gifts at the onset. I’m merely grateful you’ve now found your joy.”
“And I am just as pleased you’re about to find yours again.”
“Thank you, my dear. That means more than you could ever know.”
George wanted to walk away, but when he looked down, he saw his coat got snared on some thorns. He grimaced, trying to tug it away, but then the leaves began to rustle and he gave up. Well, he just had to wait for them to leave. Surely it wouldn’t be much longer.
“Mrs. Russell, your grace, am I interrupting something?”
If George wasn’t forced into silence, he would’ve groaned in frustration. Of course this is when that de Lancey bastard would come over. Why the hell not? That about summed up how things were going at the present moment.
“No,” Gladys answered, “actually I was going to bid my mother a good night and go find Hector. I’m afraid country life has gotten me out of practice with these balls.”
De Lancey laughed. “Has it?”
“I’m afraid so. It’s all for the best, though. I’ve found the work of maintaining and restoring Sidmouth to be much more to my liking. Maybe you’ll have occasion to see it for yourself?”
There was a pause. George couldn’t see anything, but he just knew he was giving her a knowing smile. When was the last time the two of them looked at each other that way? Bertha always went on about how he was the favored parent, but look how far that’s gotten him.
“Maybe. I’ll leave that up to your mother.”
“A wise course of action, I’ve found.”
He laughed again, fucking prick.
“Indeed. Well, if you’re leaving, I suppose I shall bid you good night. Goodnight, Duchess.”
George could hear the shuffling of feet and Gladys’ beautiful laughter in return. “Oh my goodness, you don’t have to do all that. I’m a duchess not a princess. Thank you, Mr. de Lancey. And tell Martha I said good night as well.”
“I will, your grace,” De Lancey called back as George heard him take a seat where Gladys must’ve just been sitting. George would normally say his life had become a kind of hell, but this was far more than average.
There were a few beats of merciful silence, then the sound of a soft kiss. Part of George wanted to just surge through the bushes himself. Those were his lips to kiss, his woman to love.
Except it wasn’t, and it wasn’t even her choice. His folly, now followed by his punishment.
“God, normally by now George would be halfway to ravishing me on this bench.”
“Do you want that?”
Of course she does. That’s what she’s always wanted.
“I can’t say I do. I did, but not anymore. God, I’m sorry, alone in the garden and I still manage to bring him up.”
“Shh shh shh, it’s fine. Bertha, how many times have you listened to me talk about Mary? Many, many times. And yet, you’re still here, perhaps beyond all reason but here all the same.”
“Yes, but that’s different. Mary—“
“Just because one lives and the other has passed away does not mean we don’t both mourn. All I’m saying is, you’ve shown me grace regarding Mary, and I intend to do the same when it comes to George. It’s only fair.”
“You’re a rarity for thinking that way, Franklin. Most men wouldn’t take so kindly to a woman talking so much about her ex-husband.”
“Perhaps, but a man would have to be a rarity in order to be worthy of you.”
Bertha snorted, “Sure. It’s a rare man who would want a divorcee with far too many ambitions and a barren womb. I’m a realist, Mr. de Lancey, I know that I have very little appeal in that department.”
“I wish you didn’t think so little of yourself,” De Lancey softly countered.
“I don’t know why you think so highly of me.”
There was another pause, and George was reeling. “Talking so much about her ex-husband” how many times did he come up? How often did she think of him? Why did she think she wasn’t the most incredible woman to walk the face of the earth when she so clearly was?
His stomach sank as he answered his own question. At the time, he was just so jealous of the way she swanned from success to success as he nearly lost the entire Russell fortune. Every ounce of confidence he’d ever built up was starting to crumble while she was on top of the world, and he’d grown to despise how divergent their paths had become. He let resentment fester until it eroded everything good they ever had.
And yet, even then, his opinion mattered so much to her that he was far too effective at dragging her down to his depths.
“Well, then I shall tell you why I do in the hopes that you start to see things from my point of view.”
This was the exact punishment George deserved for his utter idiocy.
“You’re smart as a whip, not to mention cunning and creative and determined. My dear Bertha, just a few short years prior, the Russell name meant little at all. Of course, George built the fortune, but you made it into something that brought you not just into the four hundred, but at its head. What you did in a matter of years is something families aspire to for generations. You’re a force of nature, and the fact that you could not run a company is a mercy to us men, because you’d have us all beat. On a more personal level, the way that I’ve seen you love your children and your devotion to them is something I deeply admire. You’re loyal. You never begrudge me my love of my first wife. And yes, perhaps you’re a bit ruthless, but I confess I find myself liking it more and more when I see the way you wield it. Oh, to hell with it, I had something planned, but I think this is better.”
There was a pause and a shuffling of fabric, and the last of George’s heart was ripped out as Franklin de Lancey spoke again.
“My darling Bertha, will you marry me?”
There was a tremble in Bertha’s voice as she answered, “Yes. I never thought I would— god yes, Franklin. Now get back up here so I can properly kiss you. I won’t let you tempt me to ruin this gown in the dirt.”
He got back up and George could feel his hands start to visibly tremble as he heard them kiss much more passionately than before.
“Gladys will be pleased.” Bertha breathlessly said when their lips parted.
“That’s good. I imagine your son may be a bit more… resistant.”
“Don’t take it personally. He still holds me at fault for the divorce. For months, he thought I was lying outright when I told him that George brought the suit against me. It wasn’t until he saw it splashed all over the papers that he accepted I was telling the truth all along. So now he thinks that I made the marriage so untenable that George was forced to file.”
“I hope you know that isn’t true.”
“Except it is, Franklin.”
“A man isn’t forced into infidelity, Bertha. That was a choice he made.”
Bertha let out a morbid laugh. “Well, that wasn’t real. They never actually, he paid her to say what needed to be said to secure the divorce. I hired a Pinkerton and they managed to get a confession from her in writing. I was so close to using it in the case when I realized that the truth didn’t change the fact that George still paid her to do that. He didn’t want me, and forcing a man to stay when he had no desire to do so would only,” Bertha sniffled, “it would have just given him more cause to despise me, and I was so… it’s rather exhausting being someone’s eternal villain.”
“I’m sorry he hurt you so. You never deserved it.”
Bertha scoffed, “You don’t know—“
“You didn’t. Even if you were a harpy and a shrew, there is no world where such cruelty is deserved, and you cannot change my mind. At any rate, I’m pleased that Gladys approves of our union, and I won’t take Larry’s displeasure personally. If it makes you feel any better, Martha will very much be pleased.”
Bertha’s voice lit up. “Will she?”
“Oh yes. I think she thought she was being subtle, but you know how young people can be. A lot of ‘mother would want you to be happy’ and comments about how neatly you run a house and could entertain business associates. She holds you in high regard.”
“Oh,” Bertha responded with far too much surprise in her voice.
“As do I, my love, and I plan to spend all my days proving that to you. How about this, we’ll have our children over for luncheon tomorrow and tell them then. Larry can have his little tiff, and Gladys and Martha can pepper you with questions about the wedding.”
Bertha laughed. “I don’t plan to do much. We’ll be hard pressed to find a minister who’ll agree to hold the ceremony as it is.”
“Well, whatever you want is what I want. If there is anything I can do to help, I do hope you’ll ask.”
The pair finally got up as Bertha replied, “Of course. Thank you, Franklin.” They continued chatting as their voices faded and George tore his coat from the bush. After a few discordant rips, it broke free, but all George could do was sink down into the ground. He’d lost her for good now. There was no chance of true reconciliation. She was never coming back. He was useless without her, and now he always would be.