Chapter 3

It took so long for James to answer her knocking that she wasn't sure he was even in the flat. She was ready to turn around and go home when he finally opened the door. His slightly alarmed look when he saw her face almost did make her turn around, but she remembered her father's injunction to be strong and she stood her ground instead.

"Helen, I..." James began, clearing his throat and turning red. "I didn't expect to see you so soon. Let alone here. Did you want... I mean... will you come in?"

"Do you mind? I... I was hoping we could talk," she explained, fidgeting nervously.

At her words, he suddenly looked as nervous as she felt. But it didn't stop him from politely ushering her inside and pouring her a glass of wine from the bottle on the table. It could have been a perfectly normal interaction between them, except that the silence was tense instead of comfortable as it usually was. It was good wine, as she would have expected from James, but the first sip turned her stomach and she pushed the glass aside.

"Nauseous?" he asked with a frown, hovering instead of returning to his seat. He'd obviously been at the table reading when she knocked. The book was still laying open next to his half-empty glass of wine. Judging from the level of the bottle, it had not been his first.

"Father says it will pass. He's given me something in the meantime."

"I hope it helps. Let me make you some mint tea instead of that wine. Perhaps some toast, as well."

"Thank you, but you don't need to dote," she assured him with a weak smile. "But, James, we must talk."

He swallowed hard at her words, returning to his seat. "Helen, if this is about the offer I made..."

"A maid found the ring, James. She showed it to Father."

"Oh, dear," he whispered, clearing his throat and staring down at the table. "I... I'm sorry. I had meant to keep the matter between you and I. I should never have thrown away the ring in one of your rubbish bins. The last thing I intended was for your father to find out what I offered. Helen, I can't apologize enough!"

"I know you didn't do it on purpose, James. It was a lapse on your part, but I can't believe it was an intentional one."

"I was... upset when I left you last night. Not thinking clearly. I just wanted to be rid of the damned thing."

She hesitated, swallowing hard. "If I had known you were serious, I would never have laughed. I'm sorry, James. I didn't know."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. The truth is that I had no right to ask you. You're in such a vulnerable position. Trying to force any kind of decision at all would be to take advantage of your grief. You must forgive me."

"Do you regret asking, then?"

He was silent for so long that she thought he might not answer. Then he sighed. "Yes, and no."

She bit her lip at that unexpected piece of honesty. "Does... does the offer remain?"

"It... is not rescinded," he told her finally. "I fear that fact puts you in an uncomfortable position."

"Oh?"

"You've been talking to your father. I can well imagine that he wants to see you quickly and quietly married. Your own desires may not matter much to a member of his generation."

"I... He thinks we should marry without delay. He thinks it's the only way."

"And what do you think?"

"I wouldn't mind the shame, if it were mine alone."

"But, of course, you have other considerations now?"

"How can I condemn my own child to such an existence?"

"The child might be sent away, to live free of the cloud cast by its parentage."

She clutched her stomach at that, staring at him with wide eyes. "You think I should give it to strangers to raise?"

James bit his lip at that, sighing and shaking his head. "Clearly, you feel too strongly for that to be an option. Unfortunately, that doesn't leave you with many other choices. I'm sorry, Helen."

"You're sorry?"

"I know I would not be your first choice. I might as well be holding you at gunpoint with my offer. You don't love me; I know that. It's not fair that you should be forced into deciding between your child's future and your own in this way."

"A lot of things aren't fair, James. How can I marry you, knowing I'll make you miserable?"

He looked up quickly at that, eyes wide. "Is that what you think? Helen..."

"You deserve to marry someone you can have a real relationship with. What can I possibly offer you?"

"I... Your friendship, for one. An intellect to challenge my own. Did I mention your friendship?" he asked gently, leaning across the table and reaching for her hand. "Helen, I'm not deceived by what a marriage with you would and would not offer. My eyes are open, and yours should be as well. It would not be ideal, but it wouldn't have to be horrible, either. I could not promise you much, but I could promise never to make demands upon your person, or to restrict your liberties. You'd have my friendship and my respect, always, and that's far better than many can claim from marriage."

"You're biased. Your parents hated each other."

"I'm not sure I'd go so far as to call it hatred, but it certainly wasn't anything resembling love for one another," he answered, shrugging. "Do you think I'd be a terrible husband because I never saw my parents in accord?"

"No, but I think it means that you're willing to settle for much less than you deserve. James, logic tells me I should accept your offer, but my regard for you tells me that I shouldn't. I would feel as if I were using you. I'm not sure how I could live with myself."

"Easily, I should think. You can't use a man who offers himself freely. I'm asking you for more than a pretty little flirt who thinks she loves me madly could possibly give. I'll never be happy with a wife who's not also an intellectual equal, a true companion. Where else could I find such a woman? Why would I even wish to look further than you?"

"There's more to a good marriage than simple friendship. There's..." She trailed off, clearing her throat. "Well, I'm sure a man your age knows what a true marriage entails."

"Sexual desire fades, yet good marriages endure and remain friendly despite that. Why should it matter so much if there's no desire from the start?" he asked quietly, staring down at their linked hands instead of looking at her as he spoke.

She swallowed hard at that answer, not sure how she felt about the idea of a marriage without physical relations. She supposed she should feel relieved that he wouldn't insist on asserting his rights as a husband. But his words made her feel lonely, too, as she imagined a life without hugs and kisses, caresses and embraces. She supposed she could learn to live without sex, as she always had before meeting John, but a life without affection...

Not that it was her own life that mattered any more.

"You'd protect the child? Claim it as your own?"

"Of course. Considering its parents, I already love it as if it were my own anyway."

"You're kinder than I deserve."

"You deserve so much more than this life can now ever give you. The least I can do is ease your way a bit. If you let me marry you, I promise to be a good husband and, more importantly, a good friend. You'll never regret it. I'll see to that."

"But will you regret it?"

"I don't see how I could. Do you... do you have the ring?" he asked gently, holding out his hand, palm up.

"James, you don't have to do this," she whispered, placing the box in his hand and closing his fingers around it. "You aren't obligated. You don't owe me this."

"No. I'm not obligated," he agreed, clutching the box for a moment before snapping it open. "I do this of my own free will. Helen Magnus, will you marry me?" he whispered, reaching for her hand.

She swallowed hard, chest painful as she slid her hand into his and whispered, trying not to sound as broken as she felt, "I'll do my best to be a good wife. I hope I can learn to make you happy."

"You won't find me demanding in that regard," he promised tenderly, slipping the simple ring onto her finger. He could have afforded one far fancier, but the simple elegance of the band was more his style. More hers, too. And, somehow, it seemed less of a mockery than a more elaborate one might have. "As long as we remain friends, I'll be content."

She smiled weakly, nodding and staring down at the ring resting where John's had not too long ago. "Father says we should marry at once," she told him quietly, stomach twisting a bit. He seemed so willing, but she still felt terrible about forcing him into this.

"He's correct. I've given the timing some thought. There's no way for the baby to be mistaken for mine if we stay in London. But, if we remove to my family's country estate for a year and a half or a little longer, its actual age will be less apparent by the time we return to London. A few months that would have made all the difference won't even be noticed."

"Clever," she answered, smiling weakly. "But I'll miss London."

"You'll miss London less when you see the library," he assured her, expression encouraging, and full of hope. "So many books, and so little time to peruse them all in. You'll want to take half the collection away with us when we return to London again..."

She bit her lips, not so much at his words as at his hopeful demeanour as he delivered them. He wanted her to be happy, so much so that it must hurt him to know that she would not be.

Fingering the ring on her finger, she tried for casual conversation with, "A country estate in Wales must be quite a step up from a two-room flat in the heart of London?"

"Well, it's what I'm used to, if nothing else. I used to spend every summer holiday there, whether my parents were in the country or not. It's a lovely old place. I think you'll enjoy it," he answered quietly, staring down at her hand where it rested on the table. "Helen, are you at peace with this decision?" he asked abruptly. "I know your father is forcing your hand, but I couldn't live with myself if you were unhappy."

"I've made what peace I can. And I am grateful to you."

"Grateful?" he repeated, biting his lip. Clearing his throat after a moment, he declared, "Yes, I suppose gratitude is better than the reaction I might have were I in your situation."

She frowned a bit at his horribly conflicted expression, stomach twisting uncomfortably. "James?"

"I would be angry, were I you. Furious at being forced to marry against my inclinations. It's a relief that you don't hate me for my offer." Looking down again, he added, "I may not be able to give you the things that you hoped for, but I can at least ensure you and your child a good life. I'll take care of you both, as far as you allow me to. All I seek is your happiness. All I've ever sought was your happiness."

"You're such a good friend, James. You're giving up so much for me. I truly don't know how to thank you."

"It's not your thanks that I seek. I'll be amply rewarded when I see you and your baby, happy and thriving together," he told her with a faint smile. Biting his lip with a hopeful smile, he reached for her hand, covering it with his own.

She had to smile at his words, despite himself. Marriage with James was not ideal, but it might still be for the best. He would be a good father, even to a child that was not his own. He might also prove to be a good husband, even if theirs was not to be a proper marriage. Somehow, that thought was scarier than the idea that she might be neglected and abused for the rest of her life.

Part of her wasn't sure she deserved a happy ending after everything. Her experiment had turned the gentle John Druitt into a killer. Her lack of restraint had led to her pregnancy by the monster he'd become. She'd managed, thus far, not to become a monster herself, but who knew what the future held? Who knew what might happen to James or Nigel? Or to poor Nikola who always teetered on the brink, constantly fighting his hunger for blood? Who knew whether her child would escape the taint which had doomed its father? She might be carrying a monster in her belly even now. All of James's best intentions might prove futile for ensuring a decent future for the baby.

"Don't. Don't cry," he soothed, almost before her tears started again.

He was on his feet with his arms around her in an instant, and she turned in her chair, burying her face in his stomach and sobbing. He didn't ask her again not to cry, just held her close and let her work some of the pain and shame and anger out of her system.

She wept in his arms for what felt like hours. Exhausted in the aftermath, she was only vaguely aware of him half-carrying her into the other room and laying her down in his own bed. A blanket was pulled over her body, and his lips pressed gently against her forehead. She was surrounded by his scent, and aware of his lingering presence despite her closed eyes and his silence. Comforted by the proximity of a friend the way she hadn't been by that of her father earlier, she feel into a deep, dreamless sleep.