“No, we're going to talk.”
Alarm spiked through her body, fear tingling down her spine. “No, thank you.” She firmly extricated herself, but he reached out and grabbed her again.
“I’ve been watching you, the lady toff who comes down here and ruins honest men’s lives.”
Ellen’s jaw dropped in outrage. “You arsehole. You are completely at fault for everything bad that’s happened in your life. Now let me go!”
She jerked away, but he caught her fast. O’Malley twisted her arms behind her, just like Mark had done to him.
A whimper escaped her clenched jaw as pain radiated up her arm. “What are you doing?”
“Teaching you a lesson.” O’Malley’s breath was thick and foul with beer as he leaned in. “Lady toffs don’t belong down here in the rookeries. My life was fine before you gave Tina all sorts of ideas. So I’m going to take care of you.”
Fear petrified her, locking her knees when he tried to yank her down the alley. It didn’t stop him, though, he just dragged her through the mud.
“Help!” Ellen screamed, but no one could hear over the pounding noise of the rain.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mark was by nature a careful, meticulous man. But something about Ellen made an impulsive side emerge. Instead of fuming over the argument and unfair accusations Ellen had made, he took a train to Oxford that day for research.
He walked through the market town, reminiscing, until he came to Wadham College. The pale yellow brick and the arched windows drew him back to one of the happiest times of his life. Shouts of students filled the air as a few raced with their black robes flapping behind them, clearly late for class. A small omnibus rattled past, the four mules pulling the red bus plodding on the cobblestoned street. All in all, between his townhouse and Wadham College, it took three hours to reach Wadham. Too long to travel every day, certainly.
Mark spoke to the porter and gained entrance to the green quad. Taking a deep breath, Mark walked around. The scent of freshly cut grass filled his nostrils, and he could just faintly make out the sound of heavy, thudding doors and scraping benches and desks inside through open windows. He had no real purpose—he certainly didn’t expect Professor Duncap to see him. He wasn’tsure Edward had time between tutoring, either, and Mark didn’t know where his rooms were anyway.
“Are there many married fellows?” Mark asked the porter after he made a loop.
The grizzled old man shrugged, heavy keys jangling in his hands. “They made married housing out back about ten years ago, when they allowed Fellows to wed for the first time.”
Mark wondered if he would be at a disadvantage, perhaps seen as not so serious a scholar, if he brought a pregnant wife with him.But Ellen isn’t coming with me, he remembered. She’d made that very clear. Anger and hurt made his heart hard. He took a couple of hours walking around, listening to Wadham staff gossip while oiling window hinges and two department professors mutter to one another about research deadlines as they strode across the yard.
Three handsome and obviously hungover young men—boys—stumbled arm-in-arm across the yard. As they passed by Mark, one boy’s bloodshot eyes met his. Then he gagged and hunched, vomiting on the grass. Mark jerked his closest foot away, grimacing. “Grow up, man!”
The three staggered off without any further acknowledgement.
The porter shook his head. “Rich arseholes, drunk as a lord.” He ducked back into his box for cleaning supplies.
I bet half the class would be just like them—indolent sons of gentlemen who prefer to carouse through Oxford.Mark scowled at them.Do they not understand the history within these walls? The great discoveries, the scholarship?But no, they didn’t care. Mark could already see himself stuck tutoring three or four of them at a time.
He knew that if he lectured here he’d have to publish his Greek myths storybook under a pseudonym. No one would take his scholarship seriously if he was seen as soft-minded by focusing on children, but also radical for writing for children of all classes.
After bidding the porter farewell, Mark slipped inside androamed the common areas, soaking in the sounds and smells. It smelled like happiness—or, no, it smelled like the memory of happiness. Nostalgia, perhaps.
Clicking shoes on stone came behind him. Two tutors, around his age, walked by in street clothes with their black robes draped over their arms. They laughed, talking about the rowing tournaments coming up in the spring. Scuffed shoes peeked from beneath sturdy wool trousers, and the elbows of their jackets were worn.
Though he could count on his eight hundred a year from his brother, that fell when considering he’d need to pay for two households—one in Oxford, one in London for Ellen. She might have her yearly allowance, nearly double his, but he doubted she’d stop spending it on medical resources. And he didn’t expect her to.
His heart twisted inside his chest, a pang mixed with hurt and love. Mark shook his head, refusing to think about it.
I’ll come up for lectures regularly,he told himself,to get to know it better, to see all the best parts of this life.
He left, without searching out Edward or the professor, and caught the last train back to London, his research complete. Mark arrived after sunset and braved the cold February rain to go home. He entered his house as the grandfather clock in the foyer chimed six.
“Oh, you’re home.” Gaye pursed his lips. He was not used to his employers running around Central England at the drop of a hat. “Did Mrs. Glenfall not return with you?”
“No...I told the footman to escort her home.”
Gaye’s bushy eyebrows knit together. “He went to the dispensary, but she wasn’t there. He waited, then returned. We assumed you’d chosen to meet her there instead.”