“We thought September the 28th would be fine,” Theresa reminded her, an amused smile playing on her lips. “Two weeks after the Midnight Ball.”
“Yes,” Ellie said, rising to her feet. “I’ll ask him.” Excusing herself, she turned to the door, hoping that neither woman would notice the slight skip in her step. At the mere prospect of seeing her husband, her limbs seemed to be unable to remain calm and allow for a graceful exit.
“Take your time,” Theresa called after her before the door closed.
Drawing in a deep breath, Ellie hastened down the corridor, crossed the grand foyer and approached her husband’s study in record time, her heart racing in her chest. Before knocking on the door, though, she took a few calming breaths, feeling suddenly shy at the thought of him seeing her excitement.
Hearing his voice bidding her to enter, Ellie clenched and unclenched her hands, willing them to stop trembling. Then she opened the door, and the moment her eyes met his, all air was knocked from her lungs.
To her great pleasure, Frederick stared at her with the same childish delight she felt in her own heart, the paper in his hand long forgotten. Before long he swallowed and cleared his throat. “Is there anything I can do for you…Elsbeth?” he asked, returning the paper to his desk and coming toward her.
A glorious tingle surged through her body at hearing her name on his lips, and a deep smile came to her own. Unable to bear the distance between them any longer, Ellie closed the door behind her and approached him. “I came to speak to you about the tea party?” she said, hoping her voice did not sound as unsteady as it felt. “We agreed that the 28th would be perfect.”
A frown drew down his eyebrows, and for a moment, Ellie feared that something was wrong. “Tea party?” he asked. “What tea party?”
Eyeing him curiously, Ellie took another step forward. “The tea party for Maryann.” When the confused expression on his face did not clear, Ellie laughed. “They came to speak to you about it yesterday. Do you not remember?”
For a moment, his eyes widened as though the suitable memory had come to him at last. However, a second later, he averted his eyes and cleared his throat as though embarrassed.
“Is something wrong?” Ellie asked. “Is there a problem? Have you changed your mind?”
“No, no.” He shook his head, hands suddenly linked behind his back. “The 28th is fine.”
Narrowing her eyes, Ellie looked at the slightly flustered expression on his face. “You really do not remember that they came to talk to you about that?”
“Well, I…” He swallowed, his hands gesturing futilely. “I was distracted,” he finally admit-ted. Returning to his desk, he shuffled through the papers before him, moving them from one side to the other and back again.
“Distracted?” Rounding the desk, she came to stand before him. “What distracted you?”
Straightening, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he turned to her and met her enquiring gaze. A soft smile curled up his lips as he spoke, “You.”
Ellie’s eyes opened wide. “Me?” A delicious warmth spread through her body, and she swallowed as his eyes burned into hers. “But I…I wasn’t even in the room. How could I have…?” Her voice trailed off when realisation dawned and she finally understood just how she could have posed as a distraction even in her absence.
“You were still on my mind, though,” he admitted somewhat sheepishly, confirming the line of her thinking. “I admit I did not hear a word they said.”
Once again, butterflies took flight in her belly, and Ellie would have loved nothing more than to dance around the room in his arms. However, the hint of apprehension, almost hidden in the corners of his eyes, told her that he was not ready for such displays of affection. So instead, Ellie smiled at him, her hands once more coming to rest on his chest as though they belonged there. “I myself experienced a similar inattention only this morning,” she confessed, feeling his heart jump against her palms at her open words. “Your mother had to remind me of the date we had agreed on for I honestly could not recall it.”
A soft laugh left his lips and fell onto her own. “I have never experienced anything like it.”
Ellie smiled, holding his gaze. “Nor I.”
Chapter Thirty-Five – A Truth Felt
A few days later, her hand gently brushed down his arm as she stepped by him and followed his mother into the front parlour. Despite the layers of fabric, his whole body froze at the soft touch, its echo pulsing into every region of his being. Staring after her until the door closed and erased her from sight, Frederick forgot the world around him.
Moments passed, and still he remained rooted to the spot, hypnotised by sensations he had thought himself incapable of.
Over the past few weeks, his life had changed considerably, and yet, he did not know how to feel about it. On the one hand, he delighted in the love he shared with his wife. Yes, after days of denial, he had finally admitted to himself−although not yet to her−that he was in love. How she had breached his defences; he still didn’t know. However, her gentle, yet insistent love had awakened his cold soul. Long forgotten desires soared to the surface of his being, demanding to be heard, and despite his own insistence, he was unable to stay away from her.
The nights they spent in each other’s arms, shrouded in darkness. In these moments, Frederick could pretend that his past did not matter, that he was free to love and be loved in return for she knew who he was. With her, he held nothing back, sharing not only the scars on his body but also those edged into his soul.
And despite the doubts he initially had, she understood. She did not judge or pity him. She simply listened, and she cared.
Her gentle touch was like a balm for his soul, soothing the many cuts it had suffered. Not since before he had left for the war had Frederick felt this alive.
However, despite everything he felt during the night, the sun rose every morning, bringing with it the guilt and pain that the dark had so effectively hidden. A part of him wondered if it was the loss of her touch that brought back his doubts, for whenever they would come upon each other during the day, the magic of the night would return. A mesmerising smile on her lips, she would come to him, her hands brushing over his arm or taking his hand in hers. Her fingers would skim over his cheek before her arms would come around him, and he would feel whole again, all doubt banished by the love that shone in her eyes.
The most rational part of his mind that remained undisturbed by the guilt he felt in his heart reminded him day in and day out that Kenneth’s death was not his fault; there had been nothing he could have done to save him, the same was true for his father and brother. His heart, however, could not be swayed. Deep down, he felt guilty, and no matter what he did or what he told himself, the feeling would not leave. It was there when he woke, and it was there when he went to bed. Sometimes, he could make himself forget or ignore it, but it never ceased to be.
One afternoon, Frederick sat in his study, his face buried in his hands. His head throbbed, and his heart ached. All day he had spent wading knee-deep through the issues that arose from a large estate such as Elmridge. Tenant quarrels had taken up most of his time, delaying the paper-work that needed to be completed. Minute by minute, the lightness that had carried him through the early morning had vanished, making room for the dark thoughts that always lingered nearby.
More than anything, he felt deficient. Unlike him, his father and brother had single-handedly run the estate with a smile on their faces. The anger that sometimes rose in his heart had never overtaken them. They had been strong while he was weak.
Not his brother, but he, Frederick, should have died that night of the Midnight Ball.
Stomping around the room and tearing at his hair, Frederick felt tempted to punch the wall or to throw the decanter through the window and hear the glass shatter. Dark thoughts, destructive thoughts entered his mind, and his limbs trembled with the effort to hold himself in check.
A knock sounded on the doo
r, and an agonising growl rose from deep in his throat for Frederick knew that his nerves were close to snapping, and he feared for anyone in his presence when that happened.
When his wife entered, it was like a punch in the gut, and Frederick nearly toppled over. He stumbled backward to put as much distance between them as possible until his back hit the wall.
The second her gaze came to rest upon his face, the smile died on her lips and she froze. Her eyes narrowed, searching his own as though hoping to find an explanation for his erratic behaviour.
“Leave!” he hissed wringing his hands, not knowing what else to do with them. It had been only a matter of time before he would lose his mind. Although the last few weeks had lulled him into a false sense of security, Frederick had always known that.
“What happened?” she asked, coming toward him.
Frederick shook his head, backing away. “Don’t!” Stepping behind his desk, he pointed to the door. “Leave!”
For a long moment, she looked at him, the blue in her eyes deepening, before she slowly shook her head.
“Please!” he pleaded, his fingers curling around the backrest of his chair, their sinews standing out white. “I do not wish to hurt you.”
A soft smile came to her lips then, and she approached him, coming to stand on the other side of his desk. “You won’t.”
The certainty he heard in her voice he did not feel in his heart, and so he raked his mind for some way to make her leave. “Get out!” he snarled. “I don’t want you here!”
Instead of the shock he had hoped to see on her face, her eyes merely narrowed. Squaring her shoulders, she stood up tall and met his gaze, her own as unwavering as his. “What is your problem?” she asked, and her voice sounded cold.
Stunned, Frederick stared at her.
She scoffed then and shook her head at him. “I am tired of this. You are the marquess now, and you need to find a way to handle your issues without succumbing to your guilt.” She exhaled loudly, sounding impatient. “What bothers you today? Is it your friend? Or your brother?”
Still staring at her, Frederick couldn’t believe his ears.
“Speak!” she snapped, annoyance hardening her voice even more.
“How dare you?” he snarled, leaning forward and bracing his hands on the desk. “You know nothing of the burdens I carry!”
His wife laughed. “Forgive me, my lord,” she mocked, “but the scars you bear do not even begin to compare to mine.” Her lips pressed into a tight line, she glared at him. “All your life, you’ve had it easy. The second son, freed from all responsibility, and yet, you only saw yourself as deprived of the honour bestowed upon your brother. And then you had to play soldier!” She shook her head, a hint of disgust in her eyes.
His blood rushing in his ears, Frederick rounded the desk, a snarl contorting his face. “What would you know of being a soldier?” he growled. “You have never experienced such hell!”
“Hell?” she asked. “What hell? Nothing happened to you! A few cuts and bruises and you demand the pity of everyone around you?” A snarl on her lips, she shook her head. “No, that right is not yours to claim. Instead, it was your friend who died a hero. He gave his life to save yours, and you let him!”
Feeling her words like blows to his body, Frederick groaned in agony. Panting for breath, he stared at her. “Why would you speak to me like this?” he barked. “I did not let him!”
“From what your mother told me,” his wife continued, her voice as cold as ice, “your relationship has never been one of equals. He followed you wherever you led. You knew that! You knew he would give his life for you, and yet, you insisted he accompany you.”
“I didn’t!” Frederick growled. “I merely informed him of my decision. He was the one who offered. It was his decision!”
His wife sneered at him. “It was not, and you know it! You know as well as I do that nothing could have kept him from your side. He even abandoned his own fiancée, the woman he loved, to follow you on this childish quest! And now, he is dead, and she is alone, heart-broken; the man she loved is gone forever.” His wife shrugged, and the derision he saw in her eyes knocked the breath from his lungs. “But you’re alive. Better him than you, isn’t that what you think? You’re glad that he is dead, that you could return home to safety, to your family and the title that now is yours. You have finally gotten everything you’ve ever wanted!”
His jaw clenched painfully, and his hands balled into fists. Panting under his breath, he stared at his wife as rage surged through his heart. All the dark thoughts and emotions he had sup-pressed for so long poured out of him and rose to the surface of his being. His muscles tensed, strained to the point of breaking. “You will not speak of him!” he roared, feeling his pulse thudding in his neck, and without conscious thought, his hands shot forward and grabbed his wife by the arms, holding her in an iron grip. Lowering his face to hers, he snarled, “You know nothing of Kenneth! Don’t you dare speak of him again!”
Oblivious to everything around him, Frederick’s head snapped up when the door suddenly opened. Their eyes wide and faces pale, his mother and Maryann rushed into the room, staring at him in open shock. “What is going on?” his mother gasped, her eyes shifting to his wife. “What are you doing? Release her! Now!”
“Out!” Frederick bellowed. “This does not concern you!”
“But−” his mother began to object before his wife silenced her. “Leave us,” she whispered, her eyes, however, remained on his, their depth fixing him with an icy stare.
After a moment of hesitation, his mother and Maryann retreated. The door closed, and he was alone with his wife once more.
“Like a shadow, he followed you wherever you went,” she hissed and raised her chin, her arms straining against the tight grip of his hands. “You took him for granted and repaid his kindness and devotion with indifference. You did not care whether he lived or died so long as you were safe, so long as he kept you safe.”
The tip of his nose touched hers as he snarled at her through clenched teeth. “I would have given my life for him!”
“Then why didn’t you?” she demanded. “Why didn’t you save him?”
“Because I couldn’t!” Before he had formed a conscious thought, the words flew out of his mouth and echoed in his heart, releasing the pain he had hidden from since the day Kenneth had died. “I couldn’t,” he repeated as though to himself. “He was gone before I even knew what was happening.” Swallowing, he closed his eyes as grief slowly swept through his body.
“It was not your fault.” Like a soft melody, his wife’s voice touched his broken heart, and he opened his eyes, finding her own full of love and compassion. “You loved him,” she whispered, “and I know you would have given your life for him.” A sad smile curled up her lips, and she lifted her hands, placing them on his chest where they belonged. “It’s what you do for a brother.”
As his eyes swept her face and he finally felt the truth of her words in his heart, his hands loosened their hold on her arms. His muscles hurt from the unbearable burden that he had carried with him for so long, the burden that was slowly growing lighter. Gently, he drew her against him, resting his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.
“It is always easier to give your own life,” his wife whispered, her soft breath brushing over his lips, “than to lose someone you love and go on without them.” She inhaled deeply, and a faint shiver went through her. “I know my brother would have felt guilty had I died saving his life, and yet, I never would have wanted him to,” she lifted her head and placed a hand under his chin to make him look at her, “because what happened to me that day was not as bad as losing him would have been.” Tears stood in her eyes. “I know that I got the easier end of the bargain. My brother is alive and well while Kenneth is not.” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “But I need you to believe right now that it was not your fault. We all make our own decisions, and even if Kenneth’s motivation to join the army stemmed from his d
eep desire to protect you, it was still his decision. He knew that he could not live with himself if he didn’t do everything within his power to assure that you would return home safely.” Gently, her hand cupped his face. “Your pain would have been his, and he didn’t want that. Just as you would never have blamed him for staying home, you must not blame yourself for him going with you. You are not responsible for the fate of the world, not even for that of your own small world.”
Frederick nodded, and for the first time, it was not his mind he felt agree with her words. Yes, her reasoning was rational and made absolute sense, and yet, the words she spoke did not matter because in that moment Frederick was listening with his heart.
A lightness spread through him that he remembered from innocent days of his childhood, and although grief flooded his heart, still as fresh and painful as it had been the day of his greatest loss, he did not mind it. Kenneth was gone, and so were his father and brother; however, the love he had for them remained. He felt it in the grief that echoed in his heart and brought tears to his eyes, and despite the agony that shook his body, he welcomed it because without grief it was as though love had never been. Only love led to grief, and so the pain that brought him to his knees was a testament to the love he felt for them.
Clinging to his wife, he wept, not ashamed of his tears because he knew that they were the means to a new beginning. He had spent the past two years locked away in misery, his inability to cope with the loss he had suffered casting dark shadows over his entire family. They, too, had suffered, but no more.
He would cry for the ones he had lost, and he would remember them, but he would not join them. He would walk through life with a smile on his face and the woman he loved by his side.
Feeling her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, he smiled as tears continued to roll down his cheeks and onto her already soaked sleeve. “I love you,” he whispered, grateful beyond words that she had come into his life.