His hands balled into fists as he tried to maintain his composure. “I needed time,” he pressed out through clenched teeth, desperately trying to force the pain back into the abyss he had banished it to the day Kenneth had died.
“Time?” Charlotte echoed, her eyes void of emotion. “I only came here tonight because I needed to see you. I needed to know. I could not go to Elmridge, a place where we had all been together before.” Her voice broke, and she shook her head vehemently as though expecting him to contradict her. “I couldn’t have come. I would have expected to see him there. I…”
Frederick took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I wasn’t ready to face you yet.”
Fixing him with a defiant stare, she challenged him, “Are you now?”
Frederick met her eyes and then nodded. “I don’t believe I have a choice,” he said. “You have a right to know.”
She closed her eyes then and turned back to the gardens shrouded in darkness at their feet. Resting her arms on the banister, she bowed her head. “Tell me then. How did it happen?”
Once more, Frederick unlocked the memories that pained him daily and braced himself to relive his friend’s final moments. Forcing himself to remain calm, he spoke with an even voice, explaining the situation they had found themselves in on the battlefield and the unexpectedness of Kenneth’s death.
Tears rolled freely down Charlotte’s cheeks, and she didn’t bother to brush them away. However, no sob escaped her lips, and Frederick marvelled at the strength that resided within her. She bore the loss of the man she loved with dignity and grace, and he felt selfishly grateful for not having to witness her breakdown as his words confirmed what her mind already knew: Kenneth would never return.
“Did he suffer?” she asked, her voice barely loud enough to reach his ears.
Frederick shook his head. “I do not believe so. It was…sudden.” He swallowed. “I don’t believe he realised what was happening.” He drew a deep breath, determined to set her heart and mind as much at ease as he possibly could. “I saw him…later…when…His face held no signs of pain or agony. He seemed at peace.”
Charlotte nodded before she raised her eyes to his. “Thank you for telling me. I am glad you were by his side when it happened.”
And yet, I couldn’t save him, Frederick thought.
Ignoring his own demons, he stepped forward and took her hands. “He cared for you deeply. He told me so every day,” he whispered, watching new tears spill over and run down her cheeks. “More than anything, he wanted to return to you. Nothing but death could have ever kept him from your side.”
At his words, Charlotte closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, a hint of determination shone in their hazel depth. She took a deep breath and withdrew her hands, once again wringing the handkerchief that had already caught too many of her tears. “Thank you for telling me this,” she said, her eyes shifting past his shoulder. “I need to go.”
Frederick nodded. “Be well, Charlotte. Should you ever need anything, do not hesitate to call on me.”
“I will,” she said, then swallowed and walked back to the terrace doors where her mother met her and escorted her back inside.
“Are you all right?” Oliver asked, coming up to stand beside him. “You look like hell.”
A snort escaped his lips, and Frederick shook his head. “You have no idea. I’ve been in hell ever since it happened. Coming home, I thought maybe I could somehow leave it all behind, but…” Again, he shook his head. “Somehow it is worse. I’m thinking about going back.”
“Going back?” Oliver gasped. Grabbing his friend by the shoulders, he looked deep into his eyes. “Talk to me, Rick. What is going on?”
Shrugging off the hands that held him, Frederick stepped back. “This world is not mine anymore. I don’t know how to…be here anymore.” Raking his hands though his hair, he closed his eyes. “I feel like I am going insane.”
“You cannot go back,” Oliver proclaimed, the tone in his voice not allowing for an argument. “I know you. With all this pain haunting you, you’d recklessly throw yourself into danger.” Determined, he shook his head. “No, you’d never come home.”
Frederick sighed. “Maybe that would be for the better.”
Oliver stared at him with wide eyes. “You cannot mean this.”
“I can, and I do.” Turning around, Frederick headed back inside. However, before the door closed behind him, he heard Oliver saying, “I will talk to your brother about this. Together, we will find a way to help you. I’m not giving up on you, Rick.”
Sighing, Frederick closed the door, knowing that there was nothing they could do.
Chapter Six − The Weight of Pain
The exuberant joy that hung about the ballroom radiated by the many couples dancing and laughing, enjoying the music, the drinks and the late hour, felt like a slap in the face to Frederick.
After speaking to Charlotte and watching her heart break into a million pieces, he looked at the world around him, and the madness began to rise once more. As the blood in his veins started to boil and pulse, Frederick gritted his teeth, willing himself to remain calm. How could such opposites exist in the same world? The misery and terror of the battlefield as well as the joy and ease of a night of dancing? How was this possible?
Hurrying over to the refreshment table, Frederick reached for something stronger than a glass of punch. He knew he was trapped in this place; however, he would do whatever necessary to ease the pain that rested in his bones, in his soul, in the very core of his being. And to hell with everyone who disapproved!
***
Standing in a corner of the large room, half-hidden behind stately artefacts, Ellie watched him gulp down one drink after another. Something had happened out on the terrace; she was sure of it. Something awful. Something that had crushed his spirit.
When his brother had ushered him outside, he had looked relieved to be escaping the throng of people vying for his attention. However, the moment he had reappeared, she had been able to tell that a heavy burden had come to rest on his shoulders, a burden as torturous as any she could imagine.
Could it have something to do with the young woman who had gone to see him?
From what Ellie had been able to observe, they had spoken to each other privately. Her face, too, had seemed flushed when she had re-entered the ballroom at her mother’s side. However, the look in her eyes had not held the same agony she now glimpsed in Frederick’s.
Wringing her hands, Ellie knew that it was none of her business. And yet, she desperately wished to know what had transpired between them. Were they in love? Had it been a lovers’ quarrel?
Ellie bit her lip as the thought brought on a small sting in her heart. She was surprised at how deeply she cared for him even though it had been years since they had last spoken to each other. How could she care for someone she didn’t even know? Or had Madeline been right? Did people not change at their core? Could he possibly be the same man she had met all those years ago?
***
Slowly, the music faded away as did the laughing couples. The lights dimmed, and Frederick felt himself relax his hold on the glass in his hand. How many had he had? He couldn’t remember. Enough to be given a reprieve from the agony twisting his heart.
He sighed and poured himself another drink.
“Are you out of your mind?” a voice snapped next to his shoulder, and Frederick winced as its loud pitch pierced the fog numbing his pain.
Slowly, he turned his head and found his brother glaring at him. “Come again?” Frederick queried, wishing with all his might that Leopold would just walk away and leave him alone.
Of course, he didn’t.
“I spoke to Oliver,” Leopold growled. Then his eyes swept over Frederick, and a disgusted frown came to his face. “Drinking your pain away?” he asked in a softer tone.
“Unfortunately, that’s not possible,” Frederick mumbled, once more downing the contents
of his glass. “However, I am willing to give it my utmost.”
Ripping the empty glass from his brother’s hands, Leopold slammed it onto the table. “Frederick, you need to come to your senses. This is not you. I had hoped that speaking to Charlotte would allow you to put all this behind you.”
Frederick’s eyes snapped open. “You told her I would be here? Is that why you insisted I attend?”
“I apologise for the deception,” Leopold said, his eyes dark with sadness. “However, I did not know what else to do. I can see how much losing Kenneth tortures you, but you have to find a way to move on. I know that this is easy for me to say because I cannot even begin to understand what you went through,” he stepped forward and placed his hands on Frederick’s shoulders, “but it is the only way.”
Frederick closed his eyes, then took a step back and shook his head. “It is not the only way.”
“You cannot be serious!” Leopold snapped, and his eyes narrowed. “Going back will only get you killed. How does that help Kenneth?”
“It doesn’t,” Frederick stated, knowing that no matter what he said his brother could not understand how he felt. Yes, he missed Kenneth, and he felt guilty about his death. But that was not all of it. The world looked different now, and Frederick couldn’t bear to look at it. “However, it will end this pain.”
As Leopold continued to stare at him, disbelief showing in his eyes, a footman stopped be-side Frederick, a tray balanced on his hand. “For you, my lord.”
Without looking, Frederick took the offered drink, and the footman walked away. “I’m sorry, Leopold,” he said. “I know you mean well. But there is nothing you can do or say that will change my mind.” Giving his brother a sad smile, he lifted the glass to his lips.
“No!” Leopold snarled, determination shining in his eyes. “I don’t care what you say. You are my brother, and I will help you whether you like it or not.” Snatching the drink from Frederick’s grasp, he looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Go get some fresh air. We will talk about this later when your mind is not clouded by this poison.”
Frederick sighed. He had half a mind to argue his point but then decided against it. His brother meant well, and he deserved to be treated better than this.
Nodding his head, Frederick once more headed for the terrace.
***
Her heart beating in her chest, Ellie felt a low current run through her body as she watched the brothers’ heated exchange. She was glad to see how determined Leopold was to make his brother see reason. However, from the untouched mask on Frederick’s face, she could tell that he was fighting a losing battle.
When Frederick turned around and headed for the terrace, Leopold remained behind, defeated eyes following his brother’s retreating figure. And yet, she saw the tension in his jaw as his hand gripped the glass he had taken from him more tightly. His sinews stood out white, and for a moment, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Large strides carried Oliver to Leopold’s side then, and the two men spoke to each other in low voices. Occasionally, they would glance at Frederick’s silhouette standing on the terrace, not leaving any doubt in Ellie’s mind who they were talking about.
If only she could help! Ellie thought, knowing that such a wish was futile. After all, she didn’t even know the reason for Frederick’s pain. Nevertheless, she was relieved that he had family and friends who cared for him deeply and who would do everything within their power to help him.
Trying to glimpse Frederick’s face through the throng of people barring her view, Ellie’s head snapped sideways when a loud clatter reached her ears.
As her eyes once more searched the area around the refreshment table, the breath caught in her throat as she found Leopold lying on the floor, his face twisted in agony.
Oliver knelt by his side, his face white as a sheet. Then he looked up with frantic eyes. “Someone call a doctor!”
Everything happened as though time had slowed down, and yet, Ellie’s nerve endings felt like they were on fire, unable to keep up with the events before her eyes.
A scream tore from a woman’s throat, and the crowd instantly parted to allow her through. Eyes wide with terror, she sank to her knees beside Oliver, her hands gently touching Leopold’s ash-white face.
Ellie recognised her as the marquess’ wife.
Tears welled up in the woman’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she pleaded with her husband to look at her.
Leopold’s gaze, however, went past her, staring into the distance as his body contorted painfully. Now and then, his eyes would narrow as though he was determined to fight the spasms shaking his body, only to relax a moment later, staring at his wife, yet unseeing.
Ellie was frozen to the spot as were most of the attendees that night, trapped in a tragedy so forlorn that it broke her heart. Only when footsteps echoed from the terrace did Ellie’s head snap up, and her eyes fell on Frederick’s terror-stricken face as he beheld his brother lying on the floor.
Hurrying to his side, he dropped to his knees beside Oliver. “What happened?” Although Frederick did not yell, his voice carried to the far corners of the ballroom as it lay in shocked silence.
Oliver shook his head. “I don’t know. We just stood here, talking about…and then he suddenly dropped his glass and clutched his hands to his chest.”
“Leopold?” Frederick called. A hand on his brother’s shoulder, he gave it a gentle shake. “Can you hear me?” Tears welled up in his eyes when his brother didn’t respond, and Ellie felt the full weight of his pain as if it were her own.
Surrounded by the people who loved him, Leopold heaved a few more laboured breaths be-fore his body became still and his features relaxed as the pain left his body.
“No!” his wife cried, throwing her arms around him. “Please!”
Sitting on the floor, Frederick stared at his brother’s lifeless body and the woman clinging to the man she loved.
More than anything, Ellie wanted to avert her eyes, pretend that none of this had happened; however, the calm, unfeeling expression on Frederick’s face kept her gaze fixed upon him. What had just happened?
Only a moment before, she had seen terror on his face, fear and pain, but now, there was nothing there. It was as though he had somehow rid himself of the emotions that plagued him. His eyes became cold, heartless even, and when he rose from the floor, he moved like a man untouched by life’s influence.
The sight froze her heart, and she realised that Frederick’s pain went deeper than she had ever thought possible.
Although she knew how selfish her thoughts were considering a man had just lost his life, Ellie couldn’t help but wonder what would happen now.
Now, that his brother was dead, who would protect Frederick from himself?
Chapter Seven − A Mother’s Right
In keeping with the rhythmic drumming behind his temples, the rain pelted the windows to his father’s study. Although now, it was his. Frederick thought. It had been his for over six months. And yet, he felt as though he didn’t belong there as though he had taken it by unlawful means.
Wherever he looked, he would find himself reminded of the past, of his brother and father. Not sufficient time had passed for the wounds their loss had inflicted to heal so that the memories that rose to the surface were not of a pleasant nature. Frederick felt their loss acutely because he was now forced to shoulder the burden of the estate and the title that came with it.
Sighing, he leaned back in the large leather armchair and closed his eyes. Six months had passed since his brother’s passing, and Frederick couldn’t help but think that they would not recover from that loss.
While still mourning her husband, his mother had broken down at the news of her eldest son’s death. She had not been the same since then, walking the halls of Elmridge like a ghost. Physically present, her heart and mind seemed to have vanished, leaving her an empty shell. Although lately Frederick thought to have felt her eyes on him every now and then as
though she was watching him. A shiver went over him whenever it happened, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she saw when she looked at him.
Like his mother, Maryann was a mere shadow of herself. Witnessing her husband’s painful death, she still woke up screaming in the middle of the night, waking the whole house. His mother would comfort her then, for a moment leaving behind the detached stillness that hung over her soul, and ease the heart-breaking sobs that rose from Maryann’s throat.
For all intents and purposes, Elmridge had turned into a tomb, housing those unfit for life. Their hearts and souls haunted by loss and pain, they walked the halls alone, spending their days locked in their own misery. Frederick counted himself among them, knowing that his own eyes held the same weariness of life theirs did.
The only ray of sunshine that reached within the old stone walls was Mathilda. Although her heart felt the heavy weight of her father’s loss as well as her mother’s grief, her childish innocence saved her from losing herself to the same pain. Stealing outside whenever she could, she found playmates in the few servants’ children living on the estate. While her governess tended to her education, Mathilda’s wild spirit rebelled against anything that would force her to spend time indoors.
Before long, Frederick hardly caught a glimpse of her during the day, and he felt relief flood his heart. If she kept away from them, if she found a place where she could be happy, then maybe she would survive the curse that had so crippled their family.
A knock on the door startled Frederick, and he cleared his throat before calling, “Enter.”
The door swung open and revealed his mother standing in its frame. The ghost of a smile showed on her face as she looked at him.
Surprised to see her, Frederick rose to his feet and hastened toward her. Gesturing for her to sit, he asked, “Would you care for a refreshment?”
Taking a seat, she eyed the assortment of liquor on the side table apprehensively before shaking her head. “Thank you, but, no. I prefer to keep a clear mind.”