Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Lydia was so very cold.
The pond looked just as she remembered it, albeit in the dark now, speckled with raindrops. She recalled just how she had felt the first time she had come here, brokenhearted and abandoned.
Then, she had been prepared to do anything to make the pain stop. Her thoughts had been so chaotic, so wild, that she had not felt as though there could be any option other than walking deeper into the bitter cold.
Now, of course, she knew better. No matter how upset she felt, she would never submit to those urges again. Still, she understood how her younger self could have come to that conclusion.
The mulch squelched under her feet as she took another step forward, feeling as though if she were to see her reflection in the surface of the water, it would be her former self looking out at her.
She shivered, wrapping her cloak more firmly around herself.
Coming here had been like taking a path into the past, but she couldn’t stay here for long.
Just long enough to remind herself of what had been—Alexander and his kindness; Alexander and his young love for Helena—before she made her way back to the house and back home…
Just as she had all those years ago…
Time stood still as she watched the surface of the water freckle with the rain, and she remembered what had been. And she let herself cry.
Branches clawed at Alexander’s clothes as he charged through the undergrowth. The gardener had given him very approximate directions to the pond, and if it weren’t for the lantern in his hand—in imminent danger of being put out by the rain—he would have lost the path long ago.
Perhaps, a decade ago, the path would have been clearer for a little girl to follow as she fled her pain.
Or perhaps it had been as cruel to her as it was being to him now.
He tasted rainwater. His heart pounded in his chest, his legs, his extremities. The ache that suffused him spoke of danger.
He didn’t want to think of what would happen if he got there too late. If she had decided there was nothing left to save.
That would be the end of him. He knew that there and now as he ran toward her. If she ended her life, so would it end his. He had survived the loss of Helena and the future he had craved with her, but that loss would be nothing compared to losing Lydia.
She was his wife. He needed her. He loved her.
Against all odds, he put on a burst of speed, emerging from the treeline into a small clearing, where there was a pond.
And beside it, still dressed in her ballroom finery, was Lydia.
Relief flooded his bones immensely. His darling, sweetest, most wonderful Lydia. Alive and whole. Staring into the surface of the water as though it were a crystal ball revealing her future.
Or as though the water called to her the way it must have done the first time he ever saw her.
“Lydia!” Her name ripped from his lips, and he felt as though his heart went with it. “Lydia, stop. Wait! What are you doing?”
Miss? his former self whispered in his ear. What are you doing, miss?
So much time had passed since then, but the question was the same.
“Alexander?” She looked up in shock, her hair dark and bedraggled by the rain, her face too pale in his lanternlight. “What are you doing here—”
“Are you mad?!” He strode to her, knee deep into the dark, freezing water, catching her shoulders and pulling her against him, rough in his relief, his hands shaking. “I-I thought something awful must have happened. I thought for certain, when I realized you were here, that—”
Her hands, pressed against his chest, shifted. She shuddered against his warmth, and he realized anew how cold she must be. “You… thought what?”
“You.” The word tore from him, raw and desperate. He pulled back just enough to see her face, one hand coming up to cup her cheek. “All this time—Lydia, it was you… The girl by the pond. The girl I pulled from the water.” His voice broke. “The girl I promised everything would be well.”
Her eyes went wide, lips parting in a chill.
“I remembered…” he breathed, his thumb brushing across her rain-soaked cheek.
“I finally remembered. And when I couldn't find you, when I realized you might have come back here—” His grip on her tightened, almost painful.
“God, Lydia, I thought history was repeating itself. I thought I would find you in the water again, and this time I would be too late.”
A sob broke from her throat, and suddenly she was crying in earnest, her hands fisting in his wet shirt. “You remember me,” she choked out.
“How could I forget?” His own voice was thick with unshed tears.
“That girl—you—you were so afraid, so lost. And I held you, and I promised you everything would be all right. I promised…” He pressed his forehead to hers, his breath ragged.
“And then I failed you. I married you and abandoned you, just as broken as you were that… that night.”
“Alexander…”
“No.” He shook his head, fingers threading through her wet hair.
“Let me say this. I saved you once, and then I abandoned you. I took you from your home, gave you my name, and walked away. What kind of man does that? What kind of man makes a promise to a frightened girl and then breaks it the moment he becomes responsible for the woman she grew into?”
A sob tore from her throat—raw and broken. “You didn't remember me,” she choked out, and the words nearly brought him to his knees. “All this time, I thought I had been nothing to you...”
“You were never!” The anguish in his voice made her chest ache.
“I should have known. Those eyes—your eyes—I should have known. And instead I left you here, alone and grieving, just as I found you all those years ago.” His hands trembled against her face.
“When I realized where you must have gone tonight, I—” His voice broke entirely.
“I wasn't going to…”
“How could you think, now that I have discovered happiness, that I would throw it all away?!”
Her brows came together, and her eyes searched his. “I-I don't understand.”
“What can I say to make you understand? You must be freezing. Come with me. I'll take you home.”
She pulled free from his grasp. “What do you mean, Alexander?”
“I mean, I would never have left if I had the chance!” he cried. “If you tell me to go, that is one thing, but I could not leave you alone. Lydia, do you know what you mean to me?”
“I,” she whispered, and he noted with concern that her lips were blue. Without thinking, he bent and captured her mouth with his own.
In that single kiss, he sought to convey everything he felt, all the confused and overwhelming and messy emotions in his chest. How relieved he was she was here; how angry he was that she had put herself in danger; how foolish she was to think he could ever voluntarily leave her!
How much he needed her…
After a moment, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
Urgently, fervently, and he thought he felt some of what he offered her reflected back at him again.
How relieved she was he had come after her; that he cared for her just as deeply; that she was hurting and he could put an end to her pain.
He broke away before he wanted to, spurred by the chill of her skin. “We—we must get you somewhere dry,” he shuddered in the chill, passing a hand over her wet curls. “Y-you are frozen. Then we can talk.”
Her fingers found his chin, tilting his head back to her. “You came after me…” she whispered, still half-wondering, as though that had ever been in question.
He caught her wrist, holding on tight. “The moment I knew you were gone. I thought you went home, but when I couldn’t find you, I came back.
I will always come back for you, Lydia. You have given me light when I thought my life would always have none.
You gave me hope. I was a dead man walking when I found you.
” He bent so his nose brushed hers. “And now I’m alive.
Whatever else happens, that will be true. So long as I don’t lose you forever…”
She nodded, pressing both hands to his cheeks and kissing him one last time, her lips hungry. “I… I thought I already said goodbye,” she exhaled as she released him.
“You will never need to say goodbye.” Bending, he scooped her into his arms, the lantern dangling from one of his hands, and strode back through the undergrowth in the direction of the house. Lady Harrogate would send them back with a carriage.
“This is what I ought to have done that first time,” he growled. “I should have walked back with you and spoken to your father directly.”
She shivered, curling up against his chest, her face pressed against his neck as though she sought to sink into his warmth. “You did more than you needed.”
“And yet still less than I should have.”
“Y-you pulled me from the water.” She sniffled. “I’ll never forget the way you embraced me.” After a hesitation, she added, “Nor the way Helena helped me.”
For once, the mention of her name did nothing to unsettle him.
There was no deep ache of loss in his chest, or a sense that he had missed out on the future he so desperately wanted.
Her death had been a tragedy, and perhaps if it hadn’t happened, it would have been happy.
But it had happened, and in ruining him, it had given him all the tools to be whole again.
Because of it, he had met Lydia again, and he could never regret that.
“She was kind,” he said, and felt nothing at that statement, either.
She was kind. And her memory would forever be cherished. But it would never replace his wife.
“You must miss her,” Lydia sighed.
His arms tightened around her. “With you here in my life? I could never wish anything was different.” At least, he didn’t wish that she were anywhere but in his life. He did, however, wish that he had not re-entered her life for such a devastating reason.
Still, he would be telling her everything this night, and from there, she could decide what was to be done. Until then, he would treasure every moment he got to hold her in his arms.
Finally, the house came into sight, and he entered a side door so as to avoid the bulk of the ballroom and its guests.
“You can put me down,” Lydia said, her arms wrapped around his neck.
He knew what he could do. But he merely held her tighter. “Not yet. You’re still cold.”
“Alexander, I can—”
“Lydia.”
Her breath whistled from between her teeth as she capitulated, settling against his chest once again. He felt the steady rise and fall of her breasts, and it steadied his own breathing, his own panic.
Lady Harrogate entered the room in a swirl of skirts. “Lydia! What in heavens did you do?!”
“I went for a rather foolhardy walk…” She pushed against his shoulders, and reluctantly, he let her down. “I meant nothing by it, and I’m sorry for worrying you all. I-I just needed some time to think.”
“I’ll take her home,” Alexander assured the other lady. “And I’ll make sure she is all right. In the meantime, do you have a blanket?” He unhooked the cloak from around her neck, holding it aloft as it dripped across the tiled floor. “And a hot brick for the carriage.”
“Of course! I’ll call for your carriage immediately.” Lady Harrogate hurried to the door and called for assistance, stating her needs. The butler went to deal with it, and she came back to Lydia, cupping her hand in both of her own.
“I think you may have been mistaken in him,” she said in a low tone, so quiet Alexander almost couldn’t hear her. “Keep an open mind, dearest.”
“I will,” Lydia murmured back, but another shiver racked her body, and Alexander couldn’t bear it.
He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and holding her against his chest. When the blankets arrived, he wrapped them all around her shoulders, leaving none for himself.
He felt fine, and his concern was for his wife alone.
If after all this, she caught a chill and fell ill, then—
No, he wouldn’t think it. Not anymore.
“You can stay, you know,” Lady Harrogate said.
“No,” Alexander rejected the kind offer immediately. “We have… much to discuss tonight.”
Lydia gave Lady Harrogate a long look, then nodded. “I think he is right… We do.”
“Well, the carriage is here.” Lady Harrogate sighed. “Look after her, Your Grace.”
“There is no need to fret, Marie.” Lydia squeezed her friend’s hands. “I’ll be quite all right. And I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. Again, I’m sorry.”
He hoped she wouldn’t, but a lady needed her friends; he knew that much now. She needed more than merely a house to live in—she needed a home. And acceptance.
After years and years of running, he had finally begun to realize that he did, too.