Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Mother, please,” Iris’ older sister, Eveline begged. “Now is not the time.”
“Oh, I meant nothing by it,” Iris’ mother said with a dismissive waving of her hand. “And Iris knows this.”
“Regardless, now is not the time.”
“I am only trying to help!”
“I know that,” Eveline pressed. “But sometimes, Mother, your version of helping comes off as sounding like…” She let the implication sit between them.
“Sounding like what?” their mother snapped.
Eveline let her face drop. “Like gloating.”
“Gloating!” Their mother threw her hands in the air. “What I would like to know is since when did I become the villain here? Surely, such a title should be reserved for His Grace. He was the one who —”
“Mother!” Eveline cut her off. “Please! Now is not the time.”
The three of them were sitting together in the reading room, even if little reading was getting done.
It had been. Iris had sequestered herself in the cozy space earlier in the day, her intent to be alone so she might drown herself in books and put her mind to anything other than thinking about what had happened. And how much it still hurts me.
Typically, Iris’ mother had other ideas.
When Iris left Philip’s manor, she had chosen Eveline’s estate as her place to hide for a number of reasons.
The first was that it happened to be close by, only a few hours north and thus easy to reach.
The second was that Eveline and she had always been close, and she knew that Eveline of all people was not the type to judge, nor would she insist on doting on Iris as if that might make her feel better.
And the third and perhaps most important was that her mother would not be there. Or so she had thought.
Alas, their mother just happened to be visiting still and where last night Iris had been able to lock herself in her room and avoid her mother’s gloating, masking itself as concern, today she was not so lucky.
Thus, she sat silently on the couch. Eveline standing to her left. Her mother to her right. She had a book in hand, pretending to read it as her sister and mother continued to argue as if she were not there.
“I knew this would happen,” her mother continued, arms folded now. “I knew it—the facade His Grace put up, nothing more than a lie. He has always been a suspect character and this proves it.”
“Iris claims this was a mutual action,” Eveline shot back. “And besides, it does not matter who is at fault. All that matters is that it has happened and how Iris is feeling.”
“Of course it matters who is at fault! What will people say when they hear of this? In fact, we should work quickly to get our side of the events written in stone. So that when His Grace does decide to spread his own tale, nobody will believe him.”
“Mother, that is ridiculous.”
“It is not.” She gave her head a firm nod. “He is a proud man, His Grace. That was what led him to marry Iris in the first place…” She sighed and shook her head. “Which I knew was a bad move. But your brother…” She clicked her tongue. “Not that we can blame him. It is His Grace!”
“This is really not a conversation to be had now.”
“I suppose I have myself to blame also,” their mother continued. “I knew it was a bad idea to leave Iris alone in that house. If I had been there…” Her brow scrunched. “Well, perhaps this might have been averted. I should have known better than to leave as I did. What was I thinking.”
Iris was still pretending to read her book, but she had long since given up on the notion.
Rather, she listened to her mother’s words, anger growing inside of her by the second. And not that she was being spoken about as if she was not there, but what was being said.
Iris did not begrudge the duke for what had transpired.
She still held much of the blame, reasoning that in the end her actions were not the sole cause but a symptom of a greater problem.
Philip had never wanted to marry her, he had made this perfectly clear, but she had pursued and worn him down, thinking that in time he would change.
But there would be no changing him, and that was what Iris had come to accept. It hurt to do so, but that was simply the reality. They were never going to work.
As to her anger? That grew as she was forced to listen to her mother’s extreme revising of events. As if she had known all along. As if she had not been the one to force this marriage upon her. And as if Iris was little more than a helpless child in need of her mother’s care.
“She will come home with me soon,” her mother continued. “I would hate for us to burden you further, Eveline.”
Eveline scoffed. “Have you asked Iris this? Or are you just assuming.”
“I know what is best,” her mother retorted.
“She does not need to be here, as close to His Grace as she is—for all we know, he might come to her and make things worse! No…” A shake of the head.
“She will come home where she belongs. That I let her leave in the first place…” A deep sigh.
“For that, I am to blame. A mistake made, one I will need to make up for.”
“That is not your decision to make,” Eveline said.
“I am her mother!”
“She is my sister.”
“She is my daughter—”
“Enough!” Iris cried so suddenly that she caught herself by surprise. Her book was on her lap, closed and forgotten, and her rueful stare was saved for her mother. “Mother, that is enough.”
Her mother leaned back in shock. “Enough what? Iris, please do not raise your voice at me like that. It is not proper.”
“Proper?!” Iris cried. “What is not proper is being treated like a little girl. I am not a little girl, Mother. And I refuse to sit here and listen to you speak about things that you do not have even the faintest idea of.”
“Iris…” Her mother touched her chest as if hurt. “There is no need for that. All I am doing is what is best.”
“What you think is best.” Iris was on her feet now, glaring at her mother. “That is all you have ever done! There was a time, I admit, when it was needed. When I was a little girl, sick and unable to care for myself. But I am not a little girl, Mother. I have not been for some time.”
“I know that…”
“And yet you refuse to see it!” She threw her hands in the air, anger taking hold. Iris had never spoken to her mother like this, and it was shocking, if nothing else. “What happened between Philip and me is indeed tragic, but it is my mistake. My sadness. My life! And I will do as I want with it.”
Eveline snorted.
“And Eveline!” Iris turned on her sister. “I appreciate everything you have done, but please do not speak about me as if I am not here. I am sad, not dead. There is a difference.”
Eveline’s face dropped. “I… sorry, Iris. I did not mean it.”
“Nobody ever does,” Iris sighed, the anger leaving her.
Deep down, she knew it was not her sister or mother she was upset with.
That was saved for herself. “Nor did Philip—and please, both of you, I ask that you stop speaking about him as if he is some sort of malevolent beast. He is still my husband, and he deserves more than your scorn.”
“But…” Her mother blinked in confusion. “What he did to you—”
“Was my fault, as much as it was his. And Mother…” Iris shook her head in derision. “When you choose to speak of what happened and how I got here, please feel free to remember that you were the one who forced me into this marriage. Not Daniel. Not Philip. You.”
Her mother gasped. “I—”
“Only did what you thought was best,” Iris spoke over her.
Tone softening, she rested a hand on her mother’s shoulder.
“As you have always done. As you will always do. And where I appreciate it, this is my battle to fight. I don’t need you to protect me anymore, Mother.
What I do need…” She forced a smile. “Well, a mother who cares about how her daughter is feeling, rather than how it reflects on her, is a good start.”
Her mother was rendered speechless. As was her sister, for that matter.
Iris fixed them both with a desperate look, one she hoped told them both that she was done with this conversation. She didn’t want their pity. She didn’t want their advice. All she wanted was to be left alone.
That is the downside of growing up and not needing others to save you, isn’t it. That when you want to be saved, it falls on you to do it.
With that, she strode from the reading room and made for the spare bedroom. She was hurting. Her heart was broken. The pain would not leave her soon, and it wasn’t something that could be fixed.
Time to heal was what Iris needed, and it would be done alone as it was a common theme in her life. The way she had acted these last few weeks, that was one thing Iris could be sure of.