Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Iris had not left her room since her argument with her mother.
That was two days ago now, and still she had no intention of leaving anytime soon.
Food was brought to her periodically. She had books to read and material to write with.
A bed to sleep in. And most importantly, plenty of time to be alone and reflect on all the mistakes she had made which led her there.
And seeing as there was a trove of mistakes from which to choose, Iris figured it would be some time before she was ready to announce herself back into the world.
But that’s the thing about best laid plans. Often, it is others who break them. Not out of malice or spite, but because they care. As it was when Iris heard a knock at the door, followed by the gentle sound of her mother’s voice.
“Iris…” She did not push the door open and barge in, which was the first sign that this was not to be a typical visit. “Are you decent?”
“Please, Mother,” Iris sighed. “Not now.” She was lying on top of her bed, arms folded over her chest, staring at the ceiling. Misery still very much her only true companion, she wondered often now how much longer it would last. Surely, it can’t go on forever. There has to be an end in sight.
“We need to talk,” her mother persisted from the other side of the door. “Please, Iris. It will only take a moment.”
Iris knew her mother well enough to know this would not be a pleasant conversation.
In all her life, she could not think of a single time that her mother had apologized to her.
Had admitted fault. Had given even a hint that she’d done the wrong thing and needed to change. That just isn’t who she was.
Best get it over with. Let her berate. Let her judge. Whatever I do, I cannot let her get to me. Not again.
“Come in,” Iris called, refusing to stand or move at all.
The door creaked open and her mother poked her head inside. She saw Iris lying there and her brow furrowed with the usual look of judgement. “I hope you have not been lying like that these last two days, Iris. It is not good for you.”
Iris groaned. “And there it is.”
“There is what?”
“I wondered how long it would take until you started at me. One whole second, which is close to a record. So, I suppose that is something.” Iris grimaced to herself then, annoyed that she’d given in so quickly to her mother’s pestering.
Surprisingly, her mother did not take that chance to double down as she would have once done.
Rather, her expression softened as she studied her daughter and Iris dared turn to see what her mother was doing, seeing right away that what should have been a look of judgement was instead one of sorrow. Even guilt.
“I did not come here to argue with you,” her mother said.
“Then why come at all?”
Her mother stepped through the door and closed it behind her. Next, she hesitated awkwardly, trying to decide what to do. Brow furrowed, lips pressed together, a decision was reached and she strode across the room, sitting herself on the bed by Iris’ shoulders and body.
“I came here to apologize,” her mother said, albeit in a way that sounded as if to do so brought her pain.
“You… you did?” Iris pushed herself up slightly, not believing the words spoken.
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
Iris scoffed. “Can you blame me?”
To that, her mother laughed as if at a joke.
“I suppose I can’t. While I do not like to admit it, there have been times when perhaps I have not been as…
” she considered, “as earnest with you as I should do. A mother is many things, Iris, above all else she is someone she hopes her daughters look up to for guidance and inspiration. In my mind, how could my daughters do such a thing if I were wrong all the time? Better to not admit fault at all.”
“That is not how it works, Mother. Just because you don’t admit that you are wrong, does not mean you are not that.”
“Why do you think I am here?” she raised an eyebrow at Iris. “An entire life of refusing to admit fault and I cannot help but think that I am well overdue.”
“You’re being serious?” Iris looked at her mother as if she did not recognize her. “You really wish to apologize.”
Her mother exhaled as she reached out and rested a hand on Iris’ arm.
“For so many things. Truly, I do not even know where to start.” She bit into her lip as she considered, and Iris let her do just that.
Her mother was here to apologize, so she certainly wasn’t going to help her.
“I suppose forcing you to marry His Grace is as good a spot as any. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now that I was only thinking of my own self-interests.”
“Mother…” Iris shuffled up so that she was sitting. “You don’t have to apologize for that. Of all the things you have ever done, that is perhaps one of those that I should be grateful for.”
“How about the way I have treated you all these years,” she said next.
“I wanted you to believe—I wanted myself to believe that I was doing it for you. My baby girl. And what good is a mother if she cannot protect those who need it most? But I have come to realize these last few days that perhaps most of what I did was not nearly as much for you as it was for me.”
“What does that mean?”
“I needed to feel as if I was needed, Iris. As if I had a place in this world. Your sisters had grown. You brother was his own man. But you…” She smiled softly and sniffed back tears.
“You were always my little girl, and when you married His Grace, I saw you had grown and that… that…” She sniffed again. “That you didn’t need me anymore.”
Iris shook her head. “I will always need you, Mother. As I will always be grateful for how you cared for me.” She laughed softly then. “I just wish you weren’t so darn insistent on it. As you said, I have grown considerably since I was little.”
“I see that now.”
“I know you do.” She took her mother’s hand and squeezed it lovingly. “And thank you for saying.”
In the grand scheme of things, it was such a small moment. The simplest of apologies, and not for anything specific. But it spoke largely to the problem at hand, confirming that it was never too late to apologize, just as it was never too late to forgive.
“I’m not done yet,” her mother continued.
“Above all else, these last few days…” A shake of the head.
“I was too quick to judge. Too quick to presume. You left the duke and rather than asking why you did, doing as a mother ought and making sure that her daughter was well, I assumed the worst and refused to listen. What I should have done from the beginning was asked why…” She looked at Iris.
“And whatever the reason, promised to do as I could to make it better.”
Iris sighed. “Sadly, Mother. This isn’t one of those things you can make better.”
“I would like to try.”
“Still trying to protect me,” Iris said with humor and love.
“Some things will never change,” her mother countered. “The difference now being that for once I am willing to listen. I want to help, Iris. But only if you wish for it.”
Her mother couldn’t help her. In truth, nobody could. Iris’ problems were her own and time was what she needed to cure her woes and see herself set right. But lying in this room, letting her sorrow grow and break her, wasn’t helping either.
Perhaps just speaking of it out loud is the first step to getting past this pain and this hurt? And for once, my mother wants to help me, not because she thinks she must, but because she hates seeing me like this.
“It is all so silly,” Iris began. As she did, she shuffled closer to her mother and allowed her to be wrapped in her arms.
“These things generally are,” her mother cooed as she stroked her hair.
It was there, sitting on her bed, held by her mother, that Iris told her all that had happened between herself and the duke.
His rules about not having his private life pried into.
The way she had learned about Percy and his mother and how this had affected him.
How she had lied to him, obscuring what she knew because she had been afraid—because she had worried it might change what she and the duke were slowly starting to become.
And finally, when he had found out, betraying his trust, and ruining everything.
“And he walked out?” her mother asked. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Iris said, sniffing back the tears. “Which did not surprise me. I knew it would happen when he found out. I only wish I had told him sooner. Then, maybe…”
“Iris…” Her mother pulled back and looked at her. “This was not your fault.”
“It is.”
“No,” she said sternly. “It is not. Nor is it the duke’s, although I hate to admit such a thing. What this is, is a failure to communicate based on an assumption about how the other might feel.”
“What do you mean?” Iris frowned.
“You assumed how the duke would react, which is why you did not tell him. And he assumed you did so with malice or for the wrong reasons, which is why he acted the way he did. In fact, there is one thing that the two of you did not do, which might just solve all of this.”
“What… what are you speaking about?”
“Talking to one another,” her mother said with a slight smile. “Tell me, have the two of you spoken since? Really spoken?”
“I…” Iris hesitated, knowing the answer, and feeling embarrassed about it. “In a fashion—his brother, Robert returned the next day to apologize. And Philip refused to hear it. He as good as told me that some things were not worth forgiving. He does not want to hear it.”
“But you have not asked for forgiveness, have you? Still, you and he have not spoken directly. Why, for all you know, His Grace is of the same mind as you. He might think that he is the one who needs to ask for forgiveness. But as you have not seen one another, that is rather impossible to do.”
It was a strange thing to admit that her mother was right. Stranger still that it brought Iris little real hope.
Perhaps she should have sought the duke out and spoken more directly to him? Perhaps they should have argued, fought, worked through this as only they could. But that they had not been able to was at the heart of the problem. They were both so different… or perhaps they were too similar.
Iris had not left because she hated the duke.
She had not run because she thought what she did was unforgiveable.
She had done it because at the end of the day, she and the duke were two different people.
And that was one thing that could not be fixed by a simple apology. At least she didn’t think so.
And seeing as Philip had not come to find her, told her well and truly that he was of the exact same opinion.
“Maybe you are right,” Iris conceded. “Maybe you are wrong. Either way, it amounts to the same thing.” She sniffed and wiped her nose. “That this marriage was doomed to failure.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“It does, Mother. But that you think otherwise…” She leaned back and made sure to be smiling. “As when I was a little girl, you have always been there for me. And for that, you have no idea how grateful I am.”
“I only every wanted what was best,” she said.
“I know it.” They hugged again.
Once, Philip had announced himself as her protecter.
It felt good too. It felt right. But maybe that was also the problem?
All her life, Iris had needed someone else to look after her, to help her, to keep her safe.
Was it time that she stepped out of the shadow and started looking after herself?
Is that where her journey was set to lead her?
In truth, she did not like the sound of it nearly as much as she wanted. Philip might have been her protector, but she felt that she was his also. That he had needed her as she had needed him, enough that they had come so close to working where they shouldn’t have done.
Again, I am brought back to the reality that all of this makes no difference. Here I sit in my mother’s arms and like it or not, Philip is not coming to save me.
For the first time in her life, Iris was free to do as she wished and make her own decisions. No longer in need of protection or someone to watch out for her. And this feeling of independence… it felt suspiciously like loneliness. And likely would do for the rest of her life.
A happily ever after? For Iris, she would find no such thing.