Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“You must eat something, Your Grace.”
“I am not hungry, Agnes.” Rachel barely looked up from the embroidery hoop in her lap. It was an activity that she had found drowned away the noise inside her head.
“You have not been hungry for three days.” Agnes’ voice was edged with worry, her hands folded tightly in front of her. “That is not normal.”
“I am perfectly fine.” Rachel kept her gaze fixed on the needle piercing through the delicate fabric. Over and then under. A repetitive motion.
She would do it until her fingers were sore.
“No, you are not,” Agnes huffed. “You are pale, you are restless, and you barely sleep. If you think no one has noticed, you are sorely mistaken.”
“I do not require a lecture.” Rachel’s fingers twitched slightly, but she did not pause her stitching.
“Yes, I agree, Your Grace. You require a meal.”
Rachel let out a slow breath, forcing a small smile. Anything to make her worry less and leave me alone to my ruminations. “I will eat later,” she promised, crossing her fingers behind the embroidery hoop.
“It has been days, Your Grace. No, I cannot see this. You must eat now.”
Rachel looked up then, startled by the firm edge in Agnes’ voice. The housekeeper had always carried herself with a mostly unassuming presence, but now, she stood tall, her lips pressed in a tight line. Agnes was scolding her like a mother would.
The realization struck her with an odd sort of ache. Rachel had not had anyone fuss over her like this in years. She had learned long ago to take care of herself, to guard her emotions, to bear things alone.
Dare she admit that it felt nice to be looked after?
“Agnes, truly. I am fine.” Rachel’s voice was softer this time. She did not need to punish Agnes over something that she played no part in.
“No, you are not,” Agnes countered, shaking her head. “You are hurting.”
“Do not be ridiculous.” Rachel let out a laugh.
“Oh, I am not the one being ridiculous, Your Grace,” Agnes continued. “You think I do not see what you are doing? Pretending as if nothing has changed? As if your days have not been a quiet torment since the duke left?”
“I do not need to discuss this.” Rachel shook her head.
“You need to eat. Please.” The housemaid was pleading now, and it killed Rachel to deny her like this. But truthfully, a bite of food was not going to fix the ache in Rachel’s chest, and she was not about to try either.
She set the embroidery hoop aside, rising to her feet. “Enough, Agnes.”
Agnes did not move, nor did she back down. “Then tell me this, Your Grace—how much longer will you punish yourself like this?”
When she did not respond, Agnes continued, “I know you are hurting, but starving yourself will not bring him back any faster.”
“Agnes.” Rachel’s voice was sharp, more so than she had ever spoken to the maid before. “You are dismissed.”
“You are my responsibility,” Agnes shot back. “I have taken care of you since the moment you arrived in this house, and I will not stand by and watch you waste away over something you will not even name.
“I am not wasting away.”
“You have not eaten. You do not sleep. You do not speak to anyone unless forced to,” Agnes continued. “This is not living, Your Grace.”
“Agnes, you are to do as I say,” Rachel asserted, leaving no room for argument. “You are dismissed until further notice. Now please, leave me be.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Go away.”
Rachel didn’t bother raising her voice. She was curled up on the sofa, staring at the wall with a glazed-over look in her eyes. Whoever it was would eventually take the hint and leave her in peace.
But the knock came again. Her fingers clenched against the fabric of her gown. “I said, go away.”
The door opened anyway. Rachel sat up sharply, ready to snap at whoever dared to ignore her, but she stilled the moment she saw who it was.
“Marina?”
Her sister stood in the doorway, a basket in her hands.
“What brings you here?” Rachel blinked, suspicion creeping in. “Is something wrong at home?”
“Must you jump to conclusions like this?” Marina shrugged, stepping inside with an air of nonchalance that did not fool Rachel in the slightest. “Can I not visit my sister?”
“You can, but you usually do not. So, I ask again—what brings you here?” Rachel’s eyes narrowed.
“Well, if you must know,” Marina sighed, setting the basket down on the nearby table, “Agnes wrote to me.”
Of course. Rachel exhaled, shaking her head. “She had no right.”
“She had every right,” Marina countered, crossing her arms. “You are starving yourself in this ridiculous, self-imposed exile of yours. What did you expect her to do? Watch in silence?”
“I am not—” Rachel scoffed, arms folding tightly over her chest.
“Yes, you are,” Marina cut in, her gaze unwavering. “And if you try to argue with me, I will shove this spoon in your mouth myself.”
Rachel’s gaze flickered to the basket. The scent was unmistakable—a dish she had adored since childhood. Her throat tightened.
“I brought your favorite,” Marina smirked slightly, catching her hesitation.
“Where did you get this?”
“I made it.”
“Since when do you cook?” Rachel’s eyebrows shot up. In all her years, she did not know her sister could cook.
“Well, since you left,” Marina dismissed with a shrug. “Now, are you going to eat it or not?”
Rachel swallowed, glancing at the basket again. The familiar scent curled in the air, tugging at her chest.
“If you refuse, I will personally drag Agnes in here to spoon-feed you like a child.” Marina arched a brow.
Rachel’s lips twitched despite herself. How the tables had turned. Her little sister was the one who was looking after her now.
“You are allowed to be sad. Agnes told me that the duke has not been home in a while,” Marina said after a moment. “But you are not allowed to destroy yourself over him.”
“I do not need you to fuss over me.”
“Too late,” Marina said. “Now, eat.”
Rachel reached for the dish, her fingers brushing against the warmth of the bowl. Maybe she would allow herself this.
As Rachel slowly began to eat, Marina kept a watchful eye on her. It was not until she had taken more than a few bites that Rachel turned to her again.
“Are you going to keep staring at me the entire time?”
“Yes,” Marina replied. “Unless you wish to tell me what happened with Simon.”
Rachel’s fingers stilled, and she suddenly lost her appetite again. She had known this question was coming. Marina had never been one to tiptoe around things, and Rachel doubted she would start now. Still, answering felt like cutting open a wound she had been desperately trying to seal.
“He left,” Rachel said curtly.
“Where did he go?” Marina’s brows drew together. “Did he mention when he will return?”
“He did not,” Rachel exhaled, placing the napkin down. “He said he had business elsewhere and that I was free to live my life however I pleased.” She had meant to sound indifferent, but her voice wavered just enough for Marina to catch it.
“And you let him go?” Marina asked, incredulous. “You should have pressed him for more details at the very least. This does not seem like a very nice thing to do, especially to a newly wedded wife.”
“What else was I supposed to do? Beg him to stay?” Rachel replied, growing annoyed.
“Well…” Marina pressed her lips together. “I suppose that depends as well. If you feel you truly are freer in his absence, then perhaps you should let him go entirely.”
“That is not what I meant.” Rachel’s breath caught, and she turned sharply toward Marina.
“Then what did you mean?” Marina gave her a knowing look.
Rachel pressed her lips together, folding her hands in her lap. The weight in her chest grew heavier. “I did not want him to go.”
“Then why did you let him?”
“Because he was going to leave regardless of what I said. He was already halfway out of the door before I could say anything at all.”
“Did something happen between you both before he left?” Marina frowned. “That does not sound like a man who had made peace with his decisions. That sounds like a man who was running.”
“Maybe he was,” Rachel swallowed, considering the possibility.
Marina exhaled and reached for Rachel’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Do you love him?”
Rachel flinched. She had not said the words out loud before. She had not even admitted them to herself. “I do,” she confessed. “I love him.”
The words sounded foreign even to herself, but it was the truth. And until a few days ago, she had thought that he loved her, too.
“Oh, Rachel…” Marina softened, squeezing Rachel’s hand.
“I knew—I always knew that he would never… that this marriage was never meant to be more than duty. But I still let myself hope. I thought that maybe, just maybe, he…” Rachel swallowed past the lump in her throat and then trailed off, pressing her lips together.
“That he would love you back?” Marina finished for her.
Rachel nodded, unable to speak. A girl can hope.
Rachel was worried that Marina would pity her or extend sympathy—that was the last thing that she needed in this moment—but Marina had the opposite reaction.
“Well, that settles it,” she said, standing up abruptly.
“Settles what?” Rachel blinked up at her
“I am staying with you tonight.”
“Marina, that is hardly necessary.” Rachel let out a startled laugh. “I am not some fragile china doll that you have to guard. I shall be fine on my own. It is enough for me that you have cared enough to visit.”
“It is entirely necessary,” Marina cut in. “You are miserable, and I am not about to leave you to stew in it alone. Because from what I can see, you have done nothing but wallow in silence since he left. Agnes told me you barely leave your room.”
“I do not need an audience for my misery.”
“No, but you do need someone to shake you out of it,” Marina shot back. “And that person is me.”
“And how do you propose to do that? By braiding my hair and stuffing me with food?”
“If that is what it takes.”
“Marina, I am not a child!” Rachel argued.