Chapter Ten #4
‘Did he tell you about her?’ His voice didn’t sound like his own.
‘A little.’
He forced himself to turn back to look at her. ‘So you know what he did?’
‘I have a vague idea, but Edward, I want to hear it from you. Please, won’t you tell me?’ She crossed the distance between them. ‘Was your mother ill?’
He shook his head. This was so hard. He had been told never to talk about it and yet, the words were on the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out.
He had always found it easier to talk to Bea than anyone else.
He hadn’t wanted her to know this about him, but he had to tell her now. He couldn’t not. He was ready.
‘Edward…?’
He took a breath before he began. ‘My mother was one of those people who stood out in the crowd. Impossible to ignore, utterly memorable. She was very beautiful.’
‘I saw her portrait. You have her eyes.’
‘I know. She was always a loving mother to me, though she needed a lot of help. She had what the doctor called a delicate constitution. She felt things deeply. I was far closer to her than I ever was to my father, but she often had episodes of being unwell. A nervous disorder, my father called it. Sometimes she would be overwhelmed—she would cry a lot. I would sit and read to her or play the piano. She was still a good mother,’ he insisted.
And Bea realised he would be loyal to the woman, defending her to the end.
‘Her intense emotions were seen as signs of instability. My father said the force of her feelings broke her. She would often fly into fits of rage. And my father—well, you have seen how hot-headed he is—he would retaliate. Every word she and my father hurled at each other was like a knife to my heart. The fighting became constant. It was difficult to be around. I found myself never wanting to be in the house.’
Bea shook her head. ‘It is no wonder you were against marriage.’
‘My father saw her behaviour as inconvenient. In a world in which he needed control, she was a loose cannon—and finally, when I was ten, after an incident at a ball where she had too much punch and caused a scene, humiliating him, he ruthlessly decided to do something about it. To protect the family name. He wanted her silenced, out of sight. One day she was here, the next she was gone. But all her things were still in place. Her gowns still hung in the wardrobe. Her jewellery and perfume were still in her drawers, but she had been cruelly removed from the household. William and I were told she had been confined, away from public view in an asylum, somewhere she could get the help she needed.’
‘I’m so sorry, Edward.’
Bea took his hand in hers and he led her back over to sit down. He poured the milk into their cups—the way she liked it—before adding the tea, and her heart swelled. He handed her a cup, before taking a sip of the hot liquid. ‘Do you really want to hear about this?’
‘Yes,’ she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. ‘If you are happy to carry on.’
‘I later discovered my father had had many affairs and I have often wondered if my mother found out and that is what caused her distress in the first place. Some say it was due to her having me—that her mind changed afterwards. I guess we will never know. We blamed each other, my father and I,’ he said sadly.
‘I was devastated when she was gone—and riddled with guilt for not being able to do anything to help her. I refused to talk to my father for a long while. I was angry that instead of looking after her, his wife, our mother, he sent her away. It was one thing him overlooking me, for always treating me like second best—that I could excuse, almost understand, but not this. He prioritised keeping up appearances over her—and I could never forgive him for taking her away from me. William and I were told we weren’t allowed to visit her or even speak of her to anyone in the ton—in case we said the wrong thing. ’
He had often wondered where she was and whether she thought of him. He thought of her every day.
‘People were always asking us about our mother, and we had to evade their questions,’ he continued.
‘But as you saw at the ball about your background, the truth will always come out. There is no point trying to conceal it. It is why I cannot abide secrets, any withholding of information. Why I was so angry with you for keeping Thomas from me.’
Her throat worked, but he didn’t mean to chastise her. He was just trying to explain.
‘Sure enough, the rumours soon spread and I felt ashamed, so ashamed of the things people were saying about my mother. About us. Protecting our reputation became the focus of our days. I hated the fact that opinion mattered so much…but it did. It came to mean everything. Life became one big tightly scripted performance. It became the only way I knew how to live—made just about bearable by the presence of my brother. Then one day, we were given the news my mother had died in the asylum.’ His voice cracked.
It had broken him. Since then, he had closed off his heart to protect himself.
‘It weighs heavy on my mind that I never got to see her again. That I never got her out of there. The guilt is horrendous.’
‘It wasn’t your fault, Edward. You were just a boy. She knew you loved her. And I know, because I have been there with Thomas. Whatever she was going through, whatever hardships she suffered, she would have still loved you, no matter what.’
He stared at her, allowing that to sink in.
‘If you asked me whether I wanted to be Duke, when my father passes, the answer is no, not really, because why would I want a title that caused my family so much grief? My mother was sent to an asylum to preserve the family name, and my father valued this legacy over love. I resent it. Yet so many people have suffered because of it, how can I do anything but accept what is coming my way?’
‘No one need suffer from the title when it’s yours. You are a different man to your father, Edward… Do you think he would have cut you out of his will? I am worried I am to blame for that.’
‘I do not think so. It is too important to him that we carry on his legacy. So it looks as if we are stuck here, I’m afraid,’ he said wryly.
‘And if he did? Would you not resent me?’
‘No. I would have no regrets. That is, if you still want me, in light of all that you had heard tonight.’
‘I have always wanted you, Edward. Before I knew your full name or even who you truly were.’ She reached out to place a hand on his thigh.
‘I know you are angry with him, but you should speak with him, about all of this, before it is too late to do so. You will regret it otherwise. You need to make peace with him, for your own sake—and his.’
He inclined his head. ‘There you go, giving out good advice again.’
She smiled. ‘I understand all you have told me. But Edward, you hate secrets and yet you kept this from me…’
He hung his head. ‘I know. I am sorry, Bea. I should have told you sooner. You deserved to know the truth. I thought… I feared you would look at me differently, if you were to find out. Perhaps worry her condition was hereditary, I don’t know.’
She shook her head. ‘That is not what I’m afraid of.’
Looking at her, he realised her skin was pallid, her shoulders tight. The tendons were standing out in her neck. ‘Then what? Because there is something, isn’t there? Something you’re not telling me.’
She jerked.
‘My mother…she met a man, just like I met you. She fell in love and she spent a winter in his arms, dreaming of a future with him. But when she fell pregnant with me, he left, never to be seen again.’
Edward frowned. ‘You have not told me that before.’
‘I know. I am sure there is lots we still have to learn about each other. My mother always told me never to trust a man, for they would end up abandoning you.’
He reared. ‘You think I will do the same?’
She bit her lip.
‘Because I left you before,’ he conceded.
He gripped her hand. ‘That was then. Things are different now.’ He brought her fingers up to his lips and kissed them.
‘Whatever difficulties or differences we might have, I hope we will be able to discuss them, resolve them calmly. And let us both swear right now, there will be no more secrets between us.’