Chapter 13 #2
She didn’t wait for his permission. She draped a discarded shawl over her soaked shoulders to hide the mess and walked out.
But she didn’t head for her bedchamber. Once she was out of sight of the dining hall, she turned toward the back stairs, her eyes searching the shadows for a small, frightened boy.
“Brook? Where are you?”
Lucy ignored the icy feeling on her chest and continued her search. She didn’t check the noisy places; she knew Brook better than that. She sought out the quiet, forgotten corners.
“Are you in here?” she asked, pushing a door open. “You need to stop hiding, Brook. Your father might be upset with you, but he won’t punish you.”
Finally, she found him in the old solarium at the end of the east wing, a cozy, glass-walled room filled with dormant ferns and the scent of damp earth.
He was curled into a small ball on a stone bench, tucked behind a large terracotta pot as if trying to blend into the shadows.
When she walked in, he shrunk even further, hoping that she did not see him.
Lucy didn't rush toward him. She moved slowly, her wet skirts heavy and cold against her legs. She sat down on the far end of the bench, leaving a respectful distance between them. For a long time, neither of them spoke.
“You know,” Lucy began softly, staring out at the silvered garden, “when I was about your age, I was quite the defiant little girl. My mama had a very specific list of books she deemed ‘appropriate’ for me to read. Mostly poetry about flowers and embroidery manuals. But there was one particular book in my papa’s study that I wasn’t allowed to touch.
It was a thick, tattered journal of an explorer who had travelled through the deepest jungles. ”
Brook didn’t move, but his breathing hitched.
“I was obsessed with it,” Lucy continued, a small smile tugging at her lips as she recollected.
“Every time my mother asked me to read my ‘appropriate’ books, I would pretend to obey. But the moment she turned her back, I would sneak that journal away. I would hide in the highest corner of the attic or under my own bed, reading about ancient ruins by candlelight. I was so defiant about it. I felt like that book was the only thing that belonged truly to me.”
She sighed softly. “When my mother finally found out, we argued for a long time. She was furious that I had disobeyed her, and I was just as angry back. I couldn’t understand why she was so insistent on keeping it from me.
I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t allowed to simply read a book that made me feel alive, rather than the ones she chose for me. ”
She turned her head to look toward him. “I felt like she wasn’t seeing me at all. She was only seeing the daughter she wanted me to be.”
Lucy paused. She sat quietly, waiting to see if he would step out from behind the terracotta pot.
“The lesson I eventually learned, Brook, was that my defiance didn’t actually make my mama listen.
It just made her close her ears tighter.
When I screamed and hid, she only saw a disobedient child, not a girl who loved adventure.
I realized that if I wanted her to understand me, I had to show her I was bigger than my temper. ”
She turned her gaze toward the terracotta pot where he remained huddled.
“I know it feels like the only way to protect your home is to fight everyone who enters it, but being rude to Lady Judith doesn’t tell your papa how you feel.
It only makes him think you’re being difficult for no reason.
It drowns out the truth of what’s bothering you. ”
There was a long, heavy silence. Then, the sound of fabric scraping against stone echoed through the solarium.
Slowly, Brook uncurled himself. He stood up, looking small and shaken, and walked over to the bench.
He didn’t say a word as he sat down right beside her, his shoulder brushing against her damp dress.
“I don’t want to be mean,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on his dangling boots.
“Then apologize,” Lucy said to him.
“I don’t want to do that either,” he replied.
Lucy let out a small, weary sigh. “I know you don’t. But sometimes an apology isn’t for the other person; it’s for you. It shows you’re the one in control of your actions, even when you’re angry.”
She shifted on the stone bench to face him more fully.
“Forget about Lady Judith for a moment. Forget about the dinner. I want to ask you something, and I want you to be very honest with me. Do you actually want a mama in this house? Not a replacement for your own and not necessarily the lady sitting at that table, but just… a mother?”
Brook was silent for a long time, his fingers tracing a crack in the stone. The defiance seemed to drain out of him, leaving behind a boy who looked far younger than his years.
“I will be honest,” he whispered, finally looking up at her.
“I do. I want a mother. My brothers and I talk about it a lot, and it’s what we want.
Anthony spoke for all of us. We need someone who knows when Daniel has a nightmare without him having to say it.
We need someone who notices when Father is working too late and makes him stop. ”
He took a shaky breath. “Father is a good man, Lucy. But he’s only a man.
He sees the estate, the titles, and the lessons…
but he doesn’t see us all the time. Not the way a mother would.
We need someone to keep the pieces together.
I just…” He trailed off. “I just want someone who actually wants to be with us, not just someone who just wants to be a duchess.”
Lucy felt a lump form in her throat. She reached over and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, her heart aching for the burden he was carrying. “So do you not think Lady Judith can be that person for you? A mother. To take care of you? Anthony and Daniel seem to like her a lot.”
Brook’s expression soured instantly, the momentary softness in his eyes hardening into a cold, flat stare. “I don’t like her,” he said flatly, kicking his heels against the bench. “She isn’t what she seems.”
Lucy opened her mouth to press for more, to ask if Judith had said something specific or if it was merely a gut feeling, but she caught the defensive set of his jaw. If she pushed too hard now, she would lose the ground she had just gained, so she decided to let it rest for the night.
“All right. Well,” Lucy said, shifting her weight and trying to ignore the cling of her damp skirts, “since we are both currently avoiding the dining room, would you like to do something together? We could play a game, or you could show me that book you were telling me about earlier. That you did not understand.”
Brook looked at her, his eyes traveling over her soaked bodice and the shawl draped over her shoulders. A flicker of guilt crossed his face.
“I’m sorry about the water, Lucy,” he said to her. “I did not mean to spill it on you.”
“I know,” she said, patting him on the back.
“You should go back to dinner,” he said quietly.
“Father will be looking for you. You’re needed there to make things look…
right.” He paused, glancing toward the door.
“Anthony is probably looking for me, too. You should find him first and take him back with you, so you can all finish dinner. I’ll just go to my room and stay out of the way. ”
“No,” Lucy said firmly. “I’m not going back just yet. If Anthony has any sense, he’s already made his way back to the table to finish his meal. But I’m staying right here with you.”
Brook blinked, clearly surprised. A small, genuine smile finally broke through his sombre expression, lighting up his face in a way that made him look like a carefree child again.
“All right,” he whispered. “You can stay.”