Chapter 21 #2
Marianne sat on the edge of the bed. For a long time, she didn’t say anything; she just watched the flame of the candle. “Your father and I, we have spent a great deal of time tonight talking. Or rather, I spent a great deal of time thinking about what you said.”
She reached out, her hand hovering tentatively over Lucy’s shoulder before she finally rested it there.
“I know I am judgmental, Lucy,” Marianne admitted, the words coming out slow and difficult.
“I know I have been harsh to everyone. Not many people like me and for good reason. I can be difficult. I looked at your life, and I saw a series of missed opportunities because I was measuring your success by my own regrets. But the truth is, I wanted you to have the security I never felt I had. I thought that if you were a duchess, you would finally be ‘safe.’” She sighed, a heavy sound that seemed to fill the dark room.
“But I never stopped to ask if you felt safe in your own skin. That was my mistake. I didn’t see that you were building something for yourself because I was too busy looking for what you were lacking.
So, this is me saying that I am sorry, Lucy.
I have been a difficult mother to a brilliant daughter. ”
Lucy turned her head slightly, looking at her mother through the gloom. The apology was so unexpected, it felt like the world had shifted on its axis.
Marianne squeezed Lucy’s shoulder, her touch unexpectedly tender.
“I only ever wanted the best for you, Lucy. I just didn’t realize that the best wasn’t something I could define for you.
You can talk to me. In fact, please... talk to me.
I won’t judge. I won’t talk about titles or business.
Just tell me what is happening in your heart.
I will just listen and try to understand you. ”
Lucy adjusted in the bed to face Marriane with teary eyes. “You promise, Mama?” she asked with a quivering voice.
“I promise. I will not judge.”
The dam finally broke. Lucy sat up, her hair disheveled and her face streaked with tears that shimmered in the candlelight. She pulled her knees to her chest, looking smaller than she ever had in her adult life.
“I love him,” she whispered, the words coming out in a broken, jagged sob.
“Or I think that I do. I think I love him, Mama. I’ve heard my cousins and my clients talk about it for years.
The fluttering hearts, the grand passions, and I always thought it was a sort of madness.
But this... it’s not just a feeling. It’s an ache.
It’s a constant, hollow ringing in my ears because he isn’t there.
He is not here, Mama. I haven’t seen him in days. ”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, but the tears kept coming.
“I’ve spent these past few days trying to convince myself that I’m glad to be back to my real life, but the truth is, I miss every inch of that house.
I miss the way the library smells. I miss the chaos of the boys.
It felt safe. I wasn’t just a Matchmaker or the disappointing daughter.
I was just Lucy, and I felt like I belonged. ”
Marianne listened in silence, her expression softening into a look of profound empathy.
“I already felt like I was part of their family,” Lucy continued, her voice trembling.
“I think I fell in love with him while I was simply being by his side, watching him try so hard to be a father. When I walked away and those gates closed, it felt like I left a piece of my soul behind on the gravel. I would do anything to go back. I would give up the job, the independence, all of it, just to hear Daniel laugh or to see Rowan look at me that way again. But I don’t know what to do.
He told me to leave. He released me. How can I go back to a man who didn’t want me to stay? ”
She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.
“I've made a mess of it all,” Lucy cried. “I was so cold to him because I had convinced myself I shouldn’t fall in love. I was so busy protecting my pride that I didn’t show him I cared, and now, I’m here, and he’s there, and I don’t think I’ll ever feel whole again. I want him, Mama. I really do.”
Marianne leaned forward and pulled Lucy into a tight embrace, sobbing too. It was a rare gesture, one that smelled of the familiar rosewater perfume Lucy had known since childhood, but this time, it felt like a sanctuary rather than a tether.
“Shh, my darling,” Marianne murmured, stroking Lucy’s hair. “Let it out. I am so sorry.”
After a few minutes, Marianne pulled back just enough to look her daughter in the eye.
“I want you to try to take your mind off it for just a little while. What’s done is done.
Now, take your time and figure out what you want to do from here.
But sitting in this dark room with your ghosts will only make the pain sharper.
It will be good for you to breathe different air. ”
Lucy wiped her face, her breath still hitching. “I don’t think I can face anyone, Mama. I just want to be alone.”
“You can,” Marianne insisted gently. “Join me for a visit to your cousin’s home tomorrow.
I have been making an effort to speak with them, Lucy.
I apologized for my past harshness, and they have been gracious enough to forgive me.
I am trying to make amends by being present in their lives, truly present, without the gossip and the judgment. ”
Lucy looked at her mother in surprise. The idea of Marianne Crampton apologizing to anyone, let alone the cousins she had spent years criticizing, was almost as shocking as the Duke’s rejection.
“I don’t know if I want this,” Lucy admitted, her voice small. “I don’t know if I have the energy to pretend to be happy at a family gathering.”
“Just think about it. It’s all right if you don’t want to go,” Marianne said to her.
Lucy nodded as she laid back down, feeling tired all of a sudden. “Thank you, Mama.”
“If you tap that wood any harder, Rowan, you’ll likely go right through to the gardens,” Magnus said, leaning back in his armchair.
The morning mist still clung to the low-lying hollows of the Walford manor, but inside the sun-drenched library of Magnus’ estate, the air felt thick and stagnant to Rowan.
He stood by the tall sash window, his fingers drumming a restless, uneven beat against the mahogany frame.
He was still wearing his riding boots, flecked with the dried mud of a frantic night’s journey, and his cravat was loosened.
Rowan didn’t turn. His gaze was fixed on the gravel sweep of the grounds, scanning every passing shadow as if he could conjure a specific carriage out of thin air. “I am merely admiring the architecture, Magnus. You’ve made improvements.”
“My wife made the improvements. Also, you have never looked at the architecture once,” Magnus countered with a dry chuckle. “You’ve looked at the front gate sixty-four times since you arrived two hours ago. You look like a man expecting an invasion, or perhaps a miracle. What is wrong with you?”
Rowan finally turned, his eyes dark with a weary, sharp-edged intensity that made Magnus sit up a little straighter. “Nothing is wrong. I had business in the area and thought I would stop by. Is it a crime for a man to visit his oldest friend?”
“It is when that friend arrives at dawn, looking like he’s ridden through a hurricane, and refuses to sit down,” Magnus pointed out. He narrowed his eyes, studying Rowan’s haggard expression. “What is going on, Rowan? You’re vibrating like a bowstring.”
Rowan paced the length of the rug, his boots heavy against the floor. He wanted to ask. The question was burning a hole in his tongue, but the habit of privacy was a hard armor to shed. He couldn’t simply admit he was chasing a woman who had already told him there was nothing else to discuss.
“I was curious,” Rowan began, his voice carefully neutral, though it lacked its usual weight, “about your wife’s cousins. The Cramptons. I assume they are in residence at their estate nearby?”
Magnus paused, his teacup halfway to his lips. “The Cramptons? Yes, I believe so. Why the sudden interest in Lucy’s family? I thought your business with the matchmaker was concluded. You sent word that the arrangement was… dissolved.”
“It is. Officially,” Rowan said, his gaze drifting back to the window. He felt a sharp pang at the mention of her name. “I merely wondered if she had arrived safely. The roads can be treacherous this time of year. I also heard that she visits the duchess often... being her cousin and all.”
“The roads are perfectly fine, and Lucy is a capable woman,” Magnus said, his curiosity now fully piqued. “Why are you being so secretive? If you want to see her, go to the Hemroad estate and ask for her whereabouts. It’s less than six miles down the road.”
“I cannot simply arrive,” Rowan muttered, his jaw tightening. “Besides, I was merely curious.”
“Rowan, you look like a man who hasn’t slept in three days. You have been here for well over thirty minutes, and you have not said one joke or teased me about my choice of beverage this morning. You are starting to worry me, old friend.”
Rowan’s patience, never his strongest suit, finally snapped. He stopped his pacing and turned on Magnus, bracing himself to ask what had been burning on his tongue for a long time.
“Where is Lucy, Magnus?” he demanded, his voice stripped of all its ducal layers.
“Do you know? I think you do. I am not quite sure where exactly she is. Did she truly return to her Aunt’s estate?
Did she go to London to meet with her cousin?
Did she go to Hemroad estate, her family house?
Or is she here? This seems like the most viable option given that she does not like her family house very much, and the carriage returned quite early.
If it had taken her to the Mullens estate, it would have taken longer to return. ”