Chapter 1.16 #6
“He acted almost wildly, as I had never seen him before—not at me directly, but reproaching me for not allowing him to clarify things. He demanded I tell him who Markham was, and I related everything with complete honesty, trying to prove to him that Markham did not deserve his attention. He grew even angrier and demanded that I stay inside while he returned to settle things. I was petrified. I begged him to put the matter aside. I actually crawled and clung to him; he was looking at me as if I were out of my mind. He asked me to be rational and listen to him, as nothing would happen. But I did not. I do not know why; I could never explain to myself why I was so terrified. Seeing me in such a state, he seemed to overcome his own rage. He tried to calm me; he put me to bed and held me in his arms, talking to me, until well after midnight. He…we made love and all the time I did nothing but ask him, beg him, force him to promise me he would not leave me that night or ever, that he would never go to seek Markham again. Finally, I fell asleep.”
The tension in the room was so intense that it became unbearable even for David; he kept staring at her as she was speaking, but she seemed a completely different person than the Cassandra he knew.
He wanted to move closer to her in support and comfort as, obviously, the emotions were overwhelming, but he did not dare.
“During the night I awoke, frightened by a nightmare…I can still remember the sensation. I felt trapped in a cage of ice, everything dark around me, and I began to fall into an abyss, unable to stop. I woke up sweating, crying. But the nightmare was just beginning. The more frightening, life-draining nightmare started then and would end more than one year later. I looked for Thomas, but he was not there. Instead of his warm presence, I found a note on my pillow. He said there was something he had to do—his honour and love for me demanded it—and he would return soon. Nothing else…but I knew he had broken his promise to me. I knew where he had gone.”
She started pacing the room with growing anxiety, her voice trembling.
“He did not return—not that night nor the next. I sent my servants to search amongst his acquaintances in all the places he might have frequented. I hired more men to form search parties and retrace his movements around the town and beyond. They found him two days later in a secluded grove outside Rome. He had been shot…twice…in the back.”
She was not crying, her eyes fixed on the fireplace, and she was clasping her fists together so tightly that the fingers were livid.
David felt helpless, dying of sadness and of wishing to protect and comfort her, yet he knew it was not the moment for him to interfere.
There she was, alone with her memories, alone with his memory.
There was no place for anyone else. The colonel remained alone—and lonely.
“I do not know what happened the next few days; Mrs Simmons must have taken care of the funeral because I cannot remember much. I only remember staying near his coffin and staring at him. I did not even cry…not for a moment. The next weeks I did not leave my room. I spent all my time hating him. I hated him with all my strength because he made me lose everything—after he had given me the whole world. He had put his stupid pride above my wishes and happiness. His child was inside me, and I hated him even more for what he had done to that innocent life. I only wanted my thoughts to stop forever, as I could not bear them any longer. Then…one morning I woke, and I felt warm…too warm. The only thing I knew was that the doctor had been fetched—not for the first time, so it was of little importance. Then more time passed, and Mrs Simmons told me my child was also gone. The doctor said my child had died because I did not eat or sleep for all that time. Can you understand that? What kind of mother was I? What kind of woman am I?”
Unconsciously, the colonel shivered. His eyes were fixed on her beautiful—now transfigured—face in an expression of the deepest sorrow.
There she was—in front of him—revealing to him a part of her soul that was kept in the darkest, most secret place until that moment.
She then started to cry, and her body knelt on the floor.
“That moment I understood: it was not my husband’s fault, but mine.
It was I who provoked everything. Had I not confronted Lord Markham that evening, had I pretended I did not see him, none of it would have happened.
I killed my husband, and I killed my child. ”
He knelt by her on the rug, his arms around her shoulders; she fought to push him away. “Cassandra, do not reject me, please. It is not the man trying to comfort you now, but your friend.”