15. Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
A lice sat on the grass, staring blankly out at the landscape. Her knees had weakened in the very spot Elias had left her, and she had stayed crumpled on the ground for who knew how long. The duke’s anger echoed in her mind, his words cutting deeper with each replay. How dare you ? The intensity in those grey eyes, the disgust in his voice—she had never felt smaller, more foolish.
Stupid.
Worthless.
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, trying to dispel the dark thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her. But they persisted, hissing from the corners of her mind.
Eventually, a hand gripped her arm, pulling her to her feet. She understood distantly that it was her mother, dragging her listless form back down the trail. Mrs. Montrose’s furious whispers flowed around her, but they went in one ear and out the other, meaningless sounds that couldn’t penetrate the fog of her despair.
As they approached the picnic, Alice finally seemed to wake from her reverie. She clutched at her mother’s arm like a drowning woman grasping for a lifeline.
“Please,” she begged, still on the edges of where people chatted and enjoyed the outing. “Please do not make me face them again.” The whites of her eyes were wide with panic. “I beg of you, Mother. Pray, do not force me back there.”
She could not face the duke again. Could not bear to see that contempt in his eyes.
Mrs. Montrose stared at her daughter for a moment, shocked by the display. Alice knew she must look like a madwoman—wisps of hair having escaped her updo, eyes wild with desperation. Finally, her mother’s mouth set in a thin line and she nodded, steering Alice around the entire party toward one of the carriages. Alice distantly heard her mother making excuses to the driver about her daughter not feeling well.
All Alice could do was stare into the distance as her mother arranged their departure. Were they watching her? Probably. She had been nothing but a string of scandals since she had set foot on this horrid estate. They were probably jeering. Probably whispering. Probably all staring at her.
But when she turned, no one was looking at all.
Which was—somehow—worse.
No one cared. Why would they? She was a nobody, a stain on this entire celebration. Just a silly girl who did not belong here, or anywhere, for that matter.
As her gaze swept over the crowd, she was surprised to find she was wrong. There was one person staring at her.
Captain Lacey.
A hot wave of shame flooded over her. Victor seemed like he had seen a ghost, frozen in place, face paler than usual. Had the duke told him of her words? Most likely. She could not face him either, and so she tore her gaze away as the driver opened the door and helped them up into their seats
Once the door closed behind them, and the carriage lurched to a start, her mother erupted.
“How dare you embarrass me like this?” Mrs. Montrose’s voice trembled with fury. “Everything I have worked for—everything I have sacrificed—and you throw it away with both hands!”
“Mama, I?—”
“Do not ‘Mama’ me! You ungrateful child. I have spent years preparing you for society, teaching you everything you need to know, and at the first opportunity, you behave like a common trollop!”
Alice flinched at the words, but her mother wasn’t finished.
“Becoming sick upon a duke, walking alone with a gentleman, and now this spectacle! Running away like some hysterical creature! What will people say?”
“I only meant to?—”
“You meant to ruin us completely!” Mrs. Montrose’s face had gone red with anger. “You are exactly like your father—weak, foolish, a lush—unable to maintain even the most basic standards of proper behavior!”
Mrs. Montrose’s voice grew sharper with each word.
“Do you know what they will say about us now? That we are fortune hunters who couldn’t even manage that properly. That we are country nobodies who dared to reach above our station. That my daughter is addled in the head!”
Alice tried once more to speak, but the words died in her throat. Her mother was right. About everything. The reality of it settled over her, suffocating any protest she might have made to stand up for herself.
Her silence seemed to infuriate her mother even more.
“Now you choose to hold your tongue? After everything? Look at me when I speak to you!”
But Alice couldn’t. She stared at her hands folded in her lap, feeling hollow inside.
The sharp crack of her mother’s palm against her cheek shocked her into looking up. Alice’s hand flew to her face, eyes wide with disbelief. Mrs. Montrose hadn’t struck her since she was a small child. The sting of it seemed to wake something in her—not anger or fear, but a deeper understanding of just how far she had fallen.
She deserved this.
Mrs. Montrose rapped on the roof of the carriage with shocking violence.
“Stop! Stop this instant!”
The carriage jolted to a halt, nearly throwing them from their seats. Her mother’s face was a mask of cold fury as she turned to Alice.
“Get out.”
“What?”
“If you wish to act like a willful child, then you may walk back like one. Perhaps the exercise will clear your addled mind.”
“But Mama?—”
“ Out! ”
Alice stumbled from the carriage, her legs shaking beneath her. Her mother’s words cut through the air like a whip.
“Enjoy this last taste of freedom. For when you return, we shall remain in our rooms until this ghastly celebration ends. I cannot trust you in society any longer.”
The carriage door slammed shut with finality, and Alice watched it roll away, leaving her alone on the road. With trembling fingers, she reached up and unpinned the rose from her dress. She stared at it for a long moment, watching how it caught the sunlight, before throwing it to the ground and leaving it behind.
She began walking, her steps mechanical and leaden. The cheek where her mother had struck her still burned, though the physical pain was nothing compared to what was happening within. The unbidden thoughts that had plagued her all her life rose up, no longer whispers but roaring in her mind, drowning out everything else.
You have destroyed everything your mother worked for.
Her entire life had been building toward this fortnight—every lesson, every correction, every moment spent practicing proper behavior. And she had ruined it all in a matter of days.
You are a disappointment.
The duke’s face flashed in her mind, his features twisted with disgust. Even his kindness had its limits, it seemed. And Captain Lacey—she had been so carelessly cruel with her words about him.
Everyone is better off without you.
The road stretched endlessly before her, winding through the countryside like a river. It had been quite the journey by carriage to the outlook, and it was proving even more difficult on foot, especially in shoes not made for such a trek. The pebbled ground pulled at her heels, forcing her to walk in the middle of the road where the earth was firmer. Her feet screamed in protest with each step, but she barely felt the pain. Physical discomfort seemed distant and unimportant compared to the crushing weight of despair that consumed her entire being.
This was her future stretching out before her—an endless road of disappointments and failures. She would remain a burden on her mother, watching helplessly as their family’s prospects dwindled further. Her father would fall deeper into his cups, and she would become a spinster. Perhaps they would be forced to dismiss Miss Eastridge, to sell what little they had left. And it would all be her fault.
Then she heard it. A carriage.
The sound cut through her dark thoughts like a knife. She turned her head to look down the road, recognizing the source immediately. The driver from their arrival—his shock of white hair unmistakable even at this distance—was urging the horses forward at a reckless pace. Too fast. Incredibly too fast, and showing no signs of slowing. She wondered if he would even see her until it was too late.
And suddenly, as the thought hit her, then reverberated through her mind, all the pain vanished. Gone like a candle snuffed out in the wind. The solution was so simple, so elegant. She didn’t have to do anything. All she had to do was stay in her spot and all would be well. No more disappointments. No more burden on her family. No more constant battle against the darkness within.
And so Alice turned from the sound, hands balled into fists at her sides, and kept walking down the middle of the road, her head a little higher. This would be easier.
This would be better for everyone.
For the first time in years, the thoughts that had tormented her fell silent. There was a strange peace in her decision, a clarity she had never known before. The approaching thunder of hooves and rattle of wheels seemed almost musical—a grand finale to her brief and disappointing life.
Alice closed her eyes.