Chapter 31
"Good day, Your Grace."
Abigail's final words cracked through the drawing room like the snap of a carriage whip. The door closed behind her with the softest click, and the room held its breath.
Then—one long, collective exhale.
Sophia bowed her head and began to cry quietly, one hand resting protectively on the gentle swell of her belly.
Nathaniel's voice was tired, strained. "Now that you've told her," he said, eyes locked on Jasper, "it's time for you to leave."
But Jasper remained kneeling, fists curled against his knees. His eyes were raw, rimmed red, as though sleep hadn't touched him in days.
"You expect me to leave? After that?" His voice cracked—not with anger, but with something jagged, bewildered.
"After how she responded—after seeing my daughter for the first time?
" He shook his head, barely catching his breath.
"I've been searching for Abigail for months, terrified she was dead.
And now—now I find her, and I discover I have a daughter. And you want me to just walk away?"
Grace said nothing. Philip's jaw clenched.
"I love her," Jasper said hoarsely. "I know I made a mistake, but I love her.
I never could've anticipated that Charlotte—my baby sister, who I've looked after since our parents death—would lie like that.
She told me she didn't want to live. She claimed she lost the baby because I didn't believe her.
I—" He broke off, dragging a trembling hand through his hair.
"Why would my own sister do that? She had to know it would destroy everything. "
Philip stood abruptly, the legs of the sofa scraping loudly against the floor.
"You could have believed me," he growled.
"You could've believed Sophia when she told you what you already knew to be true about your sister.
" Sophia let out a sudden sob. The hand not resting on her swollen stomach clutched a handkerchief to her face.
"I told you Charlotte was trying to trap me.
Trying to force my hand. You and I have been like brothers since we were boys.
Why would I lie about that? Why would Sophia? "
He took a step forward. "And then you took it out on Abigail. My sister. You married her. You bedded her. And then you shattered her. God, Jasper—you're lucky I didn't demand satisfaction or call you out publicly."
He jabbed a finger toward him. "You let your sister ruin everything. You chose her lies over my truth, and Abigail has paid the price. She isn't the same. You've eviscerated her."
Philip turned and helped Sophia to her feet, wrapping a protective arm around her as she leaned into him, still weeping. He guided her from the room without another word, her muffled sobs fading into the hallway.
Jasper rose slowly, the room spinning faintly around him.
Grace and Nathaniel remained seated—rigid, silent. The weight of all that had happened pressed between them.
"I have a daughter," Jasper whispered, as if the words might anchor him.
"And I hadn't even met her until today. When I found Greystone Hollow empty, I feared Abigail had died.
And now..." His gaze swept over the familiar faces before him—people who once toasted with his parents at Christmas, who helped him learn to ride, who watched him grow.
"Now even you look at me as though I'm filth beneath your shoes. I don't blame you."
Still, neither Grace nor Nathaniel spoke. So he pressed on, his voice low, desperate.
"My sister told a lie so foul I couldn't imagine it false. And I believed her. I let that belief burn everything good in my life to ash. I feel as though I've been walking through hell. But if there's any way back—any chance—I have to try. I need to fix what I've broken."
Grace stood, slowly.
"You want to fix it?" Her voice trembled with barely restrained fury. "You think you can help Abigail become herself again? That the three of you—Abigail, Emmeline, and you—can play at being a happy family?"
She stepped forward, eyes burning. "Try to see it from our side, Jasper.
The last time we saw Abigail, she was radiant—newly married, smiling so widely I thought her face might split.
She was thrilled, especially about the wedding tour you'd planned.
She told us it was a surprise—something you'd been hinting at during the preparations—and it filled her with joy.
Then, after a month of silence, we received a letter from you saying neither of you would be attending Philip and Sophia's wedding because Abigail was unwell.
And then... nothing. No return address. No way to reach her. Just silence."
She shook her head bitterly. " We contacted every property we knew your family owned, and received nothing.
We were sick with worry. Then, months later, a stranger writes to us—not you—and tells us our daughter was abandoned in a crumbling manor by her husband.
That she is ill. That she's a shadow of herself.
And that this stranger—not her husband—is the one caring for her. "
Jasper flinched.
"We went to retrieve her," Grace continued, her voice softening only slightly.
"But it was like retrieving a ghost. She barely spoke.
Only began caring for herself once she realized she was with child.
We were terrified that once the baby was born, she would stop even doing that.
Now she acts like she is only here on this earth to be Emmeline's mother. "
She paused, resting a hand lightly on Nathaniel's arm. "You gentlemen may speak alone. I find myself in need of air." Then she turned and left the room.
She didn't look back as she left.
Nathaniel gestured to the opposite couch. "Sit."
Jasper obeyed.
For a long moment, Nathaniel simply stared at him.
Then, he inclined his head slightly and said, "Like Philip, I understand your motives.
What I can't understand is how you forgot who your sister truly is.
Your mother used to worry about her—often apologizing for the things she said to my wife, to Abigail.
You knew exactly what she was capable of. "
He leaned forward slightly. "She has never cared about anyone but herself. And you knew it, Jasper. So how could your brain forget that?"
Jasper swallowed hard but didn't respond.
"You met your daughter today," Nathaniel said. "Congratulations. Now imagine someone doing to her what you did to my daughter."
That landed. Jasper's shoulders slumped as the breath left his lungs.
Nathaniel's eyes softened, but his voice remained steady.
"I want to protect my daughter—more than anything.
I want her to be the Abigail she was before all this—full of hope, full of life.
Every night, I pray she'll find her way back to that woman.
But the law isn't on my side. You're her husband, Emmeline's father.
You haven't done anything the law can punish.
So if you choose to come back into her life, there's nothing I can do to keep you away. "
He let that settle.
"But I'm asking you as her father—don't harm her further."
Jasper nodded slowly. "I do not wish to ever harm either of them again."
Nathaniel said nothing.
Jasper leaned forward. "I want to make amends.
I want to be a family. I love Abigail. And I love Emmeline now that I know of her.
I hope we can come to an arrangement—something that allows me to visit.
To show them I mean to do right by them.
Maybe, by being present, I can help ease some of the pain I caused. "
Nathaniel's gaze narrowed.
Jasper hesitated. "I know I don't have the right to hope. But I do. I hope that someday, we can be together. As we should have been."
He met Nathaniel's gaze. "I won't force it. That's not what I want. But I won't disappear, either. I can't. If we're to move forward—if we're to heal—I need to be present. That's the only way."
The fire popped in the hearth. The silence between them was heavy.
At last, Nathaniel said, "Come back in two days. At tea."
Jasper blinked. "You'll allow me to see them?"
"You may see them then," Nathaniel said. "Both of them."
A breath of disbelief, of fragile relief, left Jasper's chest. "Thank you."
Nathaniel didn't respond. He didn't nod.
He just stared at Jasper for a long, long moment.
A moment later, Jasper let himself out.
Nathaniel remained in the morning room, unmoving, his eyes fixed on the hearth. The fire had burned low. The warmth was fading.
Eventually, dinner was announced.
It was a quiet affair—muted, strained. Everyone kept to their own thoughts. Sophia barely touched her plate. Grace picked at hers in silence. Nathaniel's gaze wandered often to the doorway, though he couldn't say what he was hoping to see.
Martha brought Emmeline down halfway through, murmuring that Abigail had fallen asleep.
Afterward, Nathaniel retreated to his study.
He poured a glass of brandy and sat before the fire, its embers glowing dimly as the evening stretched on.
He weighed each thought carefully, trying to chart the right course forward—one that wouldn't send Abigail two steps back into the quiet, hollow place she had only just begun to leave.
Later, Martha found him still seated, brandy untouched.
"She wasn't sleeping," she said gently. "She just... slipped away again. Let the fog settle. Same way she used to, like at Greystone."
Nathaniel swallowed hard, nodding once.
"I was afraid of that," he said quietly.
Martha hesitated. "Will you let him come?"
"I have to," Nathaniel replied, voice low. "He'll be here in two days. She and Emmeline... he needs to see them."
He glanced down at the glass in his hand, then set it aside.
"I just keep thinking... if he really did come back for them, if he has a plan—then maybe..." He trailed off, brow furrowed. "Maybe he can bring her back to herself. Just enough. Long enough."
Martha said nothing. She simply laid a hand on his shoulder, gave it a light squeeze, and stepped away.
Nathaniel stayed by the fire until long after the last coal dimmed, chasing hope like smoke in the air.