Chapter 18
Tobias felt the tension in the air the moment Viola stepped into the grove. The sky seemed to dim as she approached them, her eyes sweeping over them in a cool and deliberate glare.
Beside him, Miss Marwood went still. He could hear her inhale sharply, but there was no other movement. The sight hit him hard. A surge of anger rose first because she should never have had to brace herself like that. Then guilt followed because he was responsible for putting that look on her face.
He wished he could speak to her without an audience, even for a moment, to tell her she had done nothing wrong.
But Viola’s presence made that impossible.
He kept his posture firm, hoping she would draw some reassurance from it.
He knew she was bracing for whatever came next, and the knowledge unsettled.
He quickly turned his attention back to Viola. He forced himself to meet her eyes, unwilling to let her see any uncertainty. She thrived on hesitation, and he refused to give her that advantage.
“Leave,” he said, his voice stern but controlled. “This is a private matter. It does not concern you.”
Viola arched her eyebrow, her expression sinister and triumphant. “On the contrary, Tobias, it concerns me very much.”
His heart pounded as he clenched his jaw and took a step forward. “I said leave.”
“I am not going anywhere,” she said defiantly. “I heard everything. Every word. Including the part where you said that you had kissed her.”
He glanced toward Miss Marwood before he could stop himself and saw her flinch. It was a small, quick movement that he might have missed if he had not been looking at her. Seeing her unease made him feel even worse. He turned his full attention back to Viola.
“You have no right …” he began.
“I have every right,” Viola said, her tone bordering on shrill. “I cannot stand by while you destroy your family’s name.” She took a step closer, her eyes narrowing. “While you finish the job your brother started.”
Tobias felt the words strike him with such force that his breath shortened and his middle tightened at once, almost as if he had been punched.
She keeps insinuating that I will become like my brother, but I will not. I just proved it. I just told Miss Marwood it was a mistake, he thought, bitterness rising fast. I said it as if I believed it. I denied what I felt. I pushed her away to prove once and for all that I am nothing like him.
The guilt surged, sharp and immediate. His brother’s face flashed in his mind, laughing, stubborn, defiant, and then the memory of every moment he had turned away. Every letter unanswered. Every chance to reach out ignored. When his brother needed him, he had not reached out.
He stared at the ground because he could not look anywhere else. Not at Miss Marwood, not at Viola, just at the dirt beneath his feet. His legs felt unsteady beneath him, and he could not move.
He tried to draw a breath that might bring some relief, but the air felt thin. The weight of her accusation pressed on him, and he could not decide whether anger or regret held him more firmly. He kept his eyes on the ground, hoping the moment would pass before he lost control of his voice.
Viola stepped closer, her eyes flashing and her voice low and merciless. “Your brother threw away his duty for a common girl. And look where it led him. Look what it did to this family. And now you …”
Tobias forced the word out. “Enough,” but the sound emerged thin and unsteady.
Miss Marwood stepped forward, the dry branches beneath her shoes giving a sharp crunch that broke through the quiet.
Her movement startled him. He had not expected her to intervene, especially not with such resolve. The sound of her voice cut through the tension, and he felt a quiet surge of gratitude.
Her voice shook, but she held her shoulders back as she stared at Viola. “Leave.”
Viola turned toward her at once, her glare sharp and astonished. “Excuse me?”
“I said leave. You had your chance, but your presence here now is inappropriate. Leave.” She did not back away, and her voice grew stronger with every word.
Viola’s eyes widened, outrage flickering across her face. “You forget yourself, Miss Marwood. You are a piano teacher. You do not order me anywhere.”
“I am aware of my position,” Miss Marwood said, her voice steadier now. “And I am aware of yours. But I also know that you have said your piece, and now it is time to go.”
Viola let out a short, merciless laugh. “Oh, my dear girl. You truly know nothing.”
“I know enough,” Miss Marwood said, narrowing her eyes.
He saw the shift in Viola’s posture and recognized the moment she prepared to strike with something far more pointed. He opened his mouth to stop her, but the words came too slowly. He felt the dread rise before she even spoke, knowing she had saved her sharpest blow for last.
“No,” Viola said, taking a step forward, her voice cutting and sure. “You do not even know who ruined your life.”
The sound of Viola’s words and the sight of Miss Marwood standing up for him pushed life back into Tobias’s limbs. He stepped forward, placing himself between them, as if he could shield Miss Marwood from whatever Viola intended to say next.
“Viola, stop,” he said, tone forceful.
She ignored him as she looked around him and stared at Miss Marwood. Her expression sharpened until it became almost triumphant, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment.
“It was the Fairbournes who lent your father the money,” she said, her voice cutting through the air icily.
Cecily gasped, but Viola continued, stepping forward as though delivering a final, irrefutable truth.
“The loan that destroyed him? The loan that killed him?” Her eyes narrowed. “It was Tobias’s father who ruined your family.”
She let the words hang there, watching Cecily’s face closely, almost hungrily, waiting to see the exact moment the meaning struck.
“You never wondered who held the note?” she added, her tone dripping with false pity. “You never questioned why your father could not escape it? It was this house. This family.”
Tobias heard Miss Marwood gasp behind him. The sound was small but sharp enough to cut through everything else. He glared at Viola for a brief moment before he turned around. He saw Miss Marwood a few steps behind him, the color draining from her face as she considered Viola’s last words.
“No,” she whispered. “No, that cannot be true.”
She looked at him then, her eyes wide and searching, as though she were trying to find something in him, be it denial, comfort, or any sign that what she had just heard was not true.
He could not hide the truth, so he simply held her gaze.
Her eyes widened. “You knew.”
He felt the accusation settle between them. He wanted to explain that he had learned the truth only recently and that he had not known how to tell her, but the words felt inadequate. He reached for her, anyway, hoping she might see the sincerity in his face.
“Cecily,” he said, “please.”
“You knew,” she repeated, her voice trembling. “And you kept it from me.”
He stepped toward her, desperate to explain, but she pulled back as if his touch would burn her.
The hurt in her eyes completely shattered him. It was worse than any injury he had ever endured.
She turned and ran, her skirts trailing behind her in a rush of movement. Her footsteps struck the wet grass in uneven bursts, each one carrying her farther from them. She did not look back as she pushed on, fleeing toward the house with a desperate, stumbling urgency.
Viola’s laugh followed her, soft and triumphant, echoing through the trees long after Miss Marwood had disappeared.
Tobias took one step behind her, then another, desperate to go after her. He wanted to explain, to try to undo even a fraction of the pain on her face. But when he called her name, she turned back only long enough to stop him.
“Do not follow me.”
He stood frozen for a moment, unable to draw a full breath.
The shock held him upright only long enough for his strength to completely slip out from under him.
His legs buckled, and he dropped to the ground, the wet earth soaking through his trousers at once.
His breath came in ragged, uneven bursts.
She will never forgive you, he thought.
A soft rustle came from behind him. Tobias stiffened, turning just enough to see Viola step closer, her movements slow and steady, her voice dropping into a low, coaxing tone as though she meant to draw him back to her side.
He did not move. The sound of her skirts brushing the ground grew nearer until she stopped beside him.
She lowered herself with careful grace, kneeling next to him as if she had every right to be there, her presence pressing in on him while he struggled to steady his breath.
“Tobias. You must forget about that girl.”
He did not look at her. He dragged a hand over his face, forcing himself back into control.
He reminded himself that losing his composure would only give Viola more influence.
He needed to think clearly, yet his thoughts felt scattered.
He tried to focus on the immediate moment rather than the pain pressing in from every side.
He lowered his hand slowly, determined not to let her see the depth of his turmoil.
“She is a commoner,” Viola said, each word forceful, slowly stating a fact she believed he had been too foolish to accept.
Tobias’s jaw tightened, but she pressed on.
“This was always doomed, and you know it. There is no way she could ever forgive you for what happened to her father.
He flinched. “Do not speak of her.”
“I must,” she said, leaning towards him. “You must give up all thoughts of her and do what is right and responsible.”
He shook his head, but she continued, softening her voice until she sounded almost tender.
“Put her out of your thoughts and marry me instead. Join our houses. It is the only sensible course.”
Tobias sighed, but did not speak.
“Your estate has been suffering,” Viola said, her voice now barely above a whisper. “You know it.”
“What are you talking about?” Tobias asked, confusion tightening his voice. “The estate is not in ruin.”
Cecily let out a quiet breath. “You do not know the half of it. You clearly have not been paying attention.”
He stared at her, taken aback by the certainty in her tone.
“My family’s resources could resolve everything,” she said. “You would not have to struggle. You would not have to fear losing what your father built.”
His head snapped up as anger surged through him.
“What are you talking about? What have you been up to?”
She blinked, startled. “Up to?”
“You said I have not been paying attention,” he pressed, his voice tightening. “So tell me what I have missed. I know something is going on. Do not pretend otherwise.”
Her expression shifted, but she did not answer quickly enough.
“What about Creed?” Tobias demanded. “What has he been doing? What has he been doing on my land in the dead of night?
Viola’s eyes widened at once, a quick, involuntary flicker of surprise breaking across her expression. For a moment, she looked almost innocent, the very picture of a woman affronted by an unjust accusation. She drew herself up with practiced composure.
“Nothing. Silas is loyal. He would never act without my instruction.”
“That is not an answer,” Tobias said, narrowing his eyes.
“I have done nothing,” she insisted. “I swear it.”
He stared at her, searching her face for truth, but his thoughts were too tangled and raw to settle on anything certain.
The rush of anger gave him enough strength to brace a hand against the ground and push himself upright.
He rose without wavering this time, finding his balance at once.
Viola stood as well, lifting herself with her usual grace.
Tobias turned and took a few steps away from her.
She is right about one thing. Cecily will never forgive you now. You have ruined any chance you had.
The realization made him feel sick.
He heard Viola step closer behind him, the soft scuffle of her shoes against the damp ground giving her away.
Tobias turned, looking down at her, his breath still uneven from everything that had just unfolded.
She lifted her chin and met his gaze, her expression composed and her eyes steady.
Then she reached up and placed her hand on his arm, her touch light but deliberate.
“You need stability,” she said, her voice soft but certain. “You need a partner who can help you protect your family’s legacy. Marrying me is the sensible course.”
Sensible. Practical. Expected.
He felt the words settle over him like a shroud.
And could not see a way out.