Chapter 22 #2
“I… I guess I can.” Alastair shook himself, still looking dazed. “But I still don’t know what’s going on.”
“Just trust me on this,” Arabella said. “I know that’s a lot to ask, but if you can just do that…”
“Let’s go into the study,” Helena said quickly. “I think it’ll be easier if we do that. Then Alastair can write whatever he wants.”
The four of them made their way into the study, and Clara hovered by the door. Arabella watched as Alastair headed over to his desk. She wanted to follow him, to run her hands over his shoulders before embracing him. But she kept her thoughts to herself.
“So, you want me to write something for you.” Alastair sat down. “What is it? Just anything or something specific?”
“It’s this.” Arabella unfolded the letter from the inside of her glove, and placed it on the desk. “I want you to copy it.”
Alastair stared at the letter, his expression confused. He then looked up at Arabella, clearly trying to figure out what was going on.
“Is this…” He picked up the letter. “Is this a suicide note?”
“Just copy it, word for word.” Arabella folded her arms. “I’ll explain once you’ve done it.”
For a moment, she thought that Alastair wasn’t going to do it, but then he sighed and picked up a pen.
He bent his head and started to write, dipping his pen in the ink with the nib scratching across the paper.
The room was silent as he did this, Helena sitting in a chair by the empty fireplace, Clara by the door, and Arabella standing over the desk.
She could feel the nerves tingling at her skin, making her hairs stand on end.
She already knew the answer, but she had to be absolutely sure. It would give her comfort to know that she was right.
Finally, Alastair finished and sat back, staring at the note he’d been given in confusion.
“I don’t understand. Why would you want me to write out your father’s suicide note?”
Helena gasped, her face paling as her hand went to her mouth. Swallowing, Arabella took the notes.
“I don’t believe that Pa wrote this letter. I think someone else did.”
“And you think that might’ve been Alastair?” Helena sounded outraged. “Do you really believe he had something to do with it?”
“No, of course not. I just…” Arabella forced herself to look at Alastair, who was staring at her. “I just wanted to be sure. To confirm what I already knew.”
He didn’t say anything, simply regarding her with an expression she couldn’t read. Arabella felt the urge to cry well up inside her, and she bit her lip to stop the tears. She walked around the desk and stood by his chair.
“I can’t apologize enough for what happened, Alastair. What I’ve done… it’s unforgivable. If there’s anything you want me to do, even if it’s walking out of here and you never see me again, I’ll do it. Even if it means breaking my heart.”
Alastair was still silent to the point Arabella began to get nervous.
Then he stood and pulled her into his arms. Arabella thumped against his chest, feeling his arms tighten around her and a heavy breath exhaled from his lungs.
She squeezed her eyes shut and clung to his shirt, fighting back her tears.
She had hoped that he would forgive her, but it had been a small hope, and she didn’t think it would be enough.
This time, though, it seemed to be just that.
“I know you’ve been through a lot.” Alastair loosened his embrace and eased back to look at her, stroking her cheek. “And I wish you hadn’t had to see me getting dragged in by the magistrate, only to not be seen by him and spending the night in the cells.”
“That’s all he did to you?”
“Edmund came through for me, and I’m eternally grateful for that.” Alastair tilted his head to one side. “You say that you think your father didn’t write this note saying he was going to kill himself?”
“No. There’s something not right about it. I don’t believe it’s his handwriting.”
Helena stood and approached the desk. “May I see it?”
Clara frowned. “I don’t think you should see this, Helena. I’ve read it, and it’s pretty harrowing.”
“I’m not a child. I can handle it, and I might recognize the writing.”
Arabella glanced at Clara, who seemed to share her concern about the younger woman looking at the note. But Helena was standing there, holding out her hand and refusing to back down. Alastair looked worried as well. However, he nodded.
“I think she should read it. Like Helena said, she’s not a child. She can handle it.”
Arabella still hesitated, but she handed the note to Helena. She practically plucked it out of Arabella’s hand and started to read, pacing away with her head down. Then she stopped, and was silent for a moment. Arabella saw her shoulders tense, and she could feel something tighten in her chest.
She knew. Something had attracted her attention.
“Helena?”
“I think I might know this handwriting. It’s subtle, but I can see it.” Helena turned, her eyes wide as she looked at her brother. “What do you think? You saw the note as well.”
“I saw it, but it didn’t really register.” Alastair frowned. “What do you see?”
His sister didn’t respond, simply holding out a hand with the note.
Clearly confused, Alastair went to her and took the paper.
Arabella watched as he took a closer look, and he stilled.
It was subtle, but she could tell that he seemed to be frozen to the spot.
She glanced at Clara, and from the way she was staring at Alastair, she’d noticed it as well.
“What is it?” Arabella asked.
“I have seen this handwriting before. It’s very familiar to me.”
“What?” Clara stepped forward. “Where?”
Alastair looked up, his face ashen.
“It’s Sebastian’s.”