Chapter 21
“Y ou are speaking very fast, Leander,” Tobias said carefully, as he stood in the large chamber in Heron House that he used to keep his printing press.
Leander stilled, those words striking terror straight through his heart. “Am I?” he queried with a lightness he suddenly did not feel.
He forced himself to examine Tobias’s face. The man’s brow was furrowed, and his eyes were worried. His brother-in-law was tense as he stood by his printing press.
“You are,” Tobias confirmed. “Can you slow down? I can’t follow you very well at present. Your thoughts are very rapid. Did you drink too much coffee this morning?”
“Yes,” Leander said swiftly. “That’s exactly it. Too much coffee.”
And he let out a laugh. It rang hollow to his ears.
For it wasn’t true. Leander was very careful about how much coffee he consumed because he had, in the past, been sent into a spiral by over-imbibing in the liquid, which would sometimes cause over-stimulation. It was why he was also very careful about drinking alcohol. In general, he had to be cautious about whatever he put into his system so that he could maintain an equilibrium. Well, at least an equilibrium for someone like himself, who was already extremely exuberant and passionate about life.
This was not good. He had certain warning signs that things were about to go awry, and speaking swiftly, too swiftly—so swiftly that someone liked Tobias noticed—was certainly one of them.
He swallowed. “Do I seem particularly intense?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“You do,” Tobias said he picked up a letter block. “Of course, this is one of your most passionate projects. I know how it matters to you to try to stop corruption in Parliament.”
“Yes,” he affirmed even as his stomach began to turn with dread.
He forced himself not to wince outwardly, but inside he began to panic and because of that panic, he could feel his heart rate begin to accelerate. Damn and blast!
If he was speaking particularly intensely, that too was a sign that things were about to go awry like a ship without a mast or a rudder. He was about to turn into a storm and would not be able to steer, and so he had to strap himself to the deck, so to speak, and pray and wait until the storm passed. It also meant he needed to get out quickly before too many people, other than his family, saw him like this.
He had learned long ago to be particularly sensitive to comments like this. That way he could get himself out of a ball, of a party, of a racecourse, or even the House of Lords in time.
Tobias cocked his head to the side. “Are you all right? You seem different. Distressed.”
“Oh, well, of course I am distressed. It’s this whole matter of Parliament refusing to act. Everything is going wrong. France is aflame. The king is in crisis. I must go,” he said abruptly.
Tobias reached out to him. “You can tell me if something is wrong.”
“Oh, no,” Leander rushed, raising his hands. “Everything is quite fine. It’s nothing that a good boxing match won’t help.”
“Would you like me to come?” Tobias offered, placing his letter block down.
“No. No,” he said, swallowing. That was the very last thing he needed. “I will be well.”
Determined not to utter another word, Leander dashed from the room. He had to find Hartigan Mulvaney. Maybe a good beating would do it, but then again, it could make it worse. But he didn’t wish to leave Heron House.
Still, he knew what he needed to do. He couldn’t go out on the streets of London because sometimes if he got swept up in these extremely high emotions and became extremely excited about certain things, he would make impulsive decisions that were not necessarily dangerous but certainly not good for him or anyone else. And he had been able to stop himself from doing those sorts of things by immediately putting himself in seclusion. A sort of self-created prison.
He should go down to the country immediately. He needed to find his mother and tell her what was transpiring, and with that thought, he also knew he needed to find his wife. He could not disappear without telling her.
He had to at least have the courage to say goodbye to her until he came out on the other side of this.
Leander charged through the halls, tearing left to right, going at a pace that was fast even for himself, but his heartbeat was kicking up a notch again. The intensity of everything was beginning to pummel through him. Everything seemed brighter, everything seemed more important, and he knew it was one of his episodes taking over. He grimaced. If he just held tight, if he just breathed, all would be well. It would pass. They always passed. He had learned that years ago, and so he did not fear. But he also knew that after this remarkable high, he would feel a terrible low, and that always took time to recover from.
Why was this happening now? He had just married. He should be… Of course. Of course. It was because he had married. He should have known. It didn’t always matter if it was a good or a bad thing, but when dramatic change happened in his life, it could cause an onset. He turned the corner and ran right into his mother.
The dowager duchess looked at him. She did not even need to say a word. Her eyes widened, then softened. “Oh, my dear,” she said. “Are you going down to the country?”
He gave a tight nod. “Yes, Mama. Immediately.”
“Would you like me to come with you?” she whispered.
Leander shook his head. “No, Mama, I shall be all right. I need to go tell Mercy.”
“Yes, of course, my dear. Perhaps you should let her go with you.”
“No, I don’t want her to see me like this,” he bit out, horrified. He could not let her see how weak he could become.
His mother’s face creased with worry. “Leander, at some point she’s going to have to see you like—”
“See you like what?” a voice called from the other side of the hall.
He cringed inwardly. No. Dear God, no. He could not let her see the truth! Not all of it. Not yet. She was supposed to see him as her knight. As someone who protected her, as someone who made her happy, who did all the things in the world to make her life better. Not someone who needed to be closeted and taken care of and have his hand held as if he were a small child, but he could not stop what was happening to him.
Slowly, he turned to his beautiful, bold wife. He dug his nails into his palms to help him focus. “Do you remember I told you I have struggles?”
She took a step forward, her face pale, her eyes wide with concern. “I do.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m going through one of those struggles right now.”
She nodded. “I see.”
And apparently she did, which only made him feel worse. Was it so very obvious when he was like this to everyone but himself? Yes. Perhaps it was.
“What is wrong?” she asked.
“No one knows exactly,” he ground out. “There’s no name for it. My grandfather had it too,” he said, rattling away.
“My dears, I will leave you to discuss this,” his mother said diplomatically, “but if you have any questions, Mercy, you can always ask me.”
Mercy’s face was now a mask of resolved worry. Even so, she nodded. “Thank you.”
His mother took his hand for a brief moment, then squeezed it. “Be brave, my love,” she said before she rushed away.
“Tell me more,” Mercy urged in the shadowy hallway.
“I need to leave,” he said, his voice strident to his own ears. “I need to go down to the country, and I need to be by myself.”
“By yourself,” she echoed, her voice rising with panic. “You’re leaving me?”
“Only for a little bit of time until I am right again,” he assured.
“What does that mean? Right again?” She sucked in a breath. “What is about to happen?”
How he longed to run away. To keep it from her. But she was his wife. And he was no coward. He had to face it. Didn’t he?
“This is what happens,” he said, feeling as if he was beginning to rattle apart, as if his thoughts were beginning to whir like one of the strange machines he had seen in cotton mills up north with pieces and cogs moving at an impossible speed. “I think very rapidly, talk very rapidly. I make everything far more intense than it really is. I shall become extremely passionate about any particular subject, and it will seem like I am in a fever,” he said. “I don’t hurt anyone. I don’t do anything terrible, but to outsiders, it’s not good,” he said tightly. “And then as soon as that burns through me, I am struck by an impossible low. One that sometimes feels like I cannot crawl out of it, but I always do, and I don’t want you to see me like that. I truly, genuinely do not want you to see me like that,” he gritted.
“But you’re my husband,” she countered, her eyes shining now with emotion and unshed tears.
“Please,” he said. “I can go alone—”
“Leander,” she cut in and stepped forward, “when you told me you had struggles and difficulties, that was good, and I’m glad you told me. We all have struggles, and if this is yours, I will stand by you. You stood by me with my parents. They called me a traitor to your face. Now, you will let me go with you. Do you understand me?”
He gaped at her, stunned. “Yes. I understand.”
She lifted her chin. “Good. Now we shall get our things, and we shall go.”
He was always the one taking care of everyone. But in that moment, he felt safer and more loved than he ever had. In that moment, he realized that even though his family loved him, he had been terrified that he would never be good enough for someone else to.