Chapter 22 #3
But he could not just sit here and do nothing! No doubt, Lady Beatrice had asked after him, and if he did not make himself known, that would raise further questions.
All that was to say that Marcus had no choice but to intervene.
Just remember to remain calm, Marcus. Go downstairs, greet her, then excuse yourself. Whatever you wish to say to Lucy, can be said later.
He breathed deeply, forcing calm, and then he hurried downstairs.
Marcus knew a little of Lucy’s upbringing, just as he knew a little of her relationship with her stepmother. For this reason, he doubted this visit would be a friendly one, and he reasoned that his intervention might be a good thing.
Also… and this was a thought he tried not to focus on too much… what if Lucy needed him? And what if, his stepping in was a chance for them to get past this last week?
If I am capable of such a thing.
It was when Marcus appeared at the doorway that he came to realize just how much he had underestimated Lucy and Lady Beatrice’s relationship.
“You were always an ungrateful little cretin,” Lady Beatrice said to Lucy. “Ever since you were a girl, nothing was ever good enough for you.”
“No!” Lucy cried. “That is not –”
“And you have always hated your sister.”
“You have!” Lady Amelia was there also, and she pointed an accusing finger at Lucy. “You have always been jealous of me. Admit it.”
“I am not jealous,” Lucy attempted. “I am only trying to help!”
“Help yourself, you mean,” Lady Beatrice said haughtily. “Oh, I should have known that this marriage would not change you. It has only made you worse.”
Marcus froze by the doorway.
He watched the scene unfold before him with a sense of horror. Seeing Lady Beatrice speak so cruelly to her daughter and seeing his wife plead without being given even an inch, took him back in ways he would sooner wish to avoid.
His own childhood washed over him. Memories of how his own mother and father used to speak to him battered at his conscience. They had hated him, he always assumed, and when he did something they did not approve of, they were sure to let him know it.
“Wait until your father hears of this,” Lady Beatrice sneered. “Not that he will be surprised.”
“Please!” Lucy begged. “You must listen to me!”
“And why would we? Why would we care for anything you had to say?”
Marcus balked… those memories still attacking him… fear enveloping him… reminders of who he was and how he had become as such. He knew of Lucy’s childhood, for she had told him. What he had not known was just how similar her own scars were to the ones he bore.
How is it that she is so much kinder than I? So much stronger? So much more willing to change and grow? She is a better person than I ever imagined. And me… I betrayed her.
He looked at his wife next. He saw the pain in her eyes. He saw not just someone who needed his help, but his wife, she who was mother to his adopted son, and she who needed his protection.
Marcus had been wrong about everything. His aversion to emotional availability. His refusal to accept his own feelings. And the absurd notion that he was better off on his own. Nobody was better off on their own, his wife especially. And that same wife needed him now… just as he needed her.
“What is this?” Marcus stormed into the room.
“Your Grace!” Lady Beatrice started in surprise. “What are you doing –”
“In my own home?” He walked right to where Lucy sat, he looked down at her with sympathy, and he rested a hand on her shoulder. She tensed at his touch, but she did not push him away. “Is that what you wish to ask me, Lady Beatrice? Surely, you can do better than that?”
Lady Beatrice’s upper lip curled, only for her to straighten it. The anger left her face, and she did her best to appear humbled. “It is good to see you, Your Grace. My daughter told me that you might pay us a visit when you had the chance.”
“Something that I doubt you are grateful for,” he said coldly.
“Excuse me?”
“This is not just my home, Lady Beatrice. It is my wife’s also.
And…” He found James sitting in the corner, chewing on…
he had no idea. He smiled at the sight, a warmth washing over him.
“And my son’s.” Next, he turned back to Lady Beatrice, and his expression was as cold as ice.
“And I would expect you to treat my wife with respect while in her home.”
Lady Beatrice balked. “I… we were merely having a conversation about –”
“I care not what it was about,” he spoke over her.
“It was the tone that worried me. Now, I might ask my dear wife if it was indeed a friendly conversation between mother and daughter, but I do not care.” He was sure to look right at Lady Beatrice, his hand still resting on Lucy’s shoulder.
“What I do care for, is to see the back of you. Now.”
“Wh – what?” Lady Beatrice stammered.
“Leave,” he said. “Both of you. I will not accept my wife being spoken like that to by anyone. She is twice the woman you are, which I confess might be a small order as you, Lady Beatrice, are little more to me than the filth one finds on their shoes after a day spent trudging through mud.”
Lucy gasped, but she did not speak up to stop him, nor did she remove his hand from her shoulder. If anything, she seemed to relax into it.
“I… how dare you!” Lady Beatrice cried. “You cannot speak to me like this.”
“I just did. Now, leave!”
Thankfully, Lady Beatrice was nowhere near as stubborn as she might have been. Seeing that she had no leg to stand on, while clearly taking note of Marcus’ anger, she indicated to her daughter and the two women were quick to hurry from the room.
At the doorway, she dared a final look at the scene that she was leaving behind. Marcus kept his hand on Lucy’s shoulder, and he narrowed his eyes at Lady Beatrice and her daughter, daring them to say one more thing.
They did not, of course. If anything, the sight of the three of them together appeared to repulse them. As if such a thing was unimaginable, and forced to face it, running was a better option.
Well… that went about as well as it could have, and I cannot wait to see what the ton makes of it. Nothing good, I am sure.
Marcus also did not care. He had spent the last two weeks fighting his feelings for Lucy. He told himself he wanted nothing to do with her, that he did not care for her at all, and that he was better on his own. He had needed to believe it.
Now, in one fell swoop, those lies shattered, the walls around him crumbled, and what was left was… he could not say. He felt vulnerable. He felt exposed. And he felt like a new man for the first time in his life.
Only then, he looked down at Lucy. He saw her furrowed brow, her confused stare, paired with a sense that she did not understand what had just happened. Worse still, he knew that their woes would not be fixed nearly so easily.
It was time that they had a serious conversation. It was time that Marcus was honest with his wife for the first time ever… just as he needed to be honest with himself.