Chapter 18 #2
He swallowed hard, not realizing that his cheeks were damp. Sitting back again, he finally noticed how his body was reacting. His chest was tight, his breathing was shallow, and his hands were shaking. He wiped his face.
This is ridiculous. I’m crying over a bump.
But it had never been just a bump.
As the driver took him around Hyde Park, he could hear people walking in the rain. A child laughed. A mother scolded her daughter for getting wet. A father grabbed his wife and child to run indoors with them.
He was meant to be reading, and yet he couldn’t help but miss that chaos. His heart longed to be one of those parents with a child in the rain. To wrap his arm around his wife and usher her inside.
“Take me home,” he called out to the driver.
“We’ve barely left, Your Grace.”
“I said, take me home!” Laurence snapped. He grimaced as he realized his mistake. “I’m…”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the driver called back.
Laurence dropped his head in his hands. This was getting out of control.
He needed to go home. He needed peace and quiet. And a large glass of brandy.
Maybe two.
No, definitely two.
The driver brought him back swiftly. Laurence ignored the confused looks of the servants and pulled off his sodden boots before pulling on his house slippers. He trudged up to his chambers and threw himself onto the bed.
He could hear the servants coming in and awkwardly unpacking around him. He didn’t even look up.
He spent the next day in a haze. Once again, he found himself sitting in his study, looking at the ledgers while it rained outside.
Once again, he found himself unable to write.
The letters swirled on the page before combining into a puddle of ink.
He would blink to refocus. The letters would retreat and then shift.
“You should rest.” Edith’s voice echoed in his mind.
I feel like I’ve done nothing but rest.
“What you’ve been doing doesn’t appear very restful.”
He groaned and leaned back in his chair. “I am losing my mind,” he muttered.
Before he could sink further into his thoughts, a sharp knock at the front door caught his attention. He sat there, hoping that if everyone ignored it, the person would grow tired and leave.
The continued banging on the door swiftly proved him wrong.
He heard the front door click open. A muffled exchange between the person and a maid drifted to his ears. He couldn’t make out the words, but he could hear James’s laughter. It grated on his nerves.
A few moments later, the maid knocked on the study door.
“Your Grace,” she said. “Lord Mallowby is here.”
“I see,” he said, rising from his desk.
“Should I send him away?”
“No,” he sighed. “I’ll do it myself.”
Laurence walked downstairs, his boots thudding on the wooden stairs. Usually, he would have relished James’s company. Today, he just wanted to be alone.
“Well, well, well,” James drawled from the parlor doorway. “It feels as if it has been an age since we last spoke, old friend.”
“Good afternoon to you, too, Lord Mallowby,” Laurence greeted.
James frowned at the sight of him. “My, when was the last time you slept, Your Grace?” he asked.
“Last night,” Laurence replied, stifling a yawn.
“Let me rephrase,” James said. “When was the last time you slept well?”
Laurence opened his mouth and then closed it.
“Actually, I think I can guess,” James said. “The night before the event?”
“Possibly.” Laurence scowled. “Listen, Mallowby. You know I enjoy your company, but as you can see, I am not up for receiving guests.”
“Oh, you don’t need to do anything special for me.”
“I am not saying that I will do anything special,” Laurence huffed. “I am asking you to leave.”
“You have a lovely parlor,” James said, walking into the parlor. Laurence frowned. “I would like to know who designed it. I am helping Lady Mary move into a new townhouse, and I would like to help her make it a home.”
“Did you not hear what I said?”
“No, I heard.” James looked around the room. “I just know that if I listen to you and leave, then you will continue…” He looked at Laurence. “Moping.”
“I do not mope,” Laurence growled.
“I am afraid if you believe that, then you have little self-awareness.”
“Leave me be, Mallowby,” Laurence groaned.
“So soon after I’ve arrived?” James tutted. “It is very rude for a host to turn away his dear friend so quickly.”
“Now isn’t a good time.”
“And where is your wife?”
Laurence hesitated.
James raised an eyebrow, the silence stretching out between them uncomfortably. Laurence pursed his lips. Still, James folded his arms, waiting for an answer.
“Her Grace is not here,” Laurence finally replied.
“And why would that be?” James asked as he sat down. He looked much too comfortable sitting in Laurence’s space.
Laurence gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to explain himself.
“That is none of your concern.”
“It is when my friend is once again becoming a self-destructive hermit.”
“I am not.”
“Lying is a sin, Your Grace,” James sighed dramatically.
“You’ve never struck me as much of a pious man,” Laurence said, raising an eyebrow.
“I will use whatever skills or excuses I have to get you to be honest with me.” James shrugged.
“Well, as of right now, I am not open to visitors, so if you could please just leave me be.”
“No,” James said, stretching out his limbs.
“No?” Laurence frowned.
“Not until you talk to me.”
“You are an infuriating man,” Laurence growled.
“And yet I am the only person you have kept around over the years,” James pointed out.
“I wasn’t exactly left with much choice in the matter,” Laurence grumbled.
“But when you had the choice to keep someone around who made you happy, you chased them away,” James said calmly.
Laurence felt a vein pulse in his forehead. “Excuse me?”
“You are excused,” James said, sitting forward. “Where is she?”
“Am I really being interrogated?”
“Until you give me an honest answer, yes!” James snapped.
“She is not here!”
“Why not?”
“I don’t…”
“You don’t know?” James scoffed. “Then let me enlighten you! You chased her away because you couldn’t handle your pride.”
“My what?”
“Your pride! If you have let her help you, shown some humility and grace, then perhaps she would still be here,” James sneered.
“That is hardly the issue!” Laurence shouted.
“Really?!” James snapped back. “Because from my standpoint, you finally had a woman who would tolerate you. More than that. Anyone could see that Her Grace and Tilly loved you deeply. Then, you have one bad night, and what? You decide you cannot love them back?”
“It was not just one night.”
“Oh, no, these things are never just a one-off. But that means you need to work harder to be a decent husband!”
“And you would know about that?” Laurence huffed.
“I seem to be the only one learning from your mistakes.”
“I am protecting them,” Laurence said.
“By making them so miserable that fleeing was the only option?”
“They are not miserable.”
“I would have thought you, out of all people, would understand the pain that having a cruel and cold father could cause.”
Laurence’s heart stuttered in his chest. “Don’t bring my father into this conversation,” he hissed.
“Do you want Miss Tilly to have a cruel, cold, distant father?”
“That…” Laurence stammered. “That’s not…”
“That is exactly what you are doing,” James said. “I do not know what has gotten into you, but you are hurting those two women very deeply in many ways. If you ever want them to have a stable, loving home, then you need to repair the damage you have caused.”
“But what if by doing that, I hurt them in worse ways?” Laurence asked defiantly.
“What if you don’t?”
Laurence blinked. Every time he thought of the future, he could only see the ways in which he hurt the people he loved.
“I…”
“You have two options, Your Grace,” James said. “You can either keep hurting them, as you are doing now, or you can repair the damage and make amends so you don’t hurt them again.”
Silence stretched between them. Laurence looked away, unable to come to terms with what James had said.
“Do not meddle in my life, Mallowby.”
“I will meddle as much as I need to.”
“Mallowby,” Laurence hissed. “You are making it rather difficult for us to stay friends.”
“Who else do you have, Your Grace?”
“See here, Mallowby—”
“You’ve been running from ghosts for years, Your Grace. Your outburst at your wife’s event showed that you’re still running. One day, you may find that you have no one to run back to,” James warned as he stood up.
“Out!” Laurence shouted.
James looked at him defiantly and then sighed. “Fine,” he said, marching out of the room.
As he approached the front door, he glanced back at Laurence before walking out.
Laurence groaned and sank down into a chair. He hated to admit it, but James was right. He often was in ways that Laurence didn’t like to contemplate.
He threw his arm over his eyes, too fatigued to even tolerate daylight.
Would the day come when he also pushed James away?