Chapter 22 #2
“Are we going home, or aren’t we?” she demanded. “I am cold and hungry. Let’s go.”
Christian watched as Thalia clambered out of the carriage. There was a distant, inward-looking expression on her face. She shot him a quick glance but did not meet his eyes.
They had stopped in front of her house, and a quick glance up at the building assured him that there were no lights on in any of the windows. They had made it just in time.
By his calculations, it was somewhere before four o’clock in the morning. That meant that within the next hour, or perhaps even half an hour, at least one servant would be up and about.
A scullery maid, likely, going about to light the fires before the family woke up. Then the cook, then the kitchen maids, and so on. In short, this was the last half-hour in which she could be reasonably certain of returning to her room without being caught.
He watched her disappear into the darkness, scurrying towards the house. Then, once she was gone, he turned back to the carriage. His horse was hitched up behind the cab, which would allow him to ride inside.
There was a conversation he needed to have with his sister.
The door closed behind him, before the carriage lurched forward. Silence fell over them.
“So,” he said, finding Laura’s eyes in the gloom, “tell me everything.”
“Christian…”
“Thalia is not here. I can only assume that you didn’t want to tell the full story in front of her. You’re my sister, Laura. I know you better than you think.”
Do I? Or has she changed when I wasn’t looking?
There was a long silence while Laura nibbled on her lower lip, staring out the window.
“So, you and Thalia are getting married,” she murmured.
He clenched his jaw. “Yes.”
“How did that come about?”
“We struck a bargain. But then I was foolish enough to kiss her in a pub in full view of a woman like Lady Pembroke, and now news of it will be all over London. Our faux betrothal must become a real one.”
“I see. Thalia is my friend, you know. I don’t want her to be hurt.”
“Not a good enough friend for you to tell her where you were going or why you were going,” he shot back. “She was worried about you, too.”
Laura had the grace to blush. In her lap, her hands were knotted together.
“I wanted to bring your son back,” she blurted out. “That was why I couldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t dare tell you. I knew you’d forbid me, and I didn’t want to give you false hope in any case.”
Christian felt as though his chest were being crushed.
“My son is dead, Laura. You know that. He and his mother have been dead for a long time.”
She closed her eyes. “I had reason to believe that they weren’t, but now I’m not sure. I investigated but discovered nothing. I don’t know either way. I failed you, Christian.”
Blood roared in his ears. “They’re dead, Laura.”
“I think Father lied,” she admitted.
A long silence stretched out between them, the air crisp and taut.
“What?” Christian choked out.
She dug into her pocket and took out an old, yellowed letter. “I found this in Father’s old room, hidden away. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that Sophie’s handwriting?”
Christian stared down at the letter until his vision blurred. It was Sophie’s handwriting, a painstaking scrawl of looping, rounded letters.
The letter was short, informing somebody that they had arrived safely and that all was well. There was an address at the bottom, an unfamiliar place that he had never heard of.
They.
“I could not find the place mentioned in the address. I found old maps and paintings in the Castwell Art Gallery; that was how I knew what sort of place I was looking for and roughly where it was. I kept my investigation secret.”
“So you did.”
“Look at the date,” Laura whispered.
Through blurred eyes, Christian glanced at the date carefully inscribed at the top of the letter. Sure enough, it was dated a week after the old Duke had told him that they were dead.
“I don’t understand,” he rasped.
“I think that Father wanted them cut off from you. He knew that you’d never forget them, but if he convinced you that they were dead, that would be that.
You’d make no effort to be a part of your son’s life.
You’d never want to see Sophie again. As for Sophie, I don’t understand why she agreed.
But then, she was always a very practical woman. ”
The silence hung in the air once more, heavy and taut.
“But you didn’t find them?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I thought that I could bring them back before the anniversary of their death. I thought it would be nice. It took a while and a good deal of searching before I found a lead. And when I got there, I found out that Sophie was dead.”
He flinched. “For real, this time?”
Laura nodded. “A fever, I was told. Several years ago. Her son disappeared at the same time, and nobody was sure whether he’d fallen to the same fever or some other fate. So, you see, I failed. I learned nothing, except that Father lied and they lived much longer than he said.”
Christian leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and dropped his face into his hands. “My son lived for years after I thought he was dead,” he whispered, choking up.
“I was only trying to help,” Laura stammered, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. “At least, you know that he had a few happy years. They didn’t die in such an awful accident. They were happy for a while. And when you have more children—”
“I won’t.”
“But… but you’re marrying Thalia.”
He straightened up, dropping his hands to his lap. “It’s not that kind of marriage, Laura. I’m not that kind of man.”
She frowned. “You ought to give yourself a chance at a new life.”
“And you ought to mind your own business. I wish you’d never unearthed all of this, Laura.”
She hung her head. “I… I thought you’d be happy. If I could bring them back, you know. Besides, I know that you care for Thalia. She—”
“Care for her? And how did you guess that?”
Laura blinked, frowning. “I was in that pub, remember? I was on my way home, by the way, so don’t scold me. You looked as though you were about to devour her in front of everyone.”
“Nonsense.”
“I know how babies are made, Christian. There was a distinctly hungry look in your eyes.”
He stared out the window, refusing to meet her stare.
“Thalia was kind enough to help me find you,” he said shortly.
“For your sake, not mine, and in exchange for my help. I’ll keep my word and hold up my end of the bargain, but that’s all there’ll ever be between us.
You’d do well to accept that now, Sister. ”
Laura stared at him for a long moment, eyes narrowed. Christian forced himself to meet her gaze. After all, he and his sister had been strangers for so long.
It was high time to get reacquainted. They’d have to present a united front to Society in any case after her scandalous disappearance.
Most people would not believe the ‘visiting a cousin’ story.
It smacked of lies. And perhaps if he’d known Laura a little better in the first place, he would have found it easier to find her.
She was trying to help. Trying to bring my son back. It’s not her fault that he’s dead after all.
“Very well,” she said shortly. “Keep telling yourself that you do not care for Thalia. Perhaps if you’re determined enough, it might even become true.”