Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
“There is something I must tell you, Your Grace.” Mr. Marrow found Rhys sitting in the drawing room.
It was early that same evening that Rose had come to visit, and with his depression at an all-time high, Rhys decided that the only means to cure it was with a drink… and several more.
What he ought to have been doing was trying to coax Lucy into trusting him. The little girl was still distraught, and Rose’s visit had only made it worse. But every time that he considered applying himself to the task, he found himself reaching for excuses to avoid her.
He had failed Lucy, was why. Bringing her into his home, Rhys had believed that he was doing the right thing. He was so sure that if he offered her a place to live, a future that she did not have, that it would be enough. Security and protection… was that not what a child needed?
What Rhys had since come to realize about himself was that he was a fraud.
It was never about Lucy; not really. From the very beginning, it had always been about Eleanor and what he had done.
Believing that he could absolve himself of his sins if he helped another, he had brought Lucy into his home not because it was the right thing to do, but because he needed to feel better about himself.
Worse still, he had managed to drive away the one person who did care. Violet loved Lucy; she wanted to help the girl because it was right, and Rhys had spurned her for reasons that made no real sense now that they had come to pass.
I am not father material, and I certainly do not deserve to be loved.
As to what he would do about Lucy? That, he could not say. He still wanted to give the little girl the life that she deserved, but he was terrified that in so doing he would only further prove what he knew about himself. She would never love him, and maybe that was for the best.
“What is it, Mr. Marrow,” Rhys sighed as he had a sip of brandy. “I am rather busy.”
“Two things, Your Grace.” Mr. Marrow waded into the depths of the drawing room. “Firstly, you should know that Lucy has been put to bed. She was rather tired after the events of today, and she sleeps soundly.”
Rhys found himself smiling at that. “Good. I am glad to hear it. And thank you, Mr. Marrow, for looking after her. I know I ought to, but…” He winced. “These things are for the best.”
“She will come around,” Mr. Marrow said gently. “She is upset today, but you are her father, Your Grace. And she knows it.”
He scoffed. “I am hardly that. Violet was—”
“Her mother,” Mr. Marrow cut over him. “But a girl needs a mother and a father. And where one is absent, the other must rise in her place. I am sure that come tomorrow, Lucy will want you to be with her.”
Rhys sighed with despair and had another sip of brandy. The words were kindly spoken, but he did not believe them.
“You said there were two things.”
Mr. Marrow nodded and then his expression grew determined. “I was not sure if I ought to bring this to your attention, Your Grace. But with Her Grace having left, I believe that I must.”
“What is it?” Rhys noticed the fight raging behind Mr. Marrow’s eyes; as if he was not sure if this was right, but was determined to believe that it must be. “What happened?”
“The day before Her Grace left, she had me…” He clicked his tongue and then nodded firmly. “She was curious about your sister, Your Grace. And more curious still about her child.”
Rhys winced and had a hasty sip of brandy. “And your point?”
“She asked that she be shown everything we had uncovered about the possible whereabouts of the missing child, the orphanages that we visited, and everything that we learned.”
“She did?” he blinked. “Why would she…”
“I cannot say why, Your Grace. What I do know, however, is that she found something that we missed. There was one orphanage, St. Clair’s, that we paid a visit to—”
“And it had burned down, if my memory serves. What of it?”
“We might have had the wrong orphanage, Your Grace.”
Rhys sat up. “What?”
“There were two St. Clair’s,” Mr. Marrow explained. “The mistake was made on account of the address of them both. They were similar, easy to mistake. Also, that was towards the end of our search, by which point…” He winced. “By which point, we believed the child to have died.”
Rhys stared blankly at Mr. Marrow, unable to believe what he was hearing, and unsure how he ought to feel. “And?” he shouted. “What… what did she find?”
“I know that she visited St. Clair’s,” Mr. Marrow said. “As to what she learned, that, I cannot say. She returned late that evening, and she left a few hours later. Likely, nothing was found. But I thought it best that I tell you, nonetheless.”
Rhys remembered clearly the day that he and Mr. Marrow had visited St. Clair’s orphanage.
It was done weeks after he had learned of his sister’s death, and it was at a point in his search where he had well and truly given up.
So, when they arrived at the orphanage to find it burnt to the ground, he had taken that as a sign.
The weeks that followed were even worse.
Misery had taken Rhys in its clutches and punished him to within an inch of his life. His sister was dead. Her child was likely the same. It was all his fault, and nothing that he did would make a difference.
Oh sure, he had tried. He had started giving money to a local orphanage in the hope that might make him feel better, but the pain persisted, and he always knew that it would never make him feel truly at peace.
In fact, the only time that he had felt anything close to peace was when he adopted Lucy.
Not at first, of course. It took a while.
But slowly as he saw her find comfort in her new home, as he witnessed her grow and accept her new life, he began to understand what it meant to move on and forgive himself.
He looked into the distance as he considered what Mr. Marrow had told him. If St. Clair’s still stood—the real one—then maybe there was a chance that his sister’s child was alive?
“We could visit it tomorrow?” Mr. Marrow said as if he could read Rhys’ thoughts. “Shall I send word ahead that we mean to visit?”
He almost said yes. Hope started to burn inside of him, that dim possibility that all was not lost. But as he tried to fan those flames, his memories returned to those weeks after he had lost all hope. Did he really want to go through that again? And if he did, could he pull himself out of it?
“No…” Rhys started slowly as his thoughts moved somewhere else. “No, I do not think there is a need.”
“Are you sure, Your Grace?”
Rhys did not want to rest his future on false hope. And he did not want to continue to live in the past as if doing so might somehow save his future. He had done that already, and this was the result.
What Rhys needed was to move on and accept his past mistakes for what they were. And while he knew that he could not fix them, what he could do was make up for them.
His sister’s child was likely dead, but that did not mean that Rhys had to give up.
Down the hall, fast asleep, safe and sound, was a child who needed Rhys, just as he needed her.
He could not change the past, but he could save his future.
He could help someone who needed it, and not because he thought it would make him feel better, but because it was the right thing to do.
It was time to move on. It was time to accept his faults for what they were so that one day they might not come to define him.
Not for him. Not for Violet. Not even for Eleanor. But for Lucy. She was who he had to do this for… she was who mattered.
“I am sure.” Rhys pushed away his glass of brandy. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Mr. Marrow, but that will be all.”
Mr. Marrow frowned at him, looked as if he might argue, but bowed and ducked from the room.
Once he was gone, Rhys stood up and started to pace.
All was not lost in his world. He was not so far gone that he might never recover.
He was a father now. Lucy needed him as he needed her, and regardless of who he was once and what he might have done, it was time that he did right by her.
It was time that he showed her and himself that he could love.
As to how he might do that? Truly, he had no idea. But for once, that did not scare him. For once, the unknown excited Rhys, and that was how he knew it was the right thing to do.
Rhys woke up early the following morning. He did so on purpose, determined to make the day count. More than that, he was determined to prove to himself that he was better than he had always believed.
As soon as he was awake, he threw on a robe and hurried towards the nursery. Lucy would be waking up soon, and he wanted to be there when she did.
The nursery was blessedly silent when Rhys appeared outside the door.
The morning light had started to spread through the room, but it was yet to reach the cot.
He was more nervous than he wanted to be, damn scared, in fact.
That a three-year-old could bring such feelings out in him…
remember, she is likely just as scared. If not, more so.
He crept silently into the room, ignoring the beating of his heart and the trembling of his legs. He reached the cot and slowly, carefully, peered over its barricade.
Lucy lay fast asleep inside.
She was curled into a tight ball, but she looked at peace.
There was a small smile on her face, and he could only imagine the pleasant dreams that she must be having.
They were dreams that Rhys did not want to see end, just as he wanted that smile to be found throughout the day. She deserved as much.
He waited patiently until she stirred.
And when her eyes slowly opened, Rhys was sure to smile upon her with what he hoped she would read as kindness and love and affection.
“Good morning,” he said in a whisper.
Her eyes widened as if in fear and she looked about. “Violet…”
“She is not here,” Rhys sighed.
Her face scrunched into a pout and he knew that she was getting ready to burst into tears.
“But I am here, Lucy,” he said to her, keeping his voice soft. Rhys did not know how much she might understand, but he had to assume that his tone would be recognized. “And I will always be here. I need you to know that.”
Her face was still scrunched into a tight ball but there were no tears, yet.
“Violet is… she is away, for now. But she loves you, Lucy. As I do. And no matter what happens, that will not change. All I want is to be here for you, and there is nothing you can do that will change that. Do you understand?”
She said nothing and while her face was still scrunched into a ball, Rhys could have sworn he saw recognition and understanding pass behind her eyes.
“Now, I am thinking it is time to eat.” He held his smile as he looked at her. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded hesitantly, as if even she was unsure.
He laughed gently. “Would you like to join me?”
Again, she nodded and her scrunched face started to relax. And then, as if she was finally starting to accept Rhys, she sat up and she held out her arms for him to pick her up.
Rhys exhaled with such relief that he felt it like a weight falling from his shoulders. It was such a small thing, but that single gesture was enough to tell him that Lucy did not hate him. Better still, she knew him, as she knew who he was and what he meant to her.
Maybe I do have a chance, after all?
Rhys smiled as he leaned into the cot and scooped Lucy into his arms. Her little arms went around his neck, and he held her close to his body.
“Woah, you have gotten big,” he chuckled as he clutched her to his chest. “You might be able to carry me soon.”
Lucy giggled at the joke, or at least the tone of it.
“Come on then…” He turned and they started from the room together. “Let us get you fed.”
It was just as they reached the doorway that the sun spread its warmth across the entire room. Rhys felt it on his skin, and it seemed to infuse him with energy and hope that he sorely needed.
This was one small step. He was not such a fool to believe that things would be easy from now on. But that Lucy was at least willing to give him a chance… it is one that I will not ruin.
Rhys would be a father to her. And not because he had to be one, but because he wanted to be. She was his daughter, her life was in his hands, and he would not ruin her life as he had ruined so many others.