Chapter 1
Chapter
Thomas insisted on walking to the carriage unaided.
Fred kept his mouth shut, although the effort cost him.
His jaw would hurt for hours afterward from clenching it so tightly.
But Tom, he knew, would rather fall flat on his face than allow Fred to openly support him.
So he walked a step behind, there just in case.
Thomas stumbled once, so badly Julianna cried out, and Fred lurched forward to catch him, but he steadied himself before Fred could lay a hand on him.
Ahead of them Mrs. Sykes fussed with blankets and the physician sat solemnly in the carriage.
Gilbert oversaw the loading of trunks with his usual efficiency.
The coachman poked at the thawing piles of snow, ensuring the ground would allow for a smooth enough trip.
It was only Fred and Julianna who found themselves without a definite job to do.
No. Fred looked at his wife. He did have a clear duty here, which was to keep her spirits up. And to give her whatever comfort he could.
Thomas paused to rest at the carriage block, leaning against the conveyance. Julianna stood beside him and Fred saw storm after storm of emotion sweep across her face. At last, she threw her arms around her brother but said nothing.
“Julie-bug,” Thomas rasped. “We agreed to try. I will come back if the treatment fails.”
“I know,” she said.
But her features showed such a wretched expression that Fred had to turn away momentarily from the pain in her face.
And how bony and stooped Thomas’s shoulders had become.
He hoped with all he had they were making the right decision here.
Then he forced himself to turn back around in time to see a wan smile on Thomas’s face.
He was only a pale ghost of the boy he had once been but Fred still saw his bosom friend there, every time he looked. He probably always would, no matter what manner of men they’d become.
“Give me a moment with Fred, please,” Tom said.
She looked from one to the other, unsure, but eventually turned away so that Fred could take her place next to Thomas, who still leaned against the carriage. The two men stared at each other until finally Fred held out his hand to shake. Thomas brushed it aside.
“I don’t know,” Tom said slowly, “what to say to you. Ought I to thank you or swear at you or some combination of both?”
“You could have just shaken my hand.”
Thomas ignored that, studying him before he asked. “When did you make these arrangements?”
“The day after I first visited you at Farrow Cottage.”
“Before the marriage?”
Fred nodded.
“You always were certain you knew best.”
Fred looked away then. He had to, but he brought his attention back as soon as he could. “Never certain, no.”
Thomas coughed, a shallow, rattling sound. After it passed, he fixed Fred with a piercing look. “I believe,” he finally said, “that you are an exceptionally flawed man. And that your choices have made a ruin of us all.”
Fred said nothing. He considered telling Thomas the truth about that night as he watched the grooms finish checking the tack, but he didn’t.
He opened his mouth but no words came out.
There was just too much about that night for him to face right now.
Especially not when the storm of Thomas’s temper these last weeks had finally abated and he’d agreed to go for treatment.
“I don’t forgive you,” Thomas went on, “and I likely never will. But I am not a fool. I can see what is happening between you and my sister. The way she looks at you and allows you liberties.”
At that Fred would speak, but Thomas only held up a hand to stop him and went on.
“Emotional liberties. She’s never allowed anyone to comfort her, you know. Not even me. Except for you.”
Fred swallowed and pushed away any implications he might draw from Thomas’s words.
He didn’t think he could bear the hopefulness that rose in his chest at them.
He listened instead to the meltwater that dripped steadily from the Manor eaves behind him.
And slid his gaze over to Juliana, who he knew stood on the steps watching them.
“And she deserves a life,” Thomas continued. “Not one spent nursing me. Nor assuaging whatever personal demons you endlessly choose to court. She deserves something of her own. And while I neither forgive you nor trust you, I do believe you may give her that. Will you?”
“She will have whatever she desires.”
Thomas nodded, satisfied at that answer. “If you hurt her more than you already have, I will crawl back from whatever grave they put me in and make certain you regret it.”
Fred nearly smiled at that. “Seems fair.”
For a moment Thomas simply leaned there, gathering, Fred supposed, his strength for the next words he said. A question Tom asked so conversationally Fred could have pretended misunderstanding if he chose.
“Why did you run?”
Fred knew what Thomas was asking him. Why had Fred run the night of the accident? And in the moment of silence that followed, he knew he should tell the truth. And didn’t. Or not all of it.
“You know why,” he said. “You know where I was and who I was with, when I shouldn’t have been. I ran because the guilt I felt after would not allow me to stay.”
Thomas closed his eyes. “I am trusting you to be better going forward.”
Fred could have said so many things then. But he only held out his hand and this time Thomas took it. At the feel of his oldest friend grasping his palm he felt something in his chest shift, some closing of the chasm between past and present that was unbearably painful.
For once, though, he did not look away, just in case there was more Thomas had to say.
There wasn’t, and at last Thomas allowed Fred and the physician to assist him into the carriage.
The door shut behind him with a final, wooden thud.
The horses moved forward. And all Fred could do was watch them go.
His chest felt constricted. His face went hot.
His heart—his fucking heart—hurt. Thomas was trusting him to do better, to be the person Julianna needed.
He didn’t know if he could do that, could be that, but by Christ he would try. He’d promised both of them he would.
Even if it terrified him. Even if he wanted to get on his horse and ride back to France where he could at least pretend this life and all the consequences of his actions here didn’t exist. Instead he turned back to Sedgewick Manor where Julianna stood in the doorway watching him.
He’d known where she was for that entire conversation.
He always knew where she was, his eyes tracking her in every room they’d been in together these last weeks.
Now they were finally alone. And he wasn’t certain either of them knew how to handle it.
Hawthorne Hall
May 25, 1860
The Earl and Countess of Chester are most cordially invited to an evening gathering in aid of soldiers and families affected by the late Crimean War.
The night will feature music, readings, and a charitable auction, with all proceeds to benefit those widowed or invalided by the conflict. Your presence would be an honor to the cause and a great encouragement to our community.
With deepest respect,
Lady Isobel Hawthorne