Chapter 31
Thirty-One
“There is no need for all this fussing,” Isolde’s father complained as Isolde adjusted the pillow beneath his head. “Truly, you have better things to do.”
She scoffed. “Better than looking after my ailing father? I would hope not.”
“You are married, Isolde,” he complained, even as he settled back onto his pillow with a groan that was filled with pain. “Surely your husband needs you.”
“He will be fine without me,” she said, ignoring the way her stomach twisted and her chest grew tight. “I will be home this evening. A few hours away here and there is not such a long time.”
“You cannot keep coming here,” he said to her, his voice weak. “What if someone sees you?”
“Let them see.”
He frowned at her. “And His Grace? What does he say of this? He of all people knows how important such secrecy is.”
“He does not mind,” she lied. “In fact, he is the one who has encouraged it.”
“Why do I find that hard to believe—”
“Will you stop!” Isolde laughed as she said it. “You are sick, Thomas and Marianne cannot possibly care for you. And until you are well, this is how things will be.” She raised a warning eyebrow at him.
He shrank back, but likely that was just because he did not have the strength to argue. “As you say. I blame myself, I suppose. Serves me right for raising such a headstrong daughter.”
She laughed. “I do not know what you were thinking.”
“Oh, I knew what I was doing.” Lying in bed, he looked at her with such love and affection that it almost managed to fight back those feelings of sorrow that suffocated Isolde so that she could hardly breathe. “And I wouldn’t change a thing.”
She took his withered hand and squeezed it. “Perhaps I will speak to Cassian about bringing you to the manor where you can be looked after properly.”
The words were spoken to comfort her father, and they turned to ash on her tongue because they were also a lie. Cassian did not know where Isolde was because she had not told him. Worse still, she doubted that he would care.
“Me, living in a manor like that…” He laughed but it was broken by fits of coughing.
“What a thing. I am so proud of you, Isolde.” He looked at her with those big eyes, and she had to look away to stop herself from crying.
“How this came to be, well, I cannot say that I condone it. But it happened, you are clearly happy, and that is all I ever wanted for you.”
She squeezed his hand, her arm shaking as she fought back those tears. “You speak as if this is the end, Father. But you will be well soon, and once you are, well…” She forced laughter. “First of all, this parish will need some fixing. I will be sure to speak to Cassian about that too.”
Another lie. Another moment where Isolde hated herself. But that was common of late. She spoke the words to make her father feel better, knowing they did little, while knowing that each lie told only made her feel worse.
How has it come to this… no, it was always coming to this. My lies have caught up with me, and I deserve whatever comes.
It had been three days since Mr. Harwood had come to visit Isolde, since he had lied to Cassian’s face, and since Cassian had walked out of the room without giving Isolde any sense at all of whether he believed the lies, or whether he believed her. Three days, and since then… nothing.
Cassian had been avoiding her. From sunrise to sunset, he was absent from the estate, seemingly determined not to see her.
If she had wondered what Cassian thought about Mr. Harwood’s accusation, she knew the answer by now. And while she wanted to speak to Cassian directly, to beg him to believe her, she also saw no point.
The simple fact was that her husband did not trust her.
And because he did not trust her, he likely never would.
Perhaps they would get past this one lie, and perhaps he would finally decide that he believed her.
But what of the next lie? Or the one after that?
At what point would Cassian realize that Isolde was simply not worth the cost.
Worse still, Isolde could not blame him.
She was done trying to justify her actions. She was done making excuses for them. Perhaps if she had followed through and ended up helping her family, she could make her peace with what had come. But she hadn’t even managed to do that. And now, all she could do was wait for the inevitable…
One day soon, Cassian would call her into his office, he would tell her he wanted an annulment to their marriage, and she would have little choice but to bow her head and agree.
It was lucky then that she did not love him… No, that is also a lie.
“You know who you remind me of…” Her father’s voice was weak, and his eyes could hardly manage to stay open.
“Who?” She smiled down at him.
“With the light, how you look just now.” He coughed. “You look just like your mother. Or how I remember her.”
“Is that so?”
“I don’t tell you enough how much you remind me of her,” he said. “She was headstrong like you. Oh, you’d better believe it.” He laughed at the memory. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman who can argue quite like she could. Well, until you came along, that is.”
That her father spoke so openly about her mother was proof that he thought his life was coming to an end.
Isolde hardly remembered her mother at all.
It was strange, as she had not been that young when she died, but memories were odd like that.
Likely, the pain of her death was enough to see them buried deeply so they couldn’t hurt her.
Isolde almost laughed at the notion. Hadn’t she told Cassian to do the opposite? Hadn’t she told him that painful memories were to be cherished because they made a person who they were? The good and the bad; they were what defined you.
“Tell me again, how you met,” Isolde said as she held onto her father’s hand. “I have not heard the story in so long.”
“Oh, now that is a story.” His eyes glazed over and for a moment, her father almost looked like his old self. “You think that you and His Grace have a romantic story?” He chuckled and wheezed. “Let me tell you, that is nothing.”
“Remind me,” she said with a smile.
“I can still remember the first time I saw her,” Isolde’s father began.
“I was hosting a sermon. The services were bigger back then. Nearly fifty people, at the least. And I knew all their faces too. Every one, by name. But I didn’t know her.
” He looked past Isolde as if at an old memory.
“I’ll never forget it. When I saw her. I lost my place…
” He laughed again. “Had to start over.”
“But you didn’t talk to her,” Isolde guided him because she knew the story.
“I was too scared,” he said. “I spent that whole sermon trying to work up the courage, and when it ended I panicked.” He shook his head. “I did everything but approach her. And that whole time, she just sat there, looking lost…” He drifted for a moment, a frown across his aged face.
“When did you speak to her?”
“The next time,” he said brightly. “Truly, I could not believe that she came a second time. I was awkward, unable to form words with my tongue.” He laughed again. “But she was sweet, so kind and softly spoken. We didn’t say much but it was enough for me to know.”
“Know what?”
“That I would marry her,” he said seriously as if the question was a silly one. “She came every day after that. Always sat in the same place. And always she waited until the end so we could speak. Which, I promise you, I got a lot better at doing.”
She laughed as she pictured her. Her mother’s face might have been fuzzy, but she could picture her father and mother in the chapel, speaking together, young and happy as love bloomed between them.
“It didn’t take long for me to realize that she needed help either,” her father continued.
“She was running, though she wouldn’t tell me from what.
Never did find out…” He pushed his lips together.
“We used to joke about it. Seeing as I didn’t know where she came from, who she was…
” More laughter. “We joked that she was an angel sent from heaven. Which she was.” He sniffed.
“She was my angel, and she saved me, even if I didn’t know I needed saving. ”
“I wish I had known her better.” Isolde’s throat tightened.
“Oh, me too. She loved you so much, dear. And she would have loved to have seen what you became—what you’ve made of yourself.”
Isolde winced and said nothing, unable to agree with her father’s assessment.
“In some ways, I guess you’ve become what she was,” he said with a smile.
“An angel, that is. Come to save the duke from himself.” He chuckled as his eyes began to close, his voice growing weary.
“As he’s saved you. Don’t…” He yawned, his eyes fully closed.
“Don’t you forget that, Isolde. You’re strong…
but you need… someone to… care for you…” Slowly, surely, her father drifted off to sleep.
Isolde was grateful for that, as by that time, her eyes had welled with tears that she wasn’t certain she’d be able to keep back for much longer.
For a time, perhaps she might have agreed with her father.
She had saved the duke, and showed him who he could be if only he were brave enough.
Just as he had saved her, because she might have been happy before he came along, but she had always been missing something…
A different type of happiness, found for a short time.
That was no longer the case. She had not saved Cassian, and he had not saved her. Soon enough, he would realize that, and their marriage would be at its end. It wasn’t what Isolde wanted, but she had slowly come to accept that it was the only way forward.
Worse still, I deserve as much.
With her father fast asleep, Isolde left him alone in his room.
She went outside to find Marianne and Thomas.
She spent an hour with them both, playing and laughing and focusing on her love for them, rather than her own depressed mood.
At least when all this was done, she would have them to return home for.
After that, and with no other choice, Isolde climbed atop her horse and made her way back to the manor. It would be sunset by the time she arrived, and supper would be almost ready. She allowed herself to wonder for a brief second if Cassian might finally join her.
But, as she started down the road, and watched the sun slowly sinking, she knew that was unlikely. Her fate was sealed, her path was set, and there was nothing she could do to change that.
At least alone with no one to watch her, Isolde could finally cry.
And she did just that, letting the tears fall freely.
Pain… It was necessary, and one day, if she was lucky, moments like that one would remind her of the good times that she hoped to have in the future.
Even if that future promised to be without Cassian.