To Stand Tall
Chapter thirty-four
Christopher wanted nothing more than to rush back to Liverpool and find his way to Ireland as quickly as possible.
However, he knew he could not leave without exchanging a few words with his mother.
And so, he directed his mount back to Fartherington Hall, his shoulders tense and his hands clenched upon the reins.
For even though his mother’s reaction would not change his plans, Christopher could not deny that he still wished for her approval.
More than that, for her affection.
Was he a bloody fool? Did he perhaps secretly delight in her rejection?
As much as he wished she would simply turn over a new leaf, suggest that they forget the past and begin again, deep down, Christopher knew wishes like these were rarely granted.
Why then did he keep hoping? Only to be disappointed again?
After handing his steed to a stable boy, he slowly ascended the steps to the front door and then stepped inside.
The large house felt…empty, not like Whickerton Grove at all.
There was no life here, no family, no love.
Sebastian and his father were gone, and only his mother and Nora remained, both of whom had not laughed or smiled in…
He could not even say.
Striding across the hall, Christopher entered the drawing room, knowing that his mother preferred to sit here in the mornings, appreciating the light that shone in through the east-facing windows.
He found her seated upon the settee near the fireplace, another piece of embroidery in her hands, her head bent in concentration.
“I see you have returned,” his mother remarked in a stern voice, not even bothering to look up.
Christopher heaved a deep sigh and moved farther into the room before seating himself in an armchair across from her. “I’ve come to inform you of a recent development.”
That, at least, made her react. Her eyes rose from the fine stitches her hands were executing and met his.
“A recent development?” she asked, her voice strained as though she expected the worst. Would it forever be thus?
Christopher wondered. Would she never see him in a favorable light?
What on earth could he have done to deserve such mistrust?
Shaking his head, Christopher pushed back all these thoughts of his childhood. He was not here today to confront his mother about anything that had happened, about the way she had been treating him all his life. No, that part was behind him. Now, he was looking to the future.
The future with his son and with Juliet.
The thought brought a smile to his face, and Christopher saw a slight frown descend upon his mother’s forehead as she saw it.
“I am betrothed,” he said simply, holding her gaze and noting the way she seemed to still even more.
He could see her eyes narrow incrementally, suspicion and a hint of annoyance sneaking into her expression.
Christopher sighed. Indeed, it seemed it would forever be thus.
“May I ask who your bride-to-be is?” his mother inquired, a haughty expression upon her face, as she set aside her embroidery and folded her hands in her lap.
Leaning forward, Christopher braced his elbows upon his legs. “It is Jules,” he said, all but whispering her name affectionately and delighting in the way the mere mention of her name filled him with joy.
His mother rolled her eyes at him. “You should know better than to speak of the lady so informally,” she chided him; yet a hint of relief seemed to linger upon her face, as though she had feared his choice of a wife would displease her. For once, it seemed he had failed to disappoint his mother.
Christopher was uncertain how he felt about that. “To me, she’s Jules and will always be Jules,” he said, straightening as he sat back. “I am well aware that you disapprove; however, I no longer care.”
His mother’s eyes narrowed in surprise at his sharp tone.
For a moment, it appeared she would once again reprimand him, make her displeasure unmistakably clear; yet she did not.
“Have you already set a date?” she inquired, a rather indifferent look in her eyes.
“After all, a wedding requires careful preparations. However, I assure you, Fartherington Hall shall be splendid for its new countess.”
A tentative smile stole onto Christopher’s face as he thought of Jules and the Whickertons as well as Harriet’s recent wedding.
Indeed, they had not spoken of a date yet, but Christopher was determined to make Juliet his wife as soon as possible.
“That won’t be necessary, Mother,” he said slowly, enjoying the confused look on her face.
Perhaps it was petty of him or even vindictive, but he could not help enjoying making her feel ill at ease.
“We shall be married at Whickerton Grove.”
The serene look fell from his mother’s face, her eyes going wide as she stared at him. “You cannot!” she exclaimed, anger flashing in her eyes for a second before she managed to subdue it. “You are the Earl of Lockhart and it is your duty to—”
“I do not care,” Christopher interrupted his mother. Again, he leaned forward, resting his elbows upon his legs, his eyes fixed upon hers. “This is my life, and you have no say in it. I will do what I deem right.”
“Right?” Shaking her head, his mother stared at him, a rather dumbfounded expression upon her face, one Christopher could not recall ever having seen before. “What you say makes no sense!” Again, she shook her head. “No, no, no. You shall be married here at Fartherington Hall. Is that understood?”
A dark chuckle left Christopher’s throat. “I know well that you are used to dictating everyone’s lives; however, from now on, you will have no say in mine.”
Her features froze, and she swallowed hard.
“I merely came here as a courtesy,” Christopher continued, the look in his eyes unrelenting as hers had always been, “to inform you of my impending nuptials as well as of another decision that was long overdue.”
His mother’s hands tensed in her lap as she watched him suspiciously.
Christopher swallowed, feeling his hands tremble at the thought of what lay ahead. “I am on my way to Ireland,” he told his mother, and with each word to leave his lips, his heart began to warm, “to fetch my son.”
His mother’s eyes opened in utter shock.
“You cannot!” She shot to her feet, her cheeks paling as she stared at him.
“What is this nonsense? You are about to marry a woman of the peerage, an earl’s daughter, and you intend to make her suffer through the humiliation of parading your bastard in front of everyone? ”
Surging to his feet, Christopher glared at his mother. “Don’t you dare speak of him in this way!” he snarled, shame washing over him because he knew his words came far too late. He should have spoken them years ago. “He is my son, and he will soon be ours, Juliet’s and mine.”
A scoff left his mother’s lips. “Your new bride will want nothing to do with your errors in judgment.” She took a step toward him. “Be reasonable and—”
Pressing his lips into a thin line, Christopher shook his head. “You’re wrong,” he told her slowly, almost menacingly. “Juliet is not like you. She will not see a mistake when she looks upon my son, our son. She will see an innocent, sweet little boy, and she will be proud to be his mother.”
His mother closed her eyes, a heavy sigh leaving her lips. “Don’t be a fool, Christopher. The moment she finds out about the child, she will—”
“She already knows!” Watching his mother’s jaw drop, Christopher smiled. “She already knows, and it was her idea to bring Sebastian home.”
A frown came to his mother’s face, and her cheeks paled even further. “S-Sebastian?” For the first time, sadness washed over her face, and Christopher could not help but wonder if she would have shed a tear had he been the one to die that day and not his brother.
“Yes, I named my son after my brother. You never even knew because you never cared.” He heaved a heavy sigh, no longer feeling angry but deeply regretful of all those painful and wasted years.
“I have no wish to quarrel with you, Mother. I came here today to inform you of my impending marriage and of my intention to bring my son home. We shall be a family, and if you wish, you may be a part of our lives,” he lifted a finger in warning, his gaze fixed upon hers, “if you bury this hatred you have within yourself. One word against my son, and I will send you from this house.”
Her eyes widened, yet her lips pressed into a tight line. “You cannot do that,” she hissed under her breath. Still, Christopher heard doubt in her voice.
“I can, and I will,” he assured her. “You will not poison my son’s life the way you poisoned mine.”
For a second, Christopher thought to see shock and pain flash over her face; however, those emotions quickly vanished, once again replaced by a look of deepest indignation. “Christopher, he is a bastard. He can never inherit. He—”
“I don’t care!” Christopher growled into her face.
“He is my son, and he means more to me than your silly notions of standing and reputation.” He gritted his teeth and looked down into his mother’s face, shocked to see incomprehension resting in her eyes.
“But you’ve never been able to understand that, have you?
” Sighing deeply, he shook his head. “A son is more than an heir, and, yes, I was a fool to ever hide him away. He deserves better as I deserved better.” He straightened, squaring his shoulders.
“I’ve made my choice, Mother. What is yours?
If you cannot accept him, me, then I suggest you leave before we return. ”
For a moment, his mother looked as though she was about to respond, anger and outrage flashing in her eyes, her lips contorted into a snarl. Then, however, she clamped her hands together and sealed her lips before spinning upon her heel and rushing from the room.
Christopher heaved a deep sigh. Deep down, he had known that his mother would never relent. She was who she was and nothing he said or did would ever change that. Nevertheless, it hurt—as much as he despised admitting it.
“Bravo!”
Christopher’s head snapped up, and he spotted Nora standing in the doorway, a wide smile upon her face.
Her deep brown eyes seemed to sparkle in a way Christopher had not seen in a long time, and he wondered if just perhaps it had something to do with Troy.
Had his friend come here last night? Had he spoken to Nora?
“It was about time,” his sister remarked with a curl to her lips as she strode toward him. “I feared you never would.” Her smile deepened as she looked up into his face. “I’m happy to be proven wrong.”
Christopher nodded, realizing that it did feel good to have said the things he had. It had not changed anything, not between him and his mother; however, it had been the right thing to do for him as well as his new family. “You overheard?”
Nora chuckled. “It was hard not to.” She regarded him curiously. “I’ve never seen you so angry. It suits you.”
Christopher laughed. “Anger suits me?”
“Not anger,” Nora marveled as her eyes swept over his face, her brows drawing down, as though she were trying to grasp something eluding her.
“It’s that…that fire I see in your eyes.
” She placed a hand upon his arm affectionately.
“You look as though you’ve woken up from a long sleep, Christopher.
Before, you never seemed quite here, you know?
” A deep sigh left her lips. “You do now, though.” She chuckled. “It appears Jules kissed you awake.”
Christopher laughed, pulling his sister into his arms. “Thank you,” he murmured, holding her tightly.
“For what?”
He sighed, then stood back. “For being you. For being happy for me.” He paused, his eyes narrowing as they searched her face. “I wish I could see the same fire in your eyes.”
Tensing, Nora dropped her gaze. Still, Christopher thought to have seen the hint of a smile tease the corners of her lips. Was she hiding something? What had happened last night?
As much as Christopher would like to pry for more information, he did not have time. He needed to catch the next ship to Ireland. Still…
Inhaling a deep breath, Christopher reached inside his jacket and pulled out the letter. Troy had demanded he burn it; however, Christopher was willing to risk his friend’s wrath, hoping that, perhaps, one day, Troy would forgive him. “This is for you.”
Nora looked up, a slight curl coming to her lips as she looked from the letter in his hand to him. “Whatever you have to say to me you can just say it now,” she said teasingly. “There is no need for formalities.”
Christopher smiled, overwhelmed by the sudden change he saw in her.
How long had it been since she had smiled and joked like this?
Of course, he had spent most of his time in Ireland these past few years; however, upon his return only a few weeks ago, Nora had seemed very different from the way she stood before him today.
Had that been Troy’s doing? Was there hope for the two of them after all?
“No, the letter is not from me,” he told her, wondering if perhaps Troy had already spoken to her of his affections. “The truth is, I was to deliver it to you…five years ago.”
However, instead of understanding, Christopher saw confusion come into her eyes. “Five years ago?” she asked, laughing. “What delayed you?” Humor stood in her eyes, and Christopher wished he could stay and speak with her some more.
Christopher bowed his head. “I am deeply sorry for not giving this to you sooner. I know I should have. I had every intention of doing so, but…”
Stepping closer, Nora placed a comforting hand on his arm, her brown eyes soft as they searched his. “What is this about? It is only a letter, nothing that ought to concern you this deeply.”
Christopher closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, and then looked down at his sister. “Troy gave it to me the day of your wedding.”
Her features froze as she stared up at him.
“He asked me to give it to you as soon as possible,” he told her honestly, praying that she would be able to forgive him, “but then I learned of my son’s birth and the letter slipped my mind.
” He grasped her hands, hers now limp and chilled.
“Back then, I did not know what this letter contained. Neither do I now; however, I have my suspicions and I think you should read it.” He held the letter out to her.
Swallowing, Nora looked up into his eyes before her gaze dropped to the letter in his hand. She moved slowly, her hand extending as though she was uncertain whether she truly wanted it.
“Read it,” Christopher urged her as she turned the letter carefully, almost reverently, in her hands, “and make of it what you will. I simply thought you should know.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.
“I shall see you soon, Nora. Be well.” Then he strode from the room, eager to leave and even more eager to return.