Chapter 10
Hold the Line
Cilly found Damian out on the lane, sitting on the stone wall that edged the property.
He looked worn to a thread, pale and fatigued, and not at all the vigorous, wicked devil she had grown used to.
Her urge to run to him, throw her arms about his neck and weep was one she held tightly in check, knowing he would revile such a reaction and put up even more barriers to keep her away.
She was not a fool. He had brought her here to shock her.
Damian had believed she would be so horrified by his heritage, by the taint he believed existed in his blood, that she would not resist his demand they be nothing more than friends.
She did not doubt he expected her to reject even that as a possibility, now she knew the shame his family bore.
Well, he must get used to the idea that she would never reject or abandon him, no matter what.
Moving slowly, as if she were approaching something wild, she settled herself on the wall beside him, careful not to touch him.
The silence stretched out around them, the only sound the breeze that scattered fallen leaves around their feet.
Autumn had already settled over the land, casting the leaves in gold and bronze.
She had always loved the autumn, the sense that nature was sighing with relief after the excess of the summer, though the weather this year had been strange indeed.
Though the temptation to break the silence, to reassure him or make promises was hard to resist, she forced herself to remain still and quiet. She would wait for him to guide her, to show her what he needed, though her heart knew instinctively what that was, she wished to be certain.
The strained hush was becoming hard to bear when he finally shifted position, turning to look at her.
“Well,” he said, his voice unnaturally calm, devoid of emotion. “Have you seen enough?”
Cilly turned to meet his eyes, finding them utterly cold. He meant to complete the job he had begun and push her away. She did not doubt he had expected her to run away weeping in horror. As she hadn’t, he would be forced to try harder.
“For today. I hope you do not mind, but I promised I would come again to visit her.”
She spoke lightly, though her heart thudded unevenly in her chest. If she said the wrong thing, she could ruin any chance she had of being even his friend.
He snorted, folding his arms. “Ah, like a ministering angel,” he said with a sneer.
Cilly shrugged. “Do you think so? I had more in mind a dutiful daughter-in-law, but I am charmed by the idea you think me such a sweet creature. I’m really not, you know. I would have thought you’d realise this by now.”
He shot her an impatient glare, clearly vexed by her unreasonable refusal to find him or his mother reprehensible. “Stop pretending you aren’t horrified, damn you.”
She let out a ragged breath, half gasp, half laughter.
“Oh, Damian. How can you say that? You tell me the worst imaginable secret, something that must have tormented you for your entire life and throw it at me like you are asking me to pass the sugar. You have manipulated me and this entire visit and have gone out of your way to shock and frighten me, and now you are angry with me because I won’t run away. ”
He folded his arms tighter, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “It needed very little manipulation,” he snapped.
Silence fell between them again, but it felt less threatening this time. Cilly took a breath, praying she would find the right words.
“Damian, what happened to you, and to Gideon, what… what your mother did… I cannot imagine how frightening that must have been.”
She watched him as he rubbed his face with his hand, watched his jaw clench and release until finally he spoke.
“My father was on the floor. At first, I thought he was asleep and I… I kept wondering, why is his cravat red? Papa never wears a red cravat.”
He gave a humourless laugh which somehow only made the horror of his words strike her harder.
Cilly moved, as if she would reach to take his hand but he crossed his arms again, and she realised he would not allow her to comfort him.
“How old were you?” she asked.
“Eight. Gideon was not quite three. Our nanny had brought him down to say goodnight, and—her scream. The sound of it still wakes me sometimes. She was so terrified she put Gideon down—dropped him, actually—and my mother saw him. There… There was such rage in her eyes, such—”
He shook his head and swallowed.
Cilly covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself from crying out, from sobbing as the scene appeared in her mind’s eye.
She wondered if he had ever told anyone about this, had ever spoken the words aloud.
That he needed to do so, that the wound needed to be excised, seemed entirely natural to her, for surely something so dreadful would fester in the darkness.
Telling her about it in the light of day would not mend it, but perhaps it might heal a little without leaving such a terrible scar.
“She started walking towards Gideon. She didn’t run, I remember that. There was no hurry. She walked slowly, purposefully, and Gideon just…. He just stood there, waiting.”
He surged to his feet and strode away, walking to the gate on the far side of the road that led into a field where a dairy herd munched with quiet contentment. Cilly watched, struggling to keep her breathing calm as he lent on the gate, pressing his forehead against his hands.
Closing her eyes, she drew in a breath, gathered her nerve, and stood, walking to stand beside him.
“What happened next?”
He lifted his head, turning to glare at her. “Fond of Gothic novels, are you, my lady? Want me to share more gory details?”
Cilly flinched but refused to allow him to hurt her.
He was lashing out because he was the one hurting, she would not mistake his pain for deliberate cruelty, even though he meant to strike at her.
“Actually, no, I loathe them. Hetty loves them, though. She used to torment me as a girl, reading them out loud at bedtime. I would pull a pillow over my head and yell at her to stop.”
He gazed at her for a long moment in frustration, but then his expression twisted with pain, and he turned away from her.
“I picked Deon up, I tried to run up the stairs, but… but she was faster. I screamed, trying to keep between the two of them, holding onto him as tightly as I could, but she was bigger, stronger, and she wrenched him away. Then the servants appeared, thank God. The butler… he was a nice fellow, kind. He used to slip us sweets, and he turned a blind eye when he knew I’d done something I ought not.
Then I could hear Mama, crying and crying, weeping because Papa was dead, Papa was dead, and I thought…
then why did you kill him?” His voice cracked, and he made a sound of fury and kicked the gate. “Damn you, Celia. God damn you!”
“I’m s-sorry,” she managed, determined not to weep because it would only infuriate him more. She had already pushed him as far as she dared.
“Why do you do this?” he demanded, turning to face her, his eyes wild with rage and pain. “Why must you make me—”
He shook his head and turned away, breathing hard, like he’d run from the Devil himself.
“Because you try to force me away, and I promised to be your friend, Damian. I meant it. If we marry, I shall vow to keep you in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, and I shall mean those words too. I will do it no matter what, no matter if you never love me or trust me. I do not make promises I have no intention of keeping.”
She took a hesitant step closer so that she could see his face in profile. He slanted a look at her, his expression wreathed with exhaustion and sorrow before turning away again, but not before she had glimpsed the shame in his eyes.
“You should have left it alone.”
“I could not. I will not. I do not want the gory details, Damian, only the truth. You keep deciding our future based on a past I know nothing of. Now I know and I have some little understanding of everything you are dealing with.”
“Oh, my God.” His words were incredulous, and he swung around to face her. “Don’t think for one moment that there is an argument to have, Celia. I will not risk our children enduring such a scene or… or becoming… like her!”
Cilly’s heart hammered in her chest, for this was the one subject she had known not to touch at such a moment, and now he was putting words in her mouth, forcing an argument she was not prepared to have with him.
“I never mentioned children!” she exclaimed.
“I certainly understand now why you are so adamant, but I would never have raised the subject.”
He snorted, shaking his head.
“Damian, that’s not fair.”
Damian’s expression darkened as he pointed an accusatory finger at her. “Fine, look me in the eye and tell me you don’t still hope I’ll change my mind.”
Cilly’s throat tightened, but she refused to lie to him. “My hopes and dreams are my own, Damian. That does not mean I would not respect your decision.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “No, you’ll just pine away, longing for something you cannot have.”
“Do I look like the pining sort?” she retorted, furious that he would think her so witless. “I will do nothing of the sort, you wretched man.”
“Then you agree with my decision,” he said, pushing and pushing, determined to force her to agree he was right to never father a child. “All the medical evidence shows that the risk of insanity following the bloodline is far too great. Ask any doctor and they’ll tell you the same thing.”
Cilly hesitated. This was not the moment for this discussion, but she had determined they must have honesty between them.
“I… I cannot say that for sure, no,” she said, putting up her chin.
“And it appears not every doctor agrees with the current thinking. I spoke to Doctor Grantham, Damian. He’s seen a great many cases like your mother’s, or…
or similar, at any rate. He said, in his opinion, it is unlikely to follow in future generations. He said he would talk to you about—”
“In his opinion!” He scoffed, his disgust obvious. “And did he say how many doctors would agree with that assessment?”
“He admitted he was a voice in the wilderness, but all the same—”
“All the same, he’s a bloody quack doctor who gets paid handsomely for his services, by me, and here you are, the pretty fiancée of Lord Rivington, likely with a fat dowry. He was telling you what you wished to hear, Celia. Don’t be so damned gullible.”
Cilly’s eyes burned with tears, but she shook her head. “No, that’s not true, Damian.”
Damian groaned and pressed his palms to his eyes.
Cilly stared at him, utterly wretched at seeing him so devastated. Somehow, she needed to find the words to explain that nothing had changed. She was here for him, no matter what.
“Damian, I am sorry. I’m sorry for everything that happened to you and to Gideon, but I am glad you brought me here.
If we are to have any kind of future together, however that future looks, we must at least be able to speak openly, honestly.
I know you have no reason to believe Doctor Grantham, and I do not know if he is right or wrong.
No one can make you promises for the future, Damian.
For all we know, we could be dead by morning, along with everyone we care about.
So what? Shall we stop breathing now, just in case?
I will accept whatever decision you make about children, for I have no right to impose my wishes upon you and pretend the risks away, but that is no reason we cannot be happy together. ”
He frowned down at the ground, and she could read the tension in his rigid frame, could almost hear his mind turning, forming arguments, but she suspected he was simply too devastated by the day to speak them.
Though it took more courage than she liked to admit, she moved to stand before him, gazing up into his tortured face.
“Let us not speak of this any more now. We will speak of it again, for it is too important to bury, but you are tired, Damian. It has been a trying day. We shall solve nothing by making it more difficult. Let us go home.”
She put out her hand, knowing he might reject her offer, might reject her.
Damian stared at her outstretched hand for a long, strained moment before sighing heavily and placing his hand in hers.
He frowned at their clasped hands and then gave a small squeeze.
Cilly squeezed back, trying not to cry as a small, impossible flare of hope surged to life.
She felt as if she had won a long and hard-fought battle, even though she knew the war was still ongoing and there was a difficult road ahead of her, but it was a start.