“No,” she shook her head sorrowfully, her eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t understand. I see you are not happy. How could you be? She doesn’t love you and you don’t love her. Just leave her and be happy…”
Alexander had to bite his lip in order not to say anything. How could he even begin to explain that over the course of the past several weeks, something had happened, something wonderous, something he never expected would happen? It was exactly like she said, she would not be able to understand and that was why he preferred to keep this all to himself, to have this secret all to himself and see where it would lead.
“It doesn’t matter how I feel, Mother,” he found the right words to both ignore her comment and offer a response to it at the same time.
He could see it in her eyes that she was undeterred. She had come there with one purpose in mind, and that was to convince him to get an annulment. From her point of view, it would release them both from the bonds of a marriage that she deemed a mistake. Her concern for his happiness echoed through the words she had carefully chosen, but he stood firm, resolute in his decisions. And not only that, but his heart refused to allow him to even consider an annulment as a possibility.
“How could it not matter?” she asked incredulously. “You are my son. All I care about is your happiness, yours and Leonard’s.”
“I know,” his voice softened. “But I have accepted my fate, Mother. Please, let us not dwell on it any longer.”
“But, Alexander, you have to see that—”
“No,” he cut her off. He would not be discussing it any more. She had to accept it.
She looked down at her hands, which she had crossed in front of her. She lingered like that for a moment or two, her frame almost having shrunk from the metaphorical weight she was carrying.
“All right,” she finally spoke, lifting her gaze to meet his. “I won’t bother you with this any longer.”
“Thank you,” he nodded.
“I’d best leave you then,” she said, without giving him a parting kiss as she usually did. Instead, she turned around and walked out of his study, closing the door behind her.
Alexander’s study, once again, embraced the solitude that accompanied his thoughts. The lingering scent of tea and the sound of the closing door marked the departure of his mother, leaving him alone with the weight of her words. As he stared out of the window, the fading sunlight cast long shadows in the room, mirroring the uncertainties clouding his mind.
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
You shouldn’t do this. You can’t do this. You simply can’t…
The message inside her mind was clear as daylight. She should simply continue on her path down the corridor and retire to her chamber, seeing that the door to Alexander’s study was closed and she could hear snippets of a conversation through the closed door.
She hesitated outside his study, the heavy oak door standing between her and the secrets concealed within. As the soft murmur of voices reached her ears, curiosity tugged at her resolve. Unintentionally drawn closer, she found herself inching towards the door, captivated by the clandestine conversation unfolding on the other side.
The dim glow of candlelight flickered beneath the door, casting an enigmatic ambiance. Her breath caught as she pressed an ear against the polished wood, the muffled sounds weaving tales of familial strife and unspoken dilemmas. The ethereal dance of shadows played on the carpet, mirroring the unseen drama that unfolded within the room.
In that stolen moment, Phyllis grappled with the dilemma of eavesdropping on matters not meant for her ears. Yet, the allure of unraveling the mystery proved too potent to resist. The choice to linger in the shadows, privy to the secrets of the man she called husband, rested on the precipice of forbidden knowledge.
“I don’t understand. I see you are not happy. How could you be? She doesn’t love you and you don’t love her. Just leave her and be happy…” A female voice spoke from the inside. It was muffled, but Phyllis could hear it clearly, making out every single word as it reached her.
“It doesn’t matter how I feel, Mother…” Alexander replied.
She gasped silently, pressing her hand to her lips. As Phyllis strained to catch the fragments of the conversation beyond the door, the words etched themselves into her heart like a cold, unforgiving wind. Alexander's voice, usually a source of solace, now became a harbinger of a bitter truth. The weight of his words pierced her, leaving her standing in the corridor, a silent witness to the unraveling of her hopes.
She had been planning to speak to him about giving them both some time to process things, to see how everything would develop, during which she would be staying with her sister. Secretly, she had also been hoping that he would stop her, that he would assure her it was unnecessary, that together they would find a way to work through it.
The realization that he was willing to let her go without protest struck her like a cruel blow. In the stillness of the corridor, she battled the sting of unshed tears, her heart echoing with the harsh reality that the man inside the study seemed prepared to let her slip away, like a wisp of forgotten wind.
Resolute but heartbroken, Phyllis turned away, leaving the shadows of the corridor to cloak her emotions. The path she had envisioned, a journey toward understanding or reconciliation, now seemed shrouded in uncertainty. The weight of disappointment clung to her like a heavy garment as she retreated, questioning the fragility of the connection between them. She knew there was only one thing she could do now.
In the solitude of her chamber, Phyllis moved with a quiet determination, her hands trembling as she carefully folded garments and placed them into a modest travel bag. Each item seemed to carry the weight of unspoken words and unmet expectations. Tears blurred her vision, making the familiar surroundings of her room appear as a blurry backdrop to the turmoil within.
As she packed, the room bore witness to her silent anguish. The once welcoming space now felt like a sanctuary betrayed by the echoes of a conversation she was never meant to hear. The garments, once chosen with care and adorned with hope, now cradled the sorrow of a heart slowly unraveling. She knew now what her older sister Charlotte and what her own mother must have felt, the anguish of their loved one betraying them in such a manner.
She could only hope that her sister would offer her shelter from the hardships of life she had stumbled onto. Phyllis knew that she could never go back home to her father. He would never understand what had happened. If anything, Phyllis was almost certain that he would point the finger of blame at her. That would be the final blow to her already shattered dreams. No. She had to find her way to Joyce, as quickly as she could. That was why she was packing so hastily, endeavoring to make as little noise as possible. Alexander was still in his study with his mother, but she would soon leave. And Phyllis had to leave immediately after… unseen. That was of the utmost importance. She didn’t know if she had the strength to face Alexander right now. Not after everything she had just heard.
In the midst of her silent tears, Phyllis questioned the choices that led her to this point. The warmth she had felt in Alexander’s presence now seemed like a fleeting illusion, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. With each folded dress and packed memento, she grappled with the reality that her journey with Alexander might be reaching an unexpected and painful crossroad.
Finally, as the last item found its place within the confines of the bag, Phyllis took a steadying breath. Her tear-streaked reflection in the mirror bore witness to a woman on the precipice of change, uncertain of the path ahead. The window beckoned her to take one last look at the garden she had so carefully planned, that same garden where she hoped to spend many a careless afternoon, drinking tea and reading a book.
