Leah’s throat clogged with sorrow, a chill running through her as she tried to imagine such torment. It made her think of her own father; he was not perfect, by any means, but at least he was not cruel to his wife. He was childish, petty, and threw tantrums but never in a way that made Leah or Sarah feel uncomfortable or unwelcome in their own home.
“Gradually, his violent words became violent actions,” Abigail went on, shaking as she spoke. “I shall not detail what I endured, but I transformed from a vibrant, happy, besotted young lady into a husk of myself. I had no one to help me, no one to rely upon, for he kept me from everyone else I adored. Then, at the very moment when I thought I could not go on any longer, I discovered I was with child. That discovery gave me strength. It made my husband happy, too. His violence vanished overnight, and I thanked God for bringing my child to me. I thought it was over. I thought, at last, I had pleased my husband the way I pleased him before we were married.
“But the aggression returned once Nathaniel was born. It was less cruel than it had been before, and never if I had Nathaniel in my arms, but… I think my husband became jealous of my love for Nathaniel,” Abigail explained, her voice thick, her eyes streaming with silent tears. “Eventually, he began to ignore me. He would leave me at Bergfield Manor for weeks at a time, and I never knew where he went or dared to ask. On the odd occasion that I did, I was punished. But I began to enjoy my solitude with just Nathaniel to keep me company. I used to dread hearing my husband’s carriage on the driveway. It was… easier when he was not there.
“Then, nine years later, Colin came along. This time, my husband was not happy. He was convinced Colin was not his though he could not have been anyone else’s,” Abigail said softly, her smile desperately sad. “Weeks after I brought my youngest into the world, my husband struck me while I had Colin in my arms. I did not think twice. I left that very same night with Colin.”
Leah cleared her throat. “You did not take Nathaniel with you?”
“I could not reach him,” Abigail admitted, her face creasing as a sob wracked her chest. “I… abandoned him, and I have never forgiven myself for it. I was gone for four months, living with the one friend who had not given up on me. Needless to say, she did when I went back to that beast, but I could not bear the thought of being away from Nathaniel: my firstborn, my savior, my dear boy.”
Leah nodded slowly, picking up her tea to wet her dry tongue. “You were punished?”
“Strangely, I was not,” Abigail replied. “My husband either ignored me or lavished me with an affection I did not trust. I did not know, back then, that he was taking his anger out on Nathaniel instead of me. He must have been eleven, the first time I noticed the bruises on him. My husband would take him away to London, and when they came back, Nathaniel was always in a terrible state: black eyes, split lips, bruises all over him. I feared what would happen if I tried to leave again, taking my boys with me. Not that I had the chance to—Nathaniel was closely guarded.” She closed her eyes, breathing raggedly.
Leah watched her, her heart breaking for the boy Nathaniel once was and for Abigail’s youthful hopes, dashed against the rocks of a terrible marriage. A few things began to slot into place in Leah’s mind as she sifted through the awful tale—namely, why Nathaniel might be so averse to the idea of marriage. And why he had said that people change, not always for the better, after marriage.
“For years, Nathaniel continued to venture into London with his father, but he rarely returned with bruises. I assumed the beatings had ceased, and it was merely a case of a father and son spending time with one another though Nathaniel would never tell me what occurred during those excursions,” Abigail said, trying to pick up her cup of tea. The saucer shook so violently in her hand, spilling tea over the edge of the cup, that she immediately set it down again. “My husband would not acknowledge Colin at all which I eventually became grateful for. If Colin was invisible, Colin would not suffer—that was my thinking.”
Leah hesitated. “Did you ever find out what occurred during those visits to London?”
“I have my theories, but I have never had them confirmed,” Abigail replied. “All I know is that when my husband died, a few weeks after Nathaniel turned seven-and-ten, Nathaniel kept on traveling to London. Every week, without fail. I tried to follow him once, but I lost sight of him.”
A thought popped into Leah’s mind, remembering the strange conversation between Nathaniel and the old man, outside the theatrical tent at the winter extravaganza. “Did you have a kennel master at Bergfield Manor?”
“No,” Abigail replied, eyeing Leah with curious eyes. “My husband hated dogs. Hated all animals, in truth, so he never hunted. He did not like to ride horses.”
Leah nodded, frowning down into the brown liquid of her tea. Why did he lie? Who was that old man he was talking to if not the kennel master?
“Might I ask what your theories are?”
Abigail shrugged. “They are foolish. My husband was involved with many unsavory characters, and I assumed my dear Nathaniel was trying to keep us safe from whatever trouble my husband had mired us in when he died.” Her breath caught in his throat. “He was killed, you see. Killed by men he owed money to, by all accounts, though I told the newspapers he was some sort of hero in the wrong place at the wrong time. I did it to protect us, and while they eventually caught and sentenced the man who actually committed the murder, I have always wondered if Nathaniel continued to bear his father’s burden.”
Leah felt sick, her stomach churning with every piece of information she swallowed down.Killed?She knew people died in tragic and terrible ways, but she had always assumed it did not happen to those in high society. Then again, Nathaniel’s father sounded like he belonged with ruffians and vagabonds, not theton.
“Have you ever known your son to be acquainted with an old man—sort of… grizzled in appearance and quite short and thin? His name might or might not be 'Bill' or something similar,” Leah asked, her heart racing like she was approaching a secret door hidden in a basement, not knowing what she might find behind it.
“Do you mean Bill Hodge?” Abigail looked startled.
“Perhaps. Is he an acquaintance of Nathaniel?”
Abigail nodded stiffly. “He was my husband’s second-in-command, if you like. He would sometimes bring Nathaniel home when my husband wished to stay longer in London.” She paused. “Not an unpleasant man. I think he was bound to my husband in some way, but how is it possible you know of him? I assumed he had died years ago.”
“Just something I overheard,” Leah said, uncertain of how much she could say without it reaching Nathaniel’s ears. “But if I may, can I ask why you have told me this story of yours? I am grateful for your trust, but… are you worried about Nathaniel being like his father? Are you trying to warn me?”
Abigail stared at Leah as if she were quite mad. “Not at all, I am… just trying to paint you a more detailed picture of my son, I suppose. He does not show his vulnerability to anyone, does not behave as if he has struggled, and though, perhaps, it is not my place, I thought you should know that he is someone who has earned peace and happiness. If you two are falling in love, I want you to be someone who understands and can care for him in a way he was never cared for.”
“Oh…”
“I thought he needed someone quiet and bland but pretty enough.” Abigail hiccupped. “I was wrong. You are precisely the sort of lady he needs. Someone who can amuse him, cheer him, be unafraid of him, and understands what a rare man they have. After all, you have sat through my story, and you have listened. Many other ladies would have fled or asked too many questions or tried to defend my husband’s actions. How you have composed yourself tells me that my son was right about you, and I was mistaken.”
Leah lowered her gaze, hoping it looked like bashfulness.What are we doing? We are raising the hopes of too many people.And though she could not admit it, she knew she was included in that increasing group. Hearing his story, she should have been terrified that the son was like the father, but there was no fear, just a fearsome desire to go directly to the botanical gardens and run up to him, throw her arms around him, and hold him so tightly that he would know she never planned to let go.
“I care for him,” she said quietly, confessing it to herself as much as Abigail.
Abigail nodded. “I can see that you do. I have never seen him happier, Leah, and nothing cheers my soul more than seeing him… lighter in himself. It is as if you have come along and taken a great burden from him that he did not realize he was carrying.”
“You have all endured so much.” Leah’s throat tightened, her heart calling out to Nathaniel. “I am sorry that you had to live through that.”
