Indeed, she would not give him the satisfaction of being the one to leave first… nor would she allow him to see the tears that rolled down her cheeks, dripping down onto the earth where no flowers would grow, after all. For their marriage had been nothing but a Fool’s Spring.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Cyrus braced his hands against the windowsill of the tower, watching the carriage take his wife away from Darnley Castle. It had been no more than two hours since they spoke in the gardens, her escape from him hasty.
This is how it must be,he told himself, over and over, while the tight grip of his hands threatened to break the sill altogether.
It had broken him to have to speak to her like that, behaving so coldly, so cruelly. It mortified him to remember how he had used her beloved stories as a weapon to hurt her, telling himself that it had been a necessary evil. She might have doubted his sincerity, otherwise, or pressed him for the reason why he was behaving in that way.
Had she pressed hard enough, pleaded desperately enough, heknewhis resolve would have crumbled. He would not have been able to let her go, and it would have killed her.
“What did you go and do that for, eh?” a sad voice asked from the doorway of the tower.
He did not need to turn to know who it was. “I do not know what you mean, Belinda.”
“You do, Your Grace.” Her sigh carried like a nipping winter wind, prickling the back of his neck. “I know I’m just the housekeeper, I know I’ve no right to speak my mind to my master, but you’re likely to destroy two people’s lives if you don’t ride after her and apologize.”
His eyes burned as he followed the carriage to the gates. “I am sorry for the discourteous manner in which I spoke to her, I am sorry she decided to leave, but I am not sorry about the separation.”
I cannot ride after her, no matter how much I want to.
Belinda’s footsteps creaked on the damaged floorboards. “I have been around long enough to see things for what they are, Your Grace.” She paused. “You might’ve fooled her, but you don’t fool me. You got scared, didn’t you?”
“Not in the slightest,” he replied grimly.
“Very well, keep lying to yourself and to me, Your Grace,” Belinda said, edging closer still. “But I know that her fall did something strange to you, and when you recover from whatever that strangeness is, you’ll regret this for the rest of your days.”
The carriage disappeared through the gates, the sound of crunching gravel lasting a few moments longer. He hung upon every one.
“If I want your advice, Belinda, I shall ask for it.” His voice was husky, like he had breathed in smoke. But the only thing he had burned down was his marriage.
“Understood, Your Grace,” Belinda replied, startling him as her hand came to rest on his shoulder. “I’ll say no more about it, but… she loves you, Your Grace, and a broken heart is not fixed so easily.”
He sniffed, shaking off her hand. “She does not love me. And if she does, she will soon overcome it, as she has overcome so many other things in her life.” The carriage reappeared on the dirt track that led away from the grounds. “I will be but a short chapter in a much greater story; I am certain of that.”
“That is a tremendous pity,” Belinda murmured, her footsteps retreating.
The cypress-lined driveway was not very familiar to Teresa, her sore, swollen eyes taking in the expanse of rather overgrown lawn with vague curiosity. An orchard grew wild in the distance, and a wall hinted at the existence of gardens, every new sight making her wonder if she had been a bad friend, all these years.
The manor was not familiar to her, either. A building of faded beauty, Tudor in style, which looked like it might not have been repaired at all since those bygone days. A few windows were cracked and there were shingles missing from the roof, one chimney so lopsided it would surely topple right off, any day.
Is this why she has never invited me here?
It occurred to Teresa that Beatrice usually came to Grayling House, or they arranged to meet elsewhere, or happened upon one another at balls and dinner parties. Indeed, now that she thought about it intently, she realized she had never once, not even in passing, been invited to call upon her at her family’s country seat.
She glanced down at the equally faded note in her hand, but the address was correct: this was Fetterton Manor, home to the Viscount and Viscountess of Fetterton.
How did I not know about this? Perhaps, it is grander inside.
As the carriage jostled closer to the manor, down the uneven, patchy driveway, she began to think that coming here had been the wrong choice. She had been in two minds since leaving Darnley Castle, whether to go directly to her family, or to her best friend. In the end, the thought of confessing everything to Beatrice had triumphed as the least difficult option.
The carriage lurched to a standstill, and with a deep breath, Teresa opened the door. Her hand reached instinctively for Cyrus’ safe grip, the empty air like a smack in the face.
I am on my own now. This feeling… it will pass.
Raising her chin and blinking back a fresh bout of tears, she got down from the carriage and limped her way across weed-strewn earth to the crooked front porch of the manor.
She knocked, letting the thought of seeing her best friend bolster her courage.
