Perhaps that is not something to be avoided.
The murmur in his heart had him closing his eyes tightly against the sea of pain that threatened to engulf him. If his children did indeed remind him of his late wife, then could he truly consider it to be something that would be too great a torment to bear? Of course, they would remind him of Martha, for they held pieces of her within their very selves. The smile on Mary’s face showed glimpses of Martha’s smile. The deep blue of John’s eyes was the very same that had been within her own. He would never be able to escape from the fact that his children reminded him of Martha, which meant that he either continued to push himself away from them or, instead, move towards them, accepting the pain and the sadness that would come with the joy of being their father.
It was as though the clouds had parted before him, making a gap in the gloom that had wrapped itself around him for so very long. It felt as though he could breathe a little easier now, as though the chains of the past were slowly being loosened from his wrists. It would be difficult indeed, but he could not remain so distant from his children for the duration of their lives in a feeble attempt to avoid the stab of pain that could come at any given moment. He had mourned Martha for a long time and he could not, as Miss Edgington had said, remain living in the past any longer. There was no joy within his life. For a long time, he had convinced himself that this was all he required; that he could continue to manage the estate and his duties without any other consideration towards his own heart or his own children. It could not be so now, he realized, as the words from Miss Edgington’s lips began to run through his mind. He had to put the past aside and accept that he would have to continue on in this life without Martha. He had to accept that his duties and responsibilities to his children had not come to an end the day Martha had died. He had failed in that regard, he knew, feeling shame pile upon his shoulders. Miss Edgington had tried for so long to get him to realize just how much John and Mary needed him, but he had been unable to face the truth. Now, however, it hit him hard, forcing him to catch his breath as he realized what he needed to do.
Throwing himself out of his chair, Stephen strode to the door and, without a word to anyone, hurried down the staircase and out of the front door. The air was cool now, the sun hiding behind a cloud as he hurried out to the gardens. He forced his feet to move but his heart was reluctant, and his desire to turn away from this path growing steadily. But Stephen gritted his teeth and forced himself onwards. It was time for this. It was beyond the time for this. He should have listened to Miss Edgington a long time before this moment and yet, even with that knowledge, he felt desperate to turn away from the path. It was as though the past was calling to him, the memories of Martha tugging at his heart and drawing him back. Even though the darkness and the pain were an agony to his heart and mind, Stephen felt almost willing to return there, almost desperate to remain where he was so that he would not have to change a single thing. There was a comfort there, a knowledge of what his life was like when he hid there. The opportunity to emerge into a new way of living, a time when he greeted his children and drew nearer to them than he had before, was almost fearful to his mind. He did not want to do it, and yet he knew he had to.
“Martha.”
The word dragged from his lips as he came to a small clearing far away from the house. He did not know how he had reached it so quickly for he had felt his steps were slow and restrained. The clouds began to grow heavy in the sky, and the gloom surrounding him growing ever thicker. He was alone here, completely surrounded by solitude, the quiet weighing down on his shoulders with ever-increasing gravity.
His legs buckled beneath him and Stephen went willingly, falling on his knees in front of the grave marker that had been set up here in the gardens for Martha. He had ordered it within the first month of arriving home, knowing that he had a duty to do so. Whilst in one of his sober moments, he had come down to lay his eyes upon it, he had never lingered here. He was not even certain that his children knew of its existence.
Her name was chiseled into the stone marker, with the date of her birth and of her death. It was simple enough, with no ornate decorations, and the simplicity of it seemed to bring peace to his soul. Reaching out one trembling hand, he brushed his fingers down the stone as though, in doing so, he would be able to put all thoughts of Martha from his mind.
“I am sorry, my love,” he whispered aloud, his head hanging low and his eyes squeezing closed. “I have lost myself in grief and have not attended to our children as I ought. I have not thought of them. I have seen too much of you in them and so I have turned away.” A lump formed in his throat and his breathing grew ragged with the overwhelming strength of his emotions. “I shall do so no longer.” His fingers fell from the stone marker and he sat back on his knees, feeling a slight dampness beginning to seep into his limbs. “I must set you aside,” he said, brokenly, knowing that the only way he would be able to draw close to his children and find any semblance of happiness in his life was to no longer allow his mind to linger on Martha every moment that he had. “I confess that I must allow my heart to open again, Martha, even to my own children.” For a moment, a vision of Miss Edgington speared his mind, making him start violently. His breath caught as his eyes opened, suddenly aware that he had thought of the governess in reference to his heart opening once more. Surely, he could not have any particular feelings towards the lady?
Closing his eyes tightly again, Stephen let out a long breath and settled his shoulders. “I shall always love you dearly, Martha,” he said aloud, his hands clasped loosely together in his lap. “But I cannot cling onto you any longer. I must let you go. Forgive me for the mistakes I have made in neglecting our children. I swear to you I shall do so no longer. I know they dearly miss you….as do I.”
These last words were spoken with such a fierceness of spirit that it felt as though he were being carried on a wave, high above the clouds, so that he might draw near to the realm where Martha now dwelt. Stephen flung his head back and drew in great lungfuls of air, feeling tears begin to course down his cheeks. He had not cried over his wife’s death since the day she had breathed her last and he had not meant to do so now – but the tears remained on his cheeks and, as he continued to look up to the sky, more and more came.
Stephen allowed them to fall from his eyes unhindered, feeling a heavy burden begin to lift from his heart as he did so. Something broke within him and a fresh flood of tears blurred his vision, but still he did not hold them back. They had to be let out from within him, had to be expelled from his heart and his mind so that he might find the strength to return to his life and begin it anew.
A beam of sunlight split the clouds and, as Stephen wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, felt the warmth suddenly surround him. It shone over him and onto the stone marker, filling him with a peace he had never experienced before. It was as though his soul was slowly healing. As though he had been freed from the dark memories of the past.
It was time to return to his children.
Chapter Thirteen
“Did you hear what one of the footmen said about the master?”
Jenny looked up with interest towards Mrs. Blaine, seeing the way her eyes had widened slightly and the curious expression on her face. “No,” she said, setting down her tea cup carefully and feeling a slight twinge of nerves. “No, I did not.”
“I should not say, of course,” Mrs. Blaine continued, waving a hand as though such a thing as gossip did not really matter. “But it has been so very interesting to hear that I think I simply must tell you!”
“Well, I think you will need to tell me quickly,” Jenny replied, with a quick smile. “The children will be finished with their luncheon by now and I will need to return to their rooms.”
“Oh, they will only be playing with their toys by the time you return,” Mrs. Blaine said, dismissively. “And Jill can wait with them for a few minutes longer.” She sat down at the table and looked at Jenny with a small smile playing
about her lips. “You know that the master’s been keeping himself to his rooms or the study these last couple of months, don’t you?”
“I do,” Jenny agreed, wondering what Mrs. Blaine was going to reveal about Lord Carrington. “He has made improvements to the estate, however, has he not?”
“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Blaine exclaimed, sitting back in her chair. “Yes, he has, of course. From what I can see, the duties and responsibilities of the estate have been performed in an excellent manner. It is just like as it was before he was married.” Shaking her head, she gave a slight tut as though she were irritated with herself for speaking of something other than what she had intended. “Well, one of his responsibilities was to set up a marker in the gardens for the late Lady Carrington.”
Jenny’s brows rose in surprise. “I see. I did not know –”
“It was done almost as soon as he returned!” Mrs. Blaine said, enthusiastically. “He didn’t waste any time. But even though it’s been there for all that time and even though the gardeners make sure to keep the place neat and well weeded, he’s never gone there to visit, except at the very beginning to see it when it was finished.”
A slight frown caught Jenny’s brow. “I see.” Silently, she wondered why the Duke had never mentioned such a thing either to herself or to the children when it might have done them some good to go and visit it. However, there was not any way she could suggest it to the Duke now, not after her visit to his study yesterday afternoon when she had spoken so freely and with such fierceness.
“Oh, but that is not the important part,” Mrs. Blaine continued, her eyes gleaming. “One of the footmen saw the master quit the house yesterday afternoon, just when it began to go cloudy. He saw him go in the direction of the stone marker and he was gone for some time. When the master came back, his eyes were as red as anything and he was blowing his nose on his handkerchief!” She clapped her hands together as though this was some wonderful revelation. “You see? It is quite extraordinary, is it not?”
Not quite certain that she understood Mrs. Blaine’s reasoning, Jenny hesitated. “I – I cannot say I quite see what you mean, Mrs. Blaine.”
Mrs. Blaine chuckled as though Jenny was being deliberately stupid. “You must see, Miss Edgington! The master has never shown a moment of sadness over his late wife. Yes, he’s been drinking himself half to death – although that’s not been happening the last few weeks – but he’s never once shed a tear or even appeared to be sorrowful.” She waggled a finger in Jenny’s direction. “Not anymore. He went down to visit that stone marker and it’s all come out of him, hasn’t it?”
“Come out of him?” Jenny repeated, feeling tension wriggle its way up her spine. “You mean, all of his sadness has left him now that he’s been there?”
“Yes, that’s exactly it!” Mrs. Blaine exclaimed, looking delightedly at Jenny. “Maybe that’ll make all the difference. Perhaps he’ll be able to find a way to start smiling every so often.”
Jenny hesitated before replying, not quite certain that she felt the same enthusiasm. In fact, she felt a little concerned, uncertain as to what the Duke might do now that he had visited the marker. Have his sadness and his grief have only intensified? And what had driven him to visit it? Had her own sharp words and her demand that he consider his life and his children with a greater fervency driven him to despair?
Her heart pounding with a sudden fear that she had overstepped and done the Duke more harm than good, Jenny rose from her chair a trifle unsteadily and managed to give Mrs. Blaine a tight smile. “I should return to the children,” she said, hoping Mrs. Blaine would not see her fright. “Thank you for the tea and cakes.”
Mrs. Blaine nodded, looking a trifle disappointed that Jenny had not shown as much enthusiasm as perhaps she had expected. “Of course, Miss Edgington,” she replied, reaching across the table to gather Jenny’s crockery. “I will see you for dinner this evening as usual, yes?”
“Yes, of course,” Jenny replied, walking to the door. “Thank you.”
Hurrying back up to the children’s rooms, Jenny felt her heart quicken all the more as she passed Lord Carrington’s study. Was he within? Should she enter and apologize to him for what had passed between them before? Perhaps she should tell him that she feared she had spoken with too much forcefulness, too much intensity, and that she had not meant to torment his mind further.
Hesitating, Jenny closed her eyes and drew in a steadying breath, one hand poised to knock at the door. Then, with a shake of her head, she dropped her hand and turned back towards the staircase. She would leave the Duke to himself and would not trouble him further. If she had been mistaken in what she had said and done, then she had no doubt that the Duke would make such a thing apparent to her the next time they were in conversation.
The laughter coming from the children’s playroom brought a small sense of peace to Jenny’s heart and she allowed herself a few moments just to listen to it before pushing the door open. Jill was doing a remarkable job of keeping them entertained, it seemed!
The door opened wide and Jenny stepped inside. She was suddenly frozen in place by the sight that met her eyes. The Duke was sitting on the floor beside his son, with Mary sitting on his lap looking up at him with adoring eyes. John was busy holding up one toy soldier after another, and with each one shown to him, the Duke made some comment or other. There was a lightness in John’s eyes that Jenny had not seen since the first day she had arrived at the estate, and the way that Mary was looking up at the Duke showed just how much she was reveling in her father’s company.
Jenny could not breathe for some moments, not wanting to move for fear that she would spoil the remarkable situation that was occurring in front of her. She had never once imagined that she would see the Duke in such a light, had never once thought that His Grace would be seated on the floor of the playroom, enjoying being shown all of his son’s toy soldiers.
“Ah, Miss Edgington.”
The Duke’s eyes flickered towards her, although they soon strayed back towards his son.
“I – I am sorry to have intruded,” Jenny stammered, one hand on her heart as she saw the delighted smile on Mary’s face as she looked up at her. “Please, do excuse me.”
“Oh, do stay, Miss Edgington,” the Duke said, encouragingly, patting Mary’s hand gently. “The children were just showing me some of their toys, and John has the very same fondness for toy soldiers as I did when I was his age – although his are much of an improvement on the ones that I owned as a child, I must say!” He chuckled and John grinned, his face alive with happiness. Jenny could not quite believe that such a thing was occurring right in front of her. All of her hopes and her wishes for the children in her care coming true in a single moment.
“Did you truly have ones such as these, father?” John asked, drawing the Duke’s attention again. “Did you play with them as much as I do now?”
The Duke chuckled, the sound filling the room. “I did,” he said, warmly. “Although I had one that was coupled with a cannon. It was a rather cumbersome thing but it was truly my favorite.”
John’s eyes widened. “I think I have seen one such as that,” he breathed, in almost reverent wonder. “But I do not have one as yet.”
Jenny felt her eyes fill with tears. She blinked them away rapidly, not wanting to betray herself. To see the Duke smiling and apparently happy was more wonderous than she had ever thought. His face completely transformed as he did so, his eyes alight with a deep joy that she knew had to come from deep within him. His eyes were no longer filled with sadness, nor cold as they rested on his children. His mouth was not turning downwards and his lips were no longer pulled tight. The lines of strain seemed to have disappeared from his face completely, making her realize that he was truly a handsome gentleman. He was a different gentleman entirely, she realized, her heart overflowing with the sheer joy of what she saw.
“You shall have one just as soon as I can discover it,” the Duke promised John, reaching up to ruffle
his hair. “And I shall get you something also, Mary, of course.”
Mary squealed with evident delight and threw her arms about her father’s neck. John, a little abashed, leaned into his father’s shoulder, tentatively attempting to draw close to him and, as Jenny watched, the Duke wrapped his arm about his son’s shoulders and drew him near. Her mouth almost fell open with astonishment at the sight, even though the joy in her heart brought tears to her eyes. This was more than she had ever even thought possible. Her harsh words and her determination to speak to the Duke openly had, it seemed, not brought him to despair as she had feared. Instead, there was something new beginning here. Something quite wonderful, should the Duke continue on as he was now.
A long, contented sigh came from Mary as she looked up at her father with a broad smile on her face. He loosened his arm from around her shoulders and smiled back at her.
“I must return to my duties now, I am afraid,” he murmured, letting go of John before pushing himself to his feet. “Although, I do have every intention of bidding you both good night.”
Mary looked utterly delighted at this news but John’s face bore a frown. It was obvious that the boy was not truly convinced that this change in his father would be a permanent one, and could not, therefore, be certain that he would keep his word.
“I shall,” the Duke insisted, looking down at John and apparently seeing the same concern that Jenny herself saw. “And not only this night but every night henceforth.” Reaching down, he rested one hand on John’s shoulder, his gaze fixed on his son’s face. “I will prove myself to you, my boy,” he murmured, as Jenny turned away with the realization that this was a private moment between father and son. “It will take time,” she heard him say, softly. “But I shall gain your trust in time.”
John replied to his father but it was too quiet for Jenny to hear. She did not mind, knowing that her young charge would need to have a good many conversations with his father before his trust could be regained. But she was glad that the Duke had made it so apparent and so clear to his son that he would do just that. She had to hope that now, the Duke would keep his word. To turn his back on his children again, to be unable or unwilling to fulfill the promises he had made to them would break their spirits all over again – and with a good deal more pain this time. However, as the Duke walked past her, his eyes still on his children and a slight smile on his face, Jenny felt her heart lift with the certainty that it would not be as she feared. She believed that the Duke had, for whatever reason, found his way from darkness to light and that, as such, would not easily return to the gloom once more.
A New Home for the Duke: A Regency Romance: The Returned Lords of Grosvenor Square (Book 4) Page 11