“I do believe this, with all my heart, it only…the situation is so difficult. She thinks…and now Castleberry believes…that she needs me in her life.”
“Perhaps she does. You may know her better than most at this point. What do you believe?”
“That I was meant for her.”
“Then what’s the issue exactly?”
“Her father won’t allow us to marry. She’s promised, and now, well…”
“Married but not married?” Perry asked.
“Yes. Married but not. I believe Jacks will learn to handle her, and they will suit. I believe this.”
“Does he love her as well?”
“I believe he does, though he has yet to acknowledge the fact.”
“So it isn’t merely a cockfight, but that you both love and care for this woman, who loves, cares and needs the both of you, albeit for different reasons. And, finally, the problem, that she cannot have you both. Is this correct?”
“That is…the simple of it, I suppose,” Hugh said.
“So what of you, then?” Perry asked again, a bit more somberly.
Hugh shivered. “What of me? Does it matter? I’ll find some woman who wants to bear me children and leave me be. Perhaps that Elliott girl. I know she would be amenable to that.”
“You’re an ass,” Perry said after a moment of silence.
Hugh looked at him then.
Perry continued. “Who do you find yourself talking to? You truly believe this kind of martyr speech will set well with me? Try again, and this time attempt to avoid speaking like a buffoon. If you wish for the world to treat women better, then you, yourself, must do the same. Don’t pretend to throw yourself away on some chit in the ton. We shall cease being friends.”
Hugh blinked down at his ale, then looked back to Perry, who continued to stare at him in challenge. “We were together, the three of us, and it was one of the happiest moments of my life. One that can never be repeated. A situation that would never suffice. I—” Hugh shook his head, quite unbelieving that he’d even spoken of what had happened in the Cliff House.
“Well, why is it you cannot be together? The three of you? I understand Castleberry’s land is far from London, rather out in the wilds on the coast. Unless you invite people there—”
Hugh shook his head, momentarily shocked by Perry’s easy acceptance. “And what happens to me when they don’t need me anymore?”
“Oh, so that wasn’t the simple of it. I see.”
Hugh felt like he was shrinking into the background. Where once he’d been the single most important person to Amelia, now he was one of two. If he continued on this path, he would mean nothing to her. That was something he couldn’t stomach. “I am too much the coward,” he said quietly.
“That much is blatantly obvious. Love requires bravery, my friend. You cannot be shy. You cannot be lax. You must stand for something, be someone. Amelia needs for you to be something, and you’ve taken that away. In her state, what do you think that’s done to her?”
“I haven’t seen her. I left her at the Cliff House with Castleberry. Alone.” He knew he was becoming agitated. He should have been watching his words more carefully.
Perry looked around, then grabbed his arm. “Let’s go before you damage the lot of you. Come, I’ve a sudden need to kiss my lovely wife, regardless,” Perry said.
Hugh grunted as Perry pulled him up, holding on until Hugh got his legs beneath him. How many pints had he managed?
Amelia dug through the boxes in her sitting room, wondering what she was to do with all of it. It seemed she’d managed to keep so much from her past that her future was to be burdened by it. Trinkets, clothing, even natural artifacts like rocks and leaves. She was overwhelmed both by the thought of moving it and of disposing of it all—for she remembered every single moment attached to every single piece. That was what mattered to her. She had a room like this in both houses, here in London as well as at Pembroke-by-the-Sea. Some of the most important of the boxes traveled with her.
Each little thing took her back, immediately, to the time and place from whence it came, and it calmed her to revisit these things, because they were all joyous memories. That was all she kept in these boxes, the hopeful memories, not the bad, never the dark. She visited the dark enough as it was. There was no use in her keeping remembrances of it. So here she sat in a dim room next to her own bedchamber, full to brimming with boxes of things from the past. And what did it all mean to her future?
She wished she had the reticule, the one Charles had thrown in the pond. But she didn’t, and of course she didn’t. That reticule was at the bottom of a pond. She regretted that, even that in the keeping of the reticule, the moment that had made it important would never have happened. She considered it, remembered that day so very clearly. The moment he’d picked it up and weighed it in his hand to determine the strength with which to toss it. The reticule taking flight, the sun glinting off of it as it sailed through the open air. The beating of the wings from the startled geese as they took flight when the reticule-bomb hit the water amongst them and exploded in a shimmer of water.
She didn’t need the actual reticule to remember these things, and she suddenly realized her memory of that moment might be stronger for it. Because, while in some of these things she remembered the moments surrounding them, some of them she remembered more for the keeping of them. The why she remembered, of course, but the moments, the feelings, the exhalation and reasoning behind the wish to keep? Not as much.
She could live a second lifetime in this room just remembering…or she could go out in the world and create new memories with Charles and Hugh.
Hugh.
Amelia pulled a familiar box toward her. The box held some rocks from trips to the stream and a snubbed candle she’d used to sneak out of her rooms to meet Hugh at the back of the house, after which they ran to the Cliff House and lay gazing up at the stars as they fell from the sky. It contained the linen sheet they’d lain upon…well, what was left of it, as it had become so weary-worn with time that it was no longer truly a single piece. Louisa had tried to persuade her to keep just a square of it, but Amelia hadn’t been able to part with any bit of it. This box also contained pressed, dried flowers that Hugh had given her that night.
Louisa. Amelia looked about the room, wondering where she’d gone off to. “Louisa?”
“Here, my lady!” Her voice was muffled, and Amelia heard shuffling and scratching, as though a large rodent was coming through the stored boxes to find her. Amelia stiffened, though she knew it was merely Louisa, and waited patiently for her to emerge.
Louisa’s hair was a nest of curls on her head. Her mobcap had slipped off at some point and was stuck in her apron pocket. She had smudges across her cheeks, and her nails were rather grubby. Amelia smiled.
“This room is not nearly that filthy, is it?” Amelia asked.
Louisa’s eyes widened, “Oh, no, my lady, no. It’s only that I tripped and fell into a rather dark corner and had to fight my way out beyond the old holly brambles and evergreen chains.”
“Ah, yes, well, those were from the last Christmas Hugh was with us, before he was off to Eton. That made it special. Greens filled the town house with such a lovely scent—though now they’re rather dry.” She knew every single piece, and where it was in this room.
“Yes, dry and brittle and a bit dangerous, like tiny knives they are! At any rate, perhaps we’ll save just a bit of it now? After all, he had yet to tell you of his departure when you saved these greens, milady,” Louisa begged quietly.
“Yes, of course,” Amelia said as she turned back to the box in front of her. Louisa was right. She saved too much, out of fear of losing so many memories. She’d had no idea when she’d saved the greens that they would become special in that way. That was the crux of it. She kept things with the distinct fear of losing something she did not yet have, or even know of. “Louisa, I really think I should lessen the load for the carts. I see no need to take a
ll of this with me…and I wish to make new memories. I wish to…move forward.”
She looked up to Louisa and could see the surprise and concern in her features. Was this choice truly that monumental? These were only things. Things. Yet, they’d meant everything to her at different points in her life. But now…
Now.
Now she wished to throw off the constraints of her life and move forward. None of these things matter. Amelia’s hands tightened on the box before her, and she amended the thought. They mattered in their own ways…but they were small, and she wished to spend her time with the people in her life, not the things of her past.
“Amelia, I can’t—”
“No, no, Louisa, I’ll go through these. I’ll choose. But they don’t need to be packed up just yet. Let’s work on my wardrobe and other things first, shall we? I’ll definitely need clothes.” Amelia took Louisa’s hand and pulled her through the door to the hall. “Now, all the winter clothes are already packed up and ready—”
“What of Ender?” Louisa cut in.
Amelia turned to her. “What of…pardon?”
“Forgive me, my lady, but Lord Endsleigh? What of him? You haven’t mentioned him since you returned, and I thought…well…”
Amelia shivered, then sat in her overstuffed chair. She didn’t know the answer to Louisa’s question. She’d no idea what would come of Hugh. Charles had said to leave him be and to trust him, that if Hugh were of a mind, he’d return to her. But Amelia wasn’t so sure. After what Hugh had done at the Cliff House, Amelia knew that he thought his reputation with Charles, and certainly with her as well, was irreparably damaged. Amelia wasn’t sure that Charles would allow himself to forgive Hugh either. That concerned her above all. It was something she knew Charles could do…but something he’d never had need to do.
Growing up in a household where love wasn’t necessary and the by-products of love were absent created a man who was so entirely sure of himself…Amelia wasn’t sure how he was going to handle the changes. In a mere few days, Charles’s life had been upended. A man who didn’t believe in love, who had no idea what it meant or what it felt like, had discovered it. Not merely in her, but in a friend. For that friend, for Hugh, to then upend all the strides Charles had made—and she knew it had not been easy for Charles—it could be devastating. Yet there was nothing for her to do. Charles had to face this on his own, and Amelia had the feeling that he was going to hunt Hugh down once he arrived in London, after he settled everything with her father.
Amelia felt Louisa take her hand. “Amelia?”
Amelia shook her head. “Sorry, Louisa, I was…I don’t really know.”
“I’m sorry, my lady, I just…I knew he was at the Cliff House with both of you, and he left before you. I thought as he’d reconciled with the two of you and…”
Amelia was sure Louisa wasn’t quite sure how to ask what she wanted to ask, and Amelia, upon returning from the Cliff House, had not shared anything with her beyond that she was to remove to Castleberry Keep at the behest of her future husband. Amelia knew Louisa had expected more from her, for Amelia always told Louisa everything, until now. Everything that had happened at the Cliff House she’d kept to herself, closely guarded. She didn’t want to damage Hugh in anyone’s eyes. It was going to be difficult enough for him to recover with Charles. If Hugh had to fight everyone else in her life as well…she simply couldn’t do that to him.
Amelia turned her head to the window, letting the warmth of the sun soak into her eyelids. She missed him like…the flowers must miss the sun at night. She felt closed, quiet, somehow shadowed, and she knew the minute Hugh came back to her, she would open to him as she always had. She would feel free, basking in the warmth of his love, and Charles’s. Charles hadn’t been the same since Hugh had left, either.
Something had happened between the two men, she felt it. Amelia didn’t think Charles had ever trusted another man, not truthfully. Charles was ever wary of all people, but men in particular. A boy raised merely for the purpose of command had no idea what it meant to love or trust in another man. He only knew what it meant to rule and to be ruled. People were merely his wooden soldiers. Trust was not a requirement, because he was taught to trust no one but himself. He must be solid in his beliefs, that he knew what was best in any situation. He must not second-guess himself, and he needed nobody to tell him what needed to be done. If he couldn’t figure that out for himself, he wasn’t truly worthy.
Amelia and Charles had talked a bit about how he’d been raised, the cold truth of it. The analytical, perfectionist control of it. Lacking of anything requiring trust, love, care, kindness…all the things that meant the utmost to her in her life, he’d been raised to ignore, trained to avoid, and had learned to cut emotion from his dealings.
Amelia believed Hugh had gotten to Charles, and Charles had conceded some level of trust, certainly, but possibly more than that. So when Hugh had left, though she was wholly caught up in her own emotional turmoil, she’d felt through Charles such a great discord that it frightened her. To the point that she’d made Charles promise, on his honor, that he would do nothing to damage Hugh.
“Amelia?” Louisa’s voice was quiet, and Amelia turned to her. She’d knelt beside her and placed one hand on her knee. “Is aught amiss?”
“No, I…yes, Louisa. I should tell you. Charles told me to trust in him…but I fear, I fear that what Hugh has done has put him in grave danger. I fear Hugh has gone much too far this time…and though Charles attempted to convince me that everything would work out in the end—because it must—I’m simply not convinced of that.”
Louisa ran her hand down Amelia’s leg through her heavy skirts, then back up again, a soothing, calming gesture. “Well, my lady, tell me what’s happened and let me see if I can help at all.”
Amelia turned to her. Louisa had been friends with Hugh before she’d come to work as her lady’s maid, and she’d always seemed to have a sort of insight into his behavior. She thought perhaps Louisa had come from London originally, but she hadn’t really asked, as Hugh had told her that Louisa’s past was painful and irrelevant. She watched the concerned face of someone she actually considered more a friend than a servant, though, of course, she was the latter.
The point was…Amelia trusted her. Even so, Amelia wasn’t sure she should tell Louisa what Hugh had done. Of course, Louisa had never judged anything in her life, so perhaps she could hear this and not cast Hugh aside or treat him differently. Further, how would Louisa react to Amelia having been with both of them? How was she to explain this?
Trust. Everything in Amelia demanded that she trust. Charles had asked her to trust him, and Louisa, she’d never done anything that would hurt Amelia. So Amelia would tell Louisa everything, and she hoped, hoped, that of everything she had done in her life, it wouldn’t be this latest action that Louisa determined to judge.
“Amelia?”
Amelia heard the concern in Louisa’s voice and turned to her.
“Where do you keep going off too, milady?”
“I…didn’t realize.” How long had she been contemplating? She felt like she kept drifting away…long enough to draw attention and concern from Louisa. “I have to tell you something, Louisa. Please sit with me.”
“You’re an ass,” Perry said easily.
“I believe we already covered that topic, Perry. Perhaps we could move on?” Hugh asked as he stared down at the too delicate teacup in his hand. After all, if anyone knew what kind of jackass he was, it was he. Hugh shook his head. He should never have come here after all. What the hell was Perry going to do for him? “Can’t we have a bit of whiskey? This is—”
“I believe you’ve imbibed enough drink for the moment. I need to get you clear on a few things, and I need to be certain you’re hearing me. Down it and be done with it.” Perry watched him, rubbing his thumb along his jawline.
“You’re not having tea.” Hugh knew he sounded like a child.
“I’m not behaving li
ke an ass. Wait, let me quantify that,” he said when Hugh opened his mouth to argue. “Previously, I had only assumed you were a jackass based on a few random statements you said in a pub. But now having the story in its entirety, I have the proof needed to determine the actual level of jackassery you’ve attained, and let me just tell you, sir, it’s astounding. Drink the tea,” Perry said stiffly. He obviously wasn’t being sarcastic.
Hugh drank, then placed the cup on a side table before his tension broke it. It was desperately delicate, and when Lady Trumbull had handed it to him, the pride had shown through her eyes. He was terrified of breaking that cup. To see her disappointment when she returned to shards of china would have certainly shattered his already ruffled composure. He leaned forward on his knees, and his head fell forward into his hands. He knew he was lost.
“Do you love her?” Perry asked.
“Ye—I…it’s so much more complicated than that,” Hugh said.
“What’s your plan?” Perry asked simply.
“Plan?” Hugh looked up at him. “What plan? I’ve effectively declared war with the Duke of Castleberry. I may as well have done so with your brother, for all the power that man wields. If I thought I’d be ruined by being with them…I expect to be dead within a fortnight. I have no need of plans,” Hugh said as Perry studied him. Perry was so disarming, just his gaze felt like a fillet knife peeling back layers of his skin.
“Well, if you’re resigned to such a fate, so be it. But I believe Amelia expects quite a bit more of you,” Perry said quietly.
Perry stared at him, waiting for his reaction and response, and Hugh knew he was being tested. Hugh was exhausted. What was it with all these peers pushing his buttons to see how he would dance? It was a constant test of his dedication, courage.
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