Absolute Surrender

by LeBlanc, Jenn

  “Look, Hugh, I cannot pretend to be something I’m not. I’ve never had it in me to love, but what I feel for her is more than what I’ve ever felt for anything. I believe I love her. I don’t understand it, but I wish to. While I should be thinking of my responsibility to the crown, I’m not. I’m thinking solely of my responsibility to her. I believe it has become quite painfully obvious that she may not be up to the task of duchess, and I don’t rightly give a damn. When, exactly, this change occurred, I’m unaware. But it has, and I’ve yet to feel regretful. I will see to her, regardless of my station. If Her Royal Highness chooses to reprimand me somehow, so be it. I can care for myself. I’m not fully entailed.”

  The ensuing silence shimmered with possibility, and Hugh latched on to that possibility with both hands. “You would allow yourself to be ruined in the eyes of respectable society for her? In the eyes of the crown?” But Hugh’s question went deeper than this, and he steeled himself for the response. He continued nearly without breath. “You would allow yourself to be ruined…for me?”

  Charles paused, and Hugh knew then, and appreciated, that Charles wasn’t taking this question lightly.

  “I would…I thought that obvious already. Amelia means everything at this moment, and that includes you. Again, I don’t know what that looks like, but somehow we will muddle through.” Charles’s gaze rose to Hugh’s again. “I cannot do this alone. This, her condition, is entirely too much for one person. She needs both of us. At some point you’re going to understand that fully. I just hope that understanding comes much sooner rather than later.”

  Charles realized in that moment, in the speaking of it, that the reason for his own anger wasn’t that Hugh had left him, or Amelia. It was that Hugh belonged with them and refused to accept it. That Hugh cared for him, just as he cared for Hugh. Hugh spoke of forgiveness and apologies being tied to care, to love, but had yet to acknowledge that he cared for Charles. Hugh truly didn’t understand that, even as he said the words. This realization took Charles a bit by surprise. As well, he understood in Hugh’s question where his true fear was rooted, and the rest of Charles’s anger fell away on the realization that Amelia had been correct.

  “I forgive you.”

  Hugh’s eyes widened somewhat.

  “I forgive you for leaving. I forgive the decision. I forgive the moment. I do not yet forgive you for abandoning us, the three of us. Because I now understand what you did, but you do not understand why. When you do understand why, I’ll forgive that as well.”

  Hugh didn’t blink, and Charles waited. Hugh paled a bit, and Charles was afraid his words had knocked the breath from Hugh. Charles moved to shake him, but Hugh took a step back before speaking.

  “No…I, please don’t. You’ve given too much. It will just take a moment…or two.”

  Charles waited, and finally, Hugh said, “I never expected this much from you. I suppose part of me still believed you to be that stiff, immovable force of a man you grew up to be. I will give a great deal of consideration to what you’ve said, and I’ll have an answer for your unposed question soon. I believe I should speak with Amelia first. Before we move forward.”

  Charles nodded, temporarily appeased, then Hugh continued on, a bit dazed. “Well, I want to thank you, for your time. I apologize for disturbing you this night. I promise to see Amelia as soon as possible. I’ve no doubt I’ll be turned away by her family, so it may take some maneuvering to get to her. Though I imagine Louisa would allow me to pass,” Hugh said a bit distractedly.

  Charles held his hand out, and Hugh took it, much like a drowning man, and perhaps he was, of a fashion. So Charles did what moments ago had been entirely inconceivable to him. He pulled Hugh toward him, wrapped his arms around him, and lent him his strength.

  Amelia knelt in her spare room amidst the boxes of memories, attempting to imagine all of it gone. She supposed part of why she held on to so much was because she never truly believed she would have a future to look forward to. Some part of her had always believed Charles would find her lacking, or Hugh would move on with his life without her, and she would be left with nothing but her memories. She liked to have something tangible. With her mind always questioned, she loved that she had things she could touch that reminded her where she’d been.

  However, now that her future was a possibility, she was having difficulty ridding herself of the pieces of her past.

  It should have been so simple.

  But what of Hugh?

  What if he never returned? What if she never saw him again? What if she tossed away so many years of her memories with him, and then had nothing of him to remember—past or future?

  What if what if what if?

  She felt stuck in the moment. Unable to move forward, not wanting to look back.

  Amelia…

  She heard Hugh’s voice in her head and twitched, the sound merely a precursor to an episode. The corners of her vision wavered, and she knew this would be a difficult night. She suddenly wished Louisa hadn’t left her.

  Amelia?

  Her hands tightened on her skirts at her knees as she attempted to fend off the coming darkness. She wished her mind would stop calling her name. She should go to her room, wrap up in her quilt, and try to calm herself, try to sleep.

  “Hugh,” she said to no one.

  He left me.

  …

  That’s not what I’m going to do.

  Amelia closed her eyes and let the swirl pull her mind from the corners and into the dance. She was resigned to let it come, to allow it to sweep her away, off to the other place.

  “Amelia.”

  She glanced to the doorway, where her mother looked down on her as she sat in the middle of the floor.

  “Amelia, what are you doing down there? Where’s Louisa? Supper will be soon. You should be getting ready.”

  “Mother, not tonight. I fear…I’m much too much exhausted,” Amelia managed. She knew this was not going to end well.

  “Amelia, you’ve returned to London. Castleberry has spoken with your father. There’s nothing more to fear. You should be celebrating.”

  As if now that she was spoken for, her illness would simply disappear.

  Amelia stood too quickly, and her hand shot out to the doorway to steady herself. “Mother, please.” She couldn’t be bothered at the moment. She didn’t want to be concerned with the future at the moment, this moment, the moment she was in.

  She could only hope to last long enough to make it to her room.

  “Amelia Marie, you must come down to supper. Your father—”

  “Mother…” She looked up, knew she was pleading with her eyes, knew she wasn’t going to last long. The floor lurched, and Amelia held on to the doorway with both hands. “Mama—” Amelia watched as her mother’s gaze shifted, and she paled.

  A large shadow moved slowly across her, as though Helios’s chariot was chased from the room, bringing night, and Amelia collapsed to the floor.

  Hugh knocked at the Pembroke town house, hoping to be allowed entry. When the door opened, the butler’s eyes widened, then shifted away and back again.

  “Is she home?” Hugh asked.

  Smythe paused, the hand at his side fidgeting in an unseemly manner. Hugh looked past him but saw no one else in the entry.

  “Amelia. Is she home?” he asked again.

  “Sir, I’m to turn you away, should you come,” Smythe said quietly, but he didn’t shut the door.

  “Smythe, is Amelia well?” Hugh asked.

  Smythe merely stared at him, his eyes pleading. Hugh looked past him again and concentrated on the sounds of the house. The scream, when it came, was much louder than it should have been, considering how far her room was from the entry.

  “Send for Castleberry. Now, Smythe. Now!” Hugh yelled as he pushed past the butler and took the stairs three at a time, running for her rooms.

  Hugh heard the gruff voice as he rounded the corner toward her suite. “That is it! This is the last t
ime! I’ll not be made a mockery of. She’ll be taken to Bedlam. I’ll not be ruined by this. You had your chance, woman. You failed.” The strong, deep voice rang through the hallways toward him, and Hugh knew.

  They had just run out of time.

  The water swept over Amelia in a rush, cleansing her soul along with her body. She allowed the hands, all of the hands, to roam where they might—skimming, soothing, pushing, pulling. Her head snapped to the side, and she tried to push the hands away, the pulling shifting her off-balance.

  Amelia.

  Amelia flung her hands out at the clothesline as the sun sank—much too fast, entirely too fast, much faster than fast, as though it had been chased from the sky—beyond the cliffs.

  One breath in, one breath out.

  She looked down at the hands, so many hands, more than four to be sure—so many she simply couldn’t count them. So many. She heard the fabric of her dress give, the popping of the stitches at the side, and she fisted it, held it together, as she attempted to scream.

  Amelia.

  She let go and turned, stumbled, thought she would fall, and she put her hands out before her to catch herself. When she looked down, she was alone. No hands, no bodies—save her own. She was alone, so very alone. The world darkened around her—funny, that, since she’d watched the sun set only moments ago, not so very long ago, but long enough ago that the world should have already been dark.

  She closed her eyes and scrubbed her hands across her face.

  Amelia.

  What is this devilry?

  Amelia dropped her hands—she stood in the dark, alone. She was surrounded by the boxes. Boxes upon boxes upon boxes. Boxes of memories reaching as high as she could see, in all colors…and they were beautiful, so very beautiful in their satins and brocades, tied with bright ribbons and bows. The one she wanted—the green brocade with the linens and the candle wax—it was all the way up at the top, and she began to climb. The stacks were impossibly high, and it took forever. She reached and reached, but the box grew farther and farther away. The towers got to be so tall that they started to tilt from the weight of her—closing in. She realized—too late—that they were coming down. Amelia fell back to the floor, crouched when she landed, then covered her head as she attempted a scream that never came, and the floor beneath her fell away as she dropped through.

  Amelia?

  She concentrated on the voice in the darkness. The voice she knew as well as she knew her own. Hugh. She felt her descent slow as the floor came to her chest, and she lay upon it, the solid reality embracing her. Hugh was here in this darkness with her, and she took a deep breath that truly felt like the first breath of civilization, the sky warming around her, the lids of her eyes turning orange and red and pink as she stared and tried to see him.

  “Amelia mine?”

  She opened her eyes to find Hugh lying on the floor before her, his hand holding hers between them. Why was he on the floor? That was terribly inappropriate of him. He shouldn’t be on the floor…why…wait, what was she doing on the floor? She closed her eyes slowly, concentrating on the feel of his fingers on hers.

  “One breath in, one breath out. That’s all you need concern yourself with at the moment, Amelia. One breath in, one breath out. Amelia, I’m here. I’ll not leave you,” Hugh whispered.

  She shook her head. But he had left her.

  He left me.

  That’s not what I’m going to do.

  Amelia stole another deep breath. “I need Charles, because, you did—you did leave me. You’re not here. You cannot be here. I’ve finally lost my mind, haven’t I? This is what it looks like. It could be worse, I suppose. I suppose I won’t be alone now. Wherever I am, you’ll be with me. I do wish Charles would be here with us as well. Wherever here is. I would feel ever so much better if Charles were here as well.”

  A great sob rent her as she realized she’d spoken aloud, and she suddenly had the fear that giving voice to the words would send his spirit away. “Please, please don’t leave.”

  “Amelia.” Hugh’s voice was different. It seemed damaged, older, and she opened her eyes on him, gazed into those eyes that were so familiar to her. “Never. Again.”

  The moments that passed following those words seemed insurmountable.

  “Charles will be here soon. Only give him a moment.”

  “You left me. Hugh, you…left me.”

  “I’m here now, Amelia. I’m here. There’s no apology great enough for what I did. There are no words that would suffice, my darling Amelia. Would that I could take it all back…”

  “You left.” She searched his face. “Charles was there.”

  “He was, wasn’t he? And it was glorious, was it not? He loves you, Amelia. He truly loves you. He can care for you. He can help you. He’s more than the man I believed him to be, and he’s yours, all yours.”

  “But I’m not all his. I never can be.”

  Her head spun.

  He left me.

  That’s not what I’m going to do.

  “You. Left. Me.” She closed her eyes tightly, forcing the darkness away.

  He left, Hugh left, he left me. He left me, and I was…I was gone. I fell down…down…down…and I haven’t been back since.

  Amelia realized she wasn’t speaking as she reached out and curled her fingers into the top of his waistcoat. His hand skimmed the length of her arm, then cupped her elbow. What happened? Only moments before, she’d wanted Hugh with her. She’d mourned the loss of him. Only moments ago, he had been naught but the memories in the boxes that surrounded them now.

  She opened her eyes. Not now. Now he was here, lying beside her amidst her memories of him. The true man, flesh and bone. “You’re here.”

  “I am. I’ll not leave you again. I promise you this. I’ll never willingly leave you again. I’ll come to you whenever you need me. I’ll be with you no matter how difficult. I’ll follow wherever you may go. I’ll not abandon you. I promise you.”

  Never. Again. She took those words and let them repeat in her mind.

  She closed her eyes again and took an inner stock of her physical form. She was sprawled on her belly, her legs tangled in her skirts. She couldn’t begin to imagine what her mother might think of this. She stretched her legs, kicking her skirts loose and felt Hugh jump to his feet. He stepped over her, then reached beneath her body, rolling her into his arms and lifting her to his chest. She kept her eyes closed and simply felt.

  The light shifted in the doorway, and she concentrated on the heat of Hugh, the strength of him, and her hands tangled in the fabric of his jacket as she held on tight.

  “Charles.” Hugh’s voice rumbled through Charles and crept into her soul as the light dimmed further, and she felt the heat of another body beside her.

  “Let me stand.” Amelia felt her legs slip, as Hugh bent his knees and brought her feet to the floor. Then he held her as he straightened, and she felt Charles’s hands on her shoulders behind her. She took a deep breath and looked up at Hugh, half of his face blocked from the light by Charles’s shadow. She stood there, for a time, between them. Just allowing them to be. Then she let go and moved away from them, into the room.

  “Look…this is my life, in all these boxes. This is the entirety of me, where all of my memories reside. I feared disposing of anything because I believed it was the only place in my life that you would reside in my future. I believed, only moments ago, that I would never see Hugh again.”

  “I—”

  “No, no. NO!” Amelia screamed. She let loose her faculties, threw propriety to the wayside and filled her lungs with as much air as she possibly could as she railed. She took up one of the boxes, held it to her chest, then threw it across the room to break against the wall. “This, this is what I relegated myself to, without you. I was going to live forever in these boxes, amongst my memories. Forever bereft of human touch. I was gone, GONE! How could you? How? You always said you loved me!”

  “I do love you, Amelia!” H
ugh argued, and she picked up another box and threw it at him. He was showered with buttons as the top came off and the contents bounced off of his chest. “Amelia, I was frightened, so very—”

  “You, Hubert Garrison, know nothing of fear. NOTHING! Why? Why did you leave me?”

  “I was a coward. I am a coward. I couldn’t see past my fear to what could be, what Charles would do…I…I’m truly sorry, Amelia. So very sorry. Please—”

  “I don’t know, Hugh, I—”

  Hugh took a step toward her, and she put her hand up. “No!”

  He stopped.

  Charles spoke then, and Amelia turned, seemed to sway in his direction. “Amelia, you were right. About everything, about love, about forgiveness, about everything.”

  “What…what do you mean?” she asked.

  “You were right.” Charles walked toward her slowly. “When you care deeply for someone…you forgive them. As I have done.”

  She watched him carefully as he approached, and they stood there, within arm’s reach, as she tried to figure out what he was on about. Who had he forgiven? He had forgiven her back at the Cliff House, but that wasn’t—

  “He forgave me, Amelia. Charles forgave me,” Hugh said, and she looked to him. Hugh seemed to be considering something, looking from her to Charles. “We belong together. The three of us. We were created for each other.” Hugh turned to Charles then. “I understand what you meant. I gave up. It wasn’t about either of you. It was about me. I left because of my fear…and that wasn’t fair to either of you.”

  Charles turned as Amelia watched. Part of her thought that he would shred Hugh now, and her brain tried its level best to understand how Charles and Hugh were in the same room and both breathing. It was impossible. Hugh said Charles had forgiven him. She stared at Charles then, watched his features. He wasn’t angry—and she had seen him angry.