by Bree Wolf
Watching her walk away, Sebastian felt his heart ache as it had the day of his sister’s wedding, and he cringed inwardly. For a moment, he closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to subside before he took a deep breath. How could he not have seen it? Was he truly becoming like his father? A man incapable of love? A man who did whatever he wanted with no regard for others?
Lotte.
Conjured by his sister’s words, his wife’s sad image drifted before his eyes. Yes, she had indeed suffered hardship, and he had used her hopeless position to force her into this marriage. His actions toward her had truly been despicable. How could she ever forgive him?
Gritting his teeth, Sebastian shook his head. No, he would not give up. Victoria was right. Punishing his father would not accomplish anything. And although he could not set his wife free of the vows they had taken, he could be the kind of husband she deserved.
A genuine smile on his face, Sebastian turned his thoughts away from his father and toward his wife.
Chapter Twenty-One – To Punish or Protect
Walking up and down the window front in the drawing room, Sebastian sighed, glancing out at the darkening sky. While the day had started out promising, it now ended with the doctor called to the manor on Christmas Eve.
After a coughing fit, the earl had collapsed and lost consciousness. Taken to his bedchamber, he had been made comfortable, and the doctor had been sent for.
Awaiting the man’s verdict, Sebastian strode up and down the large Persian rug, arms linked behind his back, shoulders tense. He did not know what to think or whether the thoughts that occasionally surged to the front of his mind were a bad omen for they all circled around his father’s death … a joyous occasion.
When the door opened, Sebastian spun around, eyes searching for the balding doctor, wondering if he would be able to read the news on the man’s face. However, it was not the doctor who entered, but his wife instead.
“Are you all right?” she asked, her hazel eyes searching his face.
Sebastian shrugged, averting his gaze. “I hardly know for I’ve not yet received any news.”
In answer, his wife’s eyes narrowed as she approached and studied him with frank curiosity. “What will you do when your father dies?”
“Rejoice.” The word slipped out before Sebastian had even contemplated what to say, revealing only too plainly how bitter he was and how much he had allowed his father’s behaviour to change his own. Was it too late for him to return to his old self? Was he now doomed to replace the man he so despised?
A hint of disappointment in her beautiful eyes, his wife took a deep breath. “I understand your anger and frustration,” she said, “after all, you’ve got reasons to think of your father as you do. I felt the same way when I−" She broke off and lowered her gaze to the ground as her hands clenched around the handkerchief she was holding. Then she took a deep breath and forced her eyes upward again. “Truly, I do understand, and I know that it is far from easy to step back and allow such an atrocity to go unpunished. However, the man you would have to become to do so would not be you any longer.”
His sister’s words echoed in his mind, and Sebastian wondered if the two of them had spoken about him.
“It will only lead you to a place that will ultimately destroy you,” his wife continued, her gaze holding his as she spoke from the heart, forcing herself to relive memories that quite obviously tortured her to this day. “Instead of punishing your father, you ought to focus your energy on protecting your sister.”
Sebastian sighed. “Don’t you think I’ve tried,” he snapped, immediately regretting the sharp tone to his voice. “I’m sorry. I know you mean well, but she’s married. There’s no way of changing that. My father knew what he did when he sent me away. He knew that the only thing I could have done to protect her would have been to prevent the wedding from ever taking place.” Gritting his teeth, he drew in a deep breath. “Now, it’s too late.”
“So, you’ll just turn away from her?” his wife asked, her open eyes gazing at him curiously. “You simply give up?”
Staring at her, he swallowed. “What else is there for me to do?”
Holding his gaze, she took a step closer. “Sometimes the hero cannot save the damsel in distress from the dragon,” she whispered. “Sometimes the only thing he can do is to be there, to listen and to comfort.” She took a deep breath, and he could see that her own heart bled with the emotions she spoke of. “Your sister feels alone in the world, suffering her fate without anyone by her side. No one to confide in. No one to hold her and comfort her. Even knowing that there is someone out there who cares, who will always be there for her, can help.”
“But I am,” Sebastian objected, knowing in the moment he said it that it wasn’t the truth.
“Your energy is focused on destroying your father,” his wife reminded him. “You married me to spite him. Do you remember how I thought you wanted me to be your sister’s companion?”
Sebastian nodded.
“Maybe that would have been a better idea. I’m sorry I did not insist you reconsider. She’s a wonderful woman, and I feel a connection to her. Maybe it would have been good for the both of us.”
Sebastian cringed, remembering why he had not even considered that option. It had been for a very selfish reason that now continued to haunt him. He had wanted Lotte for himself. He had acted like his father.
Raking his hands through his hair, Sebastian turned away. He could not look at her face any longer, holding equal part disappointment as well as hope for she had expected more of him and still did, more than he ever had of himself.
“Maybe you could speak to her husband,” she suggested, a hint of doubt in her voice nonetheless.
Shaking his head, Sebastian remembered the man’s disdainful look in his eyes upon his last visit. He did not care for his sister and never would. Nothing Sebastian could say would ever change that. There was no hope for them. “That man has neither heart nor conscience. It would be a futile attempt.” Turning around, he met his wife’s eyes. “Please do not believe I wouldn’t do anything to help my sister. I simply think … no, I know that it would do no good.”
After holding his gaze for a moment, she nodded. “I never meant to imply that you don’t care for your sister for you so obviously do. I simply thought to suggest a different approach. Not all goals can be reached or all problems solved, but generally I find that there is something that can be done.”
A wondrous smile came to Sebastian’s face as he held her gaze, determination shining in them. “You do not give up, do you?” he whispered, a touch of awe to his voice. “Ever.”
Instantly, her gaze dropped from his, and a hint of red crept up her cheeks as she seemed to study the pattern on her handkerchief with rapt attention. “This has nothing to do with me,” she whispered, embarrassment in her voice as though she thought his compliment undeserved … or rather knew it to be. “I simply meant to suggest that you think of another way.” Slowly, she lifted her chin, and yet, her eyes didn’t quite meet his. “As they say, where there’s a will, there’s a way. After all, she’s your sister. Is there a greater motivation?”
Sebastian took a deep breath as his eyes sought to meet hers, hoping to understand or at least glimpse a hint of the pain that constantly accompanied her words. However, the moment she sensed his inquisitive gaze travelling over her face, she turned away and stepped toward the door.
Unable to let her leave, Sebastian straightened his shoulders and hoped with all his heart that he wasn’t about to make an enormous mistake. Then he asked, “What happened to you?”
Instantly, she stopped in her tracks, and her body stilled as though she was frozen in place. Then after a small eternity, she inhaled deeply and turned to face him.
Her warm, hazel eyes shone dark in the dimming light as she met his gaze. He thought to see a deep sense of shame and regret rest in them before she closed them for the barest of moments as though unable to face the world a moment longe
r. Then she spoke, and her voice sounded weary and defeated … and it chilled him to the bones. “I died;” she whispered, “only my body refuses to let go.”
Stunned into speechlessness by her words as well as the utter hopelessness in her eyes, Sebastian stared after his wife as she turned once more and left the room.
Who was this woman he’d married? He wondered yet again, feeling more and more determined to uncover the secret that haunted her to this very day.
A part of him felt guilty for the desire to uncover a secret she clearly wished to keep hidden. And yet, Sebastian felt certain that if he did not, then they would continue to live side by side without ever connecting on a deeper level. Never would she allow him near her or share the pain that lived in her heart, and ultimately, his own would grow tired and abandon all hope.
“Are you all right?”
Sebastian blinked, then shook his head and for a moment simply stared at his sister, who eyed him with a hint of concern in her eyes.
“Are you all right?” she repeated, stepping closer, her watchful eyes gliding over his face.
Sebastian cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m fine. I was simply …” He shrugged. “How is Father?” he asked, unable to ignore the cold that once more seeped into his heart. How was it that his heart could be filled with compassion and devotion one second and then only experience indifference and apathy the next?
“He is fine,” Victoria replied, her eyes betraying her true interest as they held his, a question resting in them. “At least for now. Dr. Waldon said it was imperative that he remain abed and rest. However, he did suggest that … it might not be enough.”
Sebastian nodded, wishing he could make himself care … if only for his sister’s sake for the thought of disappointing her pained him more than the notion of his father’s impending death.
“Tell me what’s going on.” Stepping closer, Victoria reached out for his hand, gently holding it in hers. “I know it’s not Father who is on your mind.” Again, she eyed him closely. “Is it your wife?”
A soft smile came to Sebastian’s lips. “You know me too well, dear sis.”
“As well as you know me,” Victoria replied, nodding at him in encouragement. “Tell me.”
Sebastian sighed. “There isn’t much to tell. Every day, I realise more and more that I know very little about the woman I married.”
“But that is not what’s bothering you, is it?”
“Should it not?”
An indulgent smile on her face, Victoria shook her head. “That’s not what I said. I was simply wondering why it should bother you now and did not before.”
Sebastian shrugged, “I suppose I didn’t think about it before.”
His sister chuckled, shaking her head at him as though he was the immature younger brother and she the wiser older sister. “You know as well as I do that it didn’t bother you before because you were too busy falling in love with her to ask questions.”
Sebastian’s mouth opened in protest, but Victoria stepped toward him, shaking her head and silencing any objections he might have conjured. “You know as well as I do that I’m right, dear Brother.”
Averting his gaze, Sebastian swallowed. “Maybe,” he mumbled, trying to ignore the knowing smile on his sister’s face. “But what does … that … have to do with her past and what little I know about it?”
Victoria sighed, “You can be quite daft sometimes, Sebastian.” Rolling her eyes, she looked at him indulgently. “A first infatuation does not require the kind of closeness that stems from shared memories. But now that you’ve walked one step farther, you realise that without knowing more about her, there will always be something standing between you, something keeping you apart, and that’s what’s bothering you.”
“How do you know so much about these things, little Sis?” Sebastian couldn’t help but wonder before the hopelessness of Victoria’s own situation came rushing back.
“It is not from personal experience I assure you,” she said, her eyes suddenly clouded as her own thoughts strayed to the man she had been forced to marry. “I may not ever have loved like this myself, but sometimes I see it in others, as I see it in you and your wife. It gives me hope. Not for myself, but it is good to know that such feelings actually do exist even if I don’t get to feel them myself.” A single tear ran down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away, clearing her throat. “Be that as it may,” she continued, determination in her voice. “This is not about me, dear Brother. So, do not attempt to change the subject.” A mischievous smile came to her voice. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
Again, she rolled her eyes at him. “I saw her leave, and then I found you … well … changed. There is something in your eyes that is different. So, what happened?”
Sebastian shrugged, “I couldn’t tell you even …” He took a deep breath, trying to understand the need he suddenly felt to know his wife. “She said something that … scared me.”
Victoria’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
Meeting his sister’s gaze, Sebastian hesitated. “I’m not certain it is my place to repeat what she said. After all, she rarely speaks about herself and when she does, it’s usually in vague terms.”
Victoria nodded. “Yes, I’ve noticed that myself.”
“So, you spoke to her?”
For a moment, Victoria dropped her gaze, and Sebastian could see that there was something she didn’t want him to know. “A few days ago, she found me in the back parlour, and we … talked.” Lifting her gaze, she met his eyes. “I know what you mean. I don’t feel comfortable repeating what she told me either.”
“I understand,” Sebastian said as the need to know burned in his veins. “But … did she …? I mean, can you tell me if …?”
“She didn’t tell me anything specific,” Victoria said, compassion ringing in her voice. “Nothing about what happened to her. I wouldn’t be surprised if no one knew.”
Sebastian nodded, wondering if his wife was truly all alone in the world. Was her family truly gone? Or had she simply left them behind? Or had they abandoned her?
“I wish I knew.”
Victoria nodded. “I understand. Maybe one day you will. Maybe one day she will tell you.”
Sebastian took a deep breath, wondering if he could wait that long.
Chapter Twenty-Two − Memories
With the earl tied to his bed, Christmas Day was a rather lively occasion, and despite a sense of guilt for thinking so, Charlotte was grateful for the earl’s absence and the family’s joyous mood.
Laughter echoed through the house as the smell of burning wood mingled with the delicious aromas of a hearty Christmas supper. Fresh greens hung everywhere, in doorways and over windows, and added their own fragrance to the comfortable warmth that hung over the house. Candles glowed brightly, offsetting the warm flames dancing in the hearth, and Charlotte felt herself reminded of home.
Gazing out the window at the rigid landscape trapped in the throes of cold winds and icy rain, a part of Charlotte hoped and feared that if she were to turn around, she would find herself back home, her mother and father sitting by the fire. How often had she played a game of chess with her mother while her father had read to them? It had become a Christmas tradition sometime in the early years of her childhood, and Charlotte had cherished it as one of the few perfect moments of her life.
Now, it brought tears to her eyes.
As soft footsteps echoed to her ears, Charlotte blinked her eyes frantically, dreading the questions a tear-streaked face would inevitably bring forth. However, no one approached her, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“That was a truly wonderful meal, was it not?” Victoria mused, her voice heavy with contentment. Crossing the room, she sat down at the pianoforte in the corner while her mother took her usual seat by the fire, yet another needlework in her hands.
A soft melody filled the room−one often heard during the holidays−and Charlotte found herself gritting her
teeth against the memories it conjured. New tears threatened as her heart twisted in agony, torn apart by longing one moment and ripped to pieces by hopelessness the next.
Holding herself rigid, she willed her shoulders not to tremble with the sobs that threatened to burst from her throat. With her back turned, Charlotte stood before the window, forcing the pain back down and locking it away where no one could find it. Then she wiped away the evidence of its presence and breathed in and out deeply, hoping that her eyes were not red-rimmed and swollen.
When she felt herself sufficiently recovered, Charlotte turned around, a plastered smile on her face. With Victoria’s as well as her mother-in-law’s attention directed elsewhere, she thought her chances of slipping from the room undiscovered were favourable.
Taking a deep breath, Charlotte stepped forward. “It’s been a wonderful day,” she said, willing her voice not to shake. “However, I must admit that I’m quite exhausted.”
“You’re going to bed?” Victoria asked, displeasure ringing in her voice, and her fingers immediately stilled.
Without the music to cover her shaking voice, Charlotte did her best to smile. “I’m afraid I must,” she said, stepping toward the door, hoping that the soft echo of her footsteps would drown out the sadness hanging on her words. “I bid you a good night.”
Eyes fixed on the arched door frame as though it represented a haven, Charlotte did not hear the footsteps that approached from the other direction. Only when her way was suddenly barred by her husband’s tall frame did she look up.