Christmas with His Wallflower Wife

by Janice Preston

  The lengthy journey, and the two days at Clystfield with no word from Alex, had taken their toll on her and her reflection in the mirror confirmed the truth of Olivia’s bald announcement that she looked worn to a frazzle. During the day it was easier to keep her thoughts from straying too often to her infuriating spouse, and from fretting about what he was hiding from her. She filled the hours with playing with Julius and Daisy who, although twins, were not identical, and sharing Liberty’s excitement at being with child. There was always someone around to chat to, drowning out the arguments raging inside her head. But at night sleep proved elusive as she grappled in vain to find a solution to this impasse.

  What if he did not follow her? Would she return, with her pride battered and bruised? Or would she...could she...stay strong? She wasn’t oblivious to the fact that no one of her acquaintance—and certainly not Papa and her stepmother—would shelter a wife from her husband if he wanted her to return. Apart from, perhaps, the Duke. He might very well find a solution for her, but she knew that once he became involved, Alex would be lost to her.

  Her throat thickened at that thought.

  Alex was all she had ever wanted. But why did he have to be so complicated?

  You knew what he was like before you wed him.

  Yes, but I—

  Would you rather be married to Pikeford?

  No, but—

  Be grateful for what you’ve got. So what if it isn’t perfect. Life rarely is.

  But it was almost perfect! I just want to understand what went wrong!

  She was utterly weary.

  * * *

  That evening after dinner, Jane sat at the pianoforte while the others gathered around a card table but they had barely settled into their game of whist when a thunderous knocking at the front door interrupted them. Romeo, who had been dozing in front of the fire, shot to his feet, barking frenziedly. Jane’s fingers stilled, her heart thudding, as Dominic strode from the room, Romeo dashing ahead of him.

  ‘I do hope there is nothing amiss.’ Liberty’s hand rested protectively on her gently rounded belly.

  Voices sounded in the hall—among them a voice that raised Jane’s hopes as well as her hackles. Alex. And all her fragmented worries and arguments clarified, as if by magic.

  Yes, she loved Alex, but he needn’t think she would meekly return home simply because she was married to him. It was time for him to prove he had followed her for the right reasons, and not merely because she was his wife.

  I must remain resolute if I want him to respect me and not take me for granted.

  Liberty had recognised the voice, too, and she moved to stand behind Jane. She squeezed her shoulder.

  ‘Know that we will stand by you, Jane.’

  Jane reached up to pat Liberty’s hand, grateful for her quiet support. They waited in silence as the low murmur of voices filtered into the room. Jane had heard Dominic pacifying Alex enough times over the years to imagine what was being said. She waited, her heart beating hard in her chest, her mouth dry. Then he came in, windblown and wild-eyed, and she couldn’t stop herself.

  ‘Alex!’ She ran to him, taking the hands that reached for her. ‘You look...’ She stopped, realising the absurdity of anything she might say at this point.

  You look distraught?

  Of course, he would answer. My wife left me.

  You look desperate?

  The same answer.

  You look angry.

  The same.

  His tiger eyes bore into hers as he moistened his lips. And she saw he was nervous, too, but she dredged up that resolve and hardened her heart. If she followed her usual instinct to soothe and to forgive, nothing would change. She wanted the early closeness of their marriage back but, more importantly, she needed to understand what had changed. And why.

  But she knew Alex wouldn’t easily share his innermost feelings or relinquish his secrets.

  She slid her hands from his. ‘You followed me. Why?’

  ‘I missed you.’

  She stayed silent, holding his gaze.

  ‘I apologise for my behaviour.’

  She turned aside, maintaining her blank expression as her heart sank. Same old Alex. An apology...words...it was too easy for them to be meaningless.

  Olivia jumped up from the card table. ‘I knew there was more to this than you told us, Jane.’

  Hugo’s arm shot out to restrain his wife. He rose, too, wrapping his arm around Olivia’s waist and hugging her into his side.

  ‘We’ll leave you two to talk.’

  ‘Hugo—’

  ‘This is not our business, Trouble. Let us leave Alex and Jane to talk.’

  Olivia bit her lip. ‘Oh, very well. But if we don’t see you again this evening, please note I expect you to be here in the morning, Alexander, so no slipping away at dead of night.’

  ‘I’m going nowhere,’ Alex said.

  Fingers of desire stroked down Jane’s spine at the resolve in his voice.

  ‘Berty...’ Dominic extended his hand to his wife.

  Liberty went to him, but she hesitated as she passed Jane, her deep blue gaze questioning. Jane nodded, flicking her a reassuring smile, and Liberty and Dominic followed the other two from the room, closing the door behind them.

  Alex immediately began to pace. Jane watched him a few moments before crossing to sit on the sofa, once more reining in that urge to go to him, to comfort him—such a natural part of her character, especially when it came to Alex. But she did help ease the way into the conversation they must have.

  ‘Mayhap I should apologise to you?’

  ‘What?’

  He sat beside her, tried to gather her hands in his, but she pulled them away, swivelling to face him.

  ‘You owe me no apology, Janey.’ His brow furrowed as his tiger eyes searched her face. ‘I don’t blame you for coming here.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that. What I mean is... I am forced to wonder if, in trying to help you, I contributed to this...’ she lifted her hands in a hopeless gesture ‘...this situation. You’ve been pushing me away, Alex. I could see the more I tried to persuade you to talk to me, the faster you retreated, and I know you felt unfairly harried. But I don’t wish to be a wife who meekly accepts her husband’s behaviour and can never challenge him. Especially when she is convinced he’s in pain.

  ‘I’ve had time to think in the days since I left. I am so afraid you will never allow anyone close enough to truly help you and I am exhausted. I cannot go on supporting you when you clearly do not trust me with what is troubling you.’

  Alex leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, and thrust his fingers through his hair.

  ‘I wanted to tell you the truth... I want to. But it’s more complicated than you realise. What I know...it doesn’t affect me alone.’ He hauled in a tortured breath. ‘But...you are right. We should have no secrets between us. I will tell you the truth.’

  At last.

  ‘Then tell me. All of it. Please, Alex. Help me understand what changed. I cannot bear the thought of going home with you, only for all this to start up all over again.’

  ‘I will.’ Alex scrubbed his hands over his face. ‘I’ve been an utter fool, Janey. I thought I could cope with it myself. I was wrong.’ He surged to his feet and again paced the room. ‘How stupid can one man be?’ The words spat out. ‘I thought I was protecting you...protecting my family.’

  ‘Tell me!’

  Her nerves buzzed with the need to do something...to help...but how could she help when she still had no clue what he was talking about? This, surely, had to be about more than him finding his mother’s body. Alex flung himself on to the sofa again.

  ‘When the nightmares first returned at the Abbey, all I could recall was the beginning. They’re always the same: I hide from our tutor, Mr Brockley, and then I am o
utside playing. And I find myself near the old summer house and I walk towards it. And then I would wake up.’ He dragged in a deep breath. ‘Then I realised that, in my dreams, my mother was walking by my side. And I thought it couldn’t possibly be right because I knew what really happened was that her d-dead body was w-wait—’ His voice thickened, and he stumbled over the words. He scrubbed his hands over his face again, clearing his throat. ‘Was waiting for me in the summer house.’

  He looked at her, his eyes clouded with pain. As a tear fell, she reached to brush it away.

  ‘I thought my dreams weren’t real. I thought they’d become confused with the image of Pikeford attacking you. I thought I knew what happened when my mother died, because everyone had told me. But...but...but...’ He shook his head. ‘I never wanted to remember what really happened that day, Janey. I convinced myself it was the dread of what was inside the summer house that shaped my nightmares.’

  His attempt at a smile wobbled. He dashed one hand across his eyes, but he didn’t even try to conceal his tears from her. Her heart opened, like a flower to the sun, and she moved closer, placing her hand on his thigh. Offering comfort.

  ‘Then images began to flash into my mind. When I was awake.’ He paused, swallowing audibly.

  ‘She wore a yellow gown...smelled of roses... I remember his boots, moving in step with her slippers... He pushed her to the floor. I didn’t understand what was happening at the time but I know now. He forced himself on her and, when she pleaded with him to stop, he put his hands around her neck...squeezing until she was still. I... I thought he would see me. He only had to turn his head, and I would see his face...his eyes...’

  He shuddered, and buried his face in his hands as huge sobs ripped from him. Jane cradled him close, stroking his hair, until the storm of emotion passed, his words echoing through her mind. The yellow gown and the roses... Alex’s extreme reactions began to make sense.

  ‘You have kept that dreadful truth to yourself all these weeks? Why, Alex? Why could you not tell me? I could have helped—’

  She fell silent as he turned haggard features in her direction, his red-rimmed eyes dull. She gasped as the full impact of his words hit her.

  ‘But...Alex...that must mean...’

  ‘I was there, Janey. I saw him kill her.’

  She struggled to draw breath. ‘Who?’

  He buried his face in his hands yet again and Jane put her arms around him...it was like hugging a tree, he was so unyielding.

  ‘Tell me. Let it out. It will feel better.’

  He gulped—half laugh, half sob. ‘That’s what Zach said. He was wrong. I told Lascelles, but the relief was fleeting.’

  A shard of pain stabbed Jane’s heart. He’d told Anthony Lascelles the truth, but he’d been unable to trust her? She thrust down the hurt and the sense of betrayal to deal with later. At this moment, Alex was more important.

  ‘Tell me. Come on, Alex. How bad—?’

  ‘It was Father!’

  Jane gasped. ‘Your—? No! Alex...that cannot be true.’

  ‘It is. My father killed my mother and I did nothing to stop him. And now...I don’t know what to do, Janey. How can things ever be right, ever again?’

  Sobs shuddered through him again. Jane held him, stroking his hair, struggling to assimilate what he’d told her. When he finally quieted, she said, ‘I cannot believe you have kept this buried all this time.’

  ‘What choice did I have? I wanted to protect you from having to face the others, and having to keep it secret. But now—somehow—you will have to manage.’

  ‘Keep it secret? Alex! You cannot mean it. You must tell the others. Between you...between all of us...we will work out what to do.’ She framed his face, searching his eyes. ‘Are you absolutely certain it is a true memory, and not a nightmare come to haunt your waking hours?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. I wish I could believe that—it’s what I told myself when I first saw him. But then...that day we argued about coming here... I saw him as clear as I see you now. They were his hands around her neck.’

  Jane frowned. That was the day Lascelles had hurt Mist. She had told Alex about that, before their argument. Before he had run off. ‘And you still went to Lascelles and talked to him rather than to me?’

  ‘I regret that now, but I did it to protect you, and to protect my family. I wouldn’t wish this knowledge on my worst enemy, let alone you. But...now you do know. And it is to stay between us, Jane.’

  Jane leapt to her feet. ‘No.’

  Alex stared up at her. ‘No?’

  ‘We cannot keep this...this abomination to ourselves. If it was your father...he killed another person. He broke the law. We cannot keep that secret.

  ‘Look what trouble you’ve caused already with your secrets and your conviction that you alone know what is best for everyone,’ she added, unable to hide her bitterness. ‘You have hurt me; you have shattered my trust in you, by choosing to confide in a man like Anthony Lascelles rather than in me, when I’ve always been your loyal friend, and—in choosing him over me—you have spoiled our marriage after we were so happy in the beginning...’

  She paused, somewhat breathless after her tirade. She fought her burning need to try to resolve their personal differences here and now, guiltily aware this was the wrong time. First they must work out how to deal with this dreadful revelation about the Duke, and she must help Alex and the others find a solution.

  ‘It will not do to keep this secret, Alex. You cannot make decisions of this magnitude on behalf of your entire family. At the very least you need to talk to Dominic.’

  Alex slumped back, his brow furrowed. Jane waited. Finally, he pushed himself to his feet.

  ‘Very well. If that is what it will take to make things right between us, we will talk to the others. I only hope you are right and this doesn’t rip my entire family to shreds.’ He grabbed Jane’s hand and towed her to the door. ‘Where is my brother?’ he asked a passing maid.

  The maid curtsied. ‘I’ve just served the tea tray in the parlour, milord.’

  Alex strode along the hall, Jane stumbling in his wake, until he slammed to a halt about six feet from the closed parlour door.

  ‘I cannot,’ he choked out. ‘I don’t know what to say...or how to say it.’

  Jane placed her hand on his chest, feeling his heart thudding against her palm. ‘You will find the words. And I will be there with you.’

  He drew in a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and she glimpsed the old Alex...the lad full of swagger no matter what trouble he was in. The Alex who never allowed doubt or fear to slow him down. The Alex who lived live to the full and to hell with the consequences. He’d changed as he had matured, but that same defiant, cocksure lad was still in there somewhere. It was then she knew he would cope with this, as he had coped with so much throughout his life.

  Alex thrust the door open and stepped through it. Jane slipped past him to sit at the back of the room as the murmur of voices died away.

  ‘I have something to tell you.’

  Alex repeated his tale, punctuated by gasps of horror and vehement denial from his listeners, but Jane only half listened, her thoughts trapped in ever-circling questions about their future.

  Alex had finally confided in her but only, in the end, because he’d been forced into it. She longed for the assurance that he saw her as more than just his wife. His possession. Even though, in law, that is what she was. She accepted she must return to Foxbourne—she had nowhere else to go, especially now with this news about the Duke—but she must stay strong and do so on her own terms.

  A low cry jerked her from her thoughts. Olivia’s head was bent into Hugo’s chest, his arms around her trembling body. Liberty, eyes round with horror, appeared frozen in time. Dominic and Alex faced one another, nose to nose, fingers jabbing, Dominic’s face dark with anger. They were so
alike, especially in profile as they were now.

  ‘You’re wrong! Father would never...he’s not that sort of man. When have you ever known him raise a hand to any of us? Never, that’s when!’

  Alex’s chin jutted forth. ‘I know what I saw. I couldn’t make it up...the yellow dress, the wooden floor against my cheek. I saw it!’

  Jane hated them arguing but she wasn’t sorry she’d made Alex tell the others. He shouldn’t carry this burden alone.

  ‘But what reason could he have?’ Dominic demanded. ‘Why, Alex? Tell me. Why would he do it?’

  ‘She had lovers. You’ve heard the rumours and innuendo, I know you have. Even Lascelles—’

  ‘Lascelles? Anthony Lascelles? What the devil has he to do with this unholy mess?’

  ‘He’s back. Living at Halsdon Manor. He let it slip this evening—he was her lover! And he wasn’t the only one!’ Alex spun on his heel and marched across the room, murder in his eyes.

  This evening? Jane’s stomach lurched. Lascelles had come down to Devonshire with Alex? She’d thought...hoped...Alex had come to save their marriage. Why would he bring Lascelles, knowing how she felt about the man?

  ‘Who is Anthony Lascelles?’ Liberty asked.

  ‘He’s my father’s cousin and a slimy, evil scoundrel,’ Olivia declared. ‘I had no idea he was back in England. Does Papa know?’

  ‘No.’ Jane kept her attention on Alex, recognising the effort it was taking for him to pull himself together. ‘He begged us not to tell any of the family... He said he wanted to meet your father in London, on neutral ground, in order to make his peace with him and your stepmother.’

  ‘Hah! Make his peace. What a bouncer!’ muttered Olivia, as Alex strode back to face Dominic again.

  ‘There is your motive, Brother. Jealousy. Rage. He couldn’t bear her playing him false. I heard him—“I will never let you go!”’

  Jane started at Alex’s words as they triggered a memory...she frowned, grasping for a thought that fluttered just beyond her reach. She put her hands over her ears to block out the raised voices, sifting through conversations about Alex’s mother.