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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

T he two women lay out in the last of the evening’s light, beneath a dusky sky, the stars just beginning to twinkle into life. Warmth lingered in the air, though they had a blanket apiece for when it finally faded, and night truly fell.

“You realize you will have to tell your family at some point, do you not?” Beatrice asked, her arms behind her head.

Teresa squinted up at an emerging constellation, whose name she could not remember. “I do, but… I found myself coming to you first. I knew you would not judge. I knew there would be no raised voices or wailing if I came to you.”

“I am glad you did.”

Teresa turned her head. “You did not seem so glad when you answered the door.”

“It was a surprise, that is all.” Beatrice twisted onto her side, smiling at her friend. “I do not like to have guests here, not even those who are dearest to me. I do not know why. I have never liked to entertain in my own home.”

“So, I have not been a bad friend by never visiting you here?” Teresa reached for the bottle of port between them, taking a sip of the sweet, not unpleasant drink.

Beatrice snorted a laugh. “Heavens, no! You would have been a terrible friend if you had come here before now, arriving unannounced. There is nothing so… so… unsettling as unannounced guests.”

“How is it that you are here alone, though?” Teresa remarked, passing the bottle to Beatrice. “I have seen no one else since I arrived.”

Beatrice pointed her thumb back at the manor.

“There is a cook who comes every few days. Aside from that, I am, indeed, on my own. My mother and father went to Edinburgh for a month and took the staff with them, while I serve my punishment here.” She shrugged.

“It is not so bad. I am often alone here.”

“How did I not know any of this?” Teresa gaped, struggling to imagine what it would be like to have to fend for oneself.

Then again, it rather explained Beatrice’s confidence in finding a residence for herself, to live out her spinster’s life precisely as she wanted. She already knew how to take care of herself, not troubling herself with thoughts of servants and running a large household.

“Because it is unimportant,” Beatrice insisted. “It is boring. I detest boring.”

Teresa’s frown deepened. “Were your parents here when you came to Darnley Castle?”

“They left the day I returned,” Beatrice replied, smirking. “My mother seems to think that if she sees me in the manor before she leaves that I will miraculously remain here, simply because she and my father have told me to. I rarely do.”

Expelling an astonished sigh at the secret life she had known nothing about, Teresa flopped onto her back once more and stared up at the sky. Spending time with her best friend, drinking port, entertaining one another, had been a wonderful distraction from her heartache.

But it will still be there tomorrow, alongside a sore head.

“Bea?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you come with me to Grayling House, to tell my family what has happened?”

Beatrice gave her a light smack on the arm. “I already planned to, you old goose. As if I would allow you to face that brother of yours alone.”

“It is my mother I am more concerned about,” Teresa admitted, already hearing the screams.

“Yes, well, if she becomes hysterical, I shall perform the diversion to end all diversions,” Beatrice promised, laughing a rather worrisome laugh. “You will survive this, dear one. I swear it to you. But… I must know something, and you must be starkly honest with me.”

Teresa hesitated. “Go on…”

“Did you love him?”

The question was so small, but four words, yet the weight as it crashed down upon Teresa was a landslide of boulders, knocking the wind out of her.

She had refused to answer it when she had asked it to herself in the carriage here, but considering all her friend had done to help her, she could not deny Beatrice an honest reply.

Teresa swallowed thickly, remembering it all like a book playing out in her mind, scene by bittersweet scene: the two of them, her and her very own Captain, against all odds, edging closer and closer together; the evening strolls in balmy weather like this; the restful slumber at his side, and the thrill of waking up to find him still there, his arms around her; the kisses that never lasted long enough; the utter, joyous miracle of seeing him properly smile for the first time, and all the times after.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, I think I did. Entirely.”

Beatrice’s hand found hers. “I am so very sorry, Tess. If I could change this for you, I would.”

“I know,” Teresa replied, gripping tight to her friend’s hand, like an anchor in a churning, thrashing sea, where unknown dangers lurked in the depths.

He never did find out the ending, she realized, thinking of the pages that were locked away with the rest of her belongings.

Luggage that had not been removed from the carriage, for there was no point if she would be continuing on to her family’s house.

The driver had been glad of that, being without footmen to help, just as the driver seemed pleased enough with his quarters in the manor.

“Tess?”

“Hmm?”

Beatrice gave her hand a squeeze. “For what it is worth, I think you are exceptionally brave, to do what you have done.”

“Leaving, you mean?”

A soft, almost sad laugh drifted into the air from Beatrice’s lips. “No, you gooseberry.”

“Then, what do you mean? What have I done that is brave?” Teresa asked, the port making her doubly confused.

“Fall in love,” Beatrice replied quietly. “My dear girl, falling in love.”

Head foggy with the port, Teresa did not know if she had heard her friend correctly.

It certainly did not sound like something Beatrice would say.

Then again, she had always championed those who did want to fall in love; she just did not want it for herself.

Maybe, that was why—she did not have the courage to spare to face the rejection of one’s heart, considering she used all of her courage in the defense of those whose hearts had already been broken.

“I am not brave,” Teresa mumbled. “ You are brave.”

“Nonsense. You are the bravest woman I know, and always have been,” Beatrice insisted, turning on the blanket.

“Do you know what sort of nerve it takes to attend ball after ball, party after party, even though you despise socializing and everyone around you is a mean harpy? That is bravery. What I do is all performance.”

Teresa shook her head. “I do not believe that for a moment, so we shall have to agree to disagree.” She paused, turning her head to look at her friend. “But I thank you for cheering my injured heart, no matter how temporarily. Truly, I do not know what I would do without you.”

“My sweet Tess, you shall never have to find out,” Beatrice promised, a gleam in her eyes. “Now, another question that demands an honest answer…”

“Very well,” Teresa replied, smiling. “Ask away.”

Beatrice flashed a grin. “Are you certain I cannot exact some revenge on your behalf? I have the most perfect idea, concerning your husband, some raw meat, four badgers, a quick visit to his castle or his townhouse, and all at no expense to yourself.”

Not for the first time that night, Teresa could not help but burst out laughing. “Where on earth are you able to get badgers at a moment’s notice?”

Beatrice tapped the side of her nose. “I never disclose my sources. Although, I can tell you that I know a man who can utterly destroy someone’s gardens with a company of moles.”

Teresa’s mind drifted to the beautiful gardens of Darnley Castle, imagining the molehills popping up, all across the lustrous lawns and neat flowerbeds.

She pictured Cyrus’ face as it had been that morning—a cold and unfeeling mask—looking over the destruction, perhaps with confusion, perhaps with disinterest.

A moment later, the vision changed. She was in the carriage on the way back from town with him, listening to his tragic story, hearing the pain in his voice. He had not been able to look at her as he had told it, the torment etched across his handsome face.

“No revenge,” she whispered. “He has endured enough of that as it is.”

“What do you mean?” Beatrice asked, but Teresa shook her head.

“It is not my story to tell.”

The following morning’s journey from Fetterton Manor to Grayling House was not as lonely as the journey from Darnley Castle.

Despite sore heads and unsettled stomachs, Teresa and Beatrice spent most of the journey playing games and going over what Teresa planned to say when she arrived at her family seat.

Indeed, Teresa felt surprisingly calm… until the very moment the carriage passed through the gates of the Grayling Estate.

“I cannot do this,” she croaked, nerves churning in an already uneasy stomach. “Bea, I cannot do this. We should return to your manor at once. It is too soon. I imagine I could stay with you for several weeks before anyone noticed I was no longer at Darnley Castle.”

From the opposite squabs, Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “Tess, I am more than happy to return to my home with you, hiding you away for as long as you desire. But you will have to face them, so the question is: will it be easier to do it sooner or later?”

“Later. Definitely later.”

Beatrice smiled sympathetically. “Ah, but if you leave it until later, they might think that you are utterly content in your marriage, which will make their reactions twice as… loud when you finally speak to them.”

“So, I have to do this now?” Teresa groaned, her hand on her chest, rubbing slow circles with the heel of her palm. Yet, nothing could loosen the knot of anxiety that pulled tighter and tighter with every roll of the carriage wheels.

“I am not saying that,” Beatrice answered. “I will take you back to Fetterton now, but I do not think it will be to your benefit. However, I can promise that, if everything becomes too much, I will take you back there immediately to escape it.”

Teresa closed her eyes, nodding. “You promise?”

“I swear it.”

Holding onto that comforting vow, Teresa concentrated on her breathing, and not ejecting the contents of her stomach, as the carriage rattled on down the lengthy driveway. A path she knew so well that she could guess the moment the carriage would stop in front of the entrance, down to the second.

All too soon, the carriage came to a standstill.

“Be as brave as I know you are,” Beatrice urged, opening the door. “You are still a duchess, after all—you outrank everyone in that house.”

“Unless Isolde is here,” Teresa pointed out, then realized the stupidity of the sentiment. “Goodness, I hope she is. I fear I shall need all the support I can get.”

With that in mind, she grabbed her cane and stepped out onto the driveway, leaning on it as she hobbled toward the entrance. Beatrice hurried to take her arm, offering assistance over the last few steps, until there was nothing to do but knock… and pray that her family were fortuitously elsewhere.

“Lady Teresa!” the housekeeper gasped as she opened the door, a smile forming instantly. “Goodness, sorry—I mean, Your Grace! To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”

Teresa took a shaky breath. “Are my family at home?”

“Certainly, Your Grace,” the housekeeper replied brightly, dashing Teresa’s hopes.

“Might you be so kind as to gather them in the drawing room for me?”

The housekeeper frowned a little. “Why, yes, of course. Is everything well, Your Grace? Is your husband not with you? We were sorry not to see you after your wedding. Cook was beside herself when she heard you had gone directly to your new residence, but… Heavens, would you listen to me, rambling like this?” She laughed.

“I shall fetch everyone to you at once, Your Grace. Would you like tea?”

“Yes, thank you,” Teresa replied, entering her childhood home, feeling oddly like a stranger.

With Beatrice at her side, Teresa made her unsteady way to the main drawing room. There, she took up her usual seat on the settee, while Beatrice placed herself on the window seat—not part of what would be a family conversation, but not so far that she would not be able to swoop in if required.

Now, all they had to do was wait.

“Tessie!” Prudence arrived first, tearing into the room like a whirlwind.

She launched herself at Teresa, squeezing her in the tightest of hugs.

“I could not believe it when they said you were here! Mercy, how I have missed you. Mama is driving me to distraction. I shall smother her; I swear that I shall.”

Teresa managed a stiff laugh as she hugged her youngest sister in return. “I have missed you too, but I must insist on you refraining from smothering Mother.”

“Very well, but only because you asked,” Prudence said, beaming from ear to ear as she pulled away. “So, why are you here? Do you have exciting news?”

Teresa cast a discreet glance at Beatrice. “You will find out soon, Pru. Have a little patience. You must wait until everyone is here.”

“Am I going to have a new niece or nephew?” Prudence pressed regardless, bringing a blush to Teresa’s cheeks and a faint sting to her eyes.

Fortunately, she was spared from having to answer by the arrival of her mother and brother, who appeared to be in the midst of an argument.

“I will not agree to that much as a dowry, Mother,” Vincent muttered. “There is no need to be so extravagant anymore. Everything is well now. I cannot remember the last time anyone mentioned the scandal.”

“Yes, but it would not hurt ,” Julianna insisted, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, anyone would think you did not want to see your last sister get married. The sum you have agreed upon is barely enough to tempt a baronet!”

Prudence nudged Teresa in the ribs. “Do you see what I have to content with? Both of them like to talk as if I am not here.”

“Yes, I remember that,” Teresa whispered back, her heart lurching into her throat.

Evidently, she could not have picked a worse time to come here and inform them that everything was not well, she and her husband were now living separate lives, and she would not be returning to the marital home.

“Mother, Vincent, Pru,” she said loudly, commanding their attention, “there is something I have to tell you, and I would ask that you do not interrupt or say a word until I am done.”

As her family stared at her in consternation, holding their tongues for once, Teresa began… and braced herself for the chaos that would undoubtedly ensue.