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CHAPTER TWENTY

L ysander paced the hallway as he waited, hands folded behind his back. His eyes were trained on the floor. He listened as if expecting to hear his name called at any moment. He was trying to concentrate and get his thoughts in order, but he could do no such thing.

Whenever he tried to pull himself back into the moment, his thoughts would inevitably return to that moment in the field when he was sitting atop his horse, smiling gaily, nothing in this world to worry about as everything looked to be going perfectly. And then…

It was the sound of Margaret hitting the ground that shattered the illusion of my happiness. Like a hammer breaking through a pane of glass, it tore me from this dreamscape and landed me back in reality.

He felt sick when he pictured the incident.

Even now, knowing that she would be fine, it was all he could do to stay on his two feet rather than collapse.

His legs shook. His body lurched. And despite himself, he could not help but wonder at why he was feeling this way and what he was going to do about it.

Nothing good, if he knew himself half as well as he thought he did.

A doorway opened suddenly at the end of the hall, and from it stepped the doctor whom Lysander had called on the moment he returned. “Doctor!” Lysander strode for him. “How is she? Tell it to me true.”

The doctor was one whom Lysander knew well, having called on the man dozens of times for his own daughters. He trusted him fully. “She is fine,” the doctor assured Lysander. “A little worse for wear, but ultimately she will make a full recovery.”

“Her injuries…”

“A sprained wrist is the worst of it,” the doctor said. “And a few bruises. A cracked rib, also, but there is not much to be done about that.”

“What can I do?”

“Nothing,” he said simply, which made Lysander wince.

He hated being told that there was nothing he could do.

“She requires rest. Tonight, at the very least, followed by a week of care.” He looked at Lysander and raised an eyebrow.

“That means little physical activity – certainly no more horse riding.”

“Of course, of course.”

“You got lucky, Your Grace,” the doctor continued. “Truly, had she fallen at a different angle or had the horse been in action…” He shook his head. “Well, there is no need to go down that path. That she will make a full recovery is reason enough to celebrate.”

Lysander breathed a sigh of relief to hear it.

Yet where it should have made him feel remarkably better, it had the opposite effect.

For how he had been feeling had little to do with the chance that Margaret might be badly injured – he had known she was not, and calling the doctor was merely a precaution.

The reason Lysander felt the way he did was caused by worries that ran far deeper than a few small bruises.

“Thank you, doctor.” Lysander pulled himself from that frame of thought and wrapped a hand around the doctor’s shoulder. “You have my gratitude.”

“Happy to do it,” the doctor said with a warm smile. “And if you need anything else, do not hesitate to send for me.”

“It shall be done.”

Lysander walked the doctor downstairs and to the front door. There, he bid him goodbye and thanked him again. Remaining by the open doorway, Lysander watched the doctor climb into his carriage and leave, his stomach twisting itself into knots as it had been all day.

“Your Grace…” From behind him, Mr. Jeffries appeared.

“Oh.” Lysander turned about to find his aged head of staff waiting for him. “Mr. Jeffries, you snuck up on me.”

“My apologies, Your Grace.”

“You needed something?”

He bowed. “I was just with your daughters, and they wish to know if they might be able to pay a visit to Her Grace, now that the doctor has left. They are terribly worried.”

His stomach twisted further, joined by a stabbing pain that shot right through his chest. Of course his daughters were worried for Margaret.

Likely, they were beside themselves and would be overjoyed to learn that she was fine.

But that is part of the problem. And I cannot imagine what might have happened had…

he shook his head, refusing to go down that road.

“Send them up in ten minutes,” he instructed.

“It will be done.” Mr. Jeffries offered a short bow and hurried away.

Lysander took a deep breath as he prepared to visit his wife.

He had not seen her since the doctor arrived, wishing to give the two of them space.

In truth, he had barely spoken a word to her since the fall, not trusting himself to say anything.

Not willing to voice how he had been feeling at the time, while hoping that by now those feelings would have gone.

But they have not gone. If anything, they have grown even stronger. They besiege me, wreaking havoc and tormenting me so that I do not even know how I feel. Or rather, which feelings to focus on.

He sighed and started up the steps. Then down the hallway. And before long, he found himself at her closed bedroom door. There, he hesitated once again, his heart beating painfully, his stomach still twisted, his fears crashing down upon him so that he could hardly breathe.

These fears… he had never known anything like them.

Having never truly cared for or loved another, he had never been in a position where he had needed to worry about what might happen to someone whom he loved–yes, he used the word love.

He had not admitted it to himself properly, but what else could it be?

If not love, then he likely would not feel this way.

Yet that was precisely the problem. Lysander had spent so long on his own, with only his daughters to care for, that he had never considered the pain and suffering felt for someone he cared about deeply. And worse than that, the pain and suffering felt if anything was to happen to them…

It had been so close, too. Even the doctor had said so.

A split-second difference, and Margaret might have died, breaking him, destroying his daughters, calling into question completely whether this marriage was worth the effort or if it might have been better to have never grown so attached in the first place.

Still, he and Margaret had not discussed their future.

But the conversation was there on the tip of their tongue.

Yesterday, he’d had no doubt what he wanted.

More than that, he’d had no doubt what Margaret wanted.

Only now… could he put himself through that?

And could he put his daughters through that too?

It was hard to think about. Hard to reckon with. Hard to know what the right answer might be! If one even exists! He could feel himself drowning, so he gave his head another shake and opened the door to his wife’s bedroom.

Perhaps seeing her finally will answer these questions… God, how I hope so.

He braced himself, put on a brave face, and entered the room.

It was late in the afternoon, the sun just now kissing the horizon, so the sky was painted in dark purples and deep reds.

It washed through the room, spreading from the window and across the bed where Margaret sat waiting patiently in bed.

Her wrist was wrapped in bandages, but apart from that, she looked perfectly fine.

“There ye are,” she said. “I was beginning to wonder about ye.”

He grimaced as he reached the bed. His first thought was to sit right by her side so he could take her good hand and squeeze it lovingly.

But he balked at the idea, choosing instead to sit on the bed’s end.

Margaret seemed to notice, her face dropping, only to quickly straighten up and brighten as if nothing was the matter.

“I wish to give the doctor space, is all,” Lysander assured her. “It would have been no good if I were in here fretting, getting in the way.”

“Ye could never be in the way.”

He exhaled sharply. “Yes, well… best to be safe.”

There was an awkward tension between them, unfelt now for weeks, as they had lately existed in a state of comfort and companionship that was easy and natural.

This new tension was all to do with Lysander, too; of that he had no doubt.

It was as if she could sense his confusion and worry, trying to puzzle it out while careful not to say the wrong thing.

“The doctor says that you will be fine,” he said finally. “Bed rest, however. For the rest of the day at least.”

“Aye, he told me.”

“And it will be best if you take it easy the next few days,” he continued, feeling the urge to say something.

“I will instruct the staff to accommodate you in this.” On instinct, he rested a hand on her leg, above the covers, however.

Squeezing it, he looked at her and offered a tight smile, wanting to look as if there was nothing harrowing on his mind, while knowing how easily Margaret could read him.

“Another week and all this will be is a bad memory.”

“I still cannae believe it,” she sighed. “I was certain that Spotty was locked indoors. What are the chances?”

“It was an unfortunate accident,” he agreed. “But let us not worry about it. That you are fine is what we should focus on.” Another smile, just as awkward.

She returned it, and in her eyes he saw hope.

Clearly, she could tell that something was the matter, but she was trying to look past it.

Fluttering her eyelashes. Shifting a little closer down the bed.

As this accident had forced Lysander to question everything he thought he knew, for Margaret, he wondered if it had only confirmed things that she might not have been certain of.

I know what she wishes of me. Before she fell, it felt as if she was about to ask the same question that had been on my mind for over a week. Funny that if she had asked, I would have given an answer that she wanted to hear. But now…

“Lysander…” Margaret’s voice was soft and unsure. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

Lysander swallowed, knowing what it was. He nodded his head and forced himself to look at her, his mind racing as he tried to find the bravery he knew he needed. This is just me overthinking things. That is all. I know what I want. I know what I need to say…

“Before the accident, I was going to…” She shook her head and laughed at herself.

“There is something I have been meaning to say for a while now. That I have wished to, but I hesitated over it because…” She sighed and smiled.

“I do not ken why, honestly. But considering the circumstances, I think now is as good a time as any.”

“Wh-what do you wish to speak of?” he asked, his voice cracking with nerves.

“You and I,” she said. “I think we need to –”

“Margaret!” A high-pitched screech ripped through the room.

“Margaret!” another followed.

They both looked over just in time to see Aurelia and Lorena charging for them. Behind stood Mr. Jeffries with an apologetic look on his face. “I tried to keep them back as long as I could, Your Grace, but they were a handful.”

“It is fine,” Lysander said, meaning it, as he had just been saved, and he knew it.

“Girls!” Margaret braced herself as the two girls threw themselves on her.

“Girls!” Lysander echoed. “Careful.”

“What happened?” Aurelia asked immediately, her arms now wrapped around Margaret’s neck.

“Is Spotty hurt?” Lorena asked.

Margaret laughed. “We are both fine…” She frowned and looked at Lysander for confirmation. He nodded his assurance, even if he was not certain. The truth was, he had not seen the puppy since the incident. But in that, he had an idea.

“Perhaps I should go and check on him.” He rose from the bed. “That will give the three of you a chance to catch up.”

“Oh…” Margaret looked after him.

“We will talk later,” he assured her quickly. As he did, he stepped toward her, leaned in, and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “I promise.”

She did not look happy about the delay, but the girls were all over her, and there was little she could do. Besides, this was a conversation best saved for when they were alone. And they both knew it.

“Tell us what happened,” Aurelia demanded.

“Tell us!” Lorena joined in.

Margaret laughed at their eagerness, happy to entertain, even happier to be the center of their attention.

This gave Lysander a chance to slip from the room quietly. On his way out, he paused by the doorway, watching as Margaret regaled the girls with the tale of her fall. They were both transfixed by it, worry painted across their faces. Oh, how they admire and love her. And how she does them, also.

The sight of it all sent a sharp pain through Lysander’s stomach. He grimaced and held it, as if trying to stuff it away. But it did no good, the confusion mounting in him until he could hardly breathe.

Quickly, he exited the room, hearing Aurelia and Lorena giggle at something Margaret had said.

When this entire arrangement had begun, his greatest fear was that the girls would become attached to Margaret and then resent him when he sent her away.

Not once did he consider that he might not have had a choice in her leaving, and not once did he even think about how his two girls would break if anything was to happen to Margaret.

He loved her. He knew that he did. But was this love worth the cost? Or was it simply easier to sever ties now, rather than risk the pain that might come in the future?

Lysander had lived a life free of love his entire life, and for good reason. People always speak of the positives of marriage, love and romance and happiness. Rarely do they mention the other side of the coin likely because it is too painful to comprehend.