Chapter 37

37

The wind howled through the garden, whipping Patience's skirts about her ankles as she knelt amid the rosebushes. Thorns pricked at her hands through the thin gloves as she carefully snipped away diseased leaves, her shears trembling slightly. The overcast sky hung heavy and gray above, promising a storm.

Patience gazed at the drooping buds of the damask rose, already succumbing to the relentless assault of black spot, a common fungal disease that weakened roses before they could even bloom.

How fitting that they should mirror the state of her own heart, she thought bitterly. The man she loved, the man who had awakened feelings in her she never knew she was capable of, was the same man who had killed her brother.

And yet, like the pretty damask rose, she lacked the strength of the hardy gallica rose.

She also lacked Dorian.

Hot tears stung her eyes, and a strangled sob escaped her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall .

Her family had been quite distressed to see her return. Everybody knew she had broken Dorian's condition that she couldn't leave him for one year. Things had finally started to improve for them; with the debts paid, some of her papa's meager income went to buy the food that Patience no longer grew. However, the biggest improvement in their position would come after one year, so they still couldn't afford to hire servants or do the larger repairs that Rose Cottage sorely needed. Still, their spirits had lifted significantly.

What would happen now with Dorian? she wondered. Would he punish her family for her disobedience?

Even now, thinking of the way he punished her brought a shudder of desire. Despite her pain at his betrayal, and her broken heart, she still wanted him.

Still loved him.

"Patience?"

Anne's gentle voice broke through her thoughts. Her sister approached, her golden locks teased by the wind, her kind blue-gray eyes filled with concern. Just like the day Papa had brought the news of Patience's engagement, Anne knelt beside her on the damp earth. She laid a comforting hand on Patience's shoulder.

"Some things never change," she chuckled. "Even as a duchess, Patience still takes care of her roses."

Patience chuckled softly as she cut off yet another diseased leaf. "Have you been working on another mathematical treatise?" she asked.

"Of course," said Anne. "With Papa's debts cleared, I do have more time and peace of mind."

Patience smiled sadly.

"Cheer up, darling," said Anne. "Remember the basket? The lock?"

Patience frowned. She hadn't done the basket exercise for a few weeks now. Every day with Dorian, she had felt less and less need to turn away from her sadness, despair, or fear. And she'd started to listen to what those feelings were telling her.

"I don't want to," said Patience.

Anne raised her eyebrows. "No? What are you talking about? You were always the first one to suggest doing it."

"I haven't done it for weeks."

Anne nodded. "That's why you came back so sad."

Anger roiled in Patience's gut. Her first instinct was to shove it down, like she had done her entire life.

But living with Dorian taught her not to.

And she didn't chase it away. Didn't turn away from it or lock it in a basket. She was angry. She had every right to be.

"No," Patience whispered, her voice cracking. "That is not why I came back sad. I came back sad and angry because the man I love betrayed me."

Anne swallowed and looked around. "Patience, darling, are you sure you want to say this all out loud?"

But around them were just the trees and bushes swaying violently in the wind, pieces of leaves and branches flying in the air.

Mama, Papa, and her other sisters were inside. Perhaps she and Anne should be, as well.

"I am very sure," said Patience with more strength than she had ever heard in her voice. "He lied to me. He let me believe he was a man of honor when he had hidden the worst possible secret, let me believe what I wanted to believe. How could the man to whom I gave my heart treat me so? I feel so foolish, so naive to have trusted him."

Patience could feel the handle of her garden scissors pinch painfully into her palms.

She hadn't told any of her family about the truth of John's death. She still felt loyal to Dorian, silly her. She didn't know if she could tell her family their son- and brother-in-law—the man who had saved them from debt—had murdered John.

"Oh, darling," Anne said as she gently pried the sharp scissors from Patience's hand and laid them behind her, as far away from Patience as she could. "It's not your fault."

Patience shook her head vehemently, a swell of anger rising in her chest. "I should have seen it. I sensed the darkness in him, the barely restrained rage and cynicism. Yet I pushed it aside, choosing to see only the good, only what I wanted to believe." She looked at Anne imploringly, desperate for answers. "Was I wrong to love him, despite the signs? Does it make me wicked to still yearn for his touch, even as I despise what he's done?"

"Oh, Patience." Anne pulled her into an embrace as the sobs overtook her. "It's not wrong to have loved, to have seen the best in someone. Never apologize for the desires of your heart. It's just perhaps you should do the basket?—"

"I love you, sister, but please stop talking about the basket!" Patience said and pulled back. "And you should stop using the basket, too, darling. Allow yourself to feel the pain and anger and talk about it. Keeping it inside will only poison you." Patience drew a shuddering breath and met her sister's sympathetic gaze.

"You have changed," said Anne as she eyed Patience. "I thought you had but now I know. You're like…like a true duchess now."

Patience chuckled and turned her face to the wind, letting it dry her tears. "I've spent so long trying to be the perfect daughter. The mask of an innocent girl untouched by life's cruelties felt safe. But I see now that true strength lies in acknowledging the shadows within myself and others. I cannot go back to the girl I was."

She stood, looking out over the wind-tossed garden with new eyes. The storm clouds on the horizon no longer seemed so menacing. Like pruning dead leaves from the roses, she could shed the beliefs and practices that were holding her back and put her energy into growing stronger and more vibrant. She could let go of her past self and emerge anew.

Patience squared her shoulders, a sense of purpose infusing her. She may have fallen in love with a man with terrible secrets, but she would not let him drag her into darkness and despair. No, she would find the strength to confront him and the uncomfortable truths his presence in her life had revealed. She was now a recognized scientist, a duchess in her own right, unafraid to face the realities of life and death, pain and joy. The naive girl who had once frolicked amid the roses was gone. In her place stood a woman armored with wisdom and resilience, ready to fight for her own happiness.

"I must speak with him," she declared, turning to Anne with fire in her eyes. "I'm not yet ready to forgive, but I will hear his explanation and judge for myself the man he truly is. And I will no longer shy away from my own anger and heartache. It's time I seized control of my own life."

Anne smiled and rose to join her, tucking a stray curl behind Patience's ear with sisterly affection. "There she is. There's the strong, unstoppable woman I always knew was inside you. You will weather this storm and come out the other side even more radiant."

Patience nodded, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she gazed out at the windswept garden. She linked arms with Anne and strode determinedly back to the house, the wind at her back propelling her forward into an uncertain but uncompromising future. The Patience of old was gone, buried in the garden with the ghosts of the past. In her place walked a duchess, ready to fight for her own happiness.