7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“ S he never left your side – not for a moment. I felt so sorry for Alicia,” Isobel said, tutting and shaking her head.

The garden party had come to an end, and the guests had departed, leaving only Caroline and her father, the two of them having just left after a lengthy conversation about the building they intended for the school. Ernest and Isobel had retreated to the drawing room, their parents having gone upstairs to rest, and now Ernest thought back to the conversation he had had with Caroline’s father, fearing it would mean a troubled future for him.

“You’ll have no trouble securing the funds, I assure you,” the viscount had said, smiling at Ernest, who had thanked him graciously, even as he realized the viscount was continuing to buy his goodwill.

It was all for Caroline, and whilst Ernest was reluctant to be a pawn in the viscount’s game, he feared he had no choice but to play along. The money raised from the garden part had been substantial. The Duke of Lancaster, in particular, had been generous in his support. But none of the donations had come close to matching that of the viscount, whose generosity appeared to know no bounds.

“We can start immediately,” Caroline had said, making no reference to Alicia, and insisting on accompanying Ernest on his next visit to the proposed building.

Little by little, she and her father were taking over the project, and Ernest had no choice but to be grateful to them for their contribution. He needed it, and he knew, too, the price to be paid.

“She’s insatiable, and then there were the tears. She burst into floods of tears over the children. It’s all to get my attention, of course, but…what else can I do?” Ernest asked, for he felt manipulated, even as his sister shook her head.

“You can tell her to stop being so foolish. It’s ridiculous, Ernest,” she said, shaking her head.

Isobel was not the sort of woman to suffer fools gladly, nor did she take kindly to displays of hysterics. Ernest knew she disliked Caroline, though she tolerated her for much the same reasons as he was forced to do. To upset Caroline, would be to jeopardize the plans for the school. She had power, and she knew how to use it…

“But I can’t do that. You know I can’t. She wants to be the one to take the glory, and her father…well, you know what he wants,” Ernest replied, shaking his head, and sighing at the thought of what was expected of him.

The viscount was keen to make a match – to see Caroline married and her future secured. He was doing all of this for her. The cause was immaterial, but the prize was not. Ernest had given little thought to marriage – though he had thought a great deal about avoiding it. He was not ready to marry, or rather, he had not yet found a woman he wished to marry, though his encounter with Alicia had given rise to thoughts he had not entertained before. She was a charming, attractive young woman, possessed of considerable and impressive talent. Ernest’s memory of the dance they had shared together was a pleasant one, and he would gladly have gotten to know her better, had it not been for the shadow looming over him.

“And you don’t have to agree to it, Ernest. Not at all. Why should you? If he was truly generous and truly cared about the children, he’d give you the money whether you married Caroline or not. You’re not a thing to be purchased,” Isobel said, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“But I… Oh, don’t say that, Isobel. It makes me feel terribly depressed. But…the school…we can’t open the school without his money. You know that,” Ernest replied.

His sister looked at him and shook her head.

“And you’d sacrifice your happiness for the school?” she asked.

Ernest nodded. He knew of no other way, and he was not about to see the children he cared for cast out by the selfishness of a man who would only give away his fortune on the condition of marriage. If marrying Caroline Pickering meant he could help those poor children, then so be it.

“Haven’t I already made enough mistakes? Isn’t this the moment to atone for them?” Ernest replied, shaking his head and slumping back in his chair, despairing at the thought of what would happen if the school was not built.

His sister slipped her hand into his with a sympathetic look on her face.

“You don’t always have to blame yourself for the past, Ernest. Haven’t you done enough atoning?” Isobel said.

His sister had always been generous towards Ernest’s faults. But Ernest himself was less forgiving. He felt a deep sense of guilt for his past and the mistakes he had made. The school for blind children was a way, not only of forgiving himself, but of thanking his father for helping him when he needed it the most.

“But I do blame myself, Isobel. No one else spent all that money in gambling dens, no one else was responsible for the sadness I caused to Eleanor – it was all me, Isobel. I feel…shame,” Ernest said, pulling away from Isobel, leaning forward and placing his head in his hands.

That shame was absolute, and not a day went by when Ernest did not think of the terrible things he had done when his life had been at its lowest. It had all started innocuously enough – the pleasure of the card table at his club. But little by little, Ernest’s habits had grown darker, and ever greater sums of money had exchanged hands. He had swapped the convivial atmosphere of his gentleman’s club for salubrious dens of vice, where fortunes were won and lost, and reputations built or destroyed. Ernest’s own reputation had lain in tatters, and when the extent of his losses had been revealed, and he had finally admitted the terrible problems besetting him, it had been too late to salvage his burgeoning romance with the daughter of the First Sea Lord, Lady Eleanor Simpkins.

“But that doesn’t mean you’ll always feel shame, Ernest. Nor should you. You’ve left all that behind. Father doesn’t hold it over you, does he?” she asked, and Ernest shook his head.

His father had been a model of virtue in his dealings with Ernest’s faults. Not once had he raised his voice or uttered a note of disappointment. His solution had been entirely pragmatic. He had paid off Ernest’s debts and come to an amicable agreement with Eleanor’s father. They had parted ways, and any whisper of a scandal had been kept quiet. But Ernest’s guilt had remained, and he knew just how close to utter disaster he had come.

“I know he doesn’t, but he should. I did a terrible thing, Isobel. If Caroline knew it…well, her father might not be so generous. And as for Alicia…” he said, fearing the consequences if the full truth was ever discovered.

“I think you underestimate her. You didn’t wrong her, did you? If she discovered you’d once fallen foul of the gambling table, would it change her opinion of you in the here and now? I don’t think so. As for Caroline, well…perhaps she might not be so generous, and perhaps that would work to your advantage. She might give up on her intentions,” Isobel said.

Ernest had not thought about it like that, but he also felt certain the viscount would not approve if he discovered the truth about Ernest’s past. The whole matter had been kept a secret, the debts paid off, and Eleanor and her father satisfied. But Ernest’s guilt remained. He felt a terrible sense of debt to his father, even as the duke had assured him repeatedly he had nothing to answer for.

“ You’re my son, Ernest. We all make mistakes. What matters is we learn from them. I won’t hold this against you, and neither should you hold it against yourself ,” the duke had said.

But Ernest had not extended that same generosity to himself. The school for blind children had been his salvation. It had given him something else to focus on, other than his own self-pity, and ensured he did something to salve his conscience, even as the beast of guilt still so often reared its ugly head. The truth was, Ernest had not forgiven himself, and in his darker moments, he could still believe in the possibility of returning to his previous vices.

“Would Caroline really give up her desires, or would she simply use the facts against me? What other woman would marry a man with such a checkered past?” Ernest asked.

He feared the discovery of what he had done, and whilst it was easy to put on an act, his insecurities remained deep-rooted.

“I think you underestimate what other women are like – Alicia, for example,” Isobel said, raising her eyebrows and fixing Ernest with a pointed gaze.

He sighed and shook his head, not knowing what to think, even as the fact of his guilt remained.

“She’s…a delightful woman, but…I fear… Well, there was all that business with her friend – your friend – Lily. Those scandal sheets. Imagine if she wrote something about me. What if she discovers it? Oh…why didn’t I just get on with things myself? I didn’t need the help, but…it’s no use, is it?” he said, shaking his head.

His sister took his hand in hers once again and squeezed it. She smiled at him reassuringly, shaking her head and sighing.

“Only you can forgive yourself, Ernest. No one else can,” she said, and now she rose to her feet, telling him she was going to check on their parents, before leaving Ernest alone with his thoughts.

He, too, sighed, sitting back in his chair, and wondering if the sense of guilt would ever leave him. He had tried to forgive himself, and he knew it was entirely irrational to think this way. But try as he might, the events of the past haunted him, and made him fear for the future, too. He liked Alicia, and it seemed she liked him, too, but if she discovered the truth about Ernest’s past…

I don’t think she’d be so trusting – a man with a gambling habit entrusted with the kindly donations of others? There’d be a scandal, he thought to himself, imagining the faces of the guests at the garden party if they knew the truth.

Ernest had a pile of correspondence waiting for him on his desk, but his heart was not in it that day, and he lay down on the chaise lounge by the window, staring out across the gardens, his thoughts lingering on Alicia, and the unfortunate situation he now found himself in.

Alicia, Caroline…they’d both think badly of me. And if Caroline discovered the truth, the school would be closed before it was even opened, he lamented, for Ernest could not bring himself to believe his sister’s words or find solace in the thought of his acts of atonement.

The past haunted him, and it was with sorrowful lament he went about the remainder of his day, fearing for the future, whilst remaining guilt ridden for the past. In the evening, he found his father sitting alone in the drawing room drinking brandy. The duke would sometimes play the pianoforte – a remarkable feat for a man without sight. But tonight, he was sitting alone, and Ernest’s mother had gone to bed early.

“Might I sit with you, Father?” Ernest asked, as the duke looked up on his entering the room.

“I knew it was you, Ernest. I could tell your footfall in the corridor before you entered the room. I know yours, your mother’s, your sister’s – I know that of several of the servants, too,” he said, and Ernest smiled.

“Your senses are quite remarkable, Father. You’re like a trail hound on the scent, ears pricked, nose attuned,” Ernest said, and his father laughed.

“Yes…that’s one way of putting it, I suppose. The garden party was a considerable success, don’t you think?” the duke asked.

“It was, Father, yes. I was very pleased with the amount we raised, and the promises of help, too,” Ernest replied.

He had been pleased, but it was his own thoughts now unsettling him, and whilst the subject of his past was taboo, Ernest wanted to share his fears with his father.

“You’ve done well, Ernest,” the duke said.

Ernest was glad his father could not see the worried expression on his face.

“Father…do you ever think…about me? I mean, about the past?” he asked.

The expression on his father’s face did not change – it rarely did. The duke rarely gave anything away by his expression.

“I do, Ernest. But it doesn’t change my opinion of you in this moment, now. Take Maximilian Oakley. Should his past define him? We all know what kind of a man he was turning out to be. Not unlike yourself, I don’t think. But he turned his life around. He became a far better person for it. I’m sure there are those who still judge him, but let them do so. Those of us with a more merciful head on our shoulders can see past what’s been, and see the person he’s become,” the duke replied.

Perhaps if his father had been angry with him in the past, Ernest might have felt a stronger sense of forgiveness. But as it stood, he had never felt himself truly punished for the mistakes he had made, and in his own mind, he was punishing himself now.

“Then I shouldn’t hold it against myself? But what of others? What of…the fairer sex?” Ernest asked.

He was thinking about Alicia, and the horror she would surely feel if she discovered the truth about his past. As for Caroline…

“It shouldn’t concern you, Ernest. Didn’t your mother see past my faults?” the duke said.

“It’s hardly a fault, Father,” Ernest replied, but his father shook his head.

“Perhaps not. But my point is there’s always going to be something you might think a woman would find off-putting. But it’s not always the case, I assure you. We fall in love with the person before us, not a version of themselves in the future, or a former outline. What you were, what you’ll be – they don’t matter as much as who you are, Ernest,” the duke replied, and it was with these thoughts Ernest went to bed that night, mulling over what had been, and reminding himself he was more than his past, even as his future seemed uncertain.