Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

" I haven't been a good sister," Cressida murmured.

They had been sitting together in bed for about an hour. Matthew had thought he might fall asleep holding her like this, but it hadn't happened, and he was no longer confident that it would. It was possible he was going to be up all night, preoccupied by how strange and wonderful it was to hold his wife in his arms.

Her words took him out of his thoughts, though. "What do you mean, you haven't been a good sister?" he asked her. "Have you forgotten the fact that you rode all the way to this inn to save her from a marriage she didn't belong in? You may even have saved her life, for all you know. That could have ended horribly, and because you were there for her, she's safe."

"I know that," Cressida said. "But it shouldn't have been necessary. I think if I were truly a good sister, I would never have left home in the first place."

"You married to protect her as well. It seems to me that everything you do is to protect your sister. So how can you suggest that you aren't a good sister? I think you're a wonderful one."

"I should have found another way." Cressida was shaking slightly, and Matthew wrapped his free arm around her as well in an attempt to keep her warm. "I should have done something other than get married to protect her."

"Do you regret our marriage?"

"I don't regret it for my own sake."

"Then why are you saying all this?"

"I've always had to choose between my happiness and hers," Cressida said, tears beginning to run down her cheeks. "And that's a terrible thing to say. I shouldn't have said it. It isn't Victoria who makes me make those choices. I know she wants nothing more than to see me happy."

"Of course that's what she wants," Matthew agreed. "She cares about you. Anyone can see it. Anyone who knows the two of you knows just how much you care for one another, and how much each of you longs to see the other one be happy. I know you would do anything for her, and that she would do the same for you."

"Is it wrong that I'm tired of it?" Cressida whispered. "I love my sister. I would do anything for her. But why does it always have to be me? It's been me taking care of her since we were children. I just wish there was someone else. My father. Or I wish that my mother was still here. Something . Because you're right—I should be able to have a life of my own, and I want a life of my own. I want to think about what makes me happy without worrying that I'm detracting from someone else's happiness. I want to live my life. I should be able to do that, shouldn't I?"

He stroked her hair. "You should be able to do that," he agreed. "You can do that. It's all right to let go of what you've seen as your responsibilities up until now. It's all right to allow yourself to move forward."

"It doesn't feel all right. No one takes care of her when I'm not around."

"She's old enough to care for herself, Cressida. That's what she's telling you tonight with her choice to be on her own. She's letting you know loud and clear that it's all right for you to come in here, to sit with your husband and feel sad about the events of this evening. It's all right for you to think about your feelings right now—for once, you don't have to put someone else's first. What are you feeling?"

"Everything. Anger. Fear. Pain. Guilt."

He nodded. "That's to be expected, I think. Just remember that no one did anything wrong. Not Victoria, and not you. The only guilty party here is that Jonathan, and none of us will ever have to see him again. That has been taken care of."

"I hope you're right about that."

"I am right. I have the utmost confidence in that fact. He will not be back to trouble our lives any further."

"And you think I should trust, now, that Victoria is capable of managing herself?"

"I suspect tonight went a long way toward waking her up to the importance of taking appropriate cautions, " Matthew said. "I think we'll see a different, much more careful Victoria from now on. So I think you shouldn't worry so much about being there for her every day and in every respect. Go to her when she asks you to, of course, but outside of that, try to trust her."

"What if something happens?"

"You've been like a mother to her all your life, Cressida. It's time for the two of you to be sisters. It's time for you to stop protecting her and become her friend. Her equal. Don't you want to be that?"

"Of course I do," Cressida said. "It's just that I'm afraid. I can't help it. Fear is my weakness, particularly when it comes to my sister. The older I get, the more aware I am of the dangers of the world, and the more I know for sure that something will happen to harm her if I ever let my guard down."

"Nothing is going to happen to her, Cressida," Matthew said.

"How can you say such a thing after what happened just tonight? Surely you can't believe it, can you?"

"I do believe it," he said. "Remember that your sister learned from the best. She learned from you. She may have found herself in harm's way tonight, but she is clever and resourceful just as you are. She knows how to manage herself. Try to trust her, the way you trust yourself. You had to become an adult at the tender age of twelve, and so surely she can manage to do it now."

"I believe she can," Cressida said. "But then I think to myself—am I giving myself permission to believe that because it's what I want? Because it would be easier to go off and live my own life? Maybe that's what it is. Maybe I'm talking myself into thinking it's all right to stop caring for her—and that's what makes me a failure as a sister."

"She's old enough to marry," Matthew said. "Before much longer, she will have done so. It's time for you to let her go—let your responsibility for her go—and move into the next phase of what your lives together will be. And it's time for you to take care of yourself. You deserve that, Cressida. It may be a particular weakness of yours that you've never been able to let go of your worry about her, but it's time to try. I'll help you along the way. We'll figure it out, and everything will be all right."

"It's easy for you to say," Cressida sighed and closed her eyes.

"Why do you think it's easy for me to say?"

"Because you don't have any weaknesses," she said. "You're good at everything you do. You're always successful. I think that's why things like mess and loss of control are too much for you to bear. You're used to everything being perfect because it always has been."

"That's not why you don't see me have any weaknesses," Matthew said. "You speak as if it all just came natural to me. As if my life were charmed in some way, and everything had always been flawless. That's not the truth. I have my struggles, just like everyone else. I don't show weakness because I can't afford to show it. Because I have always had to be the one who is strong in my family. I learned at a young age how to keep my secrets, and I have always kept them."

He wondered then if he had said too much, if she would intuit that he had secrets he was keeping even now.

And she did look up at him with a wondering sort of expression on her face, as though sure there was something she wasn't being told. He thought she might ask. If she did, he didn't know what he would do. He felt closer to her than ever before, lying here holding her like this, but that didn't mean he was ready to tell her everything about himself. As he'd just finished explaining, things like weakness and vulnerability were indulgences he simply could not afford to permit himself.

"What secrets have you kept?" Cressida asked him.

He smiled down at her, but he was sure the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Secrets," he said. "Would they be secrets if I told you what they were?"

"Suppose not." He had thought she might argue, but she relaxed and didn't pry. Maybe she had learned that he didn't respond well to questioning. Then again, it might just be that she was so exhausted from the day they'd had that she had no room left for curiosity.

I rather wish she had asked me.

Matthew didn't know where that thought had come from. It was certainly an unexpected one.

But was it the truth?

For the first time in his life, he thought it might feel good to be vulnerable with someone. Maybe it would be pleasant to tell her some of the things he had kept hidden for so long. He could start small. He could tell her the way it had felt when he'd discovered she had moved the furniture in the house, how it had scratched at the back of his mind like a parasite until he thought he couldn't bear it. How he knew he had been unkind and unreasonable about that situation, and yet even as it was happening, he hadn't been able to stop himself. The only thing that had mattered had been getting his mind to quiet down.

He looked down at her and saw that her eyes were drifting closed. "Are you going to sleep?"

"Mmm."

"Very well," he told her. "Sleep well, and I—I'll be right here with you."

That was for the best, he decided with some relief. He'd been close to opening up to her in a way he never had with anyone before in his life, and that was deeply terrifying. There were things he wasn't ready to discuss with anyone, and he didn't think he ever would be. If he could be swayed into letting those things go by the fact that he was holding her in his arms, she was a danger to him.

"Are you sleeping?" he murmured into her hair, wondering if she would stir.

She shifted against him a little at the sound of his voice, settling into a more comfortable position, but her eyes didn't open and she didn't give any sign of being awake.

Matthew slid down against the pillows so that he was lying flat and pulled her close so her head was resting on his shoulder. He let out a long sigh—this felt wonderful.

Maybe this night would last forever.

What a silly fantasy—and yet, he wished it could. He wished he could lie here holding her forever and forget about everything else in the world. It was wonderful to see her looking so at peace. It made him feel more at peace himself.

He felt his eyes begin to close, and his last thought before the world slipped away was that there was no reason every night couldn't be like this. After all, she was his wife. They lived together in the same home. And Matthew was fairly certain by now that she had feelings for him—feelings that, if he was honest with himself, he was beginning to return.

Why can't I bring myself to let her know?