Chapter 38

CHAPTER 38

" W e don't have to do this," Cressida said softly. "Not if you don't want to."

Matthew glanced at her. The two of them had been sitting in the carriage outside the cemetery for about twenty minutes, and he had been trying to muster the courage to get out and lead her into the place.

"It's just that I've never been here with anyone else," he explained. "Not even my father. He told me where she was buried, but he never brought me here. I didn't come until I was an adult, and then I always came on my own."

"I understand," Cressida said. "And truly—if you don't want to do this, if you don't want to be here with me, there's no need. We can go back home. We can return another day, or this can be something that you simply do on your own, that I'm not a part of at all. Either choice would be all right, and I would completely understand."

"I want to be here with you," Matthew said. "You know my biggest secret now, and I want to stop keeping things from you. I don't want one of the most important parts of my life to be something I can't share with my wife."

"I don't want that either," Cressida agreed. "I know this is painful for you, and I want to be a part of it as much as you'll allow me to be."

"Then let's go." Matthew mustered his courage and pushed open the door of the carriage. He stepped out and held up a hand to help Cressida climb out of the carriage after him.

The day was a perfect one for the task of visiting a cemetery. It was cold and rainy and gray, and Matthew felt as if it was impossible to be cheerful on a day like this. That was fitting. He didn't want to be cheerful while he was seeing to this task. In a strange way, it felt good to be sad.

He led Cressida through the graveyard, noticing the way she looked around at the various tombstones. He found himself feeling rather self-conscious, needing to offer some sort of explanation.

"I know this place isn't much," he said. "I believe my father should have had her buried with the rest of the family. But I asked him about it once and he told me that she was a commoner, a servant, and that this was her place." He shook his head. "There was nothing I could do."

"I understand that," Cressida said. "She wasn't noble, but she was still your mother. She should have been included with the rest of your family."

"Unfortunately, there was no way to do that without creating a scandal," Matthew said. "That's what my father always made sure to remind me of. He wanted me to know that she couldn't be revealed to be a part of our family, because if she was, people would have things to say about it, and it would make us all look bad."

"Perhaps he should have thought of that before he had an affair with a maid, if it was such a matter of concern." She glanced at him. "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have said that. I don't mean to be so harsh."

"No, don't apologize," Matthew said. "To tell you the truth, I'm glad that someone is finally being harsh about this. It's time my father was held accountable for what he did, even if he isn't here to take responsibility for it firsthand. I'm happy that someone is able to look at the situation and to say that he was in the wrong."

"I think he was," Cressida said loyally. "I think he should have made a space for your mother, in life and in death. And at the same time, Matthew, I'm very grateful that he has made a space for you—that he has always acknowledged you as his son. I'm glad you had that. Because your sisters are correct in what they said to you—he was under no obligation to do so, and at the very least, he did give you the treatment you deserved. I'm glad you had a father who loved you and regarded you as his own, in spite of everything."

Matthew nodded. They had reached his mother's grave now, and he sank to his knees before the small, humble tombstone.

"Sometimes I'm glad she's here," he confessed, brushing the dirt from its surface. "I think—I didn't know her, of course, so I can't be sure of this. But I think she might not have liked anything gaudy or ostentatious. I like to think of her as a simple woman, someone who would have fit a grave marker like this one. Maybe that's the truth. Maybe she would have been at home here. Maybe my father wasn't simply trying to avoid a scandal. It could be that there was more to his decision, and he was trying to honor what she would have liked."

"Did she have family?" Cressida was looking around at the surrounding headstones. "Are they here?"

"Not that I know of," Matthew said. "I asked that once, and my father said that she was alone in the world. It made me feel so sad that I never questioned him about it again."

Cressida nodded. She reached out and slid her hand into his.

Matthew felt himself go rigid for a moment. It was a strange thing to accept comfort here, beside his mother's grave, a place where he had always been alone. It was strange to know that, for once, he was not alone here.

It was strange—but it was very welcome, too.

Perhaps he would never feel alone here again.

He finished cleaning the dirt from the grave. "I should have brought something," he said. "Flowers."

"Is that what you usually do?"

"No. But I'd like to, I think."

"We'll have to remember for next time." Cressida squeezed his hand. "We can come here as often as you'd like to, Matthew. Every day, if it would make you happy."

"I don't know what to say." He felt a lump in his throat. "I would never have thought that this part of my life would be something that anyone would be able to accept, Cressida. I thought this was something I would always have to keep to myself—to keep hidden even from my sisters."

"I don't want you to hide anything from me," Cressida said. "I certainly don't want you to feel as though you have to, because you don't. Every part of your life, every word of your story, is welcome with me. I want to know all about you, Matthew. I want us to be together in everything we do. I know it wasn't the kind of marriage you envisioned when we said our vows, but if we're able, it's the kind of marriage I would like us to have."

"I've been very lucky," Matthew murmured.

"What do you mean?"

"You've been stronger than I have. You've fought harder than I have for this marriage to be what it is today. I don't know that I deserve all the hard work you've put in, all the times you haven't given up. But I do know that I'll be forever grateful, Cressida. All the times you could have simply accepted my desire to keep you at arm's length, and yet you never did. I owe you such gratitude for that."

"You don't owe me anything," Cressida said. "I never did anything more or less than what I wanted to do, Matthew. I wanted to be close with my husband—no, that isn't quite right. I wanted to be close with you . It wasn't that I wanted a certain kind of marriage. It was that the more I got to know you, the less I could accept the distance between the two of us. And now that we're here, I'm very glad I fought every day for what we have. I would do it again in a heartbeat. I have no regrets."

She squeezed his hand again, and Matthew closed his eyes, feeling more content and at peace than he would have thought possible while kneeling at his mother's grave.

Perhaps she could see them even now. Perhaps she was looking over them. If she was, Matthew was sure that she would be smiling—that she would be happy about the fact that he had found love.

In spite of all his efforts to sabotage himself along the way, he had found himself with a lady who cared enough to fight for him. He would never stop feeling grateful for that fact.

He rose to his feet, pulling Cressida up alongside him. "We ought to go," he said.

"Are you sure? I'm in no rush—we can stay if you want to."

"We've done what we came here to do. And with the weather as foul as it is, I do think it's best that we take our leave," he said. "I wouldn't want you to catch a chill."

"I'm perfectly fine." Still, she allowed herself to be drawn back toward the carriage. "Thank you for bringing me here today, Matthew," she said. "Thank you for including me in this. I'm very happy to have been a part of it, truly, and I'm honored that you would want me here."

"I think my mother would have liked you," Matthew said. "I know that I never knew her, so I can only guess. But I have things in my character that didn't come from my father, and those things must have come from somewhere. Whenever I find something in myself that I don't recognize as him, I have to assume that it's from her. I think she would have liked you every bit as much as I do."

"I'm honored to think so," Cressida said quietly.

They walked in silence for a few moments, Matthew turning an idea over and over in his head, unsure whether it was something he would be able to say out loud.

In the end, though, he found the nerve to do it. "I know we agreed that our marriage would not be a traditional one," he said. "But it's safe to say now that you and I have discovered…feelings for one another, is it not?"

Cressida smiled. "That's safe to say, yes."

"I wonder if you would be open to renegotiating a facet of our arrangement."

"Tell me what you mean."

"We said that we would have no children," he said. "I told you I didn't need an heir."

She looked at him and said nothing.

His heart pounded. He had never felt so apprehensive in all his life. "I only want to do what you want to do," he said. "But if you thought it might suit you—I would like to have a child with you, Cressida. I don't require an heir, if you still don't want one, but if you were interested?—"

"Yes," she said at once.

His spirits soared. "Truly?"

"I've wanted it for a while," she said. "I've thought about it. I've wished for it. I never thought I could ask it of you. But if you're willing—if you're wanting—I would love a child."

The warmth that filled Matthew at her words was like nothing he had ever felt, like nothing he had ever imagined. "I'm so glad to hear you say that," he managed.

They had reached the carriage, and he helped her inside, then climbed up after her. The door was closed, leaving them in the private confinement it afforded them, and he ached to pull her close and kiss her so passionately that they both forgot where they were.

But that would wait. For now, he contended himself with a tender kiss and a soft caress of her cheek. Her arms wound around him and she leaned into him as the carriage began to move, and it occurred to Matthew that he had never been happier in all his life.