Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

T he grand estate of Scriven was a sanctuary of peace and refinement. Its stately gardens and elegant halls spoke of nothing but elegance. No one would envision anything less for the Dowager Duchess of Northwick, let alone herself.

Modesty sat in the drawing room, her needlework in hand as she hummed softly to herself. The sun streamed through the tall windows, casting a warm, golden light over the room.

It was then she heard it, the familiar sound of footsteps – light against the floor. They were so light you could miss it. But not her. She knew those footsteps anywhere, even in her sleep. But they were footsteps she had not expected to hear for some time. She looked up, her heart quickening. Duncan stood in the doorway, his face drawn and pale. His eyes were shadowed and sunken.

"Duncan, my son," Modesty exclaimed, rising to her feet, her needlework forgotten. "What brings you here?"

"It is nothing, Mother." But it didn't look like nothing. In fact, it looked like everything had gone wrong with the world.

"Give me some credit, Duncan. We may not be as close as I'd like us to be, but I am no fool. ‘Tis not nothing. Something is bothering you."

"It is of no consequence. Do not worry over it." But she was already worried. His voice was grave and his eyes seemed to further sink into their sockets.

"Please do not tell me that, Duncan. I can see it on your face. Something is troubling you. Of what use am I as a mother if I cannot try to alleviate my son's pain? Your pain is my pain, Duncan. Please, do not shut me out. I beg you."

But it was as if she had been pouring water on a stone. Duncan wasn't budging. His impassive face was set in stubborn lines. She should have known better than to try to pry information from her son. Not that she didn't know. But she could try. There was no harm in trying now, was there?

"Duncan, please. I am your mother, and I can't bear to see you this way without being able to do anything. We can solve this together. Your pain is my pain. Why do you not see that? Please, talk to me."

Duncan hesitated, his tall frame nearly sucking up all the space from the drawing room. Modesty didn't miss the slight stoop in his shoulders. Duncan never stooped for he was a man of prideful height. Something had gone terribly wrong.

"Do not fret, Mother. As I said, it is of no consequence. I only needed some time away, is all."

"Time away, you say? Time away from what? Is anything the matter with Northwick Estate?

"No. The estate is in good condition. I only needed to get away."

From what? Oh dear. This was worse than she thought. Her heart ached at the sight of her son in such distress. She crossed the room to him, her hands gentle as they clasped his. Duncan stared at their conjoined hands, long and hard. Deflated, Modesty unclasped hers, feeling uncomfortable. She had never been able to hold her son, just like any other mother, in years. And it killed her.

"Come, sit with me," she urged, leading him to a nearby settee. "Tell me what troubles you."

Duncan shook his head, looking away, his jaw set in a hard line. "I cannot, Mother. Not now."

She studied him, her keen eyes noticing the tremor in his hands, the tightness around his eyes. "Is it something to do with Lucy?" she asked softly, careful to keep her voice neutral.

Duncan's eyes moved to her in a flash, the silence suffocating, before resting on his trembling hands. "Yes," he admitted, offering no further details.

Oh dear. She knew it. She just knew. That gold-digging chit was up to no good. She had never liked her. There was just something off about her. She was conniving. Nothing about her was real. She saw right through her and her leeching family. She would have to do something about them all.

"Whatever it is, my dear, you do not have to face it alone."

Duncan's eyes met hers, a storm of emotions swirling within them. "I need time, Mother," he said finally, "time to think."

Modesty nodded. "Of course, Duncan. Take all the time you need. You are always welcome here."

She watched him, her heart heavy with a mother's worry. She had always known Duncan to be strong, and resolute, but this...this was different. There was a fragility to him now, a vulnerability that she had rarely seen, and it worried her.

As the silence stretched between them, Modesty's mind raced. She hadn't known what to make of their marriage. She had hoped it would be manageable. But now, seeing the pain etched on Duncan's face, she feared something had gone terribly wrong.

"Duncan," she began gently, "whatever has happened, know that you have my support. I am here for you, always."

He looked away, a shadow crossing his features. "I fear I have failed," he confessed, his voice breaking. "I have failed."

Modesty's heart ached for him. "You are facing a difficult situation, and it is natural to feel overwhelmed." Duncan said nothing, only shutting his eyes tight.

She would never forgive Lucy nor her family for what they had done. Whatever the issue, she would help him find a way through it. For now, all she could do was offer her unwavering support and love.

She had a strong feeling about what had happened. She knew what had gone wrong. It was exactly what she had been trying to avoid. She would do whatever it took to help her son find his way back to peace. She knew in her heart that the solution might not involve Lucy. But Duncan came first.

The days stretched endlessly, passing with an agonizing slowness for Lucy. She wandered through the empty halls, each room a painful reminder of his absence. Each passing hour without Duncan's return gnawed at her soul. She could not bear the loneliness, yet she stayed, hoping he would come back.

One afternoon, as she sat by the window, staring out at the empty drive, a carriage pulled up. Her heart leapt with hope, but it quickly faded as she recognized the crest. Lucy stood, her heart pounding. She could already sense the impending confrontation. The doors flew open, and Modesty swept in, her posture rigid and expression stern.

"Good day to you, Lucy," she said, her tone icy. A chill immediately descended on the room. Her presence was commanding and cold.

"Lady Modesty," Lucy replied, curtsying. She kept her voice steady, but Modesty's piercing gaze unsettled her.

Modesty wasted no time. "I have come to speak plainly," she began, her voice sharp. "This marriage should never have occurred. I told Duncan so, but he was too blinded by honor. It was a mistake from the beginning."

Lucy flinched at the harshness in her voice. "We are married now. That cannot be undone."

Modesty's eyes narrowed. "Cannot it? Duncan has been gone for days. You are here alone, pining away. This is not how a duchess should live."

Lucy lowered her gaze. "We have had our challenges, but I believe we can work through them."

"Work through them?" Modesty scoffed. "You are from a family of no standing, no reputation. You bring nothing but trouble and distress to my son."

Lucy swallowed hard, her voice trembling. "I did not ask for this, Lady Modesty. I have done my best to be a good wife."

"A good wife?" Modesty scoffed again. "A good wife would have understood her husband's needs. She would have insisted he not marry beneath his station."

The words stung. "I love Duncan and I am doing my best to support him."

Modesty's laugh was cold and mirthless. "Love? You speak of love as if it were a simple thing. Love is not enough, Lucy. Status, propriety, duty—are what holds a marriage together. You know nothing of the responsibilities and duties that come with being a duchess. Your frivolous ways are not suitable for this role."

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she fought them back. "I am learning. I am trying."

"Certainly not hard enough." Modesty stepped closer, her eyes blazing. "You will never be worthy of him. Your presence in his life is a burden. He needs someone of equal standing, someone who can truly support him."

Lucy kept her head bowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Duncan chose me. Despite your disapproval, we are married."

Modesty's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You are a fool if you think this marriage will survive. I came here to tell you that you should leave. Return to your family. This charade has gone on long enough."

Lucy met her gaze, her eyes flashing. "I will not abandon him. No matter what you say."

"Duncan will see sense soon enough. He will realize that you are not what he needs."

Tears of frustration welled in Lucy's eyes, but she stood her ground. "Be that as it may. If that is what he decides, then so be it. But until then, I will remain here, waiting for him."

"Very well. Stay in this house if you must. But do not think for a moment that you belong here."

"This is my home. Duncan is my husband."

Modesty sighed, a sound filled with exasperation and disdain. "You are determined to be stubborn, I see. Very well then. Duncan, my son, is with me at Scriven estate. He will be there for a long time, most probably after what has happened."

Modesty's eyes arrested Lucy with her piercing gaze. Lucy stilled, a myriad of thoughts running through her head. She knows. She knows! Goodness! And Duncan had been at his mother's all this time? Without bothering to let her know?

"I should never have allowed this sham of a union to happen. I should have known better than to trust my son with you, you lowlife, scheming opportunist. And now, you have hurt my son. I will never forgive you if anything happens to Duncan. Mark my words."

"I–"

"I believe you both need to live apart. It is the best thing for my son and the very least you can do." Lucy breathed harshly, her ears ringing loudly as Modesty took a menacing step closer. "Heed my warning, girl. Duncan is my only child. And I will not see him come to ruin because of you.

"I will stand by Duncan no matter what." On the outside, Lucy squared her shoulders. On the inside, she believed something in her had died a little.

"You may find that a lonely endeavor, my dear. Good day."

With that, Modesty turned and swept out of the room, leaving Lucy standing alone, her heart heavy. The door closed with a decisive click, the sound echoing through the silent house. Lucy sank into a chair. Her limbs were weak, and she had no doubt she would collapse to the floor if she kept standing.

It was that bad. Whatever had happened that fateful day had driven Duncan over the edge. How could things go so wrong in the blink of an eye? No doubt, he wouldn't ever want to set eyes on her again let alone touch her. It seemed her mother-in-law was right. She had no place here again. And with that, she headed to Duncan's chambers and packed her belongings.

She took only what she came with, leaving behind whatever Duncan gave to her. She caught sight of the lavender dress. Dropping all else she was doing, she picked it up, caressing it as memories assaulted her. She could no longer hold the tears back. And they poured from her eyes with a vengeance.

She couldn't bear to leave the dress behind. But she had to. She had to move on with her life. She didn't need reminders of a life she couldn't have. There was no use for her staying here without Duncan. Who was she without him here anyway? Who was a duchess without her duke? Nothing.

And so, she dropped it and finished with her packing. She didn't have a lot. It wasn't like she came with a lot. Perhaps, it was a good thing. She could leave as if she was never here.

She didn't want to cause him any more pain. She would rather die than do that. Perhaps it was true. She had caused him untold misery. Staying at the manor would only worsen it. There was no place for her here anymore.

She could stop all the pretense and go back to her life. Her real life. Her time was up. She took a last look at the place she had come to love, a place that told the story of their love. Duncan's scent still hung strongly in the air.

And with tears blinding her vision, she picked up her trunk and left.