24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

I ris stood before the imposing oak door of her father's study, her heart pounding. The weight of Maude's confession and the mysterious letters pressed upon her like a physical burden. She smoothed her skirts, took a deep breath, and rapped her knuckles against the polished wood.

"Enter," came her father's deep voice from within.

Iris pushed open the door, her eyes immediately falling upon her parents. Lord Rosier sat behind his massive mahogany desk, a quill poised in his hand over a stack of papers. Lady Rosier perched on a nearby settee, her embroidery forgotten in her lap as she regarded her daughter with a look of curiosity mixed with concern.

"Iris, my dear," Lord Rosier said, setting aside his quill. "What brings you to my study at this hour?"

Iris closed the door behind her, her fingers lingering on the cool brass handle as she gathered her courage. "I wish to speak with you both," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "About Lord Thornbrook. "

The change in the room was instant and palpable. Lady Rosier's back stiffened, her fingers clutching at her embroidery hoop. Lord Rosier's brow furrowed, and an unease flickered across his features.

"What about Lord Thornbrook?" Lady Rosier asked, her tone carefully neutral.

Iris moved further into the room, her gaze shifting between her parents. "I want to know the truth about my relationship with him before my accident."

Lady Rosier's lips thinned. "We've discussed this, Iris. Lord Thornbrook was merely an acquaintance. There's no need to dwell on the past."

"An acquaintance?" Iris echoed, her voice rising slightly. "Is that why I've been receiving letters that speak of a far deeper connection?"

Lord Rosier's head snapped up, his eyes widening. "Letters? What letters?"

Iris reached into her pocket, withdrawing a folded piece of paper. "Letters like this one, written in my own hand to ‘Lord Thornbrook.' Letters that speak of shared music, of stolen moments, of..." she faltered, her cheeks flushing, "of love."

Lady Rosier rose swiftly, her embroidery falling forgotten to the floor. "Where did you get those?" she demanded, reaching for the letter.

Iris stepped back, clutching the paper to her chest. "That's not important. What matters is what they reveal. You've been lying to me, haven't you? About everything?"

Lord Rosier sighed heavily, rising from his chair to stand beside his wife. "Iris, you must understand. We only wanted to protect you."

"Protect me?" Iris retorted, her voice thick with disbelief. "By lying to me? By manipulating my memories?"

Lady Rosier's face hardened. "Lord Thornbrook is not a suitable match for you, Iris. His reputation, his past scandals... we couldn't allow you to throw away your future on such a man."

Iris felt her anger rising, hot and fierce. "So you decided for me? You took advantage of my memory loss to... to what? Reshape my life as you saw fit?"

"We did what was necessary," Lady Rosier insisted. "Lord Edgar is a far more appropriate suitor. He can offer you stability, respectability..."

"But not love," Iris interrupted, her voice cracking. "Not passion. Not the connection I clearly shared with Horatio."

Lord Rosier stepped forward, his expression torn between concern for his daughter and loyalty to his wife. "Iris, my dear, you must try to see reason. Your mother and I only want what's best for you."

Iris shook her head, tears pricking at her eyes. "How can I trust that? How can I trust anything you say when you've been lying to me all this time?"

The room fell silent, the weight of unspoken truths hanging heavy in the air. Iris looked between her parents, seeing the conflict in her father's eyes and the stubborn set of her mother's jaw.

"Tell me everything," Iris demanded, her voice low and intense. "I deserve to know the truth about my own life."

Lord Rosier sank back into his chair, suddenly looking older and wearier than Iris had ever seen him. "Perhaps," he said slowly, "we have made a grave error in judgment."

Lady Rosier whirled on him. "Charles! You cannot seriously be considering..."

He held up a hand, silencing her protests. "Enough, Camilla. Our daughter is right. She deserves the truth. "

And so, as the clock on the mantel ticked away the minutes, Lord Rosier began to speak. He told Iris of her first meeting with Lord Thornbrook and their immediate connection. He spoke of their music lessons and passionate debates about music that had set tongues wagging throughout the county.

As her father spoke, flashes of memory began to surface in Iris's mind. The touch of Horatio's hand on hers as they played a duet. The intensity in his stormy eyes as they discussed a particularly moving piece of music. The flutter in her chest when he presented her with a single red rose was a callback to their first conversation about music.

"Your mother and I," Lord Rosier continued, his voice heavy with regret, "were concerned. Lord Thornbrook's reputation... there had been scandals in London—a duel, whispers of an affair with a married woman. We feared for your reputation, for your future."

Lady Rosier, who had remained uncharacteristically silent, spoke up. "We tried to discourage the attachment, but you were... headstrong. Determined to see only the good in him."

Iris listened, her heart aching with each revelation. She remembered now the arguments with her mother, the disapproving looks, the increasing restrictions on her movements.

"And then," Lord Rosier said, his voice dropping, "there was the accident."

Iris's breath caught. "The riding accident? The one that caused my memory loss?"

Her father nodded gravely. "You had quarreled with your mother. You were upset and not thinking clearly. You took your horse out in a storm..."

The memory hit Iris like a physical blow: rain lashing her face, the thunder of hooves, a flash of lightning that startled her mount, the sickening sensation of falling, and then... nothing.

"When you woke," Lady Rosier said softly, "and couldn't remember... we thought it was a chance. A chance to protect you from making a terrible mistake."

Iris staggered back, gripping the back of a nearby chair for support. "So you lied. You erased Horatio from my life, pushed me towards Lord Edgar..."

"We thought it was for the best," Lord Rosier said, his voice pleading. "You must believe we only wanted to ensure your happiness and security."

Iris looked at her parents, seeing them honestly for the first time. She saw fear in her mother's eyes and guilt weighing on her father's shoulders. She felt a confusing mix of anger, betrayal, and a grudging understanding of their misguided intentions.

"I need... I need time to think," Iris said, her voice barely above a whisper. "To process all of this."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and fled the study. Her feet carried her through the familiar halls of Rosewood Manor, up the stairs, and into the safety of her bedchamber. She closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she fought to catch her breath.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, shadows dancing on the walls. Iris moved to her window, drawn by some inexplicable force. A haunting melody drifted on the night air as she gazed into the moonlit garden.

Her heart leaped in her chest, recognizing the tune even before her mind could place it. It was the piece Horatio had played during their last lesson before her accident when she had started learning to play the violin.

Iris's eyes searched the darkness, finally landing on a figure standing beneath the old oak tree. Horatio, his violin tucked under his chin, played with such passion and longing that it made her breath catch in her throat.

As she watched, transfixed, the floodgates of her memory burst open. Every moment, every touch, every whispered word of love came rushing back with overwhelming clarity. Tears streamed down her face as the total weight of her recovered memories washed over her.

Without conscious thought, Iris found herself moving. She raced down the stairs, through the darkened house, and into the cool night air. Her feet carried her across the dew-damp grass, her heart pounding in time with the music that still filled the air.

As she approached, Horatio lowered his violin, their eyes meeting in profound recognition. The music faded away, leaving only the sound of their ragged breathing and the gentle rustle of leaves in the night breeze.

"Horatio," Iris whispered, her voice thick with emotion. All the love and longing she now remembered poured into that single word.

Horatio took a step towards her, his hand outstretched. "Iris," he breathed, his dark eyes searching her face. "Do you...?"

"I remember!" She said, moving closer. "I remember everything!"

Just as their fingers were about to touch, a light flickered on in the house behind them. The spell broken, they both turned to look, suddenly aware of the danger of their situation.

"I should go," Horatio said reluctantly, his eyes never leaving Iris's face.

Iris nodded, though every fiber of her being rebelled against the idea of parting. "Yes, but... Horatio, I..."

He smiled a soft, tender expression that made her heart ache. "I know," he said simply. "We'll find a way, Iris. I promise you."

As Iris and Horatio came closer, the crunch of gravel underfoot shattered the moment. Horatio stepped back, melting into the shadows of the garden. Iris felt her heart racing as she tried to compose herself, acutely aware of her disheveled appearance and the tears still drying on her cheeks.

Iris turned, startled, to see Lord Edgar approaching, his face a mask of confusion and growing suspicion.

"Iris?" Edgar called out. "What's going on here? I heard music…"

"Lord Edgar," she managed, her voice wavering slightly. "I... I couldn't sleep. I thought I heard music and came to investigate."

Edgar's brow furrowed as he drew closer. "But at this hour?" His gaze swept the garden, lingering on the spot where Horatio had stood moments before. "Was there someone else out here with you? And wasn't that… Horatio's music?"

Iris opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. She could see the doubt in Edgar's eyes, the growing realization that something significant had transpired, "I… I can explain."

Edgar held up a hand, silencing her. His eyes took in Iris's flushed face. "I think I understand more than you realize," he said quietly.

"I don't know what to say."

"Perhaps," Edgar said slowly, "we should return to the house. It's not proper for you to be out here alone at night."

As Edgar escorted her back towards Rosewood Manor, Iris cast one last glance over her shoulder. In the dim moonlight, she caught a glimpse of Horatio's tall figure following at a discreet distance.