Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

" E ster, dear, after everything your mother has told me, I must concur. I cannot in good conscience give my blessing to your union with this man," Percival Fairchild declared, his voice gravelly yet unwavering.

He was propped up in his bed, wrapped in a bed jacket and with a nightcap perched on his thinning hair. The curtains were tightly drawn against the sunlight and in the half-light, Ester's father looked deathly pale. Deep lines had sunken into his face. His cheeks were withdrawn and there were shadows under his eyes. His words were punctuated by wracking coughs. Ester sat on the edge of his bed, clutching her father's hands in her own. Her mother stood nearby, face sorrowful but resolved.

"Father, you have always trusted my judgment. I swear to you that Julian is a good man. A man I… love. A man of nobility and honor—"

"And a man with a shadowy past that draws the interest of men like the one whose lifeless body lies in my library awaiting the attention of the physician," Percival finished gravely, his words slicing through the air like a blade.

"That is not his fault—"

"I did not say it was, child. Nor do I hold him accountable for the sins of his past. But I must consider his name and reputation where you are concerned. I cannot permit you to be dragged into scandal or ruin by a man who courts trouble like a moth to a flame," he raised his hand as Ester opened her mouth to speak, "...do not interrupt me, child. Is this the influence of the Duke? That you, who have always been an obedient girl, now defy me?"

His words struck her like a lash.

Ester closed her mouth, shutting her eyes against helpless tears. She wanted to scream her frustrations at the world—a world that seemed to conspire against her, against her wants, against her every hope for happiness. At that very moment, Julian was riding back to Theydon Mount, followed by Harper. Every fiber of her being longed to follow, to ride along the road in pursuit of him. Yet here she was, duty-bound, tethered to her father's bedside.

"I am a man of reason, dearest," Percival began again, softer now but no less severe. "A man of faith and rational thought. I do not believe in curses or dark forces. But that changes nothing," he muttered now, "for others do. This man, Napier, clearly did, or else why his interest in the Duke? Such a man as the Duke of Windermere will attract such darkness to him. It does not matter what is true or what is myth. I will not allow my daughter or my name to become entwined in such a sordid, ungodly mess."

Ester buried her face in her hands, crying openly, her tears spilling unbidden. She felt an arm go about her shoulders and heard Helen's voice, also tearful. With anger born from harrowing grief, Ester shrugged away her sister's attempt at comfort. She stood, backing away from her family. She saw the grief on Helen's face, the stony determination on her mother's and the weakness of her father.

Duty suddenly weighed heavy on her. She wanted to fly, to be by Julian's side. But her duty was too great a burden. It pressed upon her like a yoke, rooting her to the floor, here at Loughton Grange. She backed away until she stood against the door. Her fingers closed around the brass doorknob behind her. She knew that all she had to do was turn it and open the door. One simple twist, one turn, and the door would swing open. She could run—run through the dimly lit halls, out to the stables, saddle a horse, and ride. Ride to Julian, to freedom, to the life she yearned for.

But the weight of her family held her down. Her hands fell limply to her sides, her head resting against the door, her eyes squeezing shut in silent torment.

"I wonder, Percy," her mother's voice pierced through the silence, steady and practical as ever, "now that the threat of scandal has passed, do you not think it time we return to Kendrick?"

"Kendrick? Home?" Helen clapped, excitedly. "Oh, Essie, wouldn't that be wonderful?"

Percival, pale and weak in his bed, nodded slowly. "Yes, dear, a fine idea. A fresh start after this... most unfortunate ordeal. Some distance from..." His voice trailed off, but the meaning was clear. Distance from the darkness that hovered over Theydon Mere, from the very man who claimed her heart.

Ester stood motionless, eyes still closed. She saw Julian striding towards her through the stream, cutting through the water with his boots, throwing up splashes to either side. She saw his face, enigmatic to all but her. Its hardlines hiding the softness within. His lips, full and warm. His eyes that looked through her, saw to her very soul. Eyes that stripped her bare with each glance. Would she ever see those eyes again?

"Ester?" Janet asked.

Ester finally opened her eyes. She pushed her sorrow down, drove it from her face, denied herself tears. Face composed, she looked to her family. Her burden. Her duty.

"Yes, mother."