Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

I t took a moment, once Diana had sat up, to remember everything that had happened just yesterday. Was it only yesterday?

Yesterday that everything had seemed so perfect and that they had seemed to be on a path to such a beautiful life together?

Matthew cared for her, wanted to make her happy. And they had just purchased the most perfect house, and then…

But it would be all right.

He had surely returned home last night after she had gone to bed. She would be able to see him this morning and put everything to rights.

With that assurance, she rang for Margaret, taking extra care in her preparations and then rushing downstairs for breakfast.

But Matthew was not there. And she was informed that he had not returned the night before and they did not know when he would return.

Furthermore, no one seemed to know where he actually was, and she worried that something may have happened to him. At least, until she received a visitor.

"Your Grace." The man bowed low as he entered the room, and it took her a moment to remember just who he was. Mathew's uncle. The one she had met only once before; at the one party they had thrown here. The one who had seemed quite angry at the sight of her.

But there was none of that in the way he looked at her now.

"My Lord." She bobbed a slight curtsey, remembering that Matthew held his uncle in very high esteem, though he had seemed quite cold to her when they first met.

"How do you fare, Your Grace?" he asked.

Diana was startled by the question, and even more by the kindness in his expression and his voice when he asked it.

"I am well, My Lord," she replied politely.

"You need not stand on ceremony with me," he replied. "Matthew has been at my house since last night, and I know well what has happened between you."

His voice was still sad, gentle, but all she heard was that Matthew was at his house. Which meant that Matthew was safe.

"He is at your home? He is well, then? Surely, he intends to return home soon."

She perched nearly at the edge of her chair, anxiously glancing behind the Marquess as though Mathew might arrive at any moment.

"I am afraid, Your Grace, that he will not be returning until he can be assured that you have left."

"He… What?" She stared at the man before her. This stranger that she had never truly been introduced to, but who was now standing before her, bringing news that she could not understand.

"May I?" He gestured toward the chair across from her, and years of etiquette training made her nod and respond politely.

"My apologies, My Lord. Please, be seated. Shall I send for something for you to drink?" But the words were automatic, when all she really wanted was for him to get to the point of the matter.

"I require nothing, Your Grace," he replied and thankfully for her nerves, continued immediately on their conversation. "Mathew does not wish to see you, my dear," he continued.

"But… he must. We must talk about this. The fight that we had… it is not the end of things. It does not need to be the end of things," she replied.

"I am afraid that Matthew believes that it is. And he does not wish to see you again so that he wouldn't be reminded of it."

"It will only take a few minutes. I am certain that I can change his mind. That I can make him see," she insisted, but his uncle continued to give her that sad, gentle look and shook his head.

"He refuses to see reason. I have tried to talk some sense into him. As have his cousins. But he will not listen to any of us."

The thought that his beloved uncle and even his cousins, who he clearly adored, could not make him speak to her or even stand in the same room as her… it was too much, and she felt her resolve shattering.

"We can figure this out. I am sure that we can. I only need time, that is all. I will come to terms with it all. I will. To be a mother… I can do it, and if it is so important to him, then I will," she insisted, though she was barely holding back her tears now.

"I am sorry, my dear," the man repeated with a gentle shake of his head.

"This cannot be the end."

She stubbornly clung to that, but with every word from his uncle, it seemed that perhaps this was the end.

"My dear, what you are offering to do, to become a mother against your better judgment, is admirable. And I greatly wish for a positive resolution for you and my nephew. However, it is a great sacrifice that you are willing to make. To become a mother… to birth a child… I witnessed my own wife go through the pain of childbirth twice. I could hear her pain through the house as she brought them into this world, and I admired her greatly for the suffering she endured. But she chose to be a mother. She wished to be a mother. For someone who does not wish it… the very idea…"

"But I can do it. I know that I can. I need only a little time to talk to him and resolve it in my mind. Much like he has with the parties," she insisted.

"Dear, having children is a great deal of pain. A great deal of trouble. It is something that no woman should be forced to endure if she does not wish it. And it is clear from what Matthew has told us that you do not wish it."

"But I could… I could do it. I would do it. For him." She could do it, couldn't she? She tried to resolve the idea in her mind, to consider the idea of having her own children … with Mathew … Yes. Yes, she could do this. She could do this for him if it was so important. If it was the way that she could keep him.

The Marquess again shook his head. "It is not only the pain of childbirth that you must contend with, child. It is also the hardship of raising children. Of becoming a mother before anything else. Of losing yourself in the process of being everything for them."

It was the one thing that Diana feared above everything else about having children. It was not the pain of it. Of that she was well aware. Had she not been near when her own mother brought her sisters into this world? She had been a child herself then, but even still she had known there was pain.

No, it was the fear of losing who she was. And everything that mattered to her. That was what she truly feared.

But then… she also feared losing Matthew. And for once, she realized, the fear of losing herself to motherhood paled in comparison to her fear of losing something else, her husband.

"I can't lose him. Not like this," she insisted yet again, her voice cracking.

"My dear, you've already lost him. He's already decided that he's done, and he does not want to be reminded of this farce of a marriage anymore. He does not wish to discuss this again, or even to see you again. He would divorce you if it would not invite cruel gossip upon him, and after everything he has been through, he does not deserve that."

"My dear, you've lost him already. He has already decided that he is finished and that he does not wish to see you again. He does not wish to discuss it. He does not wish to even think on it again. My nephew is quite stubborn when he chooses to be, as you well know. And on this …" he sighed, "there seems to be nothing further that can be done to change his mind."

"Please, there must be something you can do. I know that he trusts you and he thinks very highly of you. You're the most important person to him in the world. If you tell him to just give me a chance to put things right—" She was practically begging now but she did not care. She would do anything to make things better.

"I have tried, dear. John has tried. Isabelle has tried. He does not wish to listen to us. He insisted that I come here and tell you to leave. Your maid is to go with you, but he will have someone pack up all of your things, and have it returned to you."

"I can pack everything up myself," she replied with a forlorn expression.

"There are things that need to be taken care of today, and Matthew does not want you to be here when he returns. He would prefer that you leave immediately and has said that you may use his carriage. But he would like you to go now."

"I-I can't believe he would send me away without even seeing me again… I can't—this can't be it," she repeated.

The Marquess simply looked at her with that sad expression again. "I'm sorry, my dear," he said, but then he turned around and walked out of the room.

Diana was left alone with Margaret.

"Your Grace…"

Margaret didn't seem to know what to say, and Diana herself was even less sure.

How had everything fallen apart so quickly? How could it be that she had been so happy only a short time ago? And now… now her husband was sending her away.

"It is best if we pack a few things to take with us. I am sure his uncle will have the carriage brought around for us any moment, and we will need to be ready to go," Diana said quietly.

Margaret followed her up the stairs, and the two set about packing the most important of their things. And then Diana took a few extra moments to write a letter for Matthew.

Whatever he might think of her, whatever he might want from her, she could not leave without telling him goodbye. Or at least trying too.

It occurred to her that he may not even read the letter. He might simply throw it away or burn it. But she was going to do what she could to let him know how she felt, regardless of what it might mean to him.

She summoned the housekeeper while Margaret carried their bags downstairs and then loaded them into the carriage.

Miss Jenkins feigned ignorance of what was happening. However, Diana was certain that she knew more about what had happened than she let on, but for now…

"This is for Matthew. When he returns."

"Of course, Your Grace," the housekeeper replied, taking the piece of paper and tucking it into her skirts.

"Thank you."

"Be well, Your Grace," the woman told her, and though Diana was certain she had been spying on her ever since she had arrived, there was a gentleness to her address now.

"And you, Miss. Jenkins," she replied and the woman curtsied once more and then quickly bustled away, as though she did not want to be present for anymore.

With that, Diana took one last look at her room and then quickly went down the stairs and out to the waiting carriage.

Matthew's uncle was standing at the entrance, watching her, giving her another of those sad looks and squeezing her hands gently before she squared her shoulders, lifted her head, and strode to the carriage.

It wasn't until she and Margaret were well on their way to her parent's home that she allowed herself to truly process what was happening. She was being sent away by the man she loved, the man that she truly wished she could spend the rest of her life with.

Margaret remained silent, holding her gently as she cried and mourned her loss. The loss of her husband. The loss of the home that they had chosen together. The loss of the children that they would never have. Because only now did Diana realize that she did want to have his children.

But it was too little, too late. Because Matthew had turned his back on her for good.