Chapter 22

CHAPTER22

“Rachel? Rachel!” a voice called after Rachel as she reached the stables.

Turning away from the horse that had been prepared for her by the stablemaster, Rachel crossed toward Anne, who appeared from a side door in the house.

“Anne, Are you well?” She reached for her sister-in-law with sudden concern.

Anne was pale and unsteady on her feet, her lips a strange purple color. “As well as can be expected.” She tottered on her feet. “Clearly, I drank too much last night.”

“I did that once.” Rachel grimaced. “In my experience, once you’ve done it once, you learn your limit pretty quickly. Here, lean against the wall.” She took Anne’s shoulder and steered her toward the wall so she could rest against it. Anne’s eyes widened, as if stunned Rachel had done such a simple kindness. “You should rest today. The more you rest, the quicker you will feel your normal self again.”

Anne nodded, distracted. “Where are you going?”

“To see my sisters.” Rachel pulled at the collar of her riding habit, stunned at the heat of the day. It had come from nowhere and made her very uncomfortable. “After what you said last night…” She paused, uncertain how to put into words what she was feeling.

Anne looked queasy again and raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

“My advice is to lie in a darkened room for a while,” Rachel suggested. “Drink water in small sips, and nothing else.”

“Thank you.” Anne nodded. “You are trying to take care of me.”

“I know no other way to be.” Rachel shrugged. The thought cut through that there would never be a child to care for now.

Never!

With her heart thudding in her chest, she looked at the horse longingly. She had to get away from here, to talk to someone who could truly understand her. She had to speak with Bridget, and even Emily, who could help in her own excitable way.

I need to be with those I can trust.

“Last night,” Anne said with a heavy gulp, “what I said… I am not sure I was completely in control of my tongue when I said it.”

“I know.” Rachel smiled sadly.

She was never quite sure what to make of Anne, and she knew well enough by now that Anne thought so little of her that she could be capable of trying to drive her and Daniel apart, but last night was something else. There hadn’t been anything malicious in her actions.

Anne raised her fingers to her lips and held her mouth closed, leaning back against the wall.

“The nausea will pass soon enough,” Rachel assured her.

“How long are you going for?” Anne asked, nodding at the horse that awaited Rachel.

“I do not know. I’m hoping my sisters can help me.” Rachel chewed on her bottom lip in thought. “It was time I knew the man I was married to, and now I see, with amazement, that I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.”

With a heavy heart, she thought back to all the intimate moments they had shared, the way he had made love to her, pleasured her, then held her in his arms. She had fooled herself into thinking that all of that meant he loved her too.

If he loved me, he would have told me, and he would not have been as angry last night as he was at my upset.

“I should go.” Rachel motioned toward the horse once again. “Get inside, Anne. Take care of yourself.”

Anne nodded but leaned against the wall for a little longer, clearly nervous about moving in case she was nauseous again.

Rachel stepped back toward the horse and thanked the stable boy as she climbed into the saddle. Nodding at Anne, she offered a weary smile, though it didn’t last. Smiling seemed an almost impossible thing to do.

Slowly, the horse trotted out of the stable, and Rachel stared down the drive, plotting her journey to her father’s house. With her thoughts so distracted, she paused on the drive and looked back at the house.

It was grand, but now, there seemed to be a coldness to it that she had not seen there before. This home would never know children.

Briefly, she thought she saw a figure at one of the windows. It was Daniel. He was staring out at her, but then he moved away and disappeared into the shadows of the house. His retreat made her heart ache again.

We are distanced now.

She blinked and turned away, flicking the reins of the horse, urging the animal on. Down the drive, someone grew in the distance. It was another rider coming toward her, someone who had come to visit the house surprisingly early in the morning.

Rachel slowed the pace of her horse and trotted toward the rider, trying to see who it was. The closer she got, the more surprised she was by the visitor.

“Good day,” she said as she reached their side. “I am startled to see you here so early in the morning.”

“There is something we must speak about, Your Grace.”

* * *

“What are you doing?” Dorothea’s question rendered Daniel suddenly active.

He’d been standing in the doorway of his study, staring at the papers on his desk and all the work he had to do, yet he was reluctant to do any of it. When Dorothea appeared behind him, he walked away from the study, heading to another part of the house entirely, with her trailing behind him.

“Thinking,” he muttered quietly.

“Yes, thinking. What an elaborate answer that is,” Dorothea scoffed.

He strode into the great hall that held the armory that had been collected by the dukedom over generations. Uncertain why he had come here of all places, he stood in the very middle and turned in a circle, looking at the weapons.

“You and I must talk, Daniel,” Dorothea said, stopping beside him. She flicked a fan in front of her face, clearly trying to cool down in the strong heat of the day.

“What must we talk of?” he asked distractedly, his eyes on the weapons that he had shown Rachel. For the first time, when he looked at these weapons, his initial thought hadn’t been of war, but of Rachel.

“This absurdity about not giving me great nieces and nephews.” At these words, he looked sharply at his aunt.

“Auntie, I argued about this with my wife last night. I will not have the same discussion with you now.” His words prompted her eyebrows to shoot up. “This decision was mine, and mine alone.” He walked away, moving closer to the weapons.

“You are wrong. It was yours and your wife’s decision, but you made it on your own.” Dorothea’s sharp tone made him pause. He hesitated in front of the weapons, not turning to look at her. “Come on, then, tell me your reasoning. I can’t imagine after the childhood you had that you would think it sad enough not to be interested in having children.”

“Auntie—”

“Your father was not the warmest of men, but he did love you, and as for your mother, my sister—” Dorothea broke off. The sudden emotion in her voice and the way her breath hitched forced Daniel to turn around. He saw a sad smile on her lips at the memory of his mother. “Well, she adored you and Anne. I watched on with admiration whenever she was with you. A more devoted mother would be hard to find.”

Daniel thrust a hand into his hair and walked away. He leaned against the wall stacked full of armor and gazed at all the gleaming shields and silver plates.

“So, that cannot be your reasoning.” Dorothea clasped her hands together, putting down her fan. “May I presume that this has something to do with it?” She gestured toward the weaponry and armor with her fan.

“I saw what the world is capable of, Auntie,” Daniel confessed at last in a quiet whisper. “How can I bring a child into that?”

“I see.” Rather than getting angry, Dorothea nodded slowly in thought. She walked past him, her eyes scouring the wall. “Is it what men are capable of that you really fear, or is it the darkness on your shoulders, the haunting nightmares, the memories?”

Her perceptive question made him turn to face her, with his eyes wide.

“Both,” he answered honestly.

“Then I can hardly say it is not a valid concern, can I?” Dorothea said, her voice quiet. “There is something you should know about parents, dearest.” She looked back at him. “As a mother or father, you always worry about your child. You worry when they have a headache, you worry if they will topple and fall down when they start to take their first steps, and you worry if they will make good decisions in life when they’re older.”

“What is your point?”

“My point is that no one can protect their child from everything in this world. Your mother would have tried to if she could.” She smiled sadly in thought, then walked toward him and said in a somber voice, “Any parent protects their child from the cruelties, the depravities of others, and a darkness that can linger in here.” She reached up and gently tapped his temple. “It’s about teaching your child a happy way to live, despite all of those things.”

“Auntie, please.” Daniel winced.

“Do not shut me out.” She shook her head slowly. “What I am trying to point out to you is that if you decide never to have children, I hope it will be for the right reason, rather than a reason that would simply make both you and your wife unhappy. Children would bring you both happiness, I am certain of that.”

“Me too?” he asked, startled at her words.

“Come now, Daniel, we can both see that Rachel is the protective type, but you are no less so.” She smiled. “You watch over Anne like a hawk, and you are now so concerned about the way she looks at your friend that you have just brought it up to her over breakfast. You are protective, caring, a father in the making—”

“Auntie, please,” he said again, not wishing to have this conversation anymore.

“This world is a cruel place, that is something I cannot deny.” She sighed heavily and walked around him, heading for the door in the great hall. “All I can say is something that your mother said on the matter, the day you were born.”

“What did she say?” Daniel asked with sudden interest.

Dorothea hesitated in the doorway, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “She said that she was sorry the world could not be good enough for you, but…” She paused and smiled. “She knew the world turned, and she prayed that someday, it would be a better place for you. I shall leave you to your thoughts, Daniel.”

She walked away, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she left.

When the sound faded, Daniel stepped back, his eyes scanning all the weaponry on the walls and the armory that went back hundreds of years. There was something in his aunt’s words that had caught his interest.

Maybe someday, this world will be a better place.

He walked toward the swords and took out the weapon that he’d used in the war, holding it up in front of him. Strangely, it didn’t feel as heavy as he once remembered it being.

“Ah, Rachel, I’m so sorry,” he whispered aloud.

It came crashing down suddenly, as if he’d been struck by a lightning bolt by the thought. He should have told Rachel. It would have been a hard discussion indeed, but she had had a right to know. He should have told her, long before they had made love, so she knew what it was that would exist between them.

I have to talk to her.

He returned the sword to the wall, then hurried to the door, glancing back once before he closed it and blocked out the sight of all those weapons.

* * *

“Shouldn’t she be back by now?” Daniel looked away from the window and into the sitting room where he stood.

Behind him, on one settee sat Anne and Dorothea together. Anne still looked pale but had much recovered. She also kept rolling her eyes at her aunt’s admonishments. Mrs. Brooks stood beside them, having brought in tea.

The three ladies didn’t say anything, but all stared back at him.

“It’s late,” he said simply, looking at the candles Mrs. Brooks had lit on a table.

Beyond the window, the sun had dropped so far in the sky that the few wispy clouds there had turned purple. Despite the late hour, the heat was still strong. Daniel pushed his sleeves up past his elbows, trying to cool himself.

“She should be back by now.”

“She may not return,” Anna muttered.

“Anne,” Dorothea hissed, trying to quieten her.

“I simply mean she may wish to spend the night at her father’s house. That is all,” Anne said with a shrug. Daniel looked harshly at her, suddenly feeling the urge to blame her. “What?” she asked, her face a picture of innocence. “This is not my doing, Daniel.”

“No? Who was it that spluttered something out which made my wife run from my house? Run from me?” His accusing tone made Anne stiffen in her seat. She looked down as Mrs. Brook placed a teacup in her hands.

Daniel looked away. Despite his wish to blame Anne, he knew he could not. The manner of the revelation was Anne’s doing, but the revelation itself was his responsibility. He was the one who had not told Rachel before of his wish not to have children.

I cannot have Rachel leave me now.

The mere thought that Rachel might stay with her sisters permanently and refuse to come home at all knocked the wind out of him. He stared at the driveway in front of the house, praying she would appear at any second, but she didn’t. It remained firmly empty, the gravel falling into darkness as the light outside dimmed.

“I will go to her.” He walked abruptly away from the window.

“At this hour?” Dorothea asked in surprise.

“I shall take a horse. I have to speak to her.”

“I’ll ask for a horse to be prepared for you,” Mrs. Brooks said quickly, not making a move to stop him.

Everything happened fast, and soon Daniel strode out of the house, pulling on his riding jacket as he headed for his horse. As he reached for the steed that had been prepared for him, he started to rehearse in his mind everything he hoped to say to Rachel. He would apologize for not telling her sooner and beg her to come home.

His life had changed with her in it. He had no wish to go back to the dark days of the nightmares and waking up lonely, thinking of just one thing. Rachel had brought lightness and the excitement of thinking of so many other things, apart from war. He needed her back. He couldn’t lose this life now that he had found it. It was too precious to let go.

He rode fast through the streets toward her father’s house and arrived with haste, the horse complaining and whinnying loudly as he pulled on the reins harshly and they came to a stop. The stable master was clearly startled by his arrival, for he ran out, tucking in his shirt to appear formal. He took the horse from Daniel and bid him to go up to the house.

Daniel practically ran to the door and knocked loudly. With the heat still so strong, he pulled at his cravat, loosening it completely from his neck.

When the door opened, the butler jumped back in surprise. “Your Grace,” he murmured.

“Who is it?” a voice called from behind.

Daniel peered past to see Rachel’s sister, Emily, standing further back in the passageway. When their gazes connected, she stepped forward.

“Your Grace? What on earth are you doing here?” She turned to the butler and thanked him, then dismissed him.

“Rachel,” Daniel managed as he caught his breath from his mad ride. “I must see her.” He stepped past Emily and moved into the house.

“What did you say?” Emily followed him.

“I have to see my wife.”

“What’s all this noise?” Bridget appeared in the sitting room doorway, yawning and stretching, as if she had been napping. “Your Grace, this is a surprise.”

“A surprise? Surely not.” He looked around, his manner quite frantic as he waited for Rachel to appear, but she did not.

She must be with her father.

“Where is your father?”

“He’s traveling, Your Grace,” Bridget replied, stepping out of the sitting room. “He’s went to the south coast on a matter of business. You find us alone this evening.”

“Alone?” he repeated, his body stilling. He glanced quickly between the sisters, who moved to stand beside one another.

It didn’t help that they resembled Rachel a little bit. He could see her brow in Bridget’s, and something in Emily’s eyes reminded him so much of her. He turned away and pulled on his hair, frustrated and desperate to see her.

Why do I ache so much, when she has been gone for just one day?

“Please, I have come to see my wife. I know she came here this morning. I beg of you, let me see her. I know we argued, but I can remedy it. I must.” He added the latter part to himself rather than to the sisters, whose eyes had widened, and they looked at one another.

“Wait.” Bridget stepped forward. “You said Rachel came here this morning?”

“Yes, she did.”

“No, Your Grace, she did not.” Bridget shook her head.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that we have not seen our sister today. Not at all.” Bridget’s voice grew quiet. “If Rachel was headed here, then… then she never arrived.”