Chapter 24

CHAPTER24

“Jacob, why are you ignoring your wife?” Catarina reached for her wine glass and lifted it to her lips, her fidgeting continuing around the spindle.

“I am not ignoring her.”

“Oh, and is the Pope not Catholic?” she said wryly. “You have disregarded her as much as is feasibly possible for a man to do this last week. She has said that you even intend to consider sending one of you to the country estate.”

“I have not done that.” He couldn’t, despite the temptation. He could not bear to think of one of them being alone in either house.

“Why would you even suggest doing so in the first place? Goodness, Jacob.” Catarina was in full flow now, her words coming fast and with great alacrity. “When your father and I fell in love—”

“Wait, Mother.” He leaned forward. “Emily and I have professed no such thing for one another.”

“And do you wish me to mutter my wry statement about the Pope not being Catholic again?” she asked, frowning deeply. “Let us accept matters for what they are, Jacob. When your father and I fell in love, we spent most of our days together. We were two companions, friends, as well as lovers.”

“Ah, Mother,” he grimaced, not wanting to think of what his mother and father had done together at night.

“My point is that love is not about ignoring one another or causing pain.”

“I am trying to prevent the worst kind of pain,” he said suddenly, veering forward in his seat. “Mother, surely you can understand this better than anyone. You are the one who has told me my whole life about how like my father I am. God’s wounds, you have even set up multiple visits with Doctor Rainer because you fear I am so like him.”

Catarina’s lips fell apart and closed repeatedly. She fidgeted so much with her glass now that she passed it between her hands, in danger of sloshing the liquid beyond the rim.

“What if you are right and in a few years’ time I am to die as he did? Yes? For it is possible.”

“No, no. It cannot be possible.” There were sudden tears in her eyes. “I refuse to believe it—”

“You refuse to say it, but you clearly believe it, or you would not have insisted on all of the appointments with the doctor,” he reminded her swiftly.

The glass in her grasp nearly turned upside down with all her fussing. Jacob reached forward and took the glass from her, placing it down on the table beside his own.

“What if you are right in that belief?” he asked, his voice deep. “Marrying for convenience was fine, then. I’d provide the heir to the dukedom you so long for, and the wife I had would be able to move on and find happiness, perhaps even marry for love next time.”

Catarina reached for her glass once more, but when he moved it out of her reach, she took her fork instead and turned it over in her palm repeatedly.

“Emily is different.” He swiftly took the fork and tossed that onto the table, far away. “I could not do that to her. I will not do to her what was forced onto you when my father passed.” He breathed heavily, the words out of his lips at last.

Slowly, Catarina turned her chin toward him. Her small eyes filled with tears, appearing larger in the glittering candlelight. The tears overflowed down her cheeks, trickling fast. Her breath came in short, stuttered breaths.

“Ah, Mother,” Jacob reached across the table and took her hand in his, holding it tight. “Please, do not cry. I do not want to remind you of that pain, just to acknowledge that it is unwise to expect anyone else to go through it.”

“I do not want that pain for Emily either.” She shook her head, trying to calm her breathing and control her breath. When her hand fidgeted in Jacob’s grasp, he placed it between both of his palms, intent on keeping her still. “Yet there is something we are missing in this conversation, something that you appear intent on ignoring.”

“What is that?” Jacob murmured in surprise.

“Plainly this.” Catarina shifted her body completely toward him, making it clear he was her sole focus. “For all the pain I suffered, and for all of my problems, do you think for one moment that I would turn back the clocks and not have married your father?”

Jacob stared speechless at his mother. When she shook her head, making her answer known, he released her hand and reached for his wine glass, taking a rather large gulp for he was suddenly thirsty.

“I would not give up the time we had together.” There was a sudden smile through her tears that transformed her features into one that madly confused Jacob.

His mother was both happy and sad, all at the same time—it was baffling!

“I love your father dearly, to this day, and the memories I have of him are everything. I treasure them, they keep me company day and night, and I would not be without those memories. I made the right decision when I agreed to marry your father, and nothing will ever change that.”

“You astonish me,” Jacob whispered, marveling at the strength in his mother’s reaction.

“I can see that.” She motioned to his face. “Do not drink too much of that wine, dearest. From what I hear from Payton, you have been relying on it rather too much of late.”

She is right.

Slowly, Jacob put down the glass and slid it away from himself across the table.

“Maybe I need some time apart from it.” The wine had become a constant companion in the evening, a way to dull his senses and feelings. He’d have to order tea or coffee instead, anything to avoid the liquor.

“Emily is a good woman,” Catarina said suddenly, her voice so soft that Jacob leaned forward, the better to hear her. “And I know she loves you.”

“How can you know?”

“A mother knows these things. Have you not heard that mothers know best, dear?” she teased him.

“I’ve heard it.” He smiled a little.

“So, trust me now. She loves you.” Her smile turned sad. “If what you feared was your wife missing you by losing you, then I am afraid you have already given her that pain, for she fears she has lost you already.”

Jacob sat back again, his spine crumpling against the seat in a most uncomfortable way. He didn’t fidget to rearrange himself, however, and just contended with that pain.

“Do not cause her and yourself pain, Jacob,” Catarina pleaded. Slowly, she stood from her chair and leaned over him. She placed a kiss on his temple, and Jacob closed his eyes. His mother had not kissed him on the head since he was a small boy. “You deserve to be happy. Just because my fears for you have led to some aspects of life being… difficult.” She stepped back, grimacing as she struggled for the right word. “That is no way to live.”

He parted his lips, ready to tell her about the doctor’s caution regarding his bloodshot eyes, but he changed his mind, closing his lips again. It would worry her unnecessarily when that red soreness could be from nothing at all.

“Live life to the fullest, my dear. Not in fear of what may come.” She kissed him once more on the forehead and turned to leave the room. In the doorway she hesitated, glancing back toward him. “May I take it that you will talk to your wife?”

“Soon,” Jacob raised his voice so she could hear him on the other side of the room. “First, I must think of what you have said.”

She nodded, then stepped back through the doorway.

“Do not think for too long.” She was gone, turning on her heel and disappearing down the corridor.

In the empty room, Jacob swept his plate to the side and rested his forehead on the table, deep in thought from what his mother had said.

She thinks Emily loves me. How can she think such a thing?

The news of Emily’s tears had done much to him to make him ache, just as her hurried exit from the dining room had hurt him too.

Perhaps my mother is right. Something must be said between us, but what?

Jacob still had no idea what to say to her. Without being able to make a decision, he retired to his chamber and tried to get that sleep which had evaded him for so many nights.

* * *

“Dear God.” Jacob stared up at the canopy over his bed. At last, the morning was on the horizon, for a gray light filtered through his curtains and fell on that canopy.

The hour was still early, perhaps too early, and he should not yet rise from his bed. Despite the feeling, Jacob moved to the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. They were sore and painful, even dry. He hoped it was from the lack of sleep and that nothing else was amiss.

Standing from the bed, he crossed to a basin of water on a sideboard and splashed his face, paying particular attention to his eyes. When they only felt sorer, he rubbed at them, then pushed open the curtains, allowing more of that eerie gray morning light into the room so he could see what he was doing clearly. Standing by the mirror, he gazed at his reflection.

If anything, his eyes were worse than before. As well as the whites being red and the pupils strongly dilated, the skin around his eyes was red too.

“God’s wounds,” he muttered and threw the towel he had been using to dry his face onto the nearest sideboard.

His wish to retire early to try and sleep had failed him. He’d tossed and turned all night, thinking of Emily as she sat forlornly at the dining table the night before, and also of his mother’s words.

Catarina had stunned him. He’d always presumed that after the troubles she’d had, she would regret marrying his father. Surely it would have been better to have married another and had him for longer? Her denial of such a fact shook him to his core.

This is not what I expected.

Choosing not to bother his valet so early in the morning, Jacob dressed himself, pulling on his riding clothes and a tight-fitting dark green jacket. Once dressed in his riding boots, he moved to the door that adjoined his chamber to Emily’s and leaned against it, curling a finger around the bolt that kept her locked on the other side.

It would be so easy now to draw back this bolt, to go to her, and to at least try to explain some of his thinking, but what then? He hadn’t quite decided what he should tell her yet. At the very least, he had to make up his mind about what it was that he was going to say first.

Releasing the bolt, he stepped back into the chamber and moved toward the window, staring out across the gray morning. Clouds had gathered overhead, thick and dreary. There was scarcely any light at all on the ground, though enough that Jacob could see the grass was covered in dew.

A deer entered the lawn from the trees at a distance, nibbling at some grass before retreating again, deeper into the woodland. Blackbirds flitted from one tree to the next, occasionally darting down to the ground to gather worms before they flew on again.

“At least out there, there is a distraction.” With this in mind, he left the chamber, hurrying down the stairs.

He saw no one as he left the house as it was so early. Not Payton, Mrs. Wright, or even the attentive Harlow, who had taken to his duty of watching over Emily with great care for the last couple of weeks.

Jacob strode through the front door, locking it behind him, then made his way to the stable. In the corner of the stable, he found there was at least one of his staff that was up.

His groomsman was brushing down one of the horses, humming a soft tune in his deep tone.

“Ah, Your Grace.” Startled, he turned to face Jacob and bowed. “Goodness, this is early for a ride.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Jacob nodded at the horse. “You are up early yourself.”

“I heard the horse stirring.” The groomsman patted Jacob’s stallion beside him. “He’s a restless spirit today, it seems.”

“I know the feeling. Saddle him for me, if you would. I shall take him for a ride. Perhaps it will calm us both.”

“Very good, Your Grace.” The groomsman prepared the horse as Jacob looked back at the house, his eyes darting up to Emily’s window that he could see from his position. The curtains were firmly drawn, suggesting Emily was still fast asleep.

Once the horse was ready, Jacob pulled himself into the saddle and nodded his thanks at the groomsman.

“If anyone asks after you, Your Grace, where shall I say you have gone?”

“Just for a ride across the estate. I shall be back soon enough. I am even likely to return before the rest of the house wakes.” He nodded his head in parting and urged the horse to trot slowly out of the stable.

They started at this slow speed, heading across the lawn. Halfway down the grass, Jacob pulled on the reins and halted, looking back once more. He could not explain why he kept glancing at Emily’s window, perhaps in some foolish hope that she would wake and peer beyond the curtains, maybe offer a small wave.

Fool of a man.

Chastising himself for such errant hopes after how he had pushed her away, he pulled on the reins once more. He and the steed set off at a fast pace across the grass, heading toward the woodland on the estate. They traveled so quickly, that the trees whipped by them, the branches in danger of pulling at Jacob’s hair and clothes.

Beneath him, the horse snorted and panted, his tail flicking and his ears turning back as he clearly enjoyed the morning ride. They jumped a small log and then angled around the next large oak tree, banking along the side of a vast pond, stretching deeper into the woodland still.

Jacob had spent hours in these woodlands as a child, losing himself in the wonders of nature. They were often a pleasant distraction, yet today, he was all too aware of that grayness. The birds that flitted by had no happy songs, but only sad tunes.

The horse snorted in an unusual way beneath him, and Jacob looked down, patting the horse.

“Off your oats, boy?” he mumbled to the horse, who grunted, as if in agreement. “I know how you feel.”

He turned the horse away from the pond and urged him higher up the hill, deciding it was better they both got in some good exercise before they returned to the house. The stallion seemed to struggle part way up the hill, an unusual thing for this skilled horse, so Jacob urged him on further still, before slowing near the top of the hill.

Comfortingly, he tapped the horse’s neck, trying to offer something to make him feel better. The horse’s nose dropped to the ground as they reached the top of the hill, not looking at the view as Jacob did, but focusing on the grass beneath him.

“Maybe we need to get you back to the stable,” Jacob muttered quietly, fearing there could be something greatly wrong with the horse. Stepping down off the saddle, he moved toward the horse’s head and patted his nose. The steed pressed himself further into Jacob’s grasp, as if seeking out further comfort. “Something is wrong.”

As the horse caught his breath, Jacob looked out from the brow of the hill, down to his estate. Cast in this gray light, it was not half so welcoming as it sometimes was. From this distance as well, the house seemed far away indeed, and certainly a long journey. Reluctant to make the horse face his weight again, Jacob flicked the reins over the animal’s ear and pulled forward.

“Come, we shall walk. It will be easier for you.”

The horse didn’t want to move at first, sticking its hooves into the ground, but eventually obeyed the order and they walked forward together through the trees, dropping down one side of the hill. Repeatedly, Jacob glanced at the horse, wondering what could be wrong with the animal. With a sense of discomfort, it reminded him of his fears for himself—what could be hidden and unknown and unseeable to the naked eye. What could have the power to deplete one’s life force?

“I wish I could say it is not a far walk,” he whispered to the animal as they stepped between the trees. To their left, the hill grew steep, and a sheer drop opened up, craggy with rocks. “Yet it is.”

The animal grunted and his hooves slipped beneath him. The horse veered to the side and Jacob thrust against him, trying to stay standing and keep far back from the cliff face. “Careful, boy.”

The horse slipped once more. He neighed, whinnying loudly, but unable to stay standing, he dropped, his weight pushing Jacob over.

“No!” Yet there was nothing Jacob could do to stop himself from falling. His body catapulted into the sheer drop, and he fell through the open air, toward the rocks beneath.