Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

“ Y ou’re not going to like what I have to say,” William began in a solemn tone.

“I rarely do.”

“Just promise me that you will not get mad.”

“I promise nothing of the sort—and hand me that bottle, will you? My glass has been empty for close to five minutes now, which is beginning to look like a problem.”

“Well, that’s just it…” William held the bottle close to his chest. “What I wanted to say is that I think you have had enough.”

Frederick narrowed his eyes at his brother. “I do hope that you are joking.”

“Ordinarily, yes, for few enjoy a joke as much as I do. But in this case…” William looked at Frederick, no sense of humor whatsoever in his eyes. “I am afraid that I must put my foot down.”

“How about you put that foot down closer to me…” Frederick leaned forward to snatch the bottle back, but William was quick, leaping to his feet and dancing away.

“It is for your own good, Brother.”

“Get back here!”

“You will thank me tomorrow.”

“If I do not kill you first.”

“Ha!” William stood at the back of the room, one eyebrow raised in derision. “And how will you do that? You can barely stand.”

“You want a bet?”

“How about this…” William smirked. “If you can lay even a single hand on me, I will happily hand you this bottle. But if you cannot, I will pour it out before your eyes in a display of brotherly love. For that is why I do this, Brother. I do it for—woah!”

He started as Frederick lunged at him.

It was the epitome of a poor display.

Sitting on the sofa in the drawing room, Frederick pushed himself to his feet and threw his body toward his brother, figuring to tackle him and then wrestle the bottle from his hand. But he had been drinking since noon, it was now nearing early evening, and the liquor had hit him a little harder than he thought.

His knees gave way beneath him. He managed to catch himself before falling, stumbled forward, attempted a leap, only to trip and land hard on his knees. Even then, attempting to push himself up, there just wasn’t enough strength in his arms. He rolled over onto his back and stare up at the ceiling… just in time for the room to begin spinning around him.

“Told you.” William stood over him, looking down at his face. “You have had more than enough.”

“I am the older brother here,” Frederick scoffed. “And I will not be spoken to like that.” He swung his hand back, thinking to smack William’s legs and declare himself the winner, only for William to easily step out of the way.

“This is for your own good.” William walked to the fireplace and uncorked the bottle, before holding it over the flames.

“No!” Frederick scrambled to his knees, reaching out a hand to stop him, but it was too late.

William poured the liquor into the flames, an act that made them roar as they consumed the flammable liquid. Heat spewed from the fireplace, which had William dancing backwards to avoid getting burned.

“Oh!” he cried. “Yes, I should have seen that coming.”

“You idiot,” Frederick snarled. “That was my last bottle!”

“A good thing, I think.”

“Now, what will I do?!”

“Sober up,” William said rightly as he put the bottle down and walked to where Frederick was still on the floor. There, he sat down cross-legged and rested a hand on his brother’s back. “For drinking this way is unbecoming of you, Brother, and I should know, seeing as I am the boozehound of the family.”

“Not anymore,” Frederick muttered bitterly.

“It is not an answer,” William sighed. “And it is certainly not a panacea. It dulls the senses, but it does not erode them, leaving them raw and exposed for when the inevitable hangover kicks in later.”

“Which is why I will drink as soon as I wake up…” Frederick groaned as he forced himself to his feet, then collapsed back onto the sofa. “It has worked well, so far.”

“Brother…” There was no humor in Willima’s voice, only worry. “This is not you. Please, you must see what you are doing.”

“And what is that?”

“Running,” he said matter-of-factly. “Running because it seems easier than facing the truth.”

“The truth?” Frederick scoffed. “The only truth is my sudden thirst, which will now go unquenched.”

“The truth that you miss her,” William corrected. “That you pine for her. That you cannot face the world sober because if you do, you might suddenly realize the horrible mistake you made.”

Frederick snarled. “You could not be further from the truth , Brother.”

William snorted. “Like drinking, lies do not become you. Not even a little bit.”

Frederick bared his teeth at his brother, thinking that another rebuke was in order. But his brother fixed him with a no-nonsense glare, a clear indication that he wasn’t here to argue. What he was here for was to console, to help heal, to make sure that Frederick didn’t do anything stupid. Even if it was much too late for that…

It had been five days now since Hannah had left. Five of the worst days in Frederick’s life, and it wasn’t even close.

The first two had been the easiest, for Frederick had been able to convince himself that he had made the right choice. A hard choice but a necessary one. He and Hannah wanted different things, there was to be no getting around them, and rather than prolong the inevitable, he had made the difficult choice and ended it before there was a chance for it to become worse and more messy.

It wasn’t easy doing the right thing, but… but he told himself that she would forgive him. He had freed her, he thought. He had given her an out. Now she was free to find someone new, someone else to love, someone who might give her what he could not. And for two days, he had held that thought close, for it was all he could do to keep himself from breaking.

But break he did.

It became harder to go to bed at night, the room empty, the bed cold. It had become harder to wake up each morning to the same. Time and again he questioned if he had been a stubborn fool and if he had acted hastily and without thought. So what if she wanted another child? So what if his last experience had been tragic? They were different. They were in love. Surely, that would be enough?

But the days passed, Hannah did not return, and to Frederick, that was a sign that she agreed with his decision. She would not change her mind and did not expect him to either. That this marriage was well and truly over.

Cue the depression. Cue the anger. Cue the sadness. Cue the drinking! For three days, Frederick did little more than drink. And when his brother arrived on the fifth day following Hannah’s departure, Frederick hoped that he might join him in his wallowing, rather than doing as he was and trying to save him.

“Have you considered going to see her?” William asked as he took a seat beside him.

“I do not want to see her,” Frederick lied.

“How about a letter, then? Reach out. See how she is doing? You might be surprised.”

“I do not care,” he lied again. “What’s done is done, Brother, and I hope that you would see that. I hope that you are here to drink with me, because that is what I need from you. Not this…” He waved between them. “This attempt to console me, for I do not need it.”

“What do you need?”

“A drink!”

William snorted. “You never were much of a drinker, Frederick, and now I can see why. Go to her,” he urged. “Speak with her. It is not too late!”

“Do I need to ask you to leave?”

He rolled his eyes. “You think I would leave you in this state? You think I would leave Amelia to this?”

That had Frederick reeling back in guilt. He had not been a good father of late. Dammit, he had been a terrible one. These last three days especially, unable to deal with the tantrums and anger that his daughter had spewed at him when she had learned that Hannah wasn’t coming back, he had ordered Miss Temperton to look after her until he was able to do so himself.

That Amelia was so upset with Hannah’s departure spoke to Frederick’s decision, in some ways confirming that it was the right one. Although he had not wanted to use Amelia as an excuse, he had thought that Hannah would make a good mother. But she wanted a child of her own, and surely that would upset Amelia further?

No… even that was not an argument that he could stomach. Amelia was devastated to learn that Hannah had left, and he had no doubt that Hannah would miss her, too. Again, all Frederick could do was double down on his initial decision to never have children again.

“Where is Amelia, anyhow?” William asked. “I have not seen her since I arrived.”

“Some uncle you are…” Frederick muttered bitterly.

William scoffed. “Too busy looking after you. Now, come on…” He slapped him on the thigh and stood up. “Let us go find her.”

“Why?”

“To remind her that you are her father and still love her,” he said rightly. “For as bad as things are right now, imagine how she is feeling? The least you can do is ensure her that she is still loved and not forgotten, and that Hannah did not leave because of her.”

“She knows that.”

“Let us make sure…”

He held out a hand for Frederick to take. Frederick eyed it. William raised an eyebrow, and Frederick groaned, before taking his brother’s hand and then pulling himself to his feet.

From there, the two brothers trudged through the house, much needed by Frederick, as it worked to flush the drink out of his system. They made for the nursery, where Frederick expected Amelia and Miss Temperton to be, only to find it empty.

Next, they tried several of the playrooms and drawing rooms and areas of the house where lessons were taken. Again, empty. Her bedroom after that, the washroom, and a little nook that Frederick knew Amelia hid in when she was feeling down. Once again, empty.

Now, Frederick was beginning to panic.

“Outside,” he said, storming through the house and toward the back garden. “She is likely taking advantage of the warm weather.”

He willed himself to believe it, despite his rising panic.

The sun was just beginning to dip beneath the horizon, painting the sky in dark orange and purple and red—it seemed to match his mood perfectly.

He stepped onto the porch, and he sighed in relief when saw Miss Temperton hurrying across the garden and back toward the house. It looked to him like she was chasing Amelia, or the two were playing a game of hide and seek. Only then he noticed the look of worry on her face.

“Your Grace!” she cried out when she saw him. “Have you seen her? Please, tell me you have! Oh God!”

“Miss Temperton!” He strode toward her. “Where is Amelia?”

He looked around the large garden, his eyes searching frantically.

“Forgive me!” she wept as she reached him. Her entire body shook, and tears were already brimming in her eyes.

Frederick’s stomach dropped at the sight. Another glance around the garden confirmed it was empty. “Miss Temperton, where is my daughter?”

“I sent her outside to read,” she explained frantically. “I told her I would be out in a minute, but I used the time to clean her room, leaving her alone for only an hour, I swear! It can’t have been long, but?—”

“My daughter,” he growled, his nerves getting the better of him. “Where is she?”

“That is just it, Your Grace! When I came outside, she was gone! I don’t know where or how or… or… or where she is! Oh God!”

Miss Temperton threw herself at him, weeping openly, her body shaking with worry.

And Frederick, suddenly sober, felt as if he might vomit. Again he looked around the garden and then to the plains beyond the house, the setting sun, for darkness would be upon them soon.

His daughter, his little girl, had run away. And not so deep down—for it was too obvious for that—he knew that it was all his fault.