Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Winston heard a faint knocking in the distance, but all he could seem to focus on was the throbbing in his head. What time was it? He managed to open his eyes wide enough to see the sun streaming through the windows. How long had he slept? And why had he been sleeping on the ground?

The knocking grew more insistent, forcing him to lift himself onto the settee.

“ What?! ” he shouted, immediately regretting it as his head throbbed even more. Blazes. How much did he drink last night?

The door opened and Melody stepped into the room. Judging by the tight set of her lips, she was not pleased with him. “You missed breakfast,” she remarked.

“Well, thank you for informing me of something so utterly unimportant,” he muttered dryly.

Melody glanced down at the empty bottle of whiskey, her frown deepening. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Winston looked up at her through half-lidded eyes. “Leave me alone, Woman.”

Melody’s hand went to her hip. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, her words holding a warning .

Knowing he was going to fight a losing battle, he decided it was best to apologize. “I’m sorry. I am rather bottle-wearied,” he said.

Walking over to the bottle, Melody held it up. “Is this what you did last night?”

“It was,” he admitted.

Melody went and placed it on the table. “And what of your plans with Mattie and her family? Did you intend to miss dinner with them?”

Winston groaned. He had every intention of going until he started drinking. Then the rest of the night was more of a blur.

“Did you at least send word to them?” Melody pressed.

“No.”

Melody sighed, clearly disappointed in him. “What are you doing, Winston?” she asked. “This is not you.”

“It is who I have become,” Winston stated.

“Says who?”

Winston brought his hands up to his head, hoping this blasted headache would go away. “Just leave, Melody.”

“No.”

He turned his head towards her. “No?” he asked. “But I don’t want you here.”

“I care not what you want,” Melody replied.

“I do not want you to see me like this.”

Melody shrugged. “Then you shouldn’t have drunken yourself into oblivion last night,” she said. “I have no doubt that Mattie will be upset, as well she should be, but you can fix this.”

“For what purpose?” he demanded.

Leaning towards him, Melody replied, “Let’s start with it is the right thing to do.”

He scoffed. “What do you know about right and wrong?”

“Apparently, more than you do,” Melody retorted before she cocked her head. “What is troubling you? ”

Rising, Winston removed the cravat that hung around his neck and tossed it onto the floor. “Leave it,” he stated firmly, turning away from her.

Melody appeared unbothered by the sharpness of his words. “You can shut me out, you can shut everyone out, but that is only hurting yourself.”

Spinning around, Winston demanded, “And what do you know about pain? You live in a gilded cage, and do not have a care in the world.”

Melody stood there, taking a moment to consider his words, her expression thoughtful. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady and calm, a stark contrast to his. “It appears that we both know very little about one another.” She walked over to the door. “But the difference is, I am not actively trying to ruin my future.”

Winston felt a stab of guilt at how he was treating his sister. He had no right to talk to her in such a fashion, especially since she was only trying to help him. “Melody… wait,” Winston said. “I’m sorry.”

His sister placed a hand on the door handle. “When you are ready to talk, I am here to listen. But I am not going to force you. That isn’t fair to you, or me.”

After his sister left his bedchamber, Winston hung his head. What was wrong with him? The worst part was that he knew Melody was right. He was trying to ruin his future because he didn’t think he was worthy of one.

He had wanted to forget, but his actions last night were inexcusable. He had been a terrible friend to Mattie, especially since she had been counting on him. And he had let her down. For what? A chance to forget his past?

It didn’t work. His memories were still there, haunting him every time he closed his eyes.

Winston walked over to the bed and sat down. What was he to do? He couldn’t keep going on as he had been. But what choice did he have? He felt trapped in his own despair, unsure of the way forward.

His dark-haired valet, Brown, entered the room, offering a polite but knowing smile. “Good morning, my lord,” he greeted. “I took the liberty of calling for a bath for you.”

“I do not require a bath,” Winston grumbled, rubbing his temples.

“That is not what Lady Melody said,” Brown responded with a touch of humor. “I believe her exact words were ‘Lord Winston stinks and requires a bath at once.’”

Winston lifted his arm and smelled his armpit, grimacing at the offensive odor. His sister wasn’t wrong.

Brown went about tidying up the room. “Lady Melody also requested you be sent up a tray of food.”

“Since when did you start taking orders from my sister?” Winston asked.

Holding a cravat in his hand, Brown responded, “Your sister can be rather frightening.”

“Melody?” Winston asked, raising an eyebrow.

Brown tipped his head in acknowledgement. “She may be very soft-spoken, but I do not dare defy her. Her words have authority.”

Winston let out a soft chuckle. “Melody is harmless.”

“I am not so sure that is true,” Brown said, continuing his task. “Have you seen her shoot a pistol? She has remarkable aim.”

His brow furrowed. “Melody can shoot a pistol?”

“Yes, my lord,” Brown replied. “She practices nearly every day in the gardens. Have you not seen her?”

With a glance at the window, he replied, “I suppose I haven’t.”

Brown placed the discarded clothing onto the dressing table. “Lady Melody also can speak many languages. It is rather unnerving.”

“Every genteel woman speaks a few languages,” Winston defended. “But I will admit it is odd that she can speak a little Russian.”

“A little?” Brown asked. “I daresay she is fluent, at least that is what Lady Melody’s lady’s maid informed me of.”

Winston gave his valet a look of disbelief. “I doubt that to be true.”

Brown shrugged. “Regardless, she also asked for me to order some flowers for Miss Mattie Bawden, Miss Emma and their cousin, Miss Francesca Bawden.”

“That is not an awful idea,” Winston said. “Do you have time to go into the village?”

“I can make the time, my lord,” Brown assured him.

Winston bobbed his head. “Good,” he stated. “Women like flowers, and that might make the upcoming conversation with Miss Bawden much more tolerable.”

A knock interrupted their conversation.

Brown walked over and opened the door, revealing a footman with a metal basin. He brought it in and placed it down by the fireplace. Additional footmen walked into the room and filled the basin full of water.

Winston walked over to the basin and dipped his fingers into the water. It was cold. “Did you not instruct the cook to boil the water?”

“Your sister was insistent that you needed a bath as quickly as possible,” Brown responded, turning away from him.

“Need I remind you that you work for me?” Winston remarked as he removed his white shirt.

In a jovial voice, Brown said, “I am well aware, but I do not wish to upset Lady Melody. For any reason.”

Winston just shook his head, more amused than anything by his valet’s irrational fear of Melody. He quickly undressed and stepped into the bath. The cold water was uncomfortable, but he had no intention of lingering. He had far more pressing matters to attend to.

A short time later, he stepped out of the bath and Brown extended him a towel. He dried off and walked over to the bed where his clothing had been meticulously laid out. Once he was dressed, he approached the mirror and began adjusting his cravat.

“You are married, are you not?” Winston asked, his gaze still fixed on the mirror as he smoothed the fabric into place.

“Yes, my lord,” Brown replied. “I have been for some time now.”

Turning slightly, Winston met Brown’s gaze in the mirror. “Are you happy?”

Brown eyed him curiously. “Why do you ask, my lord?”

Winston dropped his hands to his sides. “Does a wife make you happy?”

“She does make me happy, but that is not why I am happy,” Brown replied. “Unless one is truly happy within one’s own heart, one cannot be happy no matter the circumstances.”

With a sigh, Winston said, “I was afraid you were going to say that.” He walked over to the door, pausing for a moment. “Good day, Brown.”

Once Winston was alone in the corridor, he felt a deep sense of emptiness. He was never going to be happy. Not even taking a wife would change that. Which was a relief since he didn’t want one. Especially now. Perhaps he should just retire to the cottage on his sheep farm and live out the remainder of his days. Alone.

Winston started down the stairs and he saw Elodie was speaking to White. She turned towards him. “Good morning, Brother.”

“Good morning,” he greeted.

Elodie observed him for a moment before saying, “You don’t look as awful as I thought you would.”

“You must have been talking to Melody,” Winston remarked.

“I was, and I saw the metal basin being brought up the stairs for you,” Elodie said. “How bad was your night last night?”

Winston winced. “It wasn’t the best.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Elodie asked.

“No.”

Elodie smiled. “Well, don’t say that I didn’t try,” she said. “Besides, Melody told me that you weren’t in a chatty mood.”

Winston ran a hand through his hair. “It would appear that Melody is the chatty one this morning.”

“Well, the coach is out front, waiting to take you to Mattie’s cottage,” Elodie said, her smile growing.

“I thought I would wait until Brown ordered flowers to be delivered to their cottage,” Winston shared.

Elodie bobbed her head in approval. “That is a fine idea. What shall we do while we wait?” She glanced towards the drawing room, her eyes twinkling. “We could always practice our embroidery.”

“I don’t embroider.”

Placing a hand to the side of her mouth, Elodie whispered, “I am not very good at it. But Mother is insistent I work on it. Like a performing monkey.”

Winston chuckled. “You are not a performing monkey.”

“I am not complaining,” Elodie responded with a slight shrug. “I saw monkeys perform tricks at the traveling circus and I thought they were adorable.”

“Well, as informative as this conversation is, I think I shall go eat something,” Winston said. “Melody requested a tray be sent to my room, but I finished dressing before it arrived.”

Elodie took a step towards him. “I’ll join you.”

Winston sighed inwardly. He wanted to be alone, knowing he was in rather a foul mood. “That wasn’t an invitation.”

“I know, but I think you could use the company,” Elodie insisted. “Follow me. If we hurry, there might be some plum cake left over from breakfast. ”

Winston knew he had no choice but to follow after his sister. At least he would get some plum cake out of it.

Mattie sat in the drawing room of her cottage, diligently working on her needlework. Her cousin, Franny, was sitting next to her, quietly reading a book. Across the room, Emma lounged in their father’s armchair, a look of utter boredom plastered on her face.

“Can we go into the village?” Emma asked, her voice dripping with whiny impatience.

Mattie lowered her needlework to her lap and looked up. “Whatever for?” she asked. “We do not need anything.”

“It might save me from dying from boredom,” Emma responded dramatically.

“We are in mourning,” Mattie reminded her, trying to keep her voice patient. She had lost count of how many times she had had to say this.

Emma sighed heavily. “Mourning is so boring,” she claimed. “Why can’t we mourn people by doing fun things?”

“We could go for a walk,” Mattie suggested.

“No, I do not want to soil my boots and have to clean them,” Emma said, inspecting her perfectly clean boots. “I will enjoy having a lady’s maid to do that tedious task for me.”

Mattie tried to hide her annoyance but was failing miserably. Emma seemed determined to ruin this quiet afternoon by her incessant complaining. “What if we ask Mrs. Watson to make us biscuits?”

Emma adjusted the sleeves on her black gown, her expression uninterested. “No, I need to fit into all the gowns that I will be commissioning when we arrive at Darlington Abbey.”

“For what purpose?” Mattie asked. “What is wrong with the dresses that you own? ”

Her sister looked at her like she was a simpleton. “My dresses were acceptable before, but now that Father is a viscount, we must look the part.”

“Father is not one to waste money when your gowns are sufficient,” Mattie said. “Furthermore, you do not need a new wardrobe until you have a Season.”

“Which will be next year,” Emma stated confidently.

Mattie pressed her lips together, feeling her patience wear thin. Not this again. “No, I am debuting next Season,” she reminded her sister firmly.

Emma waved her hand dismissively. “No one will care about you debuting, but I will be the diamond of the first water.”

“You are remarkably humble,” Mattie muttered under her breath.

A sudden pounding came from the door and Mrs. Watson emerged from the kitchen to answer it. A moment later, she stepped into the drawing room with three bouquets of flowers set in ornate vases.

Emma jumped up and approached Mrs. Watson eagerly. “Who are the flowers from?” she asked.

“Lord Winston,” Mrs. Watson replied as she carefully placed the vases on the table. “He sent flowers to each of the ladies in the house.”

Emma spun in a circle, her face lighting up. “This is the first time a gentleman has sent me flowers,” she gushed. “This is all so exciting.”

Mattie stood up and went to admire the flowers. “They are exquisite. Was there no card?”

“I was not given one,” Mrs. Watson replied.

Another knock came at the door, and Mrs. Watson went to answer it. She returned to the drawing room and she was followed by Winston.

Winston’s eyes landed on Mattie, and there was something in his gaze—an apology, perhaps, or a plea for understanding.

Before she could address Winston, Emma approached him with a graceful curtsy. “Thank you for the most beautiful flowers, my lord,” she said. “How did you know that roses were my favorite flower?”

Winston shifted uncomfortably. “I was not aware of that fact, but I am pleased you are happy with the flowers.”

“I am very happy,” Emma said. “It almost makes up for you not coming last night. Almost.” She flashed him a coy smile.

Winston winced. “I do apologize for not coming last night as planned, but something came up.”

“Oh, is everything all right?” Emma asked.

Winston nodded. “It is.” He shifted his gaze towards Mattie. “Would you care to take a walk with me?”

Mattie was about to refuse him since she was still upset about his absence the night before. But it was his eyes that were causing her pause. They were trying to tell her a story, one that she could not quite decipher. She took a step forward, her curiosity and concern intertwining. “Yes, I would like that.”

Winston offered his arm and Mattie accepted it. He led her outside, and they started walking through the open fields that surrounded her cottage. The fresh air was a welcome change, and for a moment, they walked in silence.

He broke the silence, his voice tinged with regret. “I want to apologize for not joining your family for dinner last night. I should have sent word.”

“Did something happen?” Mattie asked.

Winston grew silent, his face shadowed by thought. Finally, he spoke. “I had a conversation with Isaac after you departed from Brockhall Manor.”

“I take it that it did not go well,” Mattie said.

He shook his head. “No, it did not,” he responded. “He threatened you, and I’m afraid my temper got the best of me. I hit him squarely in the jaw. ”

Mattie smiled despite herself. “Is it unchristian of me to be pleased by that?”

“I should not have lost control, considering I was playing into Isaac’s hands,” Winston replied, his voice heavy with self-reproach.

“There is no shame in expressing one’s emotions,” Mattie said gently.

Winston frowned. “You seem to forget that I am a barrister. I am trained to mask my emotions so as not to give anything away.”

She glanced at him. “Does that apply to when you are in the courtroom or to your everyday life?”

He looked displeased by her question and turned his gaze towards the horizon. “Do you accept my apology or not?” he asked curtly.

“I do,” Mattie replied, sensing his inner turmoil. “But I feel as if you are wearing your mask with me now. Why is that?”

Winston came to a stop and dropped his hand. “Mattie… I appreciate what you are trying to do, but I do not wish to burden you with my troubles. You have your own to contend with at the moment.”

“I am not really good at this truce thing, but I think we are becoming friends,” Mattie said. “But if I am wrong, then tell me and I will walk away.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Winston admitted quietly.

“Then friends confide in one another,” Mattie said. “I may not be able to offer advice, but I would be happy to listen.”

Winston considered her for a moment before saying, “You don’t know what you are asking of me.”

Mattie took a step closer to him. “I think I do,” she replied. “I’m asking you to remove the mask for me and let me in.”

“And what if you don’t like what I have to say?” Winston asked, his words holding an edge to them.

“I am a daughter of a vicar so nothing you say will surprise me,” Mattie responded.

Winston ran a hand through his dark hair, frustration evident on his face. “You think you know me, but you know nothing about me,” he declared.

In a steady voice, Mattie said, “You and I have been at odds since we were young, but during that time, I have seen glimpses of who you truly are. I have always, much to my great annoyance, admired you.”

“There is no reason to admire me,” Winston stated, turning away from her.

Placing her hand out to still him, she said, “I see how you treat your sisters and mother with kindness. I see how you treat your father’s tenants—people that are far beneath you. And lastly, I have seen the way you treat my family. Me, especially. Despite our differences, you have shown me kindness.”

Winston glanced down at her hand on his sleeve and she quickly withdrew it, silently chiding herself on her brazen behavior. “You flatter me, but I am not a good man,” he said.

“I don’t believe that to be true,” Mattie insisted.

“It is true, and I cannot—I will not—let you say otherwise,” Winston argued. “You don’t know me, Mattie. I only let you see what I want you to see, what I want the world to see.”

Mattie lifted her brow, a hint of a challenge in her eyes. “You are not that good of an actor, my lord.”

Winston huffed. “Why do I bother speaking to you?” he asked. “You are an obstinate young woman who is truly unsufferable.”

“And yet, here we are, speaking nonetheless,” Mattie responded.

With pursed lips, Winston said, “Allow me to escort you home.”

“No. ”

“No?” His tone was incredulous.

Mattie stood her ground, her resolve unwavering. “Not until you tell me what is troubling you,” she insisted.

Winston took a commanding step towards her. “You have no right to dictate my actions,” he said, his voice rising. “I do not have to tell you anything.”

“That is true,” Mattie responded calmly. “We can walk back to my cottage in silence, and you don’t have to tell me one thing. But you would be wrong to do so.”

“And why is that, Miss Bawden?” Winston growled.

Mattie ignored the formality, pressing on despite knowing she was provoking his anger. “Because I believe I can help you.”

“Help me with what?” he retorted.

She had a choice. She could say a response that would pacify him so they would return to the way they were before. Or she could tell him the truth, hoping he was ready to hear it.

Taking a deep breath, Mattie met his gaze and said, “I see the pain in your eyes. It is very familiar to me. You have lost something, and I want to help you get it back.”

“And what do you think I have lost?” Winston’s voice was a mix of skepticism and bitterness.

“Joy,” Mattie simply replied.

Winston reared back, his expression hardening. “You are too presumptuous, Woman. I do not need—or want—your help.”

Mattie stepped forward, her hand trembling slightly as she placed it on his chest. “I know that look of pain because I saw it in myself. It was when my mother died and I thought all was lost. But it wasn’t. Joy can be misplaced, but it never completely disappears. Not in our hearts.”

His eyes flickered with an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher. Anger? Surprise? When Winston did finally speak, his words were much softer. “Miss Bawden… Mattie… I’m sorry for your loss, but you and I are not the same.”

“I respectfully disagree,” Mattie said.

As she went to withdraw her hand, Winston placed his hand over hers, keeping it in place. “I am a broken man,” he admitted softly.

“No one is too broken to be put back together,” Mattie said.

Winston tightened his hold on her hand. “The pieces may fit, but there will always be cracks in it.”

Mattie offered him an encouraging smile. “The cracks are what make us special.”

Winston’s face fell, a look of despair overtaking him. “What if you are wrong?”

“I rarely am, so why would this be any different?” she asked, attempting to infuse humor into this conversation.

His eyes met hers with an intensity she had never seen before. It wasn’t anger, but more of resignation. “What I am about to share with you could alter the way you look at me,” he said. “You may even be disgusted with me.”

“Why are you so certain of such a thing?”

“Because it is the way I look at myself,” Winston responded, his voice thick with emotion. “What I have done…” His voice trailed off.

Mattie held his gaze, knowing that nothing he could tell her would change how she thought of him. “Trust me, Winston.”

Winston closed his eyes tightly but not before she saw them glisten with unshed tears. A stirring in her heart caused her to reach her other hand up and cup his cheek. “Let me in, and I promise never to betray your confidences,” she said.

His eyes opened and he leaned slightly into her hand, as if he needed her touch to strengthen him. “I’m afraid if I let you in, I will never let you go,” he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper .

Mattie felt her heart pound in her chest, and she was fearful that Winston could hear it. “I don’t want to be let go.”

Winston stared at her for a long moment as emotions flickered across his face. “You might not feel that way when I tell you that I am responsible for the deaths of two innocent people.”