Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Winston watched Mattie closely, looking for any signs of disgust. To his surprise, her face softened, and her eyes filled with compassion.

Remaining close, Mattie said, “I know you, Winston, and I trust that there is more to the story. Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”

He closed his eyes, grappling with whether he had the strength to share something so vulnerable, so raw. What if Mattie hated him for what he was about to reveal? Could he handle such a thing? A part of him wanted to flee, but a larger part of him wanted to stay. With Mattie.

Mattie dropped her hands from his person, and he immediately missed the loss of contact. But then, she held his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

Winston opened his eyes and stared at Mattie through unshed tears. “Why are you still here?”

She offered him a weak smile. “There is no other place that I would want to be than right here. With you.”

“You say that now…”

She interrupted him. “I will say that always,” Mattie insisted. “Regardless of what has transpired between us, I care about you, Winston. I always have, and I always will.”

Winston hoped that was true. He truly did. He was starting to care far too much about what Mattie thought of him. It was rather inconvenient. He almost preferred it when he was indifferent towards her.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Winston began, his voice low and unsteady. “It was one of my first cases. Lord Hallsands came to me and told me that one of his maids had stolen a diamond necklace from his wife. During the course of the investigation, we discovered one of their maids, Clara, was in possession of a pair of Lady Hallsands’s earrings.”

Winston winced, recalling the details. “Clara was adamant that she was just cleaning the earrings, but Lord Hallsands demanded she be taken to trial as a thief. The case seemed straightforward enough. However, I didn’t realize that Clara had been a pickpocket when she was young, nor that she had a child.”

He swallowed, unsure if he had the strength to go on.

“Is that all?” Mattie prodded gently.

“No, it gets far worse,” he admitted.

Mattie tightened her hold on his hand. “Then I shall wait until you are ready to share,” she said in an encouraging voice.

Winston could do this. He needed to tell someone about what he had done. And he hoped his trust wasn’t misplaced in Mattie. But heaven help him, he did trust her. That thought both terrified and excited him.

In a voice that was filled with his conflicting emotions, Winston revealed, “We went to trial, and based upon Clara’s past and the gravity of her crime, the judge decided she should be put to death. I tried to argue the punishment did not fit the crime, but the judge wanted to make an example out of Clara.”

Winston hesitated before sharing, “I normally avoid public hangings, but I decided to go. I saw a boy that was no more than ten years old, standing in front of the platform that had been erected for the hangings that day. I later learned that he was Johnny, Clara’s son. He watched his own mother hang before being led away.”

Mattie gasped but she remained quiet, allowing him the freedom to continue. Or not.

Glancing down at their entwined hands, Winston felt strength that he didn’t know he had. He had already come so far. “I… um… felt responsible for Clara’s death, so I was paying Johnny’s aunt ten pounds a month to care for him. I thought it was penance for what I had done.”

“That was most kind of you,” Mattie said.

Winston shook his head, the weight of guilt heavy on his shoulders. “It wasn’t enough. Johnny deserved his mother, not ten pounds a month. But it didn’t matter in the end. Isaac informed me that Johnny died in a workhouse. His aunt had sent him away and was pocketing the money I was sending for Johnny’s care.”

Mattie’s eyes widened. “That is awful.”

“It is, but that isn’t even the worst part,” Winston admitted, his voice cracking on the last word. “After Clara was hung, I saw Lady Hallsands at a soiree and she was wearing the diamond necklace that she claimed had been stolen. When I confronted Lord Hallsands about it, he explained that they found it behind the dressing table. It had fallen in the crack and no one had noticed it until later.”

“Oh, dear,” Mattie murmured.

Winston’s eyes filled with tears. “There was no crime. No reason for Clara to die,” he said. “I was responsible for her and Johnny’s deaths. I wish I had never taken the case.”

He waited for Mattie’s judgment. Her words that would confirm it was indeed his fault and he was an awful person. But none came.

Instead, in the next moment, he found himself enveloped in her arms, drawn into a comforting embrace. It happened so suddenly that he was momentarily stunned. But within moments, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, her head resting on his chest.

Tears streamed down his face as he felt an overwhelming sense of safety in Mattie’s embrace. She didn’t say anything, but her silence spoke volumes. The warmth of her presence, the steady rhythm of her breathing, conveyed more compassion and understanding than any words could.

He tightened his hold on her. In that moment, he realized he wasn’t alone in his pain. Mattie was there, sharing it with him, willing to help him carry the burden.

Slowly, Mattie pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“That you have been forced to carry around these burdens alone, especially since you did nothing wrong.”

Winston dropped his arms and took a step back, his voice rising in frustration. “Nothing wrong? Did you not hear anything that I said?”

“I heard every word.”

“Then you would know it was entirely my fault,” Winston said. The familiar feeling of anger surged within him. Why had he let his guard down around Mattie? She clearly hadn’t been listening to him.

Mattie’s eyes held unwavering compassion. “The justice system failed Clara and her son. Not you.”

“But I was the barrister that argued the case,” Winston countered.

“Did you sentence her to die?” Mattie asked pointedly.

“No, but…”

Mattie spoke over him. “Did you know that the diamond necklace hadn’t truly been stolen?” she pressed.

“No, but… ”

She took a step closer to him, her gaze steady and warm. “The only thing you are guilty of is doing your job.”

Winston ran a hand through his hair. “It is not that simple,” he stated.

“You are right,” Mattie said. “It is very complicated and messy, but my opinion of you has not changed. You are an honorable man who tried to right a wrong.”

“A wrong that I committed!” he shouted.

Mattie’s expression remained resolute. “I do not see it that way. You are the only one in your story that showed an ounce of compassion for a woman and her son.”

Winston scoffed. “I know you mean well, but you are wrong.”

“I think it is you who wants to believe that.”

He looked at her incredulously. “And why is that?”

Mattie held his gaze, her voice gentle. “You do not want Clara’s death to be in vain.”

“But it was in vain!” he exclaimed, tossing up his hands in despair. “She never should have died, and neither should have Johnny.”

Mattie reached for his hand, her touch warm and steady. “I agree. They should not have died, but you are not the villain in this story. You must believe me, because in my heart, I know the type of man you are. And I wish I could take the pain away from you.”

Winston looked at her, truly looked at her, his eyes searching hers for the truth in her words. “You truly believe that?”

“I do,” Mattie said firmly. “And I believe that you can find a way to forgive yourself.”

Winston tightened his hold on her hand. “You are too kind to me, Mattie.”

“It is not kindness,” she replied. “It is the truth. You have to forgive yourself. Only then can you find the joy you have lost.”

Winston sighed deeply, as if a heavy burden had been lifted, albeit slightly. “I don’t know if I can,” he admitted.

Mattie gave him a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to do it alone. I am here with you.”

He stared at her, his heart pounding. The sincerity in her eyes gave him a sliver of hope he had not felt in years. “Why do you care so much about me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Because you are someone worth caring about,” Mattie said.

Winston’s eyes grew moist, and he blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. For the first time in a long while, he felt the possibility of redemption, of finding peace. He gave Mattie’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, for everything,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

As they stood there, hand in hand, Winston realized that he was in trouble. He had made the terrible mistake of letting Mattie in once again. Now he didn’t want to let her ever go. The feelings that he had buried deep down had now resurfaced with a vengeance, and he knew he was helpless against them.

Winston dropped her hand and took a step back. “I… um… should walk you home now,” he said, his voice far too formal for the conversation they had just shared.

A line between Mattie’s brow appeared. “Is something wrong, Winston?”

Yes.

Everything was wrong.

He loved her.

Glancing up at the sky, Winston said, “It is growing late in the day and I do not wish to keep you.”

“I do not mind?—”

“But I do,” Winston responded, gesturing towards the direction of her cottage. “I have work that I need to see to.”

Mattie tipped her head, but not before he saw the look of confusion on her features. He didn’t fault her for such a reaction. He was rather confused himself. He had fought so hard to not love Mattie. But he couldn’t deny it any longer. Loving her was like breathing. And that is what scared him the most.

As Mattie started walking towards her cottage, Winston felt like such a fool. She had given him the greatest gift: the promise of redemption. Yet he thanked her by dismissing her. But what was he supposed to do? It wasn’t as if he could confess his love for her and hope she felt the same way.

No.

He had tried that before and failed. He should just be grateful that Mattie was in his life… as a friend.

Mattie glanced over at him with uncertainty in her eyes. “Did I say or do something to upset you?”

Now Winston felt like a jackanapes. “You did nothing wrong.” There. That was the truth.

“Very well,” Mattie said, turning her gaze straight ahead.

As they stepped onto Mattie’s covered porch, Winston stopped and took a deep breath, the words he needed to say caught in his throat. “Mattie, I…” he began, struggling to find the right words. “I appreciate your kindness today. More than you could ever know.”

Mattie gave him a small, sad smile. “You don’t have to thank me, Winston. I meant every word.”

He nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. “I know you did. And that means the world to me.”

She reached out and touched his sleeve gently. “We all have our burdens to bear. You don’t have to carry yours alone.”

Winston felt his resolve weakening, the urge to pull her into his arms nearly overwhelming. But he couldn’t. Not now.

“Good day, Mattie,” he said, his voice strained.

She let go of his arm, her touch lingering in his memory. “Good day, Winston,” she responded, turning to leave.

“Wait,” he said. “May I call upon you tomorrow?”

Her brow lifted in question.

He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very nervous. “I… um… thought it would be a good time to speak to your father,” he rushed out.

“Yes, that would be wonderful,” she said before she disappeared into the cottage.

Winston’s heart started to ache with unspoken words and unrealized dreams. He had to find a way to live with his feelings, to accept that Mattie could only ever be his friend. Yet deep down, he knew that would never be enough. Not for him.

But for now, he would have to be content with her friendship, even if it meant hiding the depth of his love. It was a small price to pay to keep Mattie in his life, and he would bear it, no matter how much it hurt.

Mattie stepped into the cottage. Her mind was filled with a whirlwind of questions. What had just happened between her and Winston? They had been so vulnerable with one another, and she felt as if they had truly connected. But then, it appeared as if he had pushed her away. Again. Why did he keep doing that?

She couldn’t help but care for him deeply, even though she knew it was not reciprocated in the same way. They were nothing more than friends, and she tried to be content with that. She refused to spend her days pining after a man who would never fully let her in.

As she entered the drawing room, Emma jumped up from the settee to greet her. “Where have you been?”

“I went for a walk with Lord Winston,” Mattie responded, knowing she didn’t owe Emma an explanation .

“You were gone for quite some time,” Emma observed. “What did you two discuss?”

Mattie raised an eyebrow, having no intention of betraying Winston’s confidences to anyone, much less her sister. “Why do you ask?”

“Did Lord Winston happen to mention me?” Emma asked eagerly.

With a perplexed look, Mattie inquired, “Why would Lord Winston mention you?”

Emma shrugged her shoulder. “No particular reason,” she replied.

Mattie turned her attention towards Franny, who was engrossed in a book on the settee. “Would you like to go for a walk with me before supper?”

Franny looked up from her book. “That sounds lovely.”

“What of me?” Emma interjected. “Can I not come along?”

Suppressing a sigh, Mattie replied, “If you wish.”

Emma lifted her chin. “I think I shall,” she declared. “I am dreadfully bored, and Father won’t allow me to go into the village to shop for more ribbons.”

“Do I need to remind you, yet again, that we are in mourning?” Mattie remarked.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t wear pretty things,” Emma retorted as she turned to show off the pink ribbon in her hair.

Mattie rolled her eyes. “You aren’t supposed to wear such bright colors in mourning.”

“Who is going to notice, Mattie?” Emma drawled. “The woodland creatures?”

Rising from her seat, Franny said, “Let me go grab my shawl.”

As Franny walked up the stairs, Mattie gave her sister a disapproving look. “You should at least make an effort to mourn properly.”

“I think this is a good compromise,” Emma argued as she reached back and touched the pink ribbon in her hair.

Mattie saw no point in continuing this argument, so she was relieved when her father stepped into the drawing room. “May I speak with you for a moment in the study, Mattie?”

“Of course, Father,” Mattie responded before she followed him into the study.

Her father closed the door behind him. “I was hoping to keep this conversation private,” he said.

“Is everything all right?”

He went to sit down behind his desk. “Emma has been rather relentless about her debut,” he began. “What if you both debuted together?”

Mattie’s eyes went wide in disbelief. “Surely, you cannot be in earnest?”

Her father raised a hand to silence her objections. “Hear me out,” he responded. “You and Emma are very different, and it is not as if you are competing for the same type of suitors.”

“Pardon?” she asked, confused by his words.

“I am merely saying that you do not have the same lofty aspirations as Emma does and you would be satisfied with a simpler life," her father explained.

Mattie rose from her seat, feeling insulted. “What do you mean, Father?”

Her father leaned forward in his seat, trying to reassure her. “We have discussed this before,” he said. “You have a sensible head on your shoulders and any gentleman would be lucky to have you as his wife.”

“Assuming he is looking for a more mature wife,” Mattie said, repeating her father’s words from a previous conversation.

“That is not a bad thing,” her father insisted, clearly taken aback by her response. “I meant it as a compliment. ”

Mattie’s mouth dropped. “How is that a compliment, Father?”

Her father shook his head, his expression somber. “Emma is much more?—”

“Selfish. Inconsiderate,” Mattie said, interrupting him with a tone of defiance.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he gave her a chiding look. “I was going to say determined,” her father replied. “She doesn’t want to wait until she is eight and ten years to debut.”

Mattie walked over to the window as the weight of her father’s words sank in. “You don’t think I will make as good of a match as Emma, do you?” she asked quietly, her voice tinged with disappointment and hurt.

Her father let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple wearily. “Emma has her cap set on marrying a lord, and now that I am a viscount, it is in the realm of possibilities for her.”

Her shoulders slumped slightly at the confirmation of her fears. “But not for me?” she said, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

“Mattie…”

She cut him off. “You can stop, Father,” she stated. “This could be solved if you would allow Lady Dallington to host me for this upcoming Season. Then Emma can debut next Season without me.”

Her father frowned. “I need you at home to tend to Emma and Franny.”

“Why?”

“I have explained my reasonings,” her father said, his tone growing curt.

Mattie let out a frustrated huff, crossing her arms over her chest. “So you bow to Emma’s incessant complaining, but you won’t yield on what I want? Why is that?”

Her father rose, his voice becoming more forceful. “This conversation is over,” he declared, clearly not wanting to continue the argument. But she was not willing to let it go so easily.

Taking a step towards the desk, Mattie demanded, “I deserve to know why, Father. You owe me that much.”

“Fine,” her father said, tossing up his arms. “I need you! You have been a constant support to me since your mother died and I don’t want you to go away.” He paused, his expression softening. “I don’t know how to handle Emma and her incessant complaining. Or even Franny. What do I know about having a ward?”

Mattie felt some of her anger dissipate at the vulnerable admission from her father. “You want me to put my life on hold to help you?”

“I don’t know what I want,” her father admitted, sinking into his chair. “Now that I have said it out loud it seems very selfish of me.”

She couldn’t help but agree with him as she returned to the seat across from him. “Because it is,” she said. “You need to let me lead my own life. Maybe I wish to marry a lord.”

Her father gave her a knowing look. “Do you?”

Mattie shrugged as an image of Winston came to her mind. But she dismissed it as quickly as it came. “No, I do not care much about being titled.”

“You don’t, but Emma does,” her father said, a hint of resignation in his voice. “She always has.”

In a soft voice, Mattie responded, “All I want is a love match. I want what you and Mother had.”

Her father went quiet at the mention of his late wife. “I miss her every single day,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You look so much like she did at this age; it is almost uncanny.”

“I miss Mother, too,” Mattie said.

“I know you do.”

Mattie held her Father’s gaze for a long moment before summoning up all of her courage and determination once again. “Mother would have wanted me to have a Season without Emma being underfoot,” she said firmly.

Her father’s face fell before he turned his head towards the window. After a long pause, he asked, “The only question is: what am I going to do without you?”

A spark of hope ignited in Mattie’s heart at the uncertainty in her father’s voice, making her believe he was weakening. “I will not be gone forever,” she assured him.

He brought his gaze back to meet hers, studying her intently. “Once the ton sees you for who you truly are, I have no doubt that you will have many suitors vying for your hand.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, I suppose not,” her father replied. “You have my permission to attend the Season with Lady Dallington and her family.”

Mattie clasped her hands together in excitement. “Do you truly mean it?” she asked earnestly.

“I do,” her father said, his eyes growing moist. “But that means you need to start preparing now. I assume you will need a whole new wardrobe and accessories.”

“I will.”

“Then I shall see those funds are available to you,” her father stated. “Will there be anything else?” The lines on his face tightened with emotion as he spoke.

Mattie rose from her seat. “Thank you, Father.”

“I have no doubt that you will make me proud,” her father said.

As she approached the door, she spun back around and hurried over to her father. She threw her arms around him in a warm embrace, saying, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he responded, returning the hug.

She dropped her arms and departed from the room. When she entered the drawing room, Emma was waiting for her with an expectant look on her face. “Well?”

“Well, what?” Mattie asked.

Emma let out a dramatic sigh. “What did you and Father talk about?” she asked, as if it were her right to know.

Mattie decided it was best just to tell her the truth. “Father said Lady Dallington can host me for the Season,” she said, feeling a sense of excitement building within her.

“And what of me?” Emma asked.

A small smile came to Mattie’s lips. “Which means that you can debut next year,” she replied, watching as Emma’s face lit up with joy.

Emma spun around in a circle. “What wonderful news,” she exclaimed. “Now I do not have to worry about outshining you.”

Mattie chose to ignore Emma’s remark and turned her attention towards Franny. “Shall we go for that walk now?”

“Yes, please,” Franny said.

Just as she uttered her words, Mrs. Watson’s voice came from the kitchen. “Do not dally for too long because supper is almost ready.”

“Maybe we should go on our walk after dinner?” Mattie suggested. “That way we will have more time.”

Franny bobbed her head in agreement. “That is probably for the best.”

Emma walked over to the settee and gracefully lowered herself onto it. “I wonder what we are having for dinner.”

“Mutton!” Mrs. Watson’s voice echoed through the cottage.

Mattie smiled. “I will miss this cottage when we are at Darlington Abbey,” she said wistfully.

“Why?” Emma asked, genuinely puzzled.

“This is where we both grew up,” Mattie replied. “Won’t you at least miss a small part of it?”

Emma considered her words for a moment before answering with a dismissive shrug. “No, I won’t miss it. ”

Mattie wondered what it would take to get through to her sister, because she was clearly failing to do so.

Franny spoke up. “I will miss this cottage,” she said. “On the rare occasions we came to visit, it was always filled with love and warmth.”

Mrs. Watson stepped into the room, wiping her hands on the apron that hung around her neck. “Shall we eat?” she asked cheerfully.

“Yes!” Emma exclaimed, rising.

“Before we adjourn to the table, I wanted to let Mattie know that I cut out the fabric of the gown you suggested,” Mrs. Watson said. “I think it will look splendid as a lining in your bonnet.”

Emma turned towards Mattie. “What fabric?”

“We brought some of Mother’s old dresses down from the attic and we are trying to find a way to reuse the fabric,” Mattie explained. “Would you care for us to save you some?”

“No, I shall buy new bonnets when we arrive in London,” Emma replied. “There is no reason to keep my old ones.”

“I thought it would be nice to use some of Mother’s fabric as a way to remember her,” Mattie said.

Emma did not look impressed by that idea. “But I doubt Mother’s old fabric is even fashionable anymore.”

As Mattie went to respond, Emma cut her off abruptly. “Can we go eat now? I am famished, and I do not care about such things.”

“Very well,” Mattie said. “Let us eat.”