Chapter 14

"William," Marina began softly with worry. "There's something I must discuss with you."

The weariness weighed heavily on William as he'd just returned home, each step a burden as he made his way to his study. Marina was already in his study when he reached it, her usually cheerful countenance marred by a furrowed brow and troubled eyes.

"What is it, Marina?" he inquired as he took a seat behind his desk. "Can it not wait?"

"It's about Lady Esther," she replied hesitantly. "I couldn't help but notice… there seemed to be some tension between the two of you earlier. The way she got in the carriage that evening without bidding you a farewell was surprising."

"There was a slight issue," he admitted heavily with regret. "But it's nothing we cannot resolve, I'm sure. Just a passing disagreement. We simply need some time for clarity's sake."

Marina regarded him with a mix of sympathy and understanding.

"Are you sure?" she pressed gently. "It seemed… more than just a passing disagreement."

She looked nervous, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her gown. William raised an eyebrow while observing her closely, a silent question in his gaze.

"What is it, Marina?" he prompted gently. "Is there anything else?"

"I… I think Lady Esther is likable," she stated sadly. "Despite the rumors and everything, I believe she's a good match for you."

William was taken aback by her words, and for some reason, it made him feel hopeful too.

"I just want you to be happy, William. And if Lady Esther can bring you that happiness, then I think we should support you."

"Thank you, Marina," he said sincerely. "Your support means a lot to me, especially now."

"In that case, I believe there's more you should know," she continued nervously. "I don't mean to create any discord, but I've been thinking about my values, and it's only right to reveal this. Mother invited Lady Esther behind your back."

"What?" he asked in confusion.

Marina nodded apologetically. "I overheard them talking earlier," she admitted with worry, "and, you know, Lady Esther really stood her ground—not just for herself, but also for you. It was surprising, but I'm scared of what it could make Mother do to her. She already dislikes Lady Seymour so much."

William's fists clenched as he processed what he just heard.

"What exactly did you hear?" he demanded. "Tell me everything."

And so Marina did, revealing their Mother's issues with Esther becoming a duchess and the complications surrounding William's business.

"While I agree Mother's concerns are valid regarding our livelihood, I don't think it's entirely true that Esther's at fault," Marina insisted. "I've been thinking about what you told us regarding idle gossip, and I've noticed something strange."

"Go on."

"None of those that talk are Esther's friends," she said curiously. "William, you'd think someone in the ton would've been close to Esther at some point in their lives, but that's not the case. I overheard from one of the debutantes' older sisters that anyone that Esther was close with is no longer in London, so there really is no one to vouch for her character."

William wasn't sure why tracking down Esther's close friends never occurred to him, but he was grateful that Marina had given him the idea.

"You reckon the Viscountess Lindfield knows who Esther's friends were?" he asked.

Marina nodded. "I'm sure of it. They're close in age and perhaps ran in the same circles."

"I appreciate your telling me all this, Marina," William said with a hint of hope. "This complicates things with Mother further, so I must speak to her. My concern is that she might reprimand you heavily for telling me, though."

Marina crossed her arms. "How bad was the argument between you and Lady Esther? Surely she would've told you about the visit, given that you both are betrothed."

"Ah… well…" William trailed off, then sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "She's still a very reserved woman who doesn't like relying on other people. Years of living this way have created hard habits to break."

With a small nod, Marina sighed and fell into contemplation. "I wish I could tell her that she has people on her side. I feel… terrible for judging her so harshly without evidence. My past behavior is a suffocating thing to live with."

William stood up and reached out for his sister's shoulders, looking down at her with prideful eyes. "Better late than never, Marina. I'm glad you're willing to learn and grow. It's what being a Barton is all about."

Looking touched, Marina wrapped her arms around her brother, and he held her tightly.

"Brother," she said worriedly, "I feel like I've woken up from a strange dream. I think in ways I never thought before. I question everything now, so… how will I be all right with marrying a man from a society I no longer accept?"

William let out a deep sigh of worry. Her concern was valid, and he now knew that the list of respectable suitors would have to be narrowed down greatly.

"I don't know, Sister," he said. "And now I'm starting to wonder if this is why everyone keeps Esther at arm's length."

"She gives women ideas," Marina added. "Wakes them up. Masks fall, and the stage becomes too visible to ignore."

William snorted softly. "My, what a dramatic way to put it."

Marina smacked him lightly on the back but chuckled.

"Listen," William continued as he pulled away from her and held her by the arms. "You can trust me to find you someone who will treat you well, all right? Even if it means finding someone outside of London. All I need is for you to keep an open mind."

Marina nodded obediently. "I trust you."

"Good. Now, I must confront Mother. Hide yourself away for a few days, yes?"

With that, William walked out of his study. His footsteps echoed softly in the corridor as he made his way to his mother's chambers, his mind abuzz with a mix of frustration and determination. With each step, he mentally prepared himself for the confrontation that awaited him.

As he reached the door to his mother's chambers, William paused briefly to collect himself before knocking firmly. He did not want to explode in anger immediately upon seeing her face, though he feared he no longer trusted his mouth when it came to matters regarding Esther's honor.

"Come in," came her muffled voice through the door. He pushed it open to find his mother before the vanity, delicately touching her face in an attempt to smooth out wrinkles that came naturally with age.

Though he'd always found his mother beautiful and graceful, he was met with the sudden realization that he couldn't recognize the woman he was looking at. There was a surreal feeling that accompanied the sight of her, like she was an imposter sent to test his limits.

"You're home late," she said absently. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

William's expression remained impassive as he stepped into the room, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her composed facade.

"You know why I'm here," he hissed.

"I was wondering when it would come to this," she said. "Though, it's surprising that Esther informed you of it so soon. Did you go see her, perhaps?"

William didn't answer to protect his sister, but the tick in his jaw almost made him. He wanted his mother to know that she was losing support in the household, but he remained careful of his tongue.

"What I do shouldn't matter in the face of your questionable behavior," he almost growled. "Why would you put Esther in such a position? How dare you lure her into defenselessly talking to you? Do you have no shame?"

The Dowager Duchess scoffed. "Don't talk about shame with me, when I've seen you bring the very epitome of it into our lives without a real thought spared."

"It's not for you to decide!"

"I am the Dowager Duchess, William," she said calmly with a stern air about her as she rose from the seat before the vanity, glaring at him through the mirror. "Your father didn't marry me out of responsibility. He did so because he wished for me to be second in command, even if you're the Duke. I have a right to decide who will fill my shoes."

"Oh, you and your titles," William spat out in a low voice. "You and your image in Society. Do you have nothing else to live for?!"

"I was raised for this," she said sharply and turned to face him directly. Even from far across the room, her gaze burned into his. "I wasn't given much of a choice in that matter either. Forgive me for wanting to preserve the only thing that I was taught to care about, my son."

"None of that should hold any importance against the needs and desires of the children you chose to bring into this world," William retorted. "How dare you call yourself my mother when you go against the very principle of motherhood."

The shock in Dorothea's eyes brought a sick satisfaction to William, but it was at that moment that he wondered just where it all went wrong. Never before had the two of them been embroiled in a conflict like this. He'd been an obedient boy his entire life, and now it was all suddenly falling apart.

He watched the whites of his mother's eyes go red as she swiftly turned away to look down at her pearls on the vanity.

"Leave my room at once," she murmured. "Do not speak to me, nor address me as anything other than a stranger until you apologize."

"If a stranger is what you are, then I hope you don't mind how I exert my authority on you in that regard," he announced before walking away, slamming the door shut.

He immediately felt guilty, but it wasn't that he did it on purpose. It was simply that he'd never felt a rage so strong before, and he had no inkling of how to manage it. The fire was consuming him, and he felt compelled to release it in ways too violent for his own good.

Pull yourself together. This is unlike you.

He descended the grand staircase with deliberate steps, each footfall echoing loudly in the cavernous hall. As he reached the middle of the staircase, his gaze inevitably drifted upwards to the towering portrait that adorned the wall in an ornate gold frame—a stern likeness of his late father, Harold Barton. The patriarch's stoic countenance loomed over him, an imposing presence that seemed to scrutinize his prior behavior.

But William didn't know how his father would've reacted in this situation. The late Duke had passed his reserved nature on to his only son, which made them both very unpredictable.

A heavy sigh escaped William's lips, carrying with it the weight of his inner turmoil. His heart was burdened with an ache that transcended mere physical pain.

"Am I doing fine, Father?" he whispered, his voice barely audible in the vast expanse of the hall. "This is what you wanted, right? For me to marry my sisters off. To carry your legacy…"

His words hung in the air, mingling with the hushed whispers of the past. In the silence that followed, William's troubled gaze remained fixed on the portrait, searching for answers that eluded him. The painted eyes of his father offered no solace, no reassurance—only silence that forced him to draw his own path.

"Why is everything so difficult now?" he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

He was doing just fine before he met Esther.

With a heavy heart, William entertained the notion of apologizing to Esther for the distress caused by his mother's behavior. Yet, as his gaze once more found its way to the stern visage of his father, a wave of resolve washed over him.

He remembered the solemn vow he had made to his father—to prioritize the well-being and happiness of his family above all else, even his own desires. It was a promise he had sworn to uphold, a duty he could not forsake. Yet he'd broken it only moments before when he said what he said to his mother, which seemed justified and out of necessity in the heat of the moment.

Now, he wasn't so sure.

With determined steps, William returned to his study, his mind now set on a different course of action. He seated himself at his desk and retrieved a quill and parchment. He began to write almost immediately, the words flowing from his mind to the page with practiced precision.

In the quiet solitude of his study, illuminated only by the soft glow of candlelight, he poured his thoughts out, hoping to resolve what spoken words had been unable to resolve thus far. Everything in his mind was caving in, and he couldn't seem to compartmentalize it all within his mind alone.

And when he was done, he decided on what needed to be done to bring his life back on the path he'd promised himself to stay on.

On another parchment, he penned his words to Esther, finding solace in the knowledge that despite the challenges that lay ahead, he would honor his father's legacy and uphold the values instilled in him from a young age.

For him, there could be no greater purpose than fulfilling his duty to his family, even if it meant sacrificing his happiness in the process.

* * *

As Esther's eyes skimmed over the lines of William's letter, each word seemed to stab itself into her heart with unforgiving clarity. The weight of his words bore down on her, pressing against her chest like an unyielding burden.

We shall not meet until the ball where we break our engagement. I have to attend to several business matters.

The simplicity of the statement belied its profound impact, leaving Esther feeling as though the very ground beneath her was crumbling. It was a decree delivered with finality, sealing the inevitable fate that could not be challenged.

As she tucked the letter away, she couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at her from within

Despite her efforts to remain composed, tears threatened to spill from her eyes, their silent presence a testament to the depth of her despair. At that moment, she couldn't help but wonder if his momentary softness had been nothing more than a fleeting illusion, destined to crumble beneath the weight of their circumstances.

With a heavy heart, she realized that their journey together had reached its agreed end, leaving nothing but memories in its wake.

"What is it, dear? Is everything all right?" her mother asked, her tone laced with worry.

Esther had forgotten that she was still in the parlor and that the maid who'd delivered the letter stood by curiously while her mother sat beside her. She found herself unable to respond, her throat constricted by the sadness of unspoken words.

She glanced up briefly, meeting their concerned gazes before her eyes fell once more to the letter in her hands.

Her father leaned forward, his voice gentle yet filled with concern. "Is that from the Duke of Harcourt, Esther? What does it say?"

The letter remained clasped tightly in her grasp, its presence a tangible reminder of the unraveling of their ruse. With each passing moment, the words pressed down upon her, suffocating her in a sea of shattered hopes.

"I…" Esther's voice quivered.

Her parents exchanged worried glances before turning their attention back to her.

"What does he say, dear?" her mother prompted gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"He…" Esther trailed off, unable to voice the painful truth within the page.

In the end, all she could do was offer a faint shake of her head, her voice lost in the depths of her despair. She crumpled the letter in her hand and stood up, muttering about needing some privacy.

Adam appeared before her immediately to hold her by the shoulders.

"You don't have to face this alone," he said as if having extracted the truth from her mind. "Lean on us, Esther. It's all right."

She appreciated his protective instincts, but she knew that this battle was one she had to face alone.

"Is the Duke being difficult, Esther?" he inquired. "I can speak with him if need be."

Esther forced a smile, though it felt brittle on her lips, and shook her head gently. "No, Adam, it's not necessary," she replied wearily. "I'll… I'll handle it."

Her brother regarded her with a searching gaze, but she offered him no further explanation, instead excusing herself with a murmured apology and retreating to the solitude of her room.

As she closed the door behind her, shutting out the worried whispers of her family, Esther sank onto the edge of her bed, the weight of William's letter heavy in her hands. Her fingers trembled so much that she dropped the ball of parchment by her feet.

And then she sobbed, softly and quietly, though the agony was so unbearable that she wanted to scream. Her body rattled with the ache she contained within herself, not wanting to be loud, lest her parents barge in and disrupt her moment of privacy to lament the loss that was to come.

A soft knock roused her from the depths of her despair. She blinked away her tears, momentarily disoriented as she tried to get her bearings. Pushing herself off the floor, she smoothed the wrinkles in her skirts and wiped away the tears on her face.

"Come in," she said hoarsely.

The door creaked open, revealing Harriet's gentle countenance, framed by tendrils of her chestnut hair. Esther couldn't even manage a small smile.

Harriet stepped into the room cautiously, vulnerable concern evident on her face. "Adam was worried about you. I thought… I thought perhaps you might need someone to talk to."

Esther could say nothing with the bile in her throat, and Harriet settled on the chair opposite the bed. Her sister-in-law's eyes never wavered off her.

"Do you need someone?" Harriet asked in almost a whisper, but the young woman shook her head. "Esther. Please. Let us help you."

Esther's head shook slightly, a silent plea for solitude in the midst of her tumultuous emotions. Still, Harriet didn't relent, which was strange because she normally would've.

"I don't mean to intrude in any way, but this is getting worrying now," Harriet said firmly. "I've always, always advocated for you to be left to your own devices, but I fear that this might be a situation where it's becoming destructive. Esther, don't lock yourself away any longer, please."

Esther didn't know where to begin, but seeing her sister-in-law begging like that made her wonder if she'd been self-sabotaging without realizing it. She'd been so shaken ever since her meeting with Dorothea, and then seeing Richard with her rattled her even more. The letter from William didn't help either.

She was so sick and tired of being alone in her burdens.

"I… saw him at the Harcourt estate," she said softly.

Harriet frowned. "Who?"

"Him, Harriet. He was at the Duke's estate yesterday. And now I got this letter, and it's all just… it's so?—"

Esther broke down, and Harriet rushed to wrap her in her embrace as she led the poor girl to the bed to sit. In the warm and protective bubble of Harriet's arm, Esther finally began to wail without restraint, her tears staining the shoulder she cried on. Her body shook with each cry and heave, and Harriet only held her tighter each time as she rubbed her back.

"I'm here, Esther," she said softly. "You can cry it all out.

"He… could have said something to William." Esther coughed. "He might have told him that I am a fallen woman with no grace…"

"Esther, please calm down. You are thinking too much," Harriet insisted.

"But—"

"I assure you His Grace would not be the kind of man who would believe in anything without evidence," Harriet reassured her in a firm tone. "Do not give in to your anxieties. Let us sleep early tonight, and then we'll have a day to ourselves where we will rid ourselves of our responsibilities. In the afternoon, we should go pick out a new gown for Lord Malton's party."

Esther's smile faltered as she remembered.

Yes… Lord Malton's party.