Chapter 22

CHAPTER22

It was not an easy story to tell, and not one that Adam had ever told anyone beyond the walls of Stapleton Court, other than Harry. But it was not Adam’s own punishments and peculiar tortures that pained him the most. It was the suffering his mother had endured that would always sting more deeply.

“I used to blame her for not protecting me,” he explained, taking bites of his sandwich as he trudged through his past. Each bite gave him enough pause to gather himself, so he could continue on to the next atrocity without his voice wavering. “Foolish, really. What could she have done against a man like him? He was taller and broader than I am now, and no one would have dared to help my mother if she had wanted to fight back or protect me.

“But I was just a child, and I thought that mothers were invincible,” he continued with a tight laugh. “I thought she was choosing not to help me when he dragged me away and beat me black and blue for the smallest transgression. That was why I ran away when I was three and ten. I looked older, or the militia did not care that I was younger—I do not know which.”

“That was when you went to war?” Nancy’s voice hitched as she reached for a napkin and dabbed her eye.

Adam nodded. “I dressed in clothes I had stolen from the stableboy, I spoke in the accent of the village boys, and I did exceedingly well in the tests that the captains set for me when I asked to be sent away to fight. I claimed that my father—a poacher—taught me to shoot, and I cannot remember the tale I conjured to explain my excellent horsemanship. I think I told them I rescued a foal from the river one winter and raised it myself.” He chuckled at the memory. “By the end of that week, I was on my way to the Continent to fight.”

“How were you found?” Nancy chewed slowly on the raspberries and cheese, transfixed by the story. “Your mother must have been beside herself with worry when you vanished, though I cannot say I blame you for fleeing. I wish she had fled with you, too.”

Adam swallowed, almost choking on his mouthful of sandwich. “I would have taken her with me had I known that she was not choosing to let my father beat me. He was… an expert in discretion, my father, and in all those thirteen years, I had no notion that he was beating my mother, too.” He cleared his throat. “She was… so impossibly strong, in so many ways. You would never have known she was in pain throughout my childhood. I did not know, and I must live with that.”

“I was not chastising you for not helping her,” Nancy said softly, resting her hand on his forearm. “Come, tell me the rest.”

He sighed. “A friend of my father’s spotted me. He was a Brigadier General at the time, and I had done my best to avoid him when I knew I was being assigned to one of his cavalry regiments. I can only assume that he sent word to my father, likely to ask why his son had become a Cornet in the British Cavalry.” He picked up a strawberry and passed it to her. “This friend did not realize I was not of age, I do not think, but anyone who knew my father would know that he would not send his son to war as a mere Cornet.”

“A Cornet?”

“The lowest rank you can be in the cavalry,” Adam explained. “If I had chosen to be a military man, my father would have blackmailed and manipulated every high-ranking officer he knew to ensure a high position for me. A matter of honor, you see, not for me but for him.”

Nancy nodded in understanding, biting into a raspberry. And as a trickle of juice escaped her mouth, Adam could not help but brush it away, stroking his thumb across the plump flesh of her lips. A softness to balance the sharpness of the tale.

“The Brigadier General sent me home,” Adam went on, licking the juice from his thumb. “I was escorted the entire way to the ship and collected on the other side by acquaintances of my father who had been handsomely paid to return me to this manor. I have often wondered if I should have jumped into the sea and taken my chances with the swim to shore, but here I am.”

Nancy clasped her hands together. “And your father… he hurt you when you returned?”

“No, he was wilier than that.” Adam took a shaky breath. “He hurt her. He let me know that he had been hurting her all along. Indeed, he made it clear that if I disobeyed or upset him or embarrassed him or so much as looked at him in a way he did not like, she would suffer for it.” He let out a breath, forcing it into a stiff laugh. “Goodness, I feel disgustingly sober now.”

Nancy reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I am so very sorry, Adam.”

“There is no need to be sorry,” he told her. “The bastard is gone, and no one mourned him. And though my mother has been unwell since his death, she has known peace in his absence. I only wish that I had been a better son these past ten years. I tried to be, but being in this house for too long does peculiar things to me. I become melancholy, and I have vowed never to be gloomy again, so I leave as soon as I can, and… I leave her behind.”

Nancy’s breath caught in her throat. “She does not reside in London with you? Ever?”

“She cannot abide London,” Adam replied, snorting. “Hates it with a vengeance. It is not good for her health either.”

“Do you know what caused her sickness? Is there a physician who might help?”

Adam shook his head. “I have tried every physician in the country and beyond, but none of them can give me an answer. A few have accused her of pretending, but I do not believe that.” He shrugged. “In truth, I think he is still sapping her of her strength from beyond the grave, but the physicians would likely lock me up and throw away the key if I were to admit that to them.”

“It sounds reasonable to me,” Nancy protested.

He arched an eyebrow. “It does?”

“I have seen how women can become small and how they can… disappear almost, because of the actions of a man,” Nancy explained. “My own mother had become a shell of herself until my sister’s marriage. She had taken to spending days alone in her bedchamber, refusing to eat, refusing company. And she was poorly more often, though there seemed to be no obvious cause.”

Adam rubbed his chin, intrigued. “And she is better now?”

“Oh, immeasurably so. Of course, she did not suffer as your mother did, so perhaps the effects did not linger as long,” Nancy hastened to say. “My sister’s marriage and the birth of my nephew seemed to give Mama the strength that she had been missing. It also helped that my sister told my father that his behavior had to cease, or he would not see any grandchildren that were to come. But my sister’s strength bolstered our mother’s. I do not know if that makes sense, but that is what I witnessed.”

Adam nodded. “That makes a great deal of sense. Indeed, that is what I hoped would happen after my father died, but… she simply has not improved, only worsened.” He paused, dusting the crumbs off his hands. “Anyway, let us not speak anymore of bad tidings and bad memories. You are much improved, and that is something to celebrate.”

“You are not going to begin imbibing again, are you?” Nancy laughed softly, the sound a balm to his raw heart.

“Would you care to partake? We have some excellent wine that I think you might like.”

Nancy seemed to hesitate, but as she lightly squeezed his hand again, she said, “Very well. One small glass. My sister has always insisted that wine is medicinal, and I have no reason to doubt her.”

“Splendid!”

Adam hopped off the workbench and sprinted to one of the cupboards by the rear door, which looked innocuous enough, but he knew that was where the cook kept the best wines. Mainly so he could not steal them before she could serve them with dinner.

Pouring out two glasses, he went to the rear door and whistled for Nancy. “Let us drink them outside,” he urged, holding both glasses easily in one hand as he turned the key in the keyhole. “You have not yet seen any of the gardens, and the one right outside this door happens to be my favorite.”

“Is it not too cold?” Nancy slipped down off the stool, pausing.

“If you begin to shiver, I shall warm you,” he promised, beckoning her to follow him. “Bring that lantern with you!”

Glancing back at the main entrance to the kitchens, Nancy seemed to make her decision and, with a breath, followed him out into the darkness, clinging tightly to the lantern.