Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

" T ea?"

Jasper shook his head.

"Some breakfast, perhaps?" Reginald offered.

Jasper said nothing. His stomach roiled at the thought of eating something.

"You must eat something," Reginald pressed, letting out an irate sigh. "You took nothing for dinner when you arrived here last night, and you have had nothing this morning. You will waste away if you keep this up."

"I am fine, uncle." Jasper passed a hand over his face.

"That is obviously untrue."

Of course it was. But Jasper was not prepared to get into the matter. He could hardly make sense of it himself.

He felt almost ill. There was only one time in recent memory when he recalled feeling as he did now, and that was when he had been terribly sick just after his return home from college. It had been an unrelenting illness that had Jasper bedridden and unable to keep down food for nearly a week and a half.

Jasper recalled feeling empty on a deep, concerning level. Now, he felt just the same way. Though the cause of his illness was entirely different.

Putting his head in his hands, Jasper tried to push the memory of Arabella from his mind. But he kept seeing her like that, sprawled out on the ground before him, unconscious.

It had nearly killed him when he thought that she was injured. When he thought that she was…

He could not even think it.

All he could think now was that he had made a mistake. Jasper had fallen in love with his wife, and it had been the biggest mistake he could have ever made.

It was his fault.

Looking down, Jasper spread his fingers, turning his hands palm up so that he could stare down at them as he had done so many times before. These hands were cursed. How could they not be, after all the pain and suffering they had born witness to? After the loved ones who had suffered at his side.

He could not return to Arabella. That was certain.

Jasper had let her into his heart – let her in as he had never allowed anyone before – and now they were both paying for it. If something happened to her again, it would kill him.

"Are you going to continue sitting there in silence, or are you going to tell me what on earth is going on?" Reginald stood in the center of the drawing room, his arms folded across his chest as he stared down at his nephew.

Jasper shifted in his seat, hanging his head. "I cannot."

"What do you mean ‘you cannot'? Or is it rather that you will not?"

"I need some time," Jasper murmured. "That is all. I…simply need some time away."

When he glanced up, Jasper could see that his uncle was far from convince. Nor was he likely to give the subject up. Narrowing his eyes, Reginald studied Jasper closely. "What is it that you are giving up? Has a matter of business gone awry? A problem with your staff? Has the duchess done something –"

"I do not wish to speak about it!" Jasper barked, his temper getting the better of him. Then, groaning, he sighed. "Please, uncle. I simply ask that you allow me to stay here for a little while."

Reginald was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, he took a seat beside Jasper. In the corner of his eye, Jasper thought he saw Reginald reach out as if to place a hand on Jasper's shoulder. But, before he made contact, Reginald's hand fell back down onto his knee. He cleared his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed.

When he next spoke, his voice was a little quieter. Almost kind. But not quite. "I am sorry to see you this way, Jasper. If you could tell me something about what is troubling you then I might be able to help."

Reginald's tone still held a hint of annoyance, but Jasper told himself that his uncle had every right to be irritated. The duke had offered him no explanation as to why he needed to be suddenly housed on his uncle's estate. It was more than an inconvenience for the aging bachelor who preferred to live in solitude, rising, sleeping, and eating whenever he saw fit.

Sighing, Jasper was reminded of Arabella and her family. In what little he had seen of them – and from what Arabella had told him about them – they trusted one another with almost every aspect of their lives. They cared for one another and, so, wished to know the truth about each other's struggles, hoping to help when and where they could.

Jasper had been lonely most of his life, but he had not been entirely alone. Reginald had been cold and distant throughout the duke's childhood. But here, finally, was a glimmer of the paternal nature that Jasper had so longed to see.

Here, perhaps, was Jasper's chance to trust his uncle. To take up the olive branch that was being offered to him.

"Does this have anything to do with the duchess?" Reginald asked.

Jasper could feel his eyes upon him. With a sigh, he nodded.

Grunting, Reginald balled up a fist and brought it down hard on his right thigh. When Jasper glanced up at him in surprise, Reginald shook his head. Then, standing, Reginald muttered something that Jasper did not quite catch.

Before the duke could ask his uncle to repeat it, however, Reginald strode angrily from the room.

Watching him go, Jasper's eyes narrowed in concern. He had not expected his uncle to become so agitated. But, if he was being honest, he should have been able to predict such a reaction. Reginald had never approved of Jasper's bride. Now, here was proof that Arabella had somehow failed in her wifely duties.

Sighing, Jasper hung his head. Though Reginald had the wrong idea about the matter, he knew he could at least trust the man to keep silent about it. Propriety was the chiefmost of Reginald's values. What was said in confidence to him would be kept so.

Jasper supposed he did feel a little better for having admitted to someone a little about what was going on. Perhaps Arabella's family did have the right idea – they found support and comfort in relying upon one another.

Not that Jasper would ever have that chance with them.

Angry and confused, Jasper slammed a fist into the arm of his chair. What a mess he had made of things. What an utterly repugnant mess.

She could not tell her parents.

That was what Arabella kept thinking to herself, over and over. What would they say when they heard that Jasper had all but disappeared entirely? When they found out that he had left without a word as to where he was going or how long he might be gone?

Of course they would not blame her. They were far too supportive to do that. But Arabella could not face the shame of having to tell them that, somehow, she had driven her husband away. For she blamed herself. But what she had done wrong, she still did not know.

Over and over in the days of Jasper's absence, Arabella relived that day. She remembered how they'd laughed, holding on to one another as they made their way to the stables, preparing for an afternoon's ride on the estate. She remembered the rush of wind in her ears. And she remembered the look of utter horror on Jasper's face as he had carried her into the manor.

He had kept staring at his hands. Staring at them as if they had been infected by something. As if Arabella had infected him.

It made her feel dirty every time she thought about it. And then her heart broke again, remembering how Jasper had pulled away from her touch as if nothing had changed between them – as if her touch pained him like everyone else's.

"Ma'am, would you like something else?" asked a quiet, hopeful voice.

Pulled from her thoughts, Arabella glanced up to see her maid standing before her, leaning slightly over the dining table as he gestured to Arabella's still untouched lunch.

Surprised to see her there, Arabella glanced over the maid's shoulder. There, she found both Mr. Rogers and the cook watching her with a mixture of fear and apprehension.

All at once, Arabella understood. Her maid had been summoned in an attempt to reach the duchess. It had been days since Arabella had eaten anything. Since Jasper had left, she had merely pushed the food around on her plate, letting it grow cold.

Now, poor Margaret had been called out as a last-ditch effort to entreat the duchess to eat something.

Though Arabella appreciated the effort, she could not give the servants what they wanted. "No, thank you," she told Margaret.

"Maybe you would like me to put your food back on the heat? Warm it up a little?" asked the cook, raising her voice as she called from the corner of the room.

Arabella shook her head. "No, thank you. But I am grateful for the offer. If any of you have the stomach, please see that my meal does not go to waste. But I am afraid I cannot eat at present."

Standing, Arabella pushed away from the table. As she stood, however, her head began to spin. Clutching at the table, she attempted to steady herself as Margaret's small hands went around her forearm.

"Ma'am?" the young maid gasped. "Are you all right?"

Dizzy, and a little embarrassed that she had just proved their concerns for her valid, Arabella nodded. "Quite all right. I just – I only need a moment. I stood up too quickly."

Carefully, Margaret helped Arabella into the hall and toward the drawing room. Once inside, Arabella sank onto the settee and took a shaky breath.

Margaret was about to say something when Mr. Rogers followed them in. "There is someone here to see you," he informed Arabella, regarding her with some hesitation.

Instantly, Arabella's senses were on high alert. "Has the duke returned?"

The butler shook his head sadly. "It is Lord Barrington, Ma'am."

Arabella bit her lip as she contemplated this. Normally, Reginald was the last man she wished to see. But he might have news of Jasper.

"Show him in, please," she told Mr. Rogers.

"Are you – are you quite well enough?" he asked cautiously.

Nodding, Arabella managed a small smile. "I am. Thank you for your concern."

Still looking unsure, the butler turned away. After a moment, Margaret, still regarding Arabella with pity, also took her leave.

"Lord Barrington, Your Grace," the butler announced, showing Reginald into the drawing room.

Arabella made to stand but, her dizziness hitting her once more, she was quickly forced back into her seat. "Forgive me," she murmured, her cheeks growing hot. "I am a little unwell today."

At this, Reginald all but scoffed. Astonished, Arabella stared up at him, wide eyed. "Do you wish to say something, Sir?" she asked, fighting to keep the outrage from her tone.

The man raised an eyebrow at her, staring her down for a moment before he sighed and glanced around the room. "I simply find it interesting, Duchess, that you should feel yourself deserving of pity in this particular situation."

Arabella grasped the end of the settee, leaning forward. "You know something of His Grace? Where is he? Is he all right?"

"Please, do not insult me by pretending that you are concerned for his well-being," scoffed Reginald. "You merely wish to know what will happen next. And I shall tell you just that."

Turning to look at her once more, Arabella felt as if Reginald were trying to set her alight with his blazing stare. "I had every doubt that you would fail to be a proper wife to my nephew. I counseled him against the marriage. And it would seem that now, finally – though far too late – he has come to the same conclusion."

Arabella sucked in a breath. "What do you -?"

"His Grace is staying on my estate," Reginald informed her, cutting her off. Arabella's fingers dug into the settee as he continued. "And he shall remain there until the matter of his wife is settled. Therefore, lest this dreary matter be strung out any longer, I suggest you do as I say."

Reginald started toward the window, his hands behind his back. "You will be sent away. Many women who fail to live up to their duties as wives are expected to do so. Particularly those who cannot fulfil their duties to the aristocracy. They were never meant to hold such high positions and therefore fall short of expectations."

Gritting her teeth, Arabella remained silent. She had no doubt that, if she had tried to speak, Reginald would have cut her off again.

"You will leave so that the duke may return to his estate. In name alone will you be his wife. He will manage without you, and you will no longer be a hinderance to him."

Turning back to her, Reginald cast a withering, disparaging look over her from head to toe. "You got what you wanted, Duchess. You have married a duke. Now it is time for you to step aside and allow your husband to become the man he was meant to be. The man he can be once he is free of you."

Tears sprang to Arabella's eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was to cry in front of this horrid man, but she struggled to keep the tears at bay.

She wanted to call Reginald a liar. She wanted to tell him that Jasper would never ask such a thing of her, that he would never send her away.

But, in a way, he already had. He had been the one to leave, but it was Jasper who had put distance between them. It was the duke who had left without any sign of returning.

And the cause of his departure was as clear as day: Arabella.

Whatever had happened the day of the accident, Arabella had hurt Jasper. Perhaps, worst of all, his condition had returned. She, just like all the others, would be costly to touch. Painful. She was no different to him than all the rest.

And, if she stayed, she would end up hurting him.

"I shall give you the day to make your departure," Reginald informed her coldly, already turning toward the door. "If you are still here when the duke returns, I will be forced to take drastic measures to remove you."

Arabella bit back her tears as she stood, swaying slightly, but desperate to have her final say. "Whatever you think of me, you can trust that I will do nothing to hurt His Grace or his reputation."

Reginald paused in the door. He cast a glance back at her, his face as stony as ever. "That remains to be seen."

Arabella held her ground until Reginald was out of the room. Then, the moment he vanished from view, she fell to the ground. Her legs simply gave way.

Tears coursed down her cheeks as she tried to make sense of all that had just happened. The duke was sending her away? Was she truly never to see him again?

No. She would not. Whatever glimmer of love had existed between them was gone, vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

There was nothing for her here now. She was not wanted.

The realization was like a dagger to the heart. But, somehow, Arabella forced herself onto her feet. She could not stay here. She would not allow Reginald to return and find her making a fool of herself, clinging desperately to the life that had been taken from her. She would not allow him the satisfaction of throwing her from the manor.

Tears nearly blinding her, Arabella grasped the banister and half climbed, half pulled herself up the stairs. Her legs shook but she forced one foot up after the other. At the landing, she spotted Margaret hurrying from one of the bedrooms. At the sight of Arabella – which must have been quite the sight indeed, weeping as she was – the young woman froze.

"Pack my things," Arabella murmured. "I am leaving."

"But Ma'am –"

Arabella shook her head. "Quickly, please."

She silently begged the maid to do as she asked without further protest. And, after a moment more of hesitation, Margaret did just that. Relieved, Arabella followed her into the bedroom to help. As she did, however, she caught sight of Jasper's empty bedroom.

Her stomach lurched. She was a fool to think that she might one day share that bed with him. A fool to think that her dreams of a family might one day come true.

Now she had even less than she had started out with. She would leave this place a widow in all but name. She would have no home, no husband, no future. An outcast.

Pressing a hand to her mouth, Arabella muffled a sob. Her family . How would she ever find the courage to tell them that she was no longer accepted in her new home? How could she begin to explain what had happened when she hardly knew the truth herself?

It was nearly too much to bear. But, somehow, Arabella found herself packed and standing beside the carriage a few hours later. On the steps of the manor, Margaret wiped away a stray tear as Mr. Rogers raised a hand in farewell.

She knew it was a credit to the quality of the duke's staff that she had become to close with them in her short time at the estate. But Arabella could not feel very grateful. She instead felt cheated, torn away from newfound acquaintances who might have been lifelong friends to come.

No one had been told where Arabella was going – she did not want them feeling conflicted or having their loyalties torn between duke and duchess - but they could see how distressed she was. They had guessed, no doubt, that this was not a voluntary holiday.

Mustering the last of her strength, Arabella raised her hand. "Goodbye," she whispered as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. Then, turning away, Arabella climbed into the carriage.

She did not look back as it rolled away from the manor. She could not look back. This was the last time she would lay eyes on the duke's estate.

The duchess had been cast aside. Where was she to go now? What was she to do?