Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

E mma raised her hand to her temple and winced. She might have slept the night before, but the pounding in her head was a declaration of how fitful it had been.

"Do drink more tea. You will feel better, I promise." Antoinetta handed her the teacup again, and Emma reluctantly took it. A knock sounded at her bedchamber door then, and she inhaled—anticipating and dreading.

Her mother walked in. "May I have a word, Emma?" she asked with a tentative rise of her brows. Emma nodded, and they sat down together. "You did not come for breakfast," her mother began gently as Antoinette excused them.

Emma ignored the comment, her concern for her mother overshadowing her own discomfort. "How is your shoulder, Mother?" she asked. Food was the last thing on her mind, and she had no desire to discuss her lack of appetite.

"Oh, nothing a little liniment and some hot water has not already taken care of," Caroline shrugged off her concern, trying to appear insouciant.

"I am sorry, Mother. I should have been hit instead."

"Do not say that," her mother admonished softly, reaching out to take Emma's hands, squeezing them gently but firmly. "I should be the one apologizing to you, Emma. For failing you as a mother, I cannot begin to show you my regrets, child," she added, tears welling up in her eyes now.

"I suppose you did the best you could," Emma tried to reassure, her voice trembling with the effort to contain her emotions. Caroline had not failed her, but she had been absent and unsupportive at times when Emma had needed her most.

Caroline sighed, the sound filled with regret and sorrow. "I never thought your father would go so far as to strike you. You were very brave, standing up to him like that," she said, pride and something akin to admiration in her eyes.

"You were brave too, interceding the way you did," Emma replied.

"It is something I should have done from the very beginning, but I was too much of a coward to confront him like you did, Emma," Caroline shook her head. "I thought that after everything, it was only right that I allowed him to have his way. That I owed him that much."

"What do you mean?" Emma asked, growing perplexed.

Her mother fell silent, her gaze distant and pensive. After a moment, she spoke, her voice wistful. "You were not our first child, Emma."

"What?" Emma was shocked, her mind reeling. Not once had she ever heard of this. Not even from the servants.

"I had a son first, you see," her mother continued, her eyes taking on a faraway look. "He lived for a few hours. He came and filled us with so much hope, but he took it all with him when he left us."

Emma noticed her mother's trembling, and she took hold of them. "I had a very difficult pregnancy," Caroline said softly. "The physician warned us beforehand, but after the birth, we thought it would be all right—a miracle from the heavens. When the babe died a few hours later, your father blamed me. He blamed my weakness. Because of my frailty, he said I had failed to bear him a healthy son. For the longest time, I blamed myself too. I felt I owed Tristan that. So I let him get away with everything. I let him take compensation for my inability to give him the child he wanted."

Caroline finished with a long, weary sigh, and Emma felt tears sting her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. "You never told me, Mother. Why?"

"And burden you beyond your father's demands?" Caroline snorted sheepishly, a bitter smile playing on her lips. "Besides, it was a shame I did not fancy sharing."

"Oh, but it isn't your fault, Mother. It was never your fault," Emma squeezed her hand still in hers, her voice filled with fervent conviction.

"When I had you," Caroline began again, her eyes distant with painful memories, "he was all but disappointed and angry that I didn't bear him the son he'd hoped for. He swore to make both me and the child pay. Thus, I promised myself that I would protect you from his rage no matter what."

Emma's heart ached at her mother's words, the weight of the past pressing heavily upon them. "Mother, you have done more than anyone could ask. You have protected me in ways I never knew."

Caroline's eyes glistened with tears as she met Emma's gaze. "I wish I could have done more. I wish I had been stronger. With every insult and pain he inflicted over the years, I reminded myself that it could have been you. Better me than you. All I had to do was be his obedient little wife and keep his ire on myself and away from you," Caroline's voice trembled as she spoke, each word weighed down with years of suffering.

Emma's chest tightened. "Oh mother, you should not have kept me in the dark about all this," she said, her voice breaking.

Caroline's eyes, red and weary, met Emma's. "That is why I wanted you to marry the Earl at whatever cost, Emma. I wanted you away from your father for your safety because he was only getting worse by the day," she explained. "Oh, do understand that I never wanted you to marry Neads, Emma. No mother would want her daughter with a man such as that."

"Now I know, Mother," she said softly, reaching for a handkerchief on the nearby side table. She dabbed at her mother's tears, her touch gentle and tender.

"Forgive me, Emma," Caroline implored.

Emma's vision blurred, yet she managed a comforting smile. "You only wanted to protect me," she said. "There is nothing to forgive, Mother."

Caroline pulled Emma into a tight embrace, her body shaking with quiet sobs. Emma buried her face in her mother's warmth, feeling the familiar scent of lavender and rosewater. She clung to her, the safety and comfort she had yearned for now within her grasp.

Emma had felt abandoned, unloved, and betrayed for years. If only she had known that it was her mother's only way of protecting her.

A knock interrupted their embrace. "Enter," Caroline said as she pulled away, quickly drying her eyes. The butler appeared and bowed.

"A caller, My Lady," he announced with his usual solemnity.

Emma's heart gave a hopeful little skip.