Page 81 of A Foreign Crown
“I love you too. Your mother and I will smile down on you.” His grip was weak. “Know that.”
Aribella nodded. She held her father’s hand in both of her own, and she gazed at him, so serene, eyes closed, breathing shallow, with a pleased sort of expression. She studied every facet of his face, committing him to memory until his chest rose one last time.
“I love you,” he whispered, and his chest did not rise again.
She gasped. Her tears fell down onto his chest as she rested her face there. “How can I live without you?” The room began to chill as the embers in the grate turned to ash before Aribella moved. When at last she stood, she covered her father’s face with a sheet and moved from the room with a newfound steadiness in her sorrow. The castle walls gave her comfort, but they were just walls—just rock, tapestries, age-old mortar. Nothing of her father remained, nothing of her mother, nor any one of her ancestors whose pictures hung in the portrait hall.
As she made her way through the cold and drafty halls to find the others and inform them of her father’s death, she felt an unexpected surety to her step. Did her heart ache for her father? Yes, with a poignant sharpness she worried might never leave. But she knew where to go for comfort in her sorrow: across the ocean. There was nothing of comfort here. Her father’s death took all feeling and light from the place, and she saw that he was correct. There was nothing of life or love in these walls.
She found her beloved staff in the warmth of the kitchen. They stood when she entered, and as she tried to speak the words announcing the duke’s death, all efforts caught in her throat, and she couldn’t form any sound.
James, Julia, Mrs. Givens, and Marzelle rushed to her and encircled her in their arms, where she let all her tears fall. They rocked together in a hushed group, and then she wiped her face. They moved to sit. Aribella drew comfort from them, from their loyalty and love.
“You have my gratitude forever for being with us until the end.”
They nodded. No one spoke. She clung to Julia with one hand and Marzelle with the other, James sitting with them in their tight circle.
At length, Aribella drew in one more breath before doing what she knew must be done. “James, would you ride for the doctor?”
He nodded.
“Oh, and before you go, would you inform...” She choked on her next words, forcing them out. “His Grace?” The former Lord Bartholomew was now the Duke of Sumter.
Julia started and then burst into tears. She hid her face in her hands. Aribella reached an arm around her shoulders, fighting more tears herself.
James nodded and left them in their sadness.
Marzelle shook her head. “And me, not having anything particularly good to eat.”
Aribella offered to help her in the kitchen—anything to keep her mind off her father and to help her think through what she wanted to do.
The new duke would want an answer to his proposal, and probably soon. And now that he was the duke, and she was unchaperoned, she couldn’t very well stay in her own house much longer. She supposed his mother and sisters would return. And just the thought of them descending and doing what they liked to her home made her wish for any other place to live. She considered returning to the palace. She imagined the Queen would have a place for her, but Aribella didn’t want to be around the atmosphere at court.
And then, thinking past the immediate future, she considered again her father’s words. “Marzelle, I’m thinking about doing something completely mad—”
“Aribella.” The new duke rushed into the room. She stood, and he moved to embrace her. “I’m so sorry.”
She nodded against him, tears welling in her eyes again. “Thank you.”
“What has been done? What needs to be done?”
“The funeral preparations must be attended to. James has gone for the doctor to verify his death. I was with Father. He went happily, peacefully.”
He nodded. “I’m glad for that.” His eyes were kind, his embrace warm. He stepped back, holding her hands in his own. “We’ll do this together. You are not alone in this.”
The warmth that spread through her because of his response comforted her. She wasn’t alone. She could get through these next few days. But she had to be honest with him. And she would answer his proposal as soon as it was appropriate to do so.
The days went by, and the funeral moved forward smoothly. Aribella participated in a funeral procession for her father. The new Duke of Sumter attended the funeral and stood at her side through all of the visits and condolences afterward. After her father was buried and the castle was quiet once again, the new duke sat at her side by the fire. He was everything a dear friend should be, and were it not for Layton, she would have married him and might have had a pleasant life.
But even His Grace noticed that she was unsettled, dissatisfied. “You are restless.”
“That’s very intuitive and explains precisely how I feel.” She searched for courage and the words she should say. “Lord Bartholomew. I want, with all my heart, to accept your hand. But my heart is bound.” She explained to him how she’d met Layton, how he’d gone home to his country, and how she’d wanted to follow him there.
The whole while she tried not to notice the pain that flashed across his face. Then he said, “I’m disappointed. I admit to having feelings for you. I can only see them growing more through the years.” His gaze moved about the room. “And I love this old castle and our estate. But...” He filled his chest with air and exhaled slowly. “But I can’t say I’m surprised to hear your response.”
“You are everything this estate needs. I, and my father, have felt so comfortable thinking of you here. Thank you.” She placed a hand at the side of his face. “Thank you for being willing to include me.”
They retired for the evening, Aribella still sharply missing her father but feeling a certain burden lifted now that Lord Bartholomew understood her feelings.
