Page 100 of My Own True Duchess
“Please assure me you won.”
“I made fourteen pounds. I cannot believe… I did nothing to earn that money, but the ladies insisted I have it. That is two years’ wages for some domestics and more money than many people ever see at once.”
“Why did you do it, Theo? Why storm the gates of a place that cost you financial security and marital accord?”
“You asked me that last night. Archie had many haunts. The Coventry was only one of them. You didn’t buy The Coventry until I was out of first mourning.”
The garden was an oasis of peace, even if the fountain had been sold, even if the lilies of the valley were pushing up the bricks on the walkway. Theo did not want to say her good-byes to Jonathan here, not in this sanctuary.
She half rose, but Jonathan caught her by the wrist. “Something Anselm said has stuck in my mind, Theo. Something I need to clarify with you.”
Theo sank back onto the bench. “Out with it, then. I’m leaving tomorrow morning, and I have no plans to return any time soon.”
Stop me. Ask me to stay. Please…
“You told me Archimedes died amid a silence so loud it broke your heart.”
Why would he recall those words, and why bring them up now? “I was the only one home, the only one with him.” Very likely because Archie had planned it that way.
“Anselm assisted you by having your husband’s personal effects sold, nearly all of them, from what the duke said. Rings, sleeve buttons, clothing, boots, his shaving kit and brushes, everything, including a collection of pistols, all but one of them in pristine condition.”
The moment condensed into dread, as many moments had since Archie’s death. This one was worse than all the others, because Jonathan was here, speaking quietly and pronouncing himself Theo’s friend.
“His Grace was most helpful,” Theo said.
Jonathan moved closer. “Theo?”
A scalding droplet hit the back of her hand. “I think you should go.” Another tear splashed onto her wrist, while a tearing pain welled from the bottomless pit in her belly.
“Archimedes took his own life,” Jonathan said, so gently. “Rather than face ruin, he left you alone to cope with the aftermath. He did this, knowing you had both a daughter and sister depending on you, and he did this without alerting his own family to the straits you’d be left in.”
Theo turned her head, unable to nod, speak, or reply in the face of a heartache so vast it nearly crushed her.
Another silence blossomed, this one patient and infinitely caring.
“Archimedes was not well, Jonathan. He was unwell in his mind, his body, his spirit. He was so sick, and I was so endlessly upset. I did not realize… I did not know...”
Jonathan enfolded her in an embrace, his arms tight around her as the tears grew into silent sobs. How long she cried, she did not know—an eternity of sorrow, a few minutes on a peaceful, sunny afternoon. Through it all, Jonathan held her and stroked her back, until the aftershocks of emotion quieted to an occasional shudder.
“I didn’t want you to know. I never wanted anybody to know.” Theo wiped at her cheeks with a handkerchief mangled past all hope. “He shot himself here.” She tapped her chest. “The physician pronounced it an accident, but Archie had been so despondent… The doctor put forth a lie, admonishing me to protect the dignity of the deceased, and I was too… I did not contradict him, and my dissembling was not for the sake of the deceased.”
“Guns do misfire, Theo.”
How kind he was, how dear. “Archie left a note: So sorry, my dear—for everything. Remember me fondly. Love, Archimedes . I have never remembered him fondly, not since that day.” She sat up, though Jonathan kept an arm around her shoulders. “You will think me awful.”
“I think you courageous and honorable to your bones.”
“I can’t look at a gun. For months afterward, if somebody dropped a platter, if a stone bounced up and hit a carriage window, I jumped half out of my skin. The nightmares were terrible, and I could not be honest with anybody. Bad enough to die in debt, but to die by one’s own hand… Diana and Seraphina would have had no future, and more than anything, I am still angry with Archie for that.”
“And yet,” Jonathan said, “you set aside your anger to rescue my gaming hell. Why, Theo?”
Because I am your friend too. “Because I know what it’s like to need help and find all backs turned, all eyes averted. I know what a life without allies feels like, and I know about your list of charities, Jonathan. You aid so many, and you never mentioned that to me. You blathered on about Quimbey and tenants and employees, but your generosity goes beyond that. You are a good man, you were my good man, and I lost my courage.”
He kissed her cheek and lingered close. “Why should you have to be brave all the time? Why should any of us?”
A fair question, and Theo would have the journey to Hampshire to ponder it. Jonathan would likely marry an heiress—six names came to Theo’s mind, all wealthy women from excellent families. Jonathan—drat him—had made good impressions on every one of them.
“Will you write to me?” She was a widow. Widows could receive correspondence from friends.
