Page 57 of The Marquis' Game of Seduction
Rose’s eyes darted back toward him. She hadn’t envisioned that he’d actually go through with it—with telling her. But here he was, beginning to outline the truth. Nine years ago was two years prior to when most of the servants in the entire house had been hired—all except Judith, of course.
“Nine years ago,” Rose whispered.
“At the time, I was young. Reckless. I felt that the entire world owed me something. You can ask my sister, when you meet her. She was five years older than me, and she looked at me as this brash idiot.
“Regardless, there was a maid working here. A maid called Margaret,” he continued. “She was around my age. Perhaps one year younger. I can hardly remember it now. She was hired when I was perhaps sixteen, and she was—she was beautiful and youthful and playful. And I fell head over heels for her.”
Rose felt a strange tightening in her throat. It was a difficult thing to hear about the love he’d had once held for another, especially as she was currently head over heels, herself.
“My love for her was a secret,” he continued. “I ensured that she wasn’t caught in any kind of strange situation. But what I didn’t know, at least for a long time, was that she only had eyes for another.
“The other was a cousin of mine, a cousin that I knew didn’t care for her whatsoever. They’d spent a bit of time together only when he’d come to visit. I hadn’t known that he’d convinced her to love him—without loving her in return. When I first caught them together, I was devastated. I tried to tell my cousin to leave her alone, especially since I knew he didn’t want to offer her anything. And I could already see it in her eyes. She could only love him, perhaps forever.”
Colin’s eyes grew shadowed and strange. Rose felt she needed to say something, anything, in the midst of this painful telling.
“You felt you needed to protect her.”
“Yes. I wanted her to love me instead. I wanted to give her the entire world. But of course, before I could truly tell her the truth, she became pregnant,” Colin said.
Rose nodded. She supposed that was the only conclusion to what she’d just seen. Colin’s eyes looked heavy with tears.
“Of course, she didn’t want to tell my cousin anything about it, as he’d already made it clear at that point that he wanted nothing to do with her. She came to my bedroom one night, very late, and she started crying, telling me that I was the only person in the world who could possibly protect her. I didn’t know what to do, Rose. Here, in this house? I knew my parents tended to stay out of the affairs of servants. But I worried that they would think the child was mine and… and force her into something that she didn’t want to be forced into. I wouldn’t marry her out of some sort of favour, hoping that one day she would change her mind and love me instead.
“Ultimately, I spoke with Judith regarding the matter. At the time, she worked closely with my father, but I regarded her as something of a mother figure, yet less judgmental. I told her at first that if she ever uttered the truth of this to my father, I would find a way to have her removed from staff. But at this, she simply laughed. She said that she would never break a promise like that. And from that day, I’ve trusted her with everything.
“It was she who chose the tower for Margaret. When her pregnancy became too obvious, Judith and I set up a bed and a wardrobe and artworks and a mirror. I went to be with her throughout every mid-morning and afternoon, sometimes deep into the night. Oh goodness, Rose, she made me laugh. Her mind was this whirlwind of creativity. We used to sit and make up stories with one another, much like you and Duncan do today. And all the while, her belly grew bigger.
“I first noticed how weak she was at around five months. I wanted to call a doctor to assist her, to check up on her, but she insisted that we involve no one. According to Margaret, it was essential to keep her pregnancy a secret. She was terribly afraid the brickbat of society would fall upon her child. I should have insisted, because every day it seemed that she grew more fatigued, more pale. I just felt like I was watching her waste away, despite the baby growing inside her.
“She was no more than six and a half months along when she started having contractions. Judith agreed to help, while I paced the area around the tower until it was over. This was a day that my mother took me aside and asked me why I wouldn’t leave the tower. She had ideas that it was haunted, you see, because there was a constant glow coming from the window. Funny how time comes back around, isn’t it?”
Rose imagined it: Colin’s mother peering out of the same bedroom window she now saw before them both, chilled to the bone at the prospect of ghosts.
“She gave birth early in the morning. After Judith had cleaned the baby and placed her in a little bassinet, she called for me to come in. She’d covered Margaret as much as she could, but it was clear from the sight of the bed that she had lost a lot of blood. She was pale as a ghost. She looked up at me with these lost eyes, like she wasn’t sure where she was. And she said my name, the same way she always had since we’d been younger, before everything had become so complicated.
“I tried to tell her that things would be all right. I tried to make her drink water, eat a little bit of food. I was convinced that if she just regained some of her strength, she would be able to sleep and then wake in the morning to a bright new day—and a new baby.
“But it was rather clear after only about an hour that she had lost too much blood. Judith’s eyes gave me all the information I needed to know. But Margaret knew, as well. She asked Judith to leave the room so that she and I could have a final private conversation. I held her hand as she asked me—she…”
Colin’s voice wavered. He stared at the fire for a long moment.
“She asked me to promise her never, ever to give her baby away. She was terrified that her baby would end up at an orphanage. She’d heard such wretched things about orphanages, that the children go hungry, that they feel aimless and fearful and… and so many of the things that you probably understand so much better than I ever could. She squeezed my hand so hard while she asked it that her nails cut into my skin and she actually drew blood. She hardly had any strength at all, Rose. I knew that this mattered more than her own life.
“I asked her what she wanted to call the little girl, and she told me Emily. I thought it was beautiful. I then walked over and picked up the infant—the first and only time I’ve ever held a baby, mind you, and came over to Margaret to show her her baby. A little bit of color returned to her cheek. She said hello to Emily. She said she was sorry. And then, she apologised to me, too. I asked her why. And she told me that I already knew. I suppose it had something to do with her love for my cousin, or her abandoning me here at the estate—or any number of things. She knew I had misgivings about becoming the Marquees. I struggled at that time with my sister, with my father. She was truly one of the only people in the world I trusted and cared for, besides Allan.”
“And then only a few hours after she’d brought Emily into this world, she drifted out of it,” Colin rasped. “It’s a strange thing, watching someone die. It’s quite different than watching someone fall asleep. You know they’re in the room with you, until suddenly, they’re somewhere else. At the exact moment I felt sure she was gone, Emily started wailing… I called for Judith, just wanting someone else to be there. Anyone. But I recognised that Emily was my responsibility at that time.”
“I walked to her and held her against me. I knew she was hungry, that Judith and I would have to find something for her. Keep her alive any way we could. But in that moment, I just prayed that my body warmth would be enough. She was so delicate, far too small, so premature. It was a miracle that she survived.”
In a million years, Rose knew she never could have possibly come to this conclusion. She tried not to show her complete shock, tried to guard her face from too much emotion. But the weight of his story was too much. She reached forward and gripped his hand. He didn’t move his away and simply allowed it, this impossible contact. Still, his cheeks were heavy.
“What happened next?” Rose asked. She couldn’t live with it, leaving the story of the twenty-one year old Colin up in the tower, holding the brand new and premature baby against him, without any knowledge of what to do next.
“We had a very private funeral. We told my father that one of the maids had passed away from a strange illness, but something that wasn’t contagious so he wouldn’t kick up a fuss. She’s buried near this very tower, in fact, beneath a stone that carries only her name. Margaret Green. I’ve showed it to Emily, and she knows that it’s an important site for her. She picks flowers and leaves them at the grave and even sometimes talks with her mother. You must imagine, when I hear her doing such a thing, it breaks my heart in two.
“Regardless, when Judith and I had finally calmed the baby, I informed her of what Margaret had asked me regarding keeping the child, ensuring she didn’t end up at an orphanage. Judith was difficult to read, I remember. At the time, we weren’t yet so close. And she told me—she told me that keeping the child could result in ruin. Ruin on the household and certainly ruin upon myself. But I was adamant that we had to make something work. Judith requested that I ask my sister her advice—so I wrote her in the West Indies, despite our estrangement. Duncan had already been born, although he was just a whisper to me. I hardly could picture my sister at all in this strange life she’d chosen for herself. And I certainly couldn’t imagine her with a child.”
“While we waited for the letter from Amelia to arrive, I hired a nursemaid to care for the baby in the tower. She was a kind woman, around my age, and I dare say because of her, Emily was allowed to live.
