Page 39 of Yours Always
Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, her chest ached. The weight of it all pressed down on her; grief, guilt, and disbelief. Grace continued, her voice trembling. “He thought he was protecting you, Sarah. He thought letting you go was the right thing to do.” Silence pulsed between them, full of all the things left unsaid; love withheld, choices made too late.
Grace shook her head slowly, a broken smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “He’s a fool.” A soft laugh, wet with unshed tears. “A noble, stubborn, beautiful fool. But a fool all the same.”
Sarah could barely breathe. The room tilted slightly, like the truth had shifted the ground beneath her. Grace reached forward, her hands firm on Sarah’s trembling shoulders. “You love him, don’t you?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. Sarah nodded, but she couldn’t speak.
Grace leaned forward, her hands strong on Sarah’s trembling shoulders. “Then fight for him,” she said fiercely. “Because if you don’t, you will regret it every day for the rest of your life. And trust me, you don’t want to live with that kind of regret.” Sarah buried her face in her hands, heart splintering all over again, but for the first time in weeks, hope stirred in the wreckage, and she clung to it.
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The room was still. Dust clung to the windowsill, caught in the golden slant of the late afternoon light. The lace curtains stirred slightly, though the windows were closed. It smelled faintly of old rosewater like a memory refusing to fade away completely.
Sarah stepped inside, her feet careful on the faded carpet. The room had been left mostly untouched since Mary disappeared. A few forgotten trinkets still rested on the dressing table: a silver-backed brush, a dried sprig of heather tied with blue ribbon. She stood at the edge of the bed, running her hand over the coverlet. “I wish you were here,” she whispered. She meant it, but the ache was complicated.
Mary had left without a word. Without a goodbye. Sarah had cried for weeks, hoping and praying she would return. She remembered holding her in the dark as Mary wept, whispering things about love and ruin and the crushing weight of expectations. She had spent weeks carrying the weight of something Sarah never fully understood. And then she was gone.
“You didn’t even say goodbye,” Sarah whispered, her voice cracking. “You left us all, and now Benjamin is gone, and I don’t know what I feel, and you’re not here to help me.” She sat on the edge of the bed, covering her mouth with her hand as tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
The door creaked softly open. “I thought I might find you here,” said a quiet voice. Sarah turned. Her father stood in the doorway, eyes gentle, hands folded like he didn’t want to intrude. She managed a small, tired smile. “It still smells like her,” she said, wiping her face with the edge of her sleeve. Robert nodded and stepped inside, moving slowly, as if careful not to disturb the stillness of the room.
He sat beside her without a word. For a while, they said nothing. The silence between them was not heavy, but almost sacred. Then he spoke. “She didn’t mean to hurt you.” Sarah stared down at her hands, her voice small. “But she did.”
“I know.” The silence returned as they both sat with the pain of a wound they had never fully healed from. Her next words came softer still, laced with a child’s question that had grown up into something more complicated. “Why did Mary leave?”
Robert let out a quiet breath, the kind that seemed to carry years with it. “There is something we never told you. We thought it would protect you, but I wonder now if it only left you with more painful questions.” Sarah’s heart thudded once. The kind of movement a body makes before it braces for impact.
“Mary was with child,” he said softly. “The man she loved promised marriage, but he only wanted a good name and a large dowry. When the opportunity arose, he left her for a woman who had a title and a spotless reputation.” Sarah stared at him, stunned, the room suddenly feeling colder somehow.
Robert continued, his voice steady but quiet. “She was devastated. Your mother begged Matthew to marry her, and spare the family the scandal. And because we thought he might care for her.”
“He refused?”
“He did. But in the end it didn’t matter.” His eyes met hers calm, and unwavering. “Because Mary said she wouldn’t havehim either.” Sarah swallowed hard. “Why?” Robert didn’t look away. “Because she knew his heart was already given.”
The words cut and healed all at once. Sarah’s hands trembled. She blinked fast, but the tears came anyway. “I hated her for leaving.” She whispered. “I thought she didn’t love us. That I wasn’t enough to make her stay.”
“Oh, Sarah,” he said gently. “She didn’t leave because she didn’t love you. She left because she did.” Sarah looked at him, wide-eyed, the words pressing against something long buried. “What?”
“We told Mary we would support her, that if she wanted to stay we would weather the storm together. But she knew if she stayed, if the Ton discovered what had happened...” He trailed off, the weight of it thick in the air. “It wouldn’t have been just her who was ruined. It would’ve been you, too.” Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. “And if the only way to salvage your futures was to marry a man she believed you loved...” His voice cracked, just slightly. “She couldn’t bear it. So she ran to protect you, and we invented the story of an Aunt in France to protect you both.” He sighed. The sound was heavy with years of silence and sorrow. “It doesn’t excuse what we did, but maybe it helps you understand.”
“Why didn’t Matthew ever tell me?”
“Because he didn’t want you to carry the weight of her choices. Or ours.” Sarah shook her head slowly, tears slipping freely now. “I thought he was hers.” she said. “That he grieved for her. That he only ever saw me as something to protect. Not someone to love.”
Robert gave a small, quiet smile. He reached for her face, brushing a tear from her cheek with the same tenderness he had always offered. “Oh, my darling girl,” he said, voice thick. “I’ve known the truth for years. Quite frankly, I think you may be the only one who didn’t.”
He took her hand in his, warm and steady. “Matthew was never Mary’s. He was never Benjamin’s. Matthew has been yours...always.”
Sarah’s voice was barely a whisper. “Grace told me that Mother went to see him before he left for Scotland.”
“She told me, when Benjamin died.” Robert nodded slowly. “She is ashamed and deeply sorry. She wants to make it right.”
Sarah leaned into her father’s shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her with the same quiet strength he always had. “We are going to heal from this,” she whispered. “Aren’t we?” Robert kissed the top of her head, his voice soft against her hair.
“My darling girl,” he murmured, “I believe you have already started.”
Chapter 24
Matthew ran his handdown his horse’s nose as he slipped on the bridle. The Westons would be sitting down to dinner by now. He didn’t think he could survive another silent meal sitting across from Sarah, pretending not to ache for her.
