Page 24 of The Wise Daughter
How had he lived there for three months and not known of these needs?
The light pressure of Nora’s hand tightened around his arm. “Your Grace, are you feeling all right? A tour of the castle can wait if you are still unwell.” Her eyes flitted to the bruise on his temple.
Was it silly for his heart to swell like that when she showed her concern for him?Yes,he told himself. Her concern did not extend to deeper feelings. He only saw the same kindness she would offer to anyone, else why was she insisting on addressing him so formally despite his requests that she use his name?
“No need to worry about me, Nora. I’m quite well. There’s one room I’m particularly looking forward to showing you.”
“You must not show me all the best places at once, Your Grace. Else, what shall we do tomorrow?”
“I promise, I have no lack of ideas.”
Unfamiliar heat raced across his face, making him look away and focus on maintaining a steady walking pace. Aching ankle or no, he had been struck with an urgency to see the state of his mother’s music room. Of all the rooms in the castle, that one must not change. Hehadn’t visited it since arriving back at the castle, convincing himself that he was too busy or uninterested, but now, as his heartbeat quickened along with his steps, he knew he had been deceiving himself.
His mother’s words echoed in his thoughts as he neared the music room.
You must learn to play the pianoforte, Aaron, so you may express what’s in your heart when words fail you.
He could hear the words as clearly as if she had instructed him yesterday. Well, words failed him often, but playing the pianoforte would never help with that.
When they arrived, the door gave a click and creaked open. He held the door open for Nora, then followed her in and…
“Is it your ankle, Your Grace? You do not look well.”
She was right. He wasn’t well. He felt as if the thieves had just pummeled their fists into his stomach again.
Where there had once been a beautiful room graced with his mother’s touch and filled with dazzling instruments was hardly anything worth mentioning. Shelves once filled with books and sheet music were now sparse, littered by scraps and loose papers. Sofas and chairs with cushions she had embroidered were replaced with a scratched wooden bench and two spindly chairs that belonged in the kitchens.
Where was the family portrait, the one Aaron had sat so still for all those hours as a child? Where was his mother’s harp? Her violin? Her cello and her flute? Where were the stands that held up the music and the ribbons she sometimes tied around them? Where were her flowers? The room always had vases of her favorite flowers. And where was the drawing he had given his mother of him and her together at the pianoforte? Despite his clumsy lines, she had framed his childhood art and hung it here, in her favorite room, where she would see it often.
Now it was gone.
The only instrument that remained was the pianoforte in the corner that he avoided looking at. How could so much have disappeared? And why had no one told him about this?
“Your Grace? Come sit down.”
Nora gave a gentle tug toward the spindly chair, but he shook his head.
“No. I… I’m well enough.”
Her blue eyes wouldn’t leave him. He could feel them roving over him, searching for what he wasn’t telling her. Her attention unnerved him. In such a short time, those breathtaking blue eyes had seen and discerned so much. It shouldn’t have mattered that she sensed his dismay. He was going to marry her, but this… This was an open wound. He needed to wrap it up, cover it even from himself and push it far from his thoughts.
“Please, Your Grace…”
“Forgive me. I was caught off guard when we entered. This room is different than I remembered.” He took a few painful steps further in, cradling his wounds rather than worrying Nora by fleeing. “This room used to be full of instruments. They were my mother’s joy. She spent half her time here, whenever she wasn’t entertaining or accompanying my father somewhere.” He examined the places on the walls where the portraits had once hung, the soft blue paint darker in those places like footprints. He swallowed back a lump rising in his throat. “I didn’t realize anything had changed until now.”
Nora kept a light hold on his arm, matching his steps. “What happened to your mother, Your Grace?”
He knew this question was coming. How could she not be curious? But expecting her curiosity was not the same as being prepared for it.
“I haven’t been in contact with her since I was a child.” It wasn’t an answer, but it was all he could manage.
“I’m so sorry.”
Those words coming from anyone else might have felt hollow, but from Nora, they were genuine. He could hear it, her desire to comfort. He could even hear her curiosity, but she didn’t press him.
It was stupid of him to come here if he didn’t want to talk about his mother, but he hadn’t expected such a violation of her memory. This wasn’t the work of thieves or mere carelessness. Someone had removed everything. Why?
Nora was still observing him. He tested words in his thoughts in an attempt to form an explanation.I know my mother loved my father and me, but…No. Explaining would mean facing the gaping holes in his knowledge. All he could offer was a simpler truth.
