Page 62 of Unchaining the Heart of the Marquess
“You will. You must.”
“But I love him, Mother.”
“Mr. Greeves saved your life, bringing you back from the brink of death not once, but many times. He has done nothing but show you the truth of his affections from the first. Your relationship with His Lordship has brought you nothing but harm.”
“I am grateful to Owen for all he has done, and I care for him deeply, but I have loved Frederick my entire life. Am I simply to walk away from a lifetime of friendship?”
“Yes, my dear, that is exactly what you must do.” Josephine’s mother arose and walked over to the armoire, pulling out a dress and underthings. “Arise, wash your face, and dress. It is time to leave youthful fantasies behind you and embrace the future that lies just outside that door.” Mrs. Merton kissed her daughter’s forehead then left the room.
Josephine sat for a moment thinking about her mother’s words. She loved and respected her mother, but she had never been in support of Josephine and Frederick’s friendship, so her opinions on the matter would always be biased against him. That did not, however, mean that she was wrong. Josephine slipped out from beneath the covers and readied herself for the day.
Things were so much less complicated before Frederick’s declaration. At least before yesterday, I knew exactly where I stood. Now I do not know. Now I do not know anything at all.
Chapter 29
Frederick spent his days in restless sorrow, watching his father’s once robust constitution fade away before his eyes as they awaited news of his mother’s return. He understood his father’s melancholy now more than ever before, as his own longings for Josephine consumed his heart and soul.
How much of life is lost in denial? How much of life is wasted in longing?
At night he dreamed of her creamy luminescent skin, crimson sundrenched locks, ebony eyes, and fiery spirit. He dreamed of the past they had shared together and the future he so longed to create, then he would awaken and remember that she was gone. Had he not feared for his father’s life he would gladly have run away as his mother had done.
Unable to bear the loss of Josephine from his life for a moment longer, Frederick took pen in hand to write her a letter of apology. He had intended to keep the letter brief, but once he started writing he could not stop. Everything that he felt from joy at their love to sorrow at its loss came pouring out upon the page. With each stroke of the pen, his life’s blood flowed forth as black ink in a declaration of what could have, should have been.
Tears dripped upon the paper causing the ink to smear in shades of grey, like the clouds that had settled over his heart.I have played the fool and the fool I am cursed to remain, for naught but your love exists to cure and the lack thereof to drive a man insane.
Angry at himself and the world at large, Frederick stood crumpling the paper and tossing it to the floor. He raked his fingers through his hair and paced the floor. Walking back over to the desk, he poured himself a snifter of brandy and downed it in one gulp. The liquid burned all the way down, then settled like a warm blow in his belly. He poured another and took a seat on the settee beside the fire. Staring into the flames, he sat and sipped the amber liquid wishing to numb the pain.
Oh, Josephine…He turned his gaze back to the crumbled letter upon the floor and contemplated burning it.If only my feelings could be extinguished so easily.
Rising, he moved to pick up the piece of paper and went to stand by the fireplace. The fiery tendrils of flame reminded him of her hair as it had looked blowing wild and free in the breeze. Clenching the letter tightly in his hand he drew it back ready to feed it to the flames, until a sharp pain stopped him midway. The paper had cut his palm. Opening his hand, he found within a crimson stain blossoming across the page unfurling as vivid as a red rose in summer.
As he stood there staring at his proclamation of love signed with his tears and sealed in his blood, the poetry of such a farewell was not lost on him. Suddenly, he found that he could not destroy it, nor could he send it. Angry at his own cowardice, he crumpled the page once more and threw it against the wall where it bounced off and skittered across the floor. The housekeeper Mrs. Sands entered the room and picked up the errant piece of paper.
“Shall I dispose of this for you, My Lord?” she asked, brow raised in inquisition for his uncharacteristic behavior.
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Sands. My apologies if I startled you.”
“Not at all, My Lord.” The housekeeper curtsied and then left the room.
Unable to stay cooped up in the house for a moment longer, Frederick went down to the stables, saddled his horse, and rode off into the forest. He rode for hours hoping to find peace through bodily exhaustion. By the time he returned to the manor house, he regretted his lack of courage by having instructed the housekeeper to throw away the letter when he should have taken care of it himself. He knew he owed Josephine an apology and determined to start anew with a fresh, clean page.
Embarrassed for his outburst and wishing to apologize to the housekeeper for the behavior she had witnessed, he entered the house through the servant’s entrance in search of Mrs. Sands. Instead of the housekeeper, he found the cook, Mary Stone. “Ah, Mrs. Stone, I was looking for Mrs. Sands. Do you happen to know where she might be?”
“Yes, My Lord.”
“Is she upstairs?”
“No, My Lord. Mrs. Sands is not here. She departed hours ago.”
“Not here? Where has she gone?”
“I am not certain, My Lord, but she said something about needing a few days off to address a family matter I believe it was.”
“So suddenly?”
“Yes, she was quite beside herself, the poor dear. She kept muttering something about making a grave mistake and that she hoped to arrive before it was too late. She was not making any sense.”
Frederick frowned concernedly. “I hope it is not anything serious.”
