Page 73 of Unchaining the Heart of the Marquess
“I do not want to leave you alone. You were about to tell me something just before Father interrupted.”
“It will wait. Mr. Tatham might not. If he thinks that you do not wish for his presence here at Chescrown, he might leave. He was quite devastated when you stormed out early. I am fairly certain that nothing has gone how he intended for it to go. It would be quite understandable if you rejected him for his actions, just as it would be if you rejected the Duchess for hers. I think both of them would rather know sooner than later how you feel about them.”
“You, Josephine Merton, are wise beyond your years,” Frederick praised, with an affectionate squeeze to her hand.
“I know,” she smiled sweetly with a sparkle of mischief in her eyes.
Frederick stood, leaned over to kiss her forehead, and went in search of Devon Tatham. On his way out of the house, he requested that one of the maids go and sit with Josephine to ensure that she did not go unattended if she were to relapse into an unconscious state. Leaving the house, Frederick walked to the stables. He found Tatham packing his few belongings into an old worn sea bag.
“Giving up?” Frederick asked, not sure how to address the man before him.
Tatham turned and faced him, surprised to see him. “I assumed that you would not wish to see me again after the events of the day. I did not plan to go far, just to Sarah’s brothers. They should be made aware of what has transpired.”
“Yes, I agree that they should know. I will go and speak with them myself in due time. As to your assumptions that I would not wish to see you again, I considered it. I was quite angry toward both you and the Duchess, but the thought of never seeing either of you again was unfathomable to me. You are both an important part of my life and my heart, but it is going to take some time before I will ever trust either of you again.”
“That is understandable,” Tatham laid his sea bag down upon his cot and sat down, gesturing for Frederick to do the same. “What would you have me do?”
“Tell me about Sarah Evans.”
“Your mother, Sarah, was beautiful. She was a wee little thing, only coming up to my chest.” He used his hand to show where. “She had long dark hair, with the warmest brown eyes you ever did see. Her smile could light up a room. You have her looks. You have my jawline, height, and broad shoulders, but the rest of you is her. When you smile, it is as if she was returned to me if only for a moment. Why I did not see the resemblance before the midwife told me about you, I do not know.”
“I found myself wondering something quite similar earlier as I gazed upon my own reflection in the mirror. The resemblance to the Evans brothers is quite strong and yet I did not see it until now.”
“They are good men. You could not ask for better uncles than they,” Tatham stated. “You appear to be taking all of this quite well all things considered.”
“I am not taking it well at all, actually, but I cannot change what has happened. My life’s course has been set, and I must do all I can to be worthy of it and the responsibilities it holds. I cannot change who I am, any more than you can change what happened all of those years ago.”
“In my mind, I think I thought that if you knew the truth, somehow it might make it less painful, as if I would have a piece of Sarah back. I was foolish to think that the truth would lessen the pain of the past. I was a fool to think that threatening the woman you know as your mother would be the answer. I never stopped to think about how much my actions would hurt you, I was so blinded by my own pain.”
“Had I been in your place I might have done much worse,” Frederick admitted. “I cannot imagine the pain and suffering you have endured. To believe your child to be dead only to discover that they were stolen from you is incomprehensible. There is not a man or woman alive who would not have gone a bit mad under such circumstances.”
“I am most sorrowful for having harmed Miss Merton. It was never my intention to do so. How is she?”
“She is recovering. It is she who encouraged me to come and speak with you. She knew that you would be considering leaving Chescrown.”
“She is an intelligent woman. She is a good match for you.”
Frederick nodded his head in agreement. “That she is, a most intelligent woman of beauty and grace, far beyond what I deserve.”
“I am glad you were able to come to that conclusion before you discovered the truth about your lineage. It reflects well on your character and of the man that you have become. I could not be prouder of you had I been allowed the privilege to see to your upbringing myself. Having you taken from me was a criminal act that I will never forgive the Duchess for, nor will I ever be able to recover those lost years, but you have been given so much more than I ever could have given you.”
“At a very dear cost to you,” Frederick noted. He could not ignore the pain he saw in Tatham’s eyes. The affection he had held for the man as his trusted friend had not vanished, and it affected him greatly to see those he cared about hurting so.
“Yes, very dear indeed.” Tatham’s eyes filled with tears as they took on a faraway look.
Frederick wondered if Tatham was remembering Sarah. He could not bring himself to call her his mother. His mind refused to bend in such a fashion as to allow it. Aurora Hadley, Duchess of Chescrown, was his mother, no matter the means by which it had occurred. His heart and mind could not be changed on such an issue in the course of a few hours, no matter how traumatic those hours might have been.
He had never known Sarah Evans, or known of her existence, before recent events. It was difficult to fathom loving someone he had never been acquainted with, and yet the knowledge that she had indeed given birth to him and in so doing lost her own life accorded her just such a love. Frederick could not reckon the conflicting emotions within himself, and it left him feeling adrift.
“How does one reconcile such a thing?”
“‘Tis impossible. There is no path to a reconciliation of such a violation, and yet we must go on. Life does not stop, even though it feels as if it should. One must simply choose to go on one day at a time until bereavement turns to resignation and resignation turns to acceptance and acceptance turns to gratitude for the time that was given and for that which is yet to come.”
“I feel as if I have gone through all of that in less than a day,” Frederick admitted. “I have felt all of that and more.”
Tatham nodded his head. “Even so, it will take time. You will awaken in the morning, and it will come to your mind that you are not who you thought you were, things are not how they should have been, and you will go through it all again just to get out of bed and face the day.”
“That sounds like a very lonely existence,” Frederick observed frowning.
