Page 72 of Duke of Silver
With that, Percy turned and stormed out of the study, leaving Alexander alone with his thoughts, his guilt, and his fears.
Alexander tossed and turned in his bed, the echo of Percy’s parting words refusing to leave his mind.Quit living in the past.The phrase repeated itself over and over, like a drumbeat that wouldn’t cease. It wasn’t just his brother’s frustration that struck him, but the truth that had threaded itself through those words. Was Percy right? Was he still clinging to the past, allowing it to dictate the present, to hold him—and perhaps Elizabeth—back?
The stillness of the night only made his thoughts louder, and before long, sleep was an impossible task. He rose from the bed, quietly so as not to disturb Elizabeth, and found his feet carrying him through the darkened hallways of the house to the one place he had not visited in some time.
Eleanor’s room.
The door creaked open, and the familiar scent of lavender greeted him. The room had been preserved perfectly, as though waiting for its occupant to return at any moment. Nothing had been touched—her bed, her belongings, everything remained in its place, frozen in time.
Alexander stood in the doorway, his chest tightening with the familiar pang of grief. He stepped inside, his gaze roaming over the room. There was a soft light filtering in through the window, casting long shadows across the floor. Everything about the room reminded him of her, of the sister he couldn’t save, no matter how hard he had tried.
He moved to the bedside, his hand grazing over the coverlet. How long had it been since he last stood in this room? And yet, despite the passage of time, the pain felt as fresh as it had the day Eleanor passed.
Am I clinging to the past?The question gnawed at him, and for the first time, Alexander didn’t push it away. Perhaps Percy had been right. Perhaps he had allowed his grief, his guilt, to shape too much of his life.
The soft sound of footsteps broke through his thoughts, and he turned, startled to find Elizabeth standing in the doorway. Her figure was bathed in the dim light, and her expression was unreadable as she took in the sight of him in this place he had never shared with her before.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said softly, stepping further into the room.
For a brief moment, he considered sending her away, shielding her from the weight of his past, as he always had. But tonight, something was different. For the first time, he found that he didn’t mind her seeing this part of him, didn’t mind her witnessing the pain that had always been his alone to bear.
“Elizabeth,” he said, his voice low, laden with the vulnerability he had always tried to hide from her. “Do you think I’m clinging to the past? That I’m putting myself—and the people around me—through pain as a result?”
The words came out before he could stop them, and he realized he didn’t want to stop them. Hewantedher to know, to understand.
Elizabeth’s gaze softened, and she stepped closer, her presence a quiet comfort in the dimly lit room. “I think our pasts can become unnecessary weights if we allow them to,” she said gently, her tone free of judgment. “And perhaps we are better off dropping that weight and walking into whatever awaits us ahead.”
Her words sank into him, and for the first time in years, Alexander felt something shift inside him. There was no harshness in her tone, no expectation for him to be stronger or better. She simplyunderstood, and that understanding made something inside him loosen, unraveling the walls he had built around his pain.
“I made a promise to my father,” he began, his voice tight. “It was inside the wreckage… just before he took his last breath. I told him I would protect Eleanor, that I would keep her safe. But I failed.”
Elizabeth said nothing, allowing him to continue. Her silence wasn’t cold or detached, but filled with quiet encouragement.
“She nursed her wounds for a week after the accident,” Alexander continued, his voice thick with the memory. “We thought she might recover. The doctors... they tried everything. I tried everything. But nothing worked.” His voice cracked, the weight of the grief he had carried for so long suddenly becoming too much to bear. “She died, Liz. A painful death. And I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”
Elizabeth moved closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “It wasn’t your fault, Alex,” she said softly. “It was her time to go. Nothing you did—or didn’t do—could have changed that.”
“But I’d promised Father…” he choked out, the guilt tearing at him.
“I’m sure he understands,” Elizabeth replied, her voice soothing, yet steady. “He’s with her now. And I know they wouldn’t want you to keep blaming yourself for something that was never in your control.”
Alexander stood still, her words slowly sinking in. He had preserved Eleanor’s room, her memory, as if by doing so he could somehow make up for his failure. But the longer he kept this room untouched, the more painful it had become. The memories were no longer a source of comfort; they were chains, binding him to a time he could never change.
“Since I couldn’t save her,” he whispered, “I thought keeping this room for her would suffice. Preserving her memory, holding onto it… but it’s only made everything worse, hasn’t it?”
Elizabeth’s hand remained on his arm, steady and reassuring. “Memories can be painful when we don’t let them rest,” she said softly. “You don’t need to carry this burden anymore, Alex.”
As he stood there, in the room that had held his grief for so long, he realized that perhaps Percy and Elizabeth were right. Hewasclinging to the past, to a promise he couldn’t keep, to a burden that had only served to weigh him down.
A heavy sigh escaped him, and with it, some of the weight he had carried for years. He looked at Elizabeth, truly looked at her, and for the first time, he felt lighter. The guilt that had defined so much of his life suddenly seemed... smaller. Manageable.
Without thinking, he pulled her into his arms, holding her close, feeling her warmth against him. She didn’t speak, didn’t ask questions—she simply held him, her presence grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.
In that quiet moment, Alexander realized that perhaps he could let go of the past, that perhaps there was a future waiting for him—one that didn’t involve carrying the weight of guilt and loss.
For the first time, he felt as though he had shed that burden. And it was Elizabeth who had helped him do it.
CHAPTER 32
