Page 51 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
Dahlia’s hand went to her heart.
A carriage accident?
Dahlia recalled the wild determination in Peter’s eyes as he chased after her hijacked carriage that not so long-ago night. When the carriage had been stopped, he had seemed so angry at her. At the time, of course, Dahlia could not understand where his anger was coming from. It all made sense now. She reached out and took Mary’s hand.
“The weather was much colder than this. Mother was on her way to one of the tenant’s houses. There was a newborn, you see. And Peter was home from university for the Christmas Holidays. When he heard that she was to go calling on the tenant, he planned to accompany her, but she told him not to. He had always blamed himself. He said that if he had gone with her maybe—maybe he could have saved her.”
Mary wiped at the wetness in her eyes. She took a moment then continued.
“We were young then, but I remember well when they told us what had happened.”
“I am so sorry. I can only imagine the pain of such a loss.” This time, Dahlia reached for Claire’s hand too.
It was Claire who continued when she saw that Mary could not.
“It was a while before the carriage was found. And the doctor—well, he said he couldn’t be sure if mother passed away because of her injuries or because of the cold.” Claire paused as if to catch her breath then continued, “We didn’t know all this back then of course; nobody really explained to us how mother died.”
“How did you find out?”
“From father, a year later. I don’t think he meant to tell us; I don’t think he even knew that Mary and I were there when he started talking about it.”
“He was in his cups,” Mary clarified, seeing the question in Dahlia’s eyes. “He went in the library, a drink in his hand and just started talking to himself. Claire and I were in the alcove reading.”
“And Peter?” Dahlia asked tentatively.
“Poor Peter.” Claire sighed. “He was three and twenty when we lost mother.”
Barely a man.
“Mother’s passing deeply affected us all but in different ways,” Claire continued. “But when father died two years after mother, Peter was never the same.”
“Your parents loved each other then?”
“Oh, yes, very much so; theirs was a love match.” Claire chuckled at the memory that appeared in her mind. “I remember thinking how disgusting it was that they kissed so often—in front of us children even!”
Humor left her face as she continued.
“Peter, he was—well he was left with a mark. He became a different man. He had to take care of father as well as us, I imagine. Before that he was a fun older brother wasn’t he, Claire?”
Her twin nodded.
“Whenever he would come home from university, he always made sure to spend time with us. He was never too old for dolls, or pirate adventures. But after mother passed he became an adult very quickly. And then father passed too. Peter, he became… well, the way he is now.” Mary smiled sadly at her.
Dahlia was at a loss for words. Knowing what she now knew, she understood better now.
“That must have been a miserable time for you as well. You lost both parents and in some ways, a brother as well.”
The twins both nodded.
“At least we still had each other during those times.” Claire took her sister’s hand. “We were never alone.”
“But you withdrew from your brother too, didn’t you?”
Again, they nodded.
“It was easier when we did not have to show our grief to anyone else, Peter already had so much to worry about. So, we hid ours from him.”
Dahlia swallowed at the thickness in her throat. She could see them as young girls, grieving the gradual loss of their family.
