Page 134 of Ironvine

“A pretence I grew to abhor. I didn’t realize how much I hated it until that night at the ball when I was told I was to marry Sir Reginald. I could feel an iron noose about my neck grow tighter and tighter.”

He handed her the fresh glass of brandy, and she took a gulp. “I find it is a great relief to know that my father being away was not about my lacking as a daughter or his inability to love me more or love me better. The time we had together was always well spent. I feel a kind of satisfaction and peace in the knowledge that he and the woman he truly loved lived their love to some measure.”

“Yet it did not last, Georgina. One random accident destroyed it all.”

“Yes, but look at them together.” She held up the painting and took in the man and woman at ease, enjoying a warm breezy summer’s day together. A stranger would think Sheffield has captured an ordinary moment in the life of an ordinary married couple, and yet to me this painting speaks of great, great things, significant things. It’s like music filling my ears, my very insides to bursting. How is it for you?”

Charles raised his glass at the painting. “I once knew that woman—carefree, at ease. Happy. But then it changed, all of it changed. She changed, she had to. I lost her, that woman.” He gulped at his drink. “That was not my father’s wife.”

“You are angry with her?”

He pounded his fist onto the table, his hair flying in his face, letters fluttered and spun off the table. “I am angry that she bore so many sorrows.”

“Tell me of her sorrows, Charles. I want to know her. I want to know you.”

“It was always difficult for me to know that my mother had never experienced affection from her husband, from any man. And now that I’ve learnt she did, I am pleased. I am. Yet my heart aches to know that she had been denied that happiness from the first. Denied the man she loved because her parents had their eye on a brighter star.” A sharp laugh escaped his lips. “That bright star was a demon who made her suffer abominably over and over again. And she endured it over and over again for me and Hugh.”

Her heart beat loudly in her chest at the tortured ache in his voice, the harsh gleam in his eyes. She wanted to take that horror from him, whatever it was. “I think your mother was incredibly brave to have left your father. She took a stand for what was right for her, a wholly uncommon thing for a woman to do to this very day. She made a bold choice and had the strength to broker a peace with her husband in order to maintain a relationship with her sons, and thankfully, your father agreed.”

“Yes, they forged a peace between them.” A contemptuous sneer etched his face, a bitter laugh fumed from his lips. “How delicate a word that is, my darling. How dignified. But their peace was none of those things.”

Each of his brutally bit out words battered at her chest. She wanted to wipe away the pain that now marred his features, tortured his soul, burdened his heart.

“The Earl of Ryvves might have given an inch in allowing her to live apart from him, and though that suited him greatly, his wife claiming what she wanted remained a burning insult. He was compelled to make her pay for her offence in a way that would please him and disgust her.”

Her skin crawled with cold sharp needles, her stomach knotted, but she held it all at bay. She would not betray her disquiet to him. He needed to tell his story at last. He needed her to listen, and she would. She would be his rock. “Tell me.”

“He was a cruel man, my father. His cruelty always had purpose. He let her go, but he enforced that she would never forget who owned her, who ruled over her dominion, who had supremacy in all things.” He swallowed more brandy and licked at his lips. “After they separated, she was allowed to see us here at Ironvine under supervision, once a month perhaps. And at the conclusion of every one of her visits, she would suffer his savage degradation.”

The knot in her stomach stung. “How did you know?”

He grabbed a bottle of port and filled his glass. “When I was very young, when my parents were still living together, I would often visit my mother in her chamber using the secret hallway and the false door. I’d visit her early in the morning or late at night. She would always have sweets and biscuits for us to eat together, and she’d read to me, tell me stories, we would laugh. Sometimes in the mornings, I would wait for when her lady’s maid would bring her tea and we would share her breakfast. Those were times of happiness. I had to steal them to have them.”

“After they had separated, a month later she came to Ironvine for her first allowed visit with her children. One weekend. I’d been both anxious and thrilled. But it went smoothly and I could tell she was relieved, as was I.

“On her last morning, I woke early and went to the secret hallway to wait for the servant to leave. But just as I reached the gib door, I heard his voice, and I froze. I peeked through the crack in the door. My father was in her chamber, speaking to her in that scornful and taunting tone that I knew meant he was building his argument, leading somewhere terrible.

“He’d asked her if she enjoyed her visit, and she’d said yes, that she was grateful to have spent time with her sons. That’s when he said, ‘your gratitude is nothing to me.’” Charles’s fist went to his chest. “I can still remember my heart pounding so hard in my chest. I even held my breath. I knew, I knew, she’d be punished somehow, that he’d force her to pay a dear price if she wished for these visits to continue.

“They argued, he called her terrible names. She said, “I hate you. I shall always hate you.” Charles’s eyes closed shut for a moment and then opened. “Father only laughed. Then he ordered her to get on all fours and lift her skirts.”

A small cry escaped Georgina’s lips.

“I pressed back against the wall, and I heard struggling, muffled grunts, fabric ripping. Then a smack, another, a harder slap. I waited and waited, but I did not hear her. I had to stay to hear her, to make sure she was all right. I had to know.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“I opened the door an inch more and could see the side of her face smashed into the bedding, her body jerking forward on the bed. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear his grunting, his foul language with his every forceful thrust.” He let out a ragged breath and drained his glass.

“Not one cry, not one scream. No begging, no pleading. She knew that’s what he wanted for his true satisfaction, and she would not grant it to him. She kept all her terror, her fear, her pain locked inside as her hands gripped that bedding. She would not let him break her.” He lifted his gaze to Georgina, his eyes heavy. “Yet in that moment, my heart broke forever. And yet… I was proud of her. Dear God, is that not perverse?”

“Because you knew the kind of monster he was. You knew how hard it was to bear.”

His head tilted, his chest heaved. “Yes, I knew. And that day my hope that it would stop died. Any hope died.” He wiped at his face, cleared his throat. “I finally managed to scramble down the secret passage to the back hallway like a rat chased by flames, down the stairs, and outside where I threw up, much to the footman’s horror.

“Out front, the servants were loading her trunks into her carriage. I waited and waited. Finally, she appeared, and I ran to her—to offer her my embrace, comfort…”

“And to be comforted yourself.”

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