Page 70 of When She Was a Governess
“What do you think she wants? In truth?” Sophia asked.
“That I cannot be fully certain of.” A nagging worry crept up the back of his spine as the voice of the devil whispered in his ear.She wants Amelia.That is why she had come. Perhaps to punish him. Perhaps to take what she felt was rightfully hers. But he kept this to himself for now. He did not want his sensitive and gentle wife to worry overmuch until he knew more. “However, I intend to find out. We will send them home as soon as possible.” He kissed her. “Please, try not to worry. This is our home. Our marriage. Our life. And no one—not even my mother—is going to take that from us. I promised your brothers I would not let her hurt you, and I intend to keep that promise.”
*
After Sophia leftto prepare for dinner, Henry sent a footman to the blue suite requesting his parents’ company. Immediately.
He paced while he waited, his mind churning with barely contained rage. Four hours. Four hours his mother had Sophiaalone to work her poison. And Amelia—his sweet, innocent Amelia—subjected to that cold, assessing stare.
The library door opened. His mother swept in first, dressed for dinner in a dark purple gown. His father followed, looking uncomfortable but resigned.
“Henry.” His mother’s smile was all politeness. “How good to see you. It’s been far too long.”
“Sit down.” He didn’t return her smile.
“Such a warm welcome for your parents.” But she sat in one of the leather chairs by the fire, arranging her skirts with deliberate precision. His father took the chair beside her.
Henry remained standing, using the height advantage. “Why are you here?”
“Can’t a mother visit her son?” Constance’s tone was light, but her eyes were sharp. “Especially when she learns, via letter, I might add, that he’s married? We wanted to meet your new wife.”
“You wanted to intimidate her.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Constance said.
His father shifted uncomfortably. “Henry, perhaps if you’d told us more about how this all came to be.”
“And why you kept it from us,” Constance said. “All very suspicious.”
“I didn’t tell you because I knew this would happen.” Henry turned his gaze to his father. “Because Mother would find some way to poison it. Just like she poisoned everything with Eleanor.”
No one spoke for a second or two.
“Eleanor.” His mother’s voice was soft, dangerous. “Is that what this is about? You’re still carrying that torch after all these years?”
“I know what you did, Mother. You killed Eleanor.” The words came out flat, cold. “You visited her while I was inLondon. You forged letters in my handwriting. You threatened her father’s living. You told her she was ruining my life and that the kindest thing she could do was let me go. And she believed you. She walked into the sea because you convinced her it was the loving thing to do.”
His father’s face had gone pale. “Henry, you can’t possibly think that is true.”
“I don’t think. I know.” He paused. “Eleanor left a note, Mother. Did you know that? She apologized to me. Said she was setting me free because you’d convinced her she was a burden I couldn’t afford. She told me everything you did. Father, you are a fool to think otherwise. Do you not see what she does? To her own children?”
Constance’s expression didn’t change. “That poor, fragile girl. Such a tragedy. But Henry, surely you can see that she was unstable. Unfit to be your wife. I was trying to help you.”
“Help me.” Henry’s laugh was bitter. “You murdered her. You drove a sweet, innocent woman to her death because she wasn’t good enough for your standards. Because she was a vicar’s daughter with no fortune or connections.”
“I did no such thing. If Eleanor was so weak-minded that she couldn’t withstand simple scrutiny, then that is hardly my fault.”
“Stop.” Henry’s voice cracked like a whip. “Don’t you dare blame her for what you did. She was nineteen years old. Sheltered. In love. And you preyed on that. You manipulated her until she believed dying was the only option.”
His mother pulled her hanky from her sleeve, as if she were about to cry, but he knew better. It was all part of her act. “I see you’ve created quite a story for yourself. A way to absolve your own guilt, perhaps? You left her alone, Henry. You went to London when she needed you. If anyone drove her to that beach, it was you.”
He felt suddenly light-headed. Dark spots played before his eyes. A dart of pain pinged the back of his head, as if someone had stabbed him with a sharp knife.
In the dark years after Eleanor’s death, he had believed it was his fault. That he should have done more. Perhaps it was so, but it did not change the facts. His mother had purposely tortured Eleanor until she felt she had no choice.
“No, Mother. You are lying. Perhaps to yourself. Perhaps not. Rebecca always claimed you knew exactly what you were doing at all times. I made excuses for you, but I know the truth now. Just as I know the truth about Eleanor. I loved her. I would have protected her if I’d known what you were doing. The guilt is yours, Mother. Yours alone. And I will not let you do the same thing to Sophia.”
“Sophia.” Constance’s lip curled slightly. “The governess. How very practical of you. Even as a boy, you always chose the most logical path. Did she seduce you? Or did you simply realize you needed a mother for Amelia and she was conveniently placed? If only you would have waited for the Season. I had several women picked out for you. Women of noble birth.”
