Page 73 of When She Was a Governess
“Mother.” His voice came out strangled. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what, darling? Share the truth?” She looked at Sophia. “He was in such a dark place. We had no choice but to seek professional help. For his own safety.”
“Stop. Not another word.” Henry glared at his mother. “I mean it.”
“Hush now.” Constance’s voice was steel wrapped in silk. “I’m sure Sophia deserves to know whom she’s married. A man who spent six months at Dr. Morrison’s private sanatorium. A man who was so broken by grief that he had to be looked after.”
“I know all about Henry’s past,” Sophia said. “We keep nothing from each other. He told me all about Doctor Morrison.”
He had not, in fact, told her about the sanatorium or Doctor Morrison. But the fact that she was willing to lie for him almost made this better. But not quite.
“Did he tell you how he almost jumped from the cliff?” Constance asked. “How one of the servants had to save him?”
The room spun. He felt as if he could not breathe.
“That was a long time ago,” Henry said. “I was grieving. I recovered.”
“Did you?” Constance leaned back in her chair, looking supremely confident now that she’d drawn blood. “Or did you simply learn to hide it better? Because I must wonder—is a man with such a history truly fit to raise a child? Particularly a child as vulnerable as Amelia?”
And there it was. The real attack.
“What are you saying?” Henry’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“I’m saying I have concerns. About your stability. About your judgment. About whether a traumatized man who once tried to follow his first love into the sea should be trusted with my granddaughter’s welfare.” She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “My solicitors tell me these concerns are quite relevant in custody matters.”
The same pain from earlier stabbed the back of his head. “You’ve hired solicitors.” It wasn’t a question.
“Of course I have. The moment I received your letter about the marriage. You see, Rebecca may have excluded me from her will, but the law does make provisions for concerned grandparents. Particularly when the guardian has a documented history of mental instability.”
“You’re going to try to take Amelia.” His vision blurred. All moisture from his mouth evaporated.
“I’m going to do what’s best for my granddaughter. What my poor, confused daughter should have done from the beginning.Amelia belongs with family who can provide stability. Not with a broken man and his—” she glanced at Sophia, “—convenient new wife.”
“That’s enough.” Sophia’s voice cut through the room like a blade. She stood, her hands shaking but her chin high. “You will not speak about my husband that way. Not in our home. Not at our table.”
“How touching. But my dear, you barely know him. You’ve been married three days. How much can he really have told you about his past? About the darkness he carries? About the fact that his own brother had to have him committed?”
“Edward didn’t have me committed,” Henry said, his voice raw. “I went voluntarily. Because I was in pain and I needed help. There’s no shame in that.”
“Isn’t there?” Constance’s smile was cruel. “Then why didn’t you tell your wife? Why did she have to learn about it from me?”
“I just told you—he and I have no secrets,” Sophia said.
“How shall I say this?” Constance asked. “I don’t believe you.”
Henry looked at Sophia. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears.
“It doesn’t matter what you think or believe,” Sophia said. “Whatever happened in Henry’s past doesn’t change who he is now. It doesn’t change that he’s a great man. A wonderful father to Amelia.”
“A good father.” Constance laughed. “We’ll see what the courts think about that. My solicitors are very thorough. They’re documenting everything. The hasty marriage. Your questionable background, my dear. Henry’s history of instability. It builds quite a picture, doesn’t it?”
“Get out.” Henry’s voice was deadly quiet. “Get out of this house. Now.”
“We’re leaving in the morning, as you requested—”
He slammed his glass into the table and his mother actually flinched. “No. Now. I want you gone. Tonight. Immediately.”
“Henry, you must calm yourself,” his father said.
