Page 76 of When She Was a Governess
“Don’t leave him alone.” Mrs. Shaw’s expression was fierce. “My lady, Mrs. Bromley has shared Lord Montrose’s troubles—how they nearly lost him. How long it took him to act a little like himself. But it was not until you that he truly came back to life. Lord Montrose has been alone with his demons for too long. He needs you. Even if he pushes you away, you must remain resolute. The two of you have a great love, even if it surprised you both. Go to him. Reassure him that you are his wife and that you love him, no matter what happened in his past.”
“But he asked me to leave him be,” Sophia said.
“Because he’s ashamed. He thinks he’s protecting you by pushing you away. He doesn’t believe he deserves comfort.” Mrs. Shaw took Sophia’s hands. “You must force him to talk to you. Make him see that he’s not alone anymore. You must go now.”
Fear shot through Sophia. “You don’t think he’d—” No, it was too much to think about. He would not leave her. He’d promised to protect her. To love her.
“You’re right. I’ll go to him now,” Sophia said. “Wish me luck.”
“You will not need luck, my lady. You have love in your heart. It will be enough.”
Sophia stepped into the corridor, her heart pounding. The house was quiet—the servants had likely retreated to give the family privacy after the scene at dinner. She walked down the stairs, through the entrance hall, toward the study.
Light showed under the door. She paused, gathering her courage. Then she knocked.
No answer.
She knocked again, louder. “Henry. I’m coming in.”
Still nothing. She opened the door anyway. The study was dim, lit only by the dying fire. Henry sat slumped in a chair, a whiskey glass in one hand, an empty decanter on the table beside him. He didn’t look up when she entered.
“I asked you to leave me alone,” he said.
“I know.” Sophia closed the door behind her and moved closer. “But I am unable to do so.”
“Sophia, please. Just… go.”
“No.” She knelt beside his chair, forcing him to look at her. His eyes were red-rimmed, unfocused. “No, Henry. I’m not leaving you alone.”
“You should.” His laugh was bitter. “You should run as far from me as you can. Before it’s too late. Before I drag you down with me.”
“It’s already too late.” She took the whiskey glass from his hand and set it aside. “My love, I am your wife. There is nothing you cannot share with me. Nothing that will taint my opinion of you.”
He put his face into his hands, speaking through his fingers. “I should have told you. But I carry such shame.”
“You mustn’t feel that way. Not with me.” Her voice was fierce as she placed her hands around his wrists, gently tugging his hands from his face. “Please, talk to me. Tell me everything. I am here to listen, not judge.”
He lifted his gaze to hers. The pain in them took her breath away. “I am not worthy of you. But I will tell you everything, if that is truly what you wish.”
“Please.” She rose to sit in the chair next to him.
He closed his eyes. “The guilt consumed me. I stopped going out. Stopped managing the estate. My brother Edward andCharlotte’s husband Thomas had to step in on my behalf because I couldn’t leave my rooms.”
“How long were you like this?”
“Months and months. Time stopped meaning anything.” He opened his eyes, staring at the embers in the hearth. “At night, when the rest of the house was asleep, I started going to the cliffs, looking at the sea that had taken her life. I’d stand there for hours, looking down at the rocks and the water. Wondering what she’d felt in those last moments. Wondering if she’d been afraid. If she’d thought of me. If, as the water filled her lungs, she regretted what she’d done.”
Sophia’s heart ached, but she kept her expression steady.
“One night, Davies followed me. I do not know how he knew that I had decided I would jump, down to the craggy rocks below. It would be my punishment for what I had done to Eleanor.”
“Oh, Henry.”
“But just as I was gathering the courage to jump, Davies called out to me. He ran to me and yanked me from the edge. And then he told me about his father. He had ended his own life when Davies was fifteen years old. There were no practical reasons. No debt or scandal. He had a good job as a valet for a wealthy family. Yet it did not seem to matter. He left a wife and several children without means of support. Davies said, to this day, he could not understand why, but he had come to understand it was not his fault. Or his mother’s. It was simply something from which he could not be saved. Davies said his family never fully recovered. He told me, fairly bluntly, that if I were to do this, I would leave behind many people who loved me. Who would have to live with what I’d done.”
“And did this help you?” Sophia asked.
“Yes, it did.” Henry sighed, continuing to look into the fire. “Davies led me home. Ran me a bath. Put me to bed, as if I werea child. The next day, Thomas and Edward came to me. They wanted me to go to a sanatorium. An inquiry had led them to a Dr. Morrison. He ran a private facility for people who could no longer cope with life.” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at his drink. “I agreed to go.”
