Page 65 of To Know Miss May

All of them flashed through his mind.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe a word about any of it. “No,” he settled with instead. “Nothin’ be wrong.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“…death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.”

Julius Caesar, William Shakespeare

Livvy didn’t believe him. August could feel it. He didn’t blame her, either. He was apparently untrustworthy in every regard.

“I used to be quite social, ye know,” she said, graciously allowing his falsehood to fade away. “I used to attend every gatherin’ and loved talkin’ and playin’ games with the kids me age. But it all changed when Mother died.”

Her voice fell, and her eyes drifted up to the moon again, as if her mind could only focus on her mother by peering at the light in the night sky. “Kids started treatin’ me differently, obviously unsure of ’ow to speak to me any longer. I don’t blame ’em, ’course, as they were just kids themselves. But it was difficult to continue on as I did ’fore. ’Specially when the rumors began.” She eyed him sidelong. “I assume ye’ve ’eard ’em all.”

How August longed to deny the fact that he had heard them. Most of them centered around how Mrs. May had potentially died. There was talk of her falling ill to a mysterious sickness, whisperings of her running away from the Mount, even rumors of her taking her own life.

If August was being forced to lie about Mr. May’s request, however, then he was determined to be honest in every other way he could be.

“I ’ave,” he stated truthfully. “Though I be sorry to say it.”

She nodded, unsurprised. “Father was beside ’imself after ’er death. ’E couldn’t speak with anyone, so the burden fell on me own shoulders to tell the Mount what ’ad ’appened. E’en when I told the truth ’bout her death, though, no one believed me.”

She stopped, and August hesitated once again. He knew he shouldn’t press her. He knew he shouldn’t ask her questions that might make her uncomfortable. And yet, a part of him—a very small part of him that he was allowing to have free rein for a moment—wished to sabotage their relationship from continuing forward, if only to sever ties so he no longer had to lie to her. If she lost her trust in August, he would always live with that regret. But at least Nicholas and Emma would be safe.

“And what be the truth?” he asked softly, regretting his nerve at once. He didn’t deserve to know such a fact at all.

To his surprise and a small amount of dismay—and a large deal of relief—Livvy didn’t appear offended at all. “I told others that Mother died of a fever that ’ad taken its toll on ’er body, and she simply couldn’t recover.” She kept her eyes on the moon. “But that be only a partial truth. Mother died ’cause she no longer wished to live.”

August’s mouth dried, his stomach roiling in sorrow for the woman standing before him.

“’Course, people were naturally curious,” she continued, “and naturally suspicious. They took to spreadin’ their own ideas of ’ow she died. I don’t blame ’em. She’d been so young. Seemingly so ’ealthy. ’Ow could she ’ave died of an illness? But I watched as the life faded from ’er eyes day by day ’til there was nothin’ left but emptiness.”

He winced at the hollowness of her tone. “Were ye there when she died?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, I was the only one. She spoke to me ’bout—” Her words ended abruptly, and she averted her gaze. “’Bout ’er life.”

August was certain she’d been about to say something else, but he allowed her to remain silent on the matter. She was already pushing herself a great deal, that much was clear.

“Where was your father?” he asked instead, doing his best not to judge the man, though his opinion about Mr. May had already been secured in stone within the confines of his soul.

“’E was sleepin’ off ’is drink,” she replied simply.

Another stone slid deeply into the wall that was swiftly being built in anger against the man.

“I didn’t expect ’im to join me for the funeral,” she continued, “but I be glad that ’e did, if only so I wouldn’t be alone. That be when I first ’eard the rumors, overhearin’ folks talk about the way Mother left earth. When the children started pokin’ me for answers—no doubt doin’ their mothers’ biddin’—I couldn’t take it any longer. I retreated, locked meself inside me ’ome with no desire to e’er leave again.”

She paused, though August wished for her to continue, if only to keep his mind occupied instead of dwelling on the miserable fact that he’d been entirely and utterly unaware of the grief this woman had felt right next door to him his entire life.

How could he have been so obtuse, so full of his own concerns and worries? He was ashamed of his stupidity.

“So there ye ’ave it,” she said with a sigh. “The sorrowful tale o’ the Hermit of the Mount. I took comfort in books, they gave me labels, and I’ve maintained ’em e’er since.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “I s’pose I deserve ’em labels, though. I ’aven’t made much effort to befriend anyone in the last ten years. If I did, they’d just be scared away ’cause o’ them rumors and me strange behavior.”

In all honesty, August couldn’t even begin to picture Livvy scaring anyone off. She was far too kind. Far too thoughtful. But then, was that only with him, like Mr. May had said?

“I still be ’ere,” he said softly.

Livvy glanced up at him. “Shockingly enough. But who knows ’ow long ye’ll last. E’en Father ’as been scared away from me.”