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All Elizabeth did was smile sweetly at him.
William sighed again, though his heart expanded at the beauty of such a smile. “Very well, then, Harold. Do what the lady says.”
Harold bowed. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“However, once I am through with breakfast, you and I should have a little talk.”
He bowed again. “I look forward to it, Your Grace.”
Surprise rushed through him once more as he watched Harold take his leave. Elizabeth took his hand, catching his gaze.
“Come,” she said. “The meal has already been brought inside.”
William allowed her to lead him inside, still baffled by Harold’s actions. “I see you and Harold have grown quite close.”
“Not particularly,” Elizabeth said, making her way over to the armchairs to the left of the room. “I believe we have found a common theme of interest however.”
“And that is?”
“Our concern for you.” She sank into a plush armchair and instantly reached for a cup of tea. The meal was spread out on the end table sitting between the rows of chair, with enough food to feed five people. William, without thinking, reached for the bowl of porridge and began to eat, watching as Elizabeth daintily sipped her tea.
“I don’t think you realize, William,” she continued when she noticed him staring, “just how worried you made us when you came home last night. Even now I cannot help but fear for you seeing how much darker your bruises have become.”
He touched his face. Indeed, he’d caught sight of his image in the looking glass in his bedchamber and had grimaced at how nasty it looked. “Yes, I suppose it would warrant some concern.”
“Some?” she echoed, raising a brow. “When I think about what could have happened if things had not gone the way they had, it feels as if stones are sinking into the pit of my stomach. I’m only grateful that you made it out without any serious harm.”
“As am I,” he murmured truthfully. He hadn’t expected to begin breakfast with a lecture from her, but he supposed he deserved it. He had acted a bit rashly, though he was not completely certain how else he could have gotten out of such a situation. “Enough about that,” he said. “There is something I would like to speak with you about.”
Elizabeth lifted her eyes to his, filling with curiosity. “What is it?”
Suddenly, he felt nervous. Last night, she’d been tentative to show him her scars, to let him see her insecurity. Now, William felt the very same way. “It is about why I left you seven years ago.”
Elizabeth straightened, quickly putting down her cup. She bore her gaze into him, intent. “Will you finally tell me?”
“I do not think it would be right of me to withhold that information any longer. Not to mention the fact that you are likely to hound me about it whenever you get the chance.”
She scooted to the edge of her seat. “Please, go ahead.”
William’s flaccid joke hung in the air before he sighed. Steeling himself, he began, “I am not sure where I should start. I suppose it is best to begin from the day my mother died, though it truly started when my father left England.”
“I remember her,” Elizabeth murmured. “She’d always been so kind to me.”
“She was very fond of you,” he went on, his stomach churning. Whenever he pictured his mother’s smiling face and happy green eyes, he felt sick to his stomach. “She would always tell me that when I became old enough, I should do whatever I could to treat you right. She told me that a gentleman should always take care to put the happiness of his lady first.”
“She...she knew about us?”
“She suspected, but I never got the chance to truly tell her how I felt about you back then. Now that I remember her words, I feel even more terribly for how I’ve treated you.”
“I’m sure you had your reasons,” she said gently. Elizabeth’s eyes were kind as she urged him to continue.
William drew in a shuddering breath. He kept eating, taking small bites so that it was difficult to speak. He didn’t know why he was doing so, considering he could not taste anything that went into his mouth, but he continued all the same.
“The day my mother passed away was the day I lost a piece of myself. It had only been two months after the passing of Lady Gillet. Mother had always been such a jovial lady. Because her husband was not around, she would surround herself by friends and other family. She would never allow herself to be alone and I truly believed that she was happy. That was...until I found her dead in her bed with an empty bottle of laudanum on the bedside table.”
Elizabeth gasped, her hand flying to her lips. William was already far too lost in the past to pay much attention to it.
