“I would not dream of such an assumption,” Sebastian said, though Augusta detected more than a hint of sarcasm.
The look that his mother cast did not abate even as she turned on her heels and strode back toward the stairs, ascending them so quickly that she appeared almost as a ghost. It was then that Augusta saw a shadow on the landing quickly retreat into a darkened hallway - Georgie, no doubt, listening in on the chastisement of her elder brother.
In all of her thinking on the shame that her actions might bring, Augusta had always found herself dwelling on the ire of the faceless, shapelesstonas a whole. It was only now that she realized that she would have to win back the affections of people who actually cared about her, however much they might appear to support her. They had, through no fault of their own, become caught up in her scandal. She owed them something for that.
Next to her, Sebastian sighed. “It appears she will not be casting us off today. Let us go and get settled, before she changes her mind.”
He said it with a level of cheekiness, but as he forged ahead, Augusta knew that his words could so easily have become a reality. Did she not, then, owe him something too?
She did not want to think too hard upon it, and so she followed him in silence, resolving to display some additional kindnesses toward her husband, so that the nagging voice in her mind might be appeased.
*****
It had been a week, and Augusta had been nothing but kind to her healing husband.
She hated it.
Not the kindness, so much. It was nice to continue the good graces that they had found before the rally, to no longer feel that burning hatred every time she sensed that he was near. She was happy to move forward in this part of their relationship.
No, she hated the formality of it. Each night they shared a bed with respectful space between them. Each morning they said, “Good morning,” and nodded politely at one another. Each afternoon they walked the grounds as far as the weather would allow them, speaking only on pleasant topics.
Every second that they spent together, Augusta saw the restraint in her husband’s posture. After kissing her so lovingly their first night back in Derbyshire, he had not laid a hand upon her. Even during their promised sleigh rides together, he did not place his arm around her, but kept to himself. Augusta should have been pleased. Instead, she was utterly bereft.
She knew that he was waiting for her to approach him, and she did not know if she had the courage to do so.
And why not? She had done nothing wrong. Though she’d wondered and worried for days after their arrival that her speech had only incited violence and rage, it was a letter from Lord Bancroft, which had arrived the morning prior, that had put all of those fears to rest.
I write this on my way north, where you shall see my sorry face in due time. I might have said all this to you in person, but it has never been my way to say anything too truthful aloud. Therefore, it will all be contained within this letter, and it would be best if it were never mentioned again.
In truth, you were brilliant. I’ll only say it once.
So brilliant that the Tories have taken notice. Not that I have much intimate knowledge of my own party anymore - my presence at the rally has, predictably, shunned me from all subsequent gatherings. To hell with them - they were all cuckholds anyways.
I have heard secondhand that there is already change brewing, no doubt from pressure from some of the wives who have been influenced by your speech. They will, no doubt, find themselves at their own rallies soon enough, goaded by henpecking.
All this to say something that could be stated much more plainly:
Damn the ton, and do as you please.
Their ire comes as quickly as it goes, and is frequently replaced with admiration once the patina of time has clouded their memories of events. They will no longer call you brazen, but bold. They are fickle, requiring only another scandal before the last is forgotten. Should your speech inspire change in law, they will adjust, and claim that they always knew it was the right thing to do.
I will be in Derbyshire presently. Please tell that husband of yours that he owes me a game of cards.
Augusta kept that letter in the top drawer of her desk, and each time she opened it for a pen or fresh paper, she smiled at the letter. Somehow, Bancroft had wormed his way into her good graces, though she doubted he would stay there for any great length of time.
In forgiving him, it had become clear to Augusta that she had already forgiven Sebastian. Her hesitance to act on the urges she had felt since the rally - to walk up to her husband and kiss him deeply, and let him take her to their room and stay there for a great long while - had largely been due to uncertainty.
If she forgave so openly, therefore giving Sebastian what he hadwanted since that dreadful night in the library, would he truly take responsibility for her heart? Would he treat it differently in the future, or would it only be a matter of time before he broke it again?
These were the things she sat and thought about on an oddly warm winter’s day, wherein the sun threatened to melt the topmost layer of snow and, indeed, had already melted a large part of the trails around her new home. It had allowed her to sneak away on her own and find a lovely bench to sit on, whereupon the sun could shine on her face and she could think of her troubles uninterrupted for a time.
She had been ruminating for nearly an hour when the crunch of dead leaves nearby pulled her back to earth. Holding up her hand to block the sun’s rays, she saw the form of their neighbor, Lord Harris, walking toward her on the trail.
She was surprised to see the man. He and Lady Harris had recently welcomed a son into the world, and most of Derbyshire had not seen hide nor hair of them since.
“Good morning,” the gentleman said as he made eye contact with Augusta. He approached, coming to sit on the bench next to her. It was at that point that she noticed the pallor of his skin and the bags beneath his eyes.
“Good morning,” she replied. “Have you just come from seeing Lord Brightwater?”
