Elsbeth shook her head. “Alfred may have his faults, but I don’t think he’s a murderer. What would he gain from killing my father?”
Niles hesitated. “He could marry your mother.”
“But if that’s the case, then my mother is complicit in this. What could she possibly have to gain?” Elsbeth asked.
Charles spoke up, his tone tinged with sorrow. “Freedom, perhaps. Your father wasn’t the man you thought he was, Elsbeth. He hurt your mother. Often.”
Elsbeth’s breath caught in her throat. “No. That’s impossible. My father would never lay a hand on her.”
Charles’s expression was somber. “I wish it weren’t true, but she confided in me. He made sure the bruises were hidden, but the pain was there. She even told me, at his funeral, that a part of her felt relieved that he was gone.”
Tears stung Elsbeth’s eyes. “Why didn’t she tell me? I would have believed her.”
“She wanted to shield you,” Charles revealed. “She thought she was doing the honorable thing by preserving his memory.”
Elsbeth’s voice wavered. “Everything I thought I knew about my father… it was all a lie.”
Niles placed a steadying hand on her arm. “Are you all right?”
“No,” she whispered, her gaze locking with his. “I’ve been such a fool.”
“You didn’t know,” Niles said softly. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“But I should have known,” Elsbeth insisted. “I was so caught up in the comforts of London, the balls, the gowns, the endless distractions... I failed to see what was right in front of me. I failed to see my own mother’s pain.”
Charles stepped forward. “That’s exactly what your mother wanted, Elsbeth. She wanted to shield you from his cruelty.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she hastily wiped it away. “I could have protected her,” she said, her voice trembling with regret. “I should have been there for her.”
“There was nothing you could have done,” Charles interjected, his tone resolute. “Your mother bore her pain alone because she didn’t want you to carry that burden.”
The walls of the narrow alley seemed to close in around her, the air thick and suffocating. Her chest tightened, and she struggled to draw a proper breath. Without saying another word, Elsbeth pushed past them, stepping out into the open street.
The crisp air hit her face as she stopped on the pavement, drawing in deep breaths to steady herself. She closed her eyes, ignoring the curious stares of passersby, and willed the tears to stop. But they came anyway, a reminder of her helplessness. When her mother had needed her most, she had been blind to her suffering. Blissfully unaware of the horrors her mother endured behind closed doors.
How could her father—her own father—have been so cruel? She had known he was distant, inattentive, even stern at times, but never had she imagined the monster lurking beneath his carefully curated façade.
And she had fallen for it.
The sound of footsteps behind her broke through her thoughts. She didn’t need to look to know it was Niles. “We should get you home,” he said, his hand brushing her arm with a tenderness that made her ache all the more.
“I think that’s a good idea,” she murmured, her voice barely audible as she fought to steady herself. The last thing she needed was to fall apart completely, especially not here in the open street where prying eyes could witness her vulnerability.
Niles stayed close as he guided her towards the waiting coach, his hand hovering near her arm in case she faltered. His presence was steady and reassuring, but his silence was what she appreciated most. She could feel his gaze, filled with a concern he wasn’t voicing, and for that, she was grateful. Pity was the last thing she wanted—or needed—right now.
As she reached the coach and placed a hand on the door, a familiar voice cut through the air. “Elsbeth.”
Her heart sank. She turned to see her mother descending the steps of the coaching inn, her hand resting lightly on Alfred’s arm. Her expression was curious, but there was a glimmer of concern in her eyes.
“Whatever are you doing here?” her mother asked.
Panic surged through Elsbeth. She opened her mouth, scrambling for a believable lie, but her thoughts were a tangled mess. Before she could stammer out a response, Niles stepped forward, his voice calm and composed. “We were just doing a bit of shopping,” he said smoothly, gesturing towards the general direction of the shops.
Her mother’s expression softened, and a smile touched her lips. “How lovely,” she said, clearly pleased by the explanation. “I shall see you at home, then.”
“Yes, home,” Elsbeth echoed.
Her mother’s smile faltered, and her brow knitted with concern. “Are you feeling all right, my dear?”
