nine
Two weeks had passed since the night they had helped Samuel leave the circus, twelve days since she had seen him tied to the captain’s bed.
Captain Jackson had sent a message to her through Dobkins, saying Samuel was faring well, but seeing him wouldn’t be a good idea, and after what Vivienne had witnessed, she didn’t argue. The police were still looking for Lion Boy, and photographs of Samuel—dirty, with wild, long hair, and looking like a murderer—filled every newspaper and street poster.
And that was pretty much the only good news of the past weeks because going to the cemetery with her parents took a time already fraught with worry, and weighed her down further.
Dirt covered Adele’s name on the tombstone. Father placed a large bouquet of white roses on the grave. Mother clenched the silver box against her chest, her face pale and looking frail.
Years had passed since her sister’s death, but every time Vivienne visited Adele’s grave, the pain hurt her as fresh as ever. When she was at home, taken by her daily routine, the pain remained dull. But there was no escaping from the truth in front of the cold gravestone.
Father swallowed hard but didn’t say anything.
Mother caressed the tombstone. “Lady Grenville told me I should stop feeling pain for Adele’s death.You have four sons and four daughters, she said,Adele wasn’t your only child.”
Father wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “People don’t understand. Don’t waste time on their words.”
Vivienne stood next to her mother. While she found Lady Grenville’s words indelicate and hurtful, there was some truth in them. Mother hadn’t moved forwards. She’d stopped living. She’d stopped being a mother. She was a wraith fuelled by grief.
“I’ll keep mourning my child for as long as I breathe,” Mother said.
Vivienne held her hand. “We all miss Adele?—”
“No, it’s not true. I’m the only one who still thinks about her. Your brothers and sisters go to dinner parties and holidays abroad, and celebrate their children’s birthdays. They aren’t wearing black.” She turned to Father then Vivienne. “Neither of you are.”
“To keep living and enjoying my grandchildren doesn’t mean I forgot my daughter,” Father said. “Or that our sons and daughters forgot her. Exactly because they understand how fickle life is, they want to spend time with their own children. You can’t blame them for that.”
“So you agree with Lady Greenville.” Mother slid her hand out of Vivienne’s. “I should stop mourning.”
“No.” Father took her by the shoulders. “I want you to live your life again. You have us. You have grandchildren, who want to be with you. You have a family who loves you.Ilove you, Jane.”
“And I should betray Adele? My own blood?”
Vivienne drew in a shaky breath. “Mother?—”
“You were right. No one understands.” Mother turned and hurried along the gravel path towards the main gate.
Father exhaled. “I didn’t mean to upset her.”
“It’s not your fault. She lives in her world of pain, shutting us out. There’s nothing we can say that would make her feel better. She doesn’t want to feel better. She would feel guilty.”
“I’m worried about you.” Father took her arm, and together they walked towards the gate. “She suffocates you with rules and fears. She argues every time you want to leave the house, and you haven’t had your Season. I confess I don’t know what to do with her. I have tried to be patient. I have tried to talk to her. Nothing has worked.”
“I just hope…”
“What?” He paused to stare at her.
“Am I a bad sister for wanting to be happy again? A bad daughter? I loved Adele. I’ll always cherish her memory, but I want to smile and be happy.”
“Darling.” Father hugged her. “You aren’t a bad sister, much less a bad daughter. Live your life and be happy. Adele would have wanted that.” He kissed the top of her head.
She walked next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.
Yet she wondered if she was doing the right thing.
After days spent feeling sick,confused, and in pain, Samuel—he had a name now—felt human, maybe for the first time in his life.
The difference between before and after cleansing his blood was striking. His mind was clear, and his skin didn’t itch. The downside was that there was nothing to shield his mind from the painful memories. His sleep was light and troubled, and since his feelings weren’t numbed anymore, his shame increased tenfold.
