“Yes, Miss Shirley,” Trixie replied quickly, straightening at once.
Amelia gave a short nod. “Good. Stay vigilant.” She hesitated only a moment longer before stepping away from the nursery, her heart heavy but steadying with resolve.
He must not see her yet. Not until we know what this means.
When she returned to the study, the atmosphere had shifted. Gabriel stood closer to the fireplace now, his posture tense, while Valerie remained seated but visibly restless. And then Amelia saw her.
Helen Warring stood across the room, composed and still, like a figure carved from certainty. Lady Provie was nearby, watching everything with narrowed eyes, though she said nothing. The tension between all four of them pressed heavily against the walls.
Gabriel was speaking as Amelia entered. “Valerie, you should leave the room,” he said firmly but not unkindly. “This is not a discussion for you to witness.”
Valerie immediately straightened, her chin lifting in defiance. “No,” she said clearly. “I am not a child anymore. I will not be sent away like one.”
Gabriel’s gaze sharpened. “Valerie…”
Amelia stepped forward gently before the moment could fracture further.
“She is right,” she said quietly, looking at Gabriel. “She should stay.”
Valerie turned to her in surprise, clearly relieved. Gabriel’s eyes flicked to Amelia, uncertainty breaking through his controlled exterior for the first time that night.
A long silence followed. Then Gabriel exhaled slowly, as though conceding not out of agreement but necessity. “Very well,” he said at last. “You may remain.”
Valerie nodded once, her expression set, and Amelia felt a strange mixture of pride and unease tighten in her chest. Whatever came next, none of them would be untouched by it. And as Helen Warring finally stepped forward into the center of the room, Amelia understood with sudden clarity that the true reckoning had only just begun.
Helen scoffed, “You take orders from your governess?”
“Helen, say what you came to say,” Gabriel said with a stern look.
“You have grown,” Helen said at last to Valerie, her voice calm, almost conversational.
Valerie flinched slightly beside Amelia, though she did not step back.
“You left,” Gabriel replied flatly. “That tends to happen.”
A faint, humorless smile touched Helen’s lips. “And yet here we are.”
Amelia’s fingers tightened at her sides. The air in the room felt too tight, too charged, as though any sudden movement might shatter something already cracked. She glanced toward Valerie and saw the girl struggling to maintain her composure, chin lifted but eyes bright with emotion she refused to show.
Helen turned slightly then, her attention shifting between them all. “I did not come here to argue,” she said simply. “I came to see my children.”
No one moved an inch.
“Will you not hug your mother? I thought you would be glad to see me,” Helen said.
Helen’s smile softened into something almost maternal as she turned towards Valerie, but Amelia could not help thinking the expression looked carefully practiced rather than sincere. The room remained so quiet that even the ticking of the mantel clock sounded unnaturally loud. Amelia found herself silently willing Valerie to remain strong, even as her own heart ached for the girl. No child should ever be forced to choose between longingfor a mother and protecting herself from one. She clasped her hands tightly together, resisting the urge to cross the room and stand beside Valerie.
“Haven’t you anything to say to me?” Helen asked gently, extending one gloved hand towards her daughter. Her voice was warm enough to deceive a stranger. “Will you not come and embrace your own mother?” She tilted her head ever so slightly, her smile never faltering. “Surely we have lost enough years already.”
Valerie did not move an inch. Instead, she lifted her chin with quiet dignity, her hands folded neatly before her despite the slight tremble in her fingers.
“The time when I needed a mother is long gone,” she replied, her voice calm but edged with years of buried pain. She swallowed before continuing, refusing to lower her gaze. “You forfeited the right to that title the moment you hurt David.”
Helen’s smile faded at last.
Valerie drew a slow breath, her eyes glistening though no tears escaped. “The woman I called Mother died years ago,” she said, her voice growing firmer with every word as she looked Helen squarely in the eye.
“Ever since that day… You have remained dead to me.” She gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of her head. “I mourned you once. I shall not do so again.”
