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Aphrodite
When I had been alone thinking of sending the letter it had felt as though it were the only logical thing to do, but now I was not as sure.
“Was it really you?” Verity asked from behind me.
I turned to her. “Verity, I—”
“Do you understand how embarrassing it is to have a father like that or to have a family like this?” she asked with tears in her eyes. “I know you do not; you come from such a kind family. So I will tell you it is a very deep wound. One that we do our best to hide even though we know all the world is laughing. Do you know how mortifying it was to come out to the queen? I had practiced over and over again. Prepared and begged Datura not to come, but we knew she would anyway. How could she miss such a chance? I had to prepare myself for that. Prepare to walk out, on a day that was to be for my own glory, only to be the subject of mockery. And I was. For that is what this family has been all my life—the subject of talk and mockery.”
“I wanted to help and get the truth out,” I replied.
“The truth is out, but whether it helps anyone, I truly doubt. Did you even pause to think of me? Or Emeline?” she asked, looking at me. “For even I have questions. I did not know much of Emma. Nor did I understand how it was possible for my brother to stray from you when he loved you so. You have put doubt in my head of Emeline, and if I, who care for her, have it, then others shall as well. What will become of her when new twisted talk reaches her ears? How will you explain all this then?”
I had no words, for I had not thought that far.
She shook her head. “Excuse me.”
I watched as she ran up the stairs. When she was gone, I placed my hand on my face, not sure of what to do or say. I had not sought to hurt them. But I had, and now I was unsure of what I had unleashed.
All I could do was sit back down, shamefully, to reflect on my actions and wait for Evander to return. The longer I watched for his horse, the more anxious I felt, to the point where I felt sick as minutes turned to hours. By evening, he still was not home. Nor had I gotten any word. The whole house felt empty without him. I worried, knowing he was upset with me. So worried, in fact, I gave up watching the world outside and sought needlework to make Emeline another doll.
Knock. Knock.
“Come in,” I muttered as I fixed a knot. Eleanor entered with a tray of food. “I am not hungry.”
“Your Grace, you have not eaten.”
“Yes, as I am not hungry,” I replied as I threaded my needle into the back of the doll. “Has there been word of the duke?”
When she did not answer, I glanced up at her. But she was looking at me, her eyes transfixed, gripping the tray tightly.
“Eleanor, what is it?”
“Nothing. I shall return this to the kitchen then,” she stammered, as she was known to do when she lied, which was why she did her best not to.
“It surely does not seem like nothing,” I said and then quickly rose from my chair. “Has something happened to the duke?”
“No, of course not! I mean, I do not know anything of him.”
“Then why is your expression so? Are you all right?”
“Yes. Pardon me.” She curtsied and turned to leave but then paused and turned back to me.
“Now you have exposed yourself and must tell me,” I said, placing the doll down. “What is it?”
“There is talk,” she whispered.
“Of the papers?” I sighed. “Of course, I expected that.”
“No, Your Grace, of Mrs. Topwells.”
I stilled as nerves filled me, from my ankles and upward. “What of her?”
“They…they are saying she threw herself into the river.”
Oh…oh…
“Your Grace!” Eleanor rushed to me as I collapsed into a pile on the floor, my throat heavy and chest burning.
