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“If you wished to talk, then you should have come to me instead of invading my privacy by reading my most intimate thoughts at a time when I had no one else to share them with,” he said with so much pain that it made her heart crack.
“Arthur, I…” she started, wanting to tell him how sorry she was for what she had done, but she knew from the way he looked at her that there was no point. This apology would just be empty words, nothing else. She could keep repeating them over and over again until her lips dried out, but it would all be in vain. She had to prove it to him instead. Only, now, he would not allow her.
He headed to the door, grabbing the doorknob. For a moment, he hesitated. Her heart was filled with hope that he might understand how she was led by curiosity. It was wrong of her. She knew it then, just like she knew it now, but it was too late to apologize.
Her heart was pounding louder. With each subsequent heartbeat, she beckoned him to come back to the bed. She wanted to do penance in any way he saw fit. She just wanted him close. She wanted him to know how truly sorry she was and that she would always come to him first.
Her eyes pleaded with his, but he turned away from her, opening the door to let himself out. A moment later, Amelia was alone, left to face her reckoning.
CHAPTER20
Arthur had almost made a hole in the Axminster that lay prostrate in the middle of his study. He was desperate to tame his grief and concern, but the pacing did not help. To be honest, he had no idea what would have helped. His mother always told him that it was best to simply talk things out, but that was the last thing he wanted to do right now. He wouldn’t know what to say to Amelia if she were here in front of him right now. He wouldn’t know how to convince her that he wasn’t the monster thatthe tondeemed him to be.
He inhaled deeply, raking his fingers through his hair then he walked over to the window and opened it. Fresh summer breeze blew right in his face. He closed his eyes, feeling as if a pair of invisible hands had cupped his cheeks. Suddenly, he remembered his mother and his father. He could hear their voices, the way they smiled, and the way they talked. Then, his mind immediately brought forth the image of that dreadful night. The fire. The screams. The smoke which clutched at his throat, making it impossible to breathe.
Even now, after so much time had passed, he had no idea how he survived. What did he do to deserve the chance to live while his parents had to die? Who got to decide that?
He opened his eyes, and they fell upon the patch of garden which had already started to look better as there was someone tending to it. Him. He looked up at the sky, wondering if his mother could see him right now. If she could, what would he say to her? He sighed heavily, realizing that he didn’t have an answer to that question. In fact, he didn’t have answers to many questions. That was why he was here, alone, just when he thought that he finally found someone who would see him for more than a monster that he was.
No matter how hard he tried to run away from this notion, it always caught up with him. Because one could never escape the truth, and the truth was that he was the one to blame. It was his neglect that caused the fire which killed his parents, the two most important people in his life. The knowledge followed him wherever he went, like a dark cloud hovering over him for the rest of his life.
As if that wasn’t enough, now Amelia was also going to think him a monster. Rightfully so. He knew that there was no point in denying anything. There was no point in trying to convince her otherwise. He would not be able to survive the look of pity in her eyes, the look of fear, and everything in between those two states of mind which were destined to tear them apart just at the moment when he felt most close to her.
He skipped breakfast this morning, unwilling to risk running into her. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It showed noon. He had two options. He could remain in his study for the rest of the day, risking Amelia coming to him and being forced to speak with her, or he could simply leave the house and stay out on errands which were not urgent at all until late in the evening. He liked the second option much better.
He headed back to his writing table, endeavoring to gather a few documents then head to his solicitor, something which he planned on doing the following week, but now was as good time as any. At that very moment, a knock on the door interrupted him. He lifted his gaze in that direction. His heart was pounding like mad.
Was it Amelia? How did she know he was there? Had she been looking for him? A flicker of hope instantly lit up inside of him. Despite all his conscious effort, he wanted her to come to him. He wanted her compassion, her sympathy, her presence, and her closeness. He wantedher.There was nothing and no one else he needed more than her.
But she knew the truth now. She knew who he truly was. He was hoping that he would have more time before he had to reveal the truth. He was hoping that by the time that moment arrived, they would be madly in love with each other. She would understand that it was a mistake, a tragic mistake which cost him everything. She would understand him because she would love him.
They had not reached that place yet. They were still very far away from it. He could sense that she was slowly opening up to him, warming up to him. He heard the tender trembling in her voice when she admitted that she wanted to be the last woman in his life. Upon hearing that, his heart leaped. It wanted to jump out of his chest and rush towards her, to nestle in her hands and never leave them. Then, the wall of truth rose up between them, keeping them apart, and that was how it would remain for a long time if not forever.
“Yes?” he finally called out to whoever was behind the door.
He hardened his heart, if such a thing was even possible when it came to Amelia, promising himself that if he heard her voice on the other side, he would not open the door at all. He would tell her courteously that he was busy and for her to come a bit later. He still wasn’t certain how he would pronounce those words when he wanted to say exactly the opposite.
“It is I, Your Grace,” Mrs. Collins’ apologetic voice was muffled by the door tightly shut between them.
“Come in, Mrs. Collins,” he urged, taking a seat at his writing table, relieved as well as disappointed at the same time.
She opened the door, and he immediately noticed that she wasn’t in her usual cheerful mood. Instead, she looked gloomy, almost as low-spirited as himself as she held a folded newspaper in her hands.
“I beg your pardon for interrupting your morning, Your Grace,” she continued as she walked over to his writing table then stood at a respectable distance from it. “The paper boy brought the morning newspapers, but this time, he made a mistake and deliveredthe Morning Heraldas well.”
He glanced at the newspapers in her hand. He could not tell what they were just by looking at them, but he supposed that she had come to bring himthe Morning Herald.He raised an eyebrow at this supposition.The Morning Heraldwas a gossip column. A scandal sheet. He has no desire to read such material, and he wondered why on earth Mrs. Collins thought it would be a good idea to bring it to him instead of just chucking it out with the trash, unless there were some servants who wished to peruse it first. In either case, he was perplexed as to her presence here.
“You may do with the newspapers what you wish, Mrs. Collins,” he shrugged, hoping that this would end this superfluous conversation which, if nothing else, managed to get his mind off of Amelia for one precious moment. He supposed that he should be grateful to theHeraldfor that at least.
“Uhm… if you will permit me, Your Grace,” Mrs. Collins spoke remorsefully, sounding awkward and confused, something not akin to her at all. She placed the newspapers down onto the writing table, stepping away from it as if she might further contaminate herself if she were to remain in contact with it longer.
This time, his curiosity peaked. Mrs. Collins was a woman who spoke her mind although she knew her place well. She was the housekeeper of Mosebridge Estate. As such, she had privileges that their servants did not have, especially taking into account the length of time she had spent with the family which was over thirty years. She had watched Arthur grow up from a happy little boy into the broken young man that he was today. She had cleaned many of his cuts and scrapes, she had wiped many of his tears and read many bedtime stories when his parents were attending balls, and he was unable to fall asleep without a bedtime story. Those things alone provided Mrs. Collins the privilege of coming to him in this unexpected manner to tell him something about the most famous London scandal sheet.
“What is it, Mrs. Collins?” he asked cautiously, getting up, walking around the table, so that they could both be standing, facing each other. She seemed even more perplexed and apologetic now.
“I know it is none of my business,” she continued, her voice suddenly taking on a note of anger as well. He wondered what theHeraldcontained which made this mild-mannered woman so confused and enraged. “But… there… on the fifth page…” she spoke, glancing at the newspaper in question. “There is an article you ought to read.”
He frowned. He could not see a single reason why he would do so, but Mrs. Collins told him to. That was enough. If anyone else had said it, he would have neglected the advice, going on with his day.
