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“I told you that my family and my mother were off limits,” he told her in a low voice. “I was very clear that we would not speak of her.”
“But –” Edwina tried to protest, confused. “Fergus, darling –”
“Edwina!” he cried desperately, his voice breaking as he said her name. The emotion in his voice allowed a peak through the façade of anger, a glimmer of the pain he must feel in his heart. The wild look in his eyes shocked her.
“I do not understand,” she whispered, frowning. “My dear, please.” He raked his hand through his hair, turning around quickly. Edwina heard him exhale quickly.
“Fergus?” she breathed, reaching out for him. As she touched him, he jerked away from her and headed toward the door.
“Fergus!” she called. “You promised!” She hurried after him. After their conversation the day previously, she could not just allow him to leave again. He stormed down the hallways, and she struggled to catch up with him, so she called out to him again. “Fergus! Come back!”
He burst out the back door of the manor and into the rain. Without hesitation, Edwina followed him out. Thunder clapped overhead, and puddles filled the paths. Her slippers quickly soaked through, but she pressed on, trying to catch Fergus. Weaving through the hedges, she finally caught him and grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face her.
“Yesterday, you promised me that you would not leave when you got overwhelmed,” she said.
“I promised that I would try,” he countered.
“It is the same thing!” she cried, blinking rain from her eyes. “Tell me, Fergus. Why is your mother off limits? What happened that you cannot talk to me about her?”
He grasped her hand and pulled her through the hedges to the front of the house.
“Where are we going?” Edwina gasped, hurrying after him through the tunnel of wisteria.
They emerged at the front side of the manor into a private part of the garden she had never seen before. A large stone monument of an angel rose above peony bushes. She stopped protesting realizing that this private space had to have some significance to Fergus, especially once she noted a name carved in the base of the statue: Amelia Argenon. Below the name was a range of years; the woman had only died two years previously.
“My mother,” Fergus breathed, waving at the monument. “Peonies were her favorite flower. When I found your father on my property, he was here of all places. Cutting these flowers. My mother’s flowers.”
Edwina looked up at him, not wanting to interrupt Fergus. Suddenly, she realized why Fergus had gotten so angry when her father cut the flowers. She looked over her shoulder, seeing that the long drive could be confused for another road in the dark. Her father could have easily come upon the garden in the dark and, knowing him, not noticed the looming manor beyond.
“How did she die?” she asked softly.
“She was brutally attacked,” he continued. “Strangled as she returned from visiting a friend. They stopped her carriage and dragged her out into the street.”
“That is so terrible,” Edwina breathed, reaching out to Fergus. He let her place her hand on his upper arm. He stared down at the grave, his whole body stiff. She stepped closer to him when he did not pull away, wrapping her arm around his back comfortingly.
“They never found the culprits,” he continued, his shoulders starting to tremble. “The constable could never tell me why. They did not take her money or her jewelry. Just beat her and choked the life from her body.”
He started sobbing, lowering his face into his hands. Edwina’s heart went out to him, breaking with his grief. She opened out her arms, pulling him against her. Burying his face in her neck, she held him tightly, letting him cry as the rain continued to fall on them. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her too tightly against him.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered. “Fergus, I am so sorry to bring up this horrible memory. You must have loved her so much.”
“She was the only one I had left,” he whispered hoarsely. “She was the only one that still loved me, and she was taken from me.”
Edwina struggled to hold back her own tears as she stroked his soaked hair. “Shh,” she whispered. “Shhh, darling. It will be all right.”
The rain continued to soak them. She felt the water running down the inside of her dress and shivered but refused to pull away from Fergus. She held on to him as though she could prove he was not alone.
“I am here for you,” she whispered. “You can count on me now.” He lifted his head and pressed his cheek against hers, holding the back of her head with one of his hands.
“Until you leave me too,” he breathed.
She placed her palms on his cheeks, forcing him to look into her eyes. “I will not leave you.”
He shuddered, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against hers. “Everyone leaves in time.”
“Just give me a chance,” she asked, wrapping him into her arms again. “Let me help you.”
Wrapping his arms around her again, he held on less tightly, less desperately. When his hands ran down her back, soaked with the rain, he pulled away again.
