Page 27 of Legacy of Roses

He turned away from the window, his eye falling on the mantelpiece above the cold fireplace. He stiffened. A letter was propped up there, the paper crisp and fresh, looking like it had been left yesterday. But he wasn’t fooled. He didn’t need to open it to know it had been sitting there decades longer than that.

Chapter 9

Dimitri

Only one word was written on the outside of the envelope.

Father

The letters were formed in a familiar, elegant cursive script. Dimitri had learned to read and write from a more mature version of that hand.

In a daze, his feet carried him across the room, and his hand reached for the letter. Only after it was in his hand did it occur to him to wonder if he should open it. But its intended recipient—his grandfather—had left this place long ago, leaving it behind. Either disaster had befallen him the moment his daughter disappeared, or else he had read it and carefully placed it back where he had found it. Had he intended for Dimitri to find it one day?

With trembling fingers, Dimitri opened it, retrieving two tightly written pages. His eyes hurriedly scanned the words:

Father,

I have crept back in here to leave this note for you. I already know from the housekeeper that you visit my room every day. So do not feel bad. Even if your final words to me were harsh, I know you miss me, and the love you have for me is deep.

But I cannot return to you. Although you thought you were doing what was best for me, you have destroyed my chance at happiness. You were convinced Jerome’s love was false, but it’s you that made it so—however unwittingly you acted on that front.

You can see now why I hid from you and married in secret. I intended to return eventually—my family with me—but when you tracked me down and stripped away my inheritance, I lost everything. You couldn’t take the manor itself since I received that from Mother, but you know its income is bound in a trust. You left Jerome and me with nothing.

Given your words at the time, you probably think our love is at fault. You said if our love was true, we could live on love. But how can love defeat the Legacy? Your actions have turned it against us, and now there is no hope for me.

You obviously didn’t consider what happened to the original rich daughters when they lost their dowries and all their family’s wealth. Their suitors abandoned them,and now the Legacy has betrayed me by forcing Jerome down the same path.

My beloved Jerome has been torn from me only a year after the birth of our darling Dimitri. I know Jerome loved him—loved me. I know his true self loves us still.

The hand became shaky at that point, and tear spots dotted the bottom of the paper. Dimitri’s heart squeezed, but he turned to the next page and read on.

The Legacy has forced him away. It has forced him to abandon us and has placed a false veneer of sneering disdain and hatred over the true feelings that dwell in his heart. He claims he has no use for me or for Dimitri, but I know those are the words the Legacy is putting in his mouth. But its power is too strong for me.

I could not free him from its clutches, and now he is gone despite all my pleadings. I have even heard word from afar that it has forced him into courting another. I suppose it is all too easy for the Legacy to cast aside a secret wife.

I cannot bear this place without him by my side. And I will not allow my beautiful, perfect baby boy to remain within the Legacy’s clutches. If I cannot free Jerome, at least I can free Dimitri.

You will not see me again. But know that while the pain of your actions means we will never see each other again in this life, I will always hold my love for you in my heart. I know you did the best you could for me after Mother’s death and indeed you lavished much on me in our years together. I wish you nothing but health and happiness.

Your loving daughter

Dimitri staggered to the nearest chair and collapsed into it. He had wanted answers—had wanted to understand his mother—and this one letter had allowed him to do so. Despite the melancholy of her manner, he had never guessed at the depth of the pain she had kept locked inside. He had never considered what lurked behind her words when she’d called him her whole world.

His gaze wandered back to the book on her bedside table. If there had been a fire in the fireplace, he would have dashed the volume into the flames. She had lain in that bed and read those words and allowed herself to be caught up in a fantasy. She had fed the dream instead of reality and allowed it to blind her to all sense. She had ignored the warnings of those who loved her and the wisdom of those older and more experienced, convinced she understood both love and the Legacy better than them.

Dimitri was only just learning about the Legacy at twenty-one years old, but already he understood the delusion behind her words. The Legacy manipulated physical objects, like the roses and the manor, and it could sometimes influence small actions—like beguiling someone into picking a rose. He had experienced that himself. But every account agreed that while itmanipulated circumstances, it had no power over what people did with the situations it created. It couldn’t manufacture love, and neither could it strip it away. It didn’t force words into someone’s mouth.

It hadn’t been the Legacy that had betrayed his mother, it had been his father. He had used words of love to lure a young girl away from her family and friends. He had married her in secret, and then when her income was cut off and her future inheritance withdrawn, he had abandoned both her and their child.

Dimitri’s hand tightened slowly into a fist. The rustle of paper made him stop, however, and he smoothed the letter back out before he crushed it completely.

His mother had never given him details about his father or what had happened to him, but she had always spoken of his love for the two of them, speaking as if he had still been alive. For most of his life, Dimitri had believed he was dead anyway. He had concocted a story where his father’s death had driven his mother into the mountains and put the sadness into her eyes. He had thought she spoke of his father as if he was still with them in order to ease the pain. But a small part of him had held onto hope that his father was still alive after all, and that in returning to Glandore, he might finally meet him.

That hope had proven true—his father was likely alive—but the desire behind it was gone. After reading the letter, he no longer had any desire to meet him. He could only be grateful such a man had given up the chance to have influence in his life. For all the tragedy of her delusion, he would rather have his mother’s loyal heart than his father’s fickle cruelty.

But what of his grandfather? Dimitri didn’t have children of his own, so he could only imagine the pain his grandfather must have felt on reading the letter. Had he tried to track down his daughter and baby grandson? Had he wished to know Dimitri?

Dimitri had his answer in the tapestry that held the family tree. His grandfather had disapproved of Jerome enough to disinherit his only daughter, so his son-in-law did not appear on the family record. But Dimitri’s name had been carefully stitched in below his mother.

---