Page 58 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess
I ought to have listened to Harry and brought my walking-stick,he thought miserably. If he took a fit out here, in the dark and cold, he might lie on the wet ground for hours before anybody discovered him. Long enough for a cold to set in, or some fever, or something to finish him off entirely.
Perhaps it would be a better end than what awaited him.
“Neil…”
“No, listen to me, Patrina,” he drew in a breath, steeling himself. “It is not in either of our interests to care for eachother. I thought I had more time, but I was wrong. You don’t understand – I saw how my father’s illness progressed. How my mother suffered at the end.”
Patrina frowned, confused. “Your mother?”
“Yes, my mother. My parents married for love, did you know that? Most unfashionable of them. When Cynthia and I were young, my parents always encouraged us to wait, to choose somebody we truly cared for. They were happy, you know. Such a rare thing in our society. When my father fell sick, of course my mother cared for him tirelessly. He did not want her to – he told her often to stay away, to spare herself, but she never would. But at the end…” he paused, swallowing. “At the end my father became violent. Irrational. He raged at everybody, particularly the ones closest to him. I suppose you know that he accused his family of poisoning him. All of us, especially my mother. I saw the pain on her face when he would say such things, how she would go off and weep afterwards. He would attack her, too. And mind you, my father never even raised his voice to us when he was in good health. It was unbearable.”
She looked away, rolling a twist of her skirts between her fingers, a nervous movement.
“I… I cannot even imagine how terrible that must have been for you. For Lady Emma, for all of you.”
Neil gave a one-shouldered shrug. “It was terrible. You can’t imagine it, and I don’t particularly wish for you tohaveto imagine it. But my point is this, Patrina. I do not intend for you to go through the same thing as my mother.”
“Neil…”
“No, please, let me finish. My mother and father had a life together. A good one. They loved each other and had many happy years. Children. A home. Alife. You and I haven’t had that. I won’t let you deal with the consequences of marriagewithout having any of the benefits. You must see that it’s not fair.”
“But I am telling you that Iwantto be here for you, Neil,” Patrina said, despairingly. “Why won’t you let me be close to you? Why won’t you let me help?”
“Because I am going to die,” Neil answered simply, fighting to keep the misery off his face. “Because I am going to die, and you are going to live, and I must think ofyourfuture as well as my end. Don’t you understand?”
She stood there for a long moment, staring at him. Moonlight played across her features. A light breeze had started up, and escaped strands of hair from her elaborate coiffure drifted across her face.
“I can’t make you out, Neil,” she said at long last, just when he’d given up any hope of her responding. “Just when I think I begin to understand you, you say or do something like that. I can’t force you to accept me, or to let me be close to you. So I suppose I should just give up, shouldn’t I?”
Neil wasn’t entirely sure what to say about that. The words wouldn’t come. He stood there, opening and closing his mouth. Patrina stood there in silence for a moment or two, but when it became clear he wasn’t going to say anything, she turned quietly on her heel and began to pick her way back towards the house.
Neil stood there until she had disappeared. Suddenly, the night was colder than before, the wind whipping around him, draining his body’s heat and strength with each passing minute.
When he finally found the strength to lurch forward, his limbs had gone stiff. He stumbled up the stone steps, falling upwards more than once. As he reached the balcony, the French doors opened, and a woman stepped out.
For one moment of relief, Neil thought it was Patrina, coming back to say… to say what? To do what?
It wasn’t Patrina. It was Cynthia, clutching a shawl around her shoulders, wind ruffling her skirts. Relief spread over her face when she saw him.
“Thereyou are! Heavens, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Have you and Patrina had an argument?”
“No,” Neil said automatically. It wasn’t a lie, was it? They hadn’t argued, not exactly.
“Hm,” Cynthia said, looking a little sceptical. “Well, she came charging in a moment ago, slippers ruined and hem soaked. I couldn’t get to her in time, but she left the ballroom right away. I believe she’s gone to bed – Mama is making excuses for her. She must have gone in the garden… oh, heavens, so have you! Your shoes are besmirched in mud. And your stockings areruined.”
“Cynthia, I… I don’t feel well,” Neil rasped, reaching out to steady himself on the stone wall. Suddenly it was unbearably cold, his hands and feet numb and cold as the stone itself. Cynthia’s expression of mild irritation changed to worry, and she came forward, holding out a hand.
“You don’t look well. Neil, whathashappened?”
“Nothing,” he insisted, shaking his head. “I don’t… I’m just tired. This soiree was rather a lot. Has the dancing started?”
“Yes, it has. Clayton and I opened the ball, since Patrina and you were nowhere to be found. It will be remarked upon, but I think it was pretty clear that you are not well. Take my arm, Neil. Lean on me.”
“I don’t want to go through the ballroom like this,” Neil murmured. He shivered to think of the immense crush of people, no doubt made denser by the room necessary for the dancing couples. People would be crushed back against the wall, craning their necks to watch the dancers.
It would of course be the subject of gossip for a few weeks to come. This was a country estate, not the centre of London,and soirees and balls were in short supply. Not to mention the fact that Neil seldom threw such events, and everyone who was anyone would want to be in attendance. Lord and Lady Morendale’s early absences – not properly explained –wouldbe noticed, and remarked upon.
Cynthia only sighed, however. “Come on, then. We’ll skirt around the house and go in by the front door. I can support you that far, and then some of the footmen can help you get up to your room. Can you manage that? Harry’s gone missing somewhere.”
