Page 62 of Becoming Lady Dalton
Even as he said the words, Viola saw the truth in his eyes.
“That is not for you to promise,” she said gently. The sweet ache of the moment sharpened into pain. “You know life is more tenuous than that, love.” She drew a shuddering breath. “We both do.”
Reluctantly, she rose. The wine had gone cold in her silver mug. Nonetheless, Viola drained the remnants in a single gulp.
“I’ll wait,” Piers promised. “I won’t continue asking, Viola, but I will wait, for whenever you are ready.”
“Then you will wait forever,” Viola whispered. Her sister glanced up from a similarly cozy tableau several feet away. The sumptuous room filled with beautiful furniture and a yule log crackling in the grand fireplace was no longer a refuge. As far as she’d come from the rubbish farmstead Sam had built with his own hands, where the wind whistled through the cracks in the walls and chilblains had swelled and itched, Viola hadn’t found a new home in London. Briarcliff was a waypoint on her lonely journey to nowhere. She trespassed here, a perpetual guest. In London she could fade into the city.
Viola gathered her dignity, kissed her sister goodnight, and left Piers ensconced with her sister and brother-in-law. She traced a path without knowing where she was going, though her destination didn’t surprise her when she arrived.
“I’ve come to wish Samuel a happy Christmas. Is he well enough to see me?”
“Aye.” The nurse unhooked her mask. The room was chilly from the cracked window, but she’d kept the bedpan full of warm coals.
“Samuel.”
A groan came from the bed. Her husband wheezed like a broken accordion. Chills skittered down her spine. It wouldn’t be long. He might not last the night.
“Go ... away.”
“I’m your wife, Sam. I’ll stay with you.”
“Not my wife,” he coughed. Viola winced at the painful noise. “Not anymore. I released you.”
“Yet, I am still here. Legally, you have no power to nullify our vows. Now, sit up. Let me help you.”
“‘When law can do no right, let it be lawful that law bar no wrong,’” Samuel quoted fromKing John. “You think I don’t remember you reading to Matthew. To ... her.”
“Constance.” Viola’s breath caught in a broken sob. “Our daughter.”
“I wish I’d let you get the doctor. This death, it’s what I deserve, letting her die at your breast.”
“It was hopeless, Sam.” Viola’s resentment boiled over. But this time, when it came to a head, the wound in her heart burst and began to heal. It had scarred long ago, but perhaps, with time, she would heal enough to find her way to motherhood again. The possibility shimmered before her, a mirage in the distance. “The fever was too high.”
“I should havetried,” Sam hissed.
Viola gripped his hand and squeezed her eyes closed. Hot tears leaked out anyway.
A stream of memories momentarily unsettled her. Viola let them wash over her, collecting the ragged scraps one by one. Discovering how Sam had married her to try to extort her grandmother. The fights when she refused to cooperate in reaching out to the baroness. The relative calm before Constance had arrived. The fights that had come after. Viola gathered them into her mind, a ball of everything that had made her what she was now. She bent forward and kissed her husband’s forehead. It was warm beneath her lips.
“I forgive you, Samuel Cartwright. For everything.”
He broke into a harsh fit of coughing that never seemed to end. When, finally, it ebbed, Viola found herself clutching his hand.
“Go, woman,” he gasped. “Dalton is a good man. Hold fast to happiness. You have kept your vows. Now, let me go.”
His painful hacking resumed. It scraped through her body in a shared physical assault.
“Nurse,” she called out as calmness descended over her. The woman entered the room like a shadow.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Mr. Cartwright needs laudanum.”
“Leave ... bottle,” Sam gasped. Viola hesitated, then nodded her assent. The terror and agony in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. One way or another, Sam would be gone by morning, and he didn’t want her there to witness his final moments. The only thing she could give him now was dignity in death.
“Give him whatever he needs to be comfortable. Use a clean mask. As often as you need. We brought many.”
