Page 128 of Better Love Next Time
“In light of what his father did to you, to Clara, yes. It is true. But, Katherine, it is time for you to be free.”
“Free? How? How am I ever to be free?”
“Tell him.”
Julian took one step, his jaw hard. “I promise I will not lose my temper. Whatever you say. Just tell me what this is about.”
“Your father tried to kill me!”
Julian paled in the sudden silence.
“And this thing”—she struck her breast—“inside me could not…it only wished to forget.”
Canting his head in disbelief, Julian studied her fist clutched at her bodice. He spoke like testing words never heard nor spoken. “My father… tried… to kill you?”
She hurried to get the words out. "After you left for Southampton.”
Julian looked to Father Dunlevy who nodded grimly.
“The earl tricked me. And I was a fool to fall for his lies. He had his man, Cyril, nearly drown me at the waterside, all thewhile spitting hateful names at me like Roman, papist whore, until I promised not to marry you. And I promised this only because I wished to live for our child. I had every intention of returning to you. And then he threatened to have Father Dunlevy hanged for presiding over the mass, and he forced me to write the letter.”
The back of her head tingled with the memory of Cyril’s scarred hand fisted in her hair as he had shoved her face into the river. Those same hands reaching for her after the earl departed. Wrapping about her neck. Squeezing and cutting off her air.
As if it were the very moment, she struggled to breathe. “And then he ordered Cyril to kill me. ‘Kill her,’ he said, throwing his cigar at my skirts. And I saw the evil in his eyes and the indifference as I begged for our child’s life. And do you know what your father replied?” She searched Julian’s stricken countenance. "He said, ‘your pleas have no bearing on my decision.’”
Julian’s mouth parted to speak. She thought he might be sick.
“And we had a son. Andrew. He did die in my arms from putrid throat. And I missed his last breath. I was too busypraying. What good it did. And I wish I had died in his stead. And then I prayed longer that I would die. But I did not.” Her knees bent, her voice guttural. “I just keptliving.”
Julian rushed across the carpet, enfolding her tightly in his arms. “Dunlevy, leave us. Do not let us be disturbed. Tell the coachman to keep the team in their traces.”
Guiding Kitty to the settee, Julian renewed his hold as she sat and wept at his chest. The most wretched sound, soft, almost lifeless.
“If I had known it was to be Andrew’s last breath, I wouldn’t have looked up to the ceiling, beseeching God to save my child. What did my boy think as he took his last breath and I, not there, meeting his eyes?”
“Kitty, no.”
“Did he feel alone? Forsaken?”
He swallowed, tears filming his eyes. “No. He knew you loved him.”
“I am ashamed. So very ashamed of all of it. I just could not… get it out.”
“I understand.”
“I lay there in that cottage willing God to take me. For over a year. And then Sir Jeffrey demanded I return. In my darkest moments there was always someone to stop me. Father Dunlevy. You, in the garret, when I decided to leap from the window.”
“I am glad I stopped you,” he whispered at her hair.
“I was never strong like my mother to take my life. I have been forever plagued by hope. I’m certain I told you remember me well, because I… hoped.”
“It is good to hope. And you were right to keep your secret for Father Dunlevy’s sake. We should have eloped before I left for Southampton. I divulged our intent to Oliver. I underestimated the earl’s malevolence.”
And then he started crying with her.
Why had he believed her letter? Why hadn’t he turned the world upside-down to find her?
He had criticized his wife for her heavy silences and pitiful expressions. He had called her a martyr. Told her to stop being a coward and fight. Their son had died in her arms without hisfather. And Julian’s father had seeded this terror and shame inside her. Not an imagined terror. A very real one.
