Page 94 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
Eloise sighed. “You must forgive me, for I did not speak the truth.”
Violette turned inquiring eyes on her. “Are they’re alive?”
“Your father is dead,” Eloise said, “but your mother is alive.”
“Where is she?”
“May I tell you a story first?”
The child nodded.
“Your mother knew your father when she was only a little older than you are now,” Eloise said. “Your father was not a kind man, but your mother was a poor weak soul, and was unable to resist a—a union between them. She retired to a convent until you were born—then she returned to her family. But you remained in the convent, where Agatha cared for you.”
Violette’s eyes widened, before they glistened with moisture and her lips trembled.
“She left me there? Didn’t she want me?”
“Oh, sweet baby!” Eloise cried. “She wanted you more than anything in the world. It broke her heart to part with you.”
Violette’s voice tightened as she began to cry. “But why didn’t she see me again? Didn’t she love me enough to visit?”
“Oh, Violette, she loved you dearly—she loves you still. Her every waking thought has been of you.”
“Was she ashamed of me?”
“No, sweet one, her love for you was so great—but she was afraid of your father. It pains me to say this, but he—he hurt your mother. The convent was the safest place for you. Had he known of your existence he might have hurt you also. Your mother wanted you safe.”
“She abandoned me.”
The desolation in the child’s voice gripped Eloise’s heart. She bent her head, and kissed the top of the child’s head.
“Your mother never wanted to cause you pain, Violette, my love. Every day since your birth, she prayed for you. She couldn’t bear to be apart from you, and eventually her family permitted her to visit. She’s watched over you ever since.”
Eloise held the child at arm’s length, wanting to meet her gaze as she made her confession—to accept her judgement as bravely as a warrior meets his destiny on the battlefield. The battle she fought today was the most important battle of her life—it was for the love of her child.
“Look at me, Violette.”
Violette’s knowing blue gaze met her own. The moment of truth at last.
“Iam your mother.”
Horror etching onto Violette’s features. Her little hand flew to her mouth and she gave a low cry.
At last, she knew the truth. The woman masquerading as her patroness had abandoned her, to lead a life estranged from the world—never to have a home of her own, but to live forever hidden in disgrace.
Eloise closed her eyes and slumped forward, tears of shame soaking into her gown. She wrapped her arms round her knees and wept for the motherhood she’d been forced to give up, the childhood Violette had been denied—and the love of the child she had lost.
Soft footsteps approached. Agatha had come to take Violette away. Unable to bear the sight of losing her child again, Eloise squeezed her eyes shut more tightly.
Small fingertips pressed against her cheeks, and burrowed between her hands. A voice called to her but she shook her head. The fingers persisted, curling round her hands in a desperate grip until cry of need cut through her pain.
“Mama!”
Eloise jerked her head up. Violette kneeled before her.
“Oh mama!”
The child reached out, her body quivering. Eloise fell to her knees in front of her child. Violette lifted her arms and drew them round her neck, pulling her close in a tight, desperate embrace and she buried her head in her shoulder.
