Robert stared at her, undone by the quiet strength in her gaze, by the absence of fear, by the fullness of faith she had in him. No one had ever looked at him like that.
He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss to her knuckles, then leaned forward and brushedher forehead with a kiss so soft, it could only have been a promise.
“Always,” he murmured.
And then he left, with his cloak swirling behind him and the storm still howling in the dark beyond.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The corridor was quiet but for the soft pad of Evelyn’s slippers against the carpet and the whisper of her sister’s damp skirts brushing against her own. Her arm was securely wrapped around Matilda’s trembling frame, guiding her toward the guestroom at the end of the hall.
“I never meant for it to happen like this,” Matilda murmured, her voice hoarse with exhaustion and shame. “You must think I’m a coward. Iwasa coward.”
“You were scared,” Evelyn replied softly. “And trapped. That’s not cowardice, Matilda.”
Matilda’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she looked at her sister. “But I ran off with him. I hurt you. And then when I realized what he truly was, I still stayed. I thought I could fix it. I thought it was my punishment.”
Evelyn shook her head and gently pressed her lips together, halting them just outside the guestroom. “You don’t have to do that anymore,” she said. “None of that matters now. You came to us. That’s what matters.”
She pushed open the door and led Matilda inside. The room was warm, soft with lavender-scented linens and the welcoming glow of firelight crackling in the grate. Evelyn crossed to the wardrobe and pulled out a nightgown of soft cotton and lace, holding it out before turning back to her sister.
Matilda stood motionless, wet curls plastered to her cheeks, her expression dazed. Evelyn stepped forward and gently began unfastening the buttons at the back of her sodden dress.
“You don’t have to—” Matilda began, but Evelyn shook her head.
“Iwantto.”
She peeled the heavy gown away with care, helping her sister out of the damp layers with quiet efficiency. The fire warmed the room steadily as Matilda stood in her shift, her arms folded tightly around herself. Evelyn guided her into the dry nightgown then took a brush from the vanity table and gently began untangling her sister’s hair.
They didn’t speak. The silence between them was no longer brittle. It was healing, stretched with years of pain and regrets now cautiously stitched together by something gentler.
When Matilda was dressed and dry, Evelyn pulled back the sheets and helped her into bed, tucking the covers up around her like she used to when they were children playing pretend and hiding from imagined monsters.
“You’re safe now,” Evelyn whispered, brushing a damp lock of hair back from Matilda’s brow.
But Matilda didn’t relax. Her hands remained clenched in the coverlet.
“You don’t understand,” she said, her voice trembling. “Laurence… he’swicked, Evelyn. Truly. There are things… things I still haven’t told you. I think even now, we don’t know the full extent of what he’s done. Or what he’s capable of.”
Evelyn’s chest tightened, but her voice remained steady.
“Robert is with him now,” she said. “And Laurence won’t be able to twist or slither out of this. Whatever he’s done, whatever he’s hiding, Robert will find it. And he’ll make sure Laurence answers for every last sin.”
Matilda stirred beneath the covers, her voice a soft rasp breaking the quiet. “Evelyn,” she whispered, her eyes barely open, “I need to say it.”
Evelyn sat up straighter in the chair beside the bed. “You don’t have to,” she said gently. “You’ve been through?—”
“I do.” Matilda pushed herself up, clutching the blanket tightly around her. Her face was pale but resolute. “I need you to hear it. I’m sorry.”
Evelyn shook her head, but Matilda reached for her hand.
“No, please. Let me say it.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “I hurt you. I chose him. I thought he wanted me. He said I was better than you. That I wasn’t loud or willful or difficult. He said I was gentle, that I’d make a perfect wife. And I…” her voice cracked, “…I wanted so desperately to be loved, Evelyn. I did everything he asked of me. I smiled when he told me to. I spoke when spoken to. I made myself small, agreeable, whatever he needed. I… I became just a mirror of what he thought a woman ought to be.”
Her shoulders quaked. “And eventhatwasn’t enough. He grew tired of me. Grew angry. Rough. At first, I told myself I deserved it. That I’d failed him somehow.”
Evelyn’s blood ran hot, her heart pounding like war drums. “Don’t,” she said, her voice dangerously low. “Don’t you dare take the blame for what he did.”
Matilda nodded slowly, her lower lip trembling. “I know that now. It just took me too long to see it.”
