Chapter Twenty-Four
The whisky made the rest of the day pass quickly, and he sent Soames away when he asked if he wanted anything, and he did not eat supper, but simply slipped into bed, allowing the alcohol to take over from the misery that filled his heart.
But when he awoke the next morning, he found he could not move on and simply get on with his day. He had planned to ask her to marry him – and now he was facing his future alone, unsure whether he would ever be able to come to terms with Laura’s death and face the future.
And with the misery weighing heavily in his heart, he made his way to the door where he had run from Constance the previous day, and for the first time in half a decade, he opened it.
And nothing terrible happened. The memories were strong, yes, but he stepped over the threshold, glancing up at the damaged ceiling.
He moved through the nursery, taking deep steadying breaths as he did so. Another room that had lain empty for so long. Then he sat in the window seat, put his head in his hands, and lost himself to memories and misery.
"I thought Soames was wrong when he said you were in here," his mother said, and he looked up to see her entering the room, a concerned look upon her face.
He tried to smile, but there was just no joy in him.
"I needed to think," he said, watching as the rain dripped slowly through the hole in the roof, caught in a bucket on the floor for that purpose. He wondered how often Soames was having the footmen change the bucket, for the floor did not seem damp.
His mother ran a hand along the old oak crib that sat in the middle of the nursery and smiled. "I find it hard sometimes to remember that you slept in that very crib, and now you are a mature man, the Earl of Gracewood, and I am so proud of you."
"If only you’d had another son," he said, his voice cracking a little. "Then the Gracewood line could be assured."
His mother took a seat in the old rocking chair and gave him a sad smile. "Well, yes, that was my failing in life – only having the one son. The one child, for that matter. Believe me, I have been reminded many times that my duty was to have more."
Ezra swallowed, suddenly overwhelmed by guilt. "I didn’t mean— It’s not your fault, Mother. It’s mine. I can’t secure the family line. I am the failure."
His mother tutted. "Stuff and nonsense," she said, shaking her head. "You have not failed anybody. And I believe with all my heart that you will marry again, and that you will have an heir. But if you don’t, then the title will be passed on, and whoever the recipient is, I’m sure they will take care of the title and the castle. You mustn’t carry such a weight upon your shoulders, my son. Our time on this earth is short, and we must make the most of it."
He nodded, sadness filling his heart. "I don’t think I will remarry, though," he said, embarrassed to find tears springingto his eyes. "And therefore there will be no heir. Or even a daughter – nothing. No one. I am the end."
"I thought you were getting ready to ask Lady Constance to marry you?"
"Which you didn’t approve of."
"She is not who I would choose to be the next Countess of Gracewood, no. But it is your decision, and your happiness is far more important than my opinion on such matters."
"Well, that’s good to hear," he said, but he could not help but sigh.
"So what has changed? Never say she’s rejected you?"
Ezra half smiled at her outrage. "I haven’t asked her. I was going to. I had it all planned. She thought I didn’t care for her, but it wasn’t true – and then the moment came, and I couldn’t do it."
His mother frowned. "Why ever not? Not out of loyalty to Laura, I hope. She was a sweet girl, and she would not want you in mourning forever."
"Not out of loyalty, although perhaps it should be. But how can I marry again when I killed my first wife?"
His mother gasped. "You did not kill her, Ezra. You cannot think—"
"If she had not married me, she would still be alive. I impregnated her, after all – I’m sorry to be coarse, Mother, but it is true. It was my fault that she died – that the child died. I cannot do that to another, let alone…"
"Let alone a woman you love?"
Ezra nodded in spite of himself. "I love her like I never knew love existed. I cannot put her in harm’s way, Mother. I can’t. So I must be alone for the rest of my life."
His mother leant forward and took his hands, and the warmth of her touch surprised him. He looked up, meeting her gaze, and saw sorrow in her eyes.
"Oh, my darling boy, what a burden you carry with you. You did not kill Laura. It was terrible, I agree – a tragedy. And it could well have happened to her if she had married another man. Have you thought of that? Having children is a risky business, yes – and yet so many women come through it unscathed. The Duchess of Coldingham – she’s had two now – and Lady Lylton gave birth just the other week. I have lost babies in my time, and I have blamed myself, but my life was spared."
A tear rolled down Ezra’s cheek, unbidden, and he swiped it away, feeling weak for crying, even if it was only in front of his mother.
