‘I am on my way. You and the others return to your duties.’
Shooing him away, for which he seemed rather grateful, Rebecca grabbed her courage, and her skirts, and began the long ascent to the East Tower.
Well, he was bound to take issue at some point... It really was only a matter of time...
Not that she had been afraid of what might happen when he discovered what she’d been doing in the place no one dared speak of. And if this was what sent him over the edge and got her dismissed, well, then, so be it.
‘There you are,’ Liam spat furiously as she entered the room.
Rebecca eyed the mess of crystal and flowers on the floor, and made to tidy them. ‘Do not dare touch that.’
‘I am here, my lord,’ she said confidently, ignoring him as she collected the shards into her handkerchief, and laid the flowers back on the mantelpiece. ‘Though next time might I suggest the bell?’
‘You insolent, insubordinate, pig-headed, nosy, stubborn woman,’ he raged, prowling around the room. ‘It wasn’t enough for you to disobey my orders with the rest of the house—oh, no—you simply had to push, didn’t you! For there is no doubt you are to blame for this! Well? Have you nothing to say for yourself, then?’ he demanded, ceasing his pacing.
‘Have I missed a question again, my lord,’ Rebecca said defiantly, standing proud and immovable. ‘Forgive me if I have.’
‘Why, woman, why?’ he pleaded, striding over to tower over her. ‘Why could you not leave this place be?’
‘Because I could not countenance it, my lord,’ she shouted, staring up at him. ‘This room was a mausoleum. A sorrowful, hollow reminder of something terrible. I understand, believe me, I do,’ she continued vehemently, ‘the need to preserve memory. To honour the dead. But your sister, she deserved beauty, and light, and attention. And, yes, flowers. I have disturbed nothing but the dust and dirt. The rest is as it was, I swear.’
‘Do not presume to speak of what you do not know,’ he hissed, his hazel eyes flashing dangerously. ‘You have no idea...’
‘No,’ Rebecca admitted softly. ‘I have no idea what happened to her. Or you.’
Liam winced, and she sighed, shaking her head remorsefully.
‘I apologise for upsetting you, my lord, it was not my intent. But I cannot—will not—apologise for doing what I believed to be right. I will leave, if that is your wish. For if I stay, I shall continue to bring her flowers every day.’
‘You have been sent to torment me, I think, Mrs Hardwicke,’ he whispered, the anguish in his voice and heart tearing through her breast. ‘More effectively than any demon from Hell itself.’
Rebecca’s breath caught, and her eyes filled with tears. His words had cut her to the quick, and she felt sick.
What have I done?
‘I shall leave,’ she said meekly. ‘I would never wish to cause you pain.’
‘I forbid you to leave, Mrs Hardwicke,’ he stated, his body tensing as though preparing to leap after her should she attempt it.
Rebecca’s heart skipped and she realised she had momentarily forgotten to breathe. Liam was still staring at her, anguish, rage and challenge in his eyes. She searched them, hoping to find the meaning to his words, but she could not. Why would he not allow her to leave? Could it be he wished to make her pay, suffer for the pain she had unwillingly inflicted upon him?
How could he compare her to such terrible things one moment, then bemoan her offer to leave him in peace? He had obviously wanted her gone from the first, and indeed she’d given him every chance, every excuse to dismiss her.
And yet here he was, forbidding her to leave.
‘I have duties to attend to,’ she added when he glared at her warningly. ‘My lord—’
‘Just, go. Please.’
He sighed, finally turning from her, and Rebecca bobbed a curtsey and fled, feeling as though she might indeed be ill. He’d had the air of a defeated man in that final moment, and the thought that she might have broken him...
It made her heart twist and writhe. She was not a cruel person. She had always strived to be good, and honest, and to spread love and care and joy, for she knew all too well what the absence of such things could do. And yet here was a man, already suffering, already on the edge with grief and God only knew what else, and she had pushed. Too far.
What were you thinking, Rebecca? Believing spirits had called you and instructed you...
Since arriving, she had tried to bring some light, and life, back into this house, and she’d thought she had. But then, he had returned, and nothing had seemed right anymore. Nearly every time they met it was a confrontation. Why could he not see?
Why are you so intent on making him see? On doing what you think right?
