The lock clicked into place with a sound of terrible finality.
For a moment, Joan stood perfectly still, her hand still on the key. Then, slowly, her legs gave out.
She slid down the door until she sat on the floor, her elaborate skirts pooling around her. Her hands began to shake, first just trembling, then shaking so violently she had to press them against the floorboards to keep them still.
Her whole body shook with the force of what she was holding back. The sobs clawed at her throat, demanding release. The tears burned behind her eyes, begging to fall.
But Joan didn’t cry. She had learned long ago that crying accomplished nothing. That one had to stay strong, had to keep moving forward, and had to make the impossible choices.
She had been twelve years old when she’d learned to swallow her grief and terror and keep going. She’d been fourteen when she’d learned to hide her exhaustion and fear behind a calm smile. She’d been nineteen when she’d learned to lock away her own dreams and desires for the sake of her family’s survival.
And now, at twenty-four, she would learn to lock away her heart entirely.
That’s all that matters. The family survives.
She sat there on the floor as the afternoon light faded to dusk, as shadows crept across the room, as the manor fell silent around her.
And she didn’t shed a single tear.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Good God, Ashcroft,” Hugo’s voice came cheerfully from the doorway. “Why are you sitting in darkness? Your eyes have healed. You can actually see now.”
Laurence sat in his darkened study, the curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. Archimedes purred contentedly in his lap as Laurence stroked the cat’s soft fur with mechanical repetition, his mind miles away.
The door had opened without warning, spilling light into the room.
Laurence didn’t look up. “I asked not to be disturbed.”
“Yes, well, I’m disturbing you anyway.” Hugo stepped inside, and Laurence heard lighter footsteps behind him. Octavia, then.
Perfect. Just what I need.
For the past four days, Laurence had done everything he could think of to reach Joan. He’d sent messages to Fairfax Manor, all unanswered. He’d gone to the hall during lesson times, only to find Victoria teaching in her sister’s place, offering vague excuses about Joan being unwell or occupied with estate matters.
He’d even considered going directly to Fairfax Manor again, but something had held him back. The memory of Joan’s cold dismissal, her insistence that further communication go through their servants. He didn’t want to damage her reputation further by showing up at her door again. Not when she’d made it clear she wanted distance.
But her words haunted him.I’m getting married.
Was she serious? Or had it been said in anger, meant to push him away? And if she was serious, to whom? Why?
The questions circled endlessly in his mind, driving him to seek solitude and darkness where he could think without interruption.
“Give her more time,” Hugo said, settling into a chair uninvited. “Whatever happened between you two, she’ll come around.”
“I don’t think so,” Octavia said softly.
Both men turned to look at her. She stood near the door, her expression troubled.
“I think something might be wrong,” Octavia continued. “Truly wrong.”
Laurence sat up straighter, disturbing Archimedes, who meowed in protest. “What do you mean?”
Octavia twisted her hands together. “I wanted to apologize to Miss Sinclair and her sister. For the ball, for trying to match Miss Sinclair with Hugo when she clearly… when there was clearly something between you two.” She flushed slightly but pressed on. “I swear I had no ulterior motive except to apologize properly. So I asked for directions to the hall, I’d heard about their school for the village children.”
She paused, her expression growing more concerned. “When I arrived three days ago, I saw Miss Victoria at the back of the building. She was… she was wiping away tears. And not just a few tears, she looked as though she’d been sobbing for hours. Her eyes were so swollen I barely recognized her.”
Octavia’s voice dropped. “I felt it wasn’t the right time to intrude. So I left without speaking to her. But I can’t stop thinking about it. Something is very wrong with that family.”
