“My dearest sister, Amelia, has a way of bringing me out of my doldrums. Mama called the doctor. He says I’m suffering from hysteria and prescribed laudanum. The medication helps. Some. I miss my husband and wish he would return. Maybe then, I could share my fears with him. But alas, he is not home and I despair he will never return.”
Tears streamed down my face. While she was suffering, I was planning my season, oblivious to her pain. I had wanted to stay longer because I adored my nephews, but Mother had insisted I finish learning etiquette. I was going to be a duchess after all, and in her words, I could use all the help I could get to curb my impulsive nature.
Rain fell harder, the increasing thumping sounds matching my anxiety as I continued reading. “Noah is home and I should be thrilled, but nothing excites me anymore. I find it hard to lift my hand to write this entry for the burden of my hysteriacontinues to weigh me down. The laudanum is the only thing that helps but even it isn’t enough at times.”
Mother had said the medication was what Sally used to end her own life. Was it on purpose, or had she drunk too much by accident?
“Amelia debuted this year and I rarely see her. I remember how carefree I was during my season. I fell in love with my husband—a dashing military man—and married him. After Ethan was born, everyone told me how lucky I was. At first, I was content, and then the darkness settled in. With the help of my beloved sister, I was able to rein in the pain and come out of the dark tunnel into the light. Now that the twins are here, I’ve more than fulfilled my duties to my husband and yet... I can’t shake the feeling that I have failed all of them.”
I shook my head and shifted my position, anger at myself rushing to the fore. Sally had done everything she was expected to as a lady. The melancholy she’d experienced after Ethan had been sporadic. At first, I was concerned. Mother swore it was normal for a woman to feel melancholy after childbirth, and I’d believed her because the alternative didn’t bear thinking about. It was easier to blame my mother than to acknowledge my own guilt that I hadn’t taken Sally’s illness seriously.
Shame coursed through me as I read on.
“Ethan is too young to understand that I don’t have any desire to play with him as I once did. The twins take every last bit of energy I possess and each day is a struggle to get through. Noah keeps Ethan occupied but I cringe when I see the judgmental looks he casts my way. Lately, all we do is argue. I gave him three children. He should be grateful! I am sorry, my beloved Noah, I never meant to blame you for my weak character. You were concerned about my ongoing health and insisted on calling for the doctor to examine me again. It was very noble of you.”
All was not good between Noah and Sally. Caught up in the whirlwind of the season, I hadn’t been around to witness it. What a horrible sister I was. The next entry was dated two months into the season.
“Noah has received orders to set sail on the morning tide for his last voyage. After much discussion between us, he will be resigning his commission effective the end of June. His captain has asked him to see the ship to port in Scotland before he will return to London via train. At last, my dear husband will be permanently by my side. I pray that the devil that has a hand on my soul will be vanquished by his mere presence and I will once again bask in the light of joy.”
I skimmed the date of the last entry again and did a quick calculation in my mind. My throat was tight from trying to hold back the sobs. That was the last time Noah saw Sally alive. She’d died the day before he came home from Scotland.
“The doctor directed Mama to lock me in my room and demanded I be on bed rest. I must admit, I am relieved by his dictate. There is no more need for me to pretend I am interested in my children’s welfare. I am ashamed to admit it, but I hate the twins. God, please have mercy on my soul for hate is such a strong word. They’re my children but they stole my joy and I’m afraid it will never return.”
Oh, what pain she must have endured. Sally had been gentle and loving, with rarely a bad word to say about anyone. To hate her own children must have torn her apart. I scratched at my forehead, unable to comprehend such awful sentiment no matter how tortured Sally had been. I tried not to judge, but it was difficult to understand her state of mind.
“Ethan, sweet Ethan. He doesn’t understand. How could he? Mama will take care of him. She loves him more than she ever loved me, Amelia, or Albert. Where is Noah? He should be home by now. Or perhaps not. I’ve lost track of the days. Each oneblends into itself until night is day and day is night. I need to sleep now. The medication helps. It’s the only thing that helps, yet Mama has taken to doling it out. She doesn’t know I managed to hide a bottle when she wasn’t looking and now I will finally be able to sleep.”
I flipped the page, but it was blank. From the date scribbled at the top of the page in a heavier hand than anywhere else in the diary, this was the last entry. My gut twisted, and I fanned the remaining pages. By sleep, had she meant killing herself, or was it a metaphor? Mother had said she found Sally with the empty bottle. Noah had arrived home the day after Sally was found dead.
Everything stopped the day she died. I lifted the covers, clutching the journal to my chest. Sobs racked my body, and it was hard to breathe through the pain. My sister had lived a stark existence after the twins were born, and I’d been so self-absorbed I hadn’t seen her misery.
If she experienced such anguish, would I suffer the same fate once I bore Oliver’s child? A chill of dread washed over me, along with guilt. Once again, my focus had shifted from Sally’s pain to my own selfish musings. But my sister’s life wasn’t mine, and I couldn’t anticipate trouble until it was upon me. There was a chance I could suffer the same as she had and a great enough chance I wouldn’t. Either way, only time would tell.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lord Noah Peterson
I escorted Lady Gwendolyn down the aisle of the ancient chapel at Hayesford Hall, slowing my steps to match her smaller strides. The chapel was decorated with white flowers in celebration of Amelia and Oliver’s wedding. “I don’t understand why the ceremony was scheduled for such a late hour,” Lady Gwendolyn said with a disapproving frown.
“The Brimleys were delayed by the weather.” I had my doubts if it were truly the weather or some other manipulation by Lady Ellen. Lady Ellen had wanted me to marry Amelia, not Oliver. What her reasons were still baffled me.
Her daughter was marrying a duke.
Every mother in the kingdom was envious of the countess. Dukes were few and far between, and it wasn’t every day one was eligible to marry. I was a baron, the most common title among the aristocracy. Thus Lady Ellen’s logic didn’t make much sense. However, I had stopped trying to guess where Lady Ellen stood on matters. She greatly influenced Sally, while Amelia balked at being controlled by her mother.
