He shook his head. “No, I’m afraid he’s out.”
“A pity. Did he say when he’d return?” I missed my father and would like to visit with him for a bit. My fight with Mother put a rift between us, and he seemed to end up in the middle.
“I believe your father made arrangements to dine at his club. Lord Peterson stepped out, but he’s expected to return shortly.”
The sound of his name sent a catch to my throat. I didn’t expect to see him; if I did, I assumed he’d be civil. Tears threatened to fall in earnest. I wanted more than civility from him. The one night we’d spent together still haunted me, and I ached for another chance to be with him. It was a foolish wish. “Thank you. I will go and see the twins.”
I lifted my walking skirt and rushed up the stairs, eager to see the boys. I missed the children, and even though I saw Ethan every day, it wasn’t the same. Nothing would ever be the same. The truth of Sally’s death was out there, and we all had to live with the consequences. A shriek of childish giggles spilled into the hallway, and I entered the nursery to see John chasing Sam. Sam shot across the room to the woman standing with her back to me. Mother.
My stomach dropped at the sight of her rigid frame, and I wanted to turn around and leave. John spied me, his face aglow with recognition. “Mia, Mia,” he said, rushing toward me. I lifted him high, smiling into his adorable face. “Amelia,” I corrected, aware of my mother standing a few feet away.
“Mia,” he said. “Mia home.”
“How is my sweet boy?” I pretended to drop him, and he giggled.
“Mia, Mia,” Sam threw himself at me, clinging to my leg. I bent down and lifted him in my other arm. I kissed Sam’s cheek and placed another peck on John’s. I loved them so much, and if I had any regrets about marrying, it was losing time with these precious boys.
“Down.” Sam wiggled in my arms, impatient as usual. I echoed his sentiment. If it weren’t s show of weakness, I’d leave the room.
Mother wagged her finger. “Please.”
“Down, please,” Sam said. I did as he asked, setting John on his feet as well. The two rushed over to the toy box and pulled out a toy horse which they proceeded to fight over. Sally and I rarely, if ever, fought. Albert, however, took great delight in tattling on us whenever he didn’t get his way.
I righted myself, dreading the upcoming conversation, or lack thereof. The silent treatment would almost be preferable. “I didn’t expect to find you home,” I said.
“I wasn’t in the mood to attend tea today,” she said, her hands folded in front of her. The lines around her mouth were more pronounced, the veins under her skin visible. She’d aged even more in the past week, and the stark black of her dress didn’t help. “How is Lady Gwendolyn fairing?”
“She seems to be recovering from her ordeal at the wedding.” I was still concerned about her health, but my marriage seemed to revitalize something inside her. Oliver had noticed a difference in her, and we both prayed she’d continue on her road to recovery. She wasn’t young, but she wasn’t ancient either.
Silence fell between us. I stared at the boys to avoid more conversation with Mother. Their fight over the toy ended, and Sam made horse sounds while John trotted on his imaginary pony. I had nothing to say to Mother and remained mute.
“I don’t hate you, Amelia,” she said in such a low whisper that I thought I’d imagined it.
I whipped my head around, my heart in my throat. Surely I misheard? She never told me she loved me. Not once that I could ever recall. “Beg pardon?”
“I don’t hate you, Amelia. When you were here last, you accused me of hating you. I don’t hate you.” She crossed herarms over her waist, her tired eyes shimmering with tears. Vulnerability rested there, along with defiance. “Nor did Sally hate her children.”
My stomach lurched, and I willed my knees to remain strong. She’d been complimentary of my sister and brother throughout my life but had been cool toward me, never once hinting at a softer emotion. If what I suspected were true, it would make sense. “You let it slip that the doctor did to her what I’m assuming a different doctor did to you. Did you suffer from melancholy after I was born? Is that why you carry such animosity toward me?”
I had to know the truth, no matter how hard it hurt.
For a long moment, she said nothing. The boys continued to play, oblivious to our conversation.
“Come and sit,” she said, moving to the rockers. Her back to me, I stared at her rigid form for a long moment, unable to fathom the turn of events. She slipped into a chair and offered me a pleading smile. Exhaling a long breath, I slid into the second chair and settled my hands in my lap.
“You assumed correctly. I had a slight case of melancholy with Sally and Albert. With you, I, well, I could hardly function. Everything felt like a chore and what should have been a happy time... I was miserable. You were a demanding child, and I tried, truly I did, but I just couldn’t take it. My mother called a doctor, and he prescribed bed rest and laudanum, only it made me sick, so I refused the medication. Eventually, the days no longer seemed bleak, and I resumed my duties. I naïvely thought Sally would follow in my footsteps, only...” A tear streamed down her cheek, and she brushed it away with her knuckle.
“She died.” The words were still like a knife twist to the chest. The air in my lungs constricted, and a sob threatened to escape. After Sally’s death, I cried until I no longer had any tears. Never once did Mother try to console me. Bitterness continued to warwith my need to forgive. I didn’t want to hold onto resentment; it could tear a person’s soul apart.
“Yes.” She nodded and wiped more tears with her fingertips, her hands shaking. I’d never seen her in such a state and could only stare at her, stunned. “I went to check on her, and she was...she was... Oh God...”
I reached over and clasped her hand, rubbing the back of it with my thumb. “It’s all right, Mother. You needn’t say more. I know what happened next.” I wished I were oblivious, but I had actively searched for answers and found them, every last harsh truth.
“No, you don’t, Amelia. Nobody, not even your father, knows the entire truth.” She flipped her wrist over and linked her fingers in mine. “Sally was alive when I found her. Her lips were blue, and there was bile on the bedding. I called the servant guarding her door and bid him to fetch a doctor. When I returned to the bed, she confessed her sin to me right before she took her last breath.”
“Why did you keep the diary?” Tears tightened my throat, and wetness trailed down my cheeks. Pain radiated from my chest and into my fingertips, the horrors in the journal returning to my troubled mind. Mother’s hand in mine was a comfort, and I was glad she hadn’t pulled away.
Mother lowered her head and set the rocking chair into motion. “It was hers, and I couldn’t bear to let it go. I put it in the trunk.”
