Seven Years to Sin(93)
“Of course.” His beautiful eyes were soft and filled with sympathy and love.
She breathed him in, absorbing the soothing scent of sandalwood and musk with that invigorating hint of verbena. She set her hands over his, grateful for him in so many ways. He anchored her in the midst of chaos, giving her the strength she needed to do the same for Hester.
“In the interim,” Michael said, “you should both reside with me. You have lived in the house longer than I have, Jessica, and the servants are well versed in your needs. It will be familiar to Hester. And my mother is there for now. She can be a great help, too.”
The report of a pistol broke the silence, followed by a bloodcurdling scream. Jess’s stomach lurched. She was running toward the stairs before she knew what she was about. Michael passed her on the first landing, but Alistair stayed with her, catching her arm just before they reached Hester’s room.
Dr. Lyon stood in the gallery, grim faced. He pointed at Hester’s door in front of him. “His lordship went in and threw the latch.”
On the other side of the door, Hester was still screaming.
Panic stole the strength from Jess’s knees, but Alistair held her up. Michael gripped the doorknob and rammed into the paneled wood with his shoulder. The frame creaked in protest, but the lock held fast.
The doctor spoke in a rush, his volume rising with every word. “He was unconscious in his bedchamber when I began the stitching. Then he woke … became enraged … asked after Lady Regmont. I told him to lower his voice, to calm himself. I explained his wife was resting after losing the babe. He went mad … ran from the room … I tried to follow, but—”
Michael rammed into the door again. The doorjamb cracked, but did not give way. Alistair joined him. Together they kicked the portal in unison, and it flew open with a thunderous crack. They rushed inside, followed by the doctor. Jess was swift on their heels, but Alistair pivoted agilely and caught her by the waist, carrying her back out to the gallery.
“Don’t go in there,” he ordered.
“Hester!” she shouted, struggling to look over his shoulder.
He clutched her trembling body close and held tight. “It was Regmont.”
As the possibilities sank in, Jess felt all the warmth leave her limbs. “Dear God. Hester.”
Hester curled against Jessica’s side and held on tightly. Cocooned in the counterpane of Jess’s bed in the guest room, she was still so cold.
Jess’s hand stroked over her head while whispering soft words of comfort. It seemed almost as if they were children again and Jess was providing the sense of safety and love Hester had only ever felt with her.
She ached everywhere. A bone-deep ache that stripped all the strength from her limbs. Her child was gone. Her husband as well. And she couldn’t feel anything but dead inside. It amazed her to sense her breath blowing past her lips. She would have thought such signs of life were beyond her.
“It was Edward at the last,” she whispered.
Her sister fell silent.
“He came into my room as the man I’d come to hate and fear. Wild eyed and brandishing that pistol. I felt such relief to see him. I thought, ‘Finally, the pain and sorrow will end.’ I thought he would be merciful and free me from it.”
Jess’s arms tightened around her. “You mustn’t think of it anymore.”
Hester tried to swallow, but her mouth and throat were too dry. “I begged him. ‘Please. Take my life. The babe is gone from me … Please. Let me go.’ And then it was Edward standing there. I could see it in his eyes. They were so bleak. He saw what he’d done when he wasn’t himself.”
“Hester. Shh … You need your r-rest.”
The telltale break in her Jess’s voice echoed through her. “But he didn’t spare me this agony. To the end he was selfish and thought only of himself. And yet I miss him. The man he used to be. The man I married. You do remember him, don’t you, Jess?” Her head tilted back to look up at her sister’s face. “You do recall the way he was long ago?”
Jess nodded, her eyes and nose red from tears.
“What does it mean?” Hester asked, lowering her chin. “That I am happy he’s gone, yet I am so sad … equally?”
A long stretch of silence ensued, then, “I suppose, perhaps, you miss the promise of what could have been, while at the same time you are grateful that what it was instead is over.”
“Perhaps.” Hester burrowed closer, seeking more of her sister’s warmth. “What do I d-do now? How do I g-go on?”
“One day at a time. You rise, you eat, you bathe, and you talk to the few people you can tolerate while feeling so wretched. Over time, it hurts a little less. Then a little less. And so on.” Jess ran her fingers through Hester’s unbound hair. “Until one morning, you will awake and realize the pain is only a memory. It will always be with you, but it will eventually lack the power to cripple you.”
Tears burned Hester’s eyes, then wet the bodice of Jess’s gown. Jess had climbed into bed with Hester fully dressed, offering the connection Hester needed before she even comprehended that she needed it.
“I suppose I should be happy,” Hester whispered, “that I am no longer increasing with my dead husband’s child, but I can’t be happy about it. It hurts too much.”