Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(72)

“No. There are many qualities I would ascribe to you, Father, but cowardice is not one of them.”

Edward continued resolutely. “There are things I've never been able to talk about because I find them painful…and I've punished you because of them.” His rusty voice contained a poignant regret that astonished Julia. It was a revelation, albeit a discomforting one, to see that her father was capable of such emotion.

“What things?” she asked softly. “What is it you want to tell me?”

“You've never known about…Anna.” The name seemed to leave a bittersweet taste on his lips.

“Who is she, Father?”

“She was your aunt…my sister.”

Julia was amazed. She had never known anyone in her father's family except a pair of uncles who had each married and chosen to live quietly in the country. “Why has no one ever mentioned her? Where is she now, and what—”

Edward lifted his hand to stop the flow of questions. Slowly he began to explain. “Anna was my older sister. She was the most beautiful creature on earth. If not for Anna, I would have had the most barren childhood imaginable. She made up games and stories to entertain me…she was a mother, a sister, a friend…she was…” Failing to find an appropriate word, he paused helplessly.

Julia listened intently. Her father had never spoken to her like this before, his face softening in reflection, his steely eyes turning hazy with memories.

“Neither of our parents was fond of children,” he said. “Not even their own. They had little to do with us until we had reached maturity, and even then we held little interest for them. Their only concern was that they had fostered a sense of discipline and duty in us. I can't say I had a fondness for them either. But I loved Anna…and I knew she was the only person in the world who truly loved me.”

“What was she like?” Julia asked in the silent interlude that followed. It seemed that Edward found it difficult to continue the narrative, memories entangling him in their fragile threads.

His gaze was unfocused, as if he were staring across a great distance. “She was wild and fanciful, very different from my brothers and I. Anna didn't care about rules or responsibilities. She was a creature of emotion, completely unpredictable. Our parents never understood her—she drove them mad at times.”

“What happened to her?”

“When Anna was eighteen, she made the acquaintance of a foreign diplomat who held a position at an embassy in London. He must have seemed the embodiment of all Anna's dreams. My father disapproved of the man and forbade Anna to see him. Naturally she rebelled and took every opportunity to sneak away and be with him. She fell in love as she did everything else…wholeheartedly, committing herself to him body and soul. But she had chosen unwisely. She…” A shadow came over Edward's face, and it seemed that he wanted to stop. He had said too much, however. Having come this far, he would follow the narrative to its painful conclusion.

“Anna conceived a child,” he said, strangling briefly on the words. “Her lover abandoned her after explaining that he was already married and had nothing to offer. My family abhorred any kind of scandal, and cast her out of our midst. It was as if she had suddenly ceased to exist. My father disinherited Anna, leaving her nearly destitute. She decided to leave for Europe to bear the consequences of her shame alone.

“Before she departed, she came to me. She didn't ask for money or any kind of help…only my reassurance that I still loved her. And I couldn't give it to her. I turned my back on her. I wouldn't even speak to her. And when she persisted in calling my name and trying to put her arms around me, I…called her a whore and walked away.”

Edward began to weep openly, the tears seeming to drain what strength he had left. “That was the last time I saw her. Anna went to France to stay with a distant cousin. Later we learned that she had died in childbirth. I managed to put her out of my mind for several years—it was either that or go mad thinking about her. Just when I had almost forgotten that she had ever existed, you were born.”

He blotted his face with a handkerchief, the stream of moisture from his eyes refusing to abate. “You looked so much like her that it shocked me every time I looked at you. I thought it a cruel twist of fate to see her in your face, your eyes…you were a constant reminder of my cruelty to Anna. And worse, you had her spirit, her way of looking at things. You were my sister reborn. I didn't want to lose you as I did her. I thought if I could make you more like me…sensible, serious, completely without imagination…then you would never leave me. But the more I tried to mold you, the more you resisted…the more like her you became. Everything I thought I was doing for your good was a mistake.”

Julia wiped a trickle of tears from her own cheeks. “Including the marriage to Lord Savage.”

“Especially that,” Edward agreed in a choked voice. “I thought it would leave you no choice except to become exactly what I wanted you to be. But you rebelled just as Anna did. You discarded your name and took to the stage, and worse, you became successful. I tried to punish you by disinheriting you…but that didn't seem to matter.”

“You're right, the money didn't matter,” Julia said, her voice unsteady. “All I wanted was for you to love me.”

Her father shook his head, the movement resembling the wobble of a broken toy. “I didn't want to love you if I couldn't change you. I couldn't bear the risk.”