Chapter Twenty-Five

Daphne appreciated beyond expressing that Persephone allowed her to pass the brief carriage ride back to Falstone House in complete silence. It was a merciful gesture. She knew she would not be permitted to escape the reality of her discovery long. And as the falling out between her and James became known, there would be questions. So many questions.

They stepped inside just as Artemis came bounding down the stairs. “London is ever so much more fun than Shropshire,” she declared, rounding the corner and disappearing toward the back of the house.

“Is His Grace home, then?” Persephone asked the butler as they were divested of their outer coats in the front entryway.

“Yes, Your Grace. In his book room.”

“Excellent.” Persephone turned to Daphne. “I do not wish to abandon you, but—”

“Please, go greet him,” Daphne said. “I know you’ve missed him.”

Persephone made her way directly toward the stairs. For the first time since Adam’s departure from London more than a week earlier, Daphne saw a genuine smile on her sister’s face.

Daphne stood in uncomfortable indecision. Where ought she to go? How desperately she wished for her own room, her own bed to cry on. But Adam would demand a full accounting of her situation. She would rather not make that painful confession with her youngest sister listening in. Delaying the inevitable struck her as decidedly illogical, even if it was understandable from an emotional perspective.

“You have done quite enough thinking with your heart of late,” she told herself. “It is high time you remembered how to lead with your head.” Daphne nodded to herself, hoping to solidify her determination. She did not allow the slightest slump in her posture as she followed Persephone’s path. She reached the book room door only a moment after her sister did.

Persephone lightly rapped on the door as she slowly opened it.

“I told you, Hampton, I did not wish to be disturbed today by anyone regardless of their business with me.” Adam sounded thoroughly annoyed. That would make their coming interview all the more uncomfortable.

Persephone did not seem particularly put off by his tone. “Oh, but my business with you is of a most crucial nature,” she said from the doorway.

Adam’s head snapped up and turned in the direction of the door. “Persephone.” He whispered the name almost as though it were a prayer. He abandoned his papers and desk and crossed the room. His intense gaze never left Persephone’s face. “You”—he took her face in his hands—“are never again to remain behind when I leave Town. Ever.”

Daphne stepped back into the corridor, uncomfortable for the first time with their poignant display of affection. She used to watch them and daydream of receiving the same tender regard. Those moments of wishful imaginings had been easier before James had made her believe those hopes could actually become reality.

She stood against the wall beside the book room door, taking long breaths and attempting to maintain her fragile calm. Tears served no purpose anymore. The time had come to be rational.

She could hear Persephone’s voice once more. Adam had apparently concluded his greeting enough for her to speak. “I was not expecting you for several days yet.”

“You were so busy leaping from one social event to the next, you were not even here when I arrived,” Adam countered. “It does not seem to me that I was at all missed.”

Daphne inched her way back into the doorway, her heart hurting a tiny bit more at the sight of her sister and brother-in-law quite happily in one another’s arms.

“Would you like me to get back into the carriage and ride about a bit longer so you can fully appreciate my return?” Persephone’s teasing tone would normally have brought a smile to Daphne’s face. Adam brought out a side of Persephone’s personality that was decidedly lighter than Daphne remembered seeing in all their growing-up years.

“If you so much as set one foot out of this house, I will have you locked up.” Adam, of course, sounded entirely serious. His expressions of affection were usually grumbled and, to those who did not know him well, often sounded vaguely threatening.

“You are pleased, then, to have me home?”

“Infinitely. Though the staff indicated you would not be back for a few more hours. What brought about the early return?”

Daphne squared her shoulders. She would not force Persephone to make the explanation. She took a single step inside the book room, near enough to be heard but at a distance that hid her red-rimmed eyes. “I asked that we return early.”

Adam looked away from Persephone, his gaze meeting Daphne’s. “You asked? How strange. I was half convinced I would be required to pry you away from Techney House by sheer force, considering your Lord Tilburn was there.”

She did not allow herself to so much as twinge at his excessively dry tone. Adam did not know how deeply she’d been hurt. Daphne did not intend to allow anyone to realize how desperately she’d wanted James to love her. The only thing more pathetic than a girl who had never been loved was one who wrongly thought she had been. She refused to spend the remainder of her life an object of pity. “As the purpose of my attending the various functions at Techney House these past weeks was to further explore the possibility of a match between myself and Lord Tilburn, my presence there no longer seemed necessary.”

Adam stood beside Persephone with his arm comfortably around her waist. The two of them watched her with growing confusion and concern.

“You no longer welcome Lord Tilburn’s suit?” Persephone asked.

“It seems we would not suit after all.” She had often heard young ladies give just that explanation when a potential beau did not prove to be “the one.”

“What utter rot.” Anyone other than Adam would have rolled their eyes when using a tone of voice that so required the gesture. He never stooped to such a thing. “Though I had my misgivings, even a simpleton could see you two suit each other better than most courting couples.” Adam’s look of disbelief spoke volumes against Daphne’s chances of escaping without being forced to provide a drawn-out explanation.

Still, she attempted to circumvent that unpleasant outcome. “As I said, we would not suit.”

He shook his head. “That argument won’t do. Try another one.”

“We really would not suit.”

Adam sat on the edge of his desk, keeping Persephone’s hand in his. “This seems a rather drastic change.”

A bit of redirection was more than called for. “I don’t imagine she has told you, but Persephone has been quite ill during your brief absence from London.”

“You were ill?” Adam was immediately consumed by this newest revelation, just as Daphne had known he would be. He cared about his sisters-in-law, but he treasured his wife. Her well-being would trump that of any other person’s on earth. “How ill? Do I need to summon a physician?”

“I consulted with one several days ago.”

That was news to Daphne. Why had she not been included? Her role in the family’s health was long established. Yet she had not been told of this latest development, one serious enough to warrant the services of a physician.

“Why was I not sent for?” The concern in Adam’s voice took some of the edge from his demanding tone.

“For the simple reason that my various complaints, while something of a misery, are not the least unusual for a woman who is soon to be a mother and need not cause concern in her husband”—her tone softened—“who is soon to be a father.”

“A father?” His brow pulled deep, his eyes searching his wife’s face. For once in all the years Daphne had known him, Adam appeared at a loss for words. “It has been seven years. I assumed—”

Persephone leaned her head against his chest. “So had I.”

Adam pulled her into an embrace, his expression equal parts awe and affection. “We’re to be parents?” he whispered.

“You are happy, then?” she asked from within the circle of his arms.

“Oh, Persephone.” The two words emerged on a shaking, quiet breath.

Daphne slipped quietly from the room. She had intended only to provide a distraction by bringing up Persephone’s illness. Instead, she had forced upon them a conversation her sister had likely hoped to undertake with more privacy.

They were to be parents. Though neither had told Daphne as much, she felt certain their hearts had broken over the past years worrying and wondering and wishing over the possibility of children. She was deeply happy for them both. Fate meant to be kind to at least some of the members of this family, and for that she was truly grateful.

She walked down the corridor to the drawing room, knowing it would be empty and therefore quiet. She took one step inside and realized she was wrong.

A young naval officer with golden curls and familiar green eyes stood near the window, smiling at her as she walked in. Her heart flipped about in her chest. Linus had arrived at last.

“I had hoped Adam wouldn’t entirely monopolize your time,” he said with a grin. “He is only a brother-in-law, after all. My claim on your attention is certainly greater.”

“Good afternoon, Linus.”

“Good afternoon, Linus? I have been away at sea for half a year, and all I am to expect is a halfhearted Good afternoon, Linus?” He tsked and shook his head, his trademark smile never slipping. “No doubt you would have had an embrace for Evander.”

“Evander would not have teased me.” Indeed, Evander would have embraced her.

“Guilty.” Linus sighed. “Could you not spare me the slightest bit of sisterly affection—I am quite starved for it, I assure you.”

“If you are in need of overt displays of adoration, I am certain Artemis would oblige you. Such things are far more her forte than mine.”

Linus crossed closer to her. He had grown since she had last seen him, and not just in height. The navy, it seemed, did not produce scrawny men. She was absolutely dwarfed by him. “You have been crying,” he said, his tone changing quickly to one of concern. “What has happened?”

“Nothing that an afternoon nap won’t address.” How easily the lie slipped off her tongue. She had no intention of telling all the world the true state of her heart.

“After all Adam’s grumblings about you being ‘so blasted cheerful’ and having some lordling courting you, I fully expected to see you bouncing about the place, humming and dropping flower petals in your wake,” Linus said.

“You expected to see me acting like an imbecile?”

He chucked her under the chin. “Are you feeling grumpy today, Little Daphne?”

She turned away. “Don’t talk to me as though I were a child, Linus. I am eighteen years old. Just because I am small—”

He nimbly stepped around her, stopping directly in front of her. With an apologetic smile, he said, “I hadn’t meant to hurt your feelings. And bear in mind, I have only seen you a handful of times since you were eight. I forget sometimes that you have quite grown up over the past decade.”

She nodded. The mistake was understandable when looked at logically. “I am always surprised at how very much you change between visits.”

“I grow handsomer each time, is that it?” He chuckled even as he tucked foppishly at his cuffs. Linus always did enjoy making others laugh. She liked that about him, though she acutely missed Evander’s tender constancy.

“How long before you must return to sea?” she asked. “I daresay your leave will be cut short considering the situation with the former colonies.”

“Actually, that is why I had hoped to intercept you.” His jovial expression sobered once more.

“Has something happened?”

“Come sit with me a moment,” Linus said, indicating the nearby sofa. When she obeyed, he followed and sat beside her. “I need your opinion on a matter of great importance.”

His uncharacteristic gravity made her uneasy.

“You have always had a very good head on your shoulders and, even as a child, showed remarkably good judgment. I have found myself in a difficult situation and could use some advice.”

“Of course.” She would do anything to help her family. In that moment, she welcomed the distraction as much as the opportunity to be of assistance.

“Father’s health has taken a decided turn for the worse,” Linus said.

“Adam hinted at that. How bad is he?”

Linus took hold of her hand as if offering strength in the face of bad news. Daphne’s heart crept into her throat.

“The physician does not expect him to live to the end of the year.”

He is dying. She blinked hard. How often had she tried to help him, to heal him? It was all for naught.

“At the risk of sounding insensitive,” Linus said, “the situation leaves me in a bind. I am Father’s only heir. The estate and all the responsibilities that go with it fall to me. It is my duty to return to the family seat and take up my role there, but—”

“But you also feel an obligation to the navy,” she said, thinking she understood.

“An obligation, yes, but a pull as well. I enjoy the sea. I enjoy the adventure and challenge. What would I do on land? It seems almost preposterous.”

“You have spent nearly half your life at sea, Linus. Of course living on land is a daunting prospect, perhaps even an unwelcome one at the moment.”

He sighed in audible relief. “Then I’m not merely a bad son?”

Daphne patted his hand. “Not at all. When you have spent years imagining your future one way, you cannot expect to let go of that without some resistance and—” Her stomach twisted at the painful realization that she might have been speaking about herself. “And regrets.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to end my naval career, but I also don’t know if leaving the estate behind won’t simply render me unable to focus enough to be of any use to the rest of the crew.”

Determining the direction of one’s future when one’s present has fallen completely to shambles—Daphne knew very well the overwhelming nature of that dilemma. “Perhaps you need to give yourself time to decide. When does your ship put out to sea again?”

“Three weeks.”

“And how long before its departure do you need to make your decision?”

Linus seemed to think a moment. “I could probably hold off on the decision up until two days before; that would allow for a very hasty trip to port if that is what I decide.”

“You simply need to decide to be calm about it.” Calm. Rational. “Think through what you want to do. Be logical.”

Linus nodded, looking calmer already. “It would probably help to talk to Adam about the needs of the estate and what condition it is in. And I may write to my captain, ask for his opinion on how much I might be needed on board.”

“Yes.” Daphne spoke as much to herself as to her brother. “Find where you are needed and in what capacity you are most likely to be happy.”

Linus wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a very brotherly squeeze. “Evander always did say you had more wisdom than the whole family combined. Thank you for sharing a bit of it with me.” He got to his feet, looking a little more himself but with a lingering hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “Now, one more nugget of knowledge, if you will. Where am I most likely to find Artemis?”

“She passed by just as Persephone and I reached home. I believe she was headed toward the back of the house, no doubt the garden.”

He smiled mischievously. “I believe I will see if I can startle her enough to produce one of her famous feigned swoons.” On that declaration, he made his way out of the room.

The day had begun on such a promising note, but then everything had fallen apart.

Father was dying. Though she’d not had his companionship for years, owing to the distance between them, both physical and mental, the thought of never seeing him again, never hearing his voice, drove a sharp shaft of pain deep into her heart.

What good were her remedies and tonics now? She would soon lose her father, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She closed her eyes against a flood of painful memories.

“Please drink it, Papa,” her nine-year-old self pleaded. “You will feel better.”

“I will be very quiet,” she, with her voice that was younger still, promised. “Only let me stay with you.”

Across a mere five years came her voice again. “Come live with us at Falstone Castle. Please. I cannot bear to leave you behind again.”

His response had seldom varied. “Leave me be. I am happier on my own.”

Her father preferred to not be with her. He was happier without her company. And he wasn’t the only one to leave her behind. Evander had. Linus had just now left without a backward glance. Adam and Persephone had their own lives, of which she was only a cursory part.

And James. James had been playing a role from the beginning. How was so much heartache to be endured?

“Find where you are needed.” She repeated her own advice.

But where was she needed? With Persephone consulting physicians without even a word of input from Daphne, something that in the past had generally always been done, her apothecary abilities didn’t seem likely to give her purpose amongst them, at least not to the extent they once had.

Her afternoons with Adam had seemed helpful to him, giving him someone with whom he could discuss ideas and philosophies and issues of the day. She was needed in that respect. In time, the child he and Persephone were now anticipating would likely take her place in that. Adam would have his own child to raise and care for.

Her happiness for her sister and brother-in-law came with an unexpected surge of something very like mourning. Their own family was expanding, and she would not truly be part of it.

A maiden aunt could be appreciated and enjoyed, but she would not really be needed. She would be unessential again, just as she’d been when she was a child. Evander would not be there to make certain she was noticed. Adam would be occupied with more personal concerns. Persephone, who had taken on the role of mother to Artemis when she was an infant, would take up that duty once more with her own child.

Daphne would have no place. She had learned as a child that usefulness went a long way to extending one’s welcome. Perhaps a more in-depth study of her herbs would make her an asset to the community around Falstone Castle. If the local families and the vicar and even the staff at the castle benefited from her knowledge and skills, then she would serve a purpose among them. And she would stay busy. Endless occupation left a person with far less time for focusing on regrets.