Chapter Twenty-Eight – A Ball to Remember
Seated across from her husband in their carriage on the way to his uncle’s house, Beth noticed that Tristan seemed lost in thought.
In the past fortnight, their relationship had slowly grown deeper. He had shared more and more of his childhood memories with her, of how he had been told of his father’s deeds as well as of the strange lapses of memory that sometimes occurred without warning. These shared moments had brought them closer and lessened the tension in his body as he relived the pain of his past. In comfort, Beth had wrapped her arms around him, whispering reassurances and encouragements in his ear.
And he had listened.
Every day, he embraced her with a little more confidence as though the fear he had harboured in his heart was slowly leaving.
“Are you all right?” Beth asked, watching him through slightly narrowed eyes. “Does something worry you?”
Tristan shook his head, and a proud smile came to his face. “Not at all. I am merely enjoying the moment.” He leant forward and reached for her hand. “I never thought to see the day when my uncle would finally approve of me, of something I’d done. It is an important night, and I am deeply touched that he would hold this ball in our honour. It says a lot about how he sees me.”
“That means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” Beth whispered, doubt in her mind about Mr. Turner’s intentions. Although she had not been able to find a reasonable explanation for tonight’s ball, deep in her soul, Beth did not believe that his uncle held Tristan’s best interest at heart. There was something in the way he looked at him that chilled Beth to her bones, and she vowed to be watchful this night.
“Of course, it does. They’re the only family I have left, especially now that my sister is gone.”
Seeing the pain over that loss only too clearly on her husband’s face, Beth knew that she had to find a way to bring the two siblings back together. So far Tristan was hesitant of writing to her, afraid that her rejection was more than he could bear. Beth, however, had no doubt whatsoever that his sister would come to his aid if she only knew of the danger to his heart and soul.
As they arrived at Mr. Turner’s townhouse, Tristan offered her his arm and escorted her up the stairs and into the foyer. There, they were met by their hosts. Dressed in their finest, Mr. and Mrs. Turner as well as their son stood, greeting their arriving guests.
“Ah, Tristan,” his uncle beamed, the corners of his mouth drawn upward into a strained smile−a rather unusual sight. “Welcome! Allow me to once more offer you my congratulations on finding such a wonderful wife. She truly is your match in every way, and I whole-heartedly believe that your parents would have been very happy for you.”
Speechless, Tristan stared at his uncle before a smile lit up his face and he embraced the man who had been the only father he had ever known.
Beth, however, was far from convinced that Mr. Turner’s rather unexpected declaration was anywhere close to what he truly thought. Throughout his whole speech, his eyes had remained cold and unaffected, matching the plastered smile that he had forced on his face. And if that had not been enough for Beth to believe that something truly disconcerting was happening right before her eyes, the stunned expressions on his wife’s as well as his son’s faces spoke volumes. What was going on?
Beth cringed when she saw how much Mr. Turner’s words meant to her husband, and she loathed the day Tristan would learn of his uncle’s motives. After all, judging from the spark of triumph in the man’s eyes, something else was going on to which they were not privy. Why was he holding this ball in their honour after spending weeks berating his nephew for marrying a maid? Why the sudden change of heart? Had he truly reconsidered?
Beth doubted it very much.
After Tristan procured them a drink, they stepped onto the terrace for some air. The darkening sky shone in bright colours as the night slowly descended upon the world.
“It is a marvellous night, is it not?” her husband remarked, his blue eyes sparkling with delight as he looked at her with such affection that Beth felt her knees go weak.
“It truly is,” she whispered, stepping closer and leaning into him as his arm came around her shoulders. Resting her head against his chest, she closed her eyes and for a moment enjoyed the soft breeze, the delightful music drifting through the doors as well as her husband’s warmth. “It truly is a marvellous night.”
And then Mr. Turner found them.
“Ah, there you are, Tristan,” his uncle exclaimed, gesturing to his son, who was trailing behind him. “People are asking for you.”
A moment later, Beth found herself standing beside Tristan’s aunt, watching her husband hustled back inside by his uncle and cousin, disappearing in the crowd. “Thank you for this wonderful night,” Beth addressed their hostess, her eyes watching the older woman’s face carefully. “It is rather obvious how much Mr. Turner’s approval means to my husband. I shall very much like to thank him properly.”
Barely meeting her eyes, Mrs. Turner drew in a deep breath. “There is no need, my dear,” she said, her shoulders suddenly tensing as though she very much wished she were elsewhere. “My husband is aware of Tristan’s gratitude.”
“Is he?” Beth asked, stepping into Mrs. Turner’s line of view, forcing her to meet her eyes. “I admit I was rather surprised to hear of this ball. After all, your husband has made it unmistakably clear that he does not approve of Tristan’s choice. Why the sudden change of heart? I admit I am somewhat confused.”
As the corners of her mouth slowly drew upward, Mrs. Turner gripped the glass in her hand more tightly, a touch of unease in her eyes. “I’m certain it was merely the shock of finding Tristan’s future so suddenly determined, my dear. He did not mean any offence to you, but was merely looking out for his nephew’s well-being. However, now that he has had a chance to get better acquainted with you, he sees what a kind and well-meaning woman you are. How could he object?” Patting Beth’s hand reassuringly, Mrs. Turner took her leave, claiming that she needed to tend to her guests. However, her hands trembled slightly and her skin was cold to the touch as though she had just escaped certain death.
Watching the older woman walk away, Beth frowned. How could he object? And yet, he did. Beth was certain of it. The only thing she did not understand…No, actually there were two things that did not make sense.
Why would Mr. Turner object to her so strongly, seeking to separate them even now that they were married? And why was he now pretending to have changed his mind?
Taking a turn about the rooms, Beth kept her eyes and ears open, certain that somewhere under Mr. Turner’s meticulous charade, the truth would lurk seeking to reveal itself. If only someone were there to see it!
While Mrs. Turner wandered from room to room, making certain that the evening went as planned, Beth spied Tristan by his cousin’s side as they stood with a group of gentlemen conversing and laughing. Seeing the smile on his face, Beth sighed. Seldom had she seen him so relaxed, and she regretted the doubt that lived in her heart. If only all of this could be true. If only her husband had finally regained his family’s approval. If only they could be happy now.
Closing her eyes for a moment, Beth drew in a deep breath. Even though she wished she could pretend, she knew that a lie could never lead to happiness. It might live on, stay hidden for years and years, but one day, it would be revealed as certain as the sun rose in the east. After all, was not that what her mother’s betrayal had taught her? That lies always found a way of revealing themselves, and that the longer they were kept, the harder it would be to recover.
Beth shook her head. No, she could not pretend. She needed to know the truth.
Craning her neck, she began to search the rooms for Mr. Turner, certain that only he knew what exactly was going on. As much as his wife might suspect something, Beth doubted that anyone truly knew what lived in Mr. Turner’s heart.
Stopping, Beth frowned as she spotted her husband’s friend, Lord Ainsworth, standing half-hidden in a corner of the room, his eyes trained on Tristan, an unsettling frown on his face as his dark gaze watched the scene with displeasure. Beth had wondered why he had not accompanied them, and yet, here he was. Why?
Her eyes narrowed as she continued to watch him, noting the lines of concern around his eyes as his gaze shifted from Tristan to his cousin Matthew. Quite obviously, her husband’s friend felt a certain unease regarding her husband’s family as well. Beth had seen this in his demeanour before, and yet, he had come to the ball. He was watching Tristan, barely letting him out of his sight. Whenever Tristan moved, making his rounds through the room, his friend moved as well, repositioning himself, his eyes always watchful.
A gentle smile came to Beth’s face, remembering how her husband had spoken to her of his memory lapses, of the many fights he had been in, how he had even been robbed three times in the last few years. However, in all those instances, his friend had come to his aid as though out of nowhere, and Beth realised as she watched Lord Ainsworth that−for a reason she did not know−he would do what he had to to ensure Tristan’s safety.
Knowing that made her breathe more easily, and she found the strength to turn away from her husband and search the crowd for his uncle, knowing that Tristan was not alone.
At first, her search seemed futile as she could not spot the older man with the rotund middle and narrowed eyes in any of the rooms. However, when she finally stepped closer to a smaller room off to the side where a gaming table had been set up, she heard his voice echo to her ears as though he was yelling at the top of his lungs. In truth, he was speaking almost in hushed tones, a sense of caution to his voice.
With her back pressed to the wall, Beth inched closer to the doorway, ignoring the raucous laughter almost swallowing up his voice.
“It is truly sad to see him walk down the same path as his father,” Mr. Turner said, his head bent in confidence toward an elderly gentleman, who listened intently. “I had truly hoped that our influence all those years would have been enough to save him. However, recently I have come to accept that there is very little we can do. The madness lives in his blood, and I fear that not even the bonds of family are enough to protect him from it.”
The breath caught in Beth’s throat at the betrayal she witnessed. So, it was true! Tristan’s uncle had not had a change of heart, but merely pretended to have come around. In truth, he sought to poison the Ton’s mind against his nephew. The only question was why? What did he gain from destroying his nephew’s reputation?
Over the course of the evening, Beth watched and listened as Mr. Turner continued making his rounds, speaking to various gentlemen as well as older ladies in confidence, relating his nephew’s precarious state of health and uttering his regret at watching his misery.
“He often seems so kind-hearted and well-behaved,” Mr. Turner said, a hint of sorrow on his round face as he leant closer to an elderly matron. “However, there are moments when fits of anger seize him, and I hardly recognise the boy I raised in the man before me. All I see in these moments is my poor brother and the madness that drove him away from his loving family and into that fateful hunting lodge where death found him.” Shaking his head, Mr. Turner sighed, “I fear my hands are tied.”
As her own hands balled into fists, Beth continued to follow Mr. Turner, her anger growing with each lie he told. Fits of anger? Never had she seen Tristan lose his temper, not even when he had been too deep in the cups. Always had he been gentle and considerate of her, terrified of doing anything that might cause her pain.
“My son and I have always sought to help him deal with his temper;” Mr. Turner continued his scheme, “however, I’m afraid my nephew is quite reluctant to accept help. If he does not come to realise the precarious situation he finds himself in, I fear it will be too late to save him. After all, there is only so much a family can do. It’s his father’s bad blood.” Sighing rather theatrically, Mr. Turner hung his head. “It’s a tragedy that he never had the chance to become a better man.”
Gritting her teeth, Beth stepped away, unable to listen to another word lest she do something unwise and confront Tristan’s uncle in front of all these people. After all, what could she do? Naturally, he would deny any accusation laid at his door, and just as naturally, people would believe him over her. Was not she only a maid?
Returning to the ballroom, Beth found her husband still in the company of his cousin. However, the moment she set foot into the room, his eyes shifted to her as though he had sensed her approach.
Despite her agitated state of mind, a smile drew up the corners of her mouth, and Beth could feel her heart jump with joy as he immediately excused himself and came toward her, his eyes shining like two stars in the night sky.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he whispered, drawing her arm through his, his body leaning into hers in a most intimate way. “After all, I’ve not yet had the opportunity to dance with my wife.”
At the husky tone in his voice, Beth felt herself shiver, all thoughts of Mr. Turner forgotten as her husband led her onto the dance floor. The musicians began to play a waltz, and Beth rejoiced. Ever since there first and only dance together, Beth had secretly wished for one such opportunity.
As her husband gently slid his hand to her back, holding her close, Beth drew in a shaky breath and a luminous smile came to her face. His gaze burned into hers as his other hand closed over hers gently, and yet, with a hint of possessiveness that made her wish they were alone in the room.
A moment later, they floated across the floor as though dancing on air. Their eyes saw nothing but the other, their bodies linked, and the world fell away.
It was a perfect moment.
If only it could last.