Chapter Thirty-Six – Family Honour
Standing in the clearing, dense forest on all sides to shield them from curious onlookers who might pass by−as unlikely as that was at this hour−Tristan felt weary. What was he doing here?
Glancing at his cousin, he could not help but think that Matthew regretted the events that had led them there as much as he did himself. Only his uncle appeared unaffected as he prepared the two pistols that would soon threaten his son’s as well as his nephew’s lives. Did he truly not care?
“For whatever it’s worth,” Tristan spoke into the brisk morning air, “I’m sorry.”
Matthew lifted his head, the look in his eyes one of regret before he nodded in acknowledgement as well as agreement. “As am I.” Then he looked at his father, and his mouth opened.
Glancing at his son, Mr. Turner rose to his feet as he closed the small case that had held the duelling pistols, which now rested in his hands. “Both of you are good men,” he said, a strange gleam in his eyes as he stepped toward them. “However, a commitment once agreed upon cannot be undone by regret. It is your duty to see this through and act wiser in the future so that such an event will never occur again.” He looked at his son, his eyes narrowed and scrutinising, before he turned to Tristan. “Do you understand?”
Both men nodded.
Tristan closed his eyes as a sense of detachedness washed over him. All of this felt like a dream, and he hoped with all his heart that someone would wake him. However, when he opened his eyes, he still found himself in the small clearing in Hyde Park, his cousin only a few feet across from him, his face so solemn and miserable that Tristan felt the urge to comfort him.
And yet, his uncle seemed almost excited.
As he stepped forward, a pistol in each hand, he could barely hide his contentment, seemingly not worried in the least. Then he held out a pistol to each of them.
Tristan frowned as he glanced down at the shiny object that he was to point at his cousin and use to send a bullet into his heart. Then he looked at his uncle and suddenly knew without a doubt that honour had very little to do with why they were there this day. All his life, Tristan had been fed society’s rules, a gentleman’s code of conduct as well as his uncle’s own ideas of suitable behaviour, and all his life, Tristan had done his best to comply without question, knowing that it would be the only way to win his uncle’s respect and approval.
But, this was wrong.
“Are you not experiencing the least bit of concern for us?” Tristan asked the moment his cousin stepped forward and reluctantly reached for the pistol, his eyes cast downward. “If not for me, then at least for you son?”
At Tristan’s words, his uncle’s head snapped up, and he whirled around, both pistols clutched in his hands as his gaze narrowed. “Of course, I am. However, I do not allow my behaviour to be dictated by emotional desires and forget the respect I owe my family.”
“What respect?” Tristan demanded, noticing that his cousin’s eyes held the same confusion he felt in his own heart.
His uncle’s gaze narrowed as his lips pressed into a tight line, and his cheeks became flushed with anger. “The respect you should have shown to your family before any of this had even happened,” he growled out. “You did this! You’re the reason we’re here!”
Despite the anger that had seized Tristan at the realisation of how foolish they were acting, he could not ignore the sting of guilt that his uncle’s words caused. Had it not always been such comments that had driven him to do foolish things in the first place? Had the situation not often seemed almost hopeless, leading Tristan to believe that no matter what he did, nothing would satisfy his uncle?
As he continued to hold his uncle’s accusing gaze, Tristan was surprised when his cousin stepped forward, the look on his face one of calm resolution. “Tristan is right, Father,” he said, his eyes meeting Tristan’s, and he nodded his head at him. “We should go home. This is a foolish endeavour. Nothing is worth the loss of either our lives.”
At his son’s words, Mr. Turner spun around, the colour of his face darkening even more. “Are you mad? This is a matter of family honour!”
Matthew frowned. “How is this family honour? Do you truly want me to kill my cousin? Or be killed by him? How is killing one’s own kin honourable?”
Relief washed over Tristan at his cousin’s words, and he stepped forward, nodding his head in agreement. However, when he glimpsed the snarl that distorted his uncle’s face, he felt reminded of the look of madness in his father’s eyes that his uncle had always spoken of, and a cold shiver ran down his back.
“Take your places!” his uncle snarled as he lifted the two pistols in his hands, one pointing at each of them. “That’s an order! I’m the head of the family,” he screamed at them. “Do as I say!”
Stunned beyond comprehension, Tristan stared at his uncle. Never had he seen him so enraged. Gone was the man who had always seemed so collected and calm, rationally arguing with or sensibly convincing him of his wrongdoings.
Looking just as astonished, Matthew slowly shook his head, his gaze holding his father’s. “I do not know nor can I understand why you hold such hatred in your heart, Father, but I will not kill my own cousin nor die trying.” Lifting his gaze, he stepped toward Tristan and held out his hand. “We may not always agree, but I do believe that you’re a good man, and I’m proud to call you family.”
As his heart swelled with pride and joy, Tristan nodded his head eagerly, then grasped his cousin’s hand. “You truly are a fine man, Matthew, the brother I never had.”
For a long moment they looked at each other, a new understanding forming between them, when frantic laughter suddenly shattered their bonding moment.
Almost flinching, Tristan stepped back, his eyes coming to rest on his uncle, who clutched the two pistols in his hands as though they were a lifeline and he a drowning man. His face glowed red and his eyes had narrowed into slits, and Tristan once more felt reminded of his father and the madness that he himself had always feared might run in his blood. Did it affect his uncle as well?
“It does not matter,” his uncle sneered as he dropped one pistol into the grass and lifted the other to point at Tristan. “Whether you agree or not does not matter. You will still be dead.”
As the blood froze in his veins, Tristan stared at the pistol’s muzzle pointed at his chest and swallowed as his wife’s words echoed in his ears. Your uncle does not have your best interest at heart.
If he did not fear for his life, right then and there, Tristan would have laughed at the understatement. However, a moment earlier, his cousin’s words had once more given him hope, allowing him to see a future with the woman he loved, which now once again was called into question. If only he had seen this coming! If only he had listened to his wife! If only he had listened to his friend!
“Father, good God, what are you doing? Put down the pistol!” Stepping toward him, Matthew held out his hand. “Give it to me before you harm anyone.”
Stepping back, Mr. Turner shook his head. “I’m doing this for you, and one day you’ll thank me for it.”
“For what?”
“The title,” Tristan’s uncle sneered, satisfaction lighting up his face, “the fortune.” A grin stretched over his face. “Tristan will be killed in a fair duel. Everyone knows of the madness that runs in his veins, and no one will think to fault anyone but him. And then we shall have what we deserve. Finally!”