Miss Lavigne's Little White Lie (18 page)

“Enough of this foolishness. It is past time we spoke of Cecily and set things to rights. I shall summon you on the morrow. Be ready.”

She walked away before the music ended, leaving him alone to face the curious stares of the other guests.

Seventeen

Daniel paced the gallery as he waited for Cecily’s parents. He stopped to check his watch. Was this part of their punishment? To build up his dread until he wanted to climb the walls? He started to put his watch away, but checked it once more to reassure himself he hadn’t read it wrong.

Blast
and
damn.
Cecily’s parents had kept him waiting for twenty minutes. He shoved the watch deep into his pocket and jerked on his waistcoat to adjust it. He just wanted to get the whole damned affair settled once and for all. For five years, he had been waiting for this confrontation. Waiting for Cecily’s parents to level accusations at him. Waiting for someone to acknowledge what he had done.

Daniel reached the end of the gallery and stopped to gaze at the azure waters on the horizon. Calm settled over him like an early morning mist blanketing the seas he loved. Finally, he could speak the truth and maybe free himself from the prison Cecily’s death had built around his heart.

He returned to stand before the paintings on the wall. Cecily’s translucent blue eyes stared out from her portrait, her smile mocking. He hated that bloody portrait. It marked the moment the sweet child her parents had spoken of in past encounters had transformed into a coldhearted creature and, in turn, altered him.

Daniel abhorred the man he had become since Cecily’s death. No, that was untrue. He hated himself the moment he didn’t toss her from his chambers. And he’d hated the husband he had been to her, becoming distant like his father when she had turned him away.

A swish of skirts wrenched him from his self-recriminations. Cecily’s mother glided across the polished marble floor. “I apologize for keeping you waiting. Shall we take a turn about the gardens?”

He looked past her shoulder for signs of the governor. “Will His Excellency be joining us?”

She twined her arm with his and guided him toward the glass doors at the far end of the gallery. “My husband must never know of our conversation,” she whispered as they walked outside into the sunlight.

Daniel’s heart sped up a beat. “Why?”

“Promise me, Daniel.”

He nodded, unsure if he was wise or foolish to give his consent, but unable to deny his need to hear her out. “I give my word.”

In silence, they retreated deep into the gardens. The ocean glittered in the distance and a faint breeze cooled his forehead.

“I cannot allow this to go on any longer.” The lady’s voice wavered. “I’ve caused you undue suffering, and this knowledge destroys me inside.”

“You have caused
me
suffering?” Her words made no sense.

“Yes, I have done this to you. I’ve allowed you to blame yourself for my daughter’s death when I am the one at fault.”

Never once had he stopped to consider that Cecily’s mother might blame herself. “You had nothing to do with Cecily dying.”

She laced her fingers as if praying and pinched her eyes closed. “I did,” she murmured. “I didn’t intend to, but because of me, my daughter is dead.”

This was madness, the aftermath of sorrow. Grief could play strange tricks on one’s mind. Reaching out, Daniel patted her shoulder. The gesture seemed inadequate, a halfhearted attempt at comforting her, so he gathered her in a hug. Part of him wished he could hand over the burden of his guilt to Cecily’s mother, but he never would. “Your only mistake was in surrendering your daughter to my care. I failed her, not you. I never should have insisted she leave Port Albis.”

When she pulled away, her eyes were flooded with tears. “Cecily’s rightful place was by your side. She was your wife, Daniel. She made her choice when she stole into your bed while you slept.”

“How did you—?” He bit back his reply. It didn’t matter any longer. Cecily was gone, and he wouldn’t add to her mother’s suffering by tainting her memory.

The first lady shook her head, a rueful smile in place. “I knew my daughter well. Your silence does not protect her. I loved her dearly, but I was never blind to Cecily’s failings. Not like her father was.”

Her intense pale gaze held Daniel in place. “I realized the circumstances that led to my daughter’s presence in your chambers as soon as I learned of the incident. Cecily didn’t require enticement, and I’m certain she orchestrated her discovery.”

Daniel frowned. The poor woman had weaved a twisted tale in her mind. Cecily wouldn’t have planned her ruin, not with him. Her disdain still felt like a punch to the gut.

“Your daughter never wished to marry me. She wouldn’t have arranged to be found.”

Cecily’s mother shrugged and sank down onto a stone bench nestled among a bed of herbs. “I can only speculate on what went through her mind. She was a complicated creature.”

That seemed a kind word to describe his wife, but he agreed that there had been nothing easy about Cecily.

Her mother stared into the distance. “She was unhappy with some of her father’s decisions. Perhaps she protested through her actions or thought to change his mind. I cannot fathom that she believed her father would force her into marriage, especially if the union would take her from home. He spoiled her beyond what was correct, but what was he to do under those circumstances? She shouldn’t have tested him.”

Daniel joined Cecily’s mother on the bench and inhaled the pungent scent rising from the herbs. Cecily was a mystery he’d been trying to puzzle out for years. To hear her mother hadn’t understood her any better eased his conscience.

What he
had
comprehended about his wife was her distaste for marriage and despair at leaving Port Albis. Even after their passionate interludes aboard ship, she would beg to return home. He had sensed she used those moments when he sought a connection with her to bend him to her will, but he had been powerless in the beginning to resist her.

He had wanted to love Cecily, to be an adequate husband when he’d taken his vows, to save her from whatever lingered behind those expressionless eyes. But in the end, he had hardened his heart toward her. It had seemed the only means of his survival.

When Cecily had complained of feeling ill, Daniel had discounted it as another attempt at manipulation. It wasn’t until she was too sick to recover that he’d realized his folly in not alerting the ship’s surgeon. She succumbed to illness two days later, having refused to hear his apologies.

His hand found her mother’s and wrapped around her slender fingers. “Indulgence didn’t cause your daughter’s death.”

Her gaze swept over his face, a groove etched into her brow. “Please, tell me what happened. You mentioned before that she became ill.”

“A stomach ailment.”

She nodded. “I see.”

He looked away, focusing on the purple flowers against the green of the herb. He didn’t wish to see her expression when he told her the rest. “If I had acted sooner—I should have called for the surgeon. Perhaps something could have been done to save her.”

Her tears fell on their joined hands. “She still would have succumbed to the illness. The damage had been done before you took her away.”

Daniel sighed and offered her a handkerchief. This conversation was accomplishing nothing. He began to suspect Cecily’s mother saw herself in competition with him for most vile creature on earth, and it was his title to defend. “If I may be blunt…”

“When are you not, dear boy?”

Fair
enough.
“I think this entire affair has rendered you a bit touched in the head.”

She jerked the handkerchief from his grasp to dab at her cheeks. “I’m in full possession of my faculties, sir.”

He suppressed a smile. His comment hit its mark and elicited the response he desired. Perhaps he was being selfish, but he preferred her irritation to her consuming sorrow.

“Everything started a year before your marriage,” she said. “I intercepted a message meant for the governor. It was from the blackguard we had hired to paint Cecily’s portrait.”

Daniel’s fingers curled into fists. Any involvement with that devil didn’t bode well.

“He claimed Cecily had posed for a risqué portrait, and he threatened to display it for public viewing unless we paid the price he demanded. All I had in my possession was my pin money, but I promised to pay him over time. It took me months, but after I paid the last installment, he released her portrait. I still can’t believe Cecily degraded herself in such a manner. I couldn’t possibly have allowed her father to learn the truth.”

She folded the cotton square embroidered with Daniel’s initial and picked at the threads. “His Excellency worshiped our daughter. Cecily was his most prized possession. I decided no one could ever see her like that. The knowledge would have destroyed my husband.

“When I confronted her with the evidence, she admitted to her wrongdoing. She swore she loved the deplorable man and wished to marry him.” The first lady’s face flooded with color. “She said he had compromised her, but claimed they had used precautions. Good heavens. She shouldn’t have known anything of such a nature.”

“I’ll kill him,” he muttered.

“I am afraid someone else has already done the honor in Nassau.”

The slow burning fury inside him wasn’t squelched. Somehow, it didn’t seem good enough that the man met with an early demise, not after the suffering he had caused Cecily’s mother.

She sniffled. “Almost a month before your ship docked, Cecily came to me in confidence. She carried the artist’s child, and she was despondent. He didn’t want children, and she feared he would toss her aside if he learned of her condition. When I refused to assist her with ending the pregnancy, she threatened to end her life.” Her mother grasped his hand and leaned toward him. “Daniel, the look in her eyes…”

“I understand, Your Excellency.” He had innocently speculated on how many sons Cecily might bear him the night she had perched on the balcony railing and threatened to throw herself into the sea. She had been like a cornered, wild animal.

Her mother wiped her eyes. “Given the choices, I procured an herbal remedy to assist her, but I demanded she end her association with the man. Her father would never allow her to marry him. He had already denied his suit. All the man wished to know was the amount of Cecily’s dowry.” She sighed and all life seemed to drain from her. “Cecily promised to ingest only the small amount as directed. I should have known not to trust her. It wasn’t until she prepared for your departure to England that I learned what she had done. She requested more for the journey because she had ingested the entire jar in three days. She reasoned that she hadn’t seen results as quickly as she had wished and therefore needed to take more.”

“And you believe this killed her many weeks later?” He shook his head and stood. It was time to put an end to this conversation. He couldn’t allow her mother to carry his burden, no matter how badly he wished to hoist it on someone else. “Cecily died from tainted food and my neglect to summon the surgeon soon enough.”

The first lady tipped her head to the side and looked up at him. “Did any of your crew suffer from the same effects? Did any of them die?”

“No, but they were all men. We’re stronger. We don’t easily succumb to ailments.” He offered his hand. “We should return now.”

She accepted his assistance and rose from the bench. They moved arm in arm toward the mansion. “Comfrey is a dangerous herb. I had to know what might happen to her after I learned what she had done. My source told me ingesting too much brings on a liver ailment, symptoms that appear to be a stomach illness.”

Daniel stopped and looked into her troubled eyes.
Good
God.
She wasn’t grasping at loose threads after all, was she? She spoke with sincerity and a quiet pain that comes with knowing the awful truth.

“Please, I must know if I’m correct. Would you describe her pallor as having been yellowish?”

His mouth felt dry and he tried to swallow. Cecily’s complexion had been disconcerting, an unnatural pallor that still made him shudder. Was there nothing he could have done to save her? “Aye, she bore a yellowish tinge.”

“The comfrey—dear heavens, her death
is
my fault. I killed her.” She choked on a sob.

Placing a comforting arm around her shoulders, Daniel supported her weight. To feel responsible for another’s death was a special torment he didn’t wish upon her.

After a while, she hugged him close and patted his back in an affectionate gesture mothers reserved for their sons. “I hope someday you may find it in your heart to forgive me for keeping this horrible secret.”

Daniel might have mustered the energy for indignation, but for the first time in years, the dark cloud casting his life in shadow had lifted a little. All he felt was gratitude to her for opening his eyes to the possibility he might be blameless. “There is nothing to forgive, Your Excellency.”

He offered his arm and began escorting her back to the house.