A Game of Hearts

Chapter 8

For the second time in four days, Alexander found himself back in front of the heavy oak doors of Haversholme Abbey. It was late at night now, and a low-hanging full moon illuminated the facade of the beautiful country house. Only a few windows were illuminated, and Alexander found himself hoping that his mother had already retired for the night. One family fight a day was enough for him; he didn't have the energy for another.

Johnston greeted him in the hall again, silently ordering a footman to bring Alexander's luggage to the main suite upstairs. Alexander almost ordered them to bring it to the guest rooms instead but was too tired to think the thought through before the footman had already disappeared with his belongings. Johnston asked him if any refreshments should be brought up before Alexander retired, but Alexander dismissed him, not wanting to cause more work for the staff than strictly necessary. Johnston nodded, bid Alexander goodnight and disappeared through a door leading to the servants' quarter. Alexander was alone in the hall again. He drew a deep breath, mentally preparing him for the coming day. No doubt it would take a toll on him, but he knew it was a necessary thing to do.

"Alexander," a voice said in the dark hallway, from a story up, and Alexander's face snapped up. He'd already trudged up the first flight of stairs to the floor where the master suite was located. From up above, where the dowager countess' suites were, Adelaide, cloaked in a white shawl, was standing at the balustrade of the staircase. "Why are you here?"

Alexander sighed.

"I've some business here to attend to," Alexander answered. He didn't have it in him right now to start a fight when he knew that his mother would, and kept his answers vague. Luckily, Adelaide accepted it, and the hallway fell silent again.

"You will no doubt expect me to move into a dower house at the first convenience, and I will happily oblige," Adelaide said, her tone much colder than the meaning of her words. "But you should know that Edward has never asked me to move."

"I won't ask you either," Alexander sighed, his hand on the railing of the balustrade. He cast a glance over the edge of the stone balustre, into the dark hall. If only he could turn around and leave the abbey this instance. "You can stay at Haversholme. I'll disappear and you won't have to think about it."

"Good," his mother said, "Now that your father and your brother are both dead, there is no reason for us to keep up this charade of familial affiliation."

Alexander fell quiet. He did not disagree, but his mother had always used a certain civility around him, albeit a cold one. He was used to her dismissiveness, but usually, it was more of an atmosphere, not a spoken truth. That she now spoke freely, confirming the thoughts of him that he had always suspected she felt, had a finality to it - and in a way liberating. It was like a stone fell from his chest, like a river forced from its path and finally finding its way back to the natural riverbed.

"I agree," he said, straightening his back. "I will return to the continent as soon as the business here is finished, and I'll hand you full control of the estate. You can do as you please with it."

Adelaide didn't say anything, just looked at Alexander with a look of old contempt and a novel sense of equality. It wasn't respect or any other kind of admiration, but instead, a silent acknowledgement that they could now speak freely of a long-held common agreement that they were two people brought together by fate, but owed each other nothing. Adelaide was finally set free from her responsibilities, which she had never willingly fulfilled anyway, and Alexander was free of the shame of never being enough in his mother's eyes. If one good thing had come from the death of Edward, this was it. They were no longer mother and son, just two strangers who happened to find themselves in the same room.