The Ruby in the Storm

Chapter 21: Storied Pasts

Chapter 21: Storied Pasts

Lucy sat at the dining table that morning, glancing around like a lost child. She wanted to feel like she had never left the place, but it was not familiar to her. This was not home.

She looked at her food and, though she was ravenous, she didn't know if she had the stomach to eat anything. But she needed to keep up her strength and force the food down somehow; she was no good to herself hungry.

Her mother came in with the assistance of her nurse a few minutes after Lucy managed to swallow down some fruit. Seeing her mother so frail and helpless made Lucy feel the slightest tinge of pity. She remembered mother as a woman tall and proud, ready to take on the world come hell or high water. This was not that woman. This woman was weak, broken and haunted, as if the sins of her past were eating away at her soul bit by bit. It was a heavy thing, Lucy realized, to see one's own idols fall so far, but for the past year, her mother had been anything but an idol to Lucy. So where did that leave her?

Her mother sat down as the footman placed a bowl of porridge before her. She had always hated porridge, but according to the physician, that was all her mother could eat.

"I remember when you were a little girl," her mother said, stirring the contents of her bowl, "you used to spend every waking hour at Dawn-Bridge. You said the porridge there was better, tastier than it was at home. I thought you were just trying to find an excuse to be with James. You two were always the best of friends."

Lucy fought back the rage of panic that surged through her and took a few gulps of water. "We were."

"What became of James? Did you see him when you went to Lanfore?"

Lucy stiffened. Her mother didn't know. It was hard to keep up with who knew what. She had to be careful.

"I saw him, he invited Beatrice and I to a ball."

"Oh, how delightful," her mother made it sound like anything but in her tone. "How is he?"

"How about you tell me something and I will trade with a story of my own," Lucy suggested. "As it is, mother, there is much to tell you. So much. But I cannot and will not disclose what went on in my life for the past year until you disclose everything that went on in yours before and after my birth. You owe me that."

Her mother pursed her lips and sighed. "Why must we rehash the past now, darling?"

"Mother, you said you would help me!"

"And I will! Of course I will. But over breakfast? It's hard enough to keep an appetite as it is these days without adding my storied past to the meal. Let us finish here and then I will tell you everything you need to know by the fireplace in the library. You like the library here, do you not?"

Lucy blinked then sighed and nodded. "I do."

"I could do with a nice, warm fire on these cold days," her mother said. "Your father used to light one himself most winter nights," upon seeing Lucy's expression, she clarified. "The father who raised you, Lucy, not the criminal."

Lucy gulped, feeling her heart race. "Of course. Did he..." She paused, not wanting to continue, not wanting to know the truth.

Still her mother, ever the shrewd woman even in her frail state, caught on. "He knew. He found out and confronted me about it. Angrily, might I add... It was a dark day."

"What... What did he say?" Lucy asked. "I know you do not want to speak of the past here, mother, but tell me this much at least. What did my father say when he found out about... Me?"