The Ruby in the Storm

Chapter 27: Spectacles

        

Chapter 27: Spectacles 

"Ross didn't say much while he was living with me," Charlotte said. "But I suppose that was because I didn't push hard enough for answers."

Abigail had since dozed off. Lucy had asked her mother time and again if she was well enough to travel, and even though every time she insisted that she was, Lucy managed to ask her mother's nurse to come along, just incase. She road next to the coach, Abigail was resting next to Lucy and Charlotte sat across from them. For most of the ride the two women discussed what had transpired since the night of James's death, and rehashing those memories was like a living nightmare for Lucy.

"When Ross spoke of what James tried to do to you..." Charlotte shook her head. "God, I have never seen that man so furious in my life."

"You should have seen his eyes that night afterwards," Lucy whispered. "They were so dead. It was as if he had shut down in order to cope. I feel I should have been the one doing that; I was the one who was nearly assaulted, but Ross's emotions that night kept me from losing my sanity. I know that being hysterical would not have helped, but I wish I had been angry too. In a way, as much as I love him, I do resent Ross for thinking that he had the right to be angry, and that I had to be the one to comfort him," she looked up at Charlotte, frowning. "Is that wrong?"

Charlotte shook her head firmly. "Not at all. He should have been the anchor that night, not you."

"That is how I feel, but now it seems meaningless," Lucy looked out the window. "He was hardly the hero that night. Beyond killing James and stopping the assault, that is. But we've been parted for so long that I don't want to be angry anymore," she looked back at Charlotte. "I'm so tired of being angry."

"I can tell. And it's my guess that you were never the moody sort either."

"Not at all," Lucy laughed. "Perhaps as a child, but in London I was quite the socialite. It's always those who smile the most, isn't it? Those who seem to have the most... No one could have ever guessed that I wasn't as happy as I seemed. Putting on a face made it real enough."

"I know that feeling," Charlotte sighed. "Sometimes all it takes is putting on a face and playing the part. Otherwise they'll ask us what's wrong and we'd have to tell them."

"And then when you tell them they tell that you're in a mood or that you need some rest."

"Or perhaps some tea, that will hit the spot?" Charlotte snorted.

Lucy laughed. "Honestly, do you think they'd take us more seriously if we were men?"

"Oh, I've no doubt. Men have naught but their foolish prides to protect, while women bear the weight of the skies, like Atlas."

Lucy sighed and looked down at her resting mother, and repositioned her head against the cushion it was resting on. "I discovered a whole knew side to my mother that I never knew was there. The young and scared Abigail Ward married to the great and revered John Quincy..."

"We always think of our parents as heroes."

"Oh, I knew she wasn't," Lucy shook her head. "My mother was many things. I thought her larger than life, proud, outspoken, but never a hero, never. I hated her. She was this cold, unfeeling woman, always angry never smiling. Lydia and I thought it was our fault when were little girls, but something in my gut told me that my mother was not happy with my father, and the anger that marriage brought upon her was then put on us, her children. Her life, her struggles, everything... All of it became ours, and we were so young. Tell me what manner of hero would do such a thing?"