The Lady Justice

Chapter XXIX: I Grieve, I Grieve Not

Lady Therese De Beauharnais of Roche

18 November, Year 32 of King Frederick V of Monrique's reign

Roche Manor, Roche

Monrique

The silence between us grew heavier with each passing moment, as if I had tied it to a boulder with the string of words I had just uttered, and tossed it into the ocean.

However, even the ocean was not large enough to drown the truth.

"Your mother threatened to murder your father if you did not abide by her wishes? All these years?" Lord Testalt whispered, his voice hollow with horror.

I opened my mouth to answer, but no sound came out. The memories, the explanations were clogging up my throat like a clotting, cloying odour, making it difficult to even breathe, let alone speak coherently.

I closed my mouth again. My lower lip trembled.

"And she..." I tried again, and swallowed, "she has...succeeded. My father is not expected to live very much longer."

I could almost see his mind at work. After a short while, he stilled and his lips parted in further horror, as he understood why I had been so anxious to return to Roche last month - as he realised long last, that Papa's illness was not natural.

"Sister-mine! Sister-mine!"

At that very moment, the door of my bedchambers flung open, banging against the walls. Clara stood panting on the threshold, her countenance pale with fright.

I turned to her at once. "Clara?"

She burst into tears. "I do not know what is wrong with Papa," she blubbered, "he is shaking and shaking and the Crown Prince and I cannot hold him still - "

I had sprinted past the door even before she could finish.

***

"How did you know what to do, Tess?"

Papa's chambers were in a mess. There was vomit and blood splattered over the floor. The bedside cabinet had toppled when he had been convulsing on his bed, spilling his tonic and the jug of water all over it.

It was a good thing Clara had taken Tommy to her chambers. He would have been so frightened if he had seen him.

In the midst of all this chaos, I gently cradled Papa now in my arms on the bed as he slept, his breathing faint and laboured.

I still have today with Papa. I still have today.

Nick stood over the edge of the bed now, watching us, his expression haunted by what he had witnessed mere moments ago.

"He started having these convulsing attacks a few years ago," I informed him, "the physicians call it the falling sickness. A concoction of Mugwort usually helps in easing them, and that is what I gave him just now."

Lord Testalt, who was seated across me, eyed me solemnly. "Did these attacks start around the time your mother began blackmailing you?"

"Ned," Nick warned, glancing over at me.

Lord Testalt was surprised, looking between us. "He knows as well?"

"I had to explain, rather briefly, to Jules and Nick when I had apologised to them two years ago," I replied, taking a deep breath, "and you are right. The attacks began when my mother...my mother made good on her threat."

He caught the tremor in my voice. "You do not need to do this now," he told me softly, "it can wait."

The compassion in his voice almost drove me to tears in that moment.