Page 104 of A Well-Trained Lady

I stilled, uncertain why the notion penetrated my core. My resolve faltered.

Mother lifted a triumphant brow. “Ah. Willing to listen now?”

I swallowed but did not answer.

Mother released an aggravated breath. “Your father maintained a … fondness for Mrs. Seton up until the time of her death. I had warned him that her husband would not abide their continued friendship. Mr. Seton was a violent man who did not spare his wife when his temper flared. But your father would not see reason.

“Apparently, Mr. Seton began taking his anger out on Ruth as well. Despite his wife’s best efforts, a particular occurrence ended with Ruth abed for a week or two. The bruising was apparently quite extensive, and the servants were told that she fell down the stairs, unwitnessed by any of them.”

My legs felt weak beneath me as I thought of those weeks Ruth had been made to stay abed—the weeks Augustus and I had carelessly traipsed about the woods together without an inkling of Ruth’s suffering. “How do you know this?”

“Partly from servants’ gossiping lips and partly from a letter that came for your father the morning of the Setons’ deaths. He was not at home at the time, and my curiosity got the better of me, for Mrs. Seton had never been so brazen before in her antics. In the letter she explained her fears for Ruth and the threats Mr. Seton had laid against them. She said that she could not bear the idea of harm coming to her daughter again, but nor could she bear the shame and the consequence of having taken a life, even one so awful as her husband.”

I felt I might be sick. “You did nothing when you read of her intentions?”

Mother let out a shaky exhale, and the slightest flicker of remorse was visible in her expression. “I had thought it was an attempt for attention, a vain hope of hers that your father would come to her rescue.” She paused, her gaze now distant. “It was not. By the time he returned home, we had already received word of their deaths.”

“And you did not turn the letter over to the authorities?”

“We couldn’t. We could not risk becoming involved. Our family’s good name would have been tarnished, and your father’s political career undermined from a scandal. Who knows what people would have thought about his involvement? No. It was not an option.”

We stood a moment in strained silence before she lifted her chin. “So, now that you know the truth, can you imagine how such knowledge would affect Ruth? How heartbroken she would be to know it was her mother, a woman she loved more than anything, that she likely venerates to a fault, who had done something so unspeakable? What would others think of it? A woman, after all, does often follow in her mother’s footsteps.”

My head spun, and I dropped back onto the chaise lounge, no longer able to stand under the weight of it all.

“So you see, Arabella, I do still hold something over you. Something that I hope will allow you to see reason.”

I swallowed, giving only the briefest of nods.

Mother released a pitiable sigh, as though burdened by my forcing her coercion. “I expect you to be yourself again by dinner. Lord Thorton must know he is not mistaken in offering for you.”

Even after Mother had gone, I had no tears to cry. I sat and stared at the sooty hearth, my thoughts as empty as my heart.

“Miss Godwin?” Leah placed a tea tray on a nearby table and moved to my side, crouching down in front of me with a cup and saucer in hand. “I have brought you tea with lemon, just how you like it.”

I blinked, my eyes flickering to her offering before settling back on the fire.

“Miss Godwin, you are pale.” I could hear the concern in her voice, and she lifted the cup again. “You must drink something.”

I took hold of the cup and lowered it to my lap.

Leah did not move, nor did she speak.

My whole life was a lie. I was a lie. When Ruth and Augustus left Bath, I had no one. Even Papa withdrew from me after that. Mother’s abrupt interest in righting my upbringing became all I had. I thought if I could become what she wished me to be … if others thought me to be that also … then I would find the love I sought. But it would never be enough.

I took in Leah’s sympathetic expression. “I will never be enough. Not for Society and not for Mother.” My throat tightened. “And now I have lost the only people who still loved me because they realized what I have become—a mere shell of the girl they once knew. A hollow, empty shell and nothing more.”

“If I might be so bold, miss, you have too often been told of your faults. I have seen your goodness. Your kindness.” Leah’s hand came to rest upon my wrist. “Perhaps all is not lost.”

I thought of Mother’s threat against Ruth. Even if I could right my relationship with Ruth and Augustus, a task in itself that seemed impossible after all I had done, I would not risk causing Ruth such pain. Her mother was everything to her. The truth would leave her broken. “I fear it is.”

* * *

Lady Beatrice’s fan sliced the air between us, so rapid were its movements. “Miss Godwin, what was it you and Lord Thorton were discussing with such feeling before we left the picnic?”

I glanced at Mother standing nearby. Her vigilant gaze had hardly deviated from me all evening, nor did she lessen her watch now that the gentlemen were taking port. It was at her insistence that I’d even come to speak with Lady Beatrice. To make it appear as though I was not upset by her venomous gossip that had spread like a fire among the guests.

“Miss Godwin?” Lady Beatrice’s brows were lifted, her irritation obvious at being made to wait.