Page 108 of A Well-Trained Lady

Papa glanced at the window. “Her chance came to undermine my intentions when the Coroner’s Court ruled the killings a murder and self-murder at Mr. Seton’s hand. They had found no evidence of an outside perpetrator and, because of his past dealings with his wife, it was assumed he had killed her himself. Your mother and I were the only ones who knew the truth.”

“And you did not want the authorities to know it?”

Papa’s countenance grew severe. “Do you know what they do to a person who has committed self-destruction? What they did to Mr. Seton thinking he had carried out the act?”

I gave a timid shake of my head, not certain I wished to know.

“Such people are not given a proper burial. Instead they are taken at midnight to a crossroads, where the evil spirit will be diffused in four directions.” He winced. “And before they are buried, a stake is driven through their heart to prevent their ghost from walking.”

A small gasp escaped me, and I released his hand to cover my mouth.

“Your mother said that if I did not agree to her demands, she would give the authorities the letter which she had managed to seize without my knowledge. That my beloved Susan would be defiled even in death.” Tears welled in Papa’s eyes, but they did not fall this time. “I could not bear it, Arabella. Such a cruel fate was befitting of a man like Mr. Seton, but not his gentle, kindhearted wife.”

I rested my head on Papa’s knees, and his hand moved to my back. We did not move for some time, nor did we speak. In the silence, my mind churned over what I had been told, my heart softening. Though I could not completely pardon the choices he’d made, I could now understand them. Everything Papa had done was because of his love for Ruth’s mother.

Papa cleared his throat, and I lifted my gaze to his. “That is the wrong I meant to right. When I saw Ruth that evening at the ball, it was as though I saw Susan. And when you mentioned how different she would have been if her mother had been alive, I knew I had failed them both. And I had failed you.

“I admit that my plan to get you to Fairhaven was not very well thought through, especially the bit about falsifying an invitation from the Leavitts. But I could not tell you the truth and risk your mother finding out, nor was I certain you would agree to the arrangement if it was not forced upon you.” Papa pressed his lips together. “I was all too aware of the hurt you endured thinking Ruth and Augustus had forgotten you all those years ago—a hurt you needed to understand had not come from them.”

“You could have explained it in the letter you sent with Leah.”

“I tried to pen an explanation several times. But in the end, I took the coward’s way out and trusted you would discover the necessary truths on your own.” His expression softened, and he cupped my face in his hand. “If I could have foreseen the complications that arose, I would not have sent you to Fairhaven.”

“No, Papa. I would not have missed Fairhaven for anything. My time there was the happiest I’ve been since Ruth and Augustus left.”

Papa tilted his head to the side, studying my face. “You love him, don’t you?”

Ever so slowly, I nodded. “I do love him. But it cannot matter. Mother has threatened to tell Ruth of her mother’s role in the deaths if I do not marry Lord Thorton.” I glanced down. “Besides, Augustus would not have me.”

“Did he tell you that?”

I rose to my feet, moving to the window. “I saw it in his eyes, Papa. He finally realized what kind of woman I have become.”

“And what kind of woman is that?”

My chin trembled. “One just like Mother.”

Papa moved up behind me and lightly rested his hands on my shoulders, following my gaze to the garden below. “You are nothing like your mother, despite her attempts to make you so. You are thoughtful, and kind, and good.”

Tears blurred the bright colors of the summer afternoon. “No. I have fooled you as I have fooled everyone.”

“How have you fooled us?”

“I have been catty and judgmental. I have fed my vanity and my pride, and I have treated others abominably. I have lied, Papa. Too many times to count. And worst of all, I have hurt Ruth and I have hurt Augustus.”

“So, you have done these things.”

I nodded.

“Have done is different than are doing, Arabella. And realizing our mistakes is the only way forward. If you don’t want to be the person you are, choose to be the person you wish to become.”

A tear slipped down my cheek. “I have done too much, hurt too many.”

“People are not the sum of all their wrongs. They must also be willing to take into account all their rights. And if the sides are not equitably proportioned, make them so. At least that is what I am trying to do.” Papa’s hands moved down my arms before dropping to his side. “And if I had to wager a guess, I would say Mr. Brundage would be likely to see it the same way.”

A warm sensation buzzed in my chest as the image of who I yearned to be clarified in my mind. I wanted to be carefree, like the girl I once was. I wanted to be a lady who laughed readily and smiled easily. A lady who trusted and hoped and was kind. And mostly I wanted to be someone who loved and was loved in return. My heart nearly burst at the simple freedom Papa had handed me. I had a choice, and I would choose to be— I froze. “I can’t choose who to be, Papa.” I turned to him, despair supplanting all hope. “Mother will tell Ruth about Mrs. Seton’s death. She could not bear it, and I will not ruin her happiness for mine.”

Papa’s eyes twinkled. “That is the other reason why I came to speak with you. When Mother wrote to me of my unpardonable meddling and the consequences of it—your troublesome affections being placed on someone other than Lord Thorton—I made a decision that I will not let you suffer as I have because of her demands.” He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a letter, handing it to me. “You must keep this.”