Page 21 of Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart

“It is when both of your brothers and I were grieving. It is when the management of the estate was left to me.”

“You’re a very capable person, Mother.” His brow wrinkled, trying to find the meaning in her words.

“I had no training, Stephen. I had to learn as I went. You might have helped me with that, shouldered some of the burden. You were the one your father taught to take it over, after all. A few months of your time would have been appreciated.”

“I had a life back in India. People who depended on me.” He threw up his hands. “I couldn’t just leave them.”

“Why not?” She tilted her head. “You left us well enough, and we depended on you, too.”

Stephen sat, head bent, thinking. He was surprised at her words, and they rousted a deep shame and not a small bit of grief. He was ashamed to realize he’d thought of them less than he should have, worried even less than that.

Of course they’d been struggling—he had been, too. But he’d been an adult. His brothers were still children, and his mother had loved his father. Deeply. He shouldn’t have left her to shoulder all of those burdens alone.

It had seemed so simple at the time—he’d stayed in India because he’d felt honor-bound to do so. Now, seeing it through her eyes, he wondered if he hadn’t made a grievous mistake.

“I’m sorry,” he said, lifting his head and meeting her eyes. “I didn’t think. I didn’t mean to abandon you—surely you must at least know that.”

“I do. But your motivations hardly matter. It is done, and for better or worse, the experience of losing your father has changed me. I won’t have you waltzing back in here and criticizing the person I’ve become—the person that loss forged me into—not after you weren’t here to help.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Mother. I wasn’t…I didn’t mean to criticize.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But please tell me you aren’t cavorting with that secretary.”

She tipped her head back and laughed. “No, he isn’t one of my lovers.”

“Your lovers?”

“And I know better than most the importance of following one’s own heart,” she continued, ignoring his outburst. “If you felt you needed to be in India for this span of time, I’m glad you were there. I’m even more glad you’re home.”

“Wait, Mother. Can we please revisit the fact that you have lovers?”

“We cannot. Besides, you know I just said that to shock you.”

“You did?” he asked, relieved.

“If you like.”

The lift of her shoulder wasn’t convincing, but as the conversation was deeply unsettling, he didn’t wish to pursue it further.

“I might understand your hesitation toward Hamish,” his mother said. “But why on earth are you pestering Vera so?”

“I don’t think she’s telling the full truth about why she’s here.”

“Of course not,” she laughed. “No one is ever telling the full truth about anything. That’s the nature of human communication, dear.”

He frowned. “That’s not correct. I don’t lie.”

“Of course you do. Don’t forget, Stephen—in order to be fully truthful with others, first one must be fully truthful with oneself.”

He rubbed at his temple. “And you’re saying I’m lying to myself, is that it?”

“I don’t know. Are you?”

He sighed and closed his eyes. “Please stop being purposefully difficult.”

“Very well. Please stop hassling our guest. Vera may not have told you her entire life story, but it is the prerogative of a lady to have some secrets.”

“Not if they’re potentially damaging to you or Benjamin.”

“She’s a wonderful person, and my very dear friend. I trust her. Isn’t that enough for you?”