Page 45 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

The door behind her opened as she lifted another painting from the mantel, this one of a bird who kept visiting her balcony in the mornings.

Esther looked over her shoulder, her mind pulled from her destructive task just enough that she cringed. Silas. What would he think of her strange display?

He stared at her from the doorway. “What are you doing in here?” he asked, sounding confused. “Our friends are downstairs. I thought you might like to see them go through the box.”

“Friends?” she said, her voice hoarse with all the emotion she had kept at bay. “They are your friends. Not mine.” She turned her back on him and marched to the window. “And you walked out. I did not think anyone would miss me.”

“I only meant to retrieve— Esther! What are you doing?”

She’d thrown the painting out while he spoke, but she jumped when he shouted her name. Esther refused to feel guilty. She tightened her jaw and gestured with one arm to the room. “I am cleaning up my useless mess.”

“Useless?” He came inside and in two great strides stood next to her and leaned out of the window to look down. A roll of thunder in the distance punctuated Silas’s use of a swear word Esther did not think she had heard before. “Esther, those are your paintings. They will be ruined.”

“I know.” She started to turn away from him, ready to retrieve another, but he caught her arm.

“What are you doing?” he asked, trying to force her to turn to him. “Have you gone mad?”

She shook her head, lifting it to glare at him. “No. I finally realized what a waste all of this is. What a waste I am. I wish I had died, too. When my parents died. That would have simplified matters, wouldn’t it? Then Isaac leaving would’ve made sense. He would not have left anyone behind except his friends. And you could all mourn him without having to worry about the sister he had no use for.”

The look Silas wore, one of shock mingled with pain, made her heart tremble. “He loved you, Esther. You know that. None of us wish you away.”

“None of you wish me here, either,” she retorted, keeping her body stiff and as far from his as possible. “Especially you. If Isaac had lived, you two would have enjoyed this connection, I’m certain. Brothers through marriage. With him gone, I am nothing more than extra baggage. Someone to look after.” Her voice broke on the last word and she tried to pull away again.

“Stop this,” Silas said, his voice quiet. Then, in a tone of command, “Stop this at once. We are all hurting, but that is no excuse for this childish display—”

Heat flooded through Esther’s veins. Her anger, embarrassment at knowing he was right, gave her enough strength to pull out of his grasp and stumble backward. “I am not a child,” she shouted.

His sharp response landed like an arrow in her heart. “Then stop acting like one!”

Esther covered her mouth with one hand, yet not before a sob escaped. If only she had not married Silas. If only she had remained at home with Diana and Hugh, overlooked and inconsequential. Of course, even they did not want her. No one did. No one could be bothered with her.

Fleeing the room without looking back, Esther’s grief consumed her thoughts. Keeping Silas at a distance had been so important before the news of her brother’s loss. Perhaps that had always been the best strategy. As much as she feared being alone with her thoughts and feelings, at least she was safer that way. She could disappoint no one, get in the way of no one.

After locking herself in her room, Esther fell into bed fully clothed and wept with shame, loss, and a longing to matter to someone.

∞∞∞

Silas knew his duty lay in making excuses for his wife. Never had he been called upon to make excuses for anyone before. What was he to say? He valued honesty above all else, but sharing Esther’s distraught and illogical behavior felt like a betrayal of trust. As her husband, he was charged with protecting her, even from things such as gossip or the unkind thoughts of others.

He walked into the room where his three friends remained, Hope dabbing at her face with a handkerchief while Grace stared down at the floor. Jacob had moved away, standing at the window to watch the approaching clouds.

“Esther will not be joining us,” Silas said, bringing their attention to him. Lifting the tin box from the table, he held it out to Hope. “You are welcome to look through it.”

“Our club treasure,” Hope exclaimed, her countenance brightening. “Oh, I remember. It was my idea.”

Silas gave it into her eager hands. Prying the lid open, Hope chuckled and began chattering about the items inside. Grace assisted her in pulling them out and Jacob wandered over, standing behind them, watching mutely as they spoke of the odds and ends inside.

His mind on his wife rather than the box, Silas walked around to stand next to his friend, but his eyes went to the windows. This room faced the same direction as Esther’s sitting room, but it was in a different wing. The approaching clouds, dark and spilling water, would be at the house in minutes. How many of Esther’s creations were in the bushes, waiting for ruination?

He rubbed at his forehead, torn between annoyance at her behavior and the desire to save her work. Perhaps when she felt better, she would regret their loss.

He went to the windows and unlatched one, pushing it open. He could send a servant, but that would mean exposing Esther to their gossip below stairs.

A step at his side alerted him to Jacob’s presence, and then he could feel his friend’s stare upon him. “Where,” Jacob asked softly, “is Esther? She disappeared right after you did.”

Silas took in a deep breath. “I need your help for a moment, if you do not mind?”

Jacob shook his head. “Not at all. Anything you ask, Silas.”